“Now we cut it in half and scoop out the core.”  He used a melon baller, a trick he’d learned in a restaurant kitchen once, to remove the core.  

“Show me again?” Joseph asked once the apple was sliced.

“You show me.”  He handed Joseph the knife, wrapping his hand over his lover’s and resting his chin on Joseph’s shoulder.  Together they moved slowly, their combined fingers getting sticky from the apple juice.  They got even sticker when Joseph mixed together the sugar, spices, and flour with the apple slices by hand.

“Don’t move a muscle.”  Graham pinched together the crust around the rim of the pie.  It wasn’t the fancy lattice his sister would probably do but it was good enough to get the pie in the oven.  The timer was set, giving them almost an hour before they needed to check on it.  He caught Joselg turning on the faucet.  “What did I say about not moving?”

“I was just going to wash my hands.”  He held them up, palms facing out.  It looked like he was surrendering.

“Just what I didn’t want you to do.”  He could see that Joseph was about to ask why; it amazed him sometimes how unaware of things his boyfriend was.  He still didn’t understand how attractive he was, how much his actions could be a seduction, the inherent eroticism of sticky sweet fingers.  Graham drew one into his mouth.  “I wanted to do it for you.”

“Oh.”  It was almost comical, how quickly Joseph went from being confused to understanding.  

“Pie’s gonna take an hour, love.  Do you have anything to do before it’s done?”  Nat was at work and he didn’t have to be anywhere for hours yet.  He kept hold of Joseph’s wrist and switched his attention to the thumb, drawing it into his mouth slowly, teasing the tip before using suction.

“I should clean up.”  There was flour and apple on the counter and dishes in the sink.

“Later.”  He used the hand holding onto Joseph to pull him from the kitchen towards their bedroom, pausing long enough to grab the bowl the apples had been in.  Joseph looked at it quizzically, but didn’t ask.  “Works out nicely that I haven’t made the bed yet.”

“I want to taste your fingers too.”  Joseph’s face flushed; nine months since they've resumed their sexual relationship and he was still bashful about expressing his desire.  His cheeks were almost the same color as the pink jersey he wore; no longer confined to the black garments of a priest Joseph had learned to wear colors.  Nat had been more than willing to influence his wardrobe. Graham tossed the empty bowl on the bed.

“You only ever have to ask.”  He held out his hand, and wished he’d taken a moment to back up against the wall because when Joseph licked his palm he felt weak in the knees.  It was the sight of Joseph’s pleasure as much as the warm mouth that had him swearing.  “Fuck.”

“You taste good, but you always do.”  The flat of Joseph’s tong rested against his pulse.  

“Want to taste you everywhere.  Bed,” he pleaded, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing down his flannel pajama bottoms.  He hadn’t bothered to put on any pants..  Unlike Joseph who dressed first thing in the morning in trousers and shirts even if he wasn’t leaving the flat, Graham pulled on just enough clothing that he wasn’t wandering naked.  Unless, of course, it was to his advantage to wander naked; sometimes Joseph needed very blatant signs.  “Jersey off first.”  

“We’ll get the sheets sticky,”  Joseph paused for just a moment, looking at his hands.

“Washing sticky sheets is my favorite chore.  It means we had a lot of fun first.”  Graham laughed and gently pushed his lover onto the bed.  He knelt next to him, resting one hand on the now naked belly just above the snap of his trousers.  He reached for the bowl, tilting it sideways, allowing the scant spoonfuls of apple syrup and spices to splash onto Joseph’s stomach.  From the corner of his eye he could see his love flinch slightly.  “Cold?”

Joseph shook his head.  “I just realized what you were planning.”

“You mean this?”  He lowered his head, lapping at a pool of apple juices, catching a drop as it rolled down on side.  Joseph’s belly was soft and rounded, what some men might bemoan as a middle age spread but Graham celebrated as a sign of health.  No longer could he count his lover’s ribs; every time Joseph had to loosen his belt it felt like a victory.

“Or this?”  His licks moved higher up, chasing the taste of cinnamon and sweetness to Joseph’s clavicle.  He waited until he was sucking on Joseph’s earlobe before undoing his love’s trouser button.  “Still worried about things getting sticky?”

