Vanya soaks in remorse, neck deep in steaming water as Jason shaves at the bathroom basin. Steam lifts lazily between them, not quite thick enough to mask the sliver he can see of Jason in the mirror. It’s only a fragment of the whole man—his chin, one eye, and both lips pressed tight together—but it’s more than enough to read him.

He’s worried.

It’s a glimpse that’s gone after Jason splashes away the last trace of foam. Vanya slowly sinks under the water, wishing it was half as easy to wipe his own slate clean.

He will.

He must.

But not yet, or he’ll spoil this special evening Jason’s arranged, as well as Chantel’s wedding. He waits until Jason slides his razor into his wash bag before quietly speaking. “I’m need to tell something.”

“To me?” Jason’s open expression is guarded for once, both hands clasping the counter behind him, braced as if for bad news.

“Yes.” Vanya draws in a deep breath. “I’m need to tell that this is very best bath. Biggest, deepest, hottest.” His skin attests to that fact, warmly rosy when he sits up.

“Good!” Relief turns Jason’s smile loose. “That’s exactly why I chose it.” He crouches by the side of the deep tub. “I could probably fit in there with you.” He surveys the bathroom, perhaps appraising its construction. “But I wouldn’t risk it without knowing more about when this place was converted.”

“Think two men in a bath could fall through ceiling? Would be very expensive hotel stay.”

“It already is,” Jason absently agrees. “But more importantly, I’m pretty sure this room is above the restaurant. People could still be eating.”

“Might get messy.” Water kisses the tip of Vanya’s chin when Jason grins, boy-like and so open.

It’s so easy to make him happy.

Vanya’s voice comes out softly. “And who could fix big hole in ceiling a week before brother’s wedding?”

“Not me.” Jason’s exhale ripples the water surface. “I’ll be far too busy.”

“Going back to York?”

“I should. If it wasn’t for the kerfuffle over that asbestos, I’d be done there already. Dom’s tearing his hair out about the delay. He’s already got buyers lined up. Plus, I’ve got a massive backlog of office work I’m way behind on.”

Vanya sits up so fast that the water sloshes. “Like filing? I’m could help with that!”

Jason’s kiss is fleeting. “I wish.” He dips a hand under the water, sliding his palm from Vanya’s chest to his navel as he sinks back. “But it’s all a bit more complex than filing. Not saying you couldn’t keep up, but I need to submit plans online and chase up surveyors who won’t talk to anyone but the boss.” He follows the line of Vanya’s ribs next, the tip of his finger pausing over what looks like a star-shaped birthmark. By the time it returns to his chest, Vanya’s stopped listening, too focussed on his nipple, which tightens under Jason’s touch regardless of the hot water.

Jason’s conversation falters as well. “I-I would get you to help me, but—” He leans over the rim of the tub with sudden intent just as Vanya sits up, his inhale catching sharply when Jason sucks the place he just touched, his teeth a delicious rasp that provokes a shiver. Jason’s shirtsleeve gets soaked as he lowers his hand deeper to stroke Vanya’s cock a few times. “You about done in there?”

Vanya quickly stands, head-rush leaving him dizzy when Jason helps him climb out. He clings tight to kiss him, water pooling around their feet, Jason almost as heat-flushed when he speaks. “You know that most people use a towel to dry off, don’t you?” His shirt is saturated, but he’s pleased, happiness transparent as he grabs for a towel. He doesn’t use it to dab at his wet shirt—he drapes it over Vanya’s shoulders with the care he shows so often, encouraging him to steady himself against the basin as he helps to dry him.

His careful actions spark a wish that’s heartfelt.

Vanya wants to show him the same kindness.

He’ll show him every minute—always—if he’s granted asylum.

The marble surrounding the basin is cool against his backside, Jason’s mouth much warmer on his cock when he kneels to blow him, watching Vanya the whole time, assessing each reaction. He slows his movements when Vanya shudders, then repeats the same suck that caused it. Vanya can’t take the way his eyes twinkle, lines feathering from their corners as he smiles around his mouthful. When Jason winks, it almost kills him.

Words slip out while Jason’s busy. “Should fuck.”

Jason pulls off, his voice questioning. “Yeah?” He wipes his chin and stands, lips plump when they kiss. “Bed?”

“No.” Leaving this steam-filled bathroom where his lies feel hazy means facing a reality that’s hard edged. “Should fuck right here.”

“Yeah? It might be more comfortable for you in bed.” Jason combs fingers through Vanya’s damp hair, not pushing for an answer or demanding a decision, giving him time to think.

Vanya turns to face the mirror rather than see that much consideration, bending over when Jason’s hand rests on his shoulder. Jason slides it to the small of his back, its weight firm and reassuring. “You sure you want it here?”

“Yes.” Vanya spreads his legs. “Want with you anywhere.” In this, at least, he’s honest.

“I’ll make it good.” Jason unzips his wash bag. “I promise.”

Vanya groans when Jason kisses the same path his hand traced—shoulder, spine, and small of his back, where nerves spark on contact—closing his eyes when Jason kneels behind him. His eyelids flutter open at the feel of Jason’s mouth there—right there, where he opens. His knees tremble, almost buckling at the touch of Jason’s tongue. The mirror reflects his blown pupils, steam smudging hectic colour that climbs his throat, lower lip whitening where his incisors dig before he sags as sensation overwhelms him. He clutches the taps to stay upright, his fingers clenching and releasing as Jason’s mouth undoes him. Long licks and wet thrusts are followed by first one and then two slick fingers that press inside him very slowly.

