“Eager much?” Daniël teases him while he makes short work of buttons and buckle.

Steve nods. “Nervous too.”

“You’re okay?” Daniël takes him in his arms. “Does it bother you that I feel the need to protect

you?”

“I’m fine. And no, it doesn’t bother me. I guess I feel the same about you. Does it bother you?”

Steve caresses Dan’s long, strong back.

“Why would it? You’re my man; of course you want to protect me. Not everything has

changed.” Daniël kisses Steve’s lips. “I approve of where your hand is going.”

Steve grins. “I approve of your approval.” And he takes a buttock full in his hand.

“You can stand a few moments longer?”

Steve nods. With one hand leaning on the table, he’s fine. It feels wonderful to stand there,

palming his pretty much fully-formed erection, watching Daniël put one pillow on the seat of the chair

and one against the back rest.

And it makes Daniël even more interested, because one of his hands joins Steve’s for a

moment before he manoeuvres Steve on the chair. “You’re sitting a bit higher now, and a bit more to

the front, to make it easier for both of us when I ride you.”

The words make Steve’s cock twitch in anticipation. “Hand me the lube, please? I want to

prepare you.”

It takes a bit of trial and error, but they laugh through it all and in the end Daniël is very much

relaxed, sufficiently opened up and ready for action.

Steve feels how his nerves calm down, how his heart loses the hasty beat and how his breathing

becomes easy and free. There is not a trace of fear in his mind or body when Daniël straddles him and,

with steady slowness, lowers himself until Steve’s cock is fully seated inside him.

Warm ...

“God, Steve,” Daniël’s voice breaks in fragile syllables.

“You... oh... Steve... you... Steve... Steve... Steve... Steve... Steve... Steve...”

He frames the face of the trembling boy between his hands, covers it with butterfly kisses.

“You.

Are.

Inside.

Me.”

It sounds to Steve as if every single word needs to be said as precisely as possible, because

they have to carry such heavy load of significance beyond the simple fact.

You didn’t die.

I didn’t lose you.

You didn’t die.

I didn’t lose you.

“My Danny.”

Because, what else is there for him to say? What words are there when there are no words?

Slowly, Daniël rocks himself to completion, helped by Steve’s fingers stroking his cock.

Every second of every minute, Steve focuses his gaze on his beloved’s face.

To know and to remember.

His own orgasm is hardly more than a shiver, a sigh. It’s enough for Daniël to close his eyes

and rest his head against Steve’s. Warm fluid fills the palm of Steve’s hand.

Daniël takes the hand into his own and brings it to Steve’s mouth.

Steve licks the palm of his own hand clean, tasting his lover’s essence.

“God ...” he whispers.

Chapter 20

He can’t remember how he landed in bed and doubts Daniël remembers much more. But when

he wakes up in the morning, Dan’s not with him in bed. It doesn’t alarm him. He would know if

Daniël weren’t close by. He doesn’t even need to hear or see him for this.

And soon enough, the bedroom door is pushed open and Dan enters, balancing a tray with

coffee, freshly baked rolls, boiled eggs, strawberry jam and some already peeled oranges. And, of

course, the unavoidable protein-spiked shake. He sets the tray on the chair so he can then help Steve

sit upright.

A quick kiss. “Ready for some breakfast?”

Steve nods, too busy smiling to be able to say much.

“We make this a nice, quiet Sunday. Lazing around a bit ...”

“Having sex a bit,” Steve teases before he takes a bite of the roll with butter and jam.

“Oh yes.” Impressive how Daniël doesn’t spill a drop of his coffee while he turns his face

sideways to give Steve another long kiss on the lips. “Breakfast first, because you need some meat on

that skinny frame of yours. Doctor’s orders, remember.”

Steve doesn’t feel offended by Daniël’s remark. No need to hide behind pointless vanity. Just

like Daniël doesn’t hasten to say how sexually attractive his lover still is to him. Something that

obvious doesn’t ask for superfluous reassurance. And it’s not a blind love either, because Daniël has

seen the worst and he never once looked away.

They both eat one half of an orange.

“You’ll help me shave, later?”

“Okay.”

The conversation eases on, as gentle and natural as anything that could happen between them.

“We’re doing it the other way around, it seems,” Steve says. “Being married, I mean, and

having a wedding.”

“I guess we are, “Daniël chuckles. “Look at us. Old married couple. Now all we need to do is

adopt a puppy.”

Steve smiles at himself, at his unspectacular happiness. He finishes his roll, drinks the last of

his coffee, and eats the half of another orange he shares with Daniël. They kiss and touch each other

just to kiss and touch. The need is always there, sometimes demanding, often as gentle as the look he

sees in Daniël’s eyes, but never fully absent. Anyone who claims the love of body is inferior to the

love of mind has no idea what they’re talking about. This body, this healing but never fully healed

remains of the home he once inhabited with such ease, is what keeps him with his beloved. And Daniël

knows that too. Whatever they may wish for in their secret of secrets, it’s this and nothing else.

So Steve eats everything Daniël wants him to eat with pleasure, including the shake.

In the bathroom, he sits on the stool while Daniël shaves him. It’s as pleasant and important as

touching each other while eating breakfast in bed; as important as all other things. And while Steve

knows there will be undeniable hierarchy between things later on, for now there’s nothing small and

relatively insignificant.

They talk about the wedding, sitting on the couch, not yet fully into the business of how

exactly they want it and when, but more concrete and factual than ever before. No fancy fuss, no

exalted drama, and certainly no self-written texts to say out loud to each other in front of their

gathered friends and family. Them standing there, in front of a registrar, who is making a short

speech, is exactly the declaration they want to make.

And because talking about the wedding makes them itchy in a very pleasant way all over, but

mostly in certain areas, they once again return to the bedroom. They lie side by side, kissing and

touching; not in a hurry, but it’s still as much sex as anything they’ve ever done. Brushing cock

against cock, their hands kneading buttocks in appreciation. Then, almost at the same time, they wrap

their fingers around each other’s pricks.

“I totally love your hand on my cock,” Daniël breathes against Steve’s mouth. “Reminds me of

all the times we were so hot for each other we didn’t even make it past the hallway.”

It’s not as simple as it looks, concentrating at two equally pleasurable but still very different

sensations, but Steve thinks that might exactly why it’s such fun. His cock is being touched, like he’s

jerking himself off, but it’s not by his own hand. His hand is finding the perfect rhythm around a shaft

that’s not his own.

“Love you,” Daniël gasps while his body shudders closely against Steve’s.

They lick their fingers clean, not caring which hand belongs to whom.

“I want to be able to be fucked by you on our wedding night,” Steve says before he can stop

himself. But he will forever be grateful for Daniël not saying, even if it would have been totally honest