Chapter 19

September 1973

By the time fall rolled in, Bill was tenser than a rubber band about to snap.

They'd met at least once a month, throughout the summer. Either he would visit Bobby for the weekend, or the opposite, and they would spend two days going for hikes, to the museum, the cinema, the restaurant. All the while staring at each other with a growing intensity that left Bill half-hard most of the time, bursting at the seams by the time Sunday evening came.

He was on his way to St. Louis again. Sweaty palms on the steering wheel, head full of the dirty images that had grown to crowd his mind night and day. He was fairly confident Bobby's thoughts were along the same lines, as they spent more and more time together.

But there had been other moments, too. Softer ones, delicate as spun glass, that Bill would treasure for as long as he remembered them.

And yet, all of this had to stop, now. They couldn't keep dancing around each other for any longer, he would go mad. His concentration at work had already slipped one too many times.

For once in his life, he was going to be brave.

His hands were clammy with nerves when he parked in front of Bobby's house. It was a familiar drive, now, and he didn't even have to knock before letting himself in, now. He was expected. Welcomed.

He did ring the doorbell, today. He'd imagined how this would go too many times now, and the story in his head was too good for him to dare disrupt it.

Bobby opened with a frown.

"I told you you could…"

He trailed off when he noticed the flowers in Bill's hand.

"Oh."

Bill held his breath. Hoping to all the gods he could think of that he hadn't read the signs wrong. That all the hand-holding hadn't just been friendly, that the side-eye looks Bobby had been giving him carried the same heat Bill felt as soon as the other man was near.

He didn't know much about flowers, though he was sure there was one color that was hard to get wrong. He held out the bouquet of red roses that he'd stopped to get in the center of St. Louis.

Bobby smiled and his fingers briefly touched Bill's as he accepted it.

"They're beautiful."

"They had to be," Bill exhaled.

"You got something to apologize for?" Bobby teased, one eyebrow raised.

"What? No! I hope not."

Bobby moved to the side, nodding towards the inside of the house.

"Come in."

Bill left his suitcase behind the door, pausing to acknowledge the cat who was rubbing himself against his legs. That was something else that'd changed. And he secretly wondered just how much of the cat's behavior could indicate the master's feelings.

Bobby disappeared to the kitchen to get some water for the flowers, or at least Bill assumed. He wasn't expecting to see him reappear in his swim trunks.

"I was about to go for a swim while I waited for you," the other man explained with a smile that could only be described as cheeky. "As always, you're welcome to join, or just… watch."

Bill remained frozen in place, staring at Bobby's back, legs and yes, obviously, his ass swaying as he crossed the living room, opened the French door and jumped straight in the pool. Bill took one look down at Poppy and inhaled a shaky breath.

"Well… we better go watch, then, don't we?"

Poppy meowed something unintelligible, and decided that hopping on the couch was what he wanted to do. Poor cat had put on some weight since getting neutered, but to be fair, it might also be all the extra rations that Bill had been slipping him under the table in order to get the cat's favors.

He took off his shoes and socks in the living room, and went to stand at the edge of the pool, loving the feeling of the warm tiles beneath his soles. Bobby was already swimming laps, as if they could go on pretending that was what he'd really been planning to do.

Bill had never gotten in the pool, not once since he'd first come here. At the beginning, he had the excuse of not having packed swim-trunks. Then, he'd forgotten them. The third time, Bobby made it clear that it wasn't an obligation, and he knew Bill was making excuses. However he never stopped taking time in their weekends to soak in the warm water, knowing full well that Bill, indeed, was always happy to watch.

But not today. Bill had come here with a purpose, a plan, and he wasn't going to get delayed. His courage was a fleeting thing, and he worried that the longer he waited, the less he'd have left over.

He moved up, his resolve sudden and strong. He barely blinked once before he was at the edge of the pool, walking down the steps that led into the water.

