Page 63 of Keep

“You’re asking me to top you.”

“Yes.”

“You know what that involves.”

“Uh, I have a general understanding, yes.” Still formal. Still crimson. Still holding Chad’s hips like an anchor.

Easy. Don’t make this weird. Don’t make this bigger than he can carry right now.

“Okay,” Chad said. “Let’s go to bed.”

He climbed off Hank’s lap and held out his hand.

Hank took it.

The bedroom. Curtains half-drawn. The bed was made with hospital corners because, of course, it was. Debussy still going in the other room, faint through the hallway.

Chad pulled his shirt over his head. Hank was working his own buttons—faster than their first time, but his fingers weren’t steady.

“Hey,” Chad said. “Slow down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

Hank looked at his own hands. “I suppose I am.”

Chad crossed to him and took over the buttons. One at a time. Hank’s hands dropped. His breathing was audible.

“You’re sure,” Chad said.

“I’m sure.”

Chad slid the shirt off his shoulders. Ran his hands across Hank’s chest—the dark hair, the warmth, the heartbeat hammering under his palms. He kissed him. Slow. A kiss that said we have time. Hank’s arms came around him and they stood there for a minute, skin on skin from the waist up.

They got the rest off without ceremony. Chad let his clothes hit the floor. Hank folded his trousers over the chair—and caught Chad watching him do it.

“Force of habit,” Hank said.

“It’s cute.”

“It’s neurotic.”

“Also cute.”

Chad reached for the bedside lamp.

“Leave it on,” Hank said.

They fell onto the bed together. Hank huffed a laugh as Chad landed half on top of him, and the tension broke just enough to make the room breathable.

Chad kissed his way down Hank’s body. Took his time. Throat, collarbone, sternum. Each nipple—the caught breath Hank made, surprised every time, like he kept forgetting. Lower. He took Hank into his mouth and felt the hand settle on his head—not pushing, just resting there. He worked him slow, warm-up not the main event, and listened.

After a few minutes, he pulled off and reached for the nightstand. Condom, lube. The CVS bag was long gone—they’d graduated to having the stuff just there. He held up the condom.

“Turn over,” Chad said.

Hank turned over.