They both make two bowls at the pottery workshop and they get to paint them, too. A crease forms on Vincent's forehead as he peruses the paint colours and selects a brush. He paints with pursed lips and drawn brows, the same focus he had when playing clarinet. He must look like that too, when he works on a watch, putting together all that tiny machinery. He's never seen Vincent work, but he'd like to. Vincent's focus transforms him, as if he has honed all his intensity to this precise laser beam.

Naturally, Vincent has an artistic vision and paints finely detailed yellow and orange flowers on his bowls. It's just as bright as Edwin would expect from him. Vincent seems like a person who likes spring, the explosion of life and colours that can't be contained. Maybe Edwin should buy him flowers for a future date, after all.

"That looks beautiful," he says, and Vincent thanks him. He doesn't lean over to kiss Edwin's cheek again. Edwin stares for a few seconds, waiting for it, before he turns back to his own bowls. He's sticking to an overall light grey and a dark green stripe at the rim. Hard to mess that up, even for someone who hasn't painted since the last time he finger-painted with his children.

When they step outside, Edwin feels light. The night air is crisp and prickles his awareness of Vincent's warm body. This was a great first date. The right choice. His own date idea had been indoor climbing, but as soon as Vincent had suggested pottery, he hadn't even mentioned it. It would have been fun, but it's not first date material. They wouldn't have been able to talk as much. Maybe Vincent only likes running, and he would have hated climbing.

Still, Edwin had worried. That he would hate pottery, that he'd fumble and he'd be too tense to hold a conversation. And he did fumble, and of course Vincent was better than him, but it wasn't so bad. They also talked and joked and it's true what he'd said when Vincent asked: he had fun. He doesn't want this evening to end. He wants to keep talking, to cuddle or kiss or everything.

Standing on the sidewalk outside the building, Vincent asks: "Would you like to come home with me, darling?" He's smiling and he's gorgeous, with the shadows drawing lines on his face, his dark eyes pooling even darker, his brightly-coloured clothes looking brighter. He's wearing pastel colours, which make his dark brown skin glow.

"Yes," Edwin says. He's not sure what he's saying yes to, what is implied in 'coming home'. He doesn't really care. He'll take whatever's on offer.

They take the tram and at this hour of the evening, the car is half-deserted. They both have a seat, next to each other, and nobody sits across from them. Their hands brush. Vincent is talking about jewellery, about watches, and it settles over Edwin like sunlight warming up his skin. He moves his hand, touches Vincent's palm and Vincent doesn't pull his hand away. Edwin holds their hands between their legs, inconspicuous for other passengers. A thrill runs through him, knowing that he's holding a man's hand, in public. He could have done this with Ellen and now he's doing this with a man.

Vincent asks him something and he listens to the reply with such attention that Edwin's skin tingles, from his hand up through his arm, down his body. He's talking about the book he's reading, but he's barely aware of what he's saying. Vincent nods, smiles, jokes. He doesn't read books, doesn't like reading — only the occasional comic or graphic novel — but he always asks what Edwin is reading, how he likes the book.

They get off and Edwin lets go of Vincent's hand when they stand up. He doesn't grab Vincent's hand again while they walk to his apartment. Somehow, the desire in Edwin's veins thrums all the more for it.

"Do you want a drink?" Vincent asks, taking off his coat.

"Sure, thanks."

Edwin sinks down on the couch while Vincent goes into the kitchen. He stretches his back while he listens to the tinkling of glasses. Those chairs were definitely not meant to sit on for several hours. This couch on the other hand ... It's an old couch, worn, but it's very, very comfortable. He likes sitting here with Vincent, watching movies or meandering in and out of conversations.

Vincent hands Edwin his glass of sparkling water and settles next to him. There's some space between them, but he stretches out his leg and his socked toes rub against Edwin's calf. Edwin pulls his leg away, but Vincent's toes start up their playful pressure again closer to his knee. It doesn't tickle, not exactly, but it lights up his skin, like small electric shocks.

"Is this a hint to rub your feet?"

Vincent's toes freeze, now applying firmer pressure. "You'd rub my feet, darling? Not the foreplay I thought we'd have."

Edwin's mind jumps to that fantasy he had about Vincent painting his toe nails, how intimate it'd be. Maybe he'd have bare legs and Vincent would touch them, slide up his hands ... "No! If you asked, I mean."

