A bad idea can sometimes be the right idea for a particular moment.

And I certainly did think kissing Taran might have been a bad idea. I’d wanted it since the minute I met him, of course—I wouldn’t have admitted it, but even the part of me that hated casual hookups had to acknowledge that Taran was too beautiful a person to pass up.

But something had changed in me tonight or changed in both of us. When Taran had opened up to me, I felt like I was finally seeing a glimpse of the real him.

So no matter what we did tonight—and even if it all only happened once—it wouldn’t be “casual.” It couldn’t be, at least for me. Because in reality I already felt like tonight had been more intimate than any casual sex could be. Simply hearing Taran bare his soul to me meant more than many sexual encounters I’d had in my life.

And that’s why I didn’t hesitate to kiss him at all.

“Patrick—are you sure you want this?” Taran said as I moved slightly back. I ran my thumb down the side of his cheek, memorizing his face, still in disbelief that I was kissing him.

“I’m certain of it,” I said. I brought my thumb to his lower lip, brushing it against him before leaning in and bringing my lips to his again.

And it felt like a question that had been growing in me for days had finally been answered. Finally I was giving myself over to him. Nothing about it felt rushed or cheap like a one-night stand. I had imagined that Taran might be too much of a player to really know how to go slow and take his time, but it couldn’t be further from the truth.

He was an incredible kisser. He pulled me close, running his hands along the sides of my body, gripping against me. After a while, he kissed my neck, burying a hand in my hair as he pressed his lips to me. His every move was careful and deliberate, his hands strong against me.

It felt like he wanted this just as much as I did. Maybe even like he needed it.

Within moments, I wanted more, needed more, and the seat of the bench and our positions were too constricting. I kissed Taran’s jawline, hovering close to his ear.

“Come with me,” I said. Taran didn’t miss a beat, standing and taking my outstretched hand as I led him over to the nearest gazebo. Our plastic cups still sat, mostly empty, abandoned on the bench.

“So this was the dare? I’m something that scares you?” he asked as we entered and he made his way to the cushioned seat. The moonlight spilled in through the openings, but the gazebo felt very private compared to sitting out on the bench. It felt like we were safe in here, encased in our own little private world.

“Scares isn’t exactly the right word,” I said, walking toward him and stepping in between his legs where he sat. “But I probably would have done it whether you dared me to or not.”

“Oh really?” Taran said, grinning up at me. He gripped his hands around me again, squeezing my ass. “Was that part of your plot all along? Taking me to the park, not to kill me, but to make out with me like we’re kids in high school?”

“I’m hoping to do more than just make out with you,” I said. A surge of adrenaline ran through me. Jesus, I was being bold. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been like this with someone else. It was oddly electric, like for tonight, I could be the flirty, fun version of myself. I hadn’t even known that person existed inside me. But I couldn’t think about anything other than how much I wanted Taran, and that was okay. I gave myself permission.

“Wow,” Taran said, running his hand down the side of my body. His touch was a thrill, and I realized abruptly that I was hard—I probably had been for many minutes. Could he see it through my jeans? I hoped that he could.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Taran said. He gripped my shirt, then, and pulled my face down towards his to kiss me hard. As I was pulled close, my leg pressed up against his inner thigh, and then I felt it, unmistakably--the outline of his cock, pressing through his jeans. He was just as hard as I was. When I felt it, I couldn’t help but let out a small moan—from what I could tell, he seemed well endowed. Because of course he was.

I reached my hand between us, running my hand along his thigh and up higher. Taran bit my bottom lip softly, rolling his hips to meet my touch, and I squeezed the outline of his cock through his jeans. It elicited a loud moan from him that I hadn’t been expecting. We were in a very secluded place, to be sure, but he was loud enough that anyone on the trail may have been able to hear.

“Shh,” I whispered at him, smiling and holding my finger up to his lips. He just kissed my finger, grinning at me mischievously, looking up at me from under dark eyelashes. He took my fingertip into his mouth, sucking on it lightly.

