Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

He felt Hugo standing before him. His hand caressed the side of his face.
He leaned into it. How he’d lasted all these weeks without his touch,
Wallace would never know. “I love you too,” Hugo said again, and it came
with a hushed reverence akin to prayer.
Wallace opened his eyes. Hugo filled the world until he was all Wallace
could see. “You do?”
Hugo nodded.
Wallace sniffed. “Damn right you do. You’re very lucky to have—”
Hugo kissed him once more.
“I think,” Wallace said against Hugo’s lips, “that we should forgo the tea,
at least for now.”
“What did you have in mind?” Hugo asked, nose brushing against
Wallace’s own.
Wallace shrugged. “Perhaps you could give me a tour of your bedroom.”
“You’ve seen it before.”
“Yes,” Wallace said. “But that was when I was wearing clothes. I expect
it’ll be different if we got rid of—” He yelped when the world tilted as Hugo
lifted him up, throwing him over his shoulder. He was stronger than he
looked. “Oh my god. Hugo, put me down!” He beat his hands against Hugo’s
back, laughing as he did so.
“Never,” Hugo said. “Never, ever, ever.”
Wallace raised his head and looked up at the door as Hugo headed for the
stairs. For a brief moment, he saw the flowers and leaves growing along the
wood. “Thank you,” he whispered.
But the door was just that: a door.
It didn’t respond.
It would, one day. It waited for all of them.
The tour of Hugo’s bedroom went smashingly. It really was better without
clothing.