"I won't say no if you want to indulge your foot fetish, sweetheart."

"I don't have a foot fetish."

"No? Is there a fetish you do have?" Vincent's foot slips away from Edwin's leg and he leans over, his hand on the couch between them. If Edwin shifted his weight, he'd be sitting on it. "I won't tell a soul, I swear."

"I don't have a fetish. I don't ... know about stuff like that. BDSM."

"Me neither, darling, don't worry." When Edwin stares back, Vincent amends: "Well, I know about stuff, but I'm not into BDSM. Not the formal type with leather and punishment. I just like having fun and trying out new things. So sometimes I'm a little kinky."

"Kinky how?" Edwin asks, trying to imagine what else could be out there that's 'kinky', if this is where they're actually not compatible. At least Vincent is not into whips and chains, though Edwin wouldn't have been surprised if he was. Vincent is ... intimidating. He could order someone around. He'd enjoy dressing up.

"You know, teeth, bruises, the works. Nothing dramatic. Don't look so scared. I'm not about to bite your head off."

"I'm not scared, I'm just — Really?" Would Vincent like ... to be bitten? Or hit? Or would he like to bite Edwin? That ... doesn't sound very pleasurable. None of Edwin's porn had any biting or hitting in it. Except maybe some kissing. He does like kisses with more teeth in bed.

"Sure. What are you into? Likes, dislikes?"

"I haven't hooked up with anyone. Since."

"But you've had sex. You could have things you want to try. It's not so complicated, sweetheart."

Edwin's gaze sets on the coffee table, on the stack of colouring books, a plant with purple-red leaves, a box of beads, a comic. Vincent doesn't expect him to talk about how he had sex with Ellen, right? Just in the abstract. What he'd like to try. "I like ... giving pleasure. Making someone feel good."

"Yeah? I should know by now you're that kind of person."

"Sorry."

"Don't say sorry, darling. It's very sexy. Very promising. What else?"

"Uh, toys?"

"What kind of toys?" Edwin shrugs. "For yourself or your partner?"

"Both? Whatever —" He doesn't want to bring up Ellen, but this is not abstract. They're talking about them having sex. "Whatever you like. I'm fine with most things, if you ask me."

"Noted," Vincent says. "I like toys, too. Vibrators. Dildos. I don't like to be on the receiving end of penetration, but I have plenty of ways I can give it to you good, if you want that." Vincent winks. Edwin doesn't blush. Somehow, this feels almost clinical and it sets him at ease, that Vincent is not joking about this. He wouldn't know what was a joke and what was real.

"I want to try." He's always been willing to try a lot, for Ellen's pleasure, and this would be for him, too. It looked ... good, when he watched porn of men being fucked. He has imagined some of the strangers on Grindr doing that to him, doing it to them. There are a lot of things he wants to try, that he hopes Vincent is willing to let him try.

He looks at down at the glass of water in his hands, condensation on his fingers. "I tried to do ... research. About sex with transgender men. But I wasn't sure ... One of my friends used to have a relationship with a transgender man, and he gave me advice too."

"You're such a sweetheart. What advice did your friend give?"

"To ask you. Because everyone has different things they hate."

Vincent bursts out laughing. "That's solid advice. Just a little generic."

It had been nice to talk about his worries and questions with someone who understood, but Guido had definitely not said anything that wouldn't apply to pretty much any sexual situation. He talked with Ellen about what they liked and wanted and disliked, too! That's common sense, really. "It's okay. I just don't want to do anything wrong. Or freak out. I really think you're very hot. Beautiful. Handsome."

Vincent's laugh tinkles. "Why, thank you, darling, I think you are very hot, too." He pulls Edwin's head towards him and they kiss. It's a short kiss, at first, chaste, but Edwin reaches out to hold Vincent's head in turn and he traces Vincent's lips with his tongue and they lose the plot after that.

When they catch their breath, Vincent keeps holding Edwin's face in his palm and Edwin can smell his breath. "You don't need to worry," Vincent says. "Sex is ridiculous, darling. Bodies are ridiculous. It should be fun. If you don't take yourself too seriously, any hiccup will just be a hiccup. I will even refrain from too many jokes the first time."

Edwin chuckles. "Only the first time?"

"Yes."

