Rupert Giles woke to a variety of smells: stale incense and tobacco, hot coffee, a musty old attic type of scent, and what he quickly realised was the potpourri of last night's athletic sex. It was the latter, of course, that reminded him of where he was.

"Morning has broken," said his erstwhile bed partner, naked bar an open shirt and now kneeling by the bed holding two steaming mugs. "Or perhaps just the few remaining springs in those mattresses."

"We did give them a workout last night," Rupert acknowledged as he pulled himself into a sitting position, half-covered by the sheets. "Is that coffee?"

"There was a bit a problem with the tea." The other boy, Ethan, grinned, his eyes twinkling. "In that I could only pocket coffee the last time I went shopping, before I got spotted and had to scarper for it. It's Nescafe, so could be worse."

"S'fine," Rupert muttered as he took one of the mugs. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the steam, that action enough to start shaking the fuzzy cobwebs from his brain. "Thanks."

Ethan slid into a sitting position, leaning against the mattresses. He was sitting very close to Rupert's legs, not quite touching, and gazing up at him, a half-smile on his lips. "Sleep well?"

"In spite of the condition of the mattress springs." Rupert took a sip of his coffee and studied the other boy.

Ethan's face was clean of the glitter and make up from the night before, but Rupert noticed fresh black eyeliner, at the very least, had been applied since. Ethan looked younger in the morning light. There was an air of vulnerability that hadn't been apparent the night before. In some ways, it made him seem more fey and otherworldly than he had in the club; certainly he didn't seem to fit these dismal surroundings that looked even shabbier and more dilapidated in the harsh light of day.

Ethan's gaze kept moving down Rupert's body only to be dragged back up to his face again. "You look..." He stopped, momentarily hesitant, but then a very deliberate leer appeared on his face. "Lickable."

All right, perhaps vulnerable was the wrong word, Rupert thought, as the look being directed his way was definitely predatory, and so his body informed him, very intriguing.

"Didn't you get enough last night?" Rupert asked, even as he shifted in such a way as to make the blanket fall lower on his hips.

"Oh," Ethan said, his gaze fixed to the area where Rupert's nakedness met the covering. "I don't think 'enough' is at all applicable here." His arm, which was obscured from Rupert, twitched and the blanket jerked lower still.

"I'm getting the feeling that I'm on the breakfast menu."

"Would you rather a plate of eggs and bacon? I could probably rustle up something that looked a little like them." The blanket inched further still, then dropped to Rupert's legs. "I know what I fancy."

Rupert considered Ethan and what was being offered for a long moment. The memories from the night before were enough to tip the balance, and he quickly finished his coffee and put his mug aside. Then he just looked at Ethan expectantly.

Ethan put his untouched mug of coffee down and slid sinuously up onto the mattresses beside Rupert. The weight of both of them together made a substantial valley and pushed them into each other. Ethan licked his lips, looking at Rupert's, but instead of moving forward for a kiss, he raised a finger to trace Rupert's mouth.

Rupert smiled slightly, watching Ethan's eyes. "What?" he asked softly.

Ethan's smile was almost coy. "It's not for me to take; it's for you to give."

There was something about the words that seemed to resonate inside Rupert, and he found himself shaking his head in denial before he could stop. Speaking from a place within him that seemed to recognise both the words and this boy, Rupert countered with, "It's for both of us to give."

Ethan frowned a little, but then laughed. "All right," he agreed. "You first."

That broke whatever the strange moment was, and Rupert grinned as he leant in to kiss the other boy. "If you insist."

***

"You sure you don't want to do this in the living room?" Rupert asked, looking at the grey sky above them.

"That depends on whether you actually want to get anything done today or not," Ethan answered with a smirk, although privately, he did indeed wonder if they were getting too old to stand out in the chill like this.

It was bloody cold. December started tomorrow, but the wintry weather had been with them two days already, with cloudless sunny days, made icy by a blustery northwester, and nights of heavy frost.

Ethan and Rupert were in their back garden, cloaked from prying eyes from neighbours' houses by some special Council wards modified by Ethan and charged up by Rupert. They were out here, wrapped up in woollen garb and their Barbour coats, to practice merging their magics; they were significantly behind with the exercises set to them by their mentors because every time they tried...

