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homomenhommes · 1 month

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … March 16

The first day of the Bacchanalia in ancient Rome. Introduced into Rome from lower Italy by way of Etruria (c. 200 BC), the bacchanalia were originally held in secret and only attended by women. The festivals occurred in the grove of Simila near the Aventine Hill on March 16 and March 17. Later, admission to the rites was extended to men, and celebrations took place five times a month. According to Livy, the extension happened in an era when the leader of the Bacchus cult was Paculla Annia — though it is now believed that some men had participated before that. In Empires of Trust: How Rome Built — And America Is Building — A New World by Thomas Madden, the author cites the words of the scandalized contemporary Roman investigative consul in his report to the Roman Senate:

"There was no crime, no deed of shame, wanting. More uncleanness was committed by men with men than with women. Whoever would not submit to defilement, or shrank from violating others, was sacrificed as a victim. To regard nothing as impious or criminal was the sum total of their religion. The men, as though seized with madness and with frenzied distortions of their bodies, shrieked out prophecies; the matrons, dressed as Bacchae, their hair disheveled, rushed down to the Tiber River with burning torches, plunged them into the water, and drew them out again, the flame undiminished because they were made of sulfur mixed with lime. Men were fastened to a machine and hurried off to hidden caves, and they were said to have been taken away by the gods. These were the men who refused to join their conspiracy or take part in their crimes or submit to their pollution."

In 1984 gay philosopher, activist and historian, Arthur Evans directed a production of The Bacchae at the Valencia Rose Cabaret in San Francisco of his own new translation, from the ancient Greek, of Euripides' play, Bakkhai, dealing with the Greek god Dionysos. In 1988, this translation, together with Evans' commentary on the historical significance of the play for gay people and women, was published by St. Martin's Press in New York under the name of The God of Ecstasy.

Seventeenth-century North American depiction of a fornicating Puritan couple

1680 – Legislators of New Hampshire pass the colony’s first capital laws, copied almost word for word from the Plymouth laws of 1671: If any man lie with mankind as he lies with a woman; both of them have committed abomination; They both shall surely be put to death: unless one party were forced, or were under fourteen years of age. And all other Sodomitical filthiness shall be severely punished according to the nature of it.

1822 – Rosa Bonheur, nee Marie-Rosalie Bonheur (d.1899), was a French painter, animalière and realist artist, one of few female sculptors. As a painter she became famous primarily for two chief works: Plowing in the Nivemais (in French Le labourage nivernais, le sombrage ), which was first exhibited at the Salon of 1848, and is now in the Musee d'Orsay in Paris depicts a team of oxen plowing a field while attended by peasants set against a vast pastoral landscape; and, The Horse Fair (in French Le marché aux chevaux ), which was exhibited at the Salon of 1853 (finished in 1855) and is now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in New York City.

Bonheur is widely considered to have been the most famous woman painter of the 19th century. Writers used to explain Bonheur's penchant for dressing in men's clothing by saying that the famous painter of animals needed disguises to paint unmolested in the markets she frequented for her subjects. It's a nice thought, but untrue. Rosa Bonheur, who lived together with Nathalie Micas for most of her life, dressed as a man because she wanted to. She drank, she smoked, she became one of the most popular painters in the world and a member of the French Legion of Honor. She was, in short, very much her own person. As she once said to a male friend who was concerned about her movement through the world of men (gasp!) unchaperoned, "Oh my dear Sir, if you knew how little I care for your sex, you wouldn't get any ideas in your head. The fact is, in the way of males, I only like the bulls I paint."

1937 – Today is the birthday of American pianist and composer David Del Tredici. Born in Cloverdale, California, he studied at Berkeley and Princeton.

Much of his early work consisted of elaborate vocal settings of James Joyce: I Hear an Army; Night Conjure-Verse; Syzygy; and a decade long obsession with the work of Lewis Carroll (Pop-Pourri, An Alice Symphony, Vintage Alice and Adventures Underground, and Final Alice, to name just a few of these works). He was awarded a Pulitzer prize in 1980 for In Memory of a Summer Day, the first part of Child Alice. Sir Georg Solti made the first recording of his epic Final Alice with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.

Del Tredici detached himself from Carroll to write three large, dissonant works for orchestra, March to Tonality (1985), Tattoo (1986), and the threatening Steps (1990). However, the real turn in his career came in 1996, when he attended a workshop in gay sexuality and self-acceptance held by Body Electric, a national organization devoted to such workshops.

During that workshop, he set two overtly gay poems for voice and piano. This led to the composition of a number of songs based on gay texts and experiences. After attending that retreat for gay men, Del Tredici decided to integrate his sexuality into his work. For instance, a setting of Paul Monette's "Here" was dedicated to Del Tredici's lover Paul Arcomano, who died of AIDS in 1993. When he encountered Beat-era icon Allen Ginsberg at a conference, as he later related to The Advocate, Del Tredici told the poet, "I'm looking for something really dirty to set to music." Ginsberg responded by giving Del Tredici his Collected Poems, one of which, "Personal Ads," became part of a six-song cycle, Gay Life. "Personal Ads" was dedicated to gay activist Jody Dalton, director of Composers Recordings Inc.; and a setting of Thom Gunn's "Memory Unsettled" was dedicated to Del Tredici's mother, who died in 2000, and who had accepted her son's life choices. Gay Life also included poems from Paul Monette, Michael D. Calhoun, and W.H. Kidde.

These songs became the core of the cantata Gay Life (1996-2001, premiered by the San Francisco Symphony under Michael Tilson Thomas in May 2001). A related collection is Brother (1997-2001), a song cycle created with drag performance artist John Kelly, which premiered at P.S. 122 in New York in May 2001.

"I no longer want to pretend and I'm not sure what the repercussions might be," he told The Advocate. "I can survive and be a serious composer and be gay. It has fallen [to] me to do it. One generation's silence can become the next generation's nectar."

His later works have included many vocal settings of contemporary poets such as Allen Ginsberg, Thom Gunn, Paul Monette, James Broughton, Colette Inez, and Alfred Corn — often celebrating a gay sensibility (three examples: Gay Life, Love Addiction and Wondrous the Merge). OUT Magazine has twice named Del Tredici one of its people of the year.

His "On Wings of Song" was premiered in New York City in 2004 as part of the Riverside Opera Ensemble's 20th Anniversary Concert. His notable students include John Adams, Richard St. Clair and Tison Street.

Del Tredici met his life partner Ray Warman in 1999; the couple held their commitment ceremony in 2000.

Maccubbin (R) with partner Jim Bennett

1943 – Activist and former bookstore owner, Deacon Maccubbin was born on this day. Well-known as the founder and owner of Lambda Rising Books, Maccubbin has also been a supporter or founder of many gay Washington, DC institutions including youth outreach, media, the annual Pride celebrations, community social and business organizations, and the Lambda Literary Awards.

While still in the Army, Maccubbin became a gay activist, joining the Gay Liberation Front-DC briefly. In 1971, he took over a craftshop at 1724 20th St NW, turning it into the Earthworks tobacco and headshop. On June 8, 1974, Earthworks’ shelves of magazines and books became the core stock for the new Lambda Rising, one of the nation’s largest and most successful groups of gay bookstores.

As leader of the Community Building (a nickname from antiwar and counterculture days), Maccubbin turned the building into an incubator and haven for many new and struggling community groups, including the Gay Switchboard, gay youth groups, the Blade, off our backs, Roadwork, and many others.

Maccubbin was a founder and chair of the first major community group, the Washington Area Gay Community Council (WAGCC). In 1975 WAGCC launched the planning process for the second gay community center and published Just Us, the first guide to DC’s gay community. That same year, Maccubbin organized the first official Gay Pride, held on 20th St NW in front of the building.

In the 1973, he was arrested with Cade Ware and Bill Bricker from Gay Activists Alliance at a sit-in protesting police entrapment. His protests and civil disobedience continued during the 1980's in response to federal inaction on AIDS research and funding with an arrest at the White House, and in the 1990's in response to Clinton's signing the Defense of Marriage Act, as well as additional arrests at protests against apartheid at the South African Embassy and against the Pope at Catholic University.

Maccubbin has played important roles in the reform of D.C.'s sodomy law, passage of the D.C. Human Rights Act, and in responding to Bible-based attacks on homosexuality.

In 1982, he and his life partner, Jim Bennett, were among the first to celebrate a Holy Union and they were the second couple to be registered as Domestic Partners in the District of Columbia.

In 2003, Deacon saved the Oscar Wilde Bookshop in New York City (which had inspired him to launch Lambda Rising) from closing. Maccubbin commented, "The store never closed its doors. It was open right on through. Historically, that's important to me." In 2006, the bookstore was sold to a local manager.

Facing competition with online book stores, the store closed its doors on December 31, 2010. It was part of a spate of LGBT brick and mortar bookstores closures in the early 21st century, including the Oscar Wilde Bookshop in New York and A Different Light in Los Angeles and San Francisco.

1949 – Victor Garber is a Canadian film, stage and television actor and singer. Garber is known for playing Jesus in Godspell, John Wilkes Booth in Assassins, Jack Bristow in the television series Alias, Max in Lend Me a Tenor, Thomas Andrews in James Cameron's Titanic, and as Canadian ambassador to Iran, Ken Taylor, in Argo. He currently guest stars as Dr. Martin Stein on The Flash and stars as a regular on Legends of Tomorrow.

Born in London, Ontario, Garber is of Russian Jewish descent. His mother is Hope Garber, actress, singer, and the host of At Home with Hope Garber. He attended Ryerson Elementary School. He also was enrolled in the children's program of the Grand Theatre, and at age 16 he was accepted at a six-week summer theatre training program at the University of Toronto taught by Robert Gill.

Garber began acting at the age of nine, and studied at the University of Toronto's Hart House at age 16. In 1967, after a period working as a folk singer, he formed a folk band called The Sugar Shoppe with Peter Mann, Laurie Hood and Lee Harris. The group enjoyed moderate success, breaking into the Canadian top 40 with a version of Bobby Gimby's song "Canada" in 1967. The band even performed on The Ed Sullivan Show and The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson before breaking up.

He has worked in various American and Canadian films and television, including James Cameron's Titanic (1997), in which he used a Northern Irish accent to play the shipbuilder Thomas Andrews, and CTV's E.N.G. (1991-1993), on which he had a recurring guest role.

Other well-known appearances include Godspell (Canadian stage version, 1972, and film version, 1973) as Jesus, Sleepless in Seattle (1993), Annie (1999), Legally Blonde (2001), and Tuck Everlasting (2002).

He is most well known for his portrayal of Jack Bristow on ABC's show, Alias, for which he earned three Emmy nominations. He recently appeared on the now-canceled television series Justice on Fox and ABC's Eli Stone. His most recent TV appearance is as a mysterious character named "Olivier Roth" in 4 episodes of the Canadian science drama ReGenesis. He appeared in the third episode of the Fox series Glee as Will's father.

Rainer Andreesen and Victor Garber

Victor Garber has confirmed that he's a gay man and has been quietly living with his longtime partner, artist Rainer Andreesen, in New York. Garber first spoke of his relationship with Rainer to blogger Greg Hernandez, who pressed the actor to publicly confirm that he's gay after learning via Wikipedia that the 63-year-old star is partnered with a man. He asked the Garber if his partnership with Rainer had ever been made public, and noted that Garber seemed surprised by the question:

"I don't really talk about it but everybody knows," Garber told Hernandez before adding, "He's going to be out here with me for the SAG Awards." The handsome, happy couple have been together for 14 years.

On October 10, 2015, Andreesen announced on his instagram page that he and Garber were just married in Canada.

1976 – Matt Evers is an American pair skater, model and TV personality. He is the 1998 U.S. Junior champion.

With his partner Heather Allebach, Evers won the Junior pairs title at the 1998 U.S. Championships. The following season, they competed at three senior international events, 1998 Skate Canada International, 1998 Cup of Russia and 1998 Nebelhorn Trophy. He quit competing and moved to Los Angeles where he worked for a number of years before receiving an invitation to join Dancing on Ice.

Evers is currently training as a professional actor, model and spokesperson for U.S. and European manufacturers at trade shows, in commercials and print media.

Evers, who was married to a woman previously, came out as gay in January 2018 in an interview with Attitude magazine. He said it was partly the death of his uncle from AIDS and the presidency of Donald Trump that resulted in his decision to announce his sexuality publicly, saying: "I live my life by example, and I want to show young people that what you feel or how you were born isn't something bad."

1977 – Donal Óg Cusack is an Irish hurler who played as a goalkeeper for the Cork senior team. He is current Chairman of the Gaelic Players Association. (Hurling is a kind of cross between grass hockey and football.)

Born in Cloyne, County Cork, Cusack first excelled at hurling whilst at school. He arrived on the inter-county scene at the age of eighteen when he first linked up with the Cork minor team, before later lining out with the under-21 side. He made his senior debut in the 1996 Oireachtas Tournament. Cusack went on to play a key role for Cork, on and off the field, and has won three All-Ireland medals, five Munster medals and two All-Star awards. His brother, Conor Cusack, was an All-Ireland runner-up with Cork.

Cusack represented the Munster inter-provincial team on a number of occasions in the early part of his career, winning one Inter-provincial medal on the field of play in 2005. At club level he won one championship medal with divisional side Imokilly, while he also plays with Cloyne.

Cited by many as one of the most influential inter-county players of his generation, through his championing of the cause of player welfare with the Gaelic Players Association and his innovation as a goalkeeper, Cusack became the first openly gay elite Irish sportsman in 2009.

Cusack and team-mates in traditional salutory (and very homo-erotic) stance.

Cusack has made 54 championship appearances for Cork, more than any other goalkeeper in the county's history. He announced his retirement from inter-county hurling in March 2013 after effectively being dropped from the team.

On 18 October 2009, ahead of the release of his autobiography, Come What May, Cusack disclosed to the Irish Mail on Sunday that he is gay. In Come What May he writes:

I get more out of men. Always have. I know I am different but just in this way. Whatever you may feel about me or who I am, I've always been at peace with it.

The following was serialised in the Mail on Sunday:

Since I was 13 or 14, I knew I was a bit different. I hate labels though. That's the way I am. I live with it and I am fine with it. People close to me will tell you there were never any tears. There was never agony. I just know this thing … I've had to say this to people I'm close to again and again. This is who I am. This is what I do. I spend a lot of time trying to work things out but once I know something about myself, I know it. I don't agonise. It's logical to me. I thought about this but never had any problems dealing with it.

