Grace

It was a constant surprise that for all his manic, twitchy tension, when he moved it was with a rambling loose-limbed grace that set Bob's mouth by turns watering and desert dry.

Every sullen slouch, each casual sprawl fed the increasing ache inside of him, the hollowness like hunger and growing by degrees until it seemed sometimes he might disappear from the inside out, swallowed alive by the Jay-sized hole in his belly.

It should have been unbearable; might have been, if Jay hadn't known exactly what response his movements inspired. He never spoke of it, but the knowledge was there in every carefully timed thrust of hips and every scatter of dance steps, lashes lowered, watching Bob watch him.

And when finally the day came when he could ignore it no longer, when the space inside him echoed Jay's name with every step he took, Bob found himself surprised once more. Held against the mattress by firm hands and pinned by the hunger in Bob's dark gaze, Jay merely watched him in silence for an endless time before closing his eyes and smiling, completely and perfectly graceful in surrender.