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Something shifts after that night. Something unspoken. Dennis prides himself on being logical—and logic says you can't equate falling in love with the world changing. He's seen enough of Jason's rose-tinted love goggles—and lord knows Jason owns them in every design and shade—to know better.

But he feels it. Present. Tangible. Undeniable. Even if they never talk about it.

Because Dennis gets it. Chris didn't mention his mother's words at lunch, and that's fine. Dennis won't push.

He's focused on now . On having Chris. On loving him and getting to be with him. That's what matters.

And no one could call this convenient anymore.

No one could call it convenient when Dennis rants about moronic investors through dinner, after unpaid overtime, while Chris just listens.

No one could think that rearranging gym schedules, sacrificing social time, and giving up personal space to make someone else comfortable counts as convenient.

On nights when they're too exhausted for anything but passing out fully clothed on top of each other, or when site emergencies steal their evening, or when Dennis’s family duties drag him away—none of that screams convenient.

What it is, is magnetic .

When Chris catches Dennis’s eyes across the site and gives him that look, Dennis knows he won't be getting clothes after his shower.

Chris will be sprawled on the couch, waiting for Dennis to fetch the lube—even as Dennis grumbles that they should finish one bottle before opening another, about how many half-empty ones keep appearing between cushions.

Chris watches as Dennis slicks him up, dripping lube all over his dick. Then Dennis preps himself, working his own fingers in as deep as he can while Chris makes him prop one leg up on the backrest for a better view. Finally, Dennis straddles him, sinking down onto Chris's cock and riding while Chris just watches him chase their pleasure.

Except Dennis never lasts long once Chris is lodged inside him—just knowing Chris is buried to the hilt sends him over. After he comes, Dennis is too weak, too raw, too wrung out to keep going. He has to beg Chris to finish, using that soft, needy voice he knows Chris can't resist.

Chris pretends to sigh, acting put-upon like it's such a chore, but his rock-hard cock gives him away. He makes Dennis stay up on his knees, gripping his hips just shy of bruising while he fucks up into him. The couch springs protest as Chris pounds away, making Dennis’s limp dick bounce wildly.

Chris's eyes lock onto that helpless movement, studying every swing and flap until his breath catches and he's coming, pressed deep in Dennis’s ass, plugging him so thoroughly that only a thin stream of cum escapes down his inner thighs.

What it is, is ravenous :

When Dennis is reading his book, Chris realizes his own cock has hardened. It only makes sense to turn Dennis onto his side, grinding against his ass through their underwear while finishing his game level.

The moment he tosses his phone aside, he yanks Dennis’s briefs halfway down his thighs and positions him on knees and elbows, spreading Dennis’s legs as far as the elastic of his underwear allows.

"Don't mind me, princess, you can keep reading, I'll just be quick," he says before burying his face between Dennis’s cheeks, jerking himself off as he eats him out.

When Chris is done, satisfied and stretching like a pleased cat, Dennis is left aching and pouty. He tries to focus on his book. Tries to ignore Chris's attention. But Chris just chuckles—they both know Dennis will fight it at first, then get clingy and hungry, nuzzling into Chris's side until he's humping against his thigh and Chris gets to ask, "Is there something you need, princess?"

It pisses Dennis off every time. Enough to shove Chris onto his back and swallow his cock until he's hard again.

Chris strokes his hair while his chest hitches at Dennis’s expert mouth—this mouth, which has never known another cock, shaped only by Chris's, and as Chris loves to remind him, made just for his dick.

Then Dennis is skewering himself on Chris's length with a hurt moan. After a few painful plunges that stretch his walls too wide, his rim pulled thin around Chris's girth, the ache dulls into pleasure.

Soon it feels incredible, and Dennis arches back, throat exposed to the ceiling, hands braced behind himself on Chris's legs as he ploughs himself down. He rams his ass onto Chris's cock like he might reach even deeper, spread open parts of his insides that haven't been claimed yet.

The fantasy only breaks when Chris fills him up, then uses his fingers to scoop his cum out, onto his abs and navel while Dennis floats in a daze, fuzzy from everything Chris does to his body.

What it is, is possessive :

Before bed, Chris tosses Dennis the lube without a word and Dennis lies back, knees pulled to his chest to lift his ass high. He pushes the nozzle into his hole, then squeezes the lube directly into himself, making him shiver.

Chris watches, lying on his side, chin propped in his palm, fingers trailing Dennis’s leg and ass as they wait for the cold slick to sink deep into Dennis’s passage.

When Dennis feels it sitting cool and high up in his stomach, they spoon to sleep with Chris behind him. Sometimes morning finds them exactly as they fell asleep. But usually, Dennis finds Chris already inside him when he wakes up, having slipped in during the night when he got hard.

"It's going to happen if your irresistible ass is next to me princess, better to be safe than sorry," Chris reasons.

Dennis can't argue after too many rude awakenings to stretches too dry and tight. That never ends well. Once they're both up with Chris’s boner, they invariably waste precious sleep fucking in the early hours. At least this way, it saves them both from morning migraines and bad moods. Much better to wake up with that familiar fullness, his body welcoming Chris naturally now.

Morning Dennis can deal with the lube smeared between them if Chris thrusts in his dreams, pumping it out, and the pleasantly distracting emptiness that lasts well into the work day.

It never goes to waste though. They always finish in the morning, either together or Chris does alone before early site visits. He'll gently roll Dennis onto his stomach, earning a sleepy "hmm?" before Dennis drifts off again. Then Chris rocks into him, spreading his cheeks to watch his cock drag Dennis’s rim out before disappearing into his heat, over and over, until he's shot his load deep into Dennis’s guts.

He brushes Dennis’s hair—longer now that he's embraced a less polished look—away from his neck, to place one long, tender kiss on his nape. Then he leaves Dennis to sleep, moving quietly through his morning routine, always leaving Dennis’s share of a working man's breakfast warming in the old but reliable oven, insisting he try to eat at least some of it before heading out.

This pattern of their entwined lives leaves Dennis feeling some sort of way he can't quite put his finger on.

Love is love and he's done denying that's what he feels for Chris.

But there's something else too.

Dennis has always overthought everything. Every detail, every possibility, every outcome.

But Chris taught him to loosen his grip.

"Don't give a fuck. Keep your fucks for what's important, princess. Like me!" Chris leers, waggling his eyebrows.

Dennis elbows him with a groan at the terrible joke.

He’s taught him to paint his life in bolder colors—wild and free.

Well... a little wilder, slightly freer.

Maybe that's why he always looks forward to Chris sweeping him away on adventurous weekends between rescuing strays.

He's so happy it hurts when Chris kisses his forehead before he leaves to his own apartment, even though they'll see each other at work in an hour.

He's so content he gets jealous of nighttime Dennis who gets Chris all to himself, while daytime Dennis sighs over paperwork—work he remembers he's passionate about whenever Chris discusses it with that spark in his eye.

Lately, instead of drowning in what-ifs, Dennis has glimpsed something solid about him and Chris.

About them .

It fills him with lightness. Makes everything brighter.

That's why he ignores his father's first hundred calls weeks later.

He doesn't want to break this spell.

Because when lunch arrives as Chris walks in with takeout, sitting across from him but keeping their legs woven under the table as they chat and joke and roll their eyes at each other, Dennis only wants to focus on how easy this feels now.