So sorry for the delay! I truly have no excuse. Also, this chapter is by far the shortest one. I hope you all can forgive me and understand why after you finish reading it.

Like most every other teenager, Toki had spent a lot of time thinking about sex. His parents had never told him anything about it other than that it was a means for reproduction that he would understand when he was older, but exposure to his friends from a young age had helped to bridge the knowledge gap. He had learned, first, about relations between a man and a woman, and he leaned that from the incorrect and crass words rolling off of Murderface's tongue from the day that Toki had met him. What he knew of gay sex came from crude jokes and pantomimes—it wasn't until he asked Pickles, as earnest as possible, to sit down and explain everything in eighth grade that Toki got a good grasp on all things sexual. And Pickles continued to be the one he went to, the one he put the most faith in, because it was always kind of awkward to talk to Nathan about these things and because Murderface had proven himself, over and over, to be an unreliable source.

So it was Pickles that Toki now sat with on a Friday afternoon on a seawall, their legs drawn up and facing each other. They were, technically, at a music festival, the sun low in the sky and the sound of a band that neither of them liked but Nathan and Murderface were pretty into playing from their left. Toki'd been trying to scrounge up the courage to talk to Pickles about this all week, ever since he and Skwisgaar situated their plans last Sunday, but he'd failed until this moment. It was now or never—he wouldn't be able to get Pickles alone again before Saturday evening, a weekend packed with socialization ahead of them.

"Pickle," Toki began.

"Oh, I know that tone of voice." Pickles stretched back, keeping his hands on his ankles like a cat. "You're gonna talk to me about something real important, aren't you? Get on with it, then."

The world seemed to stop, and Toki was reminded of that conversation he had had with Pickles declaring himself not-straight. Sweat collected under Toki's brow. "I's—Skwisgaar and I's gonna—we's gonna fuck tomorrow." He choked on the words, sticking in his dry and overused throat from screaming for past bands at the festival.

Pickles laughed. Of course he did. He nearly fell over the seawall, too, teetering like a flag in the breeze, but stopped himself by gripping the other side. "Yeah, and? What do you want me to do? Bake you a cake? Congratulations on the sex you haven't had yet?"

Toki narrowed his eyes. "You doesn't have to be a jerk," he said, sniffing. "This ams serious, Pickle."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry." Pickles went rigid, reached forward and put a hand on Toki's exposed calf. The temperature had done a backflip over the last week, and it was hot again, the wind rolling in off the water causing them to shiver when it hit their sweaty, worn-out selves. "It's just, come on, kid. Ain't that hard. Tab A into Slot B."

"Dat's not de problem," Toki said. He narrowed his eyes further. "It's de…applications. It's de emotionals stuffs. Doesn't know what to expects."

Pickles shrugged. "It's Skwisgaar," he said, which had a weird effect of both calming Toki and making him even more nervous. "He ain't gonna stop being Skwisgaar with his dick in your ass."

"Why's you assume he fucks me? Why not I's fucks him?" Toki forgot about his crisis for a second, offense taking the place of panic.

"Size rule, I guess?" Toki screwed his face up in confusion. "You know, because he's taller."

"Oh," Toki said. "Oh, dat makes de sense."

Pickle nodded. "And older, and more experienced, all that shit. But you were talking about worrying about emotions, or some gay shit like that?" Toki nodded in affirmation. "Alright, well. I don't have experience with emotional sex, kid."

Toki furrowed his brow, tilted his head. "But you has experiences with everythings." He did—Toki considered Pickles more knowledgeable than any internet search engine for this reason. When Toki had a problem Pickles tended to have the solution, from handling dry mouth after smoking a blunt to the best pencils to buy for his art class.

"Not really." Pickles smiled, but it was a sad smile, and the moonlight hit his teeth in a way that made it almost ghastly. "Most of my sex is, like, an extension of my booze and my drugs. Another thing to feel good, y'know?" he shrugged.

"Oh." Toki was floored. "Dat sounds nice, but I doesn't wants tomorrow to be likes dat. I want it to be…romantics?"

