Chapter Eleven

The Poe collection remained untouched that night, Alex and Elijah content to spend another hour or so together on the couch while they talked about nothing particularly important and held each other like it meant everything. Saturday, Elijah was back at his grandpa's, and he stopped by for a quick hello with Poe before going home to get changed for work and ready to smile for anyone and everyone, even if all the best of him was saved for Alex, and maybe Elena too. Then on Sunday, Alex and Elijah decided to have a lazy day with Elena, all movies and music and board games and hot apple cider, hours of laughter keeping them from the box Alex has moved to a shelf in his home office for the time being. It was only when Elijah was getting ready to leave, Elena having gone upstairs to pack for her week at Cassidy's, that they finally mentioned it again, Alex inviting Elijah over for dinner the following night.

The knock at the door that Monday evening is soft, but Alex has been waiting for it, and he tugs Elijah inside as soon as he can, his hand at Elijah's side when he kisses him hello, deep and filthy.

"We're never gonna open that book, are we?" Elijah teases as Alex pulls away.

"We definitely will," Alex tells him. "Just needed that first, and then maybe some dinner."

"It's strange how much quieter this house is when Elena's not here, even though she's not really a noisy kid."

"God, tell me about it. I've been wandering around like this for months."

Elijah follows him into the kitchen, where Alex has a pot of soup on the stove and a loaf of sourdough warming in the oven, and Elijah opens the refrigerator to grab two bottles of beer while Alex slips oven mitts over his hands.

"Was there any argument between you and Cassidy about who would keep the house in the divorce?"

"Nope," Alex says, putting the sourdough on a cutting board before he stirs the soup for another several seconds. "No matter what the actual reasons for the split, she always said that it was her decision to leave, and that she wouldn"t kick me out. She's still on title, but there was no fight about me being the one to live here."

"But it's hard, being here alone."

"Yes and no. It's hard being here because there's just so much empty space full of far too many memories, and it all starts to rattle me when I think about it too much. The alone part I don't really mind, but the size of this place bothers me more than I ever thought it would. I'd probably let Cassidy have it if we could go back and do it over, but she's happy where she's at now."

Elijah takes a sip of his beer and nods. "You could always move, right? Find something smaller for you and Elena."

"Sure, but I'm not gonna take her away from the friends she has in the neighborhood, or the park she practically took her first steps in," Alex shrugs. "And of all the things to whine about, I'm not sure having a big house is a fair one."

"I'll just have to come over and make noise a little more often," Elijah says.

"Why do I have a feeling you have very little trouble being loud?" Alex teases, but the moment he hears it, he blushes furiously, comforted only when he catches Elijah ducking his head to hide the same, his knuckles tight around his bottle. "Okay, fuck. Yeah, I'm just gonna take that back."

"No need to take it back. We can definitely—I'm sure we'll—" Elijah shakes his head and offers a resigned sigh. "Just—we should probably have dinner now."

They move into the dining room a minute later and do exactly that, the conversation light until there's a shift they can both feel, an anxiousness about the rest of Peter and Edgar's story, set aside for days and screaming for attention now. The rest of the meal is mostly silent, not uncomfortable but with a goal of finishing quickly so they can move into the living room, Elijah eventually clearing the table while Alex goes to get the box from his office.

They meet on the couch, nervous.

"Why does it feel like everything is so different now?" Alex asks. "Why is this harder than it was at the beginning?"

"Everything is different now, which is probably exactly why it's harder, too. A couple of months ago, I didn't even know you, but now we're in the middle of this story and we don't know where it goes from here. It's a little scary."

"But worth it?"

Elijah smiles. "I'd like to think it's always worth it."

They open the box, then the faux book, and it's still just as overwhelming as it had been the first time, but they decide to try to get some kind of control over it now, sorting through everything they find, most of it meticulously dated so they can put the rest of Peter and Edgar's lives in order before they read on. The pictures slow them down though, often breathtaking even without the full context, proof of their relationship without being proof of anything at all, two men so often careful not to touch with the camera there to catch them, but so clearly in love all the same. And one picture, taken in the early 70s, their backs mostly turned to the photographer, one hand at the other's back, leaned in to tell a secret, like that wasn't the way they'd lived forever.

"Someone took all of these," Alex says stupidly.

"Yeah," Elijah agrees. "My grandpa, maybe. Or they—there had to have been someone else in their lives, right?"

"I hope so."