Well, they had a tendency to get quickly distracted.

"All it takes is a bit of willpower," Rupert muttered, although even he didn't sound completely convinced.

"Perhaps you can buy that in cans?" Ethan giggled and moved closer to Rupert as he pulled one of his gloves off. "So, I believe we never finished the rose."

Rupert mirrored his action, holding his hand out for Ethan to take. "Because someone decided he would rather jump me."

"Au contraire, mon cher. I was the jumpee on that occasion. I remember it as if it were yesterday." Ethan grinned and took Rupert's hand. They were facing each other and standing close.

"Perhaps because it was yesterday?" Rupert asked as their fingers entwined, and he let his magic flow through their touch.

Ethan drew cold air into his lungs as he reacted to the feel of Rupert's magic, and he tried very hard not to think about Rupert's lips and how nice they would be to kiss out here while their bodies were swathed in so much thick material. There would be something both romantic and erotic about the act. Something almost Film Noir... and he really did need to be concentrating on the exercise.

Sighing, he let his own magic surge out to build the basic glowing framework of a rose to the side of them.

"Oh yes, I can see how this is going to make resisting so much easier," Rupert teased, fine-tuning the magic flow that provided the power for the framework Ethan was building.

"What did I do?" Ethan asked, confused. "Are you reading my thoughts? If you're reading my thoughts we're doomed from the start."

Rupert chuckled, the sound warm and textured against Ethan's ears. "Not your thoughts, just your face. I've been quite familiar with that particular expression of yours for decades."

"Oh." Ethan grinned. "Well, they were very nice thoughts." The framework, which was little more than a three-dimensional sketch, was complete.

"I'm sure they were, love. They always are, which is part of the reason we've been having so many problems finishing this exercise." As he spoke, Rupert carefully and deftly shaped their combined magic into a petal along the outside of the soon to be rose sculpture. "Your turn."

"I was only thinking about kissing. That's quite innocent, isn't it?" Ethan shaped another petal, one edge folded under Rupert's. "Just my lips to your lips, our breath escaping in little misty clouds, our mouths impossibly hot when the air on our faces is so cold..."

Rupert leant a little bit closer before catching himself and pulling back. "Yes, I can't imagine how that could possibly get us into trouble."

Ethan gave him a long and sultry look, but just said, "Your turn," his own petal done.

"You're going to have to stop looking at me like that." Rupert added another petal overlapping Ethan's.

"Like what precisely?" Ethan asked, not at all innocently, now gazing at the rose that they were making. Feeling Rupert shape their mingled magic was undeniably erotic. The careful, almost pedantic touch of Rupert's –everything had to be just so– that was just how he was during their lovemaking, and it made Ethan's breathing get a little bit deeper, a little bit faster.

And the look Rupert sent him then did nothing to cool him down. With half-lidded eyes and the faintest traces of a smile, it was an invitation for all sorts of wickedness. "That look."

Ethan started the next petal. His free hand absently loosened the scarf around his neck as he was starting to feel slightly over-warm. "Ah. That one." Ethan leant towards Rupert, his petal still half-finished. "Dearheart..."

"Yes?" Rupert's eyes focused on Ethan's mouth.

Ethan lifted his still-gloved hand to trace Rupert's face. "One kiss. One kiss couldn't hurt, could it?"

Rupert's lips curled up slightly at the corners. "I very much fear that those could be considered famous last words." Nonetheless, he leant in close enough that Ethan could feel his breath against his face.

Ethan couldn't not close the gap. He pressed his lips to Rupert's, absently finishing the petal as his concentration moved to the kiss, the sensations every bit as wonderful as he'd imagined. Rupert's free hand came up and slid behind Ethan's head, holding him in place as the kiss deepened. For a moment anyway.

Then Rupert firmly but reluctantly pulled back. "It's getting quite warm out here, isn't it?"

Ethan pouted, then smiled slyly as Rupert's words registered. He lifted his free hand to help divest Rupert of some extraneous clothing. "You just make your petal. Let me do this."

He felt Rupert turn his attention to constructing the next petal, although it took the man twice as long as the ones before.

