Tim was already pretending to be asleep when I finally plucked up the courage to go to bed. I made a show of treading as softly as possible around the room as I undressed and put on pyjamas. My nakedness was unwelcome under the sheets at times when Tim was not pleased with me. On other occasions it would be met with an audible huff from the 'sleeping' form next to me.

I set my glasses on the nightstand and shuffled my way under the stifling warm duvet; already warmed because Tim is a like a human radiator. I clicked the lamp off that he had left on and I felt the minute movement of the covers as he tenses.

"Are you awake," I ask as per our usual fighting routine. He will respond with silence, I will sigh and attempt to sleep.

"Yes."

That's new.

"Oh, sorry," I say. "Did I wake you?"

It comes out sounding insincere and I wish I could put them back in and try again.

"No, I was awake. Been thinking."

He turns to face me in the semi-darkness and the shadows play off his cheekbones and his long slender nose. God I love that slight curve to his nose. His face is annoyingly symmetrical and it's something that comes into my head every time we make love. I'm the one with the nicest view.

"You want to talk," I ask as I reach out a hand to him. He doesn't pull away but instead shuffles into my outstretched arm so that he is hugging me. My heart melts. I kiss his hair and squeeze him tighter to me.

"I was just really fucked up back then. I know it hasn't been that long but I see things differently now and I don't know why I did the things I did. Or why I said that about Emily. I'm just sorry I keep dragging you into my mess. You don't deserve it," he says earnestly. I'm glad of the darkness now so he can't really see my expression.

"There was just some stuff I needed to let go of, you know? Stuff that was building a resentment inside me and I just had all these walls I didn't want anybody to get past. I screwed Emily over and I didn't want to admit that I was wrong, that I was a horrible person for how I treated her and," he pauses to cough. "I don't know. I just want to be different now. Better."

I contemplate saying something like, 'that's hardly a reason to pretend someone killed themselves' and then I'm annoyed at myself because I can see how much Tim is trying.

"It's okay," I say soothingly and stroke my hand along his back because he isn't wearing a pyjama top. Perhaps the standoff wasn't as chilly as I first thought.

He surprises me with a kiss. But not the usual kind of kiss from Tim. Not the passive, 'I want you to kiss me' kiss. An initiated one. One with fervor and passion. I find myself groaning involuntarily and then I can practically feel the little smirk play out across his lips. Oh yes Mr Cornish you know what you do to me.

His hand starts to trail his way down my abdomen and I almost shiver despite Tim's radiating heat. He presses flush against me and I am surprised that he is already hard. Usually it takes a lot to get his interest.

"You want to fuck," he whispers naughtily. I note the absence of the word 'me'.

"Always," I laugh. "With you, always."

I feel like a teenager again as he lays on top of me and we make-out. There is no other word for it. Lust. Love is probably in there somewhere. Affection too probably but right now that curve to his nose and those cheekbones have ruined me.

"You know you're going to hell for this Ivo," he pants after I enter him.

I laugh. A free and happy laugh. What a hypocrite he is. Such a pretty one though. I kiss his neck, his arms, his cheeks, his eyelids. I kiss his chest and each finger on each hand. Ah, there's the love. Shining up at me in his eyes. How different he is from when I met him. I wonder what we would both be like had our paths not crossed. Had he not been a student and I the professor.

He gasps at first, it's been a while. His arms tighten around me and his breathing in my ear is the sweetest aphrodisiac.

"More," he says quietly. I happily oblige. For the sake of dignity and for the neighbours we are being quiet but that only helps to make him so much more endearing. The look of suffering on his face as he tries to contain the feelings building inside him. This feeling is pure ecstasy for me. I love him. With all my heart I love him and when he says I don't deserve this I feel exactly the same way but for different reasons.

"Ivo," he whines, his hand on my chest feeling my hammering heart-beart. The blood that has managed to not travel south is pounding in my ears and I brush my lips against his as I help bring him to his climax, following shortly after. For once I don't give a damn about messiness and I simply entwine myself with him and close my eyes. We lay together and every now and then I brush my lips against his temple, his cheek as far as I can reach. His fingers dance across my stomach and his hair tickles my neck. He is perfect. So perfect.

"It was common Athenian practice for a man to take a boy as his lover," he says sleepily.

I smile to myself. I bet he thinks I don't know about those novels he keeps hidden in his sock drawer. Foolish boy. If there is a chance at fulfilling one of his fantasies I am capable of doing some research.

"Oh," I ask politely. "Is that so?"

"Mmhmm. For the purposes of education and such."

I laugh inwardly when he uses the phrase 'and such'. In my mind he is still that naive little undergrad with a cocky swagger and cheeky smirk.

"And such?"

"Namely fucking. They put it down to women being inferior and all that. That they were training young boys for marriage."

"How very interesting. Shall I throw on a toga and throw you down on the tiled floor?"

He chuckles.

"I'm just saying. It's called Pederasty."

"Hmm, you fancy yourself as my youthful love, my erotic muse, is that it," I tease. He nudges me in the ribs.

"Wisdom and beauty brought together," he says jokingly.

"Or the beautiful and the damned," I correct him.

"But surely we are beautiful because we are damned," he quotes at me.

"Don't you mean doomed?"

He stays silent.

"Go to sleep," I tell him. He lets out a little huff.

"My most precious and beautiful Timothy," I say to appease him. "My love burns for you greater than all the candles in the great temple. Stronger than every poor man's prayer and every rich man's fortune. May the gods forever grant me the good fortune of gazing upon your features so divinely carved that even Aphrodite should weep in your presence," I quote at him.

Oh how I love his shocked face.