Page 76 of Orc'd At A Wedding
She smiles sleepily, her hands sliding up my bare chest.
"Good morning," she whispers.
"Good morning."
I kiss her slowly, thoroughly, taking my time, and she makes a soft, pleased sound that travels directly to my groin.
"Coffee first," she mumbles against my mouth. "I'm not functional yet."
"Noted."
I step back, resuming my coffee preparation with mechanical efficiency, and she watches me with obvious amusement.
"Do you have a color-coded system for making coffee too?"
"Water temperature, grind consistency, and extraction time are critical variables," I reply without looking up. "Inconsistency produces inferior results."
"You're insane."
"You accepted a marriage blade from me. Your judgment is equally questionable."
She laughs, kicking her bare feet against the cabinet.
I finish preparing her coffee exactly the way she prefers it—medium roast, precisely one hundred seventy-five degrees, with a specific ratio of cream to sugar that I have calculated to the milliliter—and hand her the mug.
She takes a sip, closes her eyes, and sighs.
"Perfect."
"Obviously."
She sets the mug down, reaching for me again, and I step into her space, my hands settling on her thighs.
"What's the plan for today?" she asks.
"I have a conference call at zero-nine-hundred regarding the estate security contract. Following that, I will complete the installation of the reinforced shelving unit in the study and conduct a comprehensive review of our household supply inventory."
She studies me with an expression I have come to recognize as fond exasperation.
"Olog. It's the weekend."
"Maximum productivity doesn't acknowledge meaningless temporal divisions," I reply, perfectly serious. "Optimalhousehold management operates on a continuous operational cycle, regardless of whether the current day falls within the standard Monday-through-Friday work week or the arbitrarily designated rest period."
She moves her head, her fingers tracing absent patterns on my forearm.
"We need to work on your understanding of downtime."
"I am experiencing downtime," I point out. "I am currently in the kitchen. With you. Consuming coffee. This qualifies as recreational activity."
"You're mentally preparing to conduct a comprehensive audit of our bathroom tissue reserves," she says flatly.
I pause.
She is not incorrect.
"Inventory management is a critical component of household security," I say, which is objectively true. "We are dangerously close to a supply shortage situation."
"Our reserves have diminished to four rolls. That constitutes a significant resource shortage."