Pickles faked gagging and Toki punched him in the shoulder, laughing. It did sound ridiculous, but it was true. He had fanciful notions, rose petals and mutual orgasm, music playing softly in the background, I love you's before, after, and during. He expected maybe half of one of those things to come true, somehow, but as he and Pickles straightened up and made sure they weren't about to slip into the churning black water of the ocean before, the mood became serious once more.

Pickles cleared his throat. "How much have you guys done already?"

"Uh. A lots." Toki sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to think. "Most stuffs, I guess. I's not worried abouts dat. We's figures it out."

"Don't underestimate the importance of lube." Pickles's face was so serious, so shadowed by the night, that Toki brings a fist to his mouth to bite down on the knuckles and prevent himself from bleating inappropriate laughter. "I'm serious, Toki. Shit's important. It'll probably hurt like a bitch without it. And let him prep you for as long as you need it. Don't go rushing in. Make sure you come first or you'll get real sore afterwards."

Toki nodded. These things had occurred to him, but hearing it from Pickles validated all of it somehow. Toki was both nervous and excited, as he imagined any virgin would be, and one can never be overly prepared for anything. "You knows," he said, his mind flickering back to the emotions and feelings part, "we hasn't said I loves you to each other yet."

"Really?" Pickles raises a single eyebrow. "I don't know why that surprises me. Maybe because you guys are, like, all over each other."

"Yeah, but dat's just de physical stuff, you knows. He's kind of…bads at de emotions." Toki rubbed at the back of his neck, wondering if this was oversharing or violating Skwisgaar's privacy. "Likes with dis Fucksface Academy thing, he says dey mights breaks up soon, but he won'ts talks about it besides to complain."

"Well, Toki, some Guys are just like that. How long you been datin' now?" Pickles relaxed, pivoting his body to stretch, and Toki eyed him carefully, afraid he'd fall, split his head on the rocks and be inable to advise him any further.

"Almost four months," Toki said, counting from the first of November to then.

"Four months in and you can't count on him changin'," Pickles said with a wise nod of the head. "I think…I'm going to be serious, and sort of gay, here, for a second, Toki. I think it'll be fine, and I think you guys are good for each other. Like, day and night, but not, you know? You shouldn't worry about tomorrow, and even if it goes sort of bad, well, kid, a lot of sex goes sort of bad and people still make it through." Pickles attempted a virile punch at Toki's shoulder, or something, but it ended up being more like a maternal accosting.

"Thanks, Pickle." In contrast, Toki pulled Pickles towards him, wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. In the background he could hear whoops and hollers and a bass that needed to be tuned down, so loud it was making the grass quiver.

They were left with quite some time before the festival ended, which they spent passing a joint between them and talking about nothing in particular. The sun slinked below the sea, the night arriving with a rotund moon and actual stars. Pickles pointed out that there'd be a full moon tomorrow night, which did nothing to placate Toki's overly romantic fantasies. Nathan and Murderface appeared on the tail end of the last band, Nathan's hair plastered to his face with sweat, Murderface's a literal bird nest of frizz.

"How was it?" Pickles asked, climbing down from the seawall and stretching his legs. Toki followed suit, though he almost fell into the waiting water, his high getting to him.

"Totally awesome, you should've watched it." Nathan flicked a piece of hair out of his face, his gargantuan chest heaving. Murderface, meanwhile, had dropped to the ground, laying in a heap of fat and perspiration.

"You know I don't like the festival scene, Nathan," Pickles said. Toki giggled into his hand, Pickles sounding like a nag. "Besides, Toki and me here had a real good talk." Pickles slung an arm around Toki's shoulder, brought him close and squeezed.

"Lame. What do you guys want to do now?"

"I just wants to goes back," Toki offered, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout. He didn't know what time it was, but it seemed late, and he was tired. He wouldn't be seeing Skwisgaar until tomorrow evening, but he was anxious, wanting to eat up as much time as possible. Maybe he'd sleep for twelve hours. Pickles nodded in agreement.

"God, you guys are lame tonight," Nathan muttered. He kicked at Murderface's side. "C'mon, Murderface, we're going home." Murderface groaned from the ground, but got up anyway.

