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Matt shivered as he opened the door to a local tattoo parlor—his favorite one, the one where he got all his work done, the one where his best friend worked—and winced when he felt the chill of the air conditioner, goosebumps traveling up his sodden spine. He shivered, teeth clacking together as they chattered. It was pouring outside, and most noise of the urban nightlife was being drowned out by thunderclaps. Even walking half a block from Matt’s own workplace—a humble flower shop—to the tattoo parlor left him soaked to the bone. His tee shirt, soft and dark red, was sticking uncomfortably to his skin; the same held true for his white jeans. His shoes had probably been given the worst treatment from the elements: his sneakers were saturated and his socks were soggy. “Adrian?” Matt called out for his best friend. He closed the door behind him, stopping the spray of rainwater from pounding against his back and invading the parlor’s entrance, and stood on the parlor’s welcome mat. Rivulets of water were dripping off his body, but he was careful to not get any of it on the polished tile floor. “I closed up shop, so I’ll just wait here in the front ‘til you’re ready, okay?”
“Matt?” A voice rang out from the back of the parlor, and it certainly didn’t carry the matter-of-fact timbre of Adrian’s voice. “Is that you?” It was the voice of someone Matt had known since a very young age. Someone Matt could consider to be both an old friend and an old rival—they had met in middle school when they’d both auditioned for the school play. Matt had gotten the starring roles year after year, of course.
“Juan?” Matt answered back. It was quite the eloquent conversation they were having, Matt thought, doing nothing of value, nothing but saying each other’s names with an upward inflection. “Where’s Adrian?”
“She got a phone call a few hours ago talkin’ about some emergency.” Juan still hadn’t left from the main working area of the shop. “She left right after she got it. Did you need her for something?”
“My baby’s been getting fixed up at the shop,” Matt explained, the raindrops on his cheeks changing their path as his mouth split into a smile from thinking about his bike. “And I was counting on her to take me home from work today…” Matt complained, the cold air against his wet skin still sending chills across his synapses. Throughout Matt’s life, it had been a running joke that he was cold-blooded. Just another reference to his serpentine personality and a decently funny way of justifying why his body temperature was always so low. Now, more than ever, Matt wished that his body wasn’t naturally so cold. “Dammit…”
“Public transit? An Uber?” Juan suggested, finally walking to the front of the shop to see Matt. “Wait, hold on, what’s got you in here lookin’ like a drowned cat?”
Matt ignored what he took to be a small insult. “Have you looked outside at all?” Juan’s eyes shifted from Matt’s body to the shop’s windows. His eyes went wide when he saw the torrential downpour terrorizing the streets. “The weather’s the shittiest it’s been in a while. They closed down all the buses and I doubt any sorry sucker’s gonna be offering rides in these conditions.”
“The great Matt Engarde at a disadvantage…” Juan chuckled. “Well, I’ll be damned, I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Ah, shut up, dude,” Matt’s tone was more playful than venomous. “Didn’t we give up the petty rivalry in middle school when you switched over to tech?”
“I’m just messin’ with you…” Juan was raising his hands in mock surrender, a mischievous glint reflecting in his dark eyes. “Anyway, how’s the shop going?”
“Pretty good as usual; thanks for asking.” Matt flashed Juan a genuine smile. He didn’t give those out often, but Juan was a common recipient of the limited edition gift nonetheless. “I actually reconnected with an old theater friend today. She came in wanting a bouquet of roses to use in her proposal to her girlfriend of six years.” The moment was sweet…enough. Matt didn’t have the fondest of opinions on love, not after a few bad years with a girlfriend, if he could even call her that. “And what about you, y’know, how’s work over here?”
“Just…normal. No fun customers recently, seein’ as you haven’t been in recently.” Juan shrugged his shoulders, a nonchalant ‘What can you do?’ “When’s your next appointment, Matt? I don’t think I’ve gotten to work on you in months.”
“Next week. Thursday the twenty-eighth. Noon sharp.” Matt answered instantly, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, bouncing on his heels in what would have come across as excessive enthusiasm to anyone but Juan. “I’ve been itching for new ink for way too long, man, this appointment’s like the one thing I’ve got on my mind.”
“I don’t think you’ve told me what you’re getting yet.” Juan mused, tapping his boot-clad foot against the ground. “I’ve still gotta finish cleaning up, but if you wanna talk about design ideas after I’ve got the place sorted, I’m up for it.”