He waded in, his gaze firmly fixed on Bobby, whose eyes widened as Bill's trousers became soaked to the knees, then up to his groin. He clenched his teeth through the next step, water finally going above his waist. Bobby's ease at getting in had belied the real temperature inside the pool.

Bill stopped feeling the water, past this point, his only focus the man who was gaping at him, seemingly transfixed when Bill finally made it in front of him. He must have been a ridiculous sight, with his shirt sticking to his chest and his nipples peeking through it.

It didn't matter. He laid a cold hand on Bobby's cheek and kissed him for the first time in twenty-two years.

He felt Bobby's shaky exhale right against his lips and swallowed it, pressing himself closer to the other man. In all the years they'd done this, he couldn't remember initiating much. He would always follow Bobby's lead, always too scared to make his own decisions. Not today.

He wrapped one hand around Bobby's jaw, the other around his waist and pushed until he had him pressed against the edge of the pool, moaning softly. He wasn't pushing him away.

God, all this time, all those mistakes and Bobby wasn't pushing him away. If anything he was pulling him closer by the back of his neck, opening up so their tongues could meet.

For a perfect, quiet moment, all Bill could hear was the soft puffs of air they shared, and the gentle lapping of water around them. It was still over too soon when Bobby pulled back, hand still cradling his neck.

Bill's eyes desperately searched his face for a clue that this had truly been welcome, and that Bobby hadn't let him out of pity, or nostalgia. But on his companion's face there was only joy, a smile truly made of the purest excitement and relief.

"That couldn't have waited for you to take off your clothes?" Bobby laughed, leaning his face into Bill's hand.

"We waited long enough," Bill replied, for once in his life sure of himself.

"You silly old man," Bobby murmured, then wrapped both arms around Bill's neck and encased him in a hug.

Despite all his best efforts, the feeling of his clothes sticking to his skin was beginning to get on Bill's nerves and he gave an involuntary twitch, which prompted Bobby to let go. The other man fondly shook his head at the state of him and said, patting the wet fabric of his shirt:

"Come on, let's get out of here and dry you up."

They held hands until they were inside the house, both of them leaving wet footprints all over the carpet of the living room. Bobby had wrapped himself in the towel he'd brought with him to the pool, and quickly patted himself dry before facing Bill again.

His gaze turned hungry as soon as his eyes started trailing over Bill's wet form, and Bill shivered when Bobby paused to lick his lips as he stared at his chest.

"Look at you…" Bobby whispered, almost as if unaware he was even speaking.

He took a few steps and was standing before Bill, hands going to his bow tie.

"It's not much to look at," Bill made himself laugh.

Bobby shook his head, sending water droplets flying around him. "Nonsense," he replied, his tone stern and adamant as he quickly removed Bill's bow tie and threw it on the couch, then started working on the buttons down his shirt.

Every new one opened let the air cool him down and by the time his stomach was exposed, Bill's flesh was covered in goosebumps. It still was nothing compared to the feeling of Bobby sliding his thumbs under his suspenders, and sliding them off while maintaining eye contact. It was too much, the warmth that consumed him then, and Bill looked away.

"Is this okay?" he heard the words softly spoken next to his ear.

Bobby had stopped with both hands splayed on his chest, right under the lapels of his shirt. Bill could feel his nipples pebbled under Bobby's palms, straining for more contact, and the thought alone was enough to bring him to full hardness.

Words had escaped him – so he gasped, and answered with an eager nod. Bobby's fingers slid upwards to his shoulders, and it took very little effort to push his shirt off him. It fell, the bottom of it still trapped in his trousers, but Bobby seemed determined to do a thorough job of this, and fell to his knees in front of him.

He sent a look up at him that was so burning Bill moaned aloud.

"Fuck…"

Bobby hid his grin by pressing his face into his belly, nuzzling at the fat of it before he undid Bill's fly and peeled his pants off him. Bill stepped out of them in a daze, and found himself in his underwear, finally matching Bobby in their states of undress, while the other man still knelt at his feet, both hands clasped tight around Bill's hips.