“Oh God,” I muttered, feeling my cock twitch at the sensation.

“Mmm,” he sighed softly around my finger before letting it free. I raked my fingers along his chest, down further to his stomach until they hitched against his waistband. I unbuckled his belt and zipper fast, sliding down onto the ground in front of him. He was sitting, leaning back on the seat, gazing down at me between his legs. I pulled down roughly on his clothes, and his cock was freed.

It was gorgeous, even in the dim light. Even just the sight of him was enough to make my cock throb hard in my pants. If I were to touch myself, I knew that I would come in a matter of seconds. It really had been a long time since I’d been with anyone, and maybe years since I’d been with anyone as attractive as Taran.

I realized after a couple moments that I was just staring, and Taran reached a hand out and stroked his fingers gently through my hair.

“You still okay, Patrick?” he said softly.

“Oh, I’m more than okay,” I muttered. “Overwhelmed is more like it. I… really want you.”

“Then take me,” he said, tightening his fist briefly in my hair, giving it a small tug. I leaned into his touch before leaning lower and pressing a soft kiss against the inside of his thigh.

I moved slow, even though I didn’t want to. I wanted everything, right now, and I definitely should have been going fast in the middle of a park. But my instincts kicked in, and all I wanted to do was tease: tease him as slowly as I could with my lips and hands.

I kissed up his thigh until I reached the base of his cock. I watched as it twitched, and in the moonlight, I could see the shine of precum around his tip, slick and wet.

I gripped my hands hard against his thighs as I drew my tongue up in one long stripe, from the base of his cock all the way to the tip. He let out a long, slow moan as I finally wrapped my lips around the tip, dragging my tongue across it and swirling around him.

His hips rocked under me involuntarily. When I glanced up at him, his lips were parted, brows furrowed. His hand stayed gripped against my head. I couldn’t help but feel his every move—every tremble and twitch, every small intake of breath.

“Oh God, please, Patrick…” he muttered.

And before long, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, stroking along with the pace of my mouth around his tip. I’d been told many times that I was good at blowjobs—and yes, I knew a lot of guys and girls had always been told the same thing.

But it had always felt like something more to me. It wasn’t just a secondary substitute for other types of sex. It was unbelievably intimate, my mouth something I wanted to be able to give to someone as much as any other part of my body. I explored every curve and dip of his cock with the tip of my tongue, relishing every little sound he made.

“God damn it, you are really good at this,” Taran uttered after a few minutes. “I’m not usually… so close so soon, but….”

I moaned around him, and his words trailed off. I quickened my pace a little as I began to feel Taran’s hips bucking upward softly to meet my rhythm. And when I switched up the circles I was making with my tongue, I must have hit something that Taran loved because he kind of lost it.

“Jesus, that is amazing,” he said, his voice a little too loud again. “Don’t stop, Patrick, please do not fucking stop.”

So I didn’t. I only went faster, giving Taran more of exactly what he wanted. I was only dimly aware of the fact that we were in public, now—I was way too preoccupied with how sexy he looked every time I glanced up at him, how strangely affectionate I felt for him in this moment. He had given so much to me earlier in the night, and now I was giving something to him. Something he so clearly deserved.

And sure, yes, I also felt kind of proud. Taran had sex with all kinds of hot people all the time, and yet he was still lavishly praising my techniques. I hadn’t expected him to dislike any blowjob, but I hadn’t exactly thought I’d get a reaction like this.

It made everything ten times more worth it. And made me ten times as hard, straining under my pants, aching just from touching him.

“Oh God, Patrick,” Taran uttered moments later as I began to feel his thighs shaking underneath me. I kept my arm strong against his thigh as I worked my mouth around his cock.

“Mmm?” I hummed around him, knowing he could feel the sensation of my voice along his cock.

“I’m so close,” he uttered, gazing down at me. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna come.”