“Hell yeah!” Matt jumped at the chance to tell Juan about his thoughts for the new piece, although he didn’t think there was really a good way to tell one’s tattoo artist that he wanted to get a piece inspired by the artist himself. It would be fine, Matt could explain the meaning away as something else with ease; he was a master liar, it came with the acting skills.
“Great,” Juan stepped behind the front counter and fished around in one of the drawers until he found a small white towel. He threw the cloth at Matt, who caught it with a confused expression, the one eyebrow not covered by his thick bangs furrowed. “You haven’t stopped shaking like a leaf since you stepped in here.” Juan explained.
“Ah, look at ya, just tremblin’ like a poor little leaf in these country-ass winds…” Matt mocked him, slapping a half-effort Southern accent on his words. He snickered to himself after the impression had ended, and the laughter only intensified when he saw Juan’s exasperated expression. The other man had shook his head, covered with a hand, and peered over his fingers at Matt looking oh, so tired of his shit.
“I’m not even Southern… I’m not Southern.” Juan lamented.
“Exactly!” Matt was grinning like a madman. “So it’s real funny that you sound like it, isn’t it?”
“Oh hush, you…” Juan rolled his eyes without any malice. “Just dry off the best you can and chill out here for a little. I’ll come back with my sketchbook when I’m done.” Juan spun around and walked back to complete his closing shift responsibilities after the two young men exchanged a thumbs-up.
Matt texted Adrian a quick ‘hope everything’s okay’ message, and tried drying himself off to the best of his ability, but he wasn’t very successful, seeing as the towel was just one square foot in area. He was able to change his long hair from soaked to damp, and wipe away the raindrops that were threatening to drip off his face, but that was about it. He was still immensely uncomfortable, acutely aware of how soaked his socks were. Still, it was the thought that had counted. And Juan was thoughtful. He had always been that way; Matt had known that about him for years. Still, it was only in recent times once they reconnected after high school that the same thoughtfulness had been targeted toward Matt in a direct sense, anything more than just general kindness between acquaintances. Finding out Juan and Adrian worked at the same place was intriguing to Matt, and admittedly, it was better for his body modification experience. Adrian was a piercer at the shop, whereas Juan worked as a tattoo artist. Matt was a fan of both kinds of body mods, and having two people he had a rapport with being so close to his workplace bode well for making easy appointments. The curved ruby barbell in his stomach that had been a result of an impromptu visit to the parlor during a half hour break some time ago was the most recent piercing he’d gotten. Typically, the navel piercing stayed hidden under his shirt, but with the rain weighing the material down, it was easy to see the outline of the jewelry poking just above the waistband of his jeans.
“The towel didn’t do much, I suppose.” Those words signified Juan’s return to the front of the shop. He was holding a large black book and a plastic cup, branded with the logo of the parlor, with what looked like various art supplies inside. Matt could spy run-down erasers atop pencils, ballpoint pen caps in a rainbow of colors. “You’re less drippy, though, so that seems good?”
“Yeah…” Matt agreed, accompanied by some gentle laughter. It seemed uncharacteristic for him to be so soft around the edges, but Juan always managed to bring this side out of him. “Less, uh…drippy.”
“Now c’mon, where are you gettin’ the new piece?” Juan’s lazy smile turned into a giddy grin. Any time the passion for his career was brought into a conversation, Juan’s entire face would light up. Matt had known this expression of his for a while, damn near studied it during school rehearsals. “I wanna know everything about my favorite customer’s new piece.”
If there was any heat in Matt’s body, it would have rushed to his face upon hearing ‘favorite’ come out of Juan’s mouth. Sure, they were friends, and Matt was as much of a regular here as his paycheck allowed him to be, but ‘favorite’ felt just a bit too special for someone like himself. “Like… My hip, like, directly over the bone. On the left side. I know it’ll hurt like a motherfucker but it’s not gonna be too big. I’d show you exactly where I’m thinking but, uh…” Matt glanced down at his soaked pants, gesturing vaguely at the lower half of his body.
“What ‘uh…’ are you talking about?” Juan asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern. “I’m gonna have to see the skin anyway when I ink it, y’know? And I’ve done your chest before, so I don’t think you’d get a little weird about showin’ skin.”
“Nah, man, you’re right about that.” Matt quickly answered. Maybe Juan was too right about his lack of modesty. “It’s just, like… With my jeans all soaked I can’t pull the one side down easily.”