"As much as I want to lick you all over, I'm not sure I want to swallow the chlorine from the pool," Bobby hummed, as if it wasn't the most devastating thing Bill had heard in decades. "What do you say we both shower and reconvene after?"

Bobby looked up at him again, chin digging under Bill's navel, completely ignoring the erection that was tenting Bill's boxers. His thumbs slowly traced the vee of Bill's groin, sending his hips twitching and Bobby's grin then was nothing but innocent.

"Right, yes," Bill said around a dry throat. "Shower."

Bobby blew a short breath over the damp skin of his stomach and finally got up, letting Bill's poor senses catch a break.

"You go first," Bobby said, padding to the kitchen and giving Bill a full view of his ass in those swim trunks. "I'll pour us a drink."

Bill felt himself nod, but it was a few seconds before he managed to look away and think of where the bathroom was. He remembered just in time that running with wet feet was a recipe for disaster, and made himself slow down, despite how much he was craving Bobby's touch back.

He took a shower so quick it reminded him of their boarding school days, the military discipline and rationing of all resources. Ignoring his half hard cock, he wrapped himself in the robe that had become his since his first day here. Pushing away all the questions that reared their head about what would become of this, he took a deep breath and returned to the living room to find two glasses of scotch on the coffee table, and a still half-naked Bobby rifling through his collection of vinyls.

He looked up and smiled, pulling a black disc out of its case and putting it on the record player.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back," he said, and bent to quickly kiss Bill on the cheek as he passed him by.

Skin tingling, Bill went to sit on the couch, staring dumbly at the drinks. It felt silly to start by himself, especially since he had no idea what came next. He let himself be calmed by the first notes of instrumental swing that came out of the speakers. Bobby had always loved music more than Bill ever did, was always the one to excitedly switch on the radio, looking for the frequency playing songs that would have given the headmaster a heart attack if they'd been caught listening. Bill had never found an interest in it unless his friend had been around, if only to bask in his joy and let himself be gained by it.

He counted on his knuckles the number of full breaths it took for Bobby to return – fifteen – and immediately looked when he heard the shower stop running, keeping his eyes trained on the entrance of the room until Bobby appeared there, wearing the same kind of robe he himself was. He'd tied the belt loosely around his waist, letting it fall slightly open on his chest and the sparse, darker curls there. He smiled at Bill and came to sit next to him, turned to face him on the couch.

Bill couldn't focus on anything but the knowledge they were both naked under the layer of white fleece. How little effort it would take to pull them off and finally see each other except… except he wasn't sure Bobby would be so eager once he saw him fully nude. His body had changed so much since they'd last done this, much more than Bobby's had, and surely there wasn't much on him to be excited about.

Bobby must have sensed his hesitations, because next he said:

"You know we can wait some more…"

Bill finally allowed himself to look at the other man properly. He hadn't really bothered to dry his hair which was sticking to his forehead, and once he looked closely, he realized that he was wrong, Bobby had changed from the thirty-or-so-year-old he'd remembered. There were lines around his eyes and mouth, between his brows, and the skin of his jaw wasn't as taut as it used to be. But he wasn't less beautiful.

And fuck, Bill had spent years desperately trying to make himself not fall completely for him, while completely oblivious to how in love with him he'd been. And Bobby deserved better than an ever fleeing, cowardly lover who ran at the slightest inconvenience.

So Bill shook his head and reached for the glasses on the table, offering one up to Bobby who took it with a smile. They made a silent toast, but Bill felt he knew what it was to. Second chances, new beginnings. Being braver than he'd dared to be in the past.

He took a sip of the scotch, but quickly found that he meant what he'd said in the pool. He was done waiting.