They go back to sorting things for a while—letters appearing more often at the beginning, cards for all sorts of occasions taking over the majority later, random ticket stubs or pictures or scribbled notes everywhere in between—and then they sit back to read what seems to be the first thing tucked away after they'd written in the margins all those years ago.

My dear Peter, it's been nearly five years since the first time I stepped through your front door, since the first time I kissed you in your home, and since the first time I spent the entire night in your arms, only to have to sneak away under that bright, bright sun. It's been so much longer than that since I first knew I loved you. It will be an eternity before I stop. Every moment I have with you has always been so good.

Now we find ourselves in something of a routine, with enough manufactured reasons for me to visit you at home, even if all the rest can't be explained at all. Our relationship remains a secret kept from the outside world, but we are so regularly joyful within the walls of your beautiful house, and that joy means we no longer need to pass books in the quiet of your office. We are louder now, but those early days were something.

The truth is, I miss those books sometimes. I really do. Today we're caught in something in between.

So, I write this letter to you now, even if I'll be able to place it in your hand and follow it with a kiss to your lips, only because I miss being able to write to you when it was half of everything we had. Please accept it with all of my love and keep it close to you tomorrow once I've left again.

Always yours, Edgar

Neither of them moves or speaks for a minute after Elijah's finished reading the letter aloud, still staring down at the page and hearing so much of a voice they don't really know.

Eventually, Alex clears his throat. "So, you think your grandpa went away to college or something, and that gave Peter the chance to have Edgar come over sometimes?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Elijah agrees. "And maybe Uncle Edgar couldn't actually live there, but I could imagine enough excuses for why he might be there at any given time."

"You really don't think anyone got suspicious about it?"

Elijah shrugs. "I mean, it's possible. And we have a lot more to read, obviously. But I think my great grandfather's wealth would've allowed for some privacy in the neighborhood, even if they had to take basic precautions."

"What do you think Edgar meant about being caught in between?" Alex wonders.

"I think it was probably a confusing time for him—emotionally, anyway," Elijah says. "It always seemed like he was a little more willing to take chances, even early on, but they were really, really limited by circumstance. As long as my grandpa was still young, when there was something obvious to lose, they sort of had to stick to the book exchanges and middle of the night meetings in a shady part of town."

"But then your grandpa moved out, and Peter and Edgar were able to really be together for the first time and had these five years of not having to look over their shoulders while they held each other, even if it was only for a night at a time."

"And that was great, except they still couldn't walk out the front door together and be honest about anything. I mean, I guess they could have, but not really. Not back then," Elijah huffs.

"Not safely," Alex agrees. "So, on the one hand, it felt like they'd made major progress in their relationship—and they had, really—but yeah, I could see why it was still only an in-between. There was so much more they wanted."

"Uncle Edgar, especially, maybe."

They set the letter aside and move on to a response from Peter not terribly long after, and it's a lot of what both of them could've predicted. Apologies for how hard it's always been for them, wishes that it could be different, promises that their love will last regardless. A mix of some greeting cards and letters followed, more spread out now that they could spend nights together, but it's not long before they see the first mention of James meeting the woman who would become Elijah's grandma, and Alex catches the wistful smile on Elijah's face as the history he's familiar with crawls closer to them now.

Talk of a wedding is soon after, one that Peter attended alone while surrounded by people who must have thought they knew him well, and Elijah swipes at a tear when they find a picture taken of Peter and James that day. Something else has both Alex and Elijah wide-eyed a minute later, Alex reading the newest letter aloud.

Edgar, my love, there is no reason for me to be writing this at all when you were at my side for one of the most wonderful nights of my life, but I still feel the need to capture every memory here. Maybe that's a lingering habit from years ago, or maybe it's the hope that this letter will far outlive me so that my family—your family, too—will know that there is always new joy to be had, always happiness to be celebrated. I'll always regret that you couldn't be there for James and Annie's wedding, and I'm certain that is a wound that will never fully heal, but being able to hold your hand tonight as they shared their wonderful news might have been the closest I could get to forgiving myself for any sins of my past.

Throughout dinner, I knew there was something they needed to say, and I was so sure it would be good, but I don't think I could have ever been prepared for this, not so soon.

A grandchild. It takes my breath away.

My love for you has always felt right, but we both know I've always been terribly afraid of all the ways I'm wrong. All the reasons I cannot loudly have what I wish I could shout from every rooftop. But then we sat there, together as we always should be, and my son and his wife told us they are expecting a baby. They were excited to tell us—both of us—because for all the ways this world might not understand what we are, James has never turned away, gentle since the day I first told him about you, and finding a wife who has been tender with us, too. And now, their child, certain to be born into a family full of love, even while our part in it must remain a secret.

