On the first Saturday night that we were in New York, Teddy told me to pack an overnight bag. I asked him what he was talking about.

"We're not going anywhere, we're already here," I said.

"You have no Prof tomorrow, right?" he asked. "We don't have to be here at eleven?"

"No, I suppose not," I said. "Though I did plan to work a little bit anyway, on my own."

"Perfect," he said with a grin. "So pack for overnight. You won't need much, just something to put on in the morning, warm clothes for tonight, and," he took me in his arms, "sexy lingerie," he whispered. He kissed my neck, spending a lot of time in the vicinity of my scar, which he knew drove me crazy.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going, Mr. Shelley?" I whispered back, putting my arms around his neck.

"In a bit, in a bit," he said, nodding, putting his hands under my sweater, on my waist.

"Okay," I murmured, placing a soft kiss in the corner of his mouth. He was just so happy to be surprising me, I didn't want to ruin it for him by being a pest.

I packed a small bag with a red nightie he'd gotten me for Christmas, a barely-there kind of thing in see through lace that tied at the front in one place, between the breasts, then just sort of fell away, revealing the midriff and navel, with matching undies. To this I added clean underwear and clothes for tomorrow, plus an actual flannel night shirt to sleep in. I threw in my toiletries bag and hair brush from the bathroom. I put on a thicker sweater for tonight, grabbed my coat, hat, scarf, and gloves, and turned around.

"I guess I'm as ready as I can be without knowing the destination," I said, smiling.

"Let me make sure, yeah?" he said. "I mean, I do want to surprise you, but I want you to be comfortable, you know?" He came over and looked through my stuff.

"Yeah, I think you'll be fine," he said. "Let's go." He picked up my bag, along with his, in one hand, and took my hand in his other. In front of the hotel, a uniformed porter hailed us a cab.

After sitting in traffic for who knows how long, we finally arrived at a pier, where we boarded a really beautiful boat. No, yacht, would be more accurate.

"Wow, Teddy, this is so cool," I said, looking around. It was all lit up with fairy lights. A young man took our bags from us while another young man escorted us to a dimly lit seating area, with a small sofa facing an enormous window which opened to the Manhattan skyline. There was a door which led outside, where there was seating for those intrepid souls who could brave the freezing temperatures.

We removed our coats and handed them over to the young man, who hung them in a closet, or locker, or whatever they were called on a yacht.

I looked around. "So we're spending the night here?" I asked.

He nodded. "There's a beautiful stateroom, with a lovely big bed, and a bathroom attached," he said with a smile. "And the boat just goes around the island all night long."

"How lovely," I said with a smile. "And how thoughtful of you."

Teddy sat down and patted the spot next to him invitingly. I promptly sat down in the curve of his arm, leaning into him. He rubbed my arm. As if by magic, drinks appeared in front of us, wine for me, something brown for him. Teddy picked his up, took a drink, then turned to me.

"I forgot," he said, contrition written all over his face. He quickly put his drink down.

"What?" I asked. Then I figured out what he meant, and I felt bad. "Teddy," I whispered, putting my hand on his arm. "I never meant to make you feel ashamed of anything, like you couldn't be yourself. Please, do what you like. Please." I put my drink down and put my arms around his neck. "I love you. Thank you for tonight. I'm so happy."

He put his arms tightly around me. "You're my forever girl, Birdie. You make me so happy, too. I love you, so much.

"Now, let's be happy." He kissed my hair. "Okay?"

I pulled my head back. "Yes, yes, yes." I kissed him. "Happy." I grabbed his drink and tossed it back. It felt like fire going down my throat, and I gagged and shook my head. "Whew! What the fuck did I just drink?" I gasped.

Teddy sat up, staring at me. "I can't believe you just did that!" he said, laughing and rubbing my back. "That was straight whiskey!"

"Jesus, that was awful," I said, laughing with him. "How can you drink that?"

"Ronan would be proud of you," Teddy said, still laughing.

Someone with a cap on stuck his head in. "We're casting off, sir," he said to Teddy, "and dinner will be in about two hours."

"Fine," Teddy said, continuing to laugh. "Thank you."

He continued to rub my back. "Well," he said, "since you just tossed back that very expensive shot of Irish whiskey, I might as well switch to wine, what do you think? Hmm?" He leaned over to kiss me, then sat back, looking at me.

"What?" I looked at him.

"You taste like whiskey. It's sexy." He pulled me in for a more emphatic kiss, harder, pushing his tongue in farther, more suction, more everything. "Oh, man, that's so fucking hot," he muttered, laying me down on the sofa, holding my hands above my head with one hand, attacking my mouth with his, moaning. He put his other hand under my sweater, on my tummy.

"Um, Teddy?" I asked when he stopped to take a breath.

"Mm?"

