Besides, he did want to do this. For Stephen. For himself. For the sheer joy of the game, at least this part of it: no lives directly on the line, only the profound fun of considering probabilities, putting together a timetable, designing a mission for the best possible outcome. He’d been good at that; he liked knowing he still was. He liked the crackle of it, the cleverness, the edge.
He also had some thoughts about post-mission adrenaline and triumph and endorphins and his husband. That could be fun, too.
He said, “I’m in charge. Whatever I tell you to do, you do.”
Simon batted eyelashes at him. “Isn’t that generally the—”
“Yes. But also seriously yes. I want you to listen.”
“I promise. You know much more about this than I do. You said we’d be quick, though.”
“We will be. And then I’m planning to bring you back here and tie you up and make you scream. Sound good?”