“So just take ‘em off,” Juan suggested the idea like it was nothing, and the nonchalance left Matt nearly choking on his breath.
“I— Wait—” Matt wasn’t the type of person to get flustered easily, least of all in a situation like this, but he held firm to the belief that anyone would have gotten tripped up if the person they’d had a raging crush on—for years, mind you—asked them oh, so coolly, to just take off their pants.
“Matthew.” Juan snapped his fingers a few times, trying to manually reset Matt’s brain and bring him back to the present. The use of the full name usually had that effect, seeing as it wasn’t Matt’s full name. He hadn’t made Matt be short for anything when he changed it. “I’m a tattoo artist, not a creep, yeah?” He kept his tone light, but there was still an edge of sincerity and comfort to his words. “Everything okay in that head of yours?”
“Yeah, dude, I’m all good.” Matt stammered, quite dumbly if he had to add. “Started zoning out. Thought about her for a sec.” It was a lie, but Juan would never dare to call him out for it even if he suspected it. Manipulative, undoubtedly, but it’d stop Juan from asking any more questions and significantly reduce the risk of Matt embarrassing himself. Selfish, and maybe a bit unethical, but that was just the kind of guy he was.
“Ah, I see.” There was a heavy silence that started to fill the parlor, the weight of it almost making Matt regret his decision to invoke her memory. Almost. Juan rested his chin between his thumb and index finger, then, seemingly considering something. “How far away do you live?”
“A thirty minute drive east…” Matt admitted. The commute wasn’t terrible, but to walk it, and in the rain nonetheless… That wouldn’t be fun. That would be less than fun. That would suck major ass, actually.
“No.” Juan said, lips pursing in a frown.
“Huh? The hell do you mean no, Juan? I’m pretty sure I know where I live.” Matt fixed Juan with yet another puzzled glance.
“You’re thinkin’ so loud I can practically hear you.” Juan’s dark eyes were narrowed. “You’re thinking about how terrible it’d be to walk home in this weather. Knowin’ you, you’re thinking it’d ‘suck ass’.” Matt blanched at Juan’s ability to get his phrasing almost verbatim. “But you’re not doing that. Just come home with me for the night.”
“Nope—” Matt declined the offer almost immediately. “I can’t just crash at your place, dude, ‘specially on such short notice.”
Juan stepped closer to Matt after placing his supplies on the counter with the cash register, and carded a warm hand through the man’s damp hair. He paid careful attention to only reach for the left side of his head, avoiding his bangs in their entirety. Juan was aware of the scars across Matt’s right eye, though he’d only seen the remnants of the injury twice before. He always ensured that he’d never try to move Matt’s hair out of the way, and this time was no different. Juan was a man with nothing but respect for Matt’s boundaries, his privacy. “Matt,” The man in question didn’t answer. “We’re friends. We’ve been friends since middle school. And I’d be a real bad one if I let you fend for yourself in these conditions. I’m a five minute walk south of here. And I’ve got a giant umbrella. So just come home with me, okay?”
“Juan, dude, I can’t j—”
“That’s not how you say ‘thank you’.” Juan interrupted. Matt tried to search his dark eyes for anything that indicated his offer was a joke, but he couldn’t find anything except the typical, joyful sparkle. Constellations in all their sincerity.
“Thank…” Matt sighed and restarted. The words tasted foreign on his tongue. “Thanks, Juan.” Matt’s eyes were practically boring holes into the floor.
Juan grinned as he wedged his fingers through the belt loops on Matt’s wet jeans and pulled the man closer to him, leaving mere inches between their bodies. “See? Ain’t that difficult, was it?” Matt couldn’t form words. He legitimately could not kick his brain into gear and come up with something to say. For all his charisma, for all his charm, the suave persona he projected never seemed to work on Juan. Maybe it was something with the other man’s magnetism, the way it fucked over Matt’s defenses and left him as nothing but the most authentic version of himself. Being in such close proximity to Juan was making his head short-circuit, his psyche overload with information. Like how he could see the moles on Juan’s face—one below his eye and one on his bottom lip—in high definition. “Now c’mon, we should get goin’.” Matt was still stunned into silence. He just stood there, nodding as he watched Juan finish closing up the shop. He worked quickly and quietly; efficient as always, Matt noticed.
“I’ll hold the umbrella,” Matt announced, finally breaking his silence as he opened the shop’s door for Juan. “Y’know, since I’m taller.” There it was, something for his confidence to cling to.