According to Cusack, discussing his sexual orientation strengthened his bond with his fellow players. He went for a walk with then captain Seán Óg Ó hAilpín, whom Cusack had known since they were boys, and told him "the whole story, stuff that I thought he would have guessed", had "a deep and complex conversation from both sides and we came out of it like brothers."

Since then Cusack has been noted as one of the few "openly gay sporting heroes" both at home and abroad. Come What May won the William Hill Irish Sports Book of the Year for 2009

1987 – A Louisiana appellate court upholds the solicitation conviction of a man for placing his finger through a glory hole in a bookstore and then placing his mouth at the hole, without saying a word.

1998 – Pope John Paul II asks God for forgiveness for the inactivity and silence of some Roman Catholics during the Holocaust.

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moon-silvered · 2 years

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Dancing in the Moonlight (All Chapters)

Pairing: Steven Grant x Telepath F!Reader

Wordcount: 21k

Tags/Warnings: Romantic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Telepathic Reader, Communication, Mature Content

Summary: A telepath senses an unworldly presence in loyal bookshop customer Steven Grant when he asks her out. Despite the presence, they proceed to get closer and closer together leading to the bedroom.

Also Posted on: Ao3

You don’t think anything’s weird with him the first time you meet Steven Grant. He’s another customer with a special interest in Egypt given the books he buys. Not unusual, especially not when you find out he works at the British Museum near the Egyptian exhibition. Makes sense he’d buy the books he does from a little bookseller and rare book procurer. The amount of money he dishes out for them is a little worrying, and you briefly wonder how he can afford it but it’s not your business. You really do try to ignore the mental nattering that goes on in most people’s heads. You had after all made an oath to not go snooping into stranger’s minds with your ability.

The second time, that’s when you think there’s something off. It was harder not to go eavesdropping with Steven Grant. It was like he was projecting his very thoughts. Or maybe, they were louder, it was difficult to really explain.

But it’s the third time, when you focus on his thoughts and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, you know for sure there’s something off with him. There’s something– someone else there. An undercurrent voice beneath his thoughts humming along. Not sinister, not benevolent, but wholly extraterrestrial and unhuman. It gave you a migraine to focus on it and you had to take your break early.

You all but collapse onto the fountain’s ledge, hand to your temple as you try to rub the migraine away. You’re shaking from the pain made worse by the cacophony of thoughts swirling in the square but it was better than the intensity of what-whomever you had bumped into in Steven Grant’s mind.

You’re staring at the ground when the aural distortions pulse and intensify as a pair of shoes stop right in front of you. You look up and he’s there.

“You alright? You look a bit...”

You’re trying very hard not to look, not to listen to what’s going on behind those eyes, behind that brow but it was like telling someone to stop feeling the temperature. Still, you grit your teeth and smile, imagining a coat on your mind to keep out the cold wind.

“Yeah, ju-just a migraine.” You helplessly stutter and then close your eyes, hoping that would help. It won’t of course. You knew it wouldn’t because it never has.

“Ah, I’m sorry. If you want, I c-can – I mean if you think you need it. I’ve got–” He fumbles as he pulls a Tesco bag from his other bag. You watch as he pulls out at first caffeine tablets – the kind people take to stay awake. You used to take them in your university days because they were legal, as opposed to the pharmaceuticals your American mates did to achieve the same. Then Steven pulled out a nuromol bottle.

“That’s convenient.”

“Was just at Tescos, yeah.” He explains and holds out the bottle.

You stare at it and decide it couldn’t hurt. Plus it might make him walk away faster and take whatever presence was in his head far from you.

You struggle to open the bottle, so he does and hands you a single tablet but you hold out your palm for two.

“Says to take one,” he explains in a sing song way, like he’s going to tattle, but he’s already tabbing one more out. You catch wind of a stray thought of his. One never works for me either, wish they’d give us the stronger stuff without a script. You get a mental image of him downing twice the recommended caffeine tablets to stave off his sleep.

You don’t say anything about it, instead you down the tablets and chase em with water. “Cheers, mate.” You fully expected him to walk away after that, but he lingers.

His fingers grip tight and loosen around his recent book purchases and his mouth moves silently as though he’s working himself up to say something. “I noticed you were reading– well I happened to glance at the book you put down when I came in, yeah? and see I work at the Museum near the Egypt exhibit-“

“I know.” You interrupt him..

“You do?”

“You told me.” You state but then quickly doubt yourself. Had he told you? Or was that a fact you picked out from thoughts he had in his head? You think it’s the latter now, especially as his face contorts into confusion. “I-mean I must have heard you mention it to my boss or something.” You wave your hand, trying to be dismissive. It mollifies him far too much. Why?

You regret it instantly, but you loosen the mental coat a bit to hear. Thought I lost time again. Your head swirls around that presence again and you wince away.

“So. I was wondering, if you’re curious about Egyptian gods, I could- we could- if you’re not busy- meet for dinner - or lunch. Yeah, lunch?” He manages out, second guessing every other sentence.

You stare at him, really stare and finally it clicks. You hadn’t even realized it, too preoccupied with the pain of hearing his thoughts and feeling the presence. “Are you chatting me up?” It’s a rhetorical question because as soon as you say it, you get confirmation from his thoughts in the form of: I should have practiced more. She’s probably already seeing someone. Along with those thoughts is a teeth chattering sinister breeze of that being – like it’s trying to push you away.

You would have gone fleeing, if not for the indignant rebellion that roared at whomever was in his mind that wanted you gone. And, though you’ll never admit this to anyone, the way Steven looked deflated like a kicked puppy.

“Sure.”

The puppy analogy was too spot on, because his eyes brighten and widen in surprise. Even his smile is infectious and makes your lips lift to mirror his. And oddly enough some of the pain ebbs away, though it could be the nuromol. You’d swear it’s the latter to anyone who asks.

You set a time and place at a little restaurant, not too fancy but definitely not a place to show up in ratty jeans. You do a bit of gloss and dab some eyeliner on for a smokey-eyed look but you wipe it away when you feel ridiculous with it on and say “Sod it” and go off.

It’d been years since your last date, you were out of practice. Not that you wanted to be well versed in dating. It was tiresome when you could hear their disingenuous thoughts as they tried to flatter you. Not to mention it was difficult to talk about yourself without hearing every judgmental thought cross their mind for everything you said, wore, and did. At first it made you self conscious, like you had to please them on every thought, until you got fed up, angry, and at times indignant.

For a time you used your ability to your advantage to get right into the sheets to scratch an itch, but that made you feel worse than when you took their passing thoughts to heart. So you didn’t do that again, at least not intentionally.

Steven meets you in the courtyard outside the bookshop with a bouquet of flowers. He’s got an awkward nervous smile that suits him. And you can admit it’s kind of endearing, especially paired with the way those dark eyes are glued to you as you approach. His gaze doesn’t do a body check, and instead they remain respectfully – gentlemanly – on your face. You smile brighter from that alone but all out swooned when the traces of his thoughts reach you. She’s beautiful. How did I ever manage to ask her with that smile? Always loved her smile, greeting me every time. I’m so lucky. Don’t muck it up. Accompanied by a nervous gulp.

You wish you could assuage his nerves, but that would mean revealing your ability. You hadn’t had the best luck in that. People didn’t exactly find it comforting when they knew you knew every thought that passed their mind.

You step up to him, mentally prepared for the pain of the foreign presence to try to push you away but surprisingly there was none. The presence was present; now that you knew to look for it. You weren’t sure how you never noticed it before whenever Steven came by. It was so obvious. Perhaps you never cared to look closer until he lingered longer than was prudent at your register.

You grab the bouquet and glance over the carefully picked flowers. You notice your favorite as a center piece. You look up to his expectant look. “These are lovely. How did you know they’re my favorite?”

“I smelled your perfume.” A second too late he realized how bad that sounded and winced. “That is-I mean you always have them in the bookshop, by your counter. You’re always smiling when you come in with a fresh bouquet. Not that I watched- I mean I did but only- ah.”

Ever the skeptic, you take a look in his head – fighting the presence. Memories flit by of him walking into the bookstore, watching you as you run the till, aggravated over annoying customers only to smell the flowers you kept nearby to relax. Then memories of Steven paging through flower books, to find the name of them, reading a book on flower language, then looking up and calling local flower shops.

The entire time you looked, the presence makes a go at you. They’re a torrential gust of wind pushing you away and you almost stagger but hold on until it finally wrenches you away.

You take a step back, breathless.

“Sorry, I know, it’s weird. I swear I wasn’t stalking- though now that I say it makes it sound like I did. But I promise you, I only happened to notice and you really seemed to like them and I wanted to get you something you’d like.” He rambled.

“Steven.” Your voice is soft and you step back toward him and place a hand on his arm over the sleeves of his jacket, in active rebellion against the presence. It roared, attempting to push you away again. And while it could from Steven’s mind, it had no bearing on your physical body. Except of course for the pain, but you could live through it tonight. Anything to spite the being. “I love them.” You reassure Steven. If he really was a puppy his tail would be wagging quickly with how enthused and happy he looked.

You walk to the restaurant together under the afternoon sun. Steven talks about the meaning of the flowers, which you already know from his mind but you let him go on as he explains the history and varying meanings and uses of the flowers he picked. Not in a showy mansplaining I-know-more-than-you way, but in a I’m-genuinely-excited-to-share-this-knowledge way. It was endearing.

As he talks about the things he found interesting in reading and researching it – his mind is resolute, confident. Yet shatters when you get to the restaurant, and Steven ceases talking.

“Oh my god. I’m an absolute git, I’ve been talking your ear off, not letting you get a word in.” He looks at you in horror.

“I like listening to you talk.” You pat his arm with a genuine smile. He returns it and the presence in his mind seems to withdraw. That was odd.

The hostess takes you to a table for two. Steven is quiet as he pulls out the chair for you. It makes you chuckle and you sit opposite him.

You order your drinks and platters. Steven orders from the vegan options, which you take note until you catch onto one of the ingredients.

“Oh that has peanuts.” You mutter, with a forced frown trying to hide a mischievous grin.

Steven looks up and blanches. “I didn’t think to ask. Are you allergic? I can order something else.” He is about to call the waitress back but now you’re smiling.

“Only mildly allergic. You can order it. Just means I definitely can’t kiss you later if I want to.” You’re joking of course. You definitely could kiss him later but you’d have to wash your mouth out. It was a joke that had the intended effect.

Steven’s mouth opens and closes in shock as his cheeks darken, throat bobbing nervously. “So-sorry wha- no I can-“ his voices cracks. “I can change the order.” He rushes out and then raises his hand to call the waitress back. You laugh and grab it, intending on bringing it down to the table – completely forgetting a cardinal rule to your abilities.

Never make skin to skin contact unless you’re ready. And you needed to be, especially with all the weirdness already with Steven.

The presence is sentient, bearing down from behind Steven. It’s tall, with a floating bird skull as a head and body dressed in strips of floating cloth bandages with gold moon adornments while leaning against a staff. And the pressure, that same gust of wind in your mind is howling, rushing at you like a tornado and you let go of Steven’s hand the moment that thing looks at you with a skull tilt.

Steven is looking behind him confused as you stare at the spot it had inhabited. “You alright?”

Does he not know it’s there?

You look at him and back to the spot, your breath heaving and you nod. “Yeah…um.” You grasp for an explanation. “Must’ve seen a spider.” It feels like a lame excuse, especially because you love spiders. But you do not want to have this conversation. Not on the first date.

Were you seriously going on with this date after seeing that?

With the way Steven looks at you, worried and hopeful, and the nervous insecure chatter bleeding from inside his head?

Yes you were.

The date gets better from there. He asks what interested you about Egyptian gods, and he’s flummoxed to learn it was him. There’s a moment where his mind spins about whether you did that intentionally to catch his interest. Sadly you reveal it was something you did to repeat customers, that if they were that invested in the topic – then it would make for good reading during down time. Which led to him asking what other books you read and which customers inspired it. Leading to a long list of stories.

“I read about em, so I have something to say when they come in.” You explain with a shrug. “Gets boring being a cashier, even in a bookshop.”

“I know what you mean.” Steven sighs.

You laugh. “You work in the museum as a tour guide! That doesn’t sound boring to me.”

Steven looks embarrassed now. “I…well, I auditioned for the tour guide.” She doesn’t know I work in the gift shop. His voice and mind has a sort of sound like wounded pride.

“Oh. Sorry I just…I thought.” You’re left without words. You hadn’t expected that he could keep that sort of information from you, or from his thoughts. Clearly he found it too embarrassing to even think about except when confronted with it. “You know what, your boss is a sodding fool for not taking you on then.”

Steven gives you a half smile.

You almost reach for his hand, but pause. “Just means we have a lot more in common. Both of us under appreciated and stuck on the till when we got so much more to offer.”

Steven huffs a laugh but nods. “More time to read, I suppose.”

“Or go on more dates.” You counter. Why did you say that?! You can’t take it back now. You couldn’t but want to see Steven in brighter spirits. And besides, he’s not bad. Friendly, knowledgeable, easy to fluster, and he was handsome too, in an insecure kind of way. It’s the way he holds himself, with hunched shoulders so he takes up as little room as possible with his gaze down and clothes that were high quality but clearly he felt uncomfortable in them.

“S-sorry…dates? Plural?” Steven’s eyes are wide with that shimmer of hope.

“Unless you don’t want to?”

Steven trips over his own tongue “I do! I mean I would love to go on anoth- more…dates.” He over emphasizes the s. You couldn’t help but laugh. It’s a boisterous sound, that has him grinning and then also laughing. And it’s like something is knocked loose in his shoulders. They aren’t so tense, they’re relaxed. I didn’t mess it up, like usual. I’m not a failure.

Your heart breaks a little for this beautiful man, to feel the relief in his thoughts. You decide far too quickly, you don’t ever want to make him tense up again.

After Steven regaled you about Egyptian tales that you had yet to read about, and you commiserate over your shared experience working in customer support, he walks you back to the bookshop. There’s a moment, a hopeful one from him. You know it’s about a kiss. He did end up changing his order for something without peanuts.

