Noah moved through the space slowly, taking in details. A half-finished coffee table occupied the main workbench, its wood gleaming under overhead lights. Sketches for other projects covered one wall, each showing the same attention to detail Luke brought to their house.
“Beautiful,” Noah murmured, running his fingers along the table’s smooth edge. “You did all this by hand?”
“Yeah.” Luke stepped closer, close enough that Noah could feel his warmth. “My dad taught me everything I know about woodworking. It started with me watching him, and then, as I got older, he started teaching me. I thought he was crazy when I was younger, but eventually, I began to understand why he found it so relaxing. He’d get in the groove and start rambling about wood grain and what the distance between rings might have meant for the trees it came from.”
Their hands met on the table’s surface, Luke’s fingers covering Noah’s as he traced the grain pattern. “See how it flows here? That’s years of growth, of becoming. Each ring tells a story about the conditions that shaped it.”
Noah’s breath caught. They weren’t just talking about wood anymore. Luke’s hand was warm against his, calloused in ways that spoke of years of careful work. Of shaping things into their true forms.
“Luke.” Noah’s voice came out rough. He turned, finding Luke watching him with an intensity that made his pulse race. “I think I’m starting to understand some things.”
“Yeah?” Luke didn’t move away. If anything, he shifted closer. “What kinds of things?”
“About growth.” Noah wet his lips, noting how Luke’s eyes tracked the movement. “About…becoming who I’m meant to be. Even if it takes time. Even if it means changing how I see myself.”
Luke’s free hand came up to cup Noah’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. “And how do you see yourself, Noah?”
The workshop’s warmth wrapped around them. Tools gleamed on their hooks, projects waited patiently for attention, but allNoah could focus on was the way Luke looked at him—like he was something precious, something worth careful handling.
“I see someone who’s tired of pretending,” Noah whispered. “Someone who wants?—”
Luke’s mouth found his, soft and questioning. Unlike their desperate kiss in the attic, this one held promise instead of panic. Noah leaned into it, hands finding Luke’s shoulders as the kiss deepened. Luke tasted like wine and possibility, like every suppressed want finally breaking free.
They broke apart enough to breathe, foreheads touching. “Noah,” Luke murmured, “if you want to stop?—”
“I don’t.” The words came easily, truth rising to meet need. “I really, really don’t.”
Luke’s smile was brief and brilliant before he kissed Noah again, backing him gently against the workbench. Wood shavings scattered under their feet, and somewhere, a tool clattered to the floor, but Noah couldn’t focus on anything except the way Luke’s hands moved over him—reverent, careful, like he was something worth taking time with.
“Inside,” Luke breathed against his mouth. “Need to?—”
“Yes.” Noah didn’t care that he sounded desperate. He was done pretending this wasn’t exactly what he wanted. What he needed. If Luke gave him time to think, Noah would back away again. He didn’t want that to happen. He was quickly growing addicted to Luke’s kisses, and he was desperate to see what else the man could make him crave.
They stumbled toward Luke’s house, barely breaking apart long enough to navigate the path. The night air cooled their heatedskin, but nothing could dampen the fire building between them. Noah had never felt anything like this—this certainty, this rightness, this bone-deep knowing that everything was about to change.
As Luke guided Noah through the house, Noah couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe wash over him. He’d expected a bachelor pad, but Luke had created a welcoming place to come home to. Even the bedroom was put together in a way he wouldn’t have imagined. The simple space was decorated with tasteful artwork and comfortable furniture—a far cry from the spartan decor of his own room. It felt homey in a way Noah had never experienced, like he was truly getting a glimpse into who Luke was as a person.
Luke turned to face him, his lips parted in invitation. With a shaky breath, Noah closed the distance between them, their bodies pressing against each other. This time, their kiss was slow and exploratory, a gentle brushing of lips that deepened as they explored each other’s mouths. Noah could get addicted to kissing him.
“I don’t want to push you to do anything you’re not ready for,” Luke assured him between kisses. The tips of his fingers dug into Noah’s back as he pulled him closer. “You set the pace, okay?”
That was the last thing Noah wanted. He was in completely uncharted waters here and didn’t want to come across as a bumbling idiot. Now that he’d acknowledged desires he’d tried to tamp down his entire life, he wanted everything. They didn’t have the luxury of slowly exploring one another, of taking weeks to tiptoe toward the bed together. In just a few days, Noah’s life as a single father would come crashing against them.
“I want it all,” Noah admitted. “Don’t let me get in my head.”
“I can do that.” One hand slipped around the front of Noah’s waist. He held his breath as Luke’s fingers drifted lower, coming in contact with the ridge of Noah’s erection pressing against his jeans. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined feeling you stretch my ass with this. And if I’m walking funny tomorrow, you’ll know it’s all because of you.”
Noah swallowed hard. He’d envisioned seeing Luke naked, thought about what it would feel to put Luke on his knees and feel his plump lips around his cock. But not once had he considered anything beyond that.
“Hey, relax.” Still stroking him, Luke’s other hand drifted up Noah’s back. “If you’re not ready for that, or if you want to feel what it’s like to get fucked instead, that’s what we’ll do.”
“I’m…not sure what I want. I never imagined I’d get even this far.” Noah’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he was in his mid-thirties and this inexperienced. “Can you help me?”
“Whatever you need.” Luke pushed him toward the bed, kissing and nipping his neck the entire way. “Just remember to tell me if I’m going too fast.”
Slowly, they began to strip each other’s clothes off, taking turns revealing skin under the moonlit glow. As badly as Noah wished he could see Luke’s body, doing this in the dark felt easier. Their movements were hesitant at first, but as they peeled away layers, they became more natural, more intimate. Luke’s fingers skimmed Noah’s chest, tracing the lines of muscle until his palms rested flat against Noah’s heated skin. Noah reciprocated the caress, tracing the tattoo running down Luke’s left bicep before pressing a soft kiss to it.
Luke led them toward the bed, and they collapsed onto the navy-blue sheets, tangled in a heap of limbs and desire. Their kisses grew bolder now, more demanding as if they couldn’t get enough of each other. Luke’s hands traced lines along Noah’s jaw and down his neck, his touch reverent and curious.