They collected themselves and pushed through the crowd of people that had amassed and were now blocking the way to the exit. Toki's ears felt like they had a thin layer of cotton coating them, the low thrum of voices laying just underneath enough for him to be unable to interpret them. They shuffled through the throng of people until they broke free into the streets, where they walked yet another twenty minutes to get to Nathan's truck, parked in the bottom level of a parking garage. The night was cool and Toki stuffed his hands into the front of his hoodie, drawing his shoulders into himself and shivering, although that might've been the anticipation of the next day.

"I have an idea," Nathan pronounced after buckling himself into the driver's seat, watching the rearview mirror and waiting for some of the traffic to clear before backing out. "We should totally get some Mexican food."

"Oh, shit, that's a great idea." Pickles reclined in his seat, putting both arms behind his head. "Is everybody good with that?"

Murderface shouted in agreement; Toki nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. Nathan backed out of the space and guided his truck out of garage, jerking the truck into the left turn lane on the next street, tires squealing as he took the turn on the last seconds of the arrow. Five minutes down a badly paved street and they were unloading themselves at the much-loved mom and pop Mexican restaurant sandwiched between two other, lesser restaurants. The place was packed, as was to be expected following such a music festival, and Toki and his friends waited twenty minutes for a table.

They stood just outside the restaurants, their back pressing into the yellow brick of the place. Nathan told Pickles in detail about the performance and Murderface was texting Dick. Toki looked over at Murderface's phone, tried to discern what he was texting to ground himself. "Mind your own buschinessch," Murderface snapped, shoving his phone into his pocket.

"Sorries," Toki said, holding his hand up.

"What do you got to hide, eh?" Pickles laughed, hitting Murderface in the shoulder. Murderface scowled at him.

"Maybe he's texting his girlfriend," Nathan said. The idea of Murderface having a girlfriend in itself was laughable and so everybody laughed. Murderface deepened his scowl and Toki tried not to feel out of it, but he did, like he was floating above the scene and just watching it happen instead of being an active participant.

A few minutes later a waiter came out to retrieve and seat them. Toki had no idea what he ordered, though he knew he had asked for a hibiscus tea lemonade, which was so sweet and tangy it seemed to stick his tongue to the roof his mouth when he drank it. Pickles flashed his fake I.D. and bought tequila that Nathan eyed. Murderface resumed his texting, holding his phone so that nobody could see the screen. More waiting for their food, the restaurant loud and busy, Toki wavering in and out.

Picking apart his enchilada, Toki found it hard to concentrate. He dug black beans out of a shell he was disinterested in and felt his eyes drift out of focus as he zoned out, thought of Skwisgaar. He'd only managed to make an absolute mess of his food and get about three mouthfuls he didn't taste before everybody else finished and Pickles snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention and alert him that they were leaving.

Toki's state of mind did not improve much as they returned to Nathan's house, nor for the rest of the night. His high wore off as time crept forward, but he found himself unable to concentrate on the video games the other three were playing, instead preferring to spread himself over a couch and try not to let him stomach boil over from nerves. He couldn't pinpoint the exact source of his anxiety, his mind incapable of producing a worse-case scenario, but every time he thought of Skwisgaar sliding into him he felt his chest tighten and stomach churn. He entertained the idea that perhaps he wasn't ready but decided that wasn't it—he was ready, he wanted it, but that didn't make it, the big, magical it, any less scary.

He ended up falling asleep on the couch, one arm hanging off and drawing patterns on the carpet to try and ground himself. He slept fitfully and longer than he usually did, waking up to toss and turn. Somebody had draped a blanket over him, which he noticed the first time he woke up, kicked off the second time, and retrieved from the floor the third. The guys had left the television on but turned the game console off, the screen black but still buzzing and giving off light, preventing Toki from sinking into the deep and dreamless sleep he craved.

He forced himself off the couch around eleven in the morning. Feeling a bit guilty he folded the blanket and put it on the side of the couch, fluffing the throw pillows he'd rumpled and replacing them as well. Once he did that, he couldn't stop tidying—he turned the television off, packed up everything from the night before, even collected all the trash and took it to the kitchen to throw it away. Once in the kitchen he started neatening everything there, too, and was about to start on the dishes until Pickles materialized in the doorway, saying Toki's name and startling him.