You hadn’t been kidding about giving him a kiss if it went well but you were faltering now. Kissing him would mean skin to skin contact. And you hadn’t touched him for the rest of the night on purpose. And the presence was still there, but it wasn’t pushing or throwing waves of mental gusts to get you to leave. But the very feel of it so close was difficult to bear.

If you kissed Steven, would you see it? You weren’t even sure what it was.

Still, you step closer. He doesn’t have to look too far down to meet your gaze.

“Thank you for lunch.” You murmur and he touches your hand. It’s intimate, more so than a kiss with the way his fingers lace with yours. The warmth of his fingers

She doesn’t have to kiss me if she doesn’t want to. You hear, clear as day from his mind before he says it softly. She was only having a laug-

You interrupt that thought by pressing your lips to his. His body is frigid in shock and then melts. It’s not a searing kiss, not the stuff of movies, and certainly not raunchy- they’re in a public square for goodness sake! Your noses bump against each other and he has to step closer to you aren’t craning your neck, but he’s smiling even with a close lipped kiss. It’s chaste, and sweet and he pulls away with an unintended promise and taste of more when he licks his lips and yours before.

You’re the one who is flustered this time.

“I-“ you’re swallowing and touching your lips with your fingertips, like you cannot believe you did that. “I had a lovely time, Steven.”

And then, he says your name. Only it’s different from all the other times he has this entire lunch date. It’s softer, vulnerable, and with yearning. You want nothing more than to hug him, but you don’t.

Later when you’re home, you feel completely exhausted. A migraine had worked it’s way up to your temple from the strain of the presence around a Steven. Because even in the kiss, it had tried to push you away, not that you paid it any mind. But now that you’re home you don’t quite care as you’re floating from the euphoria. You hadn’t expected to enjoy the date as well you did.

You pick up your phone and start to text but stop several times before committing to a bit:

You: I would like to submit a review on my experience tonight.

You watch the icon indicating he is texting start and stop repeatedly before stopping for a long time until an hour later.

Steven: Oh?

You roll your eyes, having a feeling he agonized over what to write back the entire time only to send a one syllabic response.

You: yeah. a little thing I wrote up just now.

Steven: Was there something wrong at the restaurant? Was it the spider?

You: nothing wrong with the restaurant. Want to read?

There’s a long pause in his reply, before a simply “Sure” came through. With a grin, you hit enter.

You: Went on a date with one Steven Grant, Pros: exceptional conversationalist, puppy dog eyes that make you melt, warm hands. Cons: not very food allergy conscious, kissing skill needs work. 7 out of 10. Would date again. Does management have any thoughts?

There’s a flurry of the icon indicating he’s typing popping up and disappearing repeatedly. Then he’s typing for a long time. Too long. You wonder if he’s writing a book or just editing his message over and over again. He seemed the type.

Steven: Thank you for your input. I will take it into consideration and review so I can better service you

Steven: ah, wait I hit send too fast!

You: service me huh? That’s some can do attitude.

Steven: that’s not what I meant!!!

You: are you sure? Because I’m down.

Steven: !!! You! Let me finish!

You laugh, imagining how warm his cheeks might be as you wait.

Steven: I will take your input into consideration and review so I can PROVIDE better service to you. At your earliest convenience when might we offer you a more satisfying experience?

You: I think a more satisfying experience isn’t necessary but a change in venue and activity might improve the rating. It is calculated in an aggregate, not average, manner. So how about a movie? Say this Thursday evening?

There’s a long, long time before Steven answers but when he does, it’s adorable and you press your face into your pillow with a girlish giggle.

Steven: If I sneak in the snacks, will I lose or gain points on my review?

You: gain, obviously. Sleight of hand means you’re likely good with your hands in other aspects. Or so I hear.

Steven: agshekt

Steven: sorry! I dropped my phone.

Steven: I will bring the snacks then. Meet at the bookshop after your shift?

You: keeping track of when my shifts are? Kind of suspicious there, Grant. Maybe you are a stalker after all.

There’s no answer for a long time. Not even the typing icon lights up. Maybe you went too far there and he was panicking. So you decide to have mercy on him.

Frowning, you type a few words, stop then decide to call him instead. He doesn’t pick up the first or second ring but he does on the third.

“Hello?” There’s a tentativeness in Steven’s voice and you can hear it.

“Hey. So we’re still on for the movies right?” You ignore your last message sent. You don’t even want to think of it.

“We are?” Steven asks and then sighs. “I thought maybe I went too far…memorizing your shifts.”

“My shifts are incredibly predictable, being one of two employees in the shop.”

“Yeah.” Steven mutters. You hear him shuffling papers.

“It’s kind of endearing you paid so close attention, though.”

“Is it?”

“Like the flowers. Which by the way are now in a vase right on my bedside table.”

“Bedside table? Why not the den? Or kitchen?” Steven asks.

“Because it’ll be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning.” You say softly.

There’s a sharp intake of breath and release before he hums around a smile. “Now I’m jealous of the flowers.”

“For what?” You prod gently, until you track back to what you said right before. Now you’re the one with warm cheeks. “You-” you stutter and choke on your words.

Steven’s muffled laugh comes through, like his hand is over his mouth. “I cannot believe I said that.”

“Nor can I!” You grab a pillow to shove your face into, as if it could hide the blooming heat racing up your neck to your cheeks and ears.

There’s a beat of silence before, “I-I think I need to hang up before I self combust.”

“Me too.”

Neither of you hang up again.

You grumble and catch the tail end of his laugh before you finally hang up first.

On Thursday, Steven arrived before the end of your shift. His mental mumbling rose above the cacophony of customers and passersby outside. You paused what you were doing to look toward the door as he entered, meeting his nervous gaze that quickly became surprised as he registered you were staring right at him. He gave a small wave.

“Hello.” Steven’s body was tight and rigid, shoulders hunched forward with nerves again. It bled into his thoughts. Second date. Second date! Can’t believe I made it this far. Remember to let her talk this time. Ask about her.

You smile at him. That seems to settle some of his nerves as you say, “I’m just finishing up. Give me a bit, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah yeah. I’ll just uh-I’ll…” he looked around the bookshop. “I’ll look through some books.” He stated it as though it was something new.

“What else are ya gonna do in a bookshop you plonker.” Your boss grumbled from the stacks. He’s a crotchety old man who used to do much traveling for book procurement, back before the digital age really took off and has caused the slow death of the print medium. “Mr. Grant, I don’t recall having a book on hold for you.” He pulls out his clipboard and rifles through several pages.

“Well no. Ya see I’m not here for a book.” Steven explains.

“The hell you come to a bookshop for then?” Your boss’s voice raises up, unknowingly yelling. His hearing was going. “Come to flirt with my cashier then? I’ll not have you harassing my staff.”

“I- what? No I’d never do- I wouldn’t. I mean I haven’t.” Steven flounders as he was thrown off. He looks at you, mouthing have I?

You cannot help but snicker and shake your head. But choose very much not to help and instead watch.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you making moon eyes at her for months.” Your boss carries on over Steven.

Well that’s something you didn’t know and hadn’t realized.

Steven’s mouth flaps open and closed, embarrassed at being called out.

“Not that she couldn’t do worse than you.” Your boss stares Steven down.

“I mean. We are going on a date.” Steven blurts out.

“What?!” Your boss exclaims and then quickly looks at you over the top of his glasses. “That true?”

“Yes, actually.” You admit, barely keeping a straight face. Your boss winks at you.

“Well then, lucky you Mr. Grant. However, just because you’re one of my best customers, don’t mean I’m letting her go early.” Your boss’s tone turns severe. At least it would be perceived that way to anyone who didn’t really know him. You knew better.

“Oh no! No-no no I wasn’t going to ask. I wouldn’t presume-“ Steven tried to explain.

“You girl!” Your boss points at you and uses his thumb to gesture to a stack of books. “Put those books away..”

“But sir, it’s not even closing-“

“Don’t be making excuses. You work until your scheduled time and that’s it. No ifs ands or buts. Now get to it.” Your boss barks, his arms crossed.

“Yes sir.” You grab the stack and head to the back of the bookshop.

Steven follows after you, even more hunched forward and with a grimace. “I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have come early. I-I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”

You say nothing as you continue walking past bookshelves.

“I had no idea he could yell like that. He was always nice with me, but then again I’m a customer. Usually. He doesn’t talk like that to you does he?” Steven asks and there’s a moment in his thoughts where he is indignantly angry. I’ll have to have words with him. That’s no way to treat your staff. Oh who am I kidding, I can’t even stand up to Donna proper.

Setting the stack of books in the back wall cabinet and locking it you turn around to look at Steven. His thoughts swirling from apologetic to trying to psyche himself up to defend you. It’s making your cheeks hurt from holding in your smile.

“I hope you don’t have too stay long. I mean the movie’s not for at least half an hour. Again, I’m really sorry-“ Steven attempts to apologize again but you don’t let him finish. You grab his collar and drag him down to meet you. He offers no resistance and stumbles into you. Your back presses against the cabinet and you kiss him.

He freezes above you, his thoughts empty as you tease his lips with a lick. With that he had his arse kicked into gear and he responds to you. He sucks on your upper lip slowly. Which is fine for you because you’ve had your eye on his bottom lip, with the way he bites on it while nervous or in thought. Your noses still bump and your teeth clatter when Steven gets a little too enthusiastic. It's almost awkward like he’s never done it before. You check his mind and your chest swells to know he really hasn’t done this before short of the kiss from your first date.

What do I do with my hands?! Where do I touch. Oh god…she’s so good at this.

“Oh Steven.” You moan and grab his hands, placing them at your waist.

That gets a very enthusiastic reaction from him and he pushes closer, grasping your waist tight against him. Then he bites your lip. Not hard but enough to rile you up - too much. You push him away.

“Oh god, I’m sorry that was too much. I shouldn’t have bit you.” He spills out instantly, eyes wide. You messed it up!

“If I didn’t push you away. We were going to end up doing a lot more than snogging in the back of a bookshop.” You hurry out, while fanning your cheeks.

Steven pauses to register that and a slow smile spreads across his face. Biting. Good to know. I’ll sear that to my memory forever now.

“Besides. I’m done. We can go now.” You explain and start heading for the front.

Steven blinks and his brows furrow deeply. “What? But I thought-“

“My boss was having a go at you.” You explain. “We don’t put the on-holds in the back until we’re done with everything else first.”

Steven looks at the cabinet you locked and then back to you. You can hear the gears clicking, the disbelief, and then he laughs. Short at first and then his body shakes with it and he covers his face. “Oh thank goodness.”

“Let’s go.” You grasp his hand and head for the front where your boss has taken your spot behind the till. He was looking up toward the curved mirrors in the corner on the ceiling. At your approach, your boss clears his throat and makes a mess of the papers on the wooden counter. “Oy! you were watching!” You accuse him with a mock gasp.

“Someone had to keep an eye out.” Your boss harrumphs and wags his finger at you. “I have half a mind to close up and act as chaperone with how you two got on like teenagers.”

“Oh stop being a codger.” You huff and grab your purse from behind the till.

Steven looks between the two of you, amused and jealous of the comradery you have with your boss.

“Hush. I’ve earned it at my old age.” He grumbles and then turns a critical eye on Steven. “What have you got planned then?”

You grin and nudge Steven.

“Oh-oh yeah- uh we’re going to see a film.”

Your boss frowns. “Bit of a shite plan for a first date. No talking and all.”

“Second.” You correct him.

“Second?!” Your boss’s wispy brows raise briefly before he opens a drawer behind the till. “Well then, you might need these.”

You’re inwardly groaning as he sets a box down on the counter.

Steven stares at it in alarm. “That’s-ah. Yeap those are rubbers, innit?”

“Bit slow isn't he?” Your boss teases. “You better take it Mr. Grant, I know how quickly you young folk go about with your courting. And I’d rather have you not knock one up in her before you’re settled.”

“Y-Yeah, Right. Yeah.” Steven nodded while still staring at the box of rubbers. Do I pocket some? How many do I take? If I take one…isn’t that sad? But if I take too many? Would that be improper? He swallowed loudly.

“Oh for heavens sake.” You swear and reach to grab a handful and stuff them in your purse. “Happy?” You playfully glare at your boss.

“Very." He winks. "Better if the woman has them anyway. Could never concentrate on the damn instructions right. What with all the blood rushing to-”

“And we’re leaving!!” You talk over him and drag Steven out.

Steven clears his throat and follows you. Your hands are grasped tightly for a block or two until you let go.

“Why does a bookshop need a drawer full of rubbers at the counter?” Steven asks with genuine curiosity. His mind trying to work out why. “Far as I know you don’t sell…well skin mags. Unless you do and I’ve completely missed a section of bookshelves on purpose.”

“We don’t sell mags of any kind.” You snort and smile. “But you have no idea how many widows who sell their late husband’s collection are desperate for any kind of attention.” You explain. “Not to mention some of the subject matters of these books can be...inspiring for those widows.”

“Wait so you mean…your boss…with the customers?” Steven’s eyes widen, flabbergasted.

“Not. Not with the customers.” You clarify. “With his sources. He was quite popular back in the 50s, or so he says.” You explain with a shrug. “We actually have a back room in the shop, for his private negotiations.”

“No…” Steven whispers. “You’re having a laugh. There’s no way…” Steven looks behind him back toward the bookshop. “Wait is that what that door was by the cabinet?!”

You cannot hold your laughter in at Steven’s amazement and morbid curiosity swirling around in his head.

“I will never be able to look at him the same way.” Steven says with both horror and awe. You cackle and field a few questions about the sorts of books you’ve seen while waiting for the tube.

You lapse into a comfortable silence, for you. But for Steven, inspired by earlier conversations and actions, his mind replays the kiss over and over. He mentally sighs, longing over doing it again and maybe even touching more of you. Your cheeks blazed hot having that constant reminder. Especially with what a simple kiss stirred in him.

It’s when you get on the tube, and stand by the doors, pressed close to Steven that you recognize there’s something missing.

The presence. It’s not there.

“Something wrong?” Steven asks you. He’s closer than normal so his breath tickles the tips of your ear and you huff and grab his hand, lacing your fingers tightly.

“No, just coming down from…our earlier excitement.” You explain.

Steven laughs softly under his breath and again the heat of it tickles your skin. This time the back of your ear as you sway with the movement of the bus. You’re almost distracted from why you grabbed his hand but you close your eyes and lean against him.