I didn’t relent. I could practically feel the orgasm building inside him, and I worked for it like it was a prize I had to win. When he moaned my name, I knew he was letting go. His body tensed under me, and his grip around my hair got even tighter as he came, shuddering beneath me as he thrust inside my mouth over and over.

I swallowed around him, keeping my mouth exactly where it was on his cock as he came. He then relaxed under me, sinking back down into the gazebo chair. I swallowed around him, sucking so gently as he caught his breath before lifting off his cock.

He looked utterly beautiful and completely tranquil. His eyes were barely open as he gazed down at me, now stroking my hair gently instead of gripping it tight. I kissed the top of his thigh a few more times, resting there between his legs.

And then Taran was pulling me upward, hoisting me up until my face was at level with his again, and he pressed his lips to mine. He kissed me almost more passionately than he had before; he was possessive, maybe even grateful.

I remained dimly shocked by his reactions. I’d been with a couple guys before who went limp in every way after sex—not only were they done, but they didn’t want to seem to interact with me at all afterward, let alone kiss. I’d assumed Taran would be like that, and I’d braced myself for it, knowing that our magical little moment of connection probably wouldn’t last for long after I’d blown him.

But nothing like that happened at all. His hands still trailed over my body, fingertips running softly along me as I stood up, brushing some stray flower petals from my jeans.

And after Taran zipped his own pants back up, his palm landed on my cock, squeezing me gently.

“Let me return the favor,” he said quietly, gazing up at me.

“Do you want to?” I asked. “You certainly don’t have to right now, if you don’t want.”

“God, do I fucking want to, Patrick,” he said, his voice slightly gravelly. “You are… that was… incredible.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

Suddenly, Taran stood up, tightening one hand around my hip. I’d almost forgotten that he was a little taller than me, and now, standing across from him so close up again was intoxicating. I always had a thing for taller men, but I hadn’t actually been with many before.

“Come back to my apartment,” he said before kissing me once more.

“Now?”

He looked at me plainly, then rolled his eyes. “No, in two weeks. Of course now.” He reached out his hand to mine, gripping it tight and pulling me out of the gazebo and back onto the grass.

The whole world felt different than it had just an hour ago. It wasn’t as if giving a blowjob had suddenly changed my life or anything, but the night certainly had taken a different direction than I’d ever expected. As we walked past the bench, I picked up our plastic cups, taking one last sip before discarding them in a nearby recycling can.

Right as we started off into the grass that led up the hill, Taran paused. He furrowed his brow.

“What’s that sound?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I heard it too but couldn’t place it. “It sounds like… a hissing? Is it cicada season yet?”

“I didn’t think so….”

And as if on cue, the hissing sound got even louder in the background. At first, I was doubly confused, but then when I felt a sudden burst of cool wetness along my back, I knew what was happening.

Sprinklers had turned on throughout the entire park, and Taran and I were smack dab in the center of all of them. The spray shimmered in the evening light, and for a moment I didn’t move at all, just stared around me as I became increasingly wet. Because it was beautiful. Arcs of water all around us, dancing across the air, bringing the park alive in a way that only highlighted how still and serene it had been before.

“Holy shit,” Taran said, leaning back, still keeping his hands tight against my forearms. He had a huge smile on his face, and mine came soon after. He laughed, leaning in to kiss me quickly, water dripping down each of our faces.

And then we ran for it. Ran up the hill toward the path, for no reason, really—we were already soaked and were going to be soaked for the entire walk home. But an unspoken joy had seemed to spring up out of the ground with the sprinklers, silly and spirited and romantic.

I was having more fun than I could remember having in years. And when we finally made it out of the park, all the way up to the dirt path, sheltered by the thick layers of trees, I pulled him into another kiss. The water droplets were cold and wet on his lips, a contrast to the warmth of his tongue. I pressed myself up against him, rutting my hips and my cock onto him, getting hard all over again.