Toki turned around. "Whats?" he hissed, adopting a defensive stance.

"Nothin', Jesus, Toki. Why are you cleaning Nathan's kitchen?" Pickles leaned his shoulder against the doorway and crossed his arms.

"It was dirty."

"Uh, no it wasn't." Pickles uncrossed his arms and walked over to Toki, looking him up and down with a scrupulous eye. "What's up with you, kid? Still worried about tomorrow?"

Toki averted his eyes, choosing to instead study one of the kitchen tiles. "Maybes," he said, heat flaring across his face. "Ams stupids, because I knows I shouldn't be, buts—"

"I get it, I get it," Pickles said. He put his hand on Toki's shoulder and Toki looked up. Pickles's face was earnest and understanding, calming Toki somewhat as it had the previous night. "Look, like I told you—I don't know shit about sex like you want it to be. I barely remember my first time, I was blazed off my nuts, alright? And I'm getting sick of these emotional little talks we've been having. Just come hang with me and Nathan and Murderface. Stop worrying for a few hours."

And so Toki did. He forced his impending date with Skwisgaar out of his mind and followed Pickles up the stairs to Nathan's room. Nathan and Murderface were awake, Nathan on his bed and Murderface at the computer, their usual positions. They all smoked a bowl and listened to the newest release by one of their collective favorite bands, dissecting every song on the album for the rest of the morning and the majority of the afternoon. As the evening inched closer, Toki's nerves started to crawl back inside of him, his head swimming with half-thoughts about the next few hours. He bundled them up and shoved them to the corner of his mind, trying his best to perk his ears for the sound of the rhythm guitar on the track, his assigned instrument to listen for and discuss.

When it came time for Toki to leave to meet Skwisgaar at their decided location, he looked at Nathan with a nervous expression. Nathan raised his eyebrows and Toki gestured to the door; Nathan nodded and grabbed his keys from his nightstand. He and Nathan shuffled out of the room, Pickles and Murderface following them. Toki knew that after they dropped him off they were planning on hanging out around downtown for a while, collecting Skwisgaar and Toki as Nathan's curfew came closer for another sleepover at Nathan's, this time including Skwisgaar. Toki thought that might be awkward, seeing his friends so soon after having sex with Skwisgaar for the first time, just another anxiety to add to an endless list. His head was so fogged he barely noticed the ride downtown, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood and then running his tongue over the sore and sucking it.

Nathan parked in a parking complex and the four of them walked to the coffee shop where they had arranged to meet Skwisgaar. It wasn't the one he and Toki had sat in when Toki'd skipped school but it was similar, and something about that was soothing. They pushed the door open and Toki saw Skwisgaar, reclining on a cheap velveteen couch against a wall like this was something he did every day, his torso elongated and eyebrows perched just in the slightest. After what felt like a lightning bolt coursing through his veins, Toki swore his heart ceased beating, his muscles seized up and he stopped, the doorway to the coffee shop swinging shut behind him.

"Tokis?" Toki blinked away his temporary blindness, seeing Skwisgaar now standing in front of him, cocking his head. Skwisgaar's hand hovered out from his body as if he wanted to touch Toki but wasn't sure if he could, and something about that made Toki almost want to sob with relief. He threw his arms around Skwisgaar's neck in a full embrace, squeezing him tight. Yes, he thought, yes. And into Toki's hair Skwisgaar whispered: "Ams you readies?"

Toki pulled back and smiled, nodded. He separated from Skwisgaar and took his hand, walking out of the coffee shop. He forgot to say goodbye to his friends, but something about how Nathan was yelling at the cashier for not being able to get his order straight made him think they didn't care.

Skwisgaar and Toki had spent a while deciding on where the events of the evening should take place. Toki's house was quite obviously out of the question; Nathan's was awkward, as was Skwisgaar's; neither of them had a car; neither of them had the money for a motel room and Toki felt sleazy about that option, anyway. He didn't want to be a hookup in a stranger's bed at a party, half-high and drunk, nor a one-night stand to be ruined and left for dead. It was Skwisgaar that threw the idea of a public place out, sort of as a joke, but Toki had latched onto that—after all, they'd kissed on a beach, made out in a dressing room, blew each other in Dick Knubbler's bathroom. The romantic notion of returning to the beach where they'd had their first kiss, that secluded patch of sand on the severe slope hidden in the night, appealed to Toki, and Skwisgaar had agreed.

