Little by little, Tim begins to relax. Stops feeling less caged, less trapped, and more at ease beneath Matt's lips and touch. He's found that Matt's extraordinarily good at soothing his nerves and making him feel wholly safe even before he realizes he felt unsafe.

He manages to set his wine glass and food out of the way before he can get too distracted. Maybe he didn't expect things to shift to sex right away, but he's not complaining. He's definitely not complaining. This is so much better than talking about Tim's problems or how shitty Matt's day was.

There's nothing rushed about this. Nothing desperate or too rough yet, and Tim doesn't mind it. Matt's going slow, fingers sliding deftly over shirt buttons, and Tim takes his time sliding his hands up Matt's chest and shoulders and neck, fingers pausing on the rims of his glasses

It's a silent question. He likes being able to see Matt's face, see his eyes. He's never seen anything prettier than Matt without his glasses.