“Not by more than two and a half centimeters, you idiot.” Juan grinned at the pavement as he shook his head at Matt. The florist had almost forgotten how intense the rain was. The wind practically blew the large raindrops sideways, and Matt’s hair was already back to whipping around in his face. He was all too aware of the fact that the strong gusts could be blowing his bangs back out of his face, and it made a pit of anxiety start to form in his stomach. He turned his head away from Juan, ensuring he’d only be able to see the left side, if anything.
“Mhm, two and a half centimeters that I have and you don’t.” Matt teased, though his voice shook. He watched as Juan locked the shop’s door, shoved the keys in his pocket, and opened the umbrella, handing it to Matt. After he positioned it above their heads, the barely-shorter man stretched his hand toward Matt.
“Here, gimme your hand.”
The side-eye Matt gave him was damn near comical. “Why?”
“I don’t trust you to not run away from me.” Even under the black sky, Juan’s emotive eyes were glinting with mirth. Matt huffed—trying as hard as possible to look annoyed—and laced his fingers through Juan’s. “Jeez, your skin is freezing.” Juan observed with a soft laugh. “How can you possibly live like this?”
“Doesn’t bother me,” Matt reasoned as he and Juan started walking, obviously led by the dark-haired man whose tawny highlights seemed to disappear in the dark. “And Adrian’s really the only one I have physical contact with, so it can’t bother anyone besides her.” He pauses, laughing to himself. “And I don’t have any issues with bothering her.”
“No physical contact?” His lament was so melodramatic, Matt wanted to cite it as a reason why Juan had made the switch from cast to crew. “I think I’d die.” For the rest of the walk to his apartment—it was short, just like Juan had promised—Matt had to explain all the reasons as to how he could ‘possibly live’, in Juan’s words, going days at a time without displays of affection like hugs, cuddles, even so much as a high five.
Upon entering the apartment, Juan had directed him to just go straight to the shower, assuring Matt that he’d take care of everything from the umbrella to the soaked clothes. Feeling this caliber of care had made Matt teeter on the edge of uncomfortable. Like the feeling where he just started to overheat under particularly harsh stage lights, and he could feel pools of sweat start to form on his skin. It’s not that Juan’s hospitality was bad… Quite the opposite, actually. Matt just didn’t have experience in this department, hell, his only relationship that lasted longer than a night had been with the demon girlfriend from the depths of hell. And factoring in Matt’s crush, the situation was tipping from a friendly favor to something straight out of his daydreams. Matt should have expected that the situation would only get worse for him when he stepped into Juan’s bathroom. It was filled with the man’s distinct scent, a mix of hickory wood, cinnamon, and tattoo ink. It nearly made Matt dizzy, but between potential lightheadedness and staying in soaked clothing for another second, he preferred the former. He had to fidget around with the shower faucet for a few minutes before he got the hang of how it worked—there was no way he could just go out and ask Juan, that’d be embarrassing—and when he found a comfortable temperature, he undressed and stepped into the nearly scalding stream of water.
Matt could feel all the tension in his body start to melt away along with the ache in his bones from the downpour. He had no idea how much time he spent in the shower, all he knew was that he couldn’t identify the last time he’d felt so at ease. When he reread the bottle of shampoo he’d used, his eyes scanned over the word ‘aromatherapy’. God, that was such a Juan thing for him to have. And maybe that was it, maybe that was the reason for the aura of calm that had blanketed him? Probably… He didn’t want to get out of the shower; being warm after so long was a feeling he despaired to rid himself of. He gave himself a countdown from ten, and shut off the water after his third repetition of the countdown. The towels Juan had told him to use were white and fluffy, soft against his skin. Matt scrubbed at his hair until it could hardly be called damp, more cold than wet, and pushed it back off his forehead, revealing his marred face. Matt stared at himself in the mirror, deciding to claim that the increase in his heartbeat was from the intense heat of the shower, and not the anxieties about Juan seeing him like this. Of course, if he had an issue with it, he’d just cover it up. But Juan had seen the scars a handful of times already, and Matt wasn’t worried about scaring him with the view. And if nothing more, the scars that spanned the length of his chest were more eye-catching than the lines on his face. Matt rubbed down his body until he was completely dry, wrapped the towel tight around his waist, and even held it against himself with one hand, not trusting gravity or physics to be on his side.