There’s nothing. No unhuman and wholly extraterrestrial presence. From where you could see, no weird visual manifestation of towering bird skulled figures.

It’s just Steven being a little louder in his thoughts than others.

Being this close to him and touching his skin, drowned out everyone else’s thoughts on the bus. It’s really the only reason why you were okay going on the bus. It was like wearing noise canceling headphones. You only heard his thoughts.

You sighed. You couldn’t remember the last time it was this quiet.

Has she fallen asleep standing up? She looks so serene, so relaxed. Must be from getting off work. I’ll wake her when we get to our stop.

Oh how you wanted to tell him it was because of him you felt this relaxed. Maybe someday.

The ride is short and you find you don’t want to step out of Steven’s proximity yet, but circumstances call for it. So you step off the bus, lower back tight as the thoughts of the crowd assault you.

It is barely a few seconds when the rush dies as Steven steps up to you, hand on your waist where unbeknownst to you, your shirt had ridden up and the side of his thumb brushed against the lace work of your pants and onto skin. It’s enough to make you shiver.

“Do you need to sit down?” Steven asks softly.

“Huh?” You are genuinely confused until you catch up.

“You look knackered, is all. Show’s not for another ten and we’re early, you could rest for a bit if you need.” He explains and then points toward a bench, leading you there by pushing on your lower back.

You shiver when his thumb brushes over your skin again. Your senses sharply attuned to what he was doing in the absence of other thoughts to hear.

You sit down while grabbing his hand and there’s a bubble and flutter of happy thoughts from him, about you actively seeking his touch. It’s infectious and you’re about to act on it when a voice interrupts the reverie.

“Oi-oi! Scotty!”

Steven’s eye twitches as a man walks up. The tenseness in his shoulders is back as he gives a half disappointed smile toward the man. “JB, it’s Steven. Remember. With a v.”

You don’t have to go looking for info. With your hands still clasped in his you get everything you need to know on the man. JB is a coworker at the museum where he is security. He frequently (as in always) gets Steven’s name wrong and spends most of his day watching cute otter videos and chatting up random twits that don’t know shite about Egypt.

Steven has mixed feelings on the man. On one hand he’s annoying, especially with how he still hasn’t got his name right. The other, Steven counts him as one of his friends even if it isn’t mutual.

The fact that it’s not mutual makes you frown.

“Look at you, bruv. Where’d you find such a fit bird?” JB asks with a too wide smile. His gaze is the exact wrong kind of gaze you want looking at you. You frankly don’t want to let go of Steven’s hand to confirm any of the thoughts you’re sure he’s thinking.

Steven sends you an apologetic look as he introduces you and tells you JB is his coworker at the museum. “We met at a bookshop.” Steven answers. You silently thank him for not saying which bookshop or where.

“Course you’d be into the swots.” JB jokes and slaps Steven’s shoulder. “Never could pull one myself.”

“That’s not surprising.” You mutter lowly. Steven makes a choked noise and covers it by clearing his throat.

By JB’s expression indicates he had heard you and was squinting one eye at you. “Whatsat supposed to mean?”

Bracing yourself, you pull your hand out of Steven’s to rummage in your purse. The silence in your head no more. Instead it filled with everyone else’s thoughts as they stepped in and out of your psychic space. It was like your personal space, but for your telepathy.

You focused on JB. “You don’t pull a swot. On the contrary it’s the other way around. You just didn’t notice.” You smiled sweetly.

Twat. JB thought with a glare.

How charming.

“Well how do you know if a swot is pulling?” Steven asked, trying to neutralize the silent animosity between you and JB. He was his coworker. You didn’t have to work with him.

“The easy way? They did something that specifically catered to your specific interests.” You say with a shrug. It took a beat for Steven to smile, an ‘aha! I got you’ look to his eyes. I knew it! You’re about to correct yourself before he gets too far with that thought when JB snaps his fingers.

“Hang on! Scotty, d’ya suppose Dylan was chatting me up when she gave me that otter plush?” He looked at Steven.

A swirl of thoughts surrounded Steven over Dylan. A new hire as a tour guide as of a year ago, that Steven initially had been jealous of over her being hired for position over him. It developed into respect with her knowledge and then an on again off again crush.

“I dunno, maybe? Could be.” Steven shrugged.

JB looked off toward the distance with excitement. “Piss…shite!” He bounced in place on the soles of his feet, eager to go when he remembered his manners. “Right well, I got a call to make. You two have a-“ he made a gesture between them. “-whatever this is. Scotty, give me the deets in the morning, yeah?” JB gave Steven a chav like punch to the arm and then took off.

“Ow…” Steven mouthed and rubbed his arm.

“Nice friend of yours.”

“You think?” Steven asks. Really?

“He’s an absolute wanker. Can’t even get your name right.” You huff.

“Yeah, I keep correcting him and my boss, Donna, but it’s like it dun register ya know?” Steven explained with a shake of his head. “Well at least Donna gets it somewhat right. Calls me Stevie, but JB. No improvement. None.”

“Prolly a power move. Whitehall did a bit on that once.” You joke with a nudge.

“Come off it. No.” Steven squinted and then laughed. “What an arse.”

Giggling you stand up. “Movie is gonna start soon. We gotta find decent seats.”

“Yeah alright.”

You enter the theater. It’s not a proper one but a university one, showing an independent university film. There hadn’t been anything at the cinema to see, so over text you and Steven chose a film at the local University. The tickets were cheap but the snack prices were heavily inflated, as was the usual.

You heard Steven’s guilty thoughts about sneaking snacks in. You watch in real time as he hesitates and then buys a small popcorn. Matching him, you buy a medium drink and grab two straws.

The usher gives you the side eye, thinking you’re being tight. But you don’t care. Some people were on a budget.

“Good thinking.” You mutter to Steven as you walk to the theater.

“Sorry what? What did I do?” Steven asks.

“Buying something small so we’re less suspicious.” You whisper conspiratorially. “You did sneak some in, yeah?”

Steven shushed you as he looked around them, opened the door to their cinema. “Yeah, just a bit. Not a lot of options though. But I did make sure there weren’t any peanuts.”

“Expecting another kiss?” You tease into his ear before running up the steps.

“Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t say no to another.” Steven whispered loudly after you. You giggle at the memories flirting through his head of the kiss on the first date and the kiss just a half hour ago. “You want to sit all the way up there?”

“Yeah, course!” You wait for him to catch up and turn to him, leaning toward his ear to whisper. “It’s more private.”

“Yeh right back row it is.” Steven clears his throat nodding and takes the stairs the rest of the way two steps at a time. You laugh to yourself. He looks back at you, eyes twinkling when the theater goes dark and he hunches forward. “Sorry.” He says with a wave to everyone he has to slide past in the back row to the pair of seats he mentally headed for.

You follow after and sit beside him, ignoring the rude grumbling thoughts of those you passed, focusing entirely on Steven. The university’s theater department was well funded so the seats were the meagerly fancy sort where you could raise the armrest between seats. Which is exactly what you did without waiting and sat right beside Steven. He looked down at you amazed and amused.

“Look at you. Eager for that privacy, eh?”

“More like I want to know what candy you’ve got stuffed in your pants.” You breathe huskily to him.

Steven’s mouth dropped open in shock. His mind whirling in mild aroused panic. “I-i’m- that is. I don’t-” he choked.

“Snacks…Steven. Stop acting like I’m about to stuff my face in your crotch.” You poke his shoulder.

“Right… yeah. Snacks.” He laughed a sort of nervous sound and pulled at his collar. The top button coming loose as he then reached into his inner jacket pocket to pull out two small bags and a box.

“Are those…” you squint at the bright green packaging. “Caterpillar sours?”

“Yeah, you want some?”

“Oh I could kiss you.” You salivate at the thought of sour candy.

“Promise?” Steven asks, his eyes widened in surprise that he actually said that out loud.

“Cheeky.” You whisper but lean forward. Steven takes a sharp intake of breath and closes his eyes, tilting his head. Only for you to divert and kiss his cheek softly. “Greedy bugger.” You giggle and snatch the sour candies from him as his lips pressed tight, trying to control his smile and mock offense.

“Oh you’ll pay for that one later.” Steven mutters in a play at being serious.

“What ya gonna do?” You stick out your tongue as you grab a caterpillar from the package.

“I’ll bite that tongue of yours.” Steven growls. The sound of it and the confidence with which he said that surprises both of you.

The air is tense between you two and then you smirk. “I’d like to see you try.” You whisper and then are hushed as the movie starts up.

Steven shifts besides you once, getting comfortable. You try very hard not to listen to his thoughts about needing to readjust himself because of sudden tightness and try to focus on the movie.

The film is a historical based psychological horror. The students worked on the script well but were clearly limited by their equipment and production costs. Still, there was a good build up of tension that delivered with jump scares. Enough for you to instinctively reach out to grab Steven’s hand and notice that he was shaking. You turn and notice his eyes were closed, his mental chattering a mantra of: it’s not real. It’s not real.

Your heart broke.

“Oh Steven, why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like scary movies.” You turn to face him fully and pull him to face you.

“It’s alright.” His voice shudders a bit. “I hadn’t expected how…” a scream from the film has him flinching. “…realistic it’d be.” He smiled crookedly.

“Hey.” You press your hands to either side of his face, covering his ears and touching his temples at the same time. “Look at me. Look at my eyes.”

He mutters protest but does what he’s told. Another delivered scare has him wincing and you focus your ability. You haven’t done this in some years but you reach out psychically to his mind. You make it so the cinema fades away from his conscious senses. The sound distant, the light muted, and all that there is, is just you and him with your eyes as his focal point.

“Breathe with me, Steven.” You mouth but say in his head. He nods and follows your breathing movements. “Inhale.” you count and then release. “Exhale.” You do that until the tension in his shoulders releases and there’s a relaxed lift to his lips. His thoughts may be incoherent but at least they are pleasant. Soon his eyes droop closed and he starts to slump forward. Keeping skin to skin contact consistent, you shift so he is leaning against your neck and shoulders and is comfortable. You’ve settled in when you notice it. The presence.

Only it’s not just a presence, it’s a full visual manifestation of it again. And it’s sitting right next to Steven on the other side of his seat, on the top of it. It’s leaning slightly forward against its staff and staring straight ahead at the film. Its bird skull head tilts this way and that, and finally when a scream from the film drifts in again, you hear it.

A deep rumbling chuckle came from it. Such foolish beings. Do they not see the creature lurking. It gestures a hand at the screen and makes a noise, like a scoff before leaning back- languid and lounging.

You’re frozen in spot. You make no noise, no gesture. You don’t even try to change anything psychically anymore. But you stare at it and it’s talking. It was...watching the movie?

What was it? Why was it possessing Steven? You had so many questions and none of the courage to voice them. The only thing you did was keep Steven calm and sleeping. But eventually you’d need to stop, you’d get tired, or you’d need to get up off this chair.

You spent the rest of the movie starring as that thing watched the movie and reacted, commentated, and even criticized the intimidation technique like a critic - which was weird to say the least. When the movie ended, that thing sighed and looked at you once before disappearing.

While you’re no stranger to the supernatural, creatures of the night like vampires, werewolves, or even other enhanced humans like yourself, but this…this thing was nothing like that. Whatever it was, was far beyond anything you knew.

With it gone, you let go of your psychic link to Steven and released a shuddering breath.

You don’t know how long you sat there, but long enough Steven woke up.

“Oh my days I’m so sorry for falling asleep on you-wait...you’re shaking.” Steven touches you. “Guess the movie was scarier than we thought, yeah?”

You stare at Steven and nod mutely. He rubs your arms and offers his jacket when your teeth chatter. Your lack of movement for the better part of an hour neglected your circulation and now you were cold. Steven chattered away, talking about the parts of the movie he did catch and you respond best you can as you walk from the theater.

The original plan was to go to get dinner after the movie but you don’t think you could stomach anything after that experience.

“So…” Steven pulls you from your musings.

“Hmm?” You glance up and start, immediately recognizing your surroundings. “How did we end up in my yard?” You look at the neighborhood and then at a digital clock on the side of a shop. “We’ve been walking for an hour?!” You rounded on Steven.

“You seemed a bit shook and on auto, so yeah.” Steven explains. “So I just let you lead us. Didn’t want to leave you alone, not at this time of night. Though…with what neighborhood we’re in - I’m a little concerned in general.” This place is dodgy.

You bite your lip and stare at your hands where you still clutched his. No wonder you hadn’t come out of it sooner. Skin to skin contact with Steven was going to be dangerous if you go out at night. You’d never be able to hear dangerous thoughts coming.

“Thank you for walking with me…I guess all the way to my home. Not how I expected you to find out where I live though.” You laugh and wince up at the dodgy building that housed your flat.

“S’alright. Guess the movie was a bit much for both of us. Real sorry about that.”

“Hey now, no apologies. We both picked it. We just…”

“…seriously underestimated university students.” Steven finished with a puff of his cheeks. You had to admit? It did bring a little smile to your cheeks. “Will you be alright tonight?” He asked. Living in this neighborhood, how does she ever relax?

“Yeah, despite the movie, we did have a bit of fun.” You muse. “Next time though, no scary movies. Not even independent ones.”

“Next time?” Steven rose his brows up with hope and the corner of his lip pulled up.

“Well obviously. I mean, you drooled on me.” You shrug as though that was all the justification needed. “You’ve got to make up for that.”

Steven sputtered with a laugh. His head tilted forward and his curls hanging over his forehead making his already dark eyes into pools of warmth.

“Gosh you’re beautiful when you laugh.” You sigh wistfully.

“What?” Steven started, thrown off balance.

“Nothing!” You spin and head for your door but Steven strode after you and in a fit of unparalleled confidence stopped you and leaned forward.

He hung halfway into a kiss. Kiss her. Kiss her! I want to kiss her but…it’s not right. Not after that fright.

Surprisingly, he steps back with a content smile and you don’t chase him for one.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah?” You say and he nods. “Good night.”

You climb up into your apartment. You don’t take your shoes off, or your jacket - which is Steven’s you realize too late. You sit at your desk and eye your phone. Until finally you get his text.

Steven: made it! I’m knackered, so I’ll ask about my review tomorrow. Get some sleep, I think we both need it.

You: will do.