"Does this mean we're not going to enjoy the skyline that you paid for us to see?" I asked before he lowered his head to kiss me again.

"Fuck," he said, looking at my mouth. "I guess you want to see that, huh?" He looked at me.

I looked back at him. "I love you, I love to kiss you," I whispered, lifting my head and kissing him to prove my point. "I was just asking, because it's going by, and I know you must have paid a lot of money for it, that's all."

He sighed and released my hands, pulling my sweater down over my stomach with his other hand and helping me sit up.

He poured himself some wine, and poured me some more. We held our glasses and snuggled in the nearly dark room, watching the sparkling Manhattan skyline glide by, and as the wine took hold, I grew ever more aware of his body next to me, of the hardness of his torso, his arms, his thighs, the smell of him; good god, would this sexual awareness ever fade, ever subside even a little?

I put my wine glass down, took his glass out of his hand and set it down, climbed on his lap and started kissing him, stopping only long enough to grab his hands and put them on me.

"Oh, god, this is so frustrating," I whispered. "All I want to do is rip your clothes off and screw your brains out right now, and I know any minute that very nice man is going to open that door and tell us it's time for dinner..."

Teddy was breathing pretty hard, too. "Would you like me to tell them to postpone dinner for a while?" he asked in a husky voice.

"No, it would probably be ruined, and then I'd just feel pressure to hurry," I said. I moved off his lap and plopped down next to him, sighing. "It's okay," I said, patting his leg. "I'll only be more horny later. Let's just enjoy the wine and the view." I handed him back his glass and picked up mine.

"We really should figure out this delayed gratification thing," I said, leaning my head against him. "There must be something to it, you know? The anticipation, a touch here, a look there..."

"A grab here, a snog there," he said with a laugh, reaching for me and kissing me.

"I'm serious," I said, laughing too. "I mean, we're grown people, how long before we stop acting like horny teenagers?"

"I don't know," he said, sitting back, taking another sip of his wine. "I told you, this is new to me, too. Never in my life have I gotten excited in my sleep, or just from the smell of someone, or the thought of someone, multiple times a day for months and months on end, or had multiple orgasms, or any of the other amazing stuff that's been happening with you. We're like a sex fantasy come to life." He grinned at me. "And we look so normal, too, sat here on this sofa, a singer and a music student." He shook his head. "Bizarre."

I shook my head back at him. How had this become my life? I had honestly believed, until a few months ago, that I was meant to go through life as an asexual being, channeling all of my feelings and passions into my music. No one had ever stirred the least bit of feeling in me, ever, and I figured by the age of twenty-one or so that it was just my lot in life. I remembered feeling a little bit superior to my acquaintances as they cried or worried about this guy or that, but feeling a little cheated, too, and wondering if this was what was missing from my music, if this was the elusive "bravery" that people kept criticizing me about. It had been annoying, like being a colorblind person being told to see how beautiful purple was.

And now I could.

We went into another room for dinner, where the views were just as spectacular. The dinner was delicious, many tiny courses of meticulously prepared food. I don't even remember what we talked about, just how he looked in the dark light, hair pulled back so I could see every feature, his smile quick and easy as he poured me more wine.

After we finished eating, we went back to the room with the sofa, and I was very unsteady on my feet, whether because the water had become choppier or because of the wine I'd consumed was anyone's guess. Probably both. We steadied each other, sort of, and collapsed onto the sofa, and watched the city go by, not saying anything. Someone had put music on, some lovely Chopin, and I felt like I was floating in space.

At one point, I could see we were back at the dock, and I lifted my head to look at Teddy questioningly.

"Just letting the kitchen staff off, unloading the dinner stuff and all that. Now it's only the captain and a porter, or butler, or whatever he's called," he explained. After a few minutes, we angled away from the dock, heading out into the Hudson once more.

He turned his head to whisper to me. "I'm happier every day than the day before. At this rate, I'm probably going to die of happiness before the year is out." And he began kissing my neck, bringing me onto his lap. He put his hand on the curve of my hip, bringing his other hand around my back to hold me. Unbelievably, I felt my legs seizing up, and little twinges in my sex. He felt them, too.

He lifted his head to look at me. "Did you just almost come?" he asked in a soft voice.

"I think so," I answered, just as softly. "Wow, you have magic hands, or magic lips, or magic something,"

He looked at me and shook his head.

"Grab up," he said, standing. I put my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his middle, and we went through to the bedroom, which was just that, a room taken up nearly completely by a huge bed, with just barely enough room to walk by along the sides.

He laid me down, lying on top of me and kissing me deeply, strongly, like he was trying to push my head through the mattress. He pulled my sweater over my head, and started to unbutton my shirt.

"Wait, wait," I whispered, grabbing his hand. "Don't you want me to put on the red thing that I brought?"