On the way to their little beach, they talked about everything but what was about to happen. Skwisgaar complained about Fuckface Academy; Toki complained about how Skwisgaar always complained about Fuckface Academy; Toki told Skwisgaar about the music festival, omitting his conversation with Pickles; they even talked about current events, the weather. Toki's nerves almost vanished, just a weak pulse of anxiety where his palm connected with Skwisgaar's, until they started the descent down to the beach. As Toki's fit slid beneath him on the sand, building up traction to keep him from slipping, his anxiety followed a similar pattern, rising until it felt like a ball he couldn't swallow at the back of his throat.

Toki stood near the water while Skwisgaar pulled a beach towel from the backpack he was wearing, securing it to the ground with his high-top white Converse, Toki's low-top black ones (still with the Sharpie doodles all over them), their cell phones and the backpack itself. The beach towel was colorful, stripes of citric colors, which calmed Toki in a weird, vague way. It was early, around six, and the sun was almost set, the light kind of dark but kind of not. Wind was rolling off of the sea and it was cold but not really, not enough that Toki could feel it, his shirt flapping around his stomach. He heard Skwisgaar padding through the sand, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Toki, brushing aside his hair and kissing a spot into his neck.

"Heys," Toki said, still watching the water. He wanted to see a dolphin.

"Heys." Skwisgaar pulled his mouth from Toki's neck. "You okays?"

"Yeah." Toki said. He turned around in Skwisgaar's hold, wrapping his own arms around Skwisgaar. He walked them backwards until they were standing ankle-deep in waves that lapped lightly at their skin, sea foam collecting around them.

Skwisgaar smiled down at Toki, lowered his head and pressed his mouth against Toki's own. They kissed like that, standing in the water, until the sun fell and the moon rose and it was dark but not completely, the full moon bountiful and beautiful, coating their skin in a silvery sheen. They worked their bodies into each other's, kissing with ferocity, ethereal in the enveloping night. With lips and eyelids heavy and swollen they parted, looking at each other. Skwisgaar's hands tangled in Toki's hair, Toki nodded.

"Ams a littles nervous," Toki whispered, nuzzling his head forward. "Has to admit."

"Ams okays if you doesn't want to—"

Toki shook his head, cutting Skwisgaar off. "Noes, noes, I wants to. Dis will sound stupids, but—I feels safe with you. I knows dat now. I ams really calms right now."

"You sure?" When Toki nodded, Skwisgaar nodded in return, capturing Toki in a quick and filthy open-mouth kiss before stepping back and taking him by the hand. They walked out of the surf and across the sand to the beach towel, Skwisgaar tugging his shirt off his back unceremoniously, Toki doing the same, tossing them to the side. Toki wondered what his scars and bruises and cuts must look like in the moonlight, if they stood out against his tan, if they revealed the ugliness inside of him. He hesitated before coming to his knees on the towel, Skwisgaar sitting cross-legged opposite him. But Skwisgaar wasn't looking at the impressions of a hand on Toki's upper arm or the scars that leaked over from his back—he was looking at Toki's eyes, his mouth, serene, seductive. Toki fell towards Skwisgaar, resuming their kissing.

They ran their hands up and down each other's bodies. Toki twisted Skwisgaar's nipples and his lips quirked, Skwisgaar's hand dipping into Toki's pants, finding his cock and palming at it. Toki, already half-hard, lurched forward, curling a hand he had splayed across Skwisgaar's right shoulder. He knew he wouldn't make it through a handjob and shook his head, moving Skwisgaar's hand away.

"Whats?" Skwisgaar asked. "Nerves?"

Toki laughed and kissed the crease that had formed between Skwisgaar's eyebrows. "No, not dat," he said. "De opposites. I doesn't think I's last dat long tonight—can you just gets on with de prepping?"