Or is that no longer true?

As a new generation is born, is there hope that we might finally have a place outside these walls?

After years of you carefully pushing me to be as brave as you've always been, have I finally arrived there?

Time will tell, as it must do for everyone's story.

All my love, Peter

Elijah pushes up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom without a word, while Alex takes a few deep breaths and refolds the letter. His hand is shaking, which is something of a surprise, but then so much of what he just read was a surprise too, and he needs to give himself the time to come back to the present, Elijah probably working so much harder at doing the same.

It's another five minutes or so before Elijah returns, eyes rimmed red, and his voice rough when he speaks. "Sorry. That was—it was a lot to read in one letter."

"It was, and you definitely don't need to apologize," Alex tells him. "You also don't need to hide from me. Wanting to be alone is one thing, but I don't want you to think you can't stay right here where I can see you cry."

Elijah looks like he fights back the first few things he wants to say, but then he nods. "Okay."

"You want to talk about this one?"

"I just—they both knew," Elijah huffs. "My grandparents both knew, and I—I'm not sure how many of my reactions to that make any sense. I'm kinda feeling it all at once."

"Well, I don't think there are any right or wrong ways to feel about any of this. No good guys or bad guys, right?" Alex says. "But do you want to try to get it all out, however messy it sounds?"

Elijah runs a hand through his hair and Alex watches as the curls end up everywhere at once, longing to help put them back into place and aware that the best he can do is sit back and let Elijah lean on him instead.

"I hated the idea that my great grandfather and Uncle Edgar were all alone, and then when I realized that my grandpa knew, I was—I guess I was relieved that they at least had someone they could be honest with, you know? Just that little relief when they were buried under so many lies." Elijah wraps an arm around Alex's waist, the two of them sort of tangled on the couch. "But now knowing that my grandma was told probably early in her relationship with my grandpa—it's only one more person, but it feels like it changes everything. Like it was only a huge secret in those first years, but then they started letting people in, and I—I don't know."

"You feel like you got left out," Alex concludes.

"Yeah. Doesn't seem like that's very fair to them, though."

"Eh, I'm not sure your feelings have to be fair to anybody. You were close to your grandparents—your grandpa especially—and they knew about Peter and Edgar—"

"And they must have at least guessed about me—"

Alex nods. "So, fair or not fair, you get to be hurt that nobody ever told you. It won't change anything—or it can't change anything, I guess—but I think it would be a lot less fair to pretend you're fine about it, even if more of their story can offer you some answers."

"Okay, yeah," Elijah sighs, the smallest mewl caught in his throat before he goes on. "What about my mom?"

"The baby on the way."

"Mmmhmm."

"It certainly seems like they planned to tell her too," Alex says. "I mean, hell, the end of the letter makes it sound like Peter's finally ready for everything to change, after Edgar had been the one more relaxed about it from the beginning."

"And that was still incredible after the night of his attack," Elijah points out. "But yeah, it does seem like their relationship was at least going to be something the family knew about, even if the world wasn't ready to see them holding hands anywhere else. So, something happened. And it's gonna suck to find out what it is."

Alex presses a kiss to Elijah's temple. "It probably will, yeah. So, how about if we put all this away for now and go upstairs?"

"To your bedroom?"

"Yeah. I mean, unless you—you don't have to."

"Not sure I'll be very loud for you right now," Elijah mumbles.

"I—Christ, no, that's—" Alex freezes, and then absolutely loses it the second he pulls back to look at Elijah, who's still plenty rocked by everything they've read tonight, but who"s also biting his lip to keep from giggling, his cheeks pink. Rolling his eyes, Alex presses a hand to his own chest in mock outrage to play along. "I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort, and I am appalled that you would think I'm using any of your vulnerability to my advantage."

"What if I think you'd actually be doing it all for me? For my advantage?"

"Elijah," Alex breathes, everything spinning back to something tender even before their teasing has fully tripped off their tongues. "There's so much I want to do for you, and—"

"And?" Elijah asks, pulling Alex's hand away from his chest so he can thread their fingers together in his lap.

"And once upon a time, you said I could take from you, too."

"You will. Probably very soon."

Alex relaxes into that, content to wait as long as it's still something Elijah wants. Or something Elijah will encourage Alex to want. Or maybe a lot of both. But right now, he moves away to gather everything they've read, and Elijah grabs his phone, presumably to text Nora about Poe, Alex patient until he'll be able to pull Elijah close to him again.

