While Doug felt less guilt over his desire to be intimate with Ethan in the wake of Eric’s death, his desire did not wane. He often thought about Ethan when his mind wandered and couldn’t wait to share the events of the day with him. Doug also began to believe that Ethan also wanted to share his day. He’d find himself walking the water's edge as the sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of orange and violet, the sand cool and firm under his feet, the water a gentle, lapping presence at his ankles. He’d call Ethan, their conversations becoming less about grief and more about the small, mundane details of their separate lives. Doug would describe the colors of the sunset, the way the sea gulls could be an annoyance, the perfect shells he’d find. Life had become calm, almost enjoyable again. But it was still a calm with a hollow center, an enjoyment that felt like it was missing a crucial ingredient. He was healing, but he was still alone. He wanted Ethan’s touch. He had mentioned the strong desire for physical contact after Eric’s death and how the counselor had helped him realize the normalcy of those feelings. Ethan admitted that he too had wanted a physical moment with Doug in moments to days following his brother’s death. Ethan, however, did not want to elaborate or discuss it over the phone. He promised Doug he would be open to talking about it, but later, in person, when the time was right. Doug agreed to Ethan’s need not to discuss the situation; although, he felt that it was a bit of a stumbling block for them.
Then came the Friday afternoon when Doug turned a different direction from work and drove to the entrance of the Padre Island National Seashore. He parked his car and began to gaze out into the water. The colors, the sight, the sound, the water, the sand. Everything just seemed so beautiful to him. He dialed and pulled his phone to his ear, the sound of Ethan’s voice a familiar comfort. After the usual pleasantries, Doug found himself rambling. "...and the client wanted a fountain, but not just a fountain," Doug was saying, kicking at a piece of driftwood. "He wanted a 'water feature that told a story.' It’s a beautiful fountain, if you ask me. So, they want to sue the guy, because the story is dull. I swear, sometimes I think..." He trailed off, a strange sensation prickling the back of his neck. He turned. There was nothing there. It wasn't a sound, not exactly, but a shift in the atmosphere, a presence that felt out of place. He turned again. “I swear,” said Doug. “I get the sense that something’s here. Waiting for me or watching me.” His heart gave a sudden lurch. He broke into a sweat.
“Maybe it’s the package I sent you. It’s marked ‘delivered.’ I should be getting a photo of it sitting on your doorstep.”
“What did you send me?”
“Nothing much. Just some junk I thought you might want.”
“I would pick today to come to this beach. You should have told me. Of course, sometimes it’s hard to know when a package is going to arrive. That one I sent you took over a week.”
“Well, hopefully no porch pirates will abscond with it.”
“Abscond? Now there’s a word.” Doug laughed. “I’m headed home. The Apple Car Play in my car isn’t working, so I’ll call you when I get home.”
“Do that,” said Ethan, and he waited for Doug to disconnect.
Doug arrived about thirty minutes later. He told Siri to call Ethan as he hurried to the elevator.
“Hello?” came a whispered voice.
“Hey, I can hardly hear you,” answered Doug.
“I’m in the park watching the monkeys.”
“Shit, dude. There’s no package. Well, fuck.”
“Did they get the wrong door?”
“Let me look.” Doug scanned the walkway to his right. He let out a sigh and turned to walk to the entryway of the apartment adjacent to his. Ethan stood against the door. Doug stopped and simply stared.
“I kind of fibbed a bit,” said Ethan. “I was only watching one monkey.”
Tears began to flow from Doug as he stepped forward to embrace Ethan. Ethan held him tightly. “I needed that. Oh, how I needed that.” He pulled back to look at Ethan. Tears threatened to spill forth from his eyes as well. “So did I.”
Ethan’s arms tightened around him, his hand rubbing circles on Doug’s back. "I've missed you, too. I’d forgotten how good you look." They pulled apart just enough to look at each other. The sun’s rays through the atrium caught in Ethan’s eyes, turning them to liquid amber. The air crackled between them, charged with all the unspoken words of the last six months, all the shared tears and lonely nights. Doug saw something in Ethan’s gaze that mirrored the ache in his own chest, a recognition, a longing. Without thinking, without a single conscious decision, Doug leaned in. Their lips met, tentative at first, then with a growing certainty that stole the breath from Doug’s lungs. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but of homecoming, of finding something lost. It was slow and deep and impossibly right.
When they finally broke apart, panting softly, foreheads resting together, the world seemed to have narrowed to just the space between them. Ethan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cream-colored envelope, worn and creased at the edges.
