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."
