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“You never learn, do you?”
Dorian groaned, woken up by the clunk of a glass of water on the table. He rubbed his temple with his hand as if it’d soothe his dreadful headache. He rolled onto his side and was met with Cullen looking down at him. Even with everything fuzzy and blurry, Dorian could tell he had his ‘I’m not surprised, just disappointed’ expression on.
“Shhhhut it—” Dorian’s head throbbed again with another jolt of pain. He grabbed the glass and drank it, easing his dry throat. “Khaffas, please tell me it’s still morning.”
“If you still count eleven-thirty as in the morning, then yes.”
“Good enough…”
Cullen sighed as he shook his head. “At least you didn’t bring back another stranger.”
“What, and miss the adorable faces you make?” said Dorian with a smirk. He wished he had pictures of Cullen as he discovered him and his partner(s) in varying states of undress.
Like the one right now.
Red coloured Cullen’s cheeks before he could turn his head and hide his face from the other man.
“I jest. I just… thought you wouldn’t be back home so soon.” The smirk was gone, replaced with a wry smile. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I know,” muttered Cullen, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyways, breakfast on the table—no extra spices, before you ask. I’ve heated it for you.”
“Oh.”
Clarity was finally settling in. He had spent the night at the bar, hopelessly flirting with a white-haired elf he never even got the name of, almost but not as charming as Dorian himself. Then they were in the bathroom. A sloppy head. His attempt to invite the elf here: Refused. He drank some more. His neck still stung from the bites.
Dorian looked at the ticking clock, then down at his body.
It was practically noon. He was still only in his pants, half-covered with a blanket he didn't remember using (most likely Cullen’s doing) with food already waiting for him.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Well, I’m still here,” said Cullen with a warm smile—the same one that welcomed Dorian when he arrived at his place here, wet from the rain with more suitcases than he initially thought he could carry. “Now get up. Having a hangover doesn’t mean you get to hog the couch all day.”
“Such barbaric treatment,” huffed Dorian. He shuffled to one side of the couch, pulling the blanket along. “Next you’ll drink beer for breakfast instead of tea.”
“As if wine is better.”
“It is.”
As Cullen said, no extra spices. Just as he liked it. He should return the favour and make something from back home. Dorian ate his breakfast next to Cullen on the couch, keeping himself from spouting off about how predictable the drama was in the TV show (apparently his guesses were now spoilers with how accurate they were).
It’d been a few months since he’d crashed at Cullen’s humble abode like a lost little boy, in fear of those who were supposed to care for him. They decided to share a living space to save on money before finding a better place (and the pleasant company was a greatly appreciated bonus). Dorian wasn't entirely sure if Cullen realized how much it meant for him—had he rejected Dorian, he wouldn't know who else to turn to.
They’ve settled somewhat into a routine. Dorian took care of the apartment during the weekday while Cullen was out for work, and Cullen would be home by the time Dorian started his shift at the library—his past research on time magic under Alexius’ teaching coming in handy for landing the job. On the weekend, they mostly spent the day together doing nothing in particular.
Except for today. Cullen headed out to meet Karlach at some cliff for another climbing session, that is before insisting Dorian to come. Barbaric. Dorian remembered the peeled skin of his palm when he first tried it, never again. It was worth it for the sight of shirtless climbers (and Cullen), at least.
So instead, Dorian made himself strong black tea, grabbed his phone, and settled himself at the kitchen table. He’d narrowed down the apartments around the area into a select view, big enough for the two of them while keeping their wallet filled enough to keep themselves fed. The only thing left was to survey the places.
Sipping his tea with a content hum, he browsed through the listed apartments one more time, formulatting the most (cost) effective route to take for their visits. He stole a glance at the clock and the inside of his cup; he had around ten minutes before he finished his drink.
So he opened MatchUp.
He scrolled through the pictures of men, some of which he’d gotten to know a little more personally in his time here. The previous elf was here too. Apparently, Astarion was his name. One other profile caught his interest.
“Oh?”
Gale Dekarios.
“Full name, huh.”
He never saw the man before. Perhaps it was a new profile. First of all, overly formal; he would’ve mistaken it for something on a job site if not for the ads of half-naked men everywhere. Hobbies, interests, and what he was looking for—all sectioned off with bullet points for each.
