Dinner went better than Michael could’ve imagined and was over before he was ready. Food came and went. He must’ve eaten, but he barely remembered it. Gavin kept him mesmerized. He’d driven, so he could get the tour of Gavin’s house after dinner and then leave. Michael didn’t think Gavin was the type to keep him if he didn’t want to stay, but Michael needed the illusion of control when it came to this man. As it was, Gavin touched him too much. Every time Michael turned around, the man set his hand on the small of Michael’s back or cupped his elbow, steering him. He’d held Michael’s hand in the restaurant and set his hand on Michael’s leg in the car. There wasn’t a single brush of skin Michael wasn’t aware of as it happened.

As Gavin unlocked the front door to his two-story home and led Michael inside, Michael’s heartrate increased and his stomach turned over. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous. Even though Michael knew he could leave at any time, he wasn’t positive he wanted to. That was the scariest part.

“Would you like a bottle of water?”

Michael’s dry throat made it hard to answer. “I’d love one. Thank you.”

Gavin turned on the lights in the living room and motioned toward a brown leather couch. “I’ll be back.” He tossed his keys on the coffee table before exiting the room.

Michael sat. Everything was perfect. The hardwood floors shone bright. The oak tables were perfectly polished. There didn’t seem to be a speck of dust anywhere. Trophies lined a bookcase while leather-bound books filled another. A large flat-screen hung over a stone fireplace. Michael didn’t know what to do with his eyes. Giving in to his discomfort, he leaned to the side and dug his phone out of his back pocket.

MichaelThePA: I built a static fusion fence around our camp.

#1HatTrick: Hey! What are you up to tonight?

MichaelThePA: On a date, of sorts.

#1HatTrick: It must not be that great of a date if you’re building a fence.

MichaelThePA: I did it earlier. Things are going better than I expected, I suppose.

#1HatTrick: Question. Is this the guy you used to know?

MichaelThePA: Yes.

#1HatTrick: The plot thickens...

Michael’s fingers hovered over the buttons. He didn’t know how to respond. Gavin reappeared with a cold bottle of water for Michael.

“Texting someone else already. Am I boring you?”

“Not at all,” Michael said, setting the phone on the coffee table. “I was clearing out some notifications on an online game I play,” he added as he accepted the bottle of water.

“That’s good,” Gavin said, setting one knee on the couch beside Michael and leaning in, as if to kiss him. “I thought maybe I needed to step up my game.”

Michael turned his head without thought. A spike of fear raced through him at the thought of Gavin’s lips on his. Instead, Gavin pressed a light kiss to the spot beneath Michael’s ear. He didn’t back away.

“What’s the worst that could happen if you kissed me?”

Michael swallowed. He didn’t want to answer. His tongue didn’t care. “I could remember what it was like.”

Gavin’s lips skimmed lower. He wasn’t giving up. “You already remember me.”

“No.” Even Michael heard it for the lie it was.

With a sigh, Gavin straightened away. “So, I have to remind you,” he said, taking away the water he’d just given Michael and setting it next to his phone. He pulled Michael to his feet.

“What are you doing?” Michael’s panic couldn’t have been more evident.

Gavin’s low chuckle kept Michael focused on him. “I’m giving you a tour of my house and refreshing your memory of me.” Michael’s shoulders relaxed. A tour was fine as long as they avoided the bedroom. Gavin’s house was gorgeous, but that wasn’t surprising considering he lived in the same neighborhood they’d grown up in, two streets over from where Michael’s parents still lived. Gavin held his hand as he headed for the hall. Michael wondered if he should drag his feet and bring this whole thing to an end. Gavin motioned at the kitchen, waving toward it as they passed. “The kitchen, obviously.”

“Everyone needs one,” Michael said with a nod. It was a nice kitchen too. Everything was granite and marble. Gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as Gavin, though, and that was why Michael couldn’t stop staring at the man’s back. He’d seen it without a shirt many times, but Gavin had changed a lot. How did his chest look now? Had his light smattering of hair turned into a bear’s chest? Michael bit the inside of his cheek to keep from asking.

“The bathroom,” Gavin said as they passed another open doorway.

This time, Michael didn’t bother looking away. “Another great amenity every home needs.”

“My bedroom is at the end of the hall.” Michael’s gaze slid that way. The room at the end of the hall was dark. Curiosity ate him alive, but Gavin turned left and headed for a set of stairs. Every house on this street was built on a hill. You entered in the house already on the second floor. Michael’s curiosity doubled. Why did Gavin need so much space? “This is what you came to see,” he said over his shoulder.

