DANY WOKE the next morning to the comfortable rumble of Brad’s snoring figure in his arms. The sun was beginning to warm the tent and he edged closer around the back of his boyfriend’s crescent-shaped sleeping figure. This was arguably his favorite part of their relationship, when all that mattered was the fact that they were destined to spend at least one more day together. He pressed his nose into the soft, dark hair in the nape of the neck in front of him and breathed deeply. How familiar his subtle scent had become, and Dany realized with intense clarity that he never wanted to be without that. He, in fact, didn’t know how he’d live without it. Their six years together had been punctuated with both times of smooth sailing and turbulent seas. Despite the highs and lows, he knew there could never be another he loved as much as he did Brad, and he had no intention of giving him up. That was the very challenge that lay before them now, like a precarious tightrope that must be walked. The way Dany saw it, opening their relationship was simply an entré into a minefield, one that would be very hard to turn back from. He simply loved Brad far too much—too much to lose him and simultaneously too much to not give in to his desire. He was smart enough to see past the blinding intensity of his emotions, to be rational. If he were to not even entertain the notion of opening their relationship, he would run the risk of Brad getting what he needed anyway and not telling him, or worse, simply leaving him. At least by walking into the minefield together, Dany had a chance—albeit from his standpoint a slim one—of walking out on the other side with their relationship intact. And what was the big deal anyway? He was mature enough to separate love from sex. If it meant being with Brad or losing him, then his mind was made up. He snuggled in closer and kissed the back of his boyfriend’s neck, “Morning, babe.”

“Not yet,” Brad moaned, pulling the sleeping bag up under his chin.