You frown at the simple response you gave and then add.

You: you left your jacket behind. Just so you know, I’ll be sleeping with it on, to help me fall asleep.

Steven: If it means you’ll have something to help chase off the nightmares, then I’m glad I left it. hope it helps.

You: it will.

You: also you didn’t bite my tongue like you said. So disappointed. ;P

Steven: look forward to it next time then, among other things.

Your face is blazing with heat as you stare at the message. It took him no time to send it. You set your phone down, then pick it up again, then down the finally you squeal into your arms with a blooming smile and your legs kicking the air.

You and Steven were on your sixth date. Not that you were counting and keeping track with mementos in a shoe box or anything. No never that .

After your second date, you had two dinner dates. One to a new middle eastern restaurant with excellent vegan options you got a reservation at. And another to a Spanish seafood place, after you offhandedly mentioned you had a hankering for paella. You felt bad because there wasn’t much in the way of options for vegan, and so dragged him to a food stall for him to get a gyro because you could hear in his thoughts how hungry he still was. You then made the concentrated decision to only go to vegan restaurants whenever going out with Steven. You can have meat at home.

Steven took you to high tea at Fortnum & Mason where there was an entire menu of plant based sandwiches and desserts. After one too many fluted glasses of their house Champagne, you spent entirely too long kissing - not snogging - outside your flat, playing with the idea of inviting him up. Ultimately he left, with the muttering about being under the influence. You had to agree, even if you didn’t want to. But you had very pleasant dreams that night and woke up to leftovers you carried out with.

In between each date were a handful of kisses, most of them chaste, numerous texts, emails, and late night phone calls. Once you both stayed up all night on a phone call.

But today, number six, you were having a picnic in the park.

It was a lovely Sunday with uncharacteristically fantastic weather for the time of year. You sat opposite Steven on a blanket in the park. He leaned against a tree reading a book, as you expected Egypt, this time on Anubis.

You had a sketch pad in your lap, attempting to draw a figure. Attempting to because the subject of your muse rarely stopped moving or vanished from your psychically enhanced sight when Steven’s touch lifted from you.

See you had removed your shoes, and Steven was absently rubbing the skin of one of your ankles above your socks while reading. He only stopped when he turned a page, with a calm relaxed disposition. Aside from the touch occasionally being distracting and sending gooseflesh across your calves, it facilitated the psychic connection and allowed you to see the bird brained figure.

You were calling it that because it seemed to move everywhere but where you wanted it to. Like a strutting pigeon ruining all your chess plans.

You huff and closed the sketchpad, fed up with trying. The bird brained presence was off near a street musician busking. It was bobbing it’s floating skull head and moving around gracefully through the people. It looked like dancing. Yet no one else but you saw it.

Apparently, it enjoyed horror movies and music.

“Finished drawing?” Steven asked looking up from his book.

You grumbled and threw the sketch pad toward your bags.

“Barely started. Never was good at it.” You’d been hoping to catch the writing on the presence’s adornments to do some research on what they meant. They were Egyptian hieroglyphs for sure but it was always difficult to get a clear shot of them. And without at least the whole string of them, you’d never figure out who the presence was and why it was possessing Steven.

Well you had a theory why it favored Steven, considering his enthusiasm for Egyptology. But you still wanted to understand what or who it was. And whether it meant Steven any harm. Which is sort of why you hadn’t told him. ThT and you’d look like a nutter unless you revealed your telepathy and you weren’t there yet.

“Aw no. Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you just need practice, yeah?” Steven encouraged, sitting up to grab the sketch book. You grabbed his hand instead and leaned forward to sit next to him.

“While I appreciate your confidence in my artistry. I barely managed stick figures.” You huffed, shifting and making yourself comfortable. Steven lifted one arm to wrap around you as you settled into his side. “Still reading about Anubis?”

“Re-reading actually.” Steven explained and showed you the book was highlighted with notes in the margins. “Been a bit since I read it. Anubis being one of the big ones and all.”

“That’s the god of the underworld right?” You ask, and he hums.

That’s oversimplifying it.

You pout. Maybe you should read up more on it. Perhaps being more familiar with it will help you translate whatever is on the pigeon’s adornments and get you closer to figuring it out.

“You know, when I was a kid. I went through a horribly cringey ancient Egyptian phase.” You explained with a stretch of your legs.

“Did you? I’m sure it couldn’t have been all that bad.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah it wasn’t inspired by anything in reality but by an anime.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me-“ he groaned. It’s got to be Yugioh

“Yeah…you probably guessed it.” He had. And you giggled as he covered his face.

“Why not The Mummy or Kane Chronicles instead?”

“After what Anne Rice did to her fans, I’d sworn off all her books. And I was very much in university by the time Riordan released those. And too much of a twat who thought herself above reading teen books.”

“Hang on.” He closed the book and squinted at you suspiciously. “Didn’t you say you read Twilight?” Steven poked at your logic.

“That is neither here nor there, Steven!”

“That was a teen book. Arguably far far far worse than Riordan’s. And you read it.”

“Steven!” You gasp. “It was a morbid sense of curiosity alright!”

“Then perhaps you should get a sense of morbid curiosity for the Kane Chronicles.” He shot back with a grin.

“Oh you would just love that wouldn’t you.” You huffed and crossed your arms. “Watching me reading and going all fangirl over it, and- and excited.”

“I would enjoy you being excited.” Steven said softly with a wicked grin.

“Steven!” Your mouth dropped open.

“Hush, you. We can’t have you screaming my name in the park. It’s indecent.” He tapped his lips to indicate you had to be quiet.

“I’ll show you indecent.” You growl and pull him by his collar toward you and falling back against the blanket.

He dropped the book to catch himself from falling flush against you and hovered over you, gazing longingly at you.

“Where’s that mild-mannered man I met months ago?” You whisper.

“S-Still here.” He gulped.

“Remarkably devious of you to hide behind such cocksure lines.”

“I wasn’t hiding.” He murmurs and leans down to whisper over your lips. “You just bring out another side of me is all.”

“Are you suggesting it’s my fault?”

“A bit, yeah.” He grinned and pressed his forehead to yours to stare.

“Well…” you sigh, angling your head to try to catch his lips. “Guess I should be flattered.”

Steven pulled away, denying you. “Say please.”

“Steven.” You warn.

His lips stretched up to one side as he firmly spoke, “Say. Please.”

“If you don’t kiss me right now I’ll-”

“You’ll what?”

You had no idea what you’d do. Because getting up and pushing him away was out of the question. You could say you’d just kiss him but he could easily pull back.

He almost called your bluff if it weren’t for his thoughts n

Say please. Please say please. I want to kiss you so much. I want to do so much more than that but kissing would be really great right now.

“Please.”

“Thought so.” He smirked.

“You did not just-“

He pressed his lips to yours with a throaty chuckle, silencing your affront. You didn’t stop him either, but let him mentally gloat in his victory.

He’d gotten better at kissing. He took it slower, and drank more of you in, melding against your lips, biting and teasing. His one free hand that wasn’t propping himself up cupped your jaw.

You slipped your hands up to the base of his neck and lightly scraped your nails against his scalp up into his curls.

Steven’s appreciative moan was music to your ears.

You parted when you needed to breathe. You were lightheaded and panting. His eyes were half lidded, yet unable to hide those dark brown pools of want and a deep yearning that were mirrored in your eyes from a look in his mind.

“Do you...” Steven began and then stopped. He hadn’t been thinking anything beforehand but now several ideas flitted past his mind. All of which involved his flat. Going back to his flat right then, then thoughts of his bed. No. No. Can’t do that. Gotta hide the restraint first.

Restraints?

You’d developed a hell of a poker face with your ability through the years. But even that thought was honestly not expected. He was sweet and easily flustered and able to deliver some cocky one liners here and there. But you never would have expected he had restraints in his bed. What sort of play did he get into?

“Do I?” You verbally prod, now very curious where this would go.

He swallowed and then pushed up and away. “Do you want to eat? And maybe sit more comfortably?”

Alright then, you mentally agree. Put a pin on that for now.

You sit up, looking at the odd angle you had ended up on. “Yeah, probably for the best.” You shift and scoot forward so you could lay down properly. While sat up you grabbed the basket, pulling out a bowl of cut fruits.

You were going to offer some to him, when his hand came around to sneak the first kiwi.

“Hey! I was going to eat that!”

“Too slow.” Steven taunted and stuffed the full piece into his mouth.

“Oh really? You want to play like that?”

Steven batted his lashes, in an attempt at innocence. Which was negated by his cheeks puffed out from the large kiwi morsel. “I haven’t-“ he chewed. “Haven’t the slightest clue what you mean.” He swallowed and smiled.

“Menace.” You hiss and then hunch your shoulders over the bowl to eat. But he reached over, trying to get at it. “Hey. No. Stop.” You giggle while moving the bowl away from him. You stuff two pieces of fruit in your mouth when you feel Steven at your back. You glance and he’s on his knees and then lunges, arms slipping around your waist to grab at a fruit - any fruit.

You wriggle, dodging his attempts with a titter of laughter. Steven whines and pushes his face against the back of your neck where he presses a messy kiss.

“Don’t slobber all over me!”

“I thought you liked my kisses.” He said between each peck.��

“I do, just not-“ your breath hitches when he grew bold and nipped your skin between his teeth. Not for long but enough you knew what he did. That stilled you long enough for him to sneak the bowl from you. “Oi!” Your cheeks burned. “That was dirty.” You raise a finger to him but mischief fills his gaze.

“Guess what else is.” Steven whispered.

“Your mind?“ You breathe.

“No yours.” Steven taunted and then pushed away, with the bowl of fruit held aloft triumphantly.

“You tosser!” You lunge for him. He laughs and falls back with you on top, not that he minded a bit.

You spent the rest of the afternoon like that. Kissing and feeding each other fruits.

The seventh date wasn’t planned. You had finished up meeting an old Uni friend who needed a contact on an obscure book. You decided on getting some chips from Just Chips when you heard his thoughts over everyone else’s.

Gus’ll love these new treats.

Given what you remember about him needing to hide a restraint, the thought piqued your interest.

Who was Gus? Was Gus a bird or a bloke? Was it weird that instead of being jealous of a potential playmate, you were more curious? Also, what was the treat?

You looked around instinctively and spotted Steven holding a bag while walking

Only once a day though. Mustn't over do it. He’ll have trouble swimming again.

You lifted a brow up. That didn’t answer any question you had. Only made you more confused. You followed after him, footsteps hurried and intended on sneaking up to give him a hug when his pace increased.

Am I being followed? No. don’t look. Keep going. Dun have anything in my pockets right? Shit my phone is in there. But if I reach for it, the pickpocket will go for it.

Steven’s shoulders tensed and he held the bag of his purchase in front of him.

Don’t go home. Try and lose them?

Slowing down to give him space, he looked to the store fronts they passed.

Reflection. Maybe I can see who it is. So I can report them.

Smirking, you follow just far enough he couldn’t see you in a reflection unless he turned more. And if he did that he may as well look back fully.

Stuffing another chip coated in curry ketchup in your mouth, you lick your fingers and then reach into your pocket. You’ll have to wipe it clean later but this will be worth the smudged screen.

You: I never realized how good you look from behind. ;P

You looked up and heard the ringtone for a text received from his pocket.

Shite . Grab everything. He fumbled and reached for his pocket to grab his phone. You watched in the reflection as he grabbed his keys and his wallet, which he plopped into the bag. He then opened his phone. His head jerked back, confused.

“What is she on about?” He said out loud.

You text him again.

You: turn around sexy.

A beat and Steven turned, the worried brows melted from his face as he saw you. You gave him a little wave.

“Damn near gave me a panic attack, luv.” He released a breath and touched his chest. Shoulders loosened as you stepped up to him, pocketing your phone in your shirt.

“Didn’t mean to. I just noticed you a few blocks back is all.”

“Why didn’t you call out to me then?”

“I was enjoying the view, thank you very much.” You defend. “And my mouth was stuffed with chips, so I couldn’t exactly call out.” You gesture at the cone in your hand. “Want some? It’s vegan, just so you know.”

“Are my habits rubbing off on you?.” He grinned and grabbed one. “Cheers.”

“Hardly.” You roll your eyes. “I still have meat. You’ll never change that about me.” You explain. “I just do it in the privacy of my flat so I don’t offend.”

“I imagine most people do it in private.” Steven lowered his voice. “Unless you’re an exihibitionist.”

You’re coughing, almost choking after hearing that come from Steven Grant’s mouth. You have to stop walking to hack and up the chip that almost went down the wrong pipe. Steven’s eyes are wide with mischief, lips quirked into the naughtiest shite eating grin you ever did see. He pats your back.

His mind a titter of laughter. Her face! Oh piss she’s coughing bad.

You heave breath in to catch up and stare open mouthed, gasping,“Steven Grant!”

He smirks and grabs a chip and continues walking.

“You coming?” It sounded innocuous but then he winked.

“Oh you naughty rascal.” You mutter under your breath and follow after him. Begrudgingly letting him have the victory, even if your face and neck were filled with heat. While other parts of you were a bit more damp than before.

There’s a few moments of silence as you walk alongside him, eating.

Invite her up to the flat.

You look up at him, and see he’s biting his lower lip. He catches you looking and smiles.

Everything’s clean and tidy for once.

You lick your lips as he watches. He’s gulping and then opens his mouth.

“So what did you buy?” You ask hurriedly, and then face forward. Why did you go and do that?!

“Huh? Oh! This is. This is for Gus.” He holds up the bag and you tilt your head to see the brand of an aquatic pets store.

“Gus…is a fish?” Well now that made more sense. Rather than what your gutter dwelling brain went for.

“My goldfish!” Steven beams.

“You have a pet goldfish.”

“Yeah, he’s a great pet. A one finned wonder.”

“One fin? A disabled fish. Was it a rescue or was the pet store mistreating their fishies?”

Steven’s energy could not have gotten more excited. “The fact you know that’s a possibility,” He whispers in awe and all but hums with unbridled joy. “Do you want to meet him?”

“Right now?” You ask.

“I was heading back to my flat before you were a sneaky tit and nearly scared me.” He goes on.

“Hmm. Alright. Plus it would make us even.” You counter.

Steven blinked with confusion.

“Six dates and I still don’t know where you live but you know where I do.” You point at him with a chip.

