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“From your reaction, Ren, we have to watch it.”

“There are rings,” I said, after I could have ended the conversation there. But I did enjoy the anime, and it was worth watching. If a little too . . . relevant.

“Rings?” His right eyebrow arched.

“They exchange rings.”

Both eyebrows went up this time. “They get married?”

“It’s symbolic.” There were church bells and choir singers and rings, so not particularly subtle in its symbolism.

“So they’re friends who buy rings for each other?” He laughed. “Right.” He shifted on the couch again, angling toward me now. “So, let me get this straight. World famous skater shows up and changes another skater’s whole life. They train together, fall for each other, and have to deal with competition getting mixed up with all the emotional shit.”

“Victor coaches Yuri, but essentially, yes.”

His eyebrows jumped. “And one of them is Japanese?”

“I’m English, if you’re implying something. But also, most of the characters are Japanese. It’s a Japanese anime.”

Cam laughed, softer now. “You’ve seen all of it?”

“Yes.” So many times. I could recite much of it, word for word. I’d even danced it on the ice years ago. Thankfully, nobody had filmed it.

“More than once?”

I stared at the screen. “The skating is technically accurate in places. They employed a figure skater⁠—”

“Wait, hold up.” He was almost laughing now. “You’re watching gay anime for the skating?”

“Yaoi.” I tried not to laugh too. “The skating is good.”

“So, you watched it repeatedly to check the edge technique?” He laughed, one hand gripping the back cushions. “Not the kissing?”

I laughed properly now, chuckling deeply. It was absurd. I was absurd. Of course I’d watched it for the gay overtones.

“You’re such a bullshitter. I love it.” He crossed the couch, got a knee over my legs and straddled my lap, and then he was kissing the end of my laughter off, kissing me fast but shallow. I responded fast too, hands going to his waist, then sweeping up his back.

His warm hands cupped my face, and he lifted my jaw, kissing down. I tilted my head back, answering his hunger with my own. The humor vanished, evaporating from the heat of him, and a fresh seriousness took us both. I could feel myself falling into this. I wouldn’t be able to stop.

Now was not the time. He was hurt and vulnerable.

I broke the kiss and turned my face away, breathing hard. He peered down, pupils blown.

“Cam, wait.” I took hold of his wrists but didn’t push him off.

“I want to.”

“But you’ve been through something⁠—”

“I can’t think about that. I want to think about us.” He pulled my head back around to face him, hands still on my cheeks and looked deep into my eyes. “I need this, and I don’t want to think, I want to feel. I want to feel you, Ren.” His hips rolled, grinding his hardness against my abs. “I want you to fuck me.” He stroked the words against my lips. “Will you?”

I shivered.

I knew what he was asking.

Until now, we’d gotten each other off with our hands and mouths but hadn’t done much more than that.

There had always been a distance, a sense that there was a line we hadn’t crossed. A line I hadn’t crossed. He would have, before now. I’d been the one holding back.