Wizard, scholar, and seeker of the sublime in both arcane knowledge and intellect. I believe a well-versed conversation is the finest prelude to any partnership. Message me if you appreciate the finer things in life (and please send a picture of your face if your profile doesn’t have any. Not to judge, I only prefer to know the individual I’m talking with). Below are my interests and hobbies to serve as a nice icebreaker:
It was a well-written bio if not for the fact they were on a hook-up app.
Looking for a long-term relationship.
Ah, there it was. Perhaps he was desperate, unlucky even on the more mainstream apps. Dorian wished the man luck. Though now curiosity ate at his mind. How bad would he be to search for a long-term relationship here?
He scrolled back up to the pictures. The first was of him in formal attire: A shirt, vest, ties, and all. Well groomed. The glasses weren't bad either. Surely this man wouldn’t have problems finding a match… unless he proved more wordy than what his description implied with an addition of a foul personality.
Dorian swiped to the next one. It was him still in the same clothes, now sitting down with an open book in hand about pocket dimensions of all things. He was either showing off or being completely genuine. Or both.
The third and fourth weren't too dissimilar. All of his expressions were focused, an easy smile on his face. With how formal everything was, Dorian itched to see the man broken and flustered, maybe even being the cause of it (he was more than sure he wasn’t the only one).
Dorian’s breath hitched as he hit the fifth and last image.
Gale was in his undergarments, back turned towards the mirror, his rear perched on the sink countertop. Only the bottom of his face was visible, tight-lipped as red coloured his neck and up. It was as if he forced himself to take the shot—not that Dorian was complaining.
“You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.”
Dorian opened up the direct message. He seemed to be the type to take it slow if his bio was anything to go by—though that last image might suggest something else. Dorian sent a picture of himself before he typed a message, replying to Gale’s second picture.
The most handsome mage there is.jpg
D: Well, well. A man of intellect I see. Few have the patience to understand the intricacy of creating pockets of space. Most give up before their first attempt
He sipped his drink, wondering if Gale would even reply. Dorian’s profile was… risque, to say the least. None of it showed his face (a precaution). The first was similar to Gale's, him in a long-sleeved shirt and form-fitting pants, but more to engage the viewer's imagination. Each swipe revealed more and more of his skin, tethering the limit of what the app allowed.
Gale’s profile was now online. His reply came soon after.
Gale Dekarios: Greetings, D. You’re right. It’s unfortunate to see so many aspiring wizards give up so soon when their ability is even the slightest bit challenged. There’s so much more to magic than to use it only as a tool. I, thankfully, am not one of those poor souls—and I have a feeling you are not either.
Ah, either he was unthreatened by his bold profile or didn't check at all, too eager to get into the discussion.
Gale Dekarios: And I appreciate your sending the picture, you look positively delightful! It’s a nice change of pace for once, not being met with defiance for expecting decent courtesy.
D: My, I’m flattered. Most don’t appreciate the elegance of magic’s finer working. Tell me, Gale, what drew you to that book? I happen to have read it myself. Perhaps I’ve met my match for this subject
Gale Dekarios: It’s my fifth book on the topic. None wrote about the environmental factors except for this one. So much more affects magic than just the verbal chants and somatics.
Gale Dekarios: Also, I think you’re underestimating me, D—I believe I can be much more than just a mere match of your intellect.
Dorian hummed. Gale was right; it took him several books and tomes before finding one that discussed the surrounding Weave’s stability when you cast the specific spells. Many he had discussed with seemed to forget the fact—now he was more than intrigued.
But Gale's second message was something he couldn’t ignore.
D: Is that a challenge, dear Gale? Because if it is, I assure you, I will claim victory and leave this little exchange with you flustered
Gale Dekarios: Oh? I look forward to it.
Gale Dekarios: Admittedly, you’re the first to strike up a conversation about arcane theory here. I apologize if my excitement gets the better of me.
D: Oh, don’t hold yourself back. As much as I enjoy making lesser wizards blush, I appreciate a discussion on the finer details of magic with a capable wizard just as much
D: But if you prefer the former, I can always accommodate
There was a pause before Gale started typing. Dorian smirked, imagining the other man blushing like the last picture as he tried to think of an answer.
Gale Dekarios: Why not both? A talented wizard can multitask, don’t you agree?
“Oh?”
