"Hopefully not each other."
It wasn't fast or fiery—it was slow, exploratory, and breathtaking in its simplicity. We touched each other like men who didn't quite know the map but boldly stepped forward anyway.
His fingers wrapped around my cock like he wasn't sure he was doing it right, and honestly, neither was I. It didn't matter. We were learning together, gasping softly, touching like it was new but inevitable. I followed his lead, stroking and finding a rhythm that started shy and turned into something fluid and alive.
There were no perfect lines, no porn-star moves. Only breath, skin, and the heady intimacy of shared gasps and quiet moans in the low kitchen light.
When orgasms finally crashed over us, it wasn't some cinematic moment—it was clumsy and beautiful, bodies pressed close, mouths finding each other again not tostartsomething, but to saythank you.To sayyes, an emotional high-five.
Afterward, we leaned into each other. Eric said, "I can't feel my legs."
"I can't feel mysoul."
We both laughed too hard.
And maybe that was the best part—knowing we didn't have to get everything right to getitright.
For a long moment, we didn't move.
Our breathing slowed in tandem; the only sounds were the tick of the kitchen clock and the distant hush of waves slapping rock.I became acutely aware of the mess—our clothes scattered like debris from a small, intimate storm.
We were both still catching our breath, grinning stupidly, when I reached for a kitchen towel and passed it to him. He accepted it with a bashful kind of thanks, using it without ceremony before handing it back.
It was sweet and a little absurd, and I didn't know what to do with the part of me that wanted to hold on to it forever.
Eric bent to retrieve his jeans, wrinkling his nose. "Well. These are not going back on with grace."
"You could just… not."
He looked at me, then at the hallway, then back. "You mean—?"
I nodded. "Come to bed. If you want."
There was a pause. Not long, but long enough for me to have a moment of doubt before correcting it.
"Yeah. I do… want."
We padded down the hall barefoot. At the threshold of my room, Eric hesitated.
"This is your fortress."
I turned to face him, my heart suddenly lodged somewhere between my throat and my ribs. "Maybe it doesn't have to be only mine anymore."
The bed creaked as we crawled in, naked, the sheets cool against flushed skin. We didn't rush to press close. We settled side by side, barely fitting on the narrow bed as we faced each other.
Eric spoke for both of us, saying, "I have no idea what I'm doing." His toes found mine under the covers, tentative and sweet. "You think we'll figure it out?" he asked.
"I think we're on our way."
He exhaled, and the tension began to drain from his body. "Thanks for not making it weird."
I reached for his hand beneath the covers. "Thanks for making it feel like something I want to wake up to."
Somewhere inside the walls, the old pipes knocked. Outside, the wind shifted.
Inside, we drifted closer under the covers. Warm. A little messy. Still figuring it out.
But not alone.