“Uh, Juan…?” Matt called out as he left the bathroom, flicking off the light and shutting the door behind him. “I, um, I need clothes, man…”
“I’m in the den, it’s to your right.” Juan answered back. “I’ve got stuff for you, though it might be a little big. I don’t have designated pajamas, just comfy clothes I like to be oversized.”
Following the sound of Juan’s voice, Matt ended up right in front of him. He was wearing nothing but a pair of sky blue sweatpants, and his hair was in damp waves over his face as if it had just been washed. “You’re not wearing a shirt.” Matt said. An astute observation.
“You are correct,” Matt answered with a cheeky grin. “But then again, neither are you.”
“Yeah, yeah, but I have a reason!” Matt protested. “I just got out of the shower.” He motioned back in the general direction of the bathroom.
“As did I.” Juan’s response left Matt looking at him quizzically. “I’m good friends with this guy Will, my next-door neighbor. I explained the situation to him and he was fine with me takin’ a quick shower at his place. Wanted to be ready by the time you got out, y’know?”
“Ah…” Matt mumbled. “I see. That’s, um, nice?”
“You really don’t know how stuff like this works…” Juan meant for his sentence to come out as a question, but his tone left it as nothing more than a quick observation. He stood up and handed over the clothes he’d picked out for Matt—a pair of boxers and a sweatshirt. “Bedroom’s just down the hall from the bathroom, the door’s already open and I turned the lights on. Just get dressed and call me in when you’re done. I’ll get stuff set up for us to sleep.”
“Right.” Matt acknowledged him as he took the clothing from Juan. “Thanks again for all this. You really didn’t have to offer your place for the night.”
“Oh, hush.” Juan said as he waved Matt off. “It’s not unlike me to be nice.”
Juan’s bedroom was nice, cozy. A twin sized bed, a desk with a laptop resting on it, what looked like two closets, two wooden dressers of different sizes. A mirror that spanned the height of the wall with band posters and framed photos of tattoos covering nearly every surface. A glossy red guitar, propped up on a stand in the corner. He pulled on the clothes and took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. The boxers fit him surprisingly well, but the sweatshirt was huge on him. The navy fabric covered his hands and most of his thighs. “Juan?” Matt asked, standing in the doorway, towel bunched up in his hands. “Where should I put the towel?” At the sound of his voice, Juan made his way to the bedroom.
“I got it. Here, go and get yourself comfortable, and I’ll be right back.” Juan took the towel from Matt’s hands with a gentle smile.
“Wait, man, where are you gonna sleep? I don’t wanna steal your bed, being here uninvited is ba—”
“With you, of course.” Juan’s smirk was hidden when he turned away and brought the towel to the bathroom. Upon his return, he saw Matt sitting cross-legged on his bed, his already fair skin taking on an even whiter hue. “Matt, are you alright?” He asked hesitantly, closing his bedroom door behind him as he entered the room.
“I think I should probably just take the couch.” Matt’s voice was a little loud, as if he’d been wanting to say that but kept it bottled inside, and now that he was asked, it exploded out of him with no control. He had skills in projection after years on stage, and apparently felt it necessary to prove that skill here. “I’m already in your hair enough, man, and this way when I leave tomorrow morning I can do it without waking you up. I also move around a lot in my sleep, so I’d just take up space and, dude, y’know, you’ve already done enough for me without you giving up like half your bed just for my own benefit, and—”
“I like you, Matt.” Juan interrupted.
Matt couldn’t speak for a few heartbeats, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “Huh?”
“I…I like you. And I’ve been wantin’ to ask you out for months but no time ever seemed right. I figured taking care of you tonight would give me that opportunity I’ve been looking for.” Juan explained.
“Blue daisies.” Matt responded.
“Blue dai— Matt, what the—” Juan looked bewildered, and the randomness of Matt’s statement sent him into a fit of laughter. Thankfully, Matt took no offense to it and instead joined in with soft giggles.
“Yes, now stop laughing at me, you bastard,” Matt stuck his tongue out at Juan. “I thought you wanted to hear about my next tattoo idea?”
“Oh!” Juan shouted, nodding in an understanding he was still trying to develop. “Alright, I get that then, but uh… Why bring it up right after I confess my feelings to you…?”