He whimpers when Jason pushes deeper.

“I can stop,” Jason soothes as he stands. “I can stop whenever you want. It’s a lot the first time, I remember.” His lips graze Vanya’s shoulder. “But I’m….”

Big. Vanya silently tests his British vocab. Huge and thick and solid.

“I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Jason leans his forehead where he just kissed. “But you feel so good inside. Hot and tight and Jesus.”

Vanya takes it until he’s up against two thick knuckles.

Jason stops, his next kiss apologetic, his fingers perfectly still inside him. He uses his free hand to unclasp one of Vanya’s from its death grip to lace their fingers together. “You could fuck me instead,” he offers, his voice strained, the damp fabric of his trousers doing nothing to mask his hard-on against Vanya’s bare arse. “You don’t have to be the one doing all the taking.”

“You like that?” Vanya pants. “You like to get fucked?”

“Sometimes.” Jason shifts his fingers inside Vanya a tiny fraction. “I like it all with the right person. There’s plenty we can do apart from this. So many different ways to love you.” Another kiss to his shoulder lingers, followed by ones that climb his throat to his ear where Jason makes quiet suggestions. “I could fuck through your thighs right now, if you wanted. Wank you off while I do it. That would be close to fucking.” He grinds his cock against Vanya’s hip as he whispers some more, his words interspersed by kisses. “I love your arse. Love getting my mouth on it. Could easily slick up my cock and rub off between your cheeks.” His voice lowers. “I’ve been thinking about something all weekend long that would make trying things out much easier.” He waits until Vanya lifts his head, their eyes meeting in the mirror. “I want you in my home.”

He can’t know why that sentence is so devastating.

“We don’t have to fuck every time to make everything good,” he continues. “Just having you there more often would be magic.”

There’s a spell in his words, Vanya decides. Some kind of enchantment that has him nodding to what Jason describes next.

“We could kiss on my couch while watching TV, and I’d give you the slowest hand job ever so you missed your last train and had to stay over. That way, we could blow each other the next morning.” His lips are so soft on Vanya’s skin. “I’d spoil you rotten, if you let me. Bring you breakfast in bed. A full English, made exactly to order.”

Vanya pictures it all, gasping when Jason catches the lobe of his ear with his teeth. It isn’t the bite that makes his eyes sting. It’s Jason’s description—small details of a simple future he wants with his whole being.

“We can fuck however, whenever, wherever you want,” Jason insists. “I don’t care about the location, like I don’t care who does what tonight, if at all. It doesn’t matter how long it takes until you’re ready.” His voice lowers. “Just as long as you know that we can stop right now if you don’t want to go any further. This is enough. You’re enough, exactly how you are right now.”

Vanya can’t inhale or exhale, but it isn’t panic that restricts his breathing.

It’s sheer force of will to share at least one truth with Jason.

“I’m want you so much.”

He does his best to rock back against Jason’s knuckles, his eyes closed so tight that his nose wrinkles.

“Hold it.” Jason insists. A click signals the spread of more lube, Jason twisting his fingers until they’re coated. “Okay, but only if you’re—”

Vanya lifts up on tiptoes and something changes, shifting like Jason’s fingers, which slide further inside him and tilt.

His next gasp describes shocked pleasure.

“There you go!” Jason spills relieved praise just like the moans that flow from Vanya each time he’s touched just right. His cock is hard again when Jason reaches around, precome wetting his fingers. “So sexy,” Jason grits out, fucking Vanya steadily now with his fingers, the sound of him lowering his zipper distinct over Vanya’s panting. “Can I?” he asks again. “Tell me you really want this.”

Vanya agrees in English as well as Russian, feeling so strangely empty when Jason pulls out.

Jason curses as he sheds his clinging, damp clothes, and a wrapper crinkles as it’s opened. Then Jason’s behind him again, holding him in place with one hand as he pushes inside, his cock thick and wide and oh God.

It’s a brand new feeling that Vanya can’t quite parse—a stretch that spreads from head to toe when he’s pulled upright against Jason’s chest, supported by one thick forearm. He groans as Jason grinds, barely shifting his hips, while gravity has Vanya sinking until Jason has nothing left to give him.

They rock, hardly moving, yet Vanya’s displaced all over again, neither immigrant nor exile while Jason holds him tightly.

“Can you brace?” Jason asks ages later, his voice a very low rasp.

Vanya does, bending over once more, both palms flat against a mirror that reflects his growing pleasure. There’s a bite of sharp sensation that’s almost overwhelming when Jason takes him harder, but it quickly transforms into something so much better, stronger, sweeter, like the man behind him. Jason fucks him until he sobs, Vanya’s face wet and creased with pleasure, semen streaking across swirls in the marble counter when he comes with a shout.

Jason’s brow is creased too after his own climax, only with concern at Vanya’s trembling. His quietly voiced, “Was that good?” once they’re both in bed, curtains drawn to keep the rest of the world out, is yet another sign of caring that leaves Vanya silent.

Good doesn’t even come close.

He rests against the chest of a man he wants a chance to truthfully love, now much more than ever, trailing fingers that still shake through dark hair that glints with silver, so overwhelmed he’s tongue-tied. It’s devastating, on reflection, that he ever thought a one off hook-up with an online stranger was the best he could hope for.

“Was better than good,” he eventually whispers.

“And I didn’t hurt you?” Jason’s worry comes with a kiss. “You’re really okay?”

He’ll be okay. Vanya nods as Jason holds him.

He’ll be just fine, as long as he gets to keep this.