Skwisgaar nodded. Toki stood up on his knees so that Skwisgaar could pull his shorts and boxers down enough to access his ass, groping and stroking before pulling Toki towards him and kissing him while he felt around for the lube. When Skwisgaar found the bottle he lathered his hands in it, using his wrists to keep Toki pressed against him. He ran his hand across Toki's ass, fingers dancing around his hole, drawing goose bumps on Toki's skin until dipping a single finger just inside. Toki rocked backwards and Skwisgaar responded, inserting a second finger. They kept that rhythm, Toki's cock trapped between his and Skwisgaar's stomach, Skwisgaar's straining in his jeans, Skwisgaar's fingers hitting something that made Toki seize in delight for a few minutes until Toki shook his head, put his hands flat on Skwisgaar's chest and said, "Now, please."

"Polite," Skwisgaar said. He pulled his fingers out and Toki sat back on his ankles, his ass feeling empty and himself impatient. "I likes dat." He leaned back to find his backpack and Toki took the time to drag his eyes up and down Skwisgaar's body, smooth and lean and white, before taking initiative and pulling his jeans off himself. Skwisgaar raised his eyebrows as he slathered himself in lube and retrieved a condom from the wrapper. He raised his hips, letting Toki take his pants and boxers off completely and throw them behind him before crawling up Skwisgaar's body and kissing him, squeezing his cockhead for good measure. "Dis is a little uncomfortables, Toki," Skwisgaar muttered, nudging Toki back.

"Sorries." Toki sat up again and Skwisgaar took the condom, unwrapping it and slipping it onto his dick.

"You still good?" Toki nodded; emotionally, he was fine, but he was about to go mad with lust, his eyes focused on Skwisgaar's waiting and alluring dick, his fists balling on his knees. "Good, then comes here."

Skwisgaar rearranged his legs so they straddled Toki, reclined, and tugged him close. Toki used all his strength to lower himself onto Skwisgaar's cock, a bit at a time. It was slow; of course it was slow. Skwisgaar was well-endowed and this was Toki's first time. It was weird and strange for all the same reasons, but it felt amazing, his legs shaking with not so much the strain as the pleasure. When he got as far down as he could, Skwisgaar's hand resting on his hips, Toki sighed, so deep he could feel it in the bottom of his lungs—he had jacked off, he had gotten handjobs, blowjobs, even been fingered, but nothing compared to this, this complete and total feeling of fullness and contentment. He wrapped his hands around Skwisgaar's shoulders and dug his nails into the dip of the skin, his forehead angled into Skwisgaar's hair. He was doing it—he was really doing it, Skwisgaar was inside of him, and he didn't feel nervous so much as ecstatic. Every particle that composed his body quivered and despite the coolness of the night, he began to sweat.

"Jesus, Toki." Skwisgaar, his voice a butterfly landing on Toki's neck as he rolled his hips up once, slow, experimental. Toki gasped into him, tightened his grip, and Skwisgaar groaned with something between physical and emotional pain. Toki knew the feeling, sympathized—his heart was burning and clenching almost as much as his ass.

"Skwisgaar," was Toki's only reply, his eyes squeezed shut so tight fireworks were going off against the backdrop of his eyelids.

Skwisgaar tilted his hips again, searching for a good angle, and eventually pressing his chest against Toki's own, nudging him back. "Let's gets you on you's back," he murmured and Toki nodded, glad to soothe his now-aching calves. They lowered themselves to the towel, a true team effort, slowly, until Skwisgaar was supporting himself with hands on either side of Toki's head and Toki moved his hands so they laid flat against Skwisgaar's back, sprawled and gripping, trying to touch as much as he could. He raised his hips and dug his heels around Skwisgaar so that he was essentially clinging to him. Once they were comfortable and nestled, Skwisgaar started thrusting—first in slow increments, then gaining speed. Toki kept his eyes closed, and nodded his head each time Skwisgaar asked if he was okay, if he was comfortable, if he was good.

