Lucian Bennett had survived an entire wedding without crying. He considered that a personal victory.

Then Sebastian Hayes carried him across the threshold of their honeymoon suite, and Lucian nearly ruined his record by laughing.

"Put me down. I have legs."

"I noticed," Sebastian said. "You stepped on my foot during our first dance. Twice."

"That was a warning."

Sebastian lowered him gently onto the carpet. Beyond the windows, Manhattan glittered beneath a velvet sky. Their jackets lay over a chair, and the hotel's welcome flowers filled the room with the faint scent of roses.

Lucian looked at the wedding band on his hand. Even after the vows, the photographs, and Margaret's spectacular crying, the gold circle felt unreal.

Sebastian noticed. He always noticed.

"Second thoughts?" he asked.

"About marrying you? Constantly."

"That's reassuring."

Lucian pulled himself upright. "I'm your husband now, Sebastian. You don't get to boss me around anymore."

Sebastian's eyes warmed. He stepped close and loosened Lucian's tie with practiced fingers.

"Still planning to fight me on our wedding night, sweetheart?"

"Depends. Are you planning to behave?"

Sebastian smiled. "Not if you keep looking at me like that."

Lucian felt his ears heat. "Like what?"

"Like you're trying very hard not to smile."

"I'm trying very hard not to throw a pillow at you."

"An important distinction."

Sebastian slipped the tie free and laid it beside the flowers. He didn't hurry to touch Lucian again. Instead, he offered his hand, palm upward, the same way he had at the altar.

Lucian took it.

They had spent years competing over everything: the last pancake, the front seat, whose turn it was to choose a movie. Tonight there was nothing to win. That somehow made Lucian more nervous than any argument.

Sebastian brought his knuckles to his lips. "Nervous?"

"A little."

"Is this your first time being this close to someone?"

Lucian nodded, suddenly unable to invent a clever answer.

"Then we'll take our time. Tell me if you want me to stop."

Lucian caught the front of Sebastian's shirt. "I don't want you to stop kissing me."

"Good," Sebastian murmured. "Because I've been thinking about it since breakfast."

"You kissed me at breakfast."

"Exactly. It wasn't enough."

He kissed Lucian's forehead, then the bridge of his nose, then paused a breath away from his mouth.

"Here?"

"You know exactly where."

Sebastian kissed him.

It began softly, without a trace of their usual rivalry. Lucian's fingers tightened around Sebastian's shirt. When they separated, he followed without thinking, earning a quiet laugh against his cheek.

"You're enjoying making me blush," Lucian accused.

"Very much."

"Sebastian!"

"What? I've waited years to kiss you without having to pretend I don't want to."

The confession settled between them. Lucian had heard versions of it before, on a rainy street and beneath the roses by the sea. It still made his heart stumble.

"Then stop talking about waiting," Lucian whispered.

He kissed Sebastian first this time.

They moved slowly toward the couch, pausing when Lucian's heel caught the edge of the rug. Sebastian steadied him at the waist, and Lucian burst into embarrassed laughter.

"I'm going to fall over before we've been married six hours."

"I promised to catch you," Sebastian said. "I didn't promise you'd be graceful."

Lucian swatted his shoulder. Sebastian laughed, then drew him into an embrace that left Lucian's cheek resting against the familiar warmth of his chest.

For a moment they simply listened to each other breathe.

"Does your back hurt?" Lucian asked.

"Not tonight."

"That's not an answer."

"A little tired. Nothing serious."

Lucian pulled back. "Then sit down, you stubborn man."

"There's my husband. Married me for an hour and already giving orders."

Sebastian sat. Lucian joined him, close enough that their knees touched. He unfastened Sebastian's cuff links and placed them carefully on the coffee table.

"You look like you're dismantling a very expensive machine," Sebastian observed.

"A very expensive machine that forgets to rest."

"I married my physical therapist."

"No. You married the man who knows when you're lying about pain."

Sebastian's teasing expression softened. "I did."

Lucian brushed a strand of dark hair away from his forehead. It was slightly damp after a long day of dancing, photographs, and laughing with their families.

"You were nervous during the vows," Lucian said.

"Was I?"

"Your hand was shaking."

"I was standing in front of everyone I know, promising my life to the boy who once put a frog in my schoolbag."

"It was a toy frog."

"It screamed."

"Technically, it croaked."

Sebastian shook his head. "I was nervous because the moment mattered. You matter."

Lucian's joking reply vanished. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

"I meant every word," he said.

"So did I."

They kissed again, unhurried. Sebastian's hand rested at Lucian's back. Lucian could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing and the quiet certainty in the way he held him.

Outside, the city continued without them. Inside, the hours seemed wonderfully unimportant.

Eventually Lucian stood and offered a hand. "Come on. I have a surprise."

"Should I be concerned?"

"Only if you hate sentimental things."

He led Sebastian to the bedroom, where a small gift box waited on the pillow. Inside was a miniature wooden airplane, carefully repaired, its chipped blue wing restored.

Sebastian stared at it. "Lucy."

"I found the old one in Margaret's attic. She said you kept it even after I broke it."

"You didn't break it," Sebastian said. "You tried to fly it off the roof."

"An ambitious engineering experiment."

"A terrible landing."

Lucian touched the tiny wing. "You gave me ice cream afterward. I thought you were making fun of me."

"You were crying. I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have told me you cared."

Sebastian met his eyes. "I was terrible at that."

"You got better."

"I had an excellent teacher."

Lucian blinked. "Me?"

"You kept asking for the truth, even when I was afraid to say it."

Lucian set the airplane down and wrapped his arms around him. Sebastian held him close, careful and secure.

"I have something else," Sebastian said after a while.

"If it's another list of rules, I'm filing for divorce."

From his jacket pocket, Sebastian produced a folded card. Lucian unfolded it suspiciously.

RULE ONE: NEVER GO TO BED ANGRY WITHOUT TRYING TO TALK.

RULE TWO: ASK FOR HELP WHEN YOU NEED IT.

RULE THREE: ONE GOODNIGHT KISS, MINIMUM.

Lucian laughed. "You really wrote rules?"

"Suggestions. Negotiable."

"Rule three is ridiculous."

"Too demanding?"

"Not demanding enough."

He pulled Sebastian down for another kiss. When they parted, Sebastian looked almost shy.

"You know," Lucian said, "I used to think marriage meant never being afraid again."

"And now?"

"Now I think it means being afraid sometimes, but knowing I can tell you."

Sebastian kissed his temple. "That sounds right."

They changed into comfortable clothes and returned to bed, leaving the airplane on the bedside table. Their conversation wandered from the wedding cake to Evelyn's dancing to the absurd honeymoon breakfast Margaret had already arranged.

Lucian laughed until his stomach hurt. Later, when the room grew quiet, he curled into Sebastian's arms and listened to the distant city traffic.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Don't let go of me tonight."

"I wasn't planning to."

The lamp went dark. Their wedding rings caught one last glimmer of moonlight.

In the morning, Lucian woke tucked against Sebastian's chest, the repaired airplane watching over them from the nightstand.

"Good morning, husband," Sebastian whispered.

Lucian buried his face against him. "Don't start."

Sebastian kissed his hair. "Oh, sweetheart. We're just getting started."

Lucian smiled where Sebastian couldn't see it. For once, he had no argument at all.