Tate rode his bike to Javi's in the dark but he could've navigated those roads with his eyes closed, he was so used to them. He'd never snuck out of his house before but he wasn't sure if it was actually considered sneaking out when he didn't technically have a declared curfew.

     He spent all his time with Javi; his mom never questioned where he was or when he was coming home. He guessed it was because he and Javi never really got into trouble, or pushed their parents limits. He knew this was over the limit. If she woke up now and saw that he was missing from his bed, there'd be questions and there'd be punishments doled out.

     Questions he would not be able to answer, he realized. They hadn't told anyone about what happened — what they'd done when they camped by the lake. It wasn't like Tate wanted to keep it a secret. What he really wanted was to shout it into every void, filling the quiet with this one deeply honest truth.

     He had kissed Javi. He had liked it. He wanted to do it again.

     Which was why he was riding his bike to Javi in the dark, winding up the road with ease, pumping his legs, excited and nervous. They hadn't done it again since that time in the tent and while it'd only been a few days, Tate didn't think he could go any longer without it.

     He got to Javi's house, dropped his bike by the side of their front porch, and took the path through Lena's blooming garden to his window. The garden was so full of flowers, it smelled fragrant. Tate thought only Lena could accomplish something like that.

     There were no lights on in Javi's room but his window was open, so Tate grabbed the edge of the sill, and dug his feet into the slots between bricks, pulling himself up so his face was in the window. He didn't have a steady hold, and his forearms immediately began to ache from holding him up.

     He dug his nose into the screen and whispered Javi's name as loudly as he dared. The very last thing he wanted to do was wake Javi's parents. He whispered his name again, a little louder. There was a groan and then a mumbled, "Tate?"

    "Javi, wake up," Tate said.

     The light beside his bed flickered on and Tate could see through the screen Javi lying in bed, the sheets tangled around his lower body, his arm stretched out to where he'd fumbled with the lamp. He was shirtless and Tate needed to look away.

     Javi was slow to fully rouse, even slower as he got up and shuffled over to his window, rubbing at his eyes, confused. "What're you doing here?" he asked his words slurred with sleep.

    Tate was jealous that Javi was able to sleep so easily when Tate had been up every night since the lake thinking about the lake. "I'm slipping, open the window," Tate said instead of answering the question.

     Javi slid the screen up and out of the way. Tate grappled with the window sill, trying to climb in. Javi stared confused and still partially asleep. "This would be a lot easier with a hand," Tate said trying not to smile because he'd surely lose his grip.

     Javi mumbled an apology and took Tate's hand, reaching over to grab his shirt and help hoist him into the room. Tate's body fell through the window with unexpected weight, bringing them both to the ground. Javi groaned loudly and Tate cupped his hand over his mouth, shhhing him.

     "They're getting old and deaf," Javi said with a laugh. "They can't hear me."

     Javi hoped they couldn't anyway. He'd taken to watching a lot of porn lately but his headphones were broken so he'd play it on the lowest volume on his laptop. If his parents could hear it, well, there'd be a lot of questions raised.

     He looked at Tate and asked, "What're you doing here?"

     Tate flushed, lifting himself off of Javi, and falling beside him on the floor. "Couldn't sleep."

     "You could've called me," Javi said.

     Tate rolled his eyes. "You were dead asleep, you wouldn't have answered." He turned to look at Javi. His eyes were still droopy with the remnants of sleep. "And anyway I couldn't do this over a phone."

     He leaned over and kissed Javi lightly on the mouth. He was pleased when Javi didn't move, just let him. "Is this what we are now?" Javi asked quietly, avoiding Tate's gaze.

     "Don't worry about what we are," Tate said, reaching between them to cup Javi's hand. "We're us, that's all that matters."

     Javi was quiet, considering. "So that's all you came for then?"