Toki had almost forgotten his own arousal in the hysteria that built up to this, to the snapping of Skwisgaar's hips and the feeling of his skin beneath his fingernails. His hardness and the pressure coiled in his stomach surprised him, and his right hand slipped down Skwisgaar's back and between their bodies without conscious thought. He sighed and opened his eyes halfway when his fingers brushed his own cock before wrapping around it. Skwisgaar noticed what he was doing, nodded, and moved a hand so that he could stroke at Toki's hair, leaning down to press kisses to Toki's lips, the corner of his mouth, his jawline, his neck. Toki nodded in return, over and over again, in rhythm with Skwisgaar's thrusts and jacking himself off. The towel beneath them crumpled and sand snuck in, sticking to their sweat, but Toki didn't notice. He only dug his heels in further to Skwisgaar, tried to close the space in its entirety, feel every part of his body. It was so much and yet not enough—Toki bent his head up and bit at Skwisgaar's skin, leaving the impression of his teeth and smiling at the expression on Skwisgaar's face when he came back down. His.

Skwisgaar picked up speed until he released a guttural moan and dropped to Toki's chest, his hips jerking in orgasm. Toki came as soon as he felt Skwisgaar spasm, pounding against his prostate and sending his body into orbit with ecstasy. He could see stars in the actual night sky, just far enough from the city, but the saw stars he saw in his eyes, in Skwisgaar's eyes, in the future and the past and especially the present trumped them by far. Toki immediately deflated, his other hand rolling off of Skwisgaar's body and his legs relaxing. Through the haze Toki managed to run a hand through Skwisgaar's hair, petting him, as if to congratulate him for a job well done.

"Faster than I thought you'd be," Toki mumbled. His muscles felt like they'd loss about fifty percent of their mass, a blanket of tiredness settling over him. The stars he saw, showering and popping, slowed down, and his blood felt like it'd turn to lead, thick and the only thing keeping him tied to the earth at the moment.

Skwisgaar made some noise that was unidentifiable and rolled off of Toki, moving to position himself so that Toki could curl up into him. The beach towel had shriveled up with their efforts, coiling onto them, that and the other's body heat sheltering them from the cold of the breeze. The ringing in Toki's ears subsided and he could hear the waves crashing against the beach once more. Toki's eyes were as heavy as he felt, barely registering the feeling of movement as Skwisgaar removed his condom and tied it off, tossed it behind his head.

"Dat's littering," Toki said, smiling into Skwisgaar's chest.

"Whatsever." Skwisgaar said around a yawn, repositioning himself so he could hold Toki better. "Doesn't care. Mother Earth shoulds be happy to has my cum."

"Dat's gross," Toki mumbled. "You's gross." He remembered then that his own cum was drying on their stomachs with a jerk, his eyes going wide. "Does you has a rag?"

"Yeah." Skwisgaar leaned back, got a rag from his backpack and handed it to Toki. Toki rolled on his back, wiped himself off, and passed the rag—which he realized was a classic red bandana—to Skwisgaar, who did the same. When they were clean they came back together, like magnets snapping into place.

It was quiet for a while. Toki didn't know how long—he felt like he had transcended time, like he was swimming around inside of his own small, infinite universe, composed only of this beach and this beach towel and Skwisgaar. It was the same feeling he'd experienced in the room at that New Year's Eve party, trembling underneath Skwisgaar's fingers as he explored his scars and whispered apologies and pledges. With that memory Toki was gripped by a sudden and violent gladness that Skwisgaar had ignored Toki's imperfections during this first time—he would have come undone if Skwisgaar had dipped into the track of a scar or thumbed a bruise, would've cried for days. And despite being a crier Toki felt no need for tears, that gratitude easing itself into a gentle peace and a realization: this feeling of mutual isolation was the feeling of deep, genuine, cemented love. Not love that arose out of Skwisgaar doing something particularly amazing and admirable, or the type of love you express when somebody lets you copy their math homework or gives you candy, or even the type of love he had felt in the beginning, where the urge to blurt it out was strong all the time. This was real. He moved farther back from Skwisgaar so his vision was not obscured by his chest and he could observe Skwisgaar's face, the strands of hair that clung to the sweat drying on his cheekbones, the moisture that collected in his eyelashes and the flecks of sand that had found their way to his neck. Skwisgaar's eyebrows creased again, confused, and he opened his perfect mouth in a perfect shape, but Toki cut him off—

"I love you."