"That's wonky," Ethan pointed out, completely untruthfully. "That's not at all up to your usual standard." He had opened Rupert's scarf and the top flap of the Barbour and was now slowly unzipping the waxed coat.

Rupert leant in and kissed Ethan again, making quite a thorough job of it, enough to steal Ethan's breath. "Your turn," he said with a smug smile when he pulled back.

"All right," Ethan agreed happily and moved in to kiss Rupert again.

Laughing, Rupert moved back, keeping the same distance between them. "On the rose, I meant."

Pouting once more, Ethan made another petal, but he was barely looking at the rose. He was running his gloved hand over the front of Rupert's coat. "Do you know what these Barbours always make me think about?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Rupert murmured as he reached out and created another petal that half-covered Ethan's. "What do they make you think about?"

"That day on the cliff top in the storm. What happened, what we then did..."

He watched Rupert's eyes darken with pleasure at the memory. "You were magnificent."

"I felt like I could fly," Ethan remembered, his hand slipping inside Rupert's opened coat and under the thick sweater beneath it. "And then we shared magic for the first time. Really shared it, I mean – no Chaos making everything taste bitter. Just pure us for the first time, and you took me on the grass as our magics blended almost seamlessly, and... oh sod it, Rupert, we've done enough practising for today, haven't we?"

"We've barely started," Rupert protested, but it was a very weak protest.

Ethan deliberately let his magic travel further up Rupert's arm and stepped closer. Bugger the rose. Or rather, bugger something else altogether. "I need you," he said intensely, locking gazes with Rupert.

Rupert groaned as he gave in, pulling Ethan flush against him and devouring his mouth.

They had far too many clothes on. Their bare hands were still clasped, but the hand Ethan had under Rupert's sweater was gloved, and that would never do. Ethan pushed himself against Rupert and moaned, the noise more a complaint than anything else.

"Doing this outside in the cold was your idea," Rupert reminded him, chuckling as he pulled back enough to work on unbuttoning, unzipping and pushing material aside.

There seemed to be a mutual agreement not to separate their clasped hands, which made actually stripping impossible. "Are you going to keep us warm?" Ethan asked, between attempts to kiss whatever parts of Rupert he could reach. "Or are we going inside?"

Rupert seemed to think about it for a long moment as he continued to try to get down to Ethan's skin. "Yes?" he finally ventured.

Well, if Rupert, the brain of the pair, was that far gone, there was no way Ethan wanted to be left behind. He lifted his gloved hand to his mouth, biting the material between his teeth and pulling the glove off. He let it drop to the ground. The air was immediately bitter on his hand, as it was on his belly where Rupert had successfully reached his objective.

"Let there be heat, dearheart," he said and pressed his bared hand onto the front of Rupert's trousers.

Growling and taking Ethan's mouth in a hard kiss once again, Rupert propelled Ethan backwards until his back was flush against the door back inside. Once he had Ethan pinned there, he ground his hips against him, trapping Ethan's hand between their bodies.

God, when Rupert was like this, Ethan lost all common sense, not that he exactly had a lot in the first place. But it made him so hard to be manhandled by Rupert, to be pushed and pulled and, well, the illusion of forced. He submitted joyfully to the assault on his mouth and struggled with his trapped hand to open Rupert's fly.

Rupert finally pulled back slightly with muffled laughter. "Far too many clothes. This isn't working." With his free hand, he fumbled for the door latch, opening it and suddenly depriving Ethan of the surface he had been leaning against.

"Fu–" was all Ethan managed to get out before he landed hard on his arse in the study. He scowled up at Rupert. "I hope you're going to kiss it better."

Rupert just smiled down at him as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The heating was on high, and the air in the room was very warm compared to outside. "Get undressed, and we'll see," he said, already stripping off his own gloves and coat.

Requiring no further instruction, Ethan struggled to his knees and out of his coat. His jumper and shirt quickly followed. He stared at Rupert the whole time. "I need you," he said again.

Rupert had matched Ethan in his disrobing, getting rid of garment after garment. "I need you naked," he replied, toeing off his shoes and undoing his trousers.