"C'mon, let's go to bed."

"You have to work in the morning," Elijah reminds him as he pockets his phone, Alex putting the lid back on the box before they make their way upstairs.

"It's okay. I'll be quiet so you can sleep in. Just lock up behind you whenever you go."

Elijah hums, quietly pleased. "That sounds incredibly domestic."

"Maybe I just meant to sound lazy," Alex teases, catching him for a kiss. "But seriously, help yourself to whatever in the morning, do whatever you have to do all day, then come back to me tomorrow night."

"A little dinner, a little emotional upheaval?"

"Yeah, something like that." When they step through the door, he nods toward his dresser and pretends it's the most casual thing in the world. That it's not the only time he's ever had anyone in his bedroom like this—or the only time he's literally slept with anyone like this—other than his wife. "Need to borrow anything to wear to bed?"

His voice breaks a little on the question, but Elijah is right there to put him back together, seeing right through him and stepping close enough to touch his hands to Alex's waist without holding too tightly. "Hey, I don't have to stay here tonight. Or I can sleep on the couch if you want some kind of compromise."

Maybe the couch makes sense, and Alex considers it for the split second it takes to reason his way right back out of the idea. His bed isn't the problem, no matter how many nights he shared it with Cassidy—not when Elijah has already settled into so many of the blank spaces she left behind—and he swallows around the knowledge that it's only what he wants to do in the bed that is leaving him stunned now.

"No, I want this. I've just never—"

Elijah kisses him then, so slowly and so deeply Alex thinks he could drown in it. "There hasn't been anyone else? Even before?"

"Nobody," Alex admits. "And it feels really stupid to say that out loud."

"It's not even a little bit stupid, actually. It's beautiful, and I'm honored to be the one here with you right now, but I promise it's okay if you want me to go," Elijah insists. "I promise I'll come back tomorrow."

And Alex closes his eyes and lets Elijah wrap his arms around him, strong and sure in the middle of a bedroom in which Alex has maybe never been either one. He lets himself nuzzle into Elijah's neck and breathe in all the warmth there before he gives himself permission to taste it too, his lips just barely grazing Elijah's skin. Elijah doesn't move, his embrace neither tightening nor threatening to disappear, though it's impossible to miss the quick hiss when Alex lands just below his ear.

"Don't want you to go," Alex says. "Just need you to be patient with me."

He doesn't wait for an answer—doesn't know if there's one for Elijah to give—too lost in the sensation of his mouth against Elijah's stubble to care about much of anything. Alex drags himself back and forth until he trips back down Elijah's neck, his hands a little clumsy when they curve around the back of Elijah's arms, like he hasn't figured out whether to push or pull.

Eventually, Elijah decides for him when he just barely backs away. "Look at me, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?"

Elijah leans in to nip at Alex's lip. "No?"

"No," Alex says. "I mean, yes, sweetheart is good. And I'm looking at you, I'm just—I'm trying."

"I know that. And I know we've talked about so much of this before, but I really need you to believe that everything that happened these past two weeks—the tension between us—none of that was because you weren't running around screaming to the entire state about me or blowing up social media with a bunch of heart eyes or—I don't know—putting it into a column that you and I are a couple, just like I said that night at dinner," Elijah tells him. "It wasn't because we haven't done more than make out on each other's couches or at each other's front doors. It wasn't even because you wouldn't go out to dinner with me or because you were hesitant to talk to Cassidy and Elena. It was just that—you didn't seem sure about you. Not even about you and me together, really. You just didn't seem sure about you."

"I wasn't," Alex admits. "How could I be sure when I didn't know who the hell I was all that time? Even now I—how can I be sure I won't make the same mistake all over again?"

Elijah doesn't look away as he lifts his hand to cradle the side of Alex's face, Alex leaning into it instinctually, his mouth falling open when the pad of Elijah's thumb drags across Alex's lower lip.

"Does this feel the same?"

"No," he whispers.

Then Elijah slides his hand further back, his fingers scraping through Alex's hair until he can hold him there, his other hand light at Alex's hip. He tugs on Alex just enough to tip his head up toward him and then he's there when Alex surrenders to him without question, Elijah's tongue so goddamn tender even as it makes demand after demand.

And then he's gone, his lips at Alex's cheek. "Did that feel the same?"

"No," Alex repeats, though it sounds an awful lot like a whimper this time.

Elijah smiles—Alex can feel it more than he can see anything at all—and then the hand at Alex's hip moves to his lower back, holding him there as Elijah steps that much closer, slotting their legs together and teasing Alex with the immediate friction.