“God, I fucking want you,” I said when I broke away, nibbling gently at his shoulder and then his neck.

“You have me, Patrick,” he responded, reaching around to grip my ass through my soaked jeans. “Now let’s go. I’m impatient.”

“Not as much as I am,” I said, bringing his hand briefly against my hard cock. He just grinned at me.

We made it back up the hill in record time. Despite the fact that the night was the warmest of the season so far, the breeze picked up along our walk, and by the time we made it to Taran’s loft, I was practically shivering. My clothes were matted to my body, and the wetness had soaked through to my feet.

After walking through the front door and taking off our shoes and socks, Taran turned to me with the same chilled-to-the-bone look. “Shower?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” I responded. Nothing in the world sounded better.

He led me down the hall to his bedroom. “We’re going to use my shower,” Taran said, already pulling off his shirt. “It’s honestly my favorite part of this entire apartment. It’s way bigger than any shower needs to be for one person."

“Good thing we have two people here, then,” I said. I paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his room. It was mostly clean and tidy, and I knew Taran hadn’t even lived here long enough to have too much clutter. But one thing caught my eye: a book at the side of the bed that had a big bookmark sticking out of it.

“Rose Falls: Sightseeing and Exploring?” I said, taking a couple steps over. “Taran, are you… reading about Rose Falls? Are you actually becoming interested in this place?”

When I turned to him, I swore he had a full, honest-to-God blush on his face. It was probably the most endearing thing I’d ever seen—so much so that it almost distracted me from how criminally sexy he looked with his shirt off, body still glistening with the sheen of water.

“Guilty as charged,” he said, glancing down at the book. He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know, I figured… while I’m here, I should get to know this place better, you know?”

I smiled at him, closing the distance between us. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” I said.

His blush faded, the usual confident look returning to his face. “I don’t know what I am. All I know is that I want you fucking badly, Patrick.”

His hands were at the bottom of my shirt, then, pulling it up and over my body. He led me toward the bathroom, which honestly was big enough to be another entire room of the house—it had a giant Jacuzzi tub, at least two sinks, a huge mirror, and then the shower itself.

“Good God, Taran,” I said, pausing for a moment to look at the shower.

“I know,” he said.

“I mean, that’s as big as my entire house, I think.”

He gave me a sidelong look. “Oh, please.”

“Okay, fine, my house isn’t quite that big. But still… wow.”

“I wasn’t just flirting with you when I said I feel terrible showering alone in this thing,” Taran said, stripping bare and tossing his wet clothes onto the ledge of the tub nearby. “I really do need another person in here.”

I was silent for a moment, watching him. “Sorry,” I said, “I got distracted by your body.”

“Forget about mine. I want yours,” he said. He unceremoniously unbuttoned my jeans, pulling them off along with my underwear, and setting them near his own clothes.

For the first time that night I felt the faintest twinge of anxiety. The recessed lighting in his bathroom was nice, almost mood lighting, even—but I still had a moment of wondering what Taran would think of my body.

And unfortunately, I couldn’t help but compare my body to his. He had the perfect physique and clearly worked out a ton. He could tell people he was an underwear model, and no one would blink an eye.

But most of the exercise I got nowadays was just moving around the bar and hauling heavy boxes of shipments. I didn’t exactly get enough sun, didn’t exactly belong in a magazine like Taran did. Like most of his hookups probably did.

I was just… me. Normal. Someone that Taran mistook for a farmer when he first met me. And finally, I was bare in front of him, wishing and hoping that I wasn’t a disappointment.

He took a step toward me, his hands skating down my arms and then to my hips.

“You’re nervous,” he said, his voice low. “Still into this, Patrick?”

I nodded too quickly. “God, of course,” I said. “I… can’t remember the last time I’ve been so into something.”

“Good,” he said, and I saw visible relief on his face. “Because Jesus, Patrick, you are so fucking hot.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “I’m cold, actually,” I said with a grin.

