"I know I should let you get some sleep," Victor murmured over the sound of the lake brushing up against the sh.o.r.e. "But I'm afraid I don't want to let go of your hand."

"I know the feeling." Randall tightened his fingers on Victor's. Another few moments of silence, dragging out their evening just a little longer. But he could smell the night creeping onward into early morning, and no amount of dawdling was going to stave off time. "I should go," he finally said, regretfully.

Victor sighed, just as reluctant. He stood and gently tugged Randall out of his chair. "All right," he agreed. "This has been... this was wonderful, Randall. We should do it again soon."

He wanted to demand that they do it every night, that he and Victor simply go forward with their lives in good food and excellent conversation and never, ever let go of each other's hands. But, sadly, Randall knew such things weren't possible. If they were, he was fairly certain Jed and Redford would have done so by now. "It was perfect," he agreed as they walked slowly toward Victor's bedroom door. "I can't promise the food will be nearly as good, but maybe this week? I'm not sure if it's too pushy to ask for tomorrow, so-"

"Tomorrow," Victor agreed in a rush. "Definitely tomorrow."

A grin broke out across Randall's face. "Tomorrow," he said, lightly touching his fingertips to Victor's jaw. "I'll cook. Maybe a picnic, away from the herd?"

"Perfect," Victor breathed. He leaned in close to brush a kiss against Randall's cheek. "Good night, Randall."

"Good night, Victor." They smiled at each other, perfectly polite, perfectly chaste. It was the picture-perfect ending to a first date.

With a growl, Randall hooked his hands into Victor's shirt and hauled him in, meeting his lips in a hard, hungry kiss. They stumbled backward, back into the bedroom, Randall kicking the door shut as he shoved Victor's jacket off. The surge of heat that hit him was completely overwhelming, like he'd been waiting to touch Victor for months.

And now he could. Now he was.

"Thank G.o.d we're on the same page," Victor breathed, in the middle of doing his best to get rid of Randall's tie.

Biting at Victor's lips, Randall grabbed his hips and pushed him back toward the bed. "I thought you were just going to let me leave," he laughed, ducking out of his tie, kicking his shoes off somewhere in the corner. There was a confidence in his movements now, a want that he knew exactly what to do with. "G.o.d, I can't wait to get you out of that suit. I've been thinking about it all night."

"I had much the same sentiment," Victor murmured. He hooked his fingers into Randall's shirt, deftly getting the b.u.t.tons undone. "You do look amazing in these clothes, by the way. I'm almost sad to get rid of them." He scowled down at one b.u.t.ton in particular, looking like he was close to ripping it off just because it got in his way.

"If you want, I can keep them on," Randall huffed, a laugh caught up in another kiss. With a light shove, Victor was sprawled back on the mattress, Randall straddling his waist and leaning in to capture his lips, the wet press and pull of them absolutely intoxicating. Together their fingers finally conquered the last of Randall's b.u.t.tons, and Victor slid his shirt off, letting it drop to the side, forgotten.

Victor paused, and though Randall couldn't look directly at his eyes, he could see Victor's eyebrows raised, as if in appreciation. "You are like nothing I'd ever seen before," Victor said, his hands sweeping up Randall's chest.

"Scrawny and pale?" Randall laughed, catching Victor's hands, kissing the tips of his fingers. "Nearsighted? Bad haircut?"

"Beautiful," Victor corrected. He curled his fingers around Randall's, holding on tight. But then he reared up suddenly to reverse their positions, pushing Randall down to lie on his back. "I'm sad that I didn't let myself think of you that way for some time, because by now I might have had quite the list of ideas."

Victor smiled down at him, but his touch suddenly seemed hesitant. Randall realized that his fingertips were dangerously close to the biggest scar that curved over Randall's collarbone, holding still, as if asking permission to touch. With a low, almost frightened exhale, Randall tipped his chin back, exposing the ugly knot of scars low on his neck, the lowest of which was closest to Victor's touch. He couldn't meet Victor's eyes and show him his trust. But he could believe that Victor wouldn't deliberately hurt him. He could demonstrate that in the most basic way he knew how.