Slowly, he reached for Bobby's hand and took his glass from him again. Bobby let him with a smile, and when Bill leaned in for a kiss, this time he met him halfway. Bill felt the thrill of it all the way down his spine, a sensation he hadn't experienced in very long months. It hadn't been passionate with Margaret after the wedding, and really, he'd been stupid for thinking he could have made that relationship work with only a bit of paper and a ring. But now was not the time to think about his ex-wife.

Not when Bobby's mouth was sliding wetly over his, or when he bit his lower lip and fisted a hand in the front of his robe. A surge of heat flooded Bill's chest and he pushed forward until Bobby was crowded against the armrest and he was lying half on top of him. Soon enough, Bobby pulled at his shoulders and they rearranged themselves, Bobby spreading his legs to make room for Bill between them.

Fair to say that with a simple robe on, there was soon a lot of skin touching and rubbing and sticking together, pulling a breathless whimper from Bill's throat. Bobby stopped their kiss then, only to leave enough space between them for a question:

"Still okay?"

Bill nodded and captured the other man's lips again.

"Very okay, yes," he whispered after a second.

Bobby grinned and pulled him in again, slipping a hand in his hair, scratching at his scalp and gently pulling. Bill's head spun with arousal and he thought to compose himself by pressing kisses down Bobby's neck instead. He felt him squirm under him, and just like that, Bobby's cock was hard against Bill's thigh.

The moan that echoed in the living room must have been both of theirs, then. Too distracted to continue his kisses, Bill paused with his forehead resting against the armrest, forgetting what an opening this would give Bobby.

He couldn't have controlled the sound that left him when a strong hand tilted his head backwards, and Bobby's teeth closed around the side of his neck, then bit down. The electric shock of pleasure coursed through him, from Bobby's mouth to his groin, and his hips twitched uncontrollably. Bobby held on long enough, hard enough and it was perfect, the exact amount of pain that could make Bill come twice as fast and twice as hard.

When Bobby let go, Bill pressed eager fingers into the bite mark, feeling the wetness of saliva on his skin, and looked into his lover's face to find him smirking.

"You thought I'd have forgotten about that?" Bobby asked, voice loaded with confidence, but still arousal-strained.

Bill had no comeback for that, couldn't explain what it was doing to his brain that Bobby had kept with him the memory of what made his body tick, of how to bring him pleasure…

So he fell into another kiss, pouring all of what he was feeling into it. Their hands met in the middle, and they both laughed when they realized they were hindering each other in pulling their bathrobes open.

As Bill predicted, it took barely a flick of the wrist to get them to fall loose, baring their fronts. He lowered himself onto Bobby again, and felt his fingers digging into his back hard when he lined up their cocks and began thrusting.

This was more than they'd ever done together. And distantly, under the haze of desire, Bill thought of how patient Bobby had been to satisfy himself with hidden kisses and hasty hand jobs for so many years, when he could have had this. So much more, what he truly deserved.

Then Bobby wrapped a leg around Bill's hip, and he stopped thinking.

For what might have been the first time in his life, Bill let go of all thoughts and let his body do the talking. It wasn't unlike boxing, except even then he'd been thinking ahead to his opponent's next move. Not today. There was no conscious thought in the way he rutted against Bobby, or how he grabbed his thigh and used it for leverage.

He could simply be, and absorb all the little breathless sounds that Bobby was making, the way his breath hitched when Bill thrust harder. He let his own voice go when Bobby bit around his shoulder again, and never stopped pressing new bites all over his neck, didn't even spare a thought for the marks it would leave afterwards.

They could have made it better with lubricant of some kind, but neither man made any move to let go and move. They had about two decades to catch up on. They would have the time to do more later. Oh god, Bill hoped there would be a later.

"Fuck, I missed you so much," Bobby gasped, clasping a hand on Bill's ass and urging him to move faster.

It was the admission, whispered like a love confession in the throes of orgasm, that pushed Bill over the edge. He moved on instinct, simply whining in Bobby's neck as he came on his belly, hips pumping wildly.