“Oh, yeah. That too.” He grins sheepishly. “I meant to bring you around before.” He starts but you wave him off as you catch reasons you already knew in his head. Dirty flat. Restraint in clear sight. Etc etc. then he throws you a curveball. “Six dates?” He smirks. “Are you counting?”

“I would love to meet Gus.” You interject pointedly.

“Avoiding the question, luv.” He sing-songs with a smug chuckle. “But it’s back this way.” He says and slides an arm around your waist to turn you around back the way you were walking from.

“Hang on! Did we already walk past?”

“I wanted to keep walking with you.” Steven admits sheepishly.

You grin around a chip. “You’re too sweet.” Steven beams.

Steven’s flat entrance is in a busy street with a broom vendor blocking his entrance from view on the street. It's tucked away from view already and if you didn’t know where it was it would be impossible to find.

As soon as he opens the door to the building you know the flat he has is going to be big. There’s a bleeding elevator in the building! Yours just has three flights of very narrow and very steep stairs you had to hike up and down every day. You’re folding the chips cone to throw out, fishing napkins from your pockets to clean your hands as the elevator goes up. Steven talks about Gus, and how he was a rescue fish that he nursed back to health and even had a little fish-wheelchair for him to start to help him build strength. He’s got his phone out showing you the progress pictures of the color returning to little Gus.

On the fifth floor, Steven takes you to his door. He pauses.

Did I clear the desk? What about the kitchen counter? Shite, I think I left my pants on the bed!

“Steven?” You poke him and he looks at you.

“Er…it might be a bit disorganized.” Not dirty, just a bit messy. “Just…uh wait one moment.” He opens the door, slips inside, pausing very quickly to kiss the mezuzah in the doorway then he rushes inside leaving you out in the hall. You don’t mind, because you close your eyes and reach out with your mind to track him. You get some of his neighbors’ thoughts but you ignore those.

Yep knew it. I left them. His feet pounded against the wood indicating his hurried movements around his flat. A plastic bag was opened, paper crumpled, and dishes clinked. “Almost done!” He frantically calls out. Start the kettle - start the kettle!! The tap turned on, water filling, then metal on metal clanked and he breathed. He took a moment to calm his breathing, rake his hair back and then he was walking back to the door.

You opened your eyes and retracted your psychic reach as he opened the door fully.

Still here. The breath he releases is relieved. “Come in.” He steps aside and you walk in with your hands clasped behind you. You don’t look at anything in his flat except for the back wall briefly. You were right, his flat is massive. It’s a studio but huge even for that. You snap your gaze back to him and spin slowly on tip toes to keep him in sight as he closes the door.

“So.” Steven says.

“So…” you pivot on your heels forward and back. “Where’s Gus?” You remind him.

Delight fills him and he points to the fish tank behind you and leads you that way. You hunch forward to look at the goldfish swimming happily. Steven moves to the other side of the tank looking at you.

“Isn’t he magnificent?” Steven gushes. “You see how well he swims with just one fin?” Steven points. The goldfish swims slightly toward him and then starts ascending.

“I do. Oh…look at how bright his scale colors are. Such a beautiful orange.” You coo and grin. This you didn’t need to pick from his thoughts. “No snails?”

She knows to look for that. Steven’s thoughts are swooning.

“Sadly no. When I first got him I kept going back and forth on getting him a little friend. I wasn’t sure if he’d stay as small as he was due to only having one fin. There was a decent chance that he’d get bigger. And I didn’t want him to outgrow a snail buddy and then end up choking on it when he tried to eat it.” Steven explains tracking Gus’s movements. The goldfish reached the surface to gasp its mouth open and closed.

Steven smiled, “Guess he wants a treat.” He stepped away from the tank to grab the bag he had dumped on the kitchen counter. You watch his reflection briefly then pressed one hand against the glass and focused on the goldfish.

When you were a child, fleeing the thoughts of your family, school mates, and neighbors - you spent a lot of time with the family pets. They were quiet. You couldn’t hear their thoughts around them or when touching them. Naively you assumed they had none to listen in on; that they were pure instinct. You were proved wrong on a visit to a zoo and encountered your first orangutan. You saw images of the orangutan's memories. You focused on it, far more than you would have had to for any human or humanoid without touching them. While the thoughts weren’t as coherent or interpretable to human language, you could get a sense of their life, their mood, their state of being. How much detail you could glean depended on the intelligence of the animal and how close to human interpretable information you could get.

Staring at Gus intently, you reached out psychically to it. You cut everything else off, even Steven, and made your whole world Gus’s. You mirrored Gus’s mouth movements and swayed to and fro like you were swimming - enveloped in oxygen rich water that filled your lungs.

Safe. Content. Fed. Clean. Healthy.

Steven came back into view.

Happy. Safe. Happy. Safe. Happy! Safe. Happy! Happy!

Gus’s emotions spiked, overwhelmingly so. Not hunger, or desire for food. Just happiness at seeing Steven. It was so much, it overflowed into you.

You broke the psychic connection with a small gasp. Bracing yourself on one of the wooden pillars framing the fish tank you avert your eyes from looking at Steven.

“I...once read…” your voice is soft.

“Hm?” Steven looked up as he opened the fish treats bottle.

“…some goldfish do that motion with their mouth, when they see their owner and are happy to see them. Not just because they’re hungry.” You explain as you fought off the dizziness and pounding in your temples from the focused connection.

Steven stands up straighter to look at you. He knew that already but was surprised that anyone who wasn’t a fish owner would know that. He was about to ask if you have a pet fish, but it died in his throat as you turned away.

“You alright, luv?”

You waved off his concern. You needed to sit down. You only meant to check on the fish’s well being. Not that you doubted Steven’s ability, but you were curious. Still it was reckless of you to have connected like that to a non-human animal without preparation. With animals, there was always a chance of an overflow of strong emotions that could infect you.

“Need to sit.”

Steven was next to you in an instant, guiding you to his desk chair.

“Here.” He murmured. “Let me get you some tea. The kettle is almost done.”

You hum and nod, not fighting him as he pushes you into the chair.

He brings you a glass tea cup with a little bulb at the bottom. It unfurled with the heated water, blooming into a flower and flavoring the water and air sweetly.

You stare in awe at Steven

Flowering teas - especially good ones - are difficult to find. Usually they’re a limited run and expensive for just four or five bulbs. And the kind you prefered you had to buy at Tea Palace and and were always a limited run. You mentioned it once in conversation. A warmth blooms in your chest. “You found a box of it?”

Steven who pulls up another chair. “Yeah?” He looks at you over his own cup. “You said you didn’t get to have it often. I thought- well I mean…If I ever had you over, it’d be nice to have something you’d like, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Seeing him look at you with genuine warmth and concern in his gaze, and hearing the consideration behind his actions again. After the flowers, after the dates, and this - it made your chest flutter. Like a heart palpitation. Or a skipped heart beat.

Blood rushed into your ears.

“Luv?” Steven got up, reaching for you.

“Um…” you set the mug down as your hands were sweaty. “I uh…” you press a hand to your chest, where your heart pounded hard. “I…I need the wash.“

“It’s that way.”

You close the door behind you once you’re in. You covered your mouth panting into your palm and staring at your reflection.

It’s because of the fish. You tell yourself. It’s a lie.

You pace the short length of the washroom. When it doesn't help, you turn on the faucet and splash your face. Your cheeks are too warm, your throat parched. You drink some water, rake your hair back and stare at your reflection.

It’s the overflow. You try to convince yourself. It’s a lie.

You sit on the tub’s lip and take deep breaths, trying to clear your head.

It’s too soon! You’re breathing fast.

You’ve had six dates. Have you ever made it to six dates? Well seven if you count right now. But had you? Without discovering something two-faced or horrible about a significant other in their thoughts?

“Oh.” You gulp air. Significant other. You didn’t even know what you were to Steven or what he was to you. Were you a couple? Were you - involved? Should you ask? You should.

But what if it is too soon? Hearing people’s thoughts had the unfortunate circumstance making you feel you got closer to people emotionally faster than they were with you. It’s why you usually gave up after three, maybe four dates. So were you and Steven at the same level of attachment? Were you in…

Hope she’s alright. Steven knocks on the door. “If you need anything, the drawer’s got some over the counters.” You open the drawer and see a bottle of nuromol.

Heavens, he was so considerate it made your chest ache more.

This would be so much easier if you could just calm down and think without the mess of your feelings, and hormones of your body.

That’s it! You needed to be out of your body.

You sit on the floor cross legged.

In your gap year after you passed your A levels and before you went to Uni, you went backpacking in the middle east and South Asia. You figured, you’re a Telepath, you’d be alright. You weren’t.

You learned the harsh lesson that there were other things that went bump in the night and minds. Enhanced humans, aliens, supernatural beings, and so many others. You were woefully unprepared to defend yourself physically, and even less so - astrally. Six months in Kathmandu, Nepal fixed that.

You slow your breathing down, place a hand on your chest, and turn your telepathy inward, into yourself. And then you push .

Your body slumps backward but you - your soul floats as you project into the astral plane.

You hadn’t even known you could astral project as an expansion of your telepathy. Well you did, but that wasn’t what you called it. You always thought it was just dreaming. That everyone experienced it. Seeing your own body in bed and exploring the night outside of yourself.

The world is silent. There are no thoughts here. None but your own. Without influence.

You float through the door and see Steven, somewhat frozen in time.

It takes you no time at all to know for sure what you felt was real. It wasn’t just the fish. Gus’s emotions may have made you clear the fog away - but it was all you at the center.

You float closer to Steven, press your astral palms to his cheeks and are about to kiss his forehead to leave a layer of telepathic protection for his dreams when the astral plane grows dark. The only light streams in from the windows, silver like moonlight.

Cease your actions!

You get no warning when the pigeon skulled creature grips your astral form, yanking you from Steven.

This one is under my protection.

It’s massive form towers over you as it puts itself protectively between you and Steven.

Return to your body.

It pushes you through the door and back into your body.

You’re gasping awake, limbs flailing, and are assaulted with the panicked thoughts of Steve. He’s calling your name and says something about opening the door.

“I’m alright!” You call out. And you mean it. Oh sure the presence gave you a scare. But you hadn’t gotten any malicious intent from it there.

Slowly, you get to your feet, brush off any dirt and then unlock the door.

Steven stares at you, his worry lines prominent from his furrowed brow, shoulders tensed and ready to spring into action.

“You alright?”

“Yes.” You breathe and step into him, your arms wrapping around his middle and burying your face into his chest.

He does not hesitate and tucks you against him. This is nice. So nice. His arms tight around you, body sagging into the embrace and his heart thudding - skipping a beat in your ear. “ Oh. ”

Fits so perfectly in my arms.

Steven kept you enveloped and pressed to his chest. He dipped his face into your hair and took a deep breath. The sound of his exhale was both loud and quiet, and all together comforting.

Don’t let go. Not yet. Please.

Not that you wanted to pull away. You gripped his shirt tightly when he rubbed your back. Slowly, unsure and then in full strokes. From your shoulder blades to your lower back, and up again. A steady hand with trailing fingers that applied pressure along your spine. If you could, you’d be arching your back into him when he did, but you were as close as you could get with clothes on.

Stay here. Like this. Just a bit longer.

You’re not sure whose thought that is. Yours or Steven’s. But you stand there with Steven, breathing him in as much as he does you. You look up and find he is staring back.

“Hello.” He says in that sweetly shy tone you’ve heard him use for stray cats and dogs on the street, afraid they might run before he can pet them.

“Hey you.” You mutter back.

“Not that I…” he licks his lips. “Not that I want to stop holding you like this.”

“Hmm?” You hum.

“But are you alright?” He asks. “Last I heard was you fall in there-” he gestured with his chin toward the wash. “And next you were walking out-”

“Into your arms.” You finish.

“Yeah. That.” there’s a flash of a smile before he worries his lip. “Before that, you looked like you were about to have a fit.”

“A bit yeah.” You admit softly. “But I think…I needed to be grounded.” You squeeze against him for emphasis. “I needed this.”

“You sure? Because if you need to talk, I’m here.” I’ll always be here. “You know that right? Anything you need.”

You smile and tuck your head against his chest again. Your grip on him tighter as a spike of anxiety coiled around you.

“I do.”

“Do…?”

“Need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“To you that is. Or rather.” You huff. “We need to talk.”

“Oh…” Oh no. Panic swirled in Steven’s mind. Nothing good ever comes from that specific phrase.

“Nothing bad. Honest.” You assuage his concerns quickly.

Steven takes a deep breath and nods.

“Whatever you need.”

“I need some clarity. To make sure we’re on the same page. So to speak.”

“Alright. Okay. Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, bracing himself and he pulls away.

You’re cold without his body heat and you stumble a little from leaning against him and no longer having his physical support. “But first.” You start.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Can-” You bite your bottom lip. “May I touch you?”

Steven stares at you with a parted mouth for a long time. He is so still, you wonder if you’re back in the astral plane. But no. It appears StevenGrant.exe is unresponsive. You wonder how you would even begin to restart him because even his thoughts are hanging as if frozen in white noise.

“Steven?” You wave your hand.

That gets a reaction because his brows rise up high. “T-Touch me?” His voice cracks. Don’t look at the bed. Don’t look at the bed. Don’tLookAtTheBed!!! His gaze flicks to his bed and back to you a few times. Piss. Shit. And not even just once. Steven you knob.

“Not- not that kind.” You bite your tongue and cover your mouth to keep from giggling. “But it could lead there, if we’re not careful.”

“Oh well if it could lead there, then yes.” Steven blurts out without filtering it in his thoughts first. He sputters. “I mean- I didn’t. Not that I’m hoping- well, I am hoping. But- But not that I expect it to. And only if you want as well and if you- if you- want to stop we will but if you don’t- I would- I would…like…to-” his voice died in his throat and he released a pitifully adorable sound as he stopped talking.

Your shoulders shook with laughter when he snapped his mouth closed. “Steven?”

“Hmm?” He hums, high pitched. “Oh, uh yeah…so ho-how do you want to t-t-” he doesn’t say it, clearly nervous.

You step toward him and he holds his breath, watching you. He audibly swallows. You gesture to his bed. “Sit, please.”

He backs up, his steps small. You advance on him slowly, afraid you might spook him. Though as you do, you wonder if it’s more like you’re prowling.