“Please, Graham.”  Joseph’s hips jutted up when Graham stroked him through his pants.  Graham chuckled and kissed his love.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”  There was nothing Graham had ever found that was as erotic as his love finding the words to ask for what he wanted.

“I want to feel you.”  he wiggled his hips, trying to shift his pants down and free himself from the trousers.

“I’m right here.”  There wasn’t much juice left in the bowl but Graham wiped the inside with two fingers and painted Joseph’s lower lip, not allowing it to remain long before licking it away.

“Inside me.  Please, I want to feel you inside.”  Hands so much stronger and more steady than they’d been a year ago pulled at his hips, close enough that his tip rubbed against Joseph’s trousers.

“Let’s get these off you.”  He crawled to the end of the bed to tug off the last bits of clothing and rolled over to the side of the bed to reach for his bedside drawer.  The box of condoms he kept there wasn’t small, and it was well used.  The lube was getting low; they’d need to pick up some more soon.  Perhaps it was time to introduce his love to a sex shop.  When he looked back at Joseph he’d rolled to his side, a blatant invitation he was glad to accept.

“You smell like apples.”  He buried his nose in the crook between neck and shoulder when he tucked himself behind Joseph, teasing his love with lube to make sure he was ready.

“I’d rather smell like you.  I do, sometimes, after making love to you.  I can smell you on my skin.”  Joseph rolled his head as far as he could to see the man behind him.  Graham growled low in his throat.  Fuck, but the man was erotically honest.  He didn’t need to see the look in Joseph’s eyes to know that he spoke with sincerity.  He couldn’t wait longer and pressed into his lover.  If joseph wanted to smell like him he’d do his damndest to make it happen.

“Sticky,” was the first thing he said after, teasing about the state of their sheets.  They would definitely need to do laundry.

“Might need another shower,”  Joseph murmured, tugging Graham’s hand so his arm wrapped around his waist.

“I thought you wanted to smell like me,” he mock pouted.

“Company for dinner.”  Joseph sounded sleepy; Graham glanced at the clock and figured they had fifteen minutes or so before needing to check on the pie.  They could take a short nap.

“Company?”  He didn’t remember anything about people coming over.

“Nat’s bringing her bloke for dinner.  That’s why I attempted a pie.”  Joseph twined their fingers together.  “Take a deep breath, sweetheart.  It’s just dinner.”

“It’s a meet the family dinner.  She’s bringing him home and we’re having dinner and I was tricked into helping.”  He tried to sit up, but Joseph leaned back into him, pinning him into place.  It wasn’t fair, Nat wasn’t even home and his sister and boyfriend were ganging up on him.  Family dinner meant she was serious about the guy.  “I’m not ready for this, Joe.”

“He makes her happy, and you want her to be happy, don’t you?”  Joseph rolled over so they were facing each other.  “I can vouch firsthand how much  it can change your life for the better to be loved by a member of the Hughes family.”

“You aren’t fighting fair,” Graham pouted.  Damn it, Joseph would choose to get sentimental on him.  “Loving you changed my life too.”

“For the better?”  There was just a hint of uncertainty in Joseph’s voice.

“How can you possibly doubt that?”  He did his best to kiss any doubts away.

“Nat deserves the same chance, love.”  Their foreheads were pressed together.  Graham could smell their scents mingled together.  He sighed.

“I’m sure someone around here would be glad of your help.  They might even ask for a false promise or two.”  He hadn’t given much thought to God, not since he’d been a teenager and listened each Sunday to the reasons he was going to hell.  And then Joseph had come into his life, and even if he hadn’t believed he could see the good in faith.  But God either betrayed those that loved him or he just didn’t give a damn.  “We don’t need you.”

“Not his fault.”  Joseph licked his lips, trying to do more than whisper.

It was a beautiful sound.

“It’s about time.” Graham watched as his love’s eyelids fluttered, opening slowly.  He could have collapsed in relief except he needed to touch Joe, to make sure he was really awake.  He forgot about the other man hovering just inside the room when he leaned over the bed, cradling Joseph’s cheek in one had.  “Not even Sleeping Beauty was out for this long.”

“How...”

“Let me get you some water, sweetheart.  It will help.”  Graham poured a glass half full, adding a straw, and pushed the button to raise the head of the bed.  “It’s been almost a day.”

“I’m sorry.”  The skin between Joseph’s eyebrows was wrinkled as he frowned.  Graham wanted to kiss the dry skin and make it go away.  