Michael’s breath caught at the back of his throat at the glimmer in Gavin’s eyes. “Is it?”

Gavin nodded and kept moving. At the bottom of the stairs, he flipped on a light switch and lit up a huge room. Michael’s heart stopped before racing up again. It was an art studio. The whole place was like looking at the inside of Gavin’s gorgeous mind. Michael couldn’t stop trying to look in every direction at once.

“Wow,” he breathed, moving toward a nearby easel. A watercolor image half complete sat waiting for Gavin’s return. Michael couldn’t tell yet what it was meant to be, but he knew Gavin had a vision for it. He moved to a table where several smaller canvases sat drying. Michael eyed each one. He froze when he came to an image of himself. “It’s me.”

Gavin moved in behind him. His chest brushed Michael’s back as he leaned over Michael’s shoulder. “You're beautiful. I’ve always loved painting you.”

“The detail is amazing,” Michael said, ignoring Gavin’s compliment. “I can’t believe you did this from memory.”

“I don’t forget much,” Gavin said, his mouth closer to the back of Michael’s neck than Michael expected. He fingered the back of Michael’s collar. “Like the freckle on your nape.” He tugged Michael’s shirt aside and touched his lips to the spot he described. “I’ve kissed it a hundred times,” Gavin said against Michael’s skin.

Michael couldn’t breathe. He white-knuckled the edge of the table, clinging to control. His cock beat a pattern against the inside of his zipper. A tiny voice in his head screamed for him to shove Gavin away. He couldn’t move. Gavin’s lips moved over Michael’s freckle again. His hands landed on Michael’s upper arms and squeezed. He tugged, drawing Michael back against his hard body. The man’s lips moved from Michael’s nape to his shoulder. A pant escaped Michael. He wanted this, but he couldn’t let it happen. Gavin would wreck him. Michael had survived him once. He wasn’t as sure he could do it twice.

“I should go,” Michael said, sounding weak even to his ears.

“Okay,” Gavin said, stepping back. He sounded disappointed. He may as well have punched Michael. Michael lost his breath and nearly gasped from the pain in his chest.

He scrambled to fix it. Michael turned and wrapped his arms around Gavin, hugging him. He held tight. Gavin’s arms encircled him. They held each other. Michael didn’t know how long it went on. He didn’t want their embrace to end. “Thank you for going to dinner with me,” Michael said quietly.

“I enjoyed myself,” Gavin said. His hold tightened as if he didn’t want to let Michael go.

Michael flattened his palms against Gavin’s back. The man’s hard muscles bunched and rolled beneath Michael’s hands, as if he fought not to attack Michael.

“Spend tomorrow with me,” Michael said before he could think about it. He wasn’t ready to give up yet.

“Okay.”

At Gavin’s agreement, Michael gave the man one final squeeze before heading for the stairs without looking back. He was scared of himself. If he looked, he might stay, and then this would be over.

* * *

Gavin watched Michael go. It killed him not to call out, stopping him. He had to plant his feet to keep from giving chase. Michael wanted to see him tomorrow. It would have to be enough. The instant Michael was out of sight, Gavin moved to the easel. That freckle drove him. Gavin had an image in his mind. He could see each time he’d kissed that spot as if he did so now in front of a mirror. Gavin needed to move the energy of the moment from his mind and onto the canvas board before it made him insane.

As Gavin painted, images of Michael swirled in his head. He’d waited a long time to come back to Michael. The last thing Gavin had wanted was to make the same mistakes. He’d needed to grow up and make sure he could handle this open life before going after the only man he wanted. Now, it was harder to be patient than he expected.

He could still hear their every whispered conversation and picture every heated glance. His chest ached and his body screamed. Gavin scared even himself with this obsession. If Michael was a little freaked out, and that was why he’d run away tonight, Gavin couldn’t blame him. Michael had moved on—lived another life. He should be scared of Gavin because Gavin hadn’t moved on. One hundred percent, he knew he was crazy. That Michael was a sickness. At the end of the day, his mental stability didn’t matter. No one would love Michael the way Gavin did.

Gavin’s phone buzzed. He set his brush aside and dug the device from his pocket.

Michael: What are you doing right now?

Gavin: Painting.

Michael: Get back to it then.