He saw Victor lean down and felt the featherlight pressure of Victor's lips against those scars. There was that flash of terror, the drop in his stomach that made Randall want to do nothing but shove Victor away. It took everything in him to hold still through the sharp jump of pain, the phantom memory of teeth tearing through his skin.

Another kiss then, just as gentle as the first. Randall stared up at the ceiling, forcing himself to remain motionless, blinking back the hot ache in his eyes, refusing to let what happened before resurface and ruin this. The vampires that had hurt him were dead and gone. There was no reason to allow them to continue to have this kind of power.

Victor's lips ghosted lightly up to the base of Randall's neck, kissing him again, and again that jerk of pain shuddered through him. But it wasn't what was happening now. Now it was Victor's lips, soft and warm against his skin. Now it was a gentle touch, coaxing Randall to relax, to stay in the moment.

All the pain was nothing more than a reflex. A nightmare haunting him.

Closing his eyes tightly, Randall let out the aching breath he'd been swallowing back. He finally unclenched his hands from the sheets, one going up to lightly thread through Victor's hair. Victor slid his tongue along the marks marring Randall's throat, and he forced himself to see past the pain, to focus only on Victor's touch.

"Everything okay?" Victor whispered against the scar he'd been kissing.

"I think it's going to be," Randall managed with half a laugh, blowing out another shaky exhale.

"You truly are so beautiful," Victor said again. Randall could feel the curve of Victor's smile against his skin.

No one had ever called him that before. And Victor said it with such sincerity that Randall couldn't even find it in himself to doubt the compliment. To Victor, he really was beautiful, as impossible as that seemed. Arching his neck up, legs hooking around Victor's waist, Randall grinned as he bit sharply at Victor's lip. "How about you come up with some ideas now?" Another bite, Randall sucking on his lip to soothe away the sting. "Pop quiz, professor. You have a very eager student in bed, half-naked. What do you do now?"

Victor m.u.f.fled a laugh against Randall's jaw where he was busy kissing it, his lips trailing down to Randall's neck. "Is this a multi-choice quiz?"

"A," Randall's head fell back, a soft moan lost in his chest. "f.u.c.k him. Hard."

"What about options B through D?" Randall could feel Victor grinning against his throat, then the slide of Victor's fingertips toward his belt, stopping on the buckle. A quick little inhale and Randall looked down, gaze lit up with pure want.

"B...." Randall struggled to think of what else could be done in bed. It was hard to think with Victor, positively devilish, between his legs, fingers playing along the skin above Randall's waistband. "Mouths could be involved. Preferably mine. And yours. Both sets of mouths are an option."

"Oh?" Victor deftly undid Randall's belt, sliding it agonizingly slowly through the loops on his slacks before dropping it over the side of the bed. Randall arched up into the next touch, a leisurely drag of Victor's hands over his thighs. "That could be taken a great number of ways."

Everything seemed so heightened, nerve endings Randall didn't even know existed suddenly alight. As if his body began and ended under the slide of Victor's palms, the hot pant of his breath. "I don't even know what that means," Randall admitted in a quick laugh, the sound teasing out into a moan. He instinctively spread his legs, his boxers suddenly feeling tighter than usual. He spared a quick flash of embarra.s.sment over that. It seemed so... rude to be so on display, to be so obvious and in Victor's face. "But yes. Let's do all of the above."

After he spoke, he noticed Victor staring in a way that indicated he certainly didn't seem to mind Randall being, er, rather rude about things. Victor ducked his head to kiss Randall's throat, the briefest contact of his lips before he moved to Randall's collarbone. "Well, I could use my mouth here," Victor said. Going downward, he then gently sc.r.a.ped his teeth over Randall's stomach, an ever-so-slight ache that had Randall shivering in reply. "Or here."