"I've actually been thinking about all that stuff I bought for you," he said, looking at me. "And I don't think I would've bought it if we hadn't been, you know, estranged, or whatever you call it. We don't need that stuff. I know I don't, anyway. You couldn't be any sexier to me, no matter what you wore. And I feel fucking stupid making you play dress up for my benefit. It's demeaning to you." He finished unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it open.

"I mean, look at you. Jesus, you're absolutely lovely, the most beautiful girl in the world, just as you are. You don't need to change into a costume. I was excited most of yesterday just thinking about the photograph I took of you looking out the window that first morning for fuck's sake, honestly," he said, looking down at me. He lowered his head and kissed me, making me feel like every bone I had in my body was melting.

"So save it, burn it, give it away, do whatever you'd like with it, I don't care. If you ever feel like wearing it, go ahead, I'm sure you'll look smashing in all of it, and I'll love it, but don't feel like you have to change into it for my sake, okay?" He unsnapped my pants, unzipping them, pulling them off me and throwing them behind him somewhere. He smiled at me, pulling his own sweater over his head, then pulling his shirt off, tossing them both over the side of the bed.

The room was dark, lit only by the little fairy lights strung up outside, and the lights of Manhattan which glittered in the distance.

"Turn over," he whispered.

I complied, putting my head down on my arms. I felt him reaching under me, to pop the hooks on the front of my bra, and I lifted up a little to make it easier. He pulled it off me, running his hands over my back, down to the indentation of my waist. I felt him pulling my underwear off, briefly feeling how wet I was. He gave a sigh and lingered there for a minute, making my breath quicken, but then he stopped. I wondered what he had in mind.

He just touched me everywhere, running his hands all over, kissing me where he wanted, giving me a little massage, lying on top of me for a little while kissing my neck. I had never had so much time spent on my back, and I was really turned on by it. By the time he flipped me over, I was ready to go.

I moved down his body to spend a little time on him, but he pulled me back up, saying softly, "No, no, all you tonight, sweetheart, you do anything to me, the state I'm in, and it'll all be over."

I looked at him. He shrugged, brushing my hair out of my face. "Sometimes you just have that effect on me."

"But I haven't done anything," I said. "I've been lying here on my tummy the entire time. You've only seen my back. That's not even the side you like," I laughed. "And I think I'm pretty drunk, which makes me kind of dumb and sloppy, right?"

He laughed. "You're never dumb and sloppy, my glorious girl, never ever."

He kissed me, over and over, holding my throat gently, before sliding into me, eyes closed, pulling me to him, brows knit together in intense concentration. He exhaled softly, warm breath on my face.

I lay on my back, looking up at him, feeling him push into me as if he wanted to become a part of me, and I wished he could too.

I put my hands on his backside, trying to bury him deeper.

"I love the feel of your hands on me," he said into my ear. "God, everything you do feels so good."

I could feel his heart going a million miles a minute against my chest, I could feel his heat mingling with my own.

It was warm in the stateroom, and we were both sweaty with our efforts. He flexed into me, over and over, a little grunt accompanying each thrust. "Fuck, like sliding into oil—" he gasped as I clenched down on him. He moaned, leaning in to blaze a scorching trail of bites and kisses across my neck and collarbone, swiping his tongue across my flesh immediately after the almost painful nips of his teeth to cool down the skin; in the morning I would find a line of pink and purple marks between my ear and my breast where he'd sucked on me.

"Oh my god," I murmured helplessly as I felt his heat inside me, his mouth on my skin, his hands grasping at my body. I was getting closer and closer, the ground crumbing away beneath me.

He heard me and lifted his head so he could see my face. "You look stunning, wish you could see how beautiful you look," he whispered. He bent his head to kiss me, our lips crashing together, our bodies rocking with the rhythm of the boat, and I began to come, crossing my legs behind him and tensing them, trying not to squeeze him too hard. I grabbed the sheets with my hands, twisting my hands into fists, and I made moaning sounds into his mouth as we continued to kiss.

All of this pushed him over the edge, and he pulled back a little to push into me as he came too, a long, continuous motion, clasping me to him by my shoulders as he tried to push me up the bed. He softly called my name into my ear a couple of times before he became silent and motionless, then slowly relaxed as I felt the warmth spreading within me.

I felt tears prickling my eyes as he turned us so we were side by side, and I sniffed so my nose wouldn't run. He took a look at my face.

"Are you crying?" he asked in soft surprise. "Why? Is something wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, of course not, idiot," I said. "You cry all the time when we make love, aren't I allowed to cry sometimes, too?"

"Of course, of course," he said, laughing and rubbing my back, pulling me closer. "Sorry, my love, didn't mean to intrude. So those are happy tears, then? Hmm?"