A smile tugged at the corners of Gavin’s mouth. He had to take a breath to control his heartbeat. Had Michael even made it home yet? Gavin checked his watch. He blinked at the time. Two hours had passed while he’d withdrawn into himself.

Gavin: I will, but first tell me what you’re doing.

Gavin chewed his bottom lip and stared at his phone, anticipating. Thankfully, Michael didn’t make him wait long.

Michael: I’m in bed, but I can’t sleep. In truth, I don’t sleep much anymore.

Without moving his gaze from his phone, Gavin headed for a recliner in the corner. It was old and ragged, but broken in perfectly. Gavin crashed there most nights when he lost track of time while painting. He kicked back and fired off another text.

Gavin: There’s an old chair down here. Usually, I paint until I’m exhausted, and then fall into it half asleep. Why don’t you sleep?

Michael: My mind is busy, I guess.

Gavin: What’s on your mind tonight?

He held his breath and waited, needing to know what thoughts kept Michael’s mind stirring.

Michael: You. Us. I don’t know. I keep remembering things, and then I can’t forget. Then I start obsessing.

Gavin: What did you remember tonight?

Michael: That weekend Marshall went to Arkansas to tour a college.

The muscles in Gavin’s stomach contracted. Lust coiled in his gut. They’d been alone for an entire weekend. It had been forty-eight hours out of time—a suspension of reality. Gavin had caught a glimpse of a different life. They hadn’t made love. That was one line Michael never let him cross as if he’d known Gavin wasn’t man enough yet. But they’d done everything else, and Gavin hadn’t stopped smiling for two weeks afterward. His hand slid to his groin. He readjusted his hardening cock.

Gavin: That was a good weekend, and an exhausting one. The memory should put you to sleep.

Michael: Get back to painting. I have to think about what I want to do tomorrow.

Gavin: Yes, sir. Goodnight.

Michael: Goodnight.

Gavin stared at the face of his phone until it went black. Even then, he didn’t look away. His mind was in bed with Michael, debating how they should spend their time. One day soon, his fantasies would be real. There was no other option for him.

* * *

With his phone resting against his chest, Michael stared at the darkened ceiling. After texting Gavin, that weekend they’d spent alone years ago seemed even clearer in his mind than before. It was that weekend that hurt the most once they were over. He’d been certain they were only months away from living that way always, the moment they were free of school and gossipy teens. They hadn’t held on long enough.

Still, that weekend lived in his head. The way Gavin’s mouth felt on his skin when Michael was on the edge of orgasm. Damn. It had been so goddamn long since anyone touched him. He could still feel Gavin’s body against him from when they’d hugged earlier. Gavin’s muscles were fucking amazing. The way they’d pressed against each other — sternum to hip — Michael craved so much more. He wished he’d been brave enough to reach for more. Michael’s hand dipped beneath the covers. He readjusted his slowly hardening cock. His warm palm felt too good against his erection once it was there. Michael closed his eyes and rubbed his cock through his underwear. It wasn’t enough. He set his erection free.

His lips parted on a breath when his fingers encircled his dick. Still, a slight dissatisfaction filled him. It wasn’t Gavin. Gavin’s almost-amber gaze wasn’t watching his every reaction, ensuring his every move brought Michael the most pleasure. It was too late to stop. Michael pushed the covers down until cool air brushed his exposed cock. He stroked himself while picturing it was Gavin touching him. Adding a second hand to the mix, Michael cupped his balls and squeezed as he jacked off. Fantasies of lowering himself on Gavin’s hard dick fired to life behind Michael’s closed lids. Michael felt so fucking empty. He was tempted to jump from the bed and grab a toy, but he was too far gone. Pressure already beat at his crown, begging for release. The memory of Gavin’s expression when he came slammed into Michael’s mind. An orgasm hit Michael hard. All the air left his lungs as Gavin’s name left his lips. Wave after wave of cum coated his skin. He squeezed out every drop.

Michael didn’t move once it was over. Even as the air cooled the mess covering him, he didn’t budge an inch. His mind went into lockdown. Pain filled every inch of Michael, crippling him. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, falling back into Michael’s hair. It was too late. The invisible weight crushing the air from his lungs told the whole story. The clock was already ticking down. He didn’t have to worry about Gavin getting under his skin. The man had never left, and it was only a matter of time before Gavin destroyed him, because Michael wouldn’t wake up tomorrow and be the person Gavin wanted. He wouldn’t wake up tomorrow and be Marshall.