Ethan undid his belt and his trousers, but then he paused, stopped by the sight of Rupert in front of him, naked bar his socks and very hard. "Oh," Ethan said quietly, his head tipped slightly to one side. He moistened his lips and stared.

"See something you like?" Rupert asked with a wolfish smile.

Ethan's gaze flickered between Rupert's face and the strong cock in front of him. "Yes, please," he said a little breathlessly. "Use me, Ripper. Take what you want." Magic words, almost ritual; he'd said them so many times before.

"I want you." Rupert crooked one finger, beckoning Ethan closer.

He shuffled forward clumsily on his knees, shackled as they were by his trousers, which had fallen as far down as they could. "You've got me."

Rupert reached out and brushed fingers sparking with his magic through Ethan's hair. "I know."

Shivering under the touch, Ethan pushed up into it. He was breathing heavily, wanting badly, but he made himself wait for Ripper to take or to instruct.

Rupert's hand slid down, fingers tracing over Ethan's features, lingering on his lips. "God, I love your mouth." Not able to help himself, Ethan sucked the fingers in. He ran his tongue over them, tasting the magic. "Want to use it somewhere else?" Rupert asked.

The fingers still deep in his mouth, Ethan nodded slightly.

Rupert smiled and pulled his hand back. "All right then. I'm sure I can trust to your initiative," Rupert told him, looking at him expectantly.

That was instruction enough. Ethan raised his hands, placed them flat onto Rupert's chest, one over each nipple, and dragged them down Rupert's body, trailing magic behind them. When they reached his hips, Ethan held them. As he always did, he then shut his eyes and pressed his closed lips to the tip of Rupert's cock.

"Love you," Rupert murmured; Ethan could feel his gaze on him.

He inhaled through his nose, relishing Rupert's musky scent, and then opened his lips. Licking them, letting a slight buzz of magic fill them, Ethan then welcomed the taut head of Rupert's cock through onto his tongue.

"Yes." The word came out on a soft breath as Rupert's hand once again fell to rest on Ethan's hair.

Ethan worked his way down the shaft, slicking with spit and magic, before returning to concentrate on the head. He sucked and worked with his tongue, enjoying the activity almost as much as if it were being done to him, more in certain ways.

He felt Rupert's fingers tighten on his head, magic coming out to entwine with his. "God, what you do with your mouth," Rupert groaned, "should be illegal."

Ethan glanced up, met Rupert's eyes, and grinned around his mouthful. Keeping Rupert's gaze, Ethan let power run from his tongue, filling his husband's cock and surging further, deeper, pulsing and shimmering. And then, as Rupert was still reeling from that, Ethan started to move up and down on the shaft, taking it deeper each time until he was deep-throating.

Rupert swore, and his other hand came up. He gripped Ethan's head, guiding his movements, which was exactly what Ethan had wanted; it felt so good.

Letting himself relax, Ethan allowed Rupert to do as he wished, providing suction, a firm pillow of active tongue, and a subtle edge of tooth as required. This was one of his favourite things, having Rupert use his mouth, and it entranced him every time. Something about timing his breaths, his licks and his swallows, responding to changes in Rupert's rhythm almost before he made them; it was complex ritual, and he loved it.

Rupert was breathing harshly as he took Ethan's mouth over and over, and there were words muttered in amongst those gasps for air, things like "good" and "love" and "don't stop."

Ethan groaned low in his throat, and almost despite himself, found one of his hands straying to his own cock, pulling it from his boxers and groaning again at the touch of his hand. He looked up at Rupert, not quite asking permission as he was doing it anyway, but wanting to check that there was no frown.

There was no frown; on the contrary, the heated gaze that met his when he looked up seemed to suggest Ethan was doing something very, very right. And if he still wasn't sure, the pulse of Rupert's magic that went through his entire body in a pleasurable surge laid to rest any doubts.

Ethan was so very turned on; he wanted to swear or move, but he couldn't really do either. So he made do with noises, groans and whimpers, with which he tried to vibrate his throat as much as possible to add to Rupert's experience. He pulled on his own cock with unthinking violence, all his subtlety saved for his mouth.

