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Hollis thought about touching Walt’s neck, but that seemed a bit too much to start with.

He reached over until Walt adjusted. Until they were settled firmly on their side, curved like a comma in the dark, back to the moonlight.

His fingers landing on his left wrist sparked enough that they both flinched, but Hollis didn’t pull away.

Instead, Hollis pushed down the curve of their palm until the tips of him were nestled in the hollow of Walt’s fingers. The shock rattled their bones and set their teeth on edge.

This was easier when they didn’t have to stand.

They went nearly blind with it, tremors racking up their spine, light flashing behind their eyes. Walt threw their head back and made an incredible noise into the silence of their room.

Hollis didn’t know he could sound like that. He was suddenly desperately thankful that they were home alone.

Walt closed their grip, pressed harder, held his hand, and the euphoria was terrible and grand.

Like Holst’s Jupiter.

What?

Like original sin, like the bite of an apple, like staring into first sunrise before you learn to look away, like touching the hem of an angel, like milk hot from skin, like licking honey from the fingertips of God.

Walt.

Hollis slid their hands apart and clasped his wrist firm and grounding. They jackknifed, tangled in the sheets. Walt tried to tug away, almost like a reflex, but all that did was make them scrape together, flop sweat slicking, vulgar, luxuriant.

This is us, you said.

Hollis felt crazy; Walt was sobbing.

It has never been this long, Hollis, please .

How long has it been?

And he meant something else entirely.

Walt tried to hide from him deep inside, but Hollis pulled him back out, merciless. He was delirious; he didn’t let go. The blood pounded in their head steady as the march of time.

This was easier for him, Hollis realized. Easier for him to bear this than it was for Walt, somehow, and he didn’t know why.

TELL ME HOW YOU FEEL.

Like stealing from a rectory, Walt was babbling, lost. Holy sepulchre, sweet and terrible and sweet and sweet and sweet—

Hollis released him, separated until they weren’t skin to skin anymore.

Sweet like milk. Like honey from the hand of God.

Their face was wet.

Hollis pulled up the sheet and wiped Walt’s tears.