Fletcher paced up and down his small flat. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get Solomon off his mind. He stopped pacing and sat on his bed, his head in his hands. Fuck it, he thought to himself. Fuck the fact that he might not like you; fuck the time of night it is. Get your arse to his place now.
He took a deep breath and teleported to where he had last heard Solomon was supposed to live.
Fletcher looked around him. The room was small and dark. In the corner was a single bed. The only other furniture was a pair of small chairs and a writing desk. The door opened, and Solomon Wreath stepped in, pausing as he saw Fletcher.
He closed and locked the door behind himself. "Fletcher Renn," he said softly. "What are you doing here?"
Fletcher took a deep breath, then it all came tumbling out; how he had loved Solomon since they first met, how his affair with Valkyrie had been the wrong thing to do, how he was glad Valkyrie had cheated on him, because it was an excuse to free himself from her, how he simply couldn't stop thinking of Solomon, and how he needed him.
Solomon closed his eyes for a moment, processing the information, and Fletcher thought Oh my, he's going to kill me. How cliché, how bloody Shakespearian, how-
"Fletcher," Solomon said. "I… That is exactly how I feel about you… If I had known…"
Fletcher tilted his head, not daring to believe what Solomon was saying. "You… you mean that?"
Solomon sighed and threw his arms around Fletcher's neck, running his fingers through the rebellious hair as their lips met, and now Fletcher did believe him, and he kissed him back, one hand on Solomon's neck, the other on his waist.
Solomon pushed Fletcher against the wall, and Fletcher leaned back, snaking a foot around Solomon's ankle. Solomon broke off the kiss. "I want you!" he whispered, and Fletcher smiled, teleporting them to the bed. "More practical here, yes?" he said teasingly.
Solomon and Fletcher quickly undressed.
Solomon cried out as Fletcher threw himself on top of him, pressing himself against him, his legs wrapped tightly around Solomon's.
Solomon ran his fingers through the hair again, letting one hand slide down Fletcher's back. The boy relaxed, and Solomon rolled so that Fletcher was underneath. He moved down between Fletcher's legs, and Fletcher held onto the sides of the bed, gasping with pleasure.
After two minutes, Fletcher exhaled deeply, and Solomon moved up to kiss him, a grin on his face. Their tongues intertwined and played with each other until Solomon rolled off and lay next to him, panting slightly.
Fletcher got on his hands and knees, smiling weakly, and Solomon sat up, stroking Fletcher's side. He got onto his knees and clambered on top. He placed his hands on Fletcher's thighs and drew short, excited breaths as he moved. Fletcher moaned happily, voicing ridiculous, semi-romantic exclamations, and Solomon continued moving rhythmically, the two men becoming as one with their simultaneous, repetitive gasps.
Then it was over, and Fletcher and Solomon lay there in each other's arms, breathing heavily. "I'm glad I decided to come over," Fletcher whispered.
"Me too," Solomon said, kissing Fletcher's chest. "You make me feel alive."
"And you make me feel like I have something – someone – to live for," Fletcher replied, caressing Solomon's back.
"N'awww," Solomon said, and he kissed Fletcher again.
"Dare we make it official?" Fletcher asked nervously.
"I suggest we wait a while," Solomon said. "I'm not sure everyone would understand, so I think we should learn to synchronise our abilities before we come out."
"Makes sense," Fletcher said, letting Solomon bury his head in his abdomen. He sighed. "I love you."
Solomon kissed his hip. "We're not finished," he said cheekily.
Fletcher pushed Solomon onto the floor and straddled his back. "We won't be finished for a loooong time," he whispered into Solomon's ear, "you can be sure of that."