Rupert groaned loudly, his movements becoming more forceful and desperate, and less concerned about his level of roughness. God, Ethan found this so exhilarating.

Impulsively, Ethan lifted his free hand from Rupert's hip and brought it to his own head, clasping it over the top of one of Rupert's hands and inter-linking their fingers as much as he could. He let the hands fill with magic, mixing his with Rupert's as they had outside.

That sent the awareness of one another's pleasure sky rocketing and sent Rupert over the edge into his climax. The salty warmth filling his mouth was more than enough to ensure Ethan quickly followed. Their combined magic ebbed and flowed along with the peak of their pleasure, finally settling down to its usual constant.

Rupert pulled back enough to sink down to the floor beside Ethan, who himself had slid into a sitting position. Their hands twisted together, finding a new arrangement, but remaining clasped.

After flexing and rotating his jaw for a few seconds, easing tight muscles, Ethan moved closer and stole a soft kiss. "There now. Wasn't that better than a pointless exercise?" His voice was ever so slightly hoarse, a fact which made him smile with smug pleasure.

"It was good," Rupert said, moving to lie on his back and pulling Ethan against him. "It always is, but it's not getting us much further with our training."

Snuggling close, Ethan sighed, playing his fingers of his free hand over Rupert's chest. "I really do think the exercises may be pointless, dearheart. Lucy and Ian are doing their best, but they're guessing. They have to be. We're the first couple to get this far in living memory, if not some considerable time before."

Rupert frowned. "Still... without training and practice..."

"We've never practised the telepathy," Ethan pointed out. "But it's there whenever we need it."

"But this is different." Rupert looked suddenly uncertain. "Isn't it?"

Ethan frowned, thinking it over, and then rolled onto his back beside Rupert, lifting their linked hands between them. "Let's see, shall we? Let's make a rose. None of this one petal at a time business, just think 'rose'." And with his mind, he added, 'Think it with me.'

Still frowning, Rupert reached out with his magic and did as Ethan had bid; Ethan could feel Rupert's thought as clearly as his own.

Ethan didn't know if it was because they were now so in tune with each other that they individually thought of the same rose, or because they were, somehow, actually thinking together, as if with one mind. But somehow a perfect rose of magic flickered into existence above them, almost like a neon light had just switched on.

Rupert stared upwards at it. "Not bad."

"Agreed, not bad. More like sodding good." Ethan knew Rupert had to be more impressed than he was letting on.

"Of course, we've been trying to build that damn rose for days now, so it would make sense that we could skip all the steps on it by now."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Let's make something else then. A galleon maybe, with all the sails and rigging. Will that satisfy the exacting standards of the Head of the Council?"

But Rupert was still frowning. "It just seems too easy."

"Not easy," Ethan corrected, feeling increasingly certain. "Natural." He rolled to his side again. "This is us, Rupert. This is what we are together. Neither of us could do that apart, not without the necessary rote or conscious manipulation. But when we're together, it's our nature."

"But still," Rupert protested, "just because it is, doesn't mean we shouldn't have to work at it. Even Slayers have to train and practise."

"Every time we have sex and share magic doing it, we're practising. All we need to work on is strengthening the bond still further; everything else will come naturally." Ethan frowned. "Poor Rupert." He leant over and kissed his husband softly. "This is hard for you, isn't it?"

"The fact that it doesn't seem to be hard at all is what's making it hard," Rupert admitted wryly, pulling Ethan closer.

"No rules to learn and follow by rote," Ethan agreed sympathetically. "No logical path to follow. This is so much more my thing than yours." He kissed Rupert again. "Will you let me help?"

The corners of Rupert's eyes crinkled as he smiled in amusement. "What did you have in mind, love?"

"Well..." Ethan thought about it seriously for a moment or two, but then grinned. "I've always been rather good at bypassing your need for structure, haven't I? All it takes is the right sort of distraction." He trailed a single finger over Rupert's right nipple, releasing a short sharp shock of magic at the appropriate moment.

Rupert gasped softly. "So you're just going to keep me in a state of perpetual arousal?"

"Or otherwise distracted by my masculine wiles." Ethan's charged finger moved downward, played under the ridge of Rupert's ribs and circumnavigated the nasty scar on his flank. "They say all sorts of things are easy if the anxious intellect can be made to look in the other direction."

