"I need the day to think about it," he says. "To get my head right. But tonight. I want to."
"Then tonight it is." I turn my head on the pillow and look at him over my shoulder. He's flushed from chest to hairline, his eyes dark, his lips parted, his hands still on my body, cock throbbing visibly against my skin.
"I'll be ready," I say. "I'll shower again before bed because I'm a gentleman and because you deserve a freshly washed canvas for your artistic debut. I'll set the mood. Candles maybe. Soft music. I'll put on Barry White."
"Tex."
"Luther Vandross? Is that more your speed? I can do Luther. I can definitely do Luther."
He leans forward and kisses the back of my neck to shut me up and it works instantly because his mouth on my neck turns my brain to static. He rests his forehead between my shoulder blades and I feel him breathe me in.
"Tonight," he says against my skin.
"It's a date then."
He rolls off me and lies beside me. His hand finds mine on the mattress and our fingers lace together and we lie there in the morning light, naked, warm, planning. His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand.
"Tex?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for thinking about this. About me. About what I need. Nobody's ever done that before."
"You're the most important thing in my world. I always think about what you need, baby. Ready to get up?"
We go downstairs to start the day. He makes the coffee because he's started doing that, learning my coffee maker the way he learned the bar. He hands me a mug and our fingers brush on the handle and the look he gives me over the rim of his cup is a promise.
Tonight.
I've got all day to think about it. All day to anticipate it. The best kind of waiting. The kind where you know what's coming. And what's coming is everything
The bar closes at eleven. Sheila counts the register, tells us goodnight and leaves. Stormy locks the front door, turns around and looks at me across the empty bar.
He's been looking at me like that all day. Hopefully, getting his head right.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey."
"Good night tonight," I say. "Solid crowd."
Stormy frowns at me. "Are we really going to stand here and talk about the crowd?"
"No. I was stalling. I'm a little nervous."
His eyebrows go up. "You're nervous? Why?"
"I'm a man who is about to have a new experience with the person he loves most in the world. Yes. I'm nervous. I know this is shocking because I project an aura of unshakable confidence at all times, but underneath this exterior is a man who is slightly terrified."
The smile starts slow. "Don't be scared, Tex. I'll take care of you."
"I like the sound of that, I really do." I hold out my hand. "Shower first?"
He takes my hand. We go upstairs. The shower is our place now. It's where this started, the first night, skin to skin under warm water. It's where we learned about each other. It makes sense that we come back to it tonight.
The water comes on warm. We step in together and for a few minutes we just stand there, his back against my chest, the water running over both of us, my arms around his waist. No rush. No urgency. Just the feeling of his body against mine and the steam rising around us and the particular intimacy of being clean and naked.
I wash him. His shoulders first, hands sliding over the lean muscle, thumbs pressing into the knots he's carried all day. He sighs, head tipping forward under the spray, and I work lower. Down his spine, palms flat, feeling every ridge of bone, every shift of muscle under skin. I soap his lower back, fingers tracing the dimples above his ass, then cupping the firm curves, kneading gently. He lets out a soft groan, hips rocking back into my touch just slightly.