"Yes," I said, really letting go. "I'm so happy that the joy has nowhere to go except out my eyes, so here it comes, okay?" And I pulled myself all the way into his arms, putting my face on his shoulder.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a funny way, and I realized that he was crying as well. I pulled back to look at him. We made eye contact and laughed.

"Me too, Birdie, me too," he whispered through his tears, pulling my head back down on his shoulder.

We held each other and cried for a little while, interspersing our silent tears with laughter. We put our foreheads together and kissed each other, whispering that we loved each other.

"We're so happy it's just ridiculous, isn't it?" he asked me. "I mean, if other people could see us and hear us, they'd vomit, wouldn't they?"

"Probably," I said complacently. "So it's a good thing they can't. It's no one's fucking business. And we were pretty unhappy for a long time last fall, anyway. The way I see it, it's our turn for a little joy, you know?" I kissed him, a long, happy kiss. He kissed me back, smiling and laughing.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He looked at me. "You sleepy, or you want to clean up from all this, or what? Quick shower? Long bath? Another round in the bed? What do you want to do? I'm yours to command."

"Really?" I looked at him. "Anything?"

He looked at me, eyes narrowing. "It doesn't have to do with going swimming or anything, does it? Because I won't do that, under any circumstances." He even backed up a little bit. "I mean it, Birdie. I know you're a hot shit swimmer and don't mind the cold and all that, but I abso-fucking-lutely refuse to go skinny dipping in the Hudson River in January. Or who knows, we might even be in the East River by now."

"No, I'd never ask you to do that, honest!" I said. "This water's way too choppy and dirty to swim in, anyway."

"And cold, you nitwit, you left out the most important thing," he said. "You really scare me sometimes, you do."

"Right, right," I said mollifyingly.

"So?" he asked, still staying a prudent distance away. "What did you want to do?"

I laughed. "You're scared shitless, look at you. You're totally regretting all that 'yours to command' business." I scooted closer to him. "Well, don't worry, Theodore Shelley, my brave hero, all I want to do is put on my pjs and get back in bed and watch a movie with you. And maybe fuck some more." I kissed him. "Change that 'maybe' to a 'definitely'. And that's all, honest."

I could feel him relax. "Oh. Oh, okay, then." He kissed me back. "Great. Let's get changed, brush our teeth and all that."

I smiled at him. "And all that. Yeah."

That night we watched The Inbetweeners, a British comedy that Teddy and the boys loved that I'd never heard of. It had its moments, though a lot of it went right past me. It was definitely a boys' movie, and a UK boys' movie at that, so the scatalogical and sexual references, while understandable, weren't that funny to me. I did, however, enjoy Teddy's responses to the humor, so he laughed at the movie, and I laughed at him. It was very entertaining. And the movie brought back a lot of school memories for him, which he shared with me, which was really fun. And for some reason, the movie made him really horny, though it wasn't particularly sexy.

"Why?" I asked, as he grabbed at me and tickled me. He was putting his hands all over me and generally acting like a goofy fourteen-year-old kid. He pulled me in and kissed me, slipping his hand in my flannel shirt and grabbing at me, which, oddly enough, was just as sexy as when he did it seriously,

"Dunno," he responded, laughing. "Maybe it just reminds me of the randy teenager I used to be. I mean, back when I was in school, everything used to set me off. I had an English teacher, and we used to talk about what she wore, like, every day. And looking back, I don't even think she was that hot. And there was a girl we'd see every day on our way to class; she'd be in PT, and we'd talk about her endlessly, poor thing. I don't think she knew. I mean, I hope she didn't know. She developed quite early, you know? And they'd always be doing calisthenics when we went by, and we'd make the most terrible noises and comments." He shook his head.

"That's awful," I said. "How old were you?"

"Twelve? Thirteen? Can't really remember," he mused. "We were just one big bunch of raging hormones."

"As opposed to now," I commented. "Because now you're a calm, sedate, rational and thoughtful adult."

"Hey!" he said. "I resent that." He stopped for a second. "At least I think I do." He unbuttoned my shirt. "Or I will, in a minute." He began kissing me, all the way down my midsection.

I gave up on speech for a while, just letting myself feel, closing my eyes and enjoying the drifting feel of the boat, and Teddy's hands and mouth on me. We were upside down on each other for a little while, in the classic pose that was so popular, until he pulled me off, saying it was too much, that he didn't want to finish just yet, then we just kissed for a long time, saying love words, which probably would sound ridiculous to other people, but made us feel so happy and warm in our boat, burbling around Manhattan.

We finally just came together, without haste or emphasis, merging our bodies as we faced each other, side by side on the huge bed, damp with effort, to go to that place that we could only go when we were together, bodies pressed as close as possible, one being with four legs, four arms, two hearts.