Jack walked around in a daze after that kiss, like he had gotten fantastically lucky and didn’t really know why, and Theo rolled his eyes at him, terribly pleased and trying to hide it, and he instructed Jack, “Get it together, Gardner, and book us a hotel somewhere.”

They got the bridal suite at the Metropole Hotel.

Cork was different, in some ways, and so similar in others. College kids still crowded into every pub, huddling on the pavement in the December chill, smoking and laughing and making spectacles of themselves, and when they drove past them in the back of a black cab, Theo looked out and grimaced. “Were we ever that young?”

“We’re still young. Young enough.”

Theo smiled at him, his secret smile not so secret anymore. “I suppose,” and he kissed him.

In the hotel room, Theo fell back onto the plush mattress, feet still on the floor, closing his eyes and stretching. Jack stood between his legs, pulled off one of the snug sweaters that Meg had chosen for him.

“Do you wanna go dancing?”

Theo gave him a withering look.

And then his eyes widened as he took in Jack’s fitted shirt, trousers with the top button already undone. “I think not.”

Jack fell on top of him, breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

They undressed each other, slow and careful like they both might break, and maybe Jack had gotten a little softer (but just a little) and he could practically count the ribs on Theo’s torso (he still didn’t eat enough, most of the time, and Jack would have to fix that) but fuck, it was still them. Still so rough and tender and perfect, the way they fit, and they slipped into the tub, Theo resting in Jack’s arms, and it was overwhelming, and Jack got the giggles, which seemed unfair for a man approaching his forties.

“What are you laughing about, Gardner?”

Jack wrapped his arm around, taking up Theo’s cock, moving with just the right amount of pressure. “Just remembering that last time in the bath, when you—”

“Don’t say it,” and, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not.”

“But—oh, fuck—you can keep doing that, if you like.”

“Still turned on by baths, hmm?”

“Well...” A broken moan. “It might have something to do with you. Maybe.”

Jack kissed his ear. “Good.”

The towels were fluffier, somehow, and the dark of the night was more profound, and they were slippery with oil, and Jack laid Theo out on the duvet, face against the pillows, drew his hips up and back—

“Oh God.” Jack licked, gentle, around Theo’s entrance, and pressed his tongue in. “Fuck, Jack.”