Victor moved back up again, the contact of his lips gentle on the scarring on the underside of Randall's forearms. "Even here."

Randall's muscles jumped under the touch, but the expected pain was fainter now. A ghost of a memory, fading under the heat of Victor's presence.

Then he felt the warm, strong contact of Victor's hands decisively dragging his pants down to bunch them at Randall's knees. With wide eyes, Randall watched him, breath catching in short, shallow gasps with every touch. Victor was still smiling as he moved to Randall's thigh.

"Here too," Victor murmured, shifting aside to pull Randall's pants off completely. "I could spend hours listing every body part I'd like to get my mouth on."

"Well, very good," Randall managed, somewhat thinly. His hands had fallen to grip the sheets, fingers twisted up in the fabric, as if he needed an anchor to hold him down. "That sounds excellent. Good listing skills." Perhaps he was finding it a bit hard to concentrate. At least Victor didn't seem to mind his sudden incoherence.

Victor gave a hum of agreement, and if he said anything else, Randall didn't hear it, because he was too busy arching into the contact of Victor's tongue on his c.o.c.k. He m.u.f.fled a groan around a bitten lip, staring down at Victor.

"Turn over," Victor said, cupping one hand under Randall's hip. "I've only covered one half of you."

"What?" Dazed, Randall ran fingers through Victor's hair, desperate to have contact, to find a way to wrap himself fully around Victor and never let go. "What do you mean? There's nothing... back there."

"There's your back, which I have noticed to be quite well formed," Victor replied, giving Randall's hip another nudge. "It deserves attention too."

One last skeptical look, but Randall rolled over, feeling so much more exposed now. One's back was not something Randall particularly thought about in reference to these sorts of activities. Then again, he had quite liked running his hands along Victor's their last night together, so Randall a.s.sumed he just was lacking knowledge in this area. It did feel more than a little strange to just be sprawled out in bed, naked, while Victor was still clothed.

He felt Victor's lips press against his shoulder blade. It didn't make Randall squirm, but it was nice, an exploration of a part of his body he'd never considered an intimate one. Victor trailed his fingers down the b.u.mps and curves of Randall's spine, as if cataloging each one and storing the feeling away for later. Then Victor's lips were again at the small of his back, dropping light kisses against the muscle that curved down to his hip.

Randall jerked a little in surprise when Victor's hand smoothed across his a.s.s. "If at any point I do something that makes you feel uncomfortable, I want you to tell me," Victor said. Randall found it a little hard to think about that statement when Victor's fingers were tracing the curve of his thighs. Instinctively, he arched up into the pull against his skin, the soft skim of a touch leaving goose b.u.mps in its wake.

Then Victor's lips were on his a.s.s, biting lightly at the curve of it. Randall jumped slightly, shock making him flinch, but the groan that rumbled in his chest definitely wasn't a protest. "What-" was all he managed to get out, hips rising slightly, as if to encourage more.

Victor's laugh had an edge of a rumble to it. "I'm showing you option C," he replied. Randall could feel his tongue then, sliding over the back of Randall's thighs, moving up, a wet, warm trail. Randall shivered, biting his lip hard enough to dimple it, antic.i.p.ation hooking low in his gut. He had no idea where Victor was going, but his body seemed tight and tense, waiting for it.

The gentle press of the point of Victor's tongue against his hole made Randall jump in shock again. He looked back at Victor, shaking his head, not to stop him, but in utter confusion. "I don't think that goes there," he tried to joke, voice low, hoa.r.s.e, barely more than a whisper.

"No?" Victor's grin wasn't as big as before, but there was more of an edge of mischief to it now. "Then I must be lost. Oh well, I may as well explore while I'm here." He did it again, running his tongue once over Randall's hole. The odd sensation was slowly being replaced with tentative want. When Randall tried to answer, all that came out was a low, drawn-out moan.

