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“I have mentioned what an asshole I am, yes?” Raphael pressed. He gave in to the urge to push fingers into the back of Dmitri’s hair, holding him tight. “But you need to tell me what isn’t fair. I don’t understand.”
Dmitri went very still, his breath hot as it seeped into the front of Raphael’s sweater. He didn’t move for a long time, and then he turned his head and laid his cheek against the left side of Raphael’s chest. “I’m ace.”
Raphael tightened his grip on Dmitri. “I know this.”
“I’m ace,” he said, and then pushed away so he could look Raphael in the eyes. “I want be sexual for you, but…I can’t. Not the way it would be with someone else.”
“Are you wishing you were someone else because you think it would be better for me? Is that why you didn’t say anything for all this time?”
Dmitri’s cheeks went faintly pink, and he glanced away. “You told me when we first met how people looked at you like…like you couldn’t be sexy and disabled. You said that all these shitty-ass dates ended because they didn’t get it. And you like sex. You want it.”
“I do like it,” Raphael said slowly. He crept his fingers around to Dmitri’s shoulder, then brushed his thumb against his neck. “But I don’t want it at the expense of you thinking you’re not good enough for me.”
“I just don’t want to be like them,” Dmitri said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to be those people.”
Raphael almost laughed. It was a damn near thing, the anxiety and nerves and everything else he didn’t have names for bubbling in his gut. He cupped Dmitri’s cheek, letting himself bask in this moment, in being able to touch him without fear—without telling himself it was too much of something he wanted and could never have.
“You’re so much more than any of those people. You’re so much more than the people who want to throw me onto a bed and fuck me rotten,” he added, and Dmitri snorted a laugh. Raphael brushed his thumb over Dmitri’s lip. “I’m old.”
“You’re not…”
“I’m older. I’m not geriatric yet. I’m not ready to retire. My hair isn’t white, and I’ve been able to hold back most of my wrinkles. But I have more than ten years on you—and those years were heavy. I didn’t want to burden you. And I was afraid if I did…”
“You won’t lose me,” Dmitri breathed out. He shifted closer, letting his arm rest over Raphael’s waist, tipping their foreheads together. “Even if you really don’t want this.”
“I do,” Raphael murmured.
“I’m still not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Raphael closed his eyes and felt Dmitri’s pulse against his fingers where they were resting against his neck. He licked his lips, and he knew he was just scant inches away from being able to kiss him. “May I…?”
“Yes,” Dmitri said.
“Do you know what I was going to ask?”
“I was hoping you were about to ask me for a kiss, because I’ve wanted that for so fucking long, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t. So please,” he started—but didn’t get the chance to finish, because Raphael leapt. Tipping Dmitri’s head back, he pressed their lips together—closed at first, until Dmitri parted his own, and Raphael fit against him like he was always meant to be there.
Their breath mingled between them, gasping and searing hot, and Raphael’s fingers began to shake, because this was everything he had ever wanted—and everything he had been denying himself for so long. It was a moment that terrified him beyond all reason, because he wasn’t used to being able to keep the people he loved, but something about Dmitri tasted like forever.
His tongue was warm, and it was inexperienced. But it was also brave as it dragged along Raphael’s lower lip, and Raphael opened for him, letting Dmitri take the lead, letting him control every nuance of that narrative because Raphael was unequivocally and eternally his.
“God,” Dmitri breathed out. “God, is it always like that?”
Raphael laughed, cupping Dmitri’s face with both hands. He shook his head, nuzzling their noses together, smudging kisses along his jaw. “Nie, kleine Engel. It’s never like that. Only with you.”
Dmitri took a moment to catch his breath. Raphael could hear his deliberately slow inhales and exhales, and then his grip loosened, and he eased back. “I’m exhausted. And hungry.”
Raphael grinned at him. “Help me up then. We can go grab lunch somewhere quiet.”
Dmitri nodded and slipped off the car before he offered both hands to Raphael and got him safely to his feet. “Everyone knows, don’t they? It was such a fucking blur, but they were all there.”
“Not everyone,” Raphael said, “but most of them will have heard by this morning. I’m sorry.”
Dmitri shook his head. “They already think I’m a mess. They’ll think it was my fault, stirring up shit again.”
“If that were true,” Raphael said, stopping him with a gentle hand to his elbow, “Paxton would still have his job, and there would be no torches and no pitchforks.”
Dmitri laughed and shook his head, stepping closer to Raphael. He laid a hand at his waist, and his fingers dug into the fabric of his sweater. “It’s more complicated than that, you know.”