It seemed the man had some bite after all. Dorian was about to type his witty reply before Gale sent another message.
Gale Dekarios: Speaking of multitasking, the book mentioned enchanting an item with pocket dimension as a separate step. I’ve found it possible to do simultaneously—the key is keeping yourself stable while becoming the conduit between the Weave and the item itself.
“Wait, truly?”
D: Fascinating. But how do you deal with the residual arcane turbulence? If you’re not careful, you could very easily break the poor item. Or in the worst case, yourself.
Gale Dekarios: Indeed. The technique itself isn’t complicated, but many tend to forget its application when they’ve advanced far beyond the basics. They think they can demand compliance from the Weave itself and not harmonize their intent with it. It’s the result of negligence—and pride.
Dorian was itching to grab the book ‘Disciplining Yourself to the Will of the Weave’ from his shelf for reference. There was a theory he wanted to discuss, yet he couldn’t name it from the top of his head.
Gale Dekarios: Ah, that is not to say you are overly prideful or lacking skill.
“Adorable.” He remembered. They were on a hookup app discussing the theories of Pocket Dimension, and Dorian had all but forgotten his initial intent on messaging Gale. Yet, he found himself with no complaint.
D: No need for apologies. This was the most intriguing, Gale, I’m impressed. Meeting another who appreciates the beauty of magic is wonderful. Though I admit, my appreciation for beauty…
Dorian replied to Gale’s last picture, taking a small pause to appreciate the exposed back and the way his body curved despite the slight blurriness.
D: Extends beyond magic
A pause. Dorian took another sip of his tea. Was he too forward? He loved the discussion, but he was on the app looking to find temporary relief. Perhaps he let his urges win him over—it wouldn’t be the first time. Dorian was about to type an apology before it showed Gale typing a reply.
Gale Dekarios: I’m beginning to see why you excel at making wizards blush.
Dorian grinned.
D: I wasn’t lying when I said I’d claim victory. Now, tell me: When can I see this blushing wizard in person? Preferably over wine
D: Perhaps you could even give a demonstration of your… magical prowess. Unless you prefer me to take charge
There was another pause, though this time Dorian was confident the other man wouldn’t leave the conversation.
Gale Dekarios: I’m free this weekend. However, I must warn you—discussing the Weave over wine may result in a bottle or two being forgotten entirely. As for the demonstration… I’m open to either, but we’ll see when we reach that point.
D: Maker, this is going to be fun. I’ll arrange something for the both of us
D: Oh, and you can call me Dorian. I apologize for the late introduction. Thank you for the delightful discussion, until then
Dorian took one last glance at the clock. It had been more than ten minutes.
It was a mistake to even mention the word magic when they were together.
Their dinner went just fine, great even. They sat in a quiet corner of the restaurant, a candle resting on the middle of the table. There was hesitance from Gale—he saw Dorian’s profile. He never realized the person he spoke to was so ‘daring’ as Gale put it, while Dorian would've called it ‘adventurous and sexy’.
Despite the initial awkwardness, it quickly melted away as Dorian led the conversation. Gale recently moved from one end of the city to the next—the reason left out of his explanation, but Dorian didn't push. Something in Dorian told him it was past relationship issues, though that may be his love for drama speaking.
What intrigued him more was Gale’s occupation: A professor at Blackstaff Academy. It was no small feat, despite Gale insisting otherwise. Of course, the topic of the academy naturally led to that of magic. And of course, Dorian had to say his opinion of its teaching method. Now, they were debating about spellcasting efficiency over red (but not forgotten) wine, the remnants of a hearty meal between them.
“That would only increase the instability,” said Dorian, swirling the wine in his hand.
“For someone unskilled, perhaps.” Gale, meanwhile, had left his glass of wine alone pitifully half-empty. “But a place sensitive to the Weave could dramatically increase a person’s resonance with it—if they can control it.”
Dorian hummed. “Keyword being ‘if’. Most wizards would carelessly let the excess access to the Weave amplify their spells beyond their control. That’s why it's better to cast in a more stable environment.”
Normally, he’d find a debate on a date unattractive, irritating even, when all he wanted was to duck under the table and risk losing his reputation. He’d have already left at this point of the dinner. Instead, he eagerly pulled out a book he brought on a whim. Perhaps, deep inside, Dorian hoped for this outcome. And judging from Gale’s lit-up expression, he wasn't the only one.
