After they were both spent Ford nestled in next to Macnair on the bed. He was still a little disgruntled about the mismatch between Macnair's unblemished skin and his, but it wasn't worth dwelling on when he had the other man's arm around him and his chest beneath Ford's fingers.

I love this, Ford thought. He wouldn't say that, though; there wasn't enough distance from the accidental confession on Saturday for him to feel comfortable using a word like love, even if he was referencing a moment instead of a person. He didn't want Macnair to think he meant something more serious about it and get scared off, which was a concern no matter what he'd written in his letters to Ford since then.

Macnair's body stiffened against him, and for one hazy panicked moment Ford thought maybe he had said it out loud after all and that was what Macnair was reacting to. Ford hadn't meant to say anything, but he hadn't meant to say anything at the club, so who was to say it hadn't happened?

"What?" he asked, pulling back from Macnair's chest slightly with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

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