Page 105 of Ethan

“Charlie’s watching this show.” Ethan gestured at the screen. “It’s not great, but you might like it?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “You think I’d likeThe Vampire Diaries?”

“Well,no,” Ethan said, barking out a laugh. “But I’m trying to find something we wouldn’t mind missing, so we can make out a little.”

A little or a lot—Hank was okay with both.

“Sure, put it on,” he said and slung an arm around Ethan’s shoulders, tugging him against him the rest of the way.

They made it ten minutes into the first episode before Ethan’s head tipped over onto his shoulder, his curls brushing Hank’s cheek, soft and sweet-smelling. He tucked a hand into them and Ethan nearly purred, like a cat.

“You know,” Ethan said, twisting and tilting his head a little so he could look at Hank, “all fall, this was all I really wanted. To justbe. Like hanging out together, on the couch, watching one of Charlie’s stupid shows.”

“Are they all stupid?” Hank asked, because that was easier to get out through the lump in his throat than,Me too. Feels like I’ve been craving just this, too. Forever.

“Um, pretty much. And you know, Max watches themallwithout complaint.”

Itwasa really stupid show; kind of interesting, Hank supposed, from a sociological angle, that vampires who were powerful and immortal apparently wanted to spend all their time around dumb teenagers. But even if it was stupid, Hank got why Max always agreed to sit through it. He’d watch paint dry if he could feel Ethan’s warm weight against him, the smell of his hair in his nose.

“Well,duh,” Hank murmured into Ethan’s hair, squeezing him in that much tighter. They’dnevergotten to do this. Not really. Not while they’d both known what this was, but more importantly,acknowledgedwhat this was.

They’d watched TV and movies and game tape together on Barney’s couch some in September. But not cuddled up like this, even though Hank had wanted to.

He’d let his fears hold him back then, and maybe he was letting his fears hold him back now.

It wasn’t just that Ethan was a guy, though he was, and Hank didn’t have any experience—because Ethan didn’t either—it was that Ethan wasserious. Serious in a way that Hank had never felt before.

And that, truthfully,waskinda scary as shit.

Hank thought they were almost through the episode, though it felt like he’d actually barely taken in what was on the screen, too focused on working through his own overthinking and then just enjoying the feel of Ethan like this, before he finally gave in.

His hand tightened in Ethan’s hair and he tugged him gently to where he wanted him. Pressed his mouth to Ethan’s.

Ethan groaned into the kiss, like he’d been wanting it, been expecting it. But it didn’t feel impatient. Or like he’d been waiting too long.

It started slow and tender and a little tame, like they were still just feeling each other out. And they were, Hank realized. They hadn’t kissed enough times to really know each other yet.

They’d get there, eventually, Hank knew, and that was the moment he finally understood what Ethan had been saying. Theywouldget there. There was no reason to rush, no reason to worry, no reason to push past either of them feeling uncomfortable.

He knew Ethan liked him, and he sure as hell liked Ethan.

Hank could just . . .relax.

Enjoy the way Ethan’s lips felt moving against his. The way the muscles in his broad shoulders tensed and then released as Hank stroked them with one hand. The soft, easy, hot way Ethan’s body went pliant as he tilted his head exactly where he wanted it, a better angle so he could slip his tongue into Ethan’s mouth.

Ethan groaned into his mouth a little as the kiss grew more and more heated. Hank tipped him backwards against the couch and kissed him deeper.

“So good,” Ethan murmured, breath coming out in hot pants. Hank kissed him again, fingers winding more forcefully through his curls. When he pulled a little more, Ethan arched into him, like he couldn’t even help it.

And there was something incredibly addictive to slowly getting to learn all of Ethan’s tells. He’d gotten to know the distant version of Ethan. The text version. Even a version on FaceTime. But it wasn’t the same as leaning over him, touching and kissing him. So many thoughts and theories had gone through Hank’s brain over the last eighteen months, and now it was time to finally test them all.

Ethan’s fingertips dug into Hank’s shoulders and his hips stuttered again, his cock obviously pushing up against Hank’s. He was making these needy little gasps against Hank’s lips, and Hank tugged harder on his hair.

It was still just kissing—a pretty hot and steamy makeout, sure, but only kissing at this point—but the thought crossed Hank’s mind that he wasn’t going to want to keep it there.

He’d thoughtmaybe. But this road only really had one ending, no matter how much of a meandering scenic route they took. Hank had thought maybe when it came down to it, he’d still feel weird. But now he only felt flushed. Not with want, but withneed. And if they were going to do something about that need, he wasn’t doing it on his captain’s couch. In his guest room, sure, butnoton his couch. Not after the whole sex-on-Barney’s-couch thing. That had been almost an accidental slide down a slippery slope, but this he could be deliberate about.

Hank lifted his head. Stroked Ethan’s scalp beneath his fingertips. “You wanna go to my room?”