Jesus fuck, he’s killing me.

When Kieran stepped through the door of Espresso Patronum and my phone buzzed with an alert, it might as well have shot that electric shock directly to my heart. I thought for sure that he would turn around and walk out as soon as he saw it was me.

Then he had the gall to actually like the food at the restaurant I recommended. I’ve never stared at my own food so intensely, worrying that if I watched his tongue and his lips as he ate, my pants wouldn’t be able to hide my interest.

The way he snuggled into the side of my body as we walked to the bar was pure bliss and torture. If I believed in gods or fate or soulmates, I’d have said he was made perfectly to fit next to me. But I don’t and that’s just a bunch of idiotic romantic hooey.

But then. Then he had to go and start stroking my fingers. His long, thin fingers, trailing up and down my own, and it didn’t take any imagination at all to picture how they’d look on my dick.

It’s like my dick has woken up from a decade-long slumber. Sleeping Beauty in my pants.

Only he’s drunk. And nervous. And I would never take advantage of that, but I’m also not letting him drive himself home. I want to discuss everything he said later, when he’s sober, but I also want to make sure he has a later. So, I do what any self-respecting date would do, I bring him home with me. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure this is what someone would do, but it’s too late now.

“Where are we?” Kieran slurs as I pull his car into the driveway of the large Victorian on Oak Street that my nana left to me. I drove my bike to the date. Something to boost my confidence, not realizing I’d need space for two on the ride home. “This place is huge.”

“This is my home,” I say as I lead him to the side door that opens into the kitchen. He settles precariously into a chair while I fix a glass of water. His elbow that rests on the table slowly slides out from under him, and my hand barely makes it in time to catch Kieran from face-planting on my kitchen table.

“Mmph.”

I kneel down beside the chair and scoop him up into my arms.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.”

I lay him out on my bed, and the sight of the red hair against my boring white sheets does funny things to my insides, but I can’t think like that right now. I pull off his red Converse, that are just a little bit hipster and so very Kieran, and strip him down to his boxers, taking care not to look too closely. I will not perv on a vulnerable, drunk Kieran. I set a wastebasket beside the bed and return down the hall to get the water and an aspirin.

“You’re always taking care of me,” Kieran says as I force him to sit and take the medicine. His head is back on the pillow before I can muster a decent response. One that won’t give away the depths that I’m already feeling.

The master bedroom is the only one on the first floor, so the wall-rattling snores that emanate from Kieran the second he’s out won’t disturb Jonathan. He might be hard of hearing, but even he couldn’t miss the vibrations. Christ, I don’t know if it’s because he’s drunk or if he always snores like this, but I resist the urge to take a video. I do want him to still like me in the morning.

I turned the little alcove in my bedroom into my own mini-entertainment area, with a recliner, big TV and computer hooked up to the screen, and smaller screens on either side. I strip to flannel pajama pants and grab an extra blanket from the hall closet before settling in for the night in the recliner. A street light outside the house provides enough light to see Kieran’s chest rising and falling with each snore, the rhythm of it lulling me to sleep despite the volume. Now that I’ve seen him in my bed, I can never un-see it.

* * *

I wake before Kieran – the drunk snoring thankfully wore off along with the alcohol – and take a quick shower before heading into the kitchen. I leave the bedroom door cracked so I can hear when he wakes up. Nothing more disconcerting than waking up and not knowing where you are.

I didn’t hear Jonathan come in last night, and for the first time ever, I’m thankful for it. After putting on a pot of coffee, I turn on low music, and start to prepare a vegan farmer’s skillet.

“Smells good,” a soft voice startles me mid-booty shake.

I am not embarrassed to have been caught dancing while cooking. My pink cheeks are simply from standing over a hot stove. I refrain from biting my fist at the sight of Kieran in the oversized clothes I left out for him with a note, just in case he didn’t want to put back on his tight clothes right when he first woke up. Looks like I was right. He holds up the note between two fingers. “Thanks.”

“Want some coffee?” I grab a mug before he stops me.

“Not much of a coffee drinker. I don’t suppose you have tea?”

I scour the cabinets even though I know I don’t. Maybe some will magically appear, just through sheer will.

“No, sorry. I’ve got juice in the fridge?”

“Perfect.”

He sits in the same seat he flopped in last night, and I set a glass of cold orange juice in front of him.

“Do you need any more aspirin? How are you feeling this morning?”

He slowly drains the glass, each gulp sending waves down his pale, exposed throat. I have to turn back to the skillet so I can focus.

“Like I got chewed up and spit out by a Cocker Spaniel.”

I have to turn around at that. “A Cocker Spaniel specifically?”

His lip curls up. “We had a lot of dogs growing up, but none of them could equal the vileness that could come from Sadie, our Cocker Spaniel. But you’re making a lovely breakfast, so I won’t go into it.”

“Thank you.”

I set the skillet on the table, and he takes a whiff. “It smells delicious. I guess no greasy hangover bacon for you, huh?”

“I have some vegan bacon if you want it.”

“Ha. No.”

I scoop some food out for myself and then hand the spoon to him and bring over a plate of dry toast.

“Hey, you never know what you might like until you try it,” I remind him. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t on his radar before last night.

“I can’t believe I didn’t ask you this last night, but why did you become vegan?”

I keep waiting for him to ask about being here. Does he remember what he said? Does he know I slept on the recliner? What is he thinking? But if he wants to make normal conversation until I lose my damn mind, I guess that’s what we’ll do.