Edwin cards his fingers through Vincent's hair and drops his hand to Vincent's knee. "You're right. Ellen says I chew in circles sometimes." He huffs. For all his inexperience with men, with someone he's sexually attracted to, he does know that overthinking is about the worst way to have sex.

Vincent chuckles and pulls on Edwin's bottom lip with his teeth for a few seconds, before releasing. "Attraction is complex, honey. If you don't call me a freak, I'm not going to be offended if you need a second. First times with a new partner are always awkward. Doesn't mean it can't be sexy." He catches Edwin's lip again, but sucks on it this time. His hand glides down Edwin's neck, his shoulder, to the hollow in his back.

When Vincent ends the kiss, Edwin breathes out: "Okay."

"Okay, what, darling?"

"Whatever you said before." He can't worry if Vincent kisses him like that. That, too, is a reassurance. He can be in the heat of the moment and it'll be okay. Vincent can pull him out of his head.

Vincent laughs softly. "Dazed is a good look on you, sweetheart." Edwin makes an inarticulate noise. "Do you like it if I compliment you? If I tell you that you're making me feel good, how much I like something?"

Edwin closes his eyes and leans his head back against the couch. He's too aware of his clothes, fabric against skin, too hot. How can Vincent push all his buttons, even now? "I think you know the answer and you're teasing me."

"And what if I am? What are you going to do about it?"

Edwin opens his eyes and turns his head to the side. Vincent pulled one leg up onto the couch, so he's leaning over Edwin now. His eyes crinkle. "Nothing, I guess."

"You like it when I tease you? Like this?" Vincent trails a hand down Edwin's chest, barely touching, stopping just above his belt.

"Like that? Yes. Less if you ... I don't want it to feel like you're mocking me."

"No humiliation, got it."

"Humiliation?" Edwin almost stumbles over the word. "That's a thing? A sexual thing?"

"Everything is a thing, darling. Probably. But I don't have a humiliation kink, so don't worry."

"I wasn't worrying."

"Sure you weren't, sweetheart. I could see it on your face. It's cute."

Edwin shudders. "Don't call me cute, please. Kittens are cute. My daughters were cute. Not ..."

"Alright, handsome. I still like seeing your reactions."

"You always liked provoking me," Edwin accuses, playfully.

"Got me there, darling. It's my guilty pleasure. Does it bother you?"

"Not now. Sex is about eliciting reactions, right? But I want it to be both of us, together."

"So you don't like it if I take the lead? Or do this?" Vincent reaches down and encircles Edwin's wrists with his hands, holding them down on the couch next to his head. His grip isn't tight, but not so loose that Edwin could just get away. He's enclosed by Vincent's body and he wants Vincent to kiss him, to straddle his lap, to overwhelm him.

Edwin's mind goes blank. "Uh," he brings out, intelligibly. "I don't know? I've never tried." In either role. He never cared about power with Ellen. About being the man who took his pleasure. He'd rather give pleasure. But if Vincent — He wouldn't have to worry about not knowing what to do, if Vincent held him down.

"It would be my absolute pleasure to try it with you, then," Vincent says solemnly. Edwin stares up into the deep brown of his eyes, how the hues of it shift in the light. "If you like it, I have some more things we can try."

"Like what?"

"Something other than my hands to hold you down, let's say that. But we'll only try it if you want to." Vincent releases Edwin's wrists and sits back down, at the same height again.

"Okay. Do you ... like it?"

"It's only fun if we're both enjoying it, honey. But I like fun. However we're feeling in the moment. Don't take it too seriously."

"Because it's ridiculous."

Vincent points at Edwin. "Exactly. But don't hold me down. You can do other things to me, if you don't want to be a pillow princess. The teeth. Bruises. I like teeth an awful lot. Some good tongue action." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Do you want ... now?" Does Edwin want now? He wants, yes, has wanted for months, but he didn't want it if it'd be a hook-up, if he'd be a joke, a conquest, for Vincent. But they're in a relationship now.

"I want a whole lot," Vincent replies, "but I'm the hook-up guy. You are the relationship guy. So your pace, darling. Is there some sort of rule about sex on the first date?"

"I don't know."

"I volunteer to test out if you have a rule. I can touch you all over. Or you can touch me. Or both. Maybe some kissing? I think that would be an excellent scientific test, what do you say?"

Edwin chuckles and reaches out to kiss Vincent again. He thinks the research will show he does, in fact, not have a rule against sex on the first date.