I told him he was beautiful. And that I liked his company. I took care of him like he was mine. And the worst of it all, I kissed him. It was only a brush of lips against his forehead– mother always used to say a forehead kiss cures the worst fever. It was stupid, and even if there was something to it, I doubted he would've felt better after. I told myself that this was just to see how hot he was. But I knew deep down inside it was a lie, and I did it anyway.

I ended up falling asleep in a sitting position, with my back against the wall, Noah's feet pushing into my thigh but sometime during the night he shifted, probably while he was having one of those fever deliriums. When I woke up, I noticed his head on my thighs. I fisted my hands to fight the urge to touch him. But it wasn't enough, not when I'd been fighting this feeling for so long.

My lips touched his fevered skin, and I swallowed down the pain I'd been carrying around for so long, feeling both a sense of freedom and the cold sensation of chains tightening around me.

He shifted in his sleep again and I felt guilty as he mumbled incoherently. I let out a sigh of relief and felt remorseful, then stiffened when his arm circled my waist, coming to rest in the arch at the small of my back. I peered down my chest at him, watching in horror as he blinked awake. He licked his lips, turning away from my crotch area to gaze up at me, his eyes glassy and distant, as if he was still sleeping.

Then he fell asleep again. I waited until the morning when it was my time to go to work, swapped my legs for the pillow and left a glass full of water with the meds next to his bed. I tucked him in and stopped at his open bedroom door, glancing behind. His soft snores assured me that he was sleeping peacefully and that the fever had left his body.

I only received a message from him the next morning. Thank you and sorry for all the stupid things I said. I replied with Do you feel better? And he said Yes fever is gone. Will be at work on Wednesday. That was all.

How much of it does he remember? Today is his first day back and I am crazy with the need to see him, be near him. But whenever I show up where he is, he averts his gaze. Something like embarrassment lingers there, confusing me. Maybe he's regretting the things he said, suggesting that we should have sex.

But something about him suggesting that it would all be just fun, irked me to death. Somehow I knew that sex with Noah would never be just fun, it would make me lose my mind. Even thinking about fucking him makes me feral, I'm sure I would be like a dog finally allowed off leash. I knew that if I had a taste of him I would not be able to ever stop.

As I walk around the site, giving a hand to the crew where they need me, the nervous energy is palpable amongst all of us as we finalize everything before the snowfall after which we'll be moving our focus to the interior of the cabins.

And then I see him approaching me. "I may have an issue with the fitting of windows at cabin Five. Do you mind coming to have a look, everyone else seems busy?"

Noah's strictly business voice is finally directed to me today. I nod and silently follow him on the footpath that goes through the forest of mighty, old trees. We soon end up at the cabin at the lakefront, one of a few scattered along the shore. This one has the best view of all the cottages we are building in this area. Tranquil cobalt water ahead, the lush evergreens in every direction and the snow-capped mountain range in the far distance. Instead of the scenery or Noah, I try to focus hard on the job at hand in silence but I keep shivering although the air is still.

I am sure he needs some reassurance. He is slowly retreating, he is running from me, and my heart can't take it. My lungs are forgetting how to function without his presence already, his smiles, his adorable rambling. However I am not equipped for that kind of conversation at this moment when I can't define what I feel myself.

"Look Dylan. It's snowing!"

Noah's cheerful voice surprises me and when I look up and see the flurry of snow dancing in the weak glow of the setting sun in the distance. Through the canopy of pine and aspen branches, I watch as the sky goes from blue to streaks of crimson where the sun dips towards the horizon and then I look back down to his face. I've seen snow falling too many times in my life and it doesn't excite me in the slightest. What I want to see is the wonder on his face. This child-like wonder.

Unspoken things flow between us and in a move I nearly miss, so quick it's possible I imagine it completely, those green eyes of his flit to my mouth. We don't say a word to each other. There's just one instinct, and it's to get closer.