They couldn't reach a conclusion; it was getting late.
“I fear we must cut this short, lest we want to be driven out by the waiters.”
“What?” Gale looked at his watch and then out the window. The moon had risen high, illuminating the building and the streets below. “Oh.”
Dorian chuckled. “This is just a guess, but you don’t want to stop, do you?”
“No.” There wasn't any hesitation in his answer. Gale was grinning, his eyes gleaning with unsatisfied curiosity. “Are you… willing to stay over tonight?”
“Oh?”
“My place isn't far from here. I fear we’d miss some forgotten details if we leave this unfinished.”
“Ah, but of course.” Dorian rested his forearms on the table, leaning in. “But I have to warn you; inviting a charismatic, Tevinter mage to your humble abode after a romantic dinner? I hope you understand where this could—will lead to.”
His neck and cheeks quickly turned red as he coughed into his hand. “I do,” breathed Gale. “I intend to make it up to you anyway.”
Dorian tilted his head. “I don't remember you doing anything wrong.”
“This dinner was hardly romantic—strictly academic. I can cook up something small, perhaps set up a few mage lights for you to look charming under.”
Gale conjured up a small ball of light, emitting a gentle blue hue for demonstration. Forget about him looking charming under it, the sight of Gale’s soft smile as the blue light decorated his features almost made Dorian’s heart jump.
“Besides,” Gale canceled the spell, “I enjoy these conversations more than I should—you challenge me. And I’d hate to miss the chance to have more.”
Dorian’s smirk softened. Gale was genuine, not a hint of playfulness nor pride, only his pure enjoyment of pursuing knowledge. And perhaps… his enjoyment of Dorian’s company.
“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”
Gale smirked. “You can’t,” he said with a wink.
Gale insisted on splitting the bill despite Dorian’s offer to pay. He also offered to give him a ride on his bike, and who was he to deny the opportunity?
“You’re… awfully close.”
Dorian pressed himself against Gale’s back as they drove through the streets. He couldn't see the wizard’s face under the helmet, but his shaky voice was enough of a tell.
“I'm only keeping myself safe, dear Gale.” Dorian circled his arms around Gale’s hips. “It’d be a shame for me to fall before we even have our fun.”
A beat of silence.
“If by ‘fun’, you mean a spirited exchange of magical theories that may or may not culminate in… practical demonstration, then yes. I’d rather you be safe until we arrive.”
Dorian hummed appreciatively, delighting in Gale’s sharp intake of his breath as he leaned in more than strictly necessary. “Then safe I shall be.”
It truly wasn't that far. The motorcycle slowed to a halt as they reached Gale’s apartment, cozy and tucked in a quiet corner of the city. Dorian swung off the bike with a flare of his coat, brushing off inexistent specks of dust from his sleeve. He took off his helmet and saw the other man waiting with an open hand. Gale wordlessly grabbed the helmet and put it away.
Gale unlocked the door, fumbling slightly under Dorian’s watchful gaze. He gestured for Dorian to enter first.
Just as its exterior suggested, the place was comfy, warm, and inviting as if to say “Welcome home”. Bookshelves lined the walls. Most titles he recognized, but a select few caught his eyes and Dorian briefly wondered if he were willing to lend them.
The warm lighting changed to a softer blue hue. He turned to see Gale flicking his wrist, a small smirk adorning his features. Now that he paid closer attention, he could sense many of the furniture and appliances were enchanted in some way.
“Showing off, are we? I approve.”
“I only aim to impress.” Gale walked ahead, turning the corner to what Dorian assumed to be the kitchen. Then, the sound of a stove turning on and of a flame coming alive filled the air. “Please, make yourself at home. Do you drink coffee by any chance?”
“You’d sooner see me chug down Faerûn’s vile beer before any cup of coffee. So no, I don’t.”
Gale laughed. It was sweet, almost infectious. There was less tension in his voice as if he could finally let go in the comfort of his home. “Tea it is, then.”
Ideas already conjured themselves in Dorian’s mind to surprise Gale, to drive the night into something more filled with passion. All he needed to do was to ease himself off his clothing one by one; his coat, then unbutton the top of his shirt, rolling up his sleeves. Gale would no doubt stutter as Dorian nonchalantly revealed more of his skin until there was nothing left to uncover.