The back of his calves hit the bed and he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he lowers. You stop right in front of him. Standing in front of his knees.

You drink up the sight of him, hair mussed from when he’d raked a hand through it. Eyes wide and filled with dark anticipation, lips freshly licked, and a dark tint to his cheeks - filling them with blood and heat. He was wearing a button up over an under shirt. The sleeves of which had been rolled up showing off his forearms.

He was beautiful. You never really fully appreciated it before. You had the exact opposite problem as most people. Instead of judging someone on their looks first and slowly get to know what they are like on the inside, you formed your relationships from the inside out. So you didn’t know if you were physically attracted to Steven, and not just aesthetic appreciation.

“Give me your hands.”

He hummed and lifted them to you.

You grabbed them, hands you’ve held dozens of times now and had never fully examined. Too busy listening into his thoughts. But you were changing that now.

Steven had calloused hands. They were familiar under your touch, steady warm but now that you were paying attention, you noticed the skin was thickened from years of rough work you knew nothing about. That didn’t make sense.

You turned them over, and his knuckles told a further story, with thick knuckles and rough skin it was odd. Moving from his hands to his wrists and forearms, the skin had a smattering of scars. Small nicks, cuts, and scrapes that if you hadn’t been examining them closely, you never would have noticed.

Another thing was how toned his forearms were. What did he do to get like this? Surely working as a gift shop clerk didn’t put him under that much physical stress? Maybe Gardening? But he didn’t have an allotment for his flat. Perhaps Boxing? Sparring? It would certainly explain things.

You lined the palms of your hands with his and held them up. They were bigger than yours. You trailed your fingers down to his wrists, and down his forearms, studying the shape, thickness, each vein and dip all the way down to his elbows.

And he let you do this exploration, his gaze intensely on yours, breathing going haggard only once when you touched the inside of his elbows.

You quirked a brow.

Don’t press there again. Please. Please please. I’ll love it too much and then this will be a very short evening.

An erogenous zone? Interesting.

Manipulating his hands until his palms faced you, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to each.

Steven held his breath as you then pressed your cheek against them, to feel their rough texture.

He muttered your name softly, like a reverent moan and prayer.

“Yes?” You ask.

“May I touch you?” There’s a heat to the way he says it, and with the way his eyes darken and his thoughts swirl with what he wanted to do to you, you’re squirming, thinking you know what to expect. But there’s hearing and seeing the plan for what he wants to do, and there’s actually experiencing it. You nod and let go of his hands and lower yours.

They don’t stay there. He begins to mirror everything you did to him, yet he adds more to it. He shifts both of his hands to holding one of yours. He gives you one more glance before doing his own exploration with an intensity like he was memorizing the shape of you.

He cupped your hand and pressed a thumb into your palm. Reflexively you wrap your fingers around it. He pushes your long sleeves up your forearm, leaving it bunched at your elbow.

Shivers run down your spine when he trails his fingers back to your wrist while humming. His nails scrape down the length of your inner arm, making your skin and body jump. You gasp. There’s a mischievous head tilt at that. Note to self. Ticklish here.

He looks up at you from beneath his lashes as he presses his thumb at your pulse point. You spy a playful smile slowly stretching across his lips and he chuckles.

“Your heart rate…” he whispers. “It’s as fast as mine.” He moves your hand and fingers so your thumb is pressed to his pulse point.

He’s right. It’s elevated, pulsing quickly. Not matching beat with yours, but rather intensity and speed.

“Oh.”

Steven takes pleasure in holding this moment, watching you. His breath came in quicker, matching you as you inhale and exhale.

It doesn’t take long until you’re in sync, and somehow so are your hearts - briefly thudding away at the same tune.

It makes you shiver with a pleasant thrilling quiver up your spine.

Steven returns to his exploration. Lifting your arm up, flicking his gaze to make sure you’re watching as he presses a kiss first to your palm and then your pulse point.

You inhale sharply when he sucks in the too sensitive skin there, teeth nipping and then his tongue soothes over the skin.

“Oh.”

Your knees are weak, your chest heaving and head light. You think there can’t possibly be more he could do, but then he parts his legs. In a split second, he yanks you forward and your legs buckle, you have to grasp his shoulder with your free hand to remain upright.

The moan is ripped from you when he follows up with pressing his lips to the inside of your elbow. He does the same there, nips the skin but lavishes it with his tongue to soothe the pleasurable pain he caused.

“Steven…” you rasp.

“I’m not finished,” he growls and then rubs his cheek up your arm until your palm is against the slow growing scruff of his chin. He finishes with a kiss to your knuckles.

Then he repeats everything for your other arm and hand.

You’re a quivering squirming mess when he finishes. Your breath haggard, and you’re leaning heavily against Steven as he glances up at you.

“Where-” his voice is thick with emotion. He swallows and licks his lips. “Where else did you want to touch?”

It’s an innocent enough question, and not at all innocent given the context of the heightened state of arousal you both were.

“For that…” you start, shaking. “We- we’d have to- uh…”

“Yes?” Steven encourages. “Have to?”

“-start taking clothes off.” You explain.

Steven’s pupils go wide, his nostrils flaring and he nods. “Where?” he asks hungrily. Tell me where. Please. I want you to touch me. I want to touch you more. So much more. So much.

You close your eyes, a deep silent whine as you look up. You wanted to. You really did, and you were so close to giving in.

“Tell me, please-” he whines.

You wanted to say everywhere, ensuring you both end up in the very bed he sat on, but you weren’t ready for that. You had only meant to touch him to be sure of your physical attraction to him. Admittedly you went a bit overboard and then he wanted to reciprocate. And now you were very very sure of a mutual physical attraction on top of everything else.

It was quickly getting out of hand. And you still had questions and a conversation to have.

“N-no.”

His gaze turns confused and then, hurt as you step back, cold air filling the space between the both of you. He still held your hands, but didn’t pull you back. Did I do something wrong? He searched for what he could have done.

“Not- not yet anyway.” You clarify.

“Oh?”

“Steven.” You pull back a bit more. “We still need to talk.” You really hated the thought of being responsible right this second. You wanted to throw it all away and let Steven know exactly where you wanted to touch him, and where you wanted him to touch you. But you needed to have this conversation.

“Alright,” he breathed. The hint of panic he’d had before when you said that phrase - was now gone. In its place there was cautious curiosity. “What- what do we need to talk about?” He asks and then adds, “At this very second?”

You stared at him. Cheeky for adding that last bit. But it was important. Maybe not to him, but to you it was. You added more distance between you and Steven and took a deep breath, “What are we?”

Steven’s stare is long and unblinking for a moment. A quivering mess of horniess.

You bite your tongue at the thought, laughter in your chest. It cut some of the intensity down.

“Uh…” Steven tilts his head, trying to guess what to answer, just so you return back to touching him.

You’re flattered - really and you’re ready to accept any answer from him but he still needed to understand the question. You had to be articulate, and with no time to prepare because it was a split second decision in the wash to have this conversation, (for your sanity mostly, and maybe because you wanted to know) you start simply.

“Are we…together?”

Steven blinked. Oh.

“Are we a couple?”

“Oh…” he breathes out heavily, hands against his thighs. “…that talk.”

“Yeah.” You’re a bundle of nerves. “Kind of an important one.”

“Right yeah.” Steven nods and then stands up. He takes a step toward you but decides against it. No-no, too close and I’ll just kiss her. And she’s right, this is important. “Uh well…d-do you want to be?”

“I do, if you do.” You spit out like you’re about to be sick.

“Good.” He smiles and then frowns. “Wait no, that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Doesn’t it?” You feel very small suddenly.

“No.” He shakes his head while looking down at his hands. “I want to be with you. I want us to be together. But if it’s not-” he breathes through his nose, bracing himself mentally, “…if it’s not something you also want, then don’t force yourself. I-” his expression is serious, searching for some kind of indication. “I wouldn’t want to if you didn’t want to as well. Don’t just tell me things you think I want to hear. I want you to be honest.”

There is little difference between his words and his thoughts, barring the phrasing. It makes your eyes burn, but you indignantly try to stop what was happening.

“Do you want to be with me?” Steven asks.

“I do.” You whisper.

Steven’s eyes soften and he takes a step in your direction. Adoration and overwhelmingly affectionate thoughts bled from him to you.

“I’m-I thank you.” He reaches for your hand, and he brings it up to kiss your knuckles.

Your smile is quivering. You had other questions to ask. “Do…do you-” you paused, fraught with nerves and stammering.

Steven, bless him, waited. He didn’t rush you.

“Do you want our relationship to be open or…?” You hope you don’t have to say it.

Is she asking for an open relationship? “Just us?” Steven provides while considering his answer.

“Yeah.” You take a breath. “I mean, I would understand if- if you wanted other partners as well as me.”

Steven let’s go your hand and steps back as if slapped.

You wait for the onslaught of his thoughts, ready for the reveal that he does. But there’s nothing. No thought.

“You’ve done it again.” He breathes.

“What?”

He stutter stepped, hesitant. “I’m beginning to suspect, someone in your past mistreated you.” He seethes, fists clenched.

“What do you mean?” You don’t confirm anything.

“Because that’s twice now, you ask what I want?” Steven shakes his head. “When it’s our relationship. It should matter what we both want. Not just me, or you. Both of us.” He explains firmly. “Of course I wouldn’t want any other partners. But if you do-” his gaze is fierce with conviction. “If we ever do, we can always talk about it. Unless you…have someone in mind now and that’s why you’re asking?”

“N-no!” The word leaps from your lips. “I don’t have anyone- I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then why?”

“I just wanted to make sure that you-” Steven gives you a dark look and you correct yourself. “That we understood. That we’re on the same page.” Your throat is tight after explaining, fighting a bubbling feeling that was ready to burst.

“Then are we?” Steven searches your face.

You nod, trying to keep the burning in your eyes under control. But as soon as you blink, a rebellious tear rolls down your cheek against your efforts. And where one escaped, the rest follows as you scrunch up your face.

Steven takes a step toward you, his brows furrowed. Your name on his tongue with sorrow.

You gasp and hold a hand up to stop him. “Don’t.” You warn.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No!” You manage out a choked laugh that turns into a sob.

“But you’re crying!”

“I know!” You look up trying to blink away the rest of the tears, aggravated not at him but yourself. He says your name and steps up despite you backing away to keep the distance.

What did I do? Steven is genuinely confused and deeply concerned.

“You’re just-” you let out an annoyed sound. “You say all the right things and are honest and considerate and caring and you asked me what I wanted and no one’s ever done that before!”

I knew it.

The flat is silent until you take a shuddering breath. Steven watches you in awe for a moment and then holds out his hand to you.

You don’t hesitate to take it.

He folds you into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Is this okay?”

You laugh, and cry, and nod. “Yes. Yes it is.”

It’s a long time he holds you like this, nestled warmly and with your face pressed to his chest, listening to his steady heart beat. His hands are stroking your back again, calming you. The tears are long dried.

Wanting to get closer, you snake your hands and arms up and wrap them around his neck. You look up at him and he down at you with a contented smile.

“Steven?”

He hums.

“Is…this okay?” You ask.

One of his eyebrows quirk up in a question, and you stand on tip toes and pull him down gently. You don’t kiss him, but the intent is clear. You hover close enough to feel his breath on your lips, to press your forehead to his, to bump your noses together.

“Oh yes very much.” Steven breathes and then kisses you.

It starts off intended to be chaste but the contact reignites the fire in you both. A fire previously smothered that now burst into flames with a breeze.

His hands are on your waist, lifting and pulling you closer.

You suck on his bottom lip, nipping and moaning.

“Can we resume touching?” Steven asks between kisses.

“Please!”

“Thank heavens.” Steven pulls away long enough to grab you by your thighs and lift you.

You squeal and cling to him as he carries you the short distance to the bed. You half expected him to throw you and clamber in after, but instead he gently lays you down.

“Shoes,” he explains with a wink.

“Oh. Right.” You’re about to kick them off but he stops you by grabbing your ankle.

“No. Let me.” His eyes are dark, curls hanging over them making him look far more seductive than he clearly knew he was.

“What-oh Oh. Oh.”

He gets down on one knee, undoing the laces to your trainers. Pulling them off and setting them gently beside the bed, he does the same for your other foot and then removes your socks too.

You scoot backward, expecting him to join you but he holds your foot, halting you. He looks at it intently, thumb pressed against the arc of your foot, sliding up to the length of your foot and then down to your heel with just enough pressure to make you squirm at first uncomfortably and then-

Your stomach jumped. A gentler touch would have been ticklish but this…this wasn’t meant to be ticklish. He does the motion again and you fall backward, your hips squirm and you push your foot against Steven’s hand.

“What are you doing?” You groan.

“I’m touching.”

And then you remember, he had asked to resume touching.

“You…sneaky-” a moan is ripped from you when he does the motion again.

“Is this okay?” He asks. There’s a dry tease in his voice, a smile even.

“Yes!”

He chuckles, and then does it again until your toes curl. Only then does he stop. But he’s not done, not even remotely. He just focuses instead on running his fingers across your skin, over your ankles and to your calves. Back and forth he rubs your leg muscles, ending it as he did with your hands, with a kiss to the arc in your foot. He slides on the bed between your legs, still holding your leg and leans toward your knee.

The position is provocative and you’ve stopped breathing to watch him as he presses a kiss to your knee and nips the skin as well. The skin there isn’t nearly as sensitive in that way, but you giggle and cover your face when he laughs with you.

“Are you done?”

“No, I have to do the other leg too.” He grins.

“You can leave the leg and just do me.” You bite out.

Steven’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare with his breathing. He seriously contemplated it but shakes his head. “No…it’s only fair,” he whispers and then slides back down the bed to repeat it.

“Steven!” You growl.

“You can keep saying my name. It’s only practice for later,” he mutters as he presses his thumb in again. You catch his mischievous grin and glint in his eyes but you fall back on the bed and have to grip his bed sheets when he does the motion again.

You’re quivering, body on fire by the time he slides back on the bed and hovers over you.

“You are a menace.”

“But I’m your menace,” he whispers sweetly and then captures your lips with his.

You have revenge in your mind, pulling him closer until he’s flush and then you wrap your legs around his waist, and roll him so you’re on top.