“Some health reasons and some because I’m a big softie, I guess. I hit an age where milk and cheese and I didn’t mix, so giving that up was easy. And I’ve always tried to stay away from beef and pork, preferring chicken or fish. So, in my late twenties, after Dy–, well, once I only had to feed myself, it was a natural progression.”

I know he didn’t miss my slip-up, but thankfully he doesn’t ask about it. We don’t even have a future yet. No need to go dredging up the past.

We eat the rest of the meal in silence, my chewing and swallowing deafening to my own ears. Kieran picks his plate clean but doesn’t go back for seconds. He toys with his fork, until I can’t take it anymore and snatch it from his fingers. He looks up in surprise.

“Sorry, but my nerves are already stretched thin,” I say, carefully placing his fork back beside his plate.

“Why are you nervous?” he asks in a voice that sounds truly baffled.

“How much of last night, especially at the bar, do you remember?”

Kieran grabs his fork, then remembers and puts it back down. His fingers twitch with the need to do something to distract from this awkward conversation. I’d feel bad if I didn’t think it was so necessary.

“Oh, I remember it all. Sorry for everything I said. Then taking your bed. And you made me this nice breakfast.”

I place my hand on top of his. Maybe it will not only still his twitchiness, but the crazy thoughts racing through his head.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” I say. “You have nothing to apologize for. You got a little drunk. That happens to the best of us.”

“Because I’m a lightweight,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“But that can be a good thing. You’ll be a cheap date,” I say with a smile that’s thankfully reciprocated, even if it’s accompanied by a look of disbelief.

“You’d actually want to date me again?”

“Very much so. But we need to discuss something. Last night, when you said you didn’t want to do anything you might regret, did you mean dating me, or were you referring to sex?”

Kieran really isn’t too much of a blusher, but the tips of his ears turn red, and he stares at his empty plate when he mumbles, “Sex. I don’t have a lot of experience. With men, anyway.”

It was the answer I was hoping for. Mostly.

“Can I ask you sort of a weirdly personal question?”

Kieran flashes a genuine smile at that. “Because you haven’t been already?”

I laugh but wait for his eyes to finally rise to meet mine.

“How long did you wait with the women you were with?”

“Not long. But I don’t think the comparison really holds. I knew I wasn’t really interested in them. It isn’t so scary when there aren’t feelings involved. And when you aren’t on the receiving end.”

He looks like he expects me to laugh at that. Not a chance in hell.

“Is that something you want to do? Be on the receiving end.”

“Yes.” He breathes the word and my entire body sings with it.

“I’ll make you a deal. Today is the first of April. If you really would like to continue to go out with me,” I say and pause for his nod, “Then we’ll give it a month. I’d like to keep seeing you, and you can take that time to build confidence in your feelings and make sure that you’re really ready for that next step. And just to throw it out there, I’d also be more than willing to be on the receiving end.”

Should I feel guilty over the grin plastered on my face? What I’m proposing is perfectly logical, yet it feels like I’m luring him in, the beautiful innocent boy into my bear trap. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve gone for eight months without sex and the thought of only having to wait one more makes my libido as hungry as a fucking wolf.

Kieran cocks his head, probably exactly like his Cocker Spaniel would have, and I know I have his interest.

“Perfectly prudish behavior. Kissing at most. Hand holding, if you’ll let me. But sex in any form is completely off the table. That way, it gives you time to figure out if you really want it, and not just because you have a very, very willing partner.”

Kieran smirks at my emphasis, but returns to his shy behavior when he asks, “Are you sure you’re okay with waiting?”

I refrain from saying that I would do so much more than just wait for him.

“Of course. Is this something you think you’d like to try?”

Kieran’s movements are hesitant but his face determined as he stands from the table and approaches me. His touch burns into my shoulder, and I push back from the table, thinking he wants to take this discussion elsewhere. Or maybe just leave.

Instead he turns and sits delicately onto my lap. He doesn’t straddle me in a sexy way, although having his ass anywhere near my body is definitely sexy. I grip his waist and he relaxes into me, not fully leaning, but not so rigid as before.

He turns his deep brown eyes to mine, searching my face. He raises his hand like he’s going to touch me, but pulls back, so I take his hand in mine and do it for him. I cup his palm around my cheek and give a gentle nod, tickling his flesh with my short beard. A flare of his nostrils tells me he isn’t unaffected by it, but I try to focus on showing him affection and not lust. My dick isn’t exactly on board with that plan, and he must surely feel it, but his attention remains on my face.

Fingertips trace underneath my eyes and draw out at the corners, like he’s trying to commit my face to sense memory. I hold perfectly still, allowing Kieran to control this moment, but that doesn’t extend to my vocal cords. He runs a finger along the seam of my lips and they part with a groan.

When his lips finally brush mine, the kiss is so soft and gentle, he must surely feel me tremble underneath him. He presses his lips to me, again and again, and a kittenish tongue licks up the bow of my lips. Still, I let him play until he’s had his fill of tender kisses. I don’t think I’ll ever have mine.

“Are you sure you want to wait?” Kieran whispers into my ear as he nips at my lobe. A wiggle lets me know my arousal hasn’t escaped his notice.

“I’m sure.” I manage to grit the words through my teeth, a difficult feat with the delicious pressure of his ass rubbing against me.

He giggles at my discomfort. Beautiful teasing devil. “In that case, yes, I’d like to take you up on your offer. Now, where can a man get a cold shower around here?”