Page 84 of Black and Brown

He should wake Grace’s ass up and fill him again, but his partner looked wrecked. Mirage would take pity on him for now and ease off the punishment for a few hours.

He leaned over and nestled into Grace’s neck, sucking on his salty throat.

“Mmm, fuck off, Mirage. I’m staying asleep this time,” Grace muttered, then turned over, giving Mirage a good view of the palm prints he’d left on Grace’s lightly tanned skin.

Too wired to sleep, Mirage got up and went into the bathroom to wash off a night’s worth of sex sweat in the biggest shower that could fit in an apartment.

With a long towel wrapped around his waist, he went into the living room, drew back the floor-to-ceiling drapes, and opened the doors to the terrace to feel the morning breeze on his wet skin.

“Damn. I need coffee. And food.”

He couldn’t go downstairs and eat because Grace had been adamant about him being there when he woke, so he went into the kitchen, flicking on all the light switches to see what he could find.

He believed he’d always be wowed by Grace’s kitchen. And it never failed to make him horny when he watched Grace navigate it as if he were doing a show for the Food Network.

He went to the coffee maker…at least, he thought it was a coffee maker.

Mirage sucked his teeth, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Why is there a goddamn touch screen?”

He touched it to wake it up, and it displayed multiple images of cup sizes and brew strengths to choose from.

Fuckin’ hell. Simplicity is lost, and I blame this generation.

“All I want is a cup of fuckin’ Folgers.”

He had to settle for a glass of orange juice and a piece of toast he burned in the many over-the-top settings on Grace’s toaster.

Neither was satisfying. He was still starving. After last night’s marathon, he needed a lot more sustenance.

Mirage

Mirage’s head spun while he struggled to come up with some food.

He cleared the dinner mess, having to wash the dishes by hand when he couldn’t figure out Grace’s dishwasher.

Now, he was staring into the refrigerator for some cold cuts or something. There was milk, but he hadn’t seen any cereal in the pantry.

He eyed the eggs sitting in their own compartment, but he’d never seen brown ones before. He assumed they were top-of-the-line since Grace had them.

Now, all he needed was some bologna to tear into pieces and add to some scrambled eggs.

Mirage usually made his eggs in the microwave, but today, he’d have to use Grace’s stove.

How hard could cracking eggs, dropping them in the pan, then stirring fast until there was no more runny shit be?

He didn’t find bologna, but he did find bacon.

Another kind of food he made in the microwave, but Mirage was sure he could flip the pieces until they were crispy and brown.

But so he didn’t fuck up like he had with the avocado—Mirage noticed Grace hadn’t put any on his plate, and when Mirage had bit into it, he’d almost chipped a tooth—he pulled up YouTube and searched how to make bacon and eggs for breakfast.

He wanted to make sure it was perfect to debunk Grace’s theory that Mirage couldn’t cook without a microwave.

Even if it was against a person’s diet, everyone loved to wake up to the smell of frying bacon.

Mirage went hunting for the kind of pan the cook used in the video. He tried not to grumble and curse too loud as he shoved and clanged multiple pots inside cabinets packed with too many different kinds of cooking shit.