It was well after midnight when the taxi pulled in and Gethin helped Jonathan out of it, paid the driver, and watched the car slide away into the night.

'It's still bloody early!' Jonathan protested volubly. 'The night is young!'

'Yes, it is, but I'm not. Or I don't feel it. Busy day, all told, and anyway, it's not like we're going to separate homes, now, is it?'

'As long as it isn't separate beds...'

Jonathan nudged Gethin's shoulder, completely misjudging his strength, sending him staggering, himself reeling. Gethin caught his own balance, caught Jonathan, and grinned.

'Oops! Think you might be a little bit tipsy there, Geth, my sweet!' Jonathan said, draping his arms around Gethin's neck. 'I just had... had a smassshing time an' I don't want the night to end...'

'Okay. The night is young, we've both danced and drunk enough in public, we've both had a lovely time and we should continue our date in private. So. Your place or mine?'

'Hmm, let me think... Yours, maybe. Because I only just moved in to my place, an' I don't know where everything is yet...'

Gethin sought keys, unlocked the door.

'Come on. Manage the stairs, can you? Or shall I bring a blanket and some cushions and we can just have at it on the floor in the back room?'

'Stairs are fine, fine...' Jonathan said, holding the handrail and standing at the bottom of the flight. 'Good thing too, this escalator's knackered...'

'Come on, then.'

Once in the flat, Gethin attempted to release his supporting hold on Jonathan's waist, but his friend had other ideas, instead turning in his arms to pull close and snuggle in to his neck. His breath was warm and tickly and made Gethin's head spin and his body respond.

'Mmm, you smell lovely, Mister Bookshopkeeper. Beer and dancing and kisses... Wonderful... jus' lovely.'

'Thank you. Why don't you sit down...?' Gethin broke off as Jonathan decided he needed a kiss, and so it was some time before either had breath. 'No, you can sit down, and I'll make some coffee, yes?'

Gethin extricated himself gently and went into the kitchen.

'Yes,' Jonathan said. 'Wait... No. Want to help...'

'Well, you can help best by sitting on the sofa and making sure it doesn't run away,' Gethin said, grinning as Jonathan came up behind him, sliding his arms around Gethin's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. 'Or not. Do you want coffee?'

Jonathan snuggled closer, pressing hard against him, echoing Gethin's need, and he pushed back against the hardness.

'If I get to choose,' Jonathan said, low and slow into his ear, '... I think I'll have... you.'

'Yes?' Gethin dipped his head, steadying himself against the counter. 'You know, just because you're tallest doesn't mean you have to be Top...'

'And just because I'm in a frock does not mean I have to play the woman,' Jonathan articulated clearly. 'This is self-expresshun... expression, darling. Not role determination.'

'Yes, I got that, earlier. I'm sure we can work something out...' Gethin leaned to switch on the kettle, pushing his hips back and causing Jonathan to groan at the increased pressure suddenly against him. 'Do you want to sit down, get comfortable?'

'Not going to get comfortable by sitting down... lying down, maybe...'

'Coffee upstairs, then? I'll bring it, you go up.'

With a sigh Jonathan disengaged and retreated, leaving Gethin suddenly cold and wondering whether he should have been quite so forthright about his preferences, belatedly realising that although Jonathan had been in a happy mood all evening, he might still be on the fragile side...

He lingered for a moment or two, stirring the coffee beyond its needs just to give him an excuse to delay, to try to work out how he could retrieve the situation if so, if he'd spoiled it.

He backed into the bedroom with the mugs in his hands, and so didn't see what was going on until he'd put down the coffees on the bedside cabinet and turned round.

Jonathan had undressed and arranged himself on the bed, facing the door and with just a fold of blankets over his midsection. His head was propped on one hand while the other traced abstract circles on the bed and his gaze was thoughtful, and slightly defocussed.

'You managed your zip, I see,' Gethin said, sitting on the bed.

'Yes. And I'm not in a dress now. I thought it might help.'

'About downstairs...' Gethin shrugged. 'I didn't mean you never could, or I always want to... just... I don't want to make assumptions about you. Only discoveries, all right?'

Jonathan nodded into his hand.

'That's a lovely way of putting it, so to speak. All right.' Suddenly he sat up, the fold of bedding pooling in his lap. 'Is it my imagination or are you wearing too many clothes?'

He twisted around, rolling like a huge golden lion cub to rest his head in Gethin's lap and reach up to fiddle at his buttons, working them open one by one until the shirt was undone, and roaming his fingers over Gethin's ribs and teasing up his spine before sliding the garment off over his shoulders where it fell to catch around his wrists.

