There's a First Time for Everything

Chapter 4: Use Your Words

There are certain moments with Tine that are etched so indelibly in Sarawat's mind that he can call them up in memory as clear as any high-res photograph. He even thinks of them that way, as snapshots in time, each with its own caption.

Hello, Angel: The instant he saw the joyful face of a then-nameless boy who stepped on his foot at a Scrubb concert, a boy so alight with happiness that he glowed. An incandescent being with the face of an angel. Sarawat could barely look at him directly without feeling weak in the knees.

You Again: The astonishing moment when that same boy—the one Sarawat truly believed he'd never see again in this lifetime—came loping up to him on their university campus, a horde of manic girls at his heels. His face was serious this time, even anxious, but every bit as beautiful as Sarawat remembered. It rendered him literally speechless. His angel boy was here. After all this time. Here and trying to talk to Sarawat, whose brain promptly short-circuited so badly that instead of taking the luminous boy's hand and tenderly promising him the sun, moon, and stars, Sarawat first turned his back on him and then compounded that sin by wheeling around to deliver outright rudeness. He did manage one true sentence, though: "Keep looking at me like that and I will kiss you senseless."

Music In Motion: This one is a composite of all the times he watched Tine's face as he listened to Scrubb songs. Face transformed by wonder, lips curving up in a delighted smile, body gently swaying as though Tine was adrift in a current of the music he loved so much.

I'm On Fire: The heart-stopping moment Sarawat first saw Tine wearing nothing but a towel low on his hips—and instantly felt the sweet warmth of infatuation ignite into something that set his blood on fire. He had to fix his gaze on Tine's chest because if he met his eyes Tine surely would've seen, would've known.

And then there's right now, this very moment, its caption yet to be written although Sarawat hopes to god it'll be Together: Tine, naked in his arms.

~

ONE HOUR EARLIER

Tine's not panicking. Not one little bit. Nope, nope, nope.

OK, maybe a little.

The nerves don't hit right away. Sure, he's a little anxious, but that's easy to ignore when Sarawat opens his door looking like a whole meal in close-fitting jeans and a black tank top, freshly showered with his hair still damp and towel-rumpled. He also looks a little sheepish, and Tine might've stopped to wonder why if Sarawat weren't already reaching out to tug him close for a kiss.

"Hello, Nuisance," Sarawat murmurs just before their mouths meet.

Tine's had his share of kisses, so he's got some basis for comparison when he admits—if only to himself—that Sarawat's kisses are the best he's ever had. He blames Sarawat's mouth for that, those irresistible too-perfect lips. But there's also a subtle difference in how he and Sarawat kiss, something that goes beyond the novel experience of kissing someone close to his own height or feeling a little scratch of stubble. With past girlfriends, kissing always felt like something Tine did to his partner, or at least initiated. With Sarawat, though, it feels like a mutual act they create together, fed by their shared desire until it takes on a life of its own.

This one is soft and unhurried, a leisurely slide of mouth on mouth, with just the briefest touch of tongue tips before they draw apart. Hello, you.

"Hi," breathes Tine. "You smell good." He does, of shampoo and vanilla-scented body wash, with just a hint of something lightly musky underneath that's uniquely Sarawat.

"You look good," Sarawat counters, ushering him further into the room and tossing Tine's messenger bag onto the bench beside the door. "Date-night good. Are we going out for dinner? I just ordered delivery from the noodle place you like but it's not too late to cancel."