But the books stood out to his attention more than he liked to admit.
“You won’t mind me misplacing some of these, will you?” Dorian asked, his hand already pulling one out of its place.
“Read as many as you wish,” Gale called out as he opened what sounded like a fridge, “though make no assumption it’d help in making your arguments.”
Dorian chuckled. “Confident, are we?”
He sat at the kitchen countertop, fighting back the urge to open the book and reading it to his heart’s content (for now). So instead, he enjoyed the sight of Gale in his elements. He was humming, cooking diced apples on the saucepan and what smelled like cinnamon. The other stove was heating water—most likely for their drinks. Gale turned to grab the sugar and paused as he only now registered Dorian’s presence.
“Is something the matter?” asked Dorian, his tone all-knowing.
“I, uh, thought you were reading.”
“Ah, I’ve forgotten all about it,” said Dorian with feigned obliviousness. “It’s hard to read with such a distracting sight.”
Gale averted his eyes, clearing his throat before turning back to his cooking. His movements suddenly became rigid, self-conscious. This might be dangerous.
His bashful smile did things to Dorian that he was afraid to admit. No, it was more than that. This wasn't the first time a man invited him to their home, cooking them food before ravaging each other in their bed.
Gale was different.
Preemptively refilling his empty cup of wine during dinner, the welcoming gesture, grabbing his helmet, asking his preference over tea or coffee—the small actions he did were almost suffocating. They were insignificant, only little acts of kindness purely for the sake of Dorian.
He wasn’t used to it. None of them were done with the aim of taking his clothes off. He wanted to fluster and unravel the wizard as much as he wanted to brush his fingers against his cheek before giving a tender kiss.
Perhaps he drank too much wine.
Gale finished and served Dorian his portion. “Apple crumble sundae,” he said. The apple mix was topped off with a scoop of ice cream and crushed biscuits. “You mentioned liking sweets during dinner. Fortunately, I had just the ingredients for something quick and easy—not that I’m an amateur at cooking, mind you.”
“You’re awfully considerate,” said Dorian, his witty remarks failing him for the moment. It was something he mentioned offhand, he didn't even remember saying it until Gale reminded him.
Gale sat beside Dorian, their elbows slightly brushing against each other. “What kind of host would I be otherwise? Now go on. I rather enjoy seeing guests savour my cooking than just drooling over them.”
Dorian huffed, quickly taking a spoonful. “I’ll have you know I wasn’t drooling—” He bit down a muffled moan as pure sweetness melted in his mouth. The mixed textures were a pleasant surprise. He’d have immediately taken another spoonful if not for Gale’s smug, shit-eating grin.
“You were saying?”
Dorian swallowed and stayed quiet. He opted to open the book to a random page. Luckily, he landed on a page filled with complicated (at a glance) diagrams. “You said adding elemental magic would help in harmonizing with the Weave.”
Gale raised an eyebrow, pausing his spoon of sundae halfway towards his mouth. “That I did.”
“You’re only adding another variable to an already unstable spell. Look at this—they’d clash with each other.”
Perhaps Dorian was distracting himself before Gale melted him away with his tenderness and care. He was… afraid this night would evolve into something more than just a momentary bliss, yet another part of him wanted more.
“You should know them—” Gale cut himself short, shaking his head with a smile. “No, we should save this discussion for a later date.”
“Giving up so soon? This victory almost feels underwhelming.”
Gale smirked. “Oh no, don't mistake my postponing the discussion as surrendering.” The smirk faltered to a small, soft smile. There was something else in his staring, something that tugged at Dorian’s heartstrings. “I just want to enjoy your company. I promised you a more fulfilling night—you deserve more than to hear my academic rambling.”
It was hard to keep his playful nature in front of such a genuine display of want. “You’re mistaken if you think I consider academic rambling unfulfilling.”
Gale huffed out a laugh. “Perhaps you’re right, but I’d rather we restrain ourselves before we stretch our minds too thin. We could watch a movie? I promise, my selection is wide enough for your particular taste.”
Dorian cursed himself inside. He wanted it too, and there was no ulterior motive in Gale’s request. No sultriness to his voice, no lingering stares at his body—he only wanted Dorian’s company. How could he say no to a face like that?
He couldn’t.
