“Maybe I want to ‘reveal myself.’ You ever think of that? Maybe I just wanna not think about it for a while. Despite” — Hank raises his voice now to whine — “all of these goddamn mirrors.

“And I don’t gotta take my shirt all the way off. That sounds... kinda nice.”

As does getting this resort-furnished suit all sweaty: a nice little ‘fuck you’ to the guys in charge, although they seem richer than god so Hank doubts they’d care.

But still.

“Nice of you to offer. Willing to take on my burden, and all that.” Hank starts unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly. One hand tugging at his too-tight collar, loosening the tie. “Maybe I wanna feel it, though. Feel what you do.”

Because he does. It’s just hard to say that, despite everything — both this place and himself — he’d like to try.

“Never thought hearing someone call me ‘not unappealing’ would sound so sexy, but I guess here we are.”

He eyes Alivian’s chest: the slope of his waist. The curves of his pecs. He wants to touch — and he will.

“Oh, I can show you all right. Just tell me what you want. Or...”

Is that a stupid question? It’s probably a stupid question. If Hank hadn’t had sex before, his answer to that would be ‘everything.’

“I can start real slow,” he offers.