"Eric gave me this," Ethan said, his voice barely a whisper. "He made me promise. Said I was supposed to give it to you six months after he died."
Six months. The words hit Doug like a physical blow. He stared at the envelope, his mind reeling. Had it really been that long? Had the grief stretched and warped time so completely that half a year had vanished without him noticing? His hands trembled as he took it. With fumbling fingers, he tore it open. Inside were two letters, each addressed in Eric’s familiar, looping script. He handed one to Ethan and unfolded his own. The paper was soft, the ink slightly faded.
To my Doug, it began. If you’re reading this, it means I’ve been gone for a while. I hope the pain has started to ease. I also hope you’ve stopped being so stubborn. I’ve seen the way you and Ethan look at each other, the way you talk to each other, the way you are when you just sit and say nothing out loud. You two are two halves of the same whole, and you’re both too damn scared to admit it. He needs you. And you need him. Give yourselves a chance. Don’t let my memory be a wall between you. Let it be the reason you finally find your happiness. All my love, always. E.
Tears blurred the ink on the page. Doug looked up at Ethan, who was staring at his own letter, his own tears tracking silently down his cheeks. "I took a job in Corpus Christi," Ethan said, his voice thick with emotion as he folded his letter carefully. "I start Monday. I did it… I did it because of you. Because I think he was right. I think we need to figure this out, see where it goes. You were right; I didn’t need to feel guilty about wanting you so much after Eric died. There were just so many emotions. I couldn’t figure things out."
Doug’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, hopeful drum. He looked from the letter in his hand to the man standing before him, the missing piece of his calm, enjoyable life suddenly standing right in front of him. "You’re here now. And we’re talking face to face. You haven’t found a place to live yet, right? Because you’re staying with me, right?" Doug asked, his voice hoarse.
Ethan shook his head, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "No, not yet. I knew you would ask. We’re two halves of the same walnut, are we. I had a back up plan that I knew I wouldn’t need, but I had to because…”
Doug smiled, “that’s the way you are. And I love you for that and so many other reasons.”
“I was just going to get a hotel for a few days to give you a chance to prepare, but I wanted to surprise you.”
"No," Doug said, the word firm, absolute. He reached out and took Ethan’s hand, his fingers lacing through Ethan’s, a perfect fit. "You're not getting a hotel. You're staying with me from here on out."
"Doug.” Ethan’s grin grew larger. “I knew you’d insist.”
"Eric was right. It's time for you to stay with me, Ethan, and for us to figure this out together."
Ethan looked at their joined hands, then back up at Doug’s face, the last of his hesitation melting away in the fading light. He nodded, a single, decisive movement. "Okay," he whispered. "You’re right."
The few steps back to the condo door were quiet, but it was a new kind of silence. It wasn't the oppressive, empty quiet of Waco, but a charged, expectant hum that vibrated between them. Their hands brushed, fingers intertwining and then letting go, as if they were both testing the reality of this new permission they'd been given. In the elevator, standing close in the mirrored box, Doug watched Ethan’s reflection instead of his own. He saw the same mix of nervousness and hope he felt mirrored in Ethan's eyes, and it settled something deep inside him.
Inside the condo, the space felt different with Ethan in it. The clean lines and neutral decor were no longer sterile; the space felt alive. Doug’s hands felt clumsy as he unpacked the shrimp he’d bought that morning, the domesticity of the moment feeling both surreal and profoundly right. Ethan moved around the small kitchen with an easy grace, finding the colander, a pot for the water, pulling down two wine glasses. Their movements flowed into each other, a dance they hadn't known they knew the steps to.
They ate at the small table on the balcony, the sounds of the night a gentle backdrop. The conversation was light, skimming the surface of the monumental shift that had just occurred. They talked about the drive down, about Ethan’s new job, about the flavor of the wine. But beneath the words, their eyes kept meeting, holding, and a current of pure, unadulterated want flowed between them, growing stronger with every passing minute. When the last of the linguini was gone, Doug stood and held out his hand. Ethan took it without hesitation.
Doug led him to the couch, the soft glow of a single lamp illuminating the space. They sat, turned toward each other, the space between them charged with anticipation. Doug reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of Ethan’s jaw. Ethan leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. That was all the encouragement Doug needed. He closed the remaining distance, their lips meeting in a kiss that was worlds away from the one on the beach. This was not a kiss of discovery or homecoming; this was a kiss of claiming.