Skwisgaar closed his mouth. His eyebrows knitted closer together, then fell apart. His hand, which had been absently rubbing Toki's upper arm, idled. His jaw went slack and he breathed out hard through his nose. Toki saw in Skwisgaar the same deflation he had just experienced in the physical sense, but in him it was emotional and perhaps even more total than Toki's had been. "Ja," he said, his eyelids fluttering down. "Ja. I love you too. Comes here."

Toki slotted himself back into Skwisgaar's grasp. That was when he felt the tears threatening to spill, and he let them, knowing that after everything, it would be okay.

"I loves you so much," Skwisgaar began to mumble, talking into Toki's skin, his hands running through his hair. "I doesn't tell you dat because I's scared, I guesses. Dis is, like, de first emotional sex I ever has, and you's de most emotionals I's ever been with and ever felt, and I didn'ts know what dat was likes, you knows? I thinks about you and I talks about you all de time, I's be in a store and I's like, oh, Toki would likes dat, I hears a band and I's like, oh, Toki woulds likes dem. And I don'ts just loves you, I likes you, and I's never liked anybody's I's been with before. I's never cared if dey felt okay and safe and all dat stuff. But I cares with you. I cares with you so much."

Toki shivered into Skwisgaar. He was crying, he was—this was, arguably, more important and monumental than the sex for him. He had felt Skwisgaar's penetration in every inch, but he felt this raw emotion in every molecule, in his fucking soul. This was what had prevented him from feeling that completeness during the sex and he wept with the implications of their next time, of their relationship, of this boy holding him with the teeth marks belonging to Toki that Toki could dig his fingers into and make him scream. Toki had to kiss Skwisgaar, put as much effort as he had left into him, like the way couples kiss at the end of a marriage ceremony. To seal it. To seal this between them, this pact of love and trust, forever, that was the type of kiss that Toki gave Skwisgaar and that Skwisgaar returned.

Toki thought about telling Skwisgaar everything—how nervous he'd been, his doubts, his insecurities, but he felt it was unnecessary. Felt Skwisgaar knew. Felt this was now more about Skwisgaar, about his vulnerability, about the way Toki could feel his heart beating when he pressed his palm against his chest. Their heartbeats were in a glorious synchrony, and though there had been no rose petals or candles or music in the background, and though Toki's ass was a little sore and there was sand everywhere and he was sort of sticky, it was perfect. He had gotten his I love you, he'd gotten more than half, he'd gotten the whole.

They fell asleep and woke up some time later, still entangled and freezing cold, hastening to collect their clothes and get them back on. There were sand in their jeans and their shirts were dank but they were laughing as they beat the beach towel of all the sand it had collected, Toki showing Skwisgaar how to fold it and shoving it back inside Skwisgaar's backpack. They stood in the middle of their little beach, this beach that meant so much to them, and looked around at it, at the craggy bushes and sharp incline, the weatherworn and crumbled seawall that allowed such a place to exist. It was perfect, it was the perfect place and Toki couldn't have imagined this night, this perfect night, having had happened anywhere else. He couldn't believe he had been so worried when everything had gone so well.

They lingered before heading back—Skwisgaar had checked his phone and a surprising amount of time had passed, almost ten o'clock now—with the backpack hanging off of one of Skwisgaar's shoulders, the moon hitting his face in a way that highlighted the angles and the beauty in the way that he stared at Toki. Toki felt no need to look into the ocean now, to search for a dolphin, to dream about escape. All he wanted to do was look at Skwisgaar, standing before him, a bruise rising where Toki had bit him, the hem of his shirt uneven on his hips so that Toki could see a sliver of his stomach. All he wanted to do was smile, so he did.

"We should does dat again," Skwisgaar said, and Toki melted.

"It was okay." Toki shrugged and Skwisgaar rolled his eyes; Toki laughed and nudged Skwisgaar; Skwisgaar nudged back. Still laughing and nudging and loving they left the beach, left the waves lapping at the shore and the condom filled with the evidence of what they'd done somewhere in the bushes, bringing with them the sand in the crotches of their jeans and the bond they had secured, the invisible red string that tied around their pinky fingers and knotted between them.