“Right, yes, the shower,” Taran said, pulling me over to the wing of the bathroom that held the shower. He pressed a series of buttons set into the marble at the side of the door, and slowly the water turned on, spraying out of a faucet that looked like it was from outer space. Steam quickly filled the space, fogging up the glass walls, warming my body to the bone.

“This is amazing,” I said, standing in the water for a few minutes. Taran was next to me with a placid smile on his face, clearly enjoying it just as much.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” he said, his eyes drifting over my body. He reached over to a ledge that had a handful of specialty soaps and bottles printed with words in French. It was a far cry from my usual body wash—whatever the cheapest thing at the mini-mart was—but as he poured it out into his hands, it filled the space with the most incredible herbal, woodsy smell.

“I’m gonna need to try some of that after you—oh—” I said, feeling as he put his hands on my shoulders, crossing over behind me and lathering up my body. I had been so caught up in the sheer novelty of everything that I hadn’t realized he was going to do this—to wash me.

No one had ever done something like that for me.

I’d always wanted it, and it had seemed painfully romantic, but the closest I’d ever come was sloppy times in late college, fooling around in the dorm showers.

But this was something else altogether. Taran was taking his time with me, really massaging me instead of just washing me, and I started to forget about anything other than the sensation of his hands on me. He started at my shoulders, working the body wash into a thick lather, then worked down lower, rubbing each arm with it.

Idly I wondered if he had taken some massage therapy classes somewhere in his past because this felt far better than anything I could have imagined. His fingers were strong and sure, his thumbs pressing long strokes into all my muscles, warming them from the inside until I felt like I was going to melt underneath his hands.

He worked down to my hips, and then to my ass, kneading the muscles there, grasping me with firm palms.

And that’s when another feeling cut through the pure relaxation. Like a bolt of lightning I remembered that it was Taran doing this to me—that he wanted me, and out of anyone he could have brought home tonight, he chose me. And as his fingers explored my body, I felt myself growing harder and harder again until at last, he reached around to my front.

When his hands traveled up the front of my thighs, I looked down and saw a bead of precum forming at the tip of my cock before the water came to wash it away. Taran brought his hands upward, sliding over my balls and up toward the base of my cock until he closed a fist around me.

I leaned my body back into his, feeling that he was hard again already, too. A moan escaped me as I leaned into him, one of his hands sliding gently along my cock as the other pressed tight against my torso, holding my body firmly against his own.

“I want to make you come, Patrick,” he said, low and soft near my ear, and I felt my cock twitch in his hand.

“Please,” I whispered, barely audible.

He turned me around in his arms, positioning me directly in the spray of the shower. He ran his hands over my body, rinsing off all the body wash, cleaning me fully.

And then his strong hands were on me again, pushing me up against the marble wall. The cool stone on my back was a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water and his hands, the combination of sensations sending a thrill straight through me.

Taran brought his lips to my neck, kissing me long and slow, occasionally nibbling me lightly as his lips trailed down toward my chest. He paused when he reached each of my nipples, running his tongue along them before continuing further down and dropping to his knees in front of me.

It was a sight I had pictured before, in fantasies, but never really imagined I would see in front of me. Taran on his knees, between my legs, glancing up at me from under his thick lashes. He lavished attention on me almost like he was hungry, like he needed me, even though I knew that couldn’t possibly be true.

For a man who had sex all the time, he certainly acted as if I was the most important thing in the world to him. He kissed along my inner thighs, taking his time, trailing his fingertips along my balls, my hips, back around to my ass. My cock was straining in front of his face.

But the strangest thing was that even though I was relentlessly turned on by everything he was doing, I also felt taken care of.

It was something I never dreamed I could feel with someone like Taran, someone who so casually exuded sexual power. But there was an incredible tenderness to him, too. And it was driving me absolutely crazy.