They nestled onto the couch with pillows, a blanket, and whatever was necessary for extra comfort (Dorian’s need for comfort, to be exact). They sat beside each other, their arms brushing as they leaned into the other’s touch. Somehow, somewhere along the lines, their position evolved. Dorian leaned on the armrest as Gale rested his back against his front as if such intimate touches were nothing significant. It was distracting—more than distracting. Truth be told, if Gale were to ask his opinion on the movie, Dorian wouldn’t be capable of answering.
“You’re quiet,” Gale remarked.
Dorian glanced down; Gale’s eyes were still fixed towards the screen. “I’m just enjoying the movie,” he said, his answer lacking his usual edge.
Gale only hummed acknowledgment.
Dorian’s arm rested on the armrest, while the other was on the head of the couch. He wanted so badly to circle his arm again around Gale’s waist. He’d already done it before, yet now it felt infinitely more intimate than when they blitzed past the streets.
Dorian relented.
Gale hummed again, pleased as he felt Dorian’s arm making its place home around his waist. He leaned his head to more comfortably lay on Dorian’s chest. The sound of the movie was barely recognizable in Dorian’s ears, now only focusing on Gale’s soft breathing and the little content noises he made.
“You know,” Dorian said quietly, “this isn’t... easy for me.”
Gale turned his head to face him, his expression softening as if silently urging him to continue at his own pace.
Dorian huffed out a long breath, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand instinctively pulled Gale closer. “I’ve had... experiences back home, shall we say. Disapproving parents, fake people; your typical story.”
“Tevinter,” said Gale, his understanding tone already telling Dorian he needn’t explain more than needed.
“It was the reason I moved here—or ran if I’m being completely honest.” He found it hard to keep his voice steady, but he continued. “Over there, letting someone in never ends well. I know it isn’t the same here, but the human heart works in mysterious ways.”
Gale was quiet for a moment, then reached out, his hand brushing against Dorian’s wrist. “I’m not them,” he said softly. “And I don’t expect anything from you except what you’re willing to give.”
Dorian swallowed. He wasn’t surprised, yet Gale’s reaction still made him choke anyway. “You make it sound so simple,” he said, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t quite suppress.
“Maybe it is,” Gale replied. “Or maybe it’s just worth trying. At whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”
Dorian forced a smirk. “That’s a dangerous promise to make to someone you’ve known for less than a day, Gale.”
Gale sat up and faced Dorian, cross-legged. “It may only be less than a day, but these moments already told me a lot about you.” He leaned forward, resting their forehead together as his hand still held onto Dorian’s, gently rubbing his thumb over its back. “Enough for me to be willing to try.”
“Maker, you make this unreasonably hard.” Dorian’s voice was filled with frustration and relief at the same time. He knew men who’d play with his heart so skillfully, he didn’t even realize until it was already broken in two. Yet… he sensed none of that from the man before him. “I like you, Gale. More than I think is safe. I want to get to know you better, see what makes you smile and blush—and Maker forbid, spend a quiet afternoon over tea debating whatever magical theories we disagree with that day.”
Gale smiled, reaching out a hand towards Dorian’s cheek. There was hesitance, but he soon leaned into the touch. Gale leaned forward inch by inch, examining his expression for any sign of rejection. He was met with none.
Dorian closed the distance between them.
The kiss was soft, tentative—perhaps even nervous coming from the previously witty and charming mage. Gale’s breath caught before he melted into the kiss, his other hand finding its way to Dorian’s shoulder as he leaned in. They pulled away, eyes never leaving each other's.
The pause didn’t last for long before Dorian leaned in for another, hungrier, desperate, kiss. Gale let out a startled noise and Dorian swallowed it greedily. Dorian brushed his hands through Gale’s hair, pulling him closer, and the whine Gale made almost drove him over the edge. They broke apart with a gasp.
“Normally, you’d be out of your clothes by now,” Dorian breathed, “but I’ll spare you the embarrassment.”
Gale let out a small laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair from Dorian’s forehead. “How terribly kind of you.”
“You should be grateful.” Dorian darted his eyes away, unsure of what to say (or do) next. He wanted another kiss and at the same time wanted to pull the man into a hug and drift off to sleep, and nothing more. “Now, would you care to guide me? As you probably have already guessed, I’m quite new to this ‘taking things slow’ thing.”
“I’d love to."