Jens smiled. Slow. Devastating.
“That you don’t get to dismiss me just because I was born later.”
He leaned in, forehead to forehead.
“You don’t like younger men,” he repeated, softer now. “But you like me.”
Jesper exhaled. Defeated. Honest.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “I really do.”
Jens kissed the corner of his mouth, not even a full kiss. Just a promise.
“Good,” he said. “Then stop pretending age gives you the upper hand.”