When his mouth finally met the base of my cock, I let out a long, slow moan that echoed across the stone of his shower. I couldn’t help it. Not only had I wanted this from Taran all night, hell, all week—I also hadn’t been touched like this by anyone in so long that I’d nearly forgotten how good it was. The press of his tongue along the underside of my cock, licking all the way up to the tip.

And God, when he took me into his mouth, drawing the tip of my cock inside him, I worried for a moment that I might come right then and there. I shifted against the marble behind me, letting the cool feeling along my back ground me, center me, ensuring that I didn’t come in his mouth two seconds after he’d gotten me in his mouth, but I could tell that Taran knew exactly what he was doing to me.

He had me pinned to the wall, and now he used one hand to firmly grip my thigh, keeping me in place so that I couldn’t move as freely. He took more of my cock into his mouth, so warm and wet, so perfect in every way. He was slow at first. He didn’t suck hard so much as just run his tongue all around me, moving around the tip and then all the way down to the base.

Of course, he was teasing me. I’d done it to him earlier, and I knew I deserved it right back. But it was maddening. I wanted so badly to thrust forward, and he knew it, pressing his hand firm against me and pinning me to the wall. I reached out a hand, gripping around to the back of his head, lacing my fingers through his wet hair.

At that moment, it felt like he was mine. I knew it wasn’t real, and I knew that could never really be the case. He wasn’t going to be in this town for long, and even if he was, he could never fully want me like that. He could never fully want anyone like that.

But here, with me inside him, the steam of the shower cocooning us into a space that was only ours, it felt like it was real. I felt like we belonged to each other, and that the connection we felt was too strong to be broken.

I was his, and he was mine, for this moment.

He quickened his pace on my cock, his lips getting tighter around me. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he was so good at giving a blowjob, but some part of me still felt like I’d won the lottery.

I also noticed then that as he kneeled in front of me, one hand pressed against my hip, his other hand had gone down to wrap around his own cock. As he worked along mine with his mouth, he wrapped around his own with his fist.

“Jesus, that is so fucking hot,” I said, looking down.

“Hm?” he hummed around my cock.

“You… getting yourself off, again, while getting me off,” I said, my voice coming in short breaths. “I love it.”

He pulled off my cock momentarily, smiling up at me. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind. I’m just… really fucking turned on, again, and… I need it,” he said.

“God, of course I don’t mind,” I said. “It’s incredible that you’re… insatiable like that. And that this gets you off as much as it does for me… it’s perfect.” You’re perfect, I thought to myself, though I knew that was a ridiculous thing to say, that I was thinking in the heat of the moment.

But I couldn’t help myself from thinking it, at least. Taran was the real deal, a person with a sexual energy that lived up to all the flirtiness and confidence. It surpassed my expectations, surpassed any fantasy of how good I thought he would be.

And as he increased his speed and rhythm against me, all rational thought left my brain. I could see him stroking his own cock beneath me as he ran his tongue hard and fast along my own. I could feel him gaining intensity as he stroked himself even faster.

And a few minutes later, I felt the sensation of him humming around my own cock, and then moaning even deeper. I soon knew what was happening: he was about to make himself come, all while his mouth was wrapped around me. I watched. I couldn’t possibly look away. He kept up his rhythm, sucking me fast as he began to come for the second time that night, painting white against the bottom of my leg and the floor of the shower. I watched as the water of the shower washed it away quickly, and Taran momentarily slowed his pace with his mouth, moaning around me.

And it was a good thing that he had to slow down for a little bit because otherwise I would have come right then. There was nothing hotter that I could imagine: seeing him, letting go and giving into his orgasm, all because he was blowing me.

“You’re amazing,” I said to him, looking down. “You’re fucking amazing, Taran.”

When he caught his breath, looked up at me again, and resumed his quick pace on my cock, I knew I wasn’t going to last any longer. It was too much: his beauty, his strength, and his care for me. It all conspired together to short-circuit my brain, overwhelming me completely.

“Oh God, Taran, it’s too good,” I uttered, gripping his head tight. “I’m gonna come.”