“I’ll come back later,” the priest said after an obviously faked cough.

“You don’t need to.”  Graham didn’t bother to turn around.  Joseph was all that mattered.

“Please.”  it took Joseph a moment to turn his head.  Graham didn’t know how to shield him from the things the man might say.  Too many ‘Christians’ had already condemned them for their love.  But he nodded.

“Later,” he agreed reluctantly.  It was a relief when the man in black was gone and they were alone again. 

“He’s a good man, Graham.  We’ve talked before and he’s listened to my confession.”  Joseph took small careful sips from the straw.  Not enough, as he pushed the cup away before he’d drunk more than half of it, but it was something.

“You have nothing to confess.”  Joseph was the best person he knew, but it wasn’t that.  He knew the fear of dying without being forgiven, and the idea of Joseph being ready to die was a fear that he’d inhaled with every breath the last day.  If he’d been home any later the night before, or if hospital had been any farther away it might have been too late.

“He was right, wasn’t he, about you not eating.  Or sleeping.”  Joseph moved his hand a little, brushing Graham’s thigh.  He did not have the strength to lift it any farther.

“I don’t need food, Joe.  I need you.”  Only the doctor’s presence had kept him from holding Joe’s hand from the moment they arrived at the hospital, as if his hold alone could keep Joseph tethered to him.

“You need to take care of yourself, no matter what.  If...”

“I should get the nurse, let her know that you’re awake.”  He couldn’t listen to whatever it was his lover was about to say.

“I worry about you.”  Joseph’s eyes were so serious, even as he fought to keep them open.

“That’s my job.  You have enough to do.”  He kissed Joseph’s lips lightly, and made a mental note to find the chapstick he habitually carried.  “You just need to focus on healing.  The sooner you feel better the sooner we can get out of here, and I can share a bed with you.  I don’t sleep well unless you’re next to me.”

“Me neither.”  Joe attempted to move over on the cramped hospital bed.  “Lie down, love.  It’s my turn to stay awake.”

“How about we both stay awake for a bit.  And when the priest comes back I’ll go and get something to eat.”  He took no comfort from having a priest around, but Joseph did. That was what mattered.  Joseph didn’t need any more stress.

“No one ever cared about the ‘who’ just the ‘what gender’ of my dates.” Graham sighed.  “I know.  I just worry.”

“Our girl is smart and she’s a good judge of character.  We have to trust her okay?”  Joseph was slower to judge, but if he was honest with himself he was no less worried.  it was the first time he’d ever seen Nat interested in someone.  She talked about Adam differently than she had anyone else she’d dated.

“I trust her completely.  Him, not so much.  And if he hurts her you might need to have bail money ready.”

“If he hurts Nat I might be sitting next to you in that cell.”  He was starting to put on weight, but the image of Joseph beating up anyone was enough to make Graham snort with laughter, just as Joseph had intended.  “Are those flowers on the table, love?  What’s the occasion?”

“Really?”  Graham shook his head, and looked over his shoulder at the table.  Not only was there a vase of daisies, Joe’s favorite, but there was a pair of unlit candles as well as a card leaning against one of the wine glasses.

“Did Nat happen to give you lessons on how to, um, romance me?”  Romance wasn’t quite what Nat had suggested to him, but he wasn’t going to admit to that conversation.

“I don’t need advice from my little sister on… Wait a minute, did she give you suggestions?”  Graham threw back his head and laughed.  “Sweetheart I don’t think you could turn redder if you tried.  What has Nat been up to?”

“Nothing.  She just thinks… she worries… I accidentally confessed that we haven’t… and she...”  Joseph covered his red face with both hands.  

“So my little sister is giving my boyfriend seduction advice?  Man, is my life a little weird sometimes.”  Graham kissed the back of both of Joseph’s hands.  “So she thinks you need to get some, does she?”

Joseph wasn’t about to mention that the conversation had started about Nat’s own sex life and lack of ‘getting some.’  Especially not when his little sister was on a date.  “She wants us to be happy.  And she was worried that I wasn’t quite recovered.  Which I assured her I was.”

“Of course you are.”  Graham’s hands encircled Joe’s wrists, tugging at them.  “But maybe she’s not wrong.  I’ve been telling myself that you need time to recover.  That we both do.  That just being able to hold you is enough.  And it is.  God, Joe, I came too close to losing you this past year and if I could do nothing but hold you for the rest of our lives I’d be happy.  But I think it’s time to take back something that belongs to us.”

