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"Because I've never wanted anything this much before, and, in my experience, wanting something this badly usually means you can't have it."

I set my glass on the counter and crossed the narrow space between us. Eric looked up as I cradled his face in my hands.

"You have it. You have me."

I kissed him.

It was deliberate, confident, and unapologetic. I pressed my mouth to his like I'd been planning it for hours instead of deciding in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

Eric's whiskey glass clinked against the counter as he set it aside, leaving both of his hands free to pull me closer.

The kiss deepened slowly like we were unwrapping something precious that might dissolve if handled too roughly. Eric's mouth was warm as his lips parted.

I'd forgotten how kissing could be a conversation, a question-and-answer exchange in the language of breath, pressure, and soft whimpers. Eric's tongue touched mine.

One of my hands slipped from the side of his face to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his slightly shaggy hair. He arched into the touch.

When we finally separated, it was only long enough to breathe. Eric's chest rose and fell like he'd been running.

"Okay." Eric's voice was rough around the edges. "That felt pretty real."

I traced my thumb along his lower lip, watching his pupils dilate in response. "Is that how we're describing it?"

"Well, measures of reality sometimes require careful research." Eric pressed his chest against mine. "Multiple trials are essential."

"Can't argue with science."

I kissed him again, slowly this time, savoring how he melted into me. One of his hands slipped under the fabric of my flannel shirt.

Eric pulled back just far enough to gaze at me, his face flushed and beautiful in the lamplight. "Wes?"

"Yeah?"

"I think my research methods might take a while to execute."

I pulled him closer. "Good thing we've got all night."

Taking his hand, I walked with him down the hallway to my bedroom. At the threshold, I paused and turned to face him. "Are you sure about this? About me?"

It was a multi-faceted question. I wanted to ask whether he wanted to take on the baggage, scars, and carefully constructed defenses that might take years to dismantle fully.

"Well, I've made it this far without running screaming into the storm, so I figure my survival instincts are either excellent or completely broken." He flashed a gentle smile. "Either way, I'm here, terrible jokes and questionable decision-making included."

"Terrible jokes, huh?"

"The absolute worst. Fair warning—there's probably a lot of awkward on the way before things get good. I might elbow you in places where elbows don't belong, get tangled in my clothes, or make inappropriate comments about your technique."

"My technique?"

"Well, I don't know all the details of your technique yet, but I'm sure I'll have opinions."

"So… something we haven't tried tonight?"

Eric stepped closer. "I hope so. The point is, I'm nervous and probably will embarrass myself spectacularly, but I want this. I want you."

The honesty in his voice cut through all of my remaining doubts.

Eric wasn't offering me perfection or pretending it would be anything other than two people figuring things out as they went.

He offered me his presence, acceptance, and trust, allowing for fumbling, laughter, and the messy reality of bodies learning.

I guided him to my bed and joined him. He reached for the top button of my shirt. When it fell open, he spread his palms flat against my chest, exploring the ribs and taut muscle there.

When I reached out for Eric's body, every touch revealed something new. His lean muscle was both firm and pliable beneath my touch. I kissed the scatter of freckles across his shoulders.

He gasped when I found a sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder. "That tickles."

"Good or bad tickles?"

"Definitely good." He reached for the buckle of my belt. "Though if you keep doing that, I will make embarrassing noises."

"I like your noises."

"You haven't heard these yet."

I kissed the spot just behind his ear, which made him whimper and caused my cock to stiffen. He yanked my belt free, making the leather hiss through belt loops as he tossed it aside.

"Show off," he muttered.

Jeans and socks disappeared as we undressed. One of Eric's socks refused to cooperate, and he had to methodically work it free from his foot.

"Graceful," I observed.

"Shh. Socks are harder than they look."

I reached for Eric, pulling him down until we were lying face to face on the narrow bed, legs tangled. He transferred his curiosity to his fingers as he explored my chest and shoulders, lightly tweaking my nipples.

I rolled us over, settling my weight above him while he spread his legs to accommodate me, and for a moment, we just looked at each other.

"Hi," Eric whispered.

"Hi yourself."