"Shit, yes," Bobby moaned, and trembled until Bill felt him come under him.

He let himself fall limp on top of the other man who let out a happy groan. For once, Bill wasn't even thinking about his weight, just content to float in a pool of endorphins and feeling sweet kisses dropped above the places where Bobby's teeth had dug into his flesh.

It took a good minute for both of them to regain some sort of awareness, and for Bill to realize just how badly he must be crushing Bobby into the couch.

"Fuck, I'm sorry…" he apologized, pushing himself up only to be immediately caught by greedy hands.

"No no. Come back here," Bobby pouted, pulling him back down.

Bill frowned, still holding himself up on trembling arms.

"But I'm fat," he argued, the words coming out without the sugar coating he would usually have attempted.

Bobby tutted and wrapped his arms more fully around Bill's middle, bringing him down with one sharp tug.

"Good for me. More of you to enjoy," he mumbled, and nuzzled against Bill's neck.

Oh. It was all his brain could come up with, in between the maelstrom of emotion and information that was all of… this. That Bobby had noticed the size of him under the careful layering of his shirts and blazers, and could have still taken hungry bites out of him as if he was something to be wanted for real.

"We're going to be glued together," he offered as a meager protest.

"I've got solvent in the garage," Bobby countered immediately, as if it was something perfectly logical to say.

And for another first time in his life, Bill fell into a fit of laughter, naked and pressed against his lover. He laughed and laughed, his chest shaking with it and soon Bobby was laughing too, arms squeezing around him until they were vibrating as one.

When the hilarity subsided, a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over Bill. He laid his cheek against Bobby's and allowed himself a tiny bit of spontaneity, just a little bit more to say:

"I missed you too."

Bobby hummed against his temple, then kissed his chin.

"Good thing it's not too late, then."

Bill hoped so.

But he didn't have all the words he wanted to articulate exactly what he hoped for the future. He wasn't sure he himself knew what he wanted.

So he enjoyed their embrace for a while longer, until they finally agreed that it was high time for a second shower. They made it quick, washing themselves and only sharing the spray for a kiss or two before they hopped into some clean clothes for Bill, and another simple white robe for Bobby. As if he wasn't distracting enough.

"I think I want something to eat with my alcohol now," Bobby declared, going into the kitchen.

Bill stood in the doorway and watched him open the fridge, then turn around holding a little glass jar.

"Caviar?" Bobby asked, his mouth spread into a cheeky grin.

Bill gaped at him.

"Caviar?" he repeated, incredulous. "What kind of... post-coital snack is that?"

Bobby shrugged as he closed the fridge.

"Dunno. An ex brought it back from Russia as a gift."

The words were casual and yet something sprang to life in Bill's belly at the idea of Bobby with another man. Though he knew he wouldn't have stayed celibate for twenty years, it… well it hurt, in a way, knowing Bobby had been his only experience with a man, while Bill was only an old memory in the lot. Jealousy and envy spreading through him, he cleared his throat and made himself ask:

"Russia?"

Bobby was already getting bread from a box and popping it into the toaster when he answered, still teasing:

"Yeah. Does it bother you that I may have fucked a spy?"

"Uh," Bill stammered. "I hadn't even thought of that."

Bobby threw him a knowing glance but, mercifully, let the remark pass. He got the jar open and prepared a tray for them while Bill didn't dare ask if caviar and scotch went well together. It felt like whatever they would eat would be ruined by the bitter aftertaste in his mouth, now that the post-orgasmic haze was leaving him, and the ruminations made a comeback.

He fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, then his suspenders, wondering if he should offer Bobby some help. He didn't get the chance, Bobby leading them back into the living room. Bill felt his face go red at the sight of the couch. There were no signs of their earlier romp, apart from a few wrinkles on the leather. Soon, it would be as if it had never happened.