“Graham.”  Joseph was barely aware of the tear that fell down his cheek.  His heart was so full it had to escape somewhere.  “I love you.”

“I love you, Joseph MacAvoy.  And I think Valentine’s Day is a perfect time to ask you if I can make love with you.  I had plans.  Dinner.”  He waved his hand over his shoulder at the table set for two.  “But it can wait.  I want you Joe.”

“I’m a little scared that I won’t remember how to… do anything.”  It had been more than a year.  He hadn’t known anything before meeting Graham.  Was it a skill that got rusty?

“You know how to love, Joe.  You know how to touch.  And no one has ever been able to make me feels as good as you do.”  Graham slid open the door that led to their bedroom, to the bed where they’d slept together every night he hadn’t been in the hospital.  They’d never made love on it, though.

“Remind me, Graham.  Please.”  He was trembling.  There had been days when he thought his every sin had been seen by God and losing Graham, never feeling his touch, was his penance.  And even darker days when he thought that Graham would be able to heal and move on if he would just die.  But their private purgatory had ended, and they were still standing.

Standing together, Graham’s chest to his back, his arms around Joseph’s waist.  Nimble fingers undid a single button, then another.  “Do you remember this, Joe?  The excitement burning in your belly?  The need humming in your blood?”

Joseph nodded, watching as the next buttons were undone.  Graham’s fingers were skilled, managing each button even as Graham was focused on kissing the back of his neck.  When the last button was released and the shirt fell open, however, Joseph flinched.

“Sweetheart?”

“I’m fine.  Sorry.”  He couldn’t help but run his fingers over his own belly.  The skin was pale, almost translucent.  Though he was slowly gaining weight he could still see each rib.  The contrast to Graham’s muscled torso and tanned arms was overwhelming.

“Tell me?” Graham asked as he turned Joseph gently until they were facing each other.  “I want you Joe.  I want you today and for all our tomorrows, so we can go as slow as we both need.  If this too much too soon…”

Joseph shook his head.  He wanted this.  Not just wanted, but Graham was right, they needed it.  The communion of it, as well as the joy.  “I wish I wasn’t… this.  I know I’ve never been the kind of guy most people look at, but at least I was…”

“Don’t be a bloody idiot.  You are everything I want.  Everything,” Graham stressed as he backed Joe into the wall.  Joseph had almost forgotten what it was like to lose his breath because of a kiss and not pain.

“I can feel your heart beating against my skin, and that matters.  I can feel your cock telling me that you want me, and that matters too.”  Graham’s hand slipped into Joe’s sweatpants, fingers gentle as they caressed him.  “And you are beautiful, Joseph.  You are so damn beautiful.  I don’t know why you can’t see that, but I see it.”

“Will you take me to bed, Graham?”  Joseph was awed by his lovers words.  Honestly he wasn’t sure how much longer his legs would support him.

She was just in time for coffee in the break room as well, but all the best pastries were gone.  Nat carefully picked all the raisins out of a muffin, and had time to eat most of it before her alarm went off.  she only had five minutes before first bell, and still had half a coffee to drink.  She knew from experience that Monday mornings were impossible to deal with on less than two cups of coffee.

"No more youtube on Sunday nights," she muttered as she left the break room.  And promptly ran into someone.  And spilled her coffee.  More on the walkway and the cuff of her sweater, fortunately, than the person she ran into.

The guy she ran into.

"I am so sorry."  Nat fumbled for something to wipe up the drips of coffee on the pale blue shirt.  "I am so, so sorry."

"It doesn't matter.  I'm less worried about my shirt than I am being late.  Can you point me in the direction of the west wing?  I'm starting today and I'm all turned around."

"You work here?"  It wasn't often that the upper form teachers found their way to her side of the school.

"I do if I don't get fired for being late.  I teach Lit, or will in about five minutes."  He had to be six fee tall, and his eyes were a piercing blue.  They didn't have teachers like that when she was in secondary.

"Turn left at the end of this corridor, right at the second corridor after that, and you'll be there.  Most of the writing and lit classes are upstairs.  Welcome," she added as an afterthought.  "I'm Nat."