With every breath I take my chest expands and I reach for his hard hat and in one swift movement I pull it free, then do the same to mine. The sound of the hats hitting the concrete floor is deafening but I swear the beat of my heart is louder. At this strange moment the wheres, the whys and whens just vanish.

I raise my hand, place it on his neck, stroking his skin gently with my thumb where the large white snowflake melts into his warm skin. In one movement, I put pressure on his jaw, tilting his head back and his mouth open. Then my mouth is on his and I'm able to breathe again.

He tastes like dawn and something dark and necessary. I kiss him deep and hard, thinking just this once. But this kiss is a swelling wave crawling up my skin. A gust of sea wind sliding along my veins, awakening something in me I thought was long asleep.

When his tongue touches mine, I think my blood might catch fire. It had been so long since I'd felt this, since I'd felt anything. But right there, in front of the very waters that had broken my heart, I feel alive, wanted, and I feel, for the first time in years, that I am not alone.

Our tongues don't rest, they collide and Noah lets out a guttural groan, pulling me harder against him. The lust that I feel at this very moment is flat out painful because I can feel him, all of him. We're both hard as steel, lined up together perfectly as if this is where we were always meant to be.

And now that I've kissed him once, I don't want to stop. I slide my hand along his jaw, cradling his face and kissing him for all I am worth. I hum before pulling my lips from his, pressing my forehead to his immediately planning to go back for more. But first I want to see him up close, to touch every inch of his face and commit it to my memory in case this is the only time I get to do this. My fingertips slide over his skin now wet from melting snow and it's all too much and not enough, all at once. We stare at each other through the haze of snow, Noah is still as a statue, eyes fixed on me like he's afraid he'll miss something if he blinks. Just as I open my mouth to taste him again, the voices of the crew approaching pull me back from the dreamlike state I am in. I can't believe I kissed him, and here, of all places.

I clear my throat and I step back from him, while adjusting my hard-on. "I... I'll go get the housewrap."

Noah's eyes catch the subtle move at my crotch and then he turns away, looking a bit lost. Maybe more than me. It's so strange having him speechless. 

An unexpected strong wave of disappointment hits me when I come back only five minutes later, and two other crew members have joined Noah, helping him mount the window. The kiss already feels like a product of my imagination as I'm onto the next job.

Jobs have been completed, hours passed and the sun had gone down a long time ago, but my office remains lit by only the small lamp on my desk. I'm not sure why but I don't feel like going home to all that empty space tonight. There is always some paperwork to do anyway. I click on a cement order, and wait for the printer to expel the paper but it comes out blank. After checking two drawers in my desk I get up to the small cabinet in the corner to find some ink.

I can't stop thinking about that kiss. I find myself trying to complete some simple task like now, and my mind would just drift to him. This type of desperation is different and foreign to me, and I'm more turned on than I ever remember being. Is it normal to ache so much for somebody?

The knock on my door surprises me, I saw everyone leaving the site, but I tell them to come in.

"Hey."

I look up–it's Noah. Instantly I'm a hostage to his consuming stare. I look at him and his rosy cheeks–it's going to get colder by the day from now on. I can see how his throat works as he swallows and I know he came here for some answers. How do I explain to him that kissing him made my head spin like a runaway car?

"Hey. How come you're still here?" I manage to pull my gaze away from him.

"Just saw the light and wanted to say goodbye."

"Be careful on the road, the snow is picking up the pace." We are too awkward, and it doesn't feel right. I admit I was avoiding him all day at the site afterwards because I couldn't trust myself not to drag him into an empty space somewhere and devour his stupidly handsome face. Now I don't know if I'm glad that he's here or not. It's dangerous to be alone with him.

"It's just a bit of snow," he sheepishly shrugs his shoulder.

"Maybe now, but it can get worse in a couple of hours. I can help you get better tyres for the truck," I turn my back to him and continue digging through the stationary box in the metal cabinet. I just can't look at him, it's too much. "I'll ask my buddy at the car shop and..."

And then I hear his footsteps behind me.

"Dylan, can you look at me please?"

________