He looked up at me, and in his eyes I saw the plea, or maybe the command: do it. Come for me.

And so I did. Looking down at Taran between my legs, with me between his lips, I let go. He released his firm hand from my thigh, allowing me to move forward, bucking my hips toward him, fucking into his mouth. I called out his name as I came, the whole world around me reduced to nothing but sensation, the wet slick of his mouth, him swallowing around me as I came over and over.

For a few moments the world faded away. There was nothing but the sound of the shower falling all around me, no feeling other than Taran’s mouth and the press of the wall behind me. After a while, I opened my eyes, running my hand through Taran’s slicked hair once more as he gently pulled off of me, wiping his forearm against his mouth in the spray of the water.

And then he stood slowly, coming up to my eye level again, and lowering his face to meet me in a slow kiss.

It had all been amazing: the shower, the massage, the orgasm. But this felt more like a breaking point inside me, something that produced a tectonic shift.

He still wanted to kiss me. He didn’t want to fuck and then run, didn’t want to turn the other way and get on with the rest of his business. Even after he’d come twice that night. It was more than I ever expected from someone like him, and I so clearly saw now that I had underestimated him, had judged him far too quickly when I’d met him.

He was kind. And having a casual hookup with him didn’t at all feel like I was being used.

Instead, I felt more cared for than I had in years.

* * *

After rinsing off fully, both of us so spent we were barely able to talk, we got out of the shower and dried off. Taran’s towels were thick and plush, of course, comforting like every other part of his apartment was.

When we were dried off, Taran disappeared into his equally large closet-room and emerged with comfortable clothes for the both of us.

“You can borrow these,” he said, handing me the sweatpants and t-shirt. “I’ll toss the rest of our clothes in the laundry tomorrow.”

I nodded, hanging up my towel and tugging on the comfortable clothes. I paused afterward, just watching him, unsure of what happened next. This was why I didn’t get casual sex: I didn’t know what happened afterward, what was appropriate, what anyone expected.

“So,” I said finally, “I guess I… should be getting back?” I didn’t mean to phrase it like a question, but it was how the words naturally came out.

“Oh, hush,” Taran said, waving a hand at me. “It’s late. We drank a lot tonight. You’re staying here.”

“Okay. I mean, the couch really is even more comfortable than my own bed—”

Taran let out a slightly sad laugh. “You don’t have to use the couch, Patrick. Unless you want to, that is. But… I wouldn’t mind the company in bed.”

I glanced over at him, and he shot me a small smile before heading back out into the bedroom.

I couldn’t help it: I got a warm, tingly feeling all over again, just from him offering to let me share his bed. I knew it didn’t mean anything, really, to him. But I still felt like it meant something to me.

I padded out into the bedroom, shutting off the bathroom lights behind me. Taran’s room didn’t have any lights on, but the glow of the city still seeped in through his large glass windows. It was at once both cozy and somehow grandiose. I had always thought that modern apartments would feel clinical and the opposite of homey, but Taran’s just felt right. I felt safe, here, being able to see my entire hometown from above, the familiar streets and landmarks all the more beautiful from the aerial vantage point.

It was something so familiar, and yet so new. Which was the same way I’d felt about Taran himself, many times.

He was already in bed, tucked under the covers when I slipped in beside him. The bed was huge, big enough that we easily could have slept alongside each other and never even touched.

But when I got inside, I felt him scoot over slightly, felt the cool touch of his fingertips brushing against my upper arm. For some reason, it made my heart feel like it was going to leap out of my chest.

“Good night, Patrick,” Taran said, his voice sleepy and faint.

“Good night,” I whispered back.

I thought for sure I would be up for at least another hour—the foreign house, the incredible night, all the unexpected emotions I didn’t quite know how to process.

But Taran’s bed was perfect, too. It felt like lying on a plush cloud, and before even a minute had passed, I fell into a still, dreamless sleep.