As they stumbled up the steps, Eli felt like he had swallowed one of the balloons on the floor. How long, he wanted to know. How long had Ambrose felt like this? How many days or weeks ago could he have been kissing him, feeling his hand in his, watching him fumble to open the bedroom door as he shot a jittery smile over his shoulder—

He resolved to ask him later and focus instead on the present, which in this particular moment involved pushing Ambrose against the bedroom door and kissing his neck.

“Eli, I…” Ambrose gasped. As the words vibrated against his lips, Ambrose’s grip on him tensed. Eli pulled away immediately.

“You alright?” He looked up at Ambrose, who didn’t quite meet his gaze.

“I haven’t…” he mumbled, then let out a breath and mustered the courage to look him in the eye. “I should tell you I haven’t done this in a while.”

Eli smiled up at him, then lifted Ambrose’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “You mean you haven’t been using your tuxedo and your mysterious aura to seduce people this whole time?”

“No. Ambrose’s grin tilted. “Just you.”

The deliriously happy sensation in Eli’s chest expanded, pressing on his ribcage until it was almost hard to breathe. He leaned in, wanting to place his hands, his lips everywhere at once—but he forced himself to settle a gentle kiss on Ambrose’s cheek instead.

“I won’t do a single thing you’re uncomfortable with,” he said, squeezing Ambrose’s hand. “I promise.”

In turn, Ambrose lifted Eli’s palm, closed his eyes, and kissed the heart line by his fingers. “I trust you.”

Eli couldn’t have thanked him enough for making him slow down. The new pace allowed him to savor the details he may have otherwise missed, like the catch in Ambrose’s inhale as he kissed the hollow of his collarbone, or the softness of his skin as he dragged his fingers down his ribcage. He made every move deliberately, enjoying his time there before seeking Ambrose’s nod, or whispered yes, to take the next step.

And when Ambrose gained confidence and turned the tables—when the man was on top of him, lips at his throat, murmuring please as he tugged at Eli’s waistband—Eli let his own consent tumble from his mouth like a prayer.

The way Ambrose set about exploring him nearly made Eli laugh. It was just so him. Though he said nothing, his eyes carefully assessed every reaction of his, logging what Eli enjoyed and what he didn’t. Filing it all away, it seemed, in precise mental notes for later use.

And the smile? The proud little tilt of his lips that appeared whenever Eli said his name, or leaned into his touch? He could only attribute that to Icefall.

“Hey,” he breathed, grasping the man’s shoulder, “your turn. Come on, who’s,” his words faltered as Ambrose kept going, “who’s birthday is it, anyway?”

Ambrose gave a hum before stopping. His blue eyes flashed as he looked up at Eli. “Watching you has been the best birthday present you could have possibly given me.”

Eli groaned and let his head fall back on the pillow—but before Ambrose’s smile could get too confident, he flipped him over with his hips, sank onto his chest, and carded his fingers through his hair.

“No way that’s true,” he whispered against Ambrose’s mouth. “Just wait.”

His focus instantly honed in on the man beneath him, watching with no small amount of pride as he relaxed, then unwound at his touch. He couldn’t wait to do this to him again, and again, and again—

“Eli,” Ambrose’s breathing grew ragged, stuttered, his hands tightening, “Eli—“

Hearing his name in Ambrose’s throat shot ripples through Eli’s spine, and he moved faster.

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss just below his ear, “yes, let go, it’s okay—“

Ambrose melted, and Eli crashed along with him a moment later, burying his shout into the man’s shoulder. Ambrose’s shaking arms wrapped around him, tethering him to the warmth of his body and nothing else as the sensation rolled through him in waves.

Once Eli had collapsed into him and they slowly caught their breath together, Ambrose peppered his skin with a trail of kisses going from his collarbone to his cheek. Eli could feel the upward curve of his mouth in every one of them, and he turned to catch the last one with his lips. “Happy birthday, Ames,” he mumbled.

“Thank you.” Ambrose cupped his cheek. “That was truly more than I ever could have hoped for.” His face clouded for a moment as he shifted a damp strand of hair off Eli’s forehead. “I have one more request, if I may.”

“Yes?”

“Stay with me tonight?”

Eli nodded, his nose brushing Ambrose’s. He hadn’t even considered leaving the man’s bed that night. “Of course.”