They sat with a few inches between them, and Bill waited in silence, staring at Bobby's hands while he spread some caviar on the toast, until he handed one to him. He took it and brought it to his mouth. It tasted just as he remembered it from his first wedding. And there was really a problem there, wasn't it? That he was still thinking of the past, and women, when he had the most wonderful man sitting next to him, bringing him expensive snacks and waiting for him to make the next move.

Unfortunately, what Bill's mind came up with was this:

"How many... lovers have you had?"

Bobby heaved a deep sigh, as if he'd been expecting such a question. He put the caviar and toast back onto the tray, then turned to sit cross legged on the couch, giving Bill a focused look. He looked tired. Weary, when he took a deep breath and said on an exhale:

"What does it matter, Bill? Why are you even asking, to compare yourself, to know if I"m worth your one shot at being with a man?"

Bill's mouth fell open. He desperately raked through his brain for a reasonable answer, but didn't find anything before Bobby went on:

"Where is your threshold of acceptability placed? Ten? Fifteen? Thirty? Fifty?"

Bobby got up brusquely then, the belt of his robe flying around him. "It doesn"t matter how many people I"ve slept with, if you want to be with me enough you can live without that number."

Shame flooded Bill's cheeks with warmth and he lowered his eyes.

"I… yes, of course. I don't know why I asked."

Bobby plopped down on the couch again, sighing.

"Bill… How do you think I felt receiving an invitation to your fucking wedding?" he asked, his mouth twisting with disgust over the last words.

Cold filled Bill's belly. He hadn't… He remembered putting Bobby's name on the list. He didn't know what he'd hoped for, then.

A reply? To say what, congratulations on moving on from me so well?

Had he really wanted for Bobby to show up at the reception, to act as his friend, his colleague he could introduce to his new family? Had he hoped for Bobby to find a place in his life again now that there was no room for romance anymore?

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you can be. Fuck you've got no right to be jealous, Bill. You're the one who put all the limits on our relationship, you don't get to be all sad that I had boyfriends after you."

Bill stared at his own knees, and his trembling hands resting on them. There he went, fucking things up once more just when they were getting good again. The only thing he was any talented at, really.

"You're right. I don't get to… throw those feelings at you."

Bobby let out a groan and pulled his feet up to rest them on the couch.

"Look, I"m gay, I slept with a bunch of men, you"re bisexual, you"ve been married twice... we don"t have to keep count okay?"

It all made sense. They were on equal footing, apart from the fact that it was Bill who had fucked up their relationship originally, but…

"I never... thought of it like that," he whispered.

"Like what?"

"About... myself."

He chanced a look at Bobby, trying to gauge the situation, and if he'd ruined things for good, or if there could be something to salvage. To his immense relief, Bobby's expression had softened.

"Hm. So you told yourself I was a phase, then?"

Bobby should have sounded angry. But he didn"t. He had his chin in one palm and was hiding a smile, pulling a puzzled frown from Bill.

"I... I don"t know. I think it was easier, yes, since I am attracted to women, to..."

"Bill. It"s okay. I don"t care what you call yourself. And I don"t want to make you admit anything either. Just... I don"t wanna think about the past, or the future right now. I"ll give myself a headache. Can we just enjoy ourselves for a bit?"

Bill looked at Bobby's hand, tentatively extended towards him. He took it with a little shiver, and threaded their fingers. Soon, Bobby was resting his head on Bill's shoulder, his naked legs extended in front of him, feet on the coffee table.

They let themselves fall into a peaceful silence, caviar and drinks forgotten. Bill was at least trying his damnedest to forget about it.

"Was he really a spy?"

Bobby laughed, jostling his shoulder.

"Really? No, I don't think so. But then again even if he was, it's not like I had any big secrets to reveal." He paused, and gave a thoughtful hum. "And for what it's worth, I don"t think the Russians care very much who I fuck."