“Daisies. Blue ones, Felicia amelloides, they’re pretty rare, and they represent loyalty. Trust. Blue reminds me of you, and the signature flower of April—your birthday month, y’know—is the daisy. I wanted to get a bouquet of them for you, Juan. I’ve, uh…” Matt swallowed the rest of the infodump down before he could unload more information on Juan. He let his gaze stay averted for a few more seconds before making eye contact with Juan. “I like you, too.”
Juan didn’t know what made him blush—either the hopeless romantic in him who had fallen head over heels or the tattoo artist in him who had a love for pieces with significance—but something had led the blood to rush to his face and color his tan cheeks pink. “That…” He stammered. “That’s… Show me where you want it.” He asked as he walked farther into his room and sat down across from Matt on the bed. His dark eyes didn’t move from Matt’s amber ones until the latter’s hands moved to push at the fabric of his clothing. One hand pulled the sweatshirt up to reveal part of his lower stomach, piercing glinting in the overhead light, and the other hand pushed down the waistband of the boxers until his left hip bone was visible.
“Here.” Matt’s voice was a whisper. His breath hitched in his throat when Juan’s warm fingers traced over the exposed skin. For all the work he did with his hands, be it doing tattoos or playing guitar, Juan’s fingers were still soft, like velvet against Matt’s body.
“It’s going to look beautiful… What’s the flower for July?” Juan asked, his hand not leaving Matt’s skin.
“Larkspur.” Matt answered quickly, fingers fluttering at his side in an attempt to keep his reaction to getting to talk about his special interest under control. “Also known as delphinium. It’s an annual flower, its most common colors being in the blue and purple families.”
“Does it come in red?”
“It does. Red larkspur, Delphinium nudicaule, lots of love significance. Strong bonds and open hearts, all that corny shit.”
“I’m moving your appointment to the next day you have off. I’ll get a matchin’ bouquet, red larkspur.”
“Juan…” Matt’s voice quivered. If what he remembered about Juan’s body modification count was correct…
“Hm?”
“Don’t you only have one other tattoo?”
“Yeah,” With Juan’s answer, Matt’s suspicions were confirmed. “But I’ve been wanting more ink for a while. This is the perfect opportunity to get some.”
Matt exhaled a shaky laugh, staring up at the ceiling as if an answer to his bewilderment at the current situation would be written in the ceiling lights. “This doesn’t feel real. Maybe I am sick from the storm earlier. Maybe I’m hallucinating.”
“Right, right…” Juan played along, albeit sarcastically. “This is all just one gigantic dream, of course.”
“Don’t be mean to me now, I’ve had a very long day out in the rain.” Matt complained through a pout, folding his arms across his chest, though the length of the sweatshirt’s arms made maneuvering a bit difficult. Juan just sighed and leaned over Matt to pull back the covers on his bed.
“Get under.” He nudged Matt. “I gotta make sure you’re all nice and warm, tucked in and all that.”
“You’re so cheesy…” Matt groaned but listened to Juan’s request and got himself situated under the sheets, laying down on his left side. “Are you coming or are you just gonna watch me sleep like a psycho?”
“I don’t know how you like to sleep!” Juan defended himself. Matt thought it was adorable. “First, you said you move around a lot, and second, I do wanna cuddle you but you said earlier that you don’t do physical contact all that often. I didn’t wanna cross any lines, especially not if I didn’t know they existed. I just want you to be comfortable, Matt.”
“Ah…” A flush made its way to Matt’s cheeks. He wasn’t used to treatment like this, it was odd having someone be so attentive to what he wanted, what he needed to feel safe. It made him feel…treasured. Matt wasn’t used to feeling so valuable. “I, um… Can I be the big spoon? I like holding things when I fall asleep and being held typically makes me feel suffocated so uh, that would probably work best for me.”
“Sounds good, darling.” Juan grinned at him before getting himself settled under the covers, moving around until his bare back was pressed up against Matt’s clothed chest.
“You’re warm,” Matt noted. Juan could already hear the sleep creeping up in his voice. “I like it.” Matt hooked his right leg over Juan’s body to pull him closer, did the same with his right arm, and burrowed his head into Juan’s tanned back. Inspired by the bout of confidence the mutual confessions had given him, Matt pressed a gentle kiss between Juan’s shoulderblades. “Thank you for tonight, Juan.” The gratitude no longer felt strange as it passed his lips.
“You’re welcome, Matt.” Juan whispered. “Now get used to spending the night with me, okay?” Matt didn’t answer; he’d already fallen asleep. Dry, warm, and much happier than he’d been in a while.