     Tate grinned, placing his hand on Javi's shoulder so he could brace himself as he swung a leg over his hips and climbed into his lap. "Definitely not all I came for," he said mouth hovering inches from Javi's.

     "Who are you and what have you done with my Tate?" Javi asked teasingly. It was a joke, he thought that was obvious, but Tate stilled, staring deeply into Javi's eyes.

     "Your Tate?" he asked.

     Javi's mouth had gone dry. He fumbled with his words. "Well you know not mine mine but like you know, you know what I meant, like—."

     "Don't take it back," Tate commanded. "I don't want you to."

     Javi let out a breath of relief. "Okay, I won't then."

     Tate brushed his hands down Tate's shoulders. They were bony and hard. Javi was too lean. Tate's thumb caught in the gap above his collarbone, a dip in the smooth plane of his chest.

     "What are we doing?" Javi asked quietly.

     "Well not enough kissing for one thing," Tate responded and dropped his mouth to Javi's, kissing him slow at first. Javi had his hands cupping his rib cage, holding him in place.

     Tate's knees were aching from the hardwood floors and cramping from the bent position so he sat down in Javi's lap, stretching his legs out. He shifted forward, wanting to close the space between their chests. He was surprised by how much friction it made, even more surprised by how much he could feel between the little fabric separating them.

     Javi was kissing him open mouthed, moving his tongue slowly into Tate's mouth, skimming it back and forth over his bottom lip. It was so good it was like being drunk on oxytocin. Tate had never felt something feel this good before. This was what it must feel like to have your soul kissed. He didn't understand how anybody did anything but this, given the choice.

     The kissing was still new and Tate could explore it forever. The touching was new, too. They'd had shirts and sweatshirts between them last time. Now Tate dragged his fingers along Javi's collar bone, down the center of his chest, lingering, before he shifted his focus to one pec. He didn't know why he was surprised when he found Javi's nipple, or why Javi reacted in earnest, making the smallest noise like he had tried to hold it back when Tate touched it.

     Tate wasn't sure what he could do, or what he should do, but the touching enticed him too much to stop and consider it. He dragged his finger back over Javi's nipple, then rubbed his thumb against it, making hard round circles.

     Javi shifted his mouth off of Tate's, panting heavily into his cheek. "This is good?" Tate asked quietly, not stopping while he waited for an answer.

     "Very," Javi answered breathlessly.

     "Has anyone ever touched you here?" Tate asked next, staring into the darkness over Javi's shoulder greedily. He knew the answer but he still needed to hear it.

     Javi's voice shook when he said, "No. No one."

      Tate nodded and bought his other hand up between them, exhibiting the same ministrations on his right side. Javi's hips bucked underneath him. "You really like this?"

     Javi was buzzing all over, pleasure moving like a ripple through his bloodstream. He leaned back, trying to get some space between him and Tate. "I'll show you what it feels like," he told Tate, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

     Tate lifted his arms into the air without hesitation. Javi leaned back in but instead of touching Tate, he dropped his mouth to his neck, trailing light kisses over his skin. "That's," Tate sighed, "not the same."

     "No, it's better," Javi said into his neck before he kissed him and then sucked his skin into his mouth, lapping his tongue over it at the same time.

     Tate made a surprised noise, saying, "Oh," as he cupped the back of Javi's head, holding him there. Javi sucked harder, urged on by Tate's noises. Tate's breath got pitchier. "Wait, wait, stop, ugh, Javi." The noises he made were higher and more frantic. His whole body shook and then Tate went slack in Javi's arms.

     He didn't stay that way for long, pulling himself out of Javi's lap so quick, he fell back and then he crawled away. Javi was immediately hurt and then confused, not understanding what happened and why they stopped.

     Tate was flushed, his breath coming rapidly as he avoided Javi's gaze. Javi scanned him, trying to make sense of what happened, until he saw the blooming dark spot on his cotton shorts. His eyebrows shot up surprised as Tate covered his face with his hand. Javi thought he had started crying and crawled over to him. He took Tate's hand and moved it away from his face.

