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Chad climbed into his lap, knees bracketing Hank’s thighs, and felt Hank’s hands settle on his hips—thumbs finding the ridge of his hip bones the way they always did.

“Been thinking about you all day,” Chad said. “Sat through an hour of Renaissance patronage with my brain somewhere else entirely.”

“Where was it?”

“Here.” He rolled his hips. Watched Hank’s breath catch.

“Chad—”

“Tell me what you want.”

The question landed. Arousal still there, but something else moving underneath it. A man at the edge of a diving board.

“I want—” he started. Stopped. His thumbs pressed harder against Chad’s hip bones. “I’ve been thinking about something specific.”

“Okay.”

“About tonight. About what we might—” Going formal. The more nervous Hank got, the more he sounded like he was composing a memo. “I’d like to try something. If you’re—if that’s⁠—”

“Hank. Just say it.”

He closed his eyes. His hands tightened on Chad’s hips. And the word came out like something spring-loaded:

“Doggy-style.”

Chad grinned. Now we’re getting somewhere. He’d been wondering when Hank would want to push past the playbook—really cut loose. The image was already there: hands and knees, Hank behind him, all that carefully contained weight finally⁠—

“I can work with that,” Chad said, leaning in to kiss along Hank’s jaw. “You want me on my hands and knees?”

“No.”

Quiet.

Chad pulled back.

“I meant—the other way.” Hank’s face had gone deep crimson. Not the flush of arousal. The mortified red of a man whose mouth had outrun his explanation. “I want you to—I want to be the one⁠—”

Oh.

“You want to bottom.”

Hank looked like he wanted the couch cushions to consume him. “Yes.”

“Where’d this come from?”

“Remember… someone told me I should stop being so—” A frustrated exhale. “—vanilla. That I should try⁠—”

Someone. His ex-wife. Shelby.

“—and I’ve been thinking about it,” Hank continued, miserably. “What it would feel like. To—” He broke off. “Forget it. This is⁠—”

“Hank.” Chad took his face in both hands. “Look at me.”

Hank looked at him.

“We’ve done doggy-style one way,” Chad said. “I was on the receiving end, and you were great.”

“Yes, but⁠—”