"Is that what they say?" Rupert asked, his voice becoming deeper and huskier as he reacted to Ethan's touch.

"Haven't you always found it to be so?" Ethan rose to his knees and straddled Rupert, deciding he wanted to do this exploration that he'd started more thoroughly.

"Depends on what it is you're trying to do." Rupert remained passive, letting Ethan do what he would.

To start with, Ethan used the fingers of both hands to trace Rupert's face, the magic in his fingertips little more than a tingle. "Ride a bike, ice skate, drive a car, use a keyboard, dance: all things that go more smoothly if the mind doesn't interfere with the body." He followed the line of Rupert's eye sockets, the bridge of his nose, his hairline and his jawbone, and the slight hollows of his cheeks. "Art too, even putting on make up. Fastest way to a wrecked canvas is by letting the intellect have a say."

"All those things require training to learn to do them in the first place," Rupert pointed out, although he'd closed his eyes and seemed to be melting under Ethan's attentions.

"Not all of them," Ethan argued, as his fingers followed the contours of Rupert's ears and then over his neck, finding and travelling each muscle, prominent vein, and tendon. "No one ever taught me how to dance, for instance. Did anyone ever teach you to sing?"

Rupert tilted his head back, giving Ethan better access. "Not officially," he allowed.

"What does that mean?" Ethan drew circles around Rupert's Adam's apple and dipped into the hollow above his collar bone. He badly wanted to bend and kiss all these places that he was touching with his fingers, and so he did. This exercise was about following one's instincts, after all.

"There's a lot that can be learnt listening to others sing, plus there was some training in breathing and phrasing when I was in choir at public school." Rupert had raised a hand, and his fingers skimmed lightly through Ethan's hair as he spoke.

"And do you use the formal training when you sing now? Or do you just sing the way some instinct tells you would be best?" Ethan kissed and licked around Rupert's neck now, dipping his tongue into the hollows and nibbling very gently over the pulse point.

"I...uh..." Rupert seemed to be losing his train of thought. "I've internalised what I've learnt, with training and practise."

"Of course you have." There was mild sarcasm in Ethan's tone. He moved his attention down, following Rupert's collarbone to his closest shoulder. "Dearheart?"

"Yes?"

"Who taught you how to fuck?"

"What?" Rupert asked, laughter in his voice.

Ethan nibbled into the muscles of Rupert's shoulder, hard enough to be felt but not quite painful. In between bites, he said, "You are, my dear, somewhat talented in that area. And always have been. So... who taught you?"

"I... Do you really want to know?" Rupert sounded more serious than Ethan had expected in response to that question.

Ethan froze in place, his face averted from Rupert. "Someone really taught you? I thought..." He felt a ridiculous sinking sensation inside him; how idiotic to feel such acute jealousy about something so long ago. "Well, my attempt to prove a point seems to have backfired." He tried to keep his voice dryly amused rather than upset, but he knew Rupert would know anyway.

Rupert brushed his fingers against Ethan's cheek. "It was when I was still at school and still being the dutiful son and proper student," he said softly, as if sharing a confidence. "Kieran was a year ahead of me and exactly the opposite. In some ways, he was a lot like you, always leading me astray."

Ethan felt physically sick, and his awareness of what a stupid git he was being didn't help. He had, of course, known he wasn't the first. But he was meant to be the first that had mattered. There shouldn't have been anyone before him who Rupert could still remember the name of now, yet alone speak of with something approaching fondness and compare to Ethan.

He wriggled off Rupert and sat up, his back to his husband, and said nothing.

Rupert continued talking in the same soft, reflective voice. "I've always been quite grateful to him; if not for my time with Kieran, I'd never had had the courage to start going to the clubs, which is where I met you." He moved, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Ethan's waist and pressing his chest to Ethan's back. "But Kieran was never any more than a friend who I occasionally played some naked games with. We went our separate ways with no regrets and no yearning. But you," he murmured directly into Ethan's ear, "from the start, got yourself into my soul so far that there's never been a chance of getting you back out."