     "This is so embarrassing," Tate said still not looking Javi in the eye.

     Javi tilted his chin, and said meaningful, "It's really not." Tate jerked his face away and looked down, unable to meet Javi's eye. "Come on, Tate, it's me."

     "Exactly, it's you."

     "Me, Javi, you've seen me shit my pants before."

     "Very different. You were sick."

     "Okay, and? It'd be more offensive if this wasn't doing anything for you. I'd have to reevaluate my skills."

      Tate slugged him in the shoulder. "Shut up."

     "It's okay," Javi said. He leaned forward and kissed his cheek. When Tate didn't move, not a rejection or an obvious acceptance, he kissed him again, kissed him even closer to his mouth just on the corner. He hovered there, waiting.

     "You're going to be the death of me," Tate mumbled turning his head towards his mouth, kissing him.

     "An honorable death," Javi mumbled between their lips.

     "I need to get cleaned up," Tate said. "Before this dries."

     Javi sat back, thinking. "It's kind of risky going out there. My dad's got the bladder of an infant. He uses the bathroom like six times a night."

     "Jav, this is gross." Tate gestured to himself.

     "I have baby wipes?" Javi offered. "I'll give you sweats."

     Tate sighed and nodded. That worked. "Why do you have baby wipes in your room?"

     Javi gave him a look. "Why do you think?"

     Tate laughed. "Too good for tissues?"

     "Baby wipes are more efficient," Javi said.

     What he didn't say, couldn't say to Tate, was that he was not circumcised and uncomfortably aware of his cleanliness. He resented his parents for not having it done as a child and when he'd bought it up to his dad, his dad had said talk to your mother, but then promptly told his mother who said I wasn't going to have my son mutilated!

     Javi did not see it as mutilation. He saw it as another way that he was the outsider, the immigrant, the person who did not belong. Puberty had made it better, now that things had grown and he'd taken to grooming his pubic hair. But he didn't look anything like the white guys in pornos and he hated that about himself.

     "Can you get those wipes?" Tate asked, desperation in his voice. The feeling was uncomfortable when it was wet and even worse when it was dry.

     Javi got up, going to his nightstand to retrieve them and then grabbed sweats from a pile in his desk chair.

     He handed them to Tate and went back to his bed, lying down facing the opposite direction to give him privacy. Now that he'd kissed Tate, really kissed him, he burned with kissing every part of him, of getting his hands on him, and seeing the rest of him now. He'd seen Tate naked before, he knows, but it was different before when the desire was staunched. He didn't have consent to look at Tate like that so he didn't. But now that he did, it was all he wanted.

     He felt the bed shift with Tate's weight and turned over. "Better?"

     "Yeah, thanks." Tate laid down on his side and Javi slid towards him. When he breathed in deep, he smelled Tate.

     "You smell like sex," Javi said, closing his eyes and drinking it in.

     "How do you know what sex smells like?" Tate asked.

     "Sorry, I'll clarify, you smell like cum."

     "Don't be a dick," Tate said blushing.

     "What about my dick?" Javi teased. Tate blushed harder. He liked them like this. He could get used to it, even though he knew he shouldn't.

     "I have to go home," Tate said yawning.

      "Stay," Javi told him.

     "My mom will lose it," Tate told him.

     "You'll leave early."

     "It is early."

     "Okay, so stay for only a little while. Until I fall asleep. It'll be quick."

     Tate didn't exactly agree but Javi slid up against him, his head tucking under Tate's chin. Javi tilted his nose into Tate's neck and breathed in deeply. He never felt more at peace then he did now. He wanted this everyday for the rest of his life.

     He wanted it so bad, he started to cry. He had to bite his tongue, digging his front teeth into it until a metallic taste filled his mouth. How did he root himself to this moment? He needed to know because he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to replicate it again.