It started slow, deep, but it quickly became more passionate, growing in heat and intensity. Years of unspoken longing, of grief and suppressed desire, poured into it. Doug’s hand slid from Ethan’s jaw to the back of his neck, his fingers tangling in the soft hair there, pulling him closer. Ethan’s hands roamed over Doug’s chest, his thumbs pressing into the hard muscle, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. The kiss became a messy, desperate thing, all teeth and tongue and breathless sighs. It was a conversation their bodies had been waiting to have, and they were both fluent. Doug shifted, pulling Ethan down with him until they were lying on the couch, a tangle of limbs and mounting need. The weight of Ethan’s body on his was a revelation, a grounding force that made Doug feel whole for the first time in months. Their hips rocked together in a slow, grinding rhythm, the friction sending jolts of pleasure straight through him. Clothes became an unbearable barrier, and they fumbled at buttons and zippers, shedding fabric with a frantic urgency until they were skin to skin, the heat of their bodies mingling in the cool air of the room.
Doug pulled back, his chest heaving, and looked at the man beneath him. In the dim light, Ethan was a study in beautiful vulnerability. "Let's go to the bedroom," Doug said, his voice a low growl.
Ethan just nodded, his eyes dark with lust.
The bedroom was bathed in the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains. Doug pulled back the covers and they tumbled onto the cool, crisp sheets, their bodies immediately finding each other again. This time, there was no rush. There was only the luxury of exploration. Doug kissed his way down Ethan’s body, mapping the landscape of his chest, the hard plane of his stomach, the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He took Ethan’s hard cock into his hand, feeling the weight and heat of it, the way it pulsed against his palm. He watched Ethan’s face as he leaned down and took him into his mouth, savoring the sharp intake of breath, the way Ethan’s hands fisted in the sheets. He set a slow, torturous rhythm, using his tongue and lips to drive Ethan to the edge, pulling back just before he could fall. He wanted to know every part of him, to learn the sounds he made, the way his body tensed and shuddered.
When he finally released him, Ethan was panting, his skin flushed and gleaming with sweat. "Your turn," he rasped, pushing Doug onto his back and reversing their positions.
Ethan’s mouth was just as eager, just as thorough. He worshipped Doug’s cock with an intensity that stole his breath, his tongue swirling and teasing until Doug was writhing on the bed, his hands buried in Ethan’s hair, whispering his name like a prayer. The pleasure was almost unbearable, a white-hot tide building inside him.
But it wasn't enough. It wasn't everything.
"Ethan," Doug gasped, pulling him up for a searing kiss. "I want... I need all of you."
Ethan’s eyes searched his, and he saw the same desperate need reflected back. He understood. He reached for the small bottle of lube in the bedside drawer, his hands trembling slightly. He prepared Doug with a gentle, patient reverence, his fingers stretching and scissoring, opening him up slowly, carefully. Doug arched into the touch, his body aching for more.
When Ethan finally positioned himself between Doug’s legs, the head of his cock pressing against his entrance, they both stilled. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, everything else fell away. There was only this. This connection. This joining. Ethan pushed forward slowly, sinking into Doug’s body inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a burning stretch that quickly melted into a profound, full-body pleasure. He felt complete.
Ethan began to move, his hips rocking in a deep, steady rhythm that hit the core of him with every thrust. Doug wrapped his legs around Ethan’s waist, pulling him in deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust. The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, the slap of skin on skin, their ragged breaths, their whispered words of encouragement and endearment. It was a symphony of desire, and they were both lost in it. Doug’s hand found his own cock, stroking it in time with Ethan’s powerful thrusts. The pressure built, coiling in his gut, tighter and tighter until it snapped. He came with a hoarse cry, his release pulsing over his hand and stomach, his body clenching around Ethan.
The feel of Doug’s orgasm sent Ethan over the edge. He thrust once, twice more, then buried himself deep with a guttural moan, his own release flooding Doug’s senses. He collapsed onto Doug’s chest, his body spent and trembling.
They lay there for a long time, their hearts hammering against each other’s ribs, the sweat cooling on their skin. Eventually, Ethan shifted, rolling to the side but keeping an arm draped possessively over Doug’s chest. Doug turned his head and kissed the damp hair on Ethan’s temple. In the quiet aftermath, the grief was still there, a faint scar on the soul, but it was no longer a gaping wound. It had been filled. It had been healed. They were no longer just two men who had lost someone. They were two people who had found each other. And as they drifted off to sleep, holding one another in the moonlight, they both knew that this was just their beginning.
-FIN-
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