"How about this?"

Alex chases another kiss instead of answering and is eager for another one after that. "Please."

But while Elijah keeps them pressed together, he does nothing more, allowing Alex to grind against him however much he'd like. It's probably not all that physically different from the night Elijah had pinned him on the couch, but there's none of the frustration now, and Elijah's patient enough to let Alex absorb the sensation of rubbing up against another man's cock, over and over and over. They're both so hard and Alex aches with a desire he's only just getting to know, and when he starts to moan, Elijah helps him get lost in kiss after kiss before he carefully slips away from it to blink down at Alex again.

"I'm not her, and I—I don't mean that as anything good or bad," Elijah murmurs, just enough pressure on Alex's hip to slow him down. "But whatever mistakes you think you made before, I need you to know they won't be the same now. You'll make some—we both will—but this isn't the same."

Alex nods, his head heavy and his mouth still half open against Elijah's. "Is it going to be a mistake to sleep together tonight?"

"To sleep together tonight? Or to sleep together tonight?" Elijah asks with an amused hum. "Because no, it's not going to be a mistake, and nah, it probably wouldn't do irreparable harm, but I'm not convinced we should test that theory."

Something about his tone warms Alex from the inside out, the subtle mix of humor and something so much more serious. Something that has absolutely lit him on fire. "You didn't answer me about whether you need to borrow clothes."

"No, I'm okay," Elijah says, pulling his hoodie over his head before he lays it over the back of a chair Alex keeps in the corner. He strips off his socks and jeans next, and Alex tries not to stare once Elijah's wearing nothing but his t-shirt and a pair of boxers that don't bother to hide his arousal, Alex turning quickly toward his dresser to grab some sweat shorts and a t-shirt of his own.

The next several minutes are a perfectly dizzy kind of awkward, taking turns in the bathroom and crawling into bed and turning off the lights, neither one saying much as they go through a routine they don't share. But then they're facing each other and kissing again, and whatever need Alex thought could wait for another night begins to coil inside him again, and he wants to be even closer to Elijah, doing what he can to rock into him now while his body responds almost instantly. Elijah's does too, and it has both of them groaning into their kiss, and when Elijah reaches for Alex's leg and hooks it over his own thigh, it's so much easier to feel everything.

Alex wants to feel everything.

"Can I touch you?" he pants.

"Jesus, that's—" Elijah just barely manages to laugh as he sucks at Alex's neck. "Did I mix up my answers about which kind of sleeping together we're supposed to do?"

"Is that a no?"

Instead of saying anything out loud, Elijah's hand curves over Alex's ass and their next kiss turns filthy before it slows into something that's anything but. It takes longer than that for Alex to figure out what will happen next, Elijah moving his hand again just so his confident fingers can find their way to where Alex's shake, making enough room between them to lead Alex past the waistband of his boxers. The angle is awkward until Alex can turn his wrist and curl his fingers around Elijah's cock, the sensation of touching another man utterly overwhelming already. And Elijah doesn't leave him alone, guiding his first tentative strokes, their kiss forgotten for a moment while they breathe against each other, and Alex tries to memorize everything Elijah wants him to learn.

There's so much more to absorb when Elijah brings Alex's hand high enough for the pad of his thumb to drag over the head of Elijah's cock, everything so fucking slick there, and easy to spread when they keep moving.

"That's because of you," Elijah says. "You do that to me."

Alex swears under his breath or makes some kind of pitiful noise, and he has so many questions and confessions and pleas, and when he rocks into Elijah again—or rocks against their joined hands as they stroke Elijah's cock—Alex is pretty sure he makes at least one of them heard. Elijah watches him closely when he lets go of Alex's hand and trails a fingertip along the top of his sweat shorts, back and forth until Alex can barely maintain his own rhythm, nodding dumbly at something Elijah has only sort of asked.

"Yes."

Elijah doesn't just slip his hand into Alex's shorts though, working to push them over Alex's ass instead, and careful when he eases his cock free too. And because Alex has all but given up on however he was trying to touch Elijah, he begins to help, sliding his shorts all the way down his legs until he can kick them off entirely, naked from the waist down and nervous and so fucking turned on.

He's probably lucky he doesn't come as soon as Elijah swipes his thumb through the fluid Alex has been leaking for a while, because Elijah does that to him. It's another close call when Elijah lifts that thumb to his own mouth and sucks it clean, slowly withdrawing it before he brushes his lips against Alex's.