Or you would be, if he didn’t continue the roll and now you’re on your back at the edge of the bed. He’s pinned you down with his hips, your legs parted with one leg hanging over the edge. He has your hands in his and tuts into your ear. “Not so fast, luv.”

“Don’t you luv me.” You spit back.

His breath hitches and he stills, eyes wide like a puppy - reminding you of the first time you met. Not what you meant. But oh days please one day yes let me say it.

With renewed energy and enthusiasm, as if it wasn’t enough before, he attacked your lips- swallowing any stuttering corrections you were about to try. Your cheeks are hot, your breath stolen. Your hands are trapped by his, so you’re unable to touch him like you wanted or he you - not that he didn’t have other means of lavishing you with attention. But you wanted more- needed more. With your own arousal and his coming through his thoughts, you needed to do something or you’ll go mad. So you roll your hips and increase the pressure to your centers and rubbing.

Steven stops kissing you to groan, “Oh you Minx.” He closed his eyes, forehead to yours to catch his breath. So close. Keep it together. Not yet.

“I wouldn’t be, if you let my hands go.” You coo.

“Liar…” he chuckled. “You’d be worse.”

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” He admits. “I really would. Too much.” He groans again when you roll your hips again. This time he retaliates by sliding his hips up. It was just as pleasurably painful for him as it was for you.

“Steven.” You whine. “There’s no need for this,”

“I think there’s every need.” He chuckles.

“But…with my hands, I can do so much more. And fix something.” You explain.

“I think I’m perfectly content right here-” he rubs against you for emphasis. “And what needs fixing, that I cannot do myself?”

“Oh but wouldn’t you prefer to be here-” you rub back, tightening your legs around his waist to trap him. “With a little less fabric between us?”

If his gaze was heated before, it was practically searing with fire as he looked between you. It couldn’t hurt.

You barely register his nod, but do notice when his hips relent and pull back and he’s sitting back on his legs. He lets your hands go.

That’s it. Yes. Yes. You push yourself up and stare at him.

“You’re still wearing your shoes.” You point out and slip off the bed as he looks back shocked. But it’s just the time you need to scuttle away from the bed, a destination not far in mind.

“Hey!” He rasps and clambers off to follow you. “Get back here!” He stops to remove his shoes and set them by the bed next to yours.

You’re giggling as you dash toward where you had absently dropped your purse. You bend down to grab it.

His bare feet are slapping against the floor now and you turn to see he’s midway unbuttoning his shirt.

You back up as he advances and end up against his desk with your purse between you like a shield. You stuff your hand in it as Steven traps you with his arms against the desk. “Are you going to come back to bed or will I have to carry you?”

“While I would love to be carried, again. I had to grab something from my purse.”

“And what is that?” He asks.

“This.” You wield the bundle of rubbers you still carried from your second date, provided by your boss.

Steven looks at them and bursts into laughter remembering the circumstances from which they were obtained. “Remind me to thank him.��

“Will do-” you shriek and shudder when Steven lifts you up on the desk.

“Hold onto me.” He breathes into your ear.

“Yes sir.” You agree and do that.

A spark thrills in his mind and you feel a wicked smile against you as he teases your ear tip between his teeth. “Yes, I like that.”

“What?“

“Sir.”

Oh.

“Say it again.” Steven asks gently.

“Will do, sir.” You oblige with a grin. Steven is positively glowing as he presses his kisses to your cheek, jaw, down and down to your neck line and finally he nips the base of your neck as he lifts you. He sucks in the skin, using his tongue to soothe and then moves on to do it again but just slightly to the left, catching skin made sensitive by his affectionate nips.

His back is hunched over you as he takes you back to the bed. You’re holding onto his shoulders, trying to lessen his load, but you’re weakened by his mouth.

Steven lowers you into bed, this time in the center but doesn’t let up on kissing your skin. He moves from one side to another, leaving a symmetrical pattern of lightly bruised skin. He pulled back long enough to admire his work and finish unbuttoning his shirt.

You should have worked on your own clothes but you couldn’t look away from Steven as more and more of his chest was revealed to you.

“Enjoying the show?” Steven asks as he peels off the first shirt, leaving the under one behind.

“Very.” You quirk a brow as he meticulously folded the shirt before setting it aside on his bedside table.

Too much. Calm. Relax. Breathe. His thoughts blur into a white noise. You notice there’s a tremor to his hands. He absently pulled at the fabric of his trousers by his crotch. Tight. Relax. Relax. Breathe.

You give him the moment he needs. He removed his undershirt and did the same. He’s midway folding it when he realizes what he’s done and is about to apologize but you’re already distracted, not by his calming habits but his physicality.

Beneath the patterned dress shirts and layers of sweaters and jackets, is an expanse of well developed muscle beneath with a healthy layer of fat and hydration that gave him a soft appearance, right until he tensed his abdomen.

“Wh-hat?” Steven asks.

“Woah…”

Steven begins to physically retract, the confidence he’d been displaying retreated as he smiles nervously. His shoulders hunch. “I-is something wrong?”

“N-no. Just…wow. Where…how-what do you do in your spare time?”

Steven ducks his head down, curls hiding his gaze, and shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing special.”

“Then you’ve got a seriously efficient metabolism…” you want to touch him but your hand hovers when you see him squirm uncomfortably. You pull your hand back.

“I- well I-” Steven tries. Oh this is going to be embarrassing.

“Yes?”

“I dance…”

“You dance?” You ask, bewildered. “What kind?”

Steven squirms again. “All? Or just about.”

“No… no way!” You gape at him. It explained so much! His callouses, the thickened skin on his knuckles, how he held himself to take up as little room as possible, and how he could carry you with little preparation. “I…” you bite your bottom lip and stare lovingly at him. “I kind of want to see you dance.”

Steven releases an exasperated sigh. “Right now?”

“Heavens no. But later.” You wave off.

“Good. Because I’m not going to pirouette on command.” He grins.

“You- ballet?!”

“Joking! It was a joke.” Steven hastily adds. Though I do know how to pirouette, just not the rest of it.

“Uh huh!” You lean forward. “It’s amazing though.” You kiss him.

“Hmm. Maybe.” He kisses you back, slowly and pointedly adds, “You’re overdressed.” He fiddles with your sleeves.

You don’t hesitate, leaning back so as not to hit him, you pull up your shirts. It was meant to be seductive and sexy, but you got stuck toward the end and had to slip your arms out of the mess before wrenching it off and huffing, your hair a mess from the struggle. “That went better in my head.”

Steven bites his lower lip to keep from laughing. “Give me those.” He grabs your shirts, and then disentangles them and folds them with his.

It's been a while since you’ve been in front of anyone without layers of clothing to protect yourself. You’re scared to have that much skin exposed and accessible, not to mention the telepathic connection it will enable. So much skin on skin contact, and with Steven being as genuine as he is - it was intimidating.

To take your mind off it, you reach a hand out to Steven’s chest. “Can I?”

Steven sets the last folded shirt down. “Can you?”

“Don’t be trite.” You roll your eyes.

Steven smirks, but leans forward. “You may. But I’ll reciprocate, as intensely as before.”

Your hand hovers over his chest, hesitant. Steven gently holds your wrist and guides you to touch his shoulders and slide along to his neck and then down. Skin smooth, except where you pick up on faint scars again. Just like his hands.

And like with his hands there wasn’t any memory of how he got those nicks and scars. Or none that were notable enough to trigger. His thoughts were focused on your touch.

Your hands are cold, feels..ngh. Steven flutters his eyes closed.

Encouraged, you take over and press both of your hands to his chest and run them up to the back of his neck and then into his hair. Fingers scraped and massaged his scalp.

“So good.” Steven sighs.

“Steven…” you whisper, shifting forward. “Touch me.”

You were expecting his touch and yet still jumped when he pressed his thumbs to your lower back and glided his hands up. He pulls you to him.

Your stomach twists with anxiety. You still wore your bra but you had enough exposed skin it was going to be overwhelming to get more than just surface thoughts without concentrating. But you wanted to. With Steven.

When you’re flush you exhale a moan and close your eyes as his thoughts fill you. There was so much arousal but doubt and nervous energy. Want to but I don’t know if I can last. Want to make sure you come first but have to calm down, you’re so intoxicating. Just looking at you, breathing you, touching you. Oh your kisses are. I’m so close.

“T-trousers…off now.” You mewl against his neck.

“Right.” Steven gulps, but doesn’t move to do so. Instead his hands had stopped at your bra. His brows furrowed.

“Clasp’s in the front, luv.” You murmur. He freezes and surreptitiously reaches between to undo.

“Bloody bras, never consistent.” He mutters.

You release a breath of relief as the girls were freed. Though the weight of gravity was a different kind of strain, but much better than the bra. Steven slips the straps down your arms and you’re surprised when he doesn’t fold it like everything else but chucks it at the pile of folded shirts

“Trousers next?”

“Right…yeah…” he trails off and then swallows. “It’s just…”

“What is it?” You lean back. There’s a moment where his eyes are drawn to your chest but they go back to your eyes.

“I’m kind of” Steven starts and fumbles. “I’ve never…been with a woman before.” Here we go.

“But you…” you squint at him. “You’re so good at…everything you’ve done.”

“Sorta the problem, innit.” Steven sighs and hunches his shoulders in on himself.

“So how did you learn how to be so intuitive, so…thorough?”

Don’t mention the romance books. Steven’s eyes flicked in a direction directly behind you on the bookshelf headboard. “I’ve been with women. But I’ve not been with women, you understand?” I’m going to have to say it.

“I’m going to need more than that.” You ask.

“It’s like, there’s a party and we’ve been invited, yeah. But then in the first ten minutes I do everything without even getting past the foyer. I don’t want you to…be disappointed.”

“Ah.” You smile. “So, the women you’ve ‘been’ with saw you come early and then just what…left?”

Steven grimaces.

“Oh no…you left?” You cover your mouth in second hand embarrassment.

“Bit of both.” First time was me. Second was her. “Sorry, I can understand if you want to leave-“

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not going to leave you or this bed just because of that.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” You lick your lips. “No, instead I’m going to reassure you that even if you do….arrive a bit early to the destination. The journey is still very enjoyable, even if one party never arrives or if you even take two journeys.” Though it won’t ever be an issue for you. You know that if Steven arrives you will surely follow every time. The joys of your abilities.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No. But if you don’t believe me, let me show you.” You scoot backwards, wiggling out of your trousers and pants.

Steven is frozen. His gaze raking up your legs to the apex between your thighs, over your chest and to your eyes. Movement yanks it away. You cup one breast and then run your hands your abdomen to between your legs. You know what you like but this was for show, for Steven to watch. You maintain eye contact as you work yourself. You’d been tittering on the edge of it thanks to Steven so it doesn’t take you long until your leg quivers and you have to screw your eyes closed.

The bed shifts and Steven has removed his trousers too, leaving them haphazardly hanging over the edge with yours.

“That was so fast…” he whispers in awe. “But you know exactly what you like.”

You’re panting and nodding. “And now, you don’t need to worry about getting there before me.” You rasp. “So…”

“So?”

You hold up an open rubber. “Put one on, sir.”

Steven growls and obeys. Once he nestles between your thighs again, he pushes inside and your sight warbles as he breathes relief. He moans your name and chokes as his back tenses.

When he moves, it’s slow at first and he breathes into your neck. His chest pressed to yours.

Your hips meet his shallow thrusts, legs hiked up around his waist encouraging him. You have no thoughts, your mind is empty and is just pure feeling. Yours and his.

Your vision goes white at the edges, lightning dancing further in. “Steven.” You moan.

“Yes?” He stops.

“Don’t- don’t stop please- I’m…”

“Already?!” Steven gasps, surprised. He moves a little faster, hesitantly but then you grip his shoulders and clench your thighs tightly.

“Oh heavens don’t do that…” he rasps. “You’re- how are you doing that?!” He groans and kisses you, stopping his movements.

You whine and buck up to his hips, yet enjoying his tongue raking against yours. He pulls away with a shudder and is thrown off guard when you roll him to the side.

You ride him, quickly and with purpose. He becomes a stuttering mess under you as you roll your hips and push down.

“Oh- I’m-“

“I know, just- Steven!” The scream is ripped from you.

He’s exploding with a groan and throwing his head back against his pillows. But you, you’re a mess on top of him, riding not just your orgasm but his. Your back is arched, mouth open wide in a silent scream with your chest heaving.

You’re not sure how much time passes as psychically you’re reeling. For a moment you’re floating, higher and higher - too high. And then you’re not in your body anymore.

You open your eyes and Steven is frozen in time under you in the midst of his orgasm. And you are floating above your body as it is falling forward.

“Well…this is new.” You blink at your astral form. There’s an unfamiliar silvery quality to it now. It’s made more evident when the astral plane becomes flooded with moonlight.

I hope you enjoyed yourself.

You look toward the bird-skulled presence where it was crouched by the window. Had it been watching you and Steven? Voyeur!

“Did you?” You ask it with a snarky scowl.

Its skull lifted and tilted with what you guessed was menacing intent. Return to your worm. It made a gesture as if dismissing you.

“With pleasure-” you want to snark back but it comes stumbling out of your mouth in a moan as you’re back in your body and waking up on Steven’s chest. You look up bleary eyed and heavy.

“You alright?” He’s panting, brushing your hair back and kissing the top of your head. “I never imagined,” he kisses your forehead, “I could- or that it could actually,” and kisses your nose. “Happen at the same time. That was…”

“Amazing.” You’re breathless. Your hormones are flooded with desire and your release but fear is working its way in from what you encountered. You’ve never orgasmed into the astral plane before. What was different? Why the heck was the bird skulled creature watching?! And how the bloody hell did it just push you out of the astral plane again?

“Yeah. And you…luv. You were…” Steven’s gaze is filled with reverence. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?!” You laugh, putting aside your questions for now and enjoying the afterglow. “You’re welcome, Steven.” You intended to push off his chest to get up, but his inner thoughts stopped you.

Stay here. Just want to hold you. Please don’t go yet.

“Steven…” you blow a stray lock of hair out of your face. “Can we cuddle?”

“Yes.” He answers too quickly and sheepishly smiles.

“Softie.” You tease. “Good thing I love softies.” You sigh and lay back down.

Love. Love?! His thoughts swirl on the word, brimming with elation, it’s hard to think - feel anything else. But for the first time in a long time, you don’t mind.

#moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #dancing in the moonlight fic

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