"Maybe..." Bill frowned. "Oh, let's not call him the Russian?"

He could hear Bobby's eyeroll without looking.

"Viktor," the other man reluctantly answered.

"Viktor... maybe he cares?"

"Pf, I doubt it."

"Why not?"

Bobby pushed himself to sit up, turning on the couch to face Bill again. He shrugged.

"Well, it was never serious with him."

"Why not?"

Bobby smiled.

"Are you done with your questions?"

"Oh..." Bill exhaled, giving it a thought. "Yes. I think so."

"Good. Kiss me now."

"Alright."

He pressed his smile against Bobby's, and let himself forget about all of his interrogations. Bobby was right, none of the answers could matter enough that they would change his mind. He wanted this, wanted the slow way Bobby tongued his mouth open, or the hand Bill slipped under the collar of his lover's bathrobe.

"We will talk at some point," Bobby mumbled against his neck.

Bill shivered, more from the kisses being placed there than the affirmation.

"Yes," he moaned.

Bobby chuckled, and slowly, so Bill knew it was coming, gathered the skin of his neck between his teeth and put pressure. Bill squeezed his thighs together and whimpered. He wouldn't get hard again, not so soon, but Bobby sure was challenging his body's ability to do so.

"Please don't leave a mark where my secretary can see," he exhaled, vaguely aware that Bobby's teeth were pinching fairly high on his neck.

The other man pulled back, licking his lips.

"What, is she gonna get jealous? Got a thing going on with her?" he added with a frown.

"What? No! God, she's thirty years younger than me, Bobby. She does like to pester me about my personal life though, and I'd never hear the end of it," Bill sighed. "I already haven't been the best of professionals, recently…"

Bobby hummed and before he knew it, Bill was getting straddled, the weight of his lover settling over his pelvis.

"Why?" Bobby smirked. "Were you distracted or something?"

Bill took a second to admire him. The belt around his waist was coming loose and the lapels of the robe had fallen open to reveal down to mid-chest, where the hair was getting scarcer. He ran a hand up from his belly to his sternum, and stopped to rest his palm over his heart.

"Of course I was. I spent the summer trying to win back the…"

Love of my life.

He almost said it, tip of his tongue pressed behind his teeth, and stopped himself. Bobby smiled, small and wistful.

"Shhh."

Bill pulled him down with his other hand around his neck, and kissed him until Bobby knew the shape of the words.

He was right, they would need to talk later.

There was so much that needed to be said, explained, understood. But for now, he could be happy in the moment, unravel Bobby's robe and run both hands down his sides, press his thumbs into the crease of his hips until the other man was shifting on his lap.

"We're too old for this," Bobby chuckled when Bill slipped fingers between his legs.

"What?"

"Fucking twice in a row."

Bill joined him in laughter. He wasn't sure if it was the orgasm endorphins, but he could feel weight lifting off him so fast that he was worried only the ceiling would stop him from flying away.

"Bobby. I spent our time together, when we were younger, hiding you in cupboards and barely even touching you properly. If you think anything's gonna stop me from admiring you today, you're wrong."

Bobby shivered, and reached down to grab Bill's wrist.

"Where's all that confidence coming from?"

"Honestly," Bill raised his eyebrows, "I have no idea."

He shook too, when Bobby slowly kissed the heel of his hand.

"I think," his lover said, his syllables slow and measured, "we might need to take this to my bedroom."

"Oh yeah?"

Bobby nodded and kissed him again.

"Yeah. There's a few things there I want to make use of."

Bill tried to hold on to him when Bobby got up and off his lap, but wasn't too disappointed when it meant he got a full view of the man's front, something he'd never seen before.

"Like what?" he rasped.

Bobby held his gaze for a second, then made a show of letting the robe slide off his shoulders.

"A bed. And lube."

He turned around, and Bill barely held back a moan at the sight of his ass, until Bobby looked over his shoulder and asked:

"You coming?"