"So, um." His cheeks flushed. "I should probably mention that I've never... with a guy... I mean, you knew I'd shared kisses, but not… this."

The confession didn't surprise me—Eric had told me multiple times in more vague terms about his limited experience—but hearing it from his lips, seconds away from crossing lines that couldn't be uncrossed, I realized how much trust he was placing in my hands.

"No pressure. No expectations. Just us."

Eric's response was to arch up against me, creating friction that made us both gasp. "What about you? It's been..."

"A long time. And then, only one time." I nuzzled against his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin. "But I haven't forgotten."

I kissed him again until we were both breathing hard. "Wes," Eric gasped against my mouth. "I need... can we...?"

"Yeah." I reached for the nightstand drawer where I'd stashed a couple of extra things from the latest co-op groceries Mrs. Pelletier gave me. "We can."

The mechanics of sheathing my cock in a condom required patience and more laughter when my hands shook too much to manage. Eric helped, his fingers steady. Before rolling it down, he traced the veins with his thumb.

Before attempting to enter him, I used my fingers. When I slipped the first inside, Eric gasped. When the second followed, he growled like a feral animal and dug his hands into the bedsheets.

I gradually spread my fingers, opening him up and getting him ready.

His back arched, and I watched his face transform—his bright, analytical mind finally overwhelmed by pure sensation.

"I never… fuck, Wes. Words don't…" The Eric who always had the perfect thing to say was speechless, reduced to desperate gasps.

It was time to enter him for the first time. I pushed his legs back and lined my cock head up with his prepared body. He whispered, "Please."

When I finally thrust past his ring, Eric's eyes opened wide, and he held his breath. His trust was blinding at that moment—letting me in, literally and figuratively. He was tight, warm, and perfect, but more than that, he was mine.

His body accepted me inch by inch while something fundamental rearranged inside me. All those years of telling myself I didn't want this and didn't need this—every lie I'd built my solitude on crumbled as we both marveled at the rightness of it.

"Okay?" I whispered.

"Oh, fuck… um, yeah. Doesn't hurt…too much." Eric's voice was rough and thin. "It's... God, Wes, you feel..."

"What?"

"Like I was supposed to fucking wait for this all along." He blushed. "Excuse my language."

I chuckled under my breath and began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing confidence. Eric dug his fingertips into my flesh like I was the only solid thing in a world gone fluid.

It wasn't graceful or anything like the choreographed encounters portrayed in movies. It was clumsy and desperate, punctuated by whispered directions and the occasional breathless laugh.

But it was real. It was us. And when Eric's back arched and his body tightened around me as his orgasm swept over him, I knew I couldn't hold out any longer. I followed him over the edge, shouting his name.

Afterward, we lay tangled together in the sheets, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling while the storm continued its assault on the cottage. Eric moved to rest his head on my chest.

After a few minutes, he lifted his head to gaze into my face. "Think we'll get better at it with practice?"

I smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "There's only one way to find out."

He laughed.

"Lots of experiments," I grinned.

"I like how you do science."

Eric's breathing slowed as he rested his head back on my chest. "Listen to that wind. I hope it doesn't blow us to Oz."

"Forty knots at least. Maybe fifty by morning."

"Should we worry?"

I pressed my lips to the top of his head. "Nah. This cottage has been through a lot worse."

"Wes?" Eric's voice was soft as if he were afraid to disturb whatever fragile peace had settled over us.

"Mmm?"

"I didn't think..." He paused, searching for words. "I never imagined it could feel like this."

"Like what?"

"Safe. Is it possible that home isn't a place but is a person?"

Eric lifted his head again, and in his eyes, I saw something that looked suspiciously like my future taking root. When he settled back against my chest, he reached for my hand beneath the sheet. "You don't have to answer that yet."

Sleep soon claimed him. I lay awake listening to the storm and the soft sounds he made as he dreamed. The storm raged around us, but we had each other, and we had time.

Eric mumbled something in his sleep that might have been my name, and I closed my eyes and let the sound of rain and wind and his quiet breathing carry me toward whatever dreams were waiting.