"You happen to have any lube nearby?" Elijah smiles. "Might make this a little better for you."

Alex wants to ask what exactly this is, but he also can't quite take his eyes off of Elijah's mouth, curious about whether there's anything left of himself on Elijah's tongue, and after a few more seconds, Alex goes in search of the taste just because he thinks he can. He licks into Elijah's mouth and doesn't pretend there's any reason for it other than his own hunger, and Elijah lets Alex take anything he wants for as long as he wants it. But also, there was a question Alex forgot to answer and he halfway nods and mumbles something even as he tries to keep kissing Elijah while their cocks drip side by side.

"Drawer. Behind me."

Elijah rolls them just enough so he can reach for the nightstand, and his weight pressing Alex into the mattress is already becoming a familiar thing, though it's there and gone once Elijah has what he needs. When they're back to facing each other, Alex throws his leg over Elijah's again and kisses him with abandon and grinds against him for another few seconds, Elijah's boxers still mostly in place except for where his cock is thick and hard and pressed alongside Alex. Even with so little room to work, Elijah is able to get his hand between them, lube covering each of their cocks after a couple of individual strokes, and Alex clings to the back of Elijah's shirt while he moans into his mouth.

"Fuck—that's—fuck," Alex gasps when Elijah opens his hand wide enough to jerk them off together.

Elijah nips just below Alex's jaw and laughs there, only the slightest puff of air giving him away. "Not completely, but it'll be close enough for tonight."

"It's so good. I—god, I didn't know."

"You wanna help, or you just wanna hold on to me?" Alex pulls his head back to look at Elijah, hoping that even the dark room will allow him to be given a clue about how to respond to that as he aches with need, and can feel himself getting wetter, and so badly wants to know if Elijah is too. But then Elijah is brushing the tips of their noses together and Alex can't comprehend how something so tender and playful can be perfectly paired with the vulgar sound Elijah's hand is making as he works them over. "There's not a wrong answer, sweetheart. You can always tell me what you want."

He can still barely talk though, so Alex only moves to release Elijah's shirt and put his hand somewhere near Elijah's instead, closing his eyes when he can feel so much at once—the play of Elijah's muscles as his fingers slide and twist, the veins on their shafts when he can brush up against them, the almost unnoticeable slits threatening to spill more than they already have. And Elijah's panting now too, which makes Alex think something about this is going right, even if it's going to be over all too soon.

"I'm gonna—too much—"

"S'okay. Let go. I'm close too."

Alex has a feeling that's not always true—that Elijah can hold out for a very long time when it's what he wants, a trick likely to make Alex lose his entire goddamn mind—but at least some part of this is new for Elijah too, and if tonight can be this small and special thing, Alex is grateful for it. Their hands speed up together and each breath is a little more of a struggle than the one before and they kiss when they can, except that Alex is so far gone that Elijah might be the only one doing anything at all. When he comes, it's so unlike anything he remembers feeling before, his entire body involved somehow, and the sounds he makes through each aftershock are almost embarrassingly loud in his own head. Alex doesn't want anything about the moment to pass, and in some ways, it doesn't, Elijah stroking himself obscenely with so much more than lube covering him now, and Alex's hand is still right there when Elijah comes all over both of them with the longest, most beautiful moan Alex thinks he's ever heard.

Elijah's shaking, or maybe Alex is, but they're still face to face and neither one of them is looking away, so Alex takes a chance on a smile and watches when Elijah matches it with one of his own.

"That wasn't the same," Alex says quietly, closing his eyes only when he leans into Elijah for an almost chaste kiss.

"Mmmm, no. Wasn't the same for me either," Elijah agrees. Then he bites back a laugh. "Think I might've been wrong about needing to borrow some clothes, though. I'm kind of a mess."

"But you're my mess."

Elijah doesn't bother biting anything back then, his laugh warm against Alex's lips. "Are you always this sappy after an orgasm?"

"Only one way to find out," Alex teases, careful when he uses his own shirt to clean up what he can before he rolls out of bed to help get rid of that and Elijah's clothes, too. His sweat shorts are on the floor nearby, so he puts those back on and pulls an extra pair from his drawer to toss toward Elijah, then he crawls back under the covers, soft and sated and seeing so much of the same on Elijah's face too.

They're both still figuring this out, and there's no chance to process what just happened when Alex has to get up early for work to be as productive as anyone is the week of Thanksgiving, so he only combs his fingers through Elijah's hair and sighs happily when Elijah brings the tips of their noses together again.

"Thank you for letting me stay."

"Thank you for coming back."