'Mmm. That's much more like my imagination,' Jonathan said and, finding his mouth inches away from Gethin's stomach, kissed the dark drift of hair around his navel. 'Well? Are you leaving things like that? Or do I have to undo your cuffs for you as well?'

Not easy to fight free of a shirt when the material was over the cuffs behind your back; it was a bit like getting out of very long handcuffs, and having his belly button gently licked and kissed at the same time was a little distracting, but eventually, and with an increasing sense of frustrating urgency, Gethin managed it.

Jonathan nuzzled in and wrapped his arms around Gethin's body.

'Only thing,' he murmured against Gethin's skin. 'Button on your jeans isn't half digging in...'

He shifted again, sitting up and kissing Gethin's mouth, his hands busy now on the fastenings of the jeans, Gethin complicit, hurrying out of the rest of his clothes and trying not to break the kiss, savouring Jonathan's tongue sliding against his own, the thought that a moment earlier that same tongue had been busy lower on his body adding to the sensation, the excitement, and he shivered in the chill of the flat as he battled out of his shoes without untying the laces, worked out of his socks and took Jonathan in his arms to lie with him and press skin-to-skin, hyper-aware of all the contours and undulations of flesh and bone and muscle, soft and firm and, oh, very, very hard against him...

Thoughts of that morning, of Jonathan waking him so wonderfully returned to him, and he began to move, to wriggle and writhe his way on top, and though Jonathan allowed Gethin to break the kiss only with reluctance, realisation of where Gethin was heading as his lips grazed and lingered their way down his body caused him to lie back, and accept.

Jonathan's hands in his hair, smoothing through, stroking, adding to the sensation, and his own need a pulsing delight, building, urgent but not desperate, as Gethin turned his attention to Jonathan's erection, filling his mouth with him, steadying his hands on the strong thighs, taking his time, enjoying the fullness, the small and eager noises from somewhere outside, the hands in his hair, reading the tensing of Jonathan's body under him, bringing all his skills to bear on his task until the hands clutched at him, the hips under him arced and spasmed, and Jonathan let out a cry that Gethin, even as he swallowed, and swallowed, and gentled his mouth, considered excessively loud in the confines of the bedroom.

Letting go gently, he eased back up the bed to pull Jonathan, still shuddering, against him and cradle his head in his arms.

'Great, just what I always wanted, a screamer...' He felt Jonathan draw breath to speak, and went on hastily, in case his golden lover hadn't realised he was joking. 'Self-expression, that's the ticket!'

He pulled blankets over them both, settling into a comfortable cuddle with Jonathan stretching across his body, one of his lovely, long hands reaching to cover Gethin's groin in delicate exploration.

'Bloody hell, and you said you thought I was good...' Jonathan said with a laugh in his voice. 'So, when were you at RADA, then?'

'Ah, well, I wasn't, of course. Practiced on leeks.'

'Leeks?'

Gethin could feel the frown of puzzlement on Jonathan's forehead, tried to keep the grin out of his voice as he answered.

'Welshman, what else would I practice on?'

'Really?'

'No, not really. You try saying Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch with your mouth full and what do you think it would feel like...?'

Jonathan lifted his shaggy head to look into Gethin's eyes. The puzzled look was enhanced by a thoughtful silence; from the small movements of Jonathan's head, the working of his mouth, Gethin was pretty sure he was trying it out in his imagination...

'No...?' he said presently.

'No, sorry, teasing. Just naturally talented, p'raps.'

'I'll say. Hmm... we seem to have something going on here...' Jonathan's hand stroked slowly and gently over Gethin's body. 'D'you know, I'm pretty sure I can think of something better to do than spoil the sheets... just... hold that thought a moment...'

He reached beyond Gethin towards the dressing table, rolling over him as he stretched across to rummage in one of the drawers, took something out, fiddled with it and then took hold of Gethin again; his hand now was slippery, and his long, slow strokes made Gethin gasp as the lubrication was transferred to him, heightening his sensitivity.

'Steady on...'

Jonathan smiled and rolled lazily onto his front.

'Jonathan?'

'Seeing as how you put me first, and it was lovely – even if you don't practice on leeks – and you said, it isn't going to be every time... but... it'd be nice, do you think?'

And it was wonderful, to lose himself in Jonathan's body, to hold so close against him and in him, and feel the heat and tightness, to be a part of him, share his gasps and sighs and it wasn't going to last nearly long enough, he was rushing towards it, and oh.

Oh.

Well.

'And you called me a screamer?' Jonathan asked, cuddling. 'My turn next time. We'll see then who the real screamer is.'

Gethin smiled against Jonathan's chest.

'Oh, going to be a next time, is there?'

'Bloody well hope so,' Jonathan told him. 'Is that coffee still hot, do you think?'