Which was, of course, the perfect thing to say, and that made Ethan even more annoyed with himself as the jealousy was still there, still eating at his insides, where it had no right to be. He made a small noise and wrapped his own arms firmly over Rupert's, as if trying to get held more tightly.

"I'm afraid, love, you're just going to have to accept that I've done very little if anything in my life without preparation beforehand." Rupert nuzzled Ethan's ear. "Except, perhaps, for falling in love."

Ethan didn't care about the point he'd been trying to make anymore, but he couldn't open his mouth to try to tell Rupert that as he knew all that would come out would be inadvisable questions such as: what had Kieran looked like? What exactly had he taught Rupert? Had they kept in touch at all? Would Rupert mind if Ethan committed a very small murder?

He'd always been like this about Rupert's other lovers, of course, but previous to them getting back together, it had been easy to hide the jealousy under cruelty and jaded wit. And nowadays, he could talk about those he'd long known about –Jenny, to name the most important– and actually feel warmth towards her for giving Rupert some small amount of happiness along the way.

But this, somehow, was different.

"I seem to be feeling a trifle sick," he said, which was true enough, and he tried to struggle out of Rupert's arms in order to stand up.

Rupert, however, refused to let him go. "Talk to me, Ethan."

"Really, Rupert. Encouraging me to talk at this moment is far from a sterling idea."

"It's better than sitting here and letting you swallow down whatever you're feeling to the point of making yourself ill," Rupert pointed out.

He made one more half-hearted attempt to escape and then gave in, slumping back against Rupert. "I'm an old fool."

"If you think you can hide from me, then yes, you are." Rupert nuzzled into the curve of Ethan's neck where it met his shoulder. "You don't have to, you know. Hide."

Ethan stared down at Rupert's arms around him and stopped fighting the feelings inside him. "I am overjoyed," he said, wishing he didn't feel quite so self-aware, "to discover that someone broke you in. Someone you still remember now. Tell me, do you still exchange Christmas cards? Reminisce occasionally about that day he taught you to enjoy rimming?"

"I haven't had any contact with Kieran since I left for university and he went abroad. Going to shag his way across Europe, he said." Rupert's voice was calm and matter of fact as he answered the questions. "No cards, Christmas or otherwise, have been exchanged. I was a complete wally before Kieran 'broke me in'. You wouldn't have looked twice at me back then, not in a lecherous way at least."

Ethan had to laugh at that. "You've no bloody idea, have you? You could have been dressed as Chico the sodding Clown, and I would still have recognised you for who you were." Ethan was getting cold, despite the central heating. There was a noise coming from behind the living room door that he sincerely hoped was Gwydion and not Megan home early from her training.

"I fear I was more of a wally than even Chico the Clown," Rupert said with wry self-humour, even as he tightened his embrace.

Ethan wriggled and squirmed in Rupert's arms until he was facing him. Cupping Rupert's face in his hands, he said, "It was you I was looking for, not some fashion accessory, or even just a nice bloke to look after me. You. Do you understand?" It was excessively important suddenly that Rupert did understand. "I didn't even really notice what you looked like the first time I clasped eyes on you. I just saw you laugh at something and half-died on the dance floor. Because it was you."

He saw wonder flash through Rupert's eyes as his words sunk in. "You must have thought me exceedingly slow, considering how long it took me to realise how... essential you are to me."

Ethan smiled weakly. "I think that takes us full circle to knowing and trusting one's instincts again."

Rupert smiled back and leant in for a kiss. "Would it help if I say I'm sorry you didn't get to completely corrupt me from scratch?"

"You never told me about him," Ethan said sulkily, but then had to laugh darkly at himself. "Probably because you knew how I'd react." He sighed. "Will I ever feel secure in your continued presence, do you think?"

"I don't know." Rupert sighed too and leant in, resting his forehead against Ethan's. "Maybe you'll manage around the same time I manage to feel completely secure in yours."

The jealously was quietened for now, but there was still an uncomfortable angsty feeling inside of Ethan. He hugged Rupert as tightly as he could. "However close we get..."

"It can never be close enough," Rupert murmured, his breath soft and warm against Ethan's lips as he moved to kiss him. "But this is a good start."