Obviously encouraged by that, Victor kept doing what he was doing-first just gently licking over where Randall had sworn tongues absolutely weren't meant to go, letting him get used to the feeling and waiting until Randall was beginning to move back into it a little. Victor grasped Randall's hip, slipping around to grasp his c.o.c.k where it was trapped between his stomach and the bed.

That got a whimper from Randall as he went up on his knees, not even remotely sure which way he needed to move-forward into Victor's hand, but then back against that delicious wet pressure of his tongue, both such slow buildups he barely remembered what it was to not be turned on. "Please," he managed, fingers digging into the mattress. "G.o.d, Victor." All he knew was he wanted more of something, whatever it could be.

It turned out that something more meant the point of Victor's tongue again, except this time it wasn't what Randall was coming to expect. This time Victor pushed his tongue inside Randall, a slow drag inside and then out, and then again, his hand moving over Randall's c.o.c.k in time with his tongue. Yes, that felt... very good. So good that Randall abandoned all pretense of holding it together, legs spreading wantonly, back arched to raise his a.s.s to meet Victor's thrusts. A steady stream of whimpers, of moans, was caught in his throat, buried into the pillow.

Victor gripped him harder, his stroking faster now, seemingly determined to drive Randall to the edge as quickly as possible, all the while pushing his tongue in as deep as he could get it. To Randall the sensation was still a little strange, but it felt so good that he'd completely stopped questioning it. He rocked his hips back against Victor, then forward into his hand, babbling senseless encouragement. Pleading with Victor for more, telling him how good it was, how deep he wanted it, how it felt like he was flying apart.

Victor only broke away briefly to dig his teeth into the curve of Randall's a.s.s, murmuring, "You're so beautiful." And then he was back again, the shock of the slide of his tongue that much more pleasurable due to the few seconds of loss of contact. Randall's moans reached a louder pitch when Victor added a twist to his stroking, his thumb rubbing hard over the tip of Randall's c.o.c.k on every drag up. Randall wasn't sure if he was supposed to maintain control, if he was honestly expected to ride this out without losing his mind in the wave of sensations. But he certainly didn't. His body tightened, heat coiling like a spring in his gut, desperate for release. Without a warning, barely before he realized it was happening, Randall was gasping Victor's name, legs shaking, overwhelmed with the force of his pleasure.

Victor kept f.u.c.king him with his tongue the entire way through, one hand grasping firmly at Randall's hip to keep him still. And when Randall started to lose strength in his knees, sagging toward the mattress, only then did Victor let up, moving back with a slide of his hands over Randall's legs.

Randall felt the mattress drop and dazedly opened his eyes to see Victor sitting next to him, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"Thank you," Victor said, his hand making absent circles on Randall's shoulder blade.

"I'm very new to this," Randall managed, words faintly slurred together, "but I'm pretty sure that's backwards. I think I should be thanking you. That was...." No words came to mind. There were no words. So Randall just tipped his chin back and howled softly, a long drawn-out, shivery sound that echoed deep in the very bones of him. That was perfect like a night with a moon and no rain, that was deep and hard like the frost under my paws, that was exactly right, exactly mine, mate and pack and full bellies and warm cave. It was everything good, and Randall didn't know if there was a word to describe it.

"Well," Victor said, "I'm not very good at translating howls, but I'm to take it that was meant as a good thing?"

Turning to face Victor, reaching out to run his fingertips along Victor's sadly still-clothed thigh, Randall smiled loopily. "Oh, yes," he rumbled. "The very best thing."

"I'm glad." Victor's fingers trailed to the curve of Randall's neck. "I'm glad that we finally get to do this, as well."

"Me too." The lethargic bliss of his o.r.g.a.s.m was fading, and Randall gave Victor an appraising look. "You're still dressed."

"That I am." Victor didn't look like he minded. Instead, the curve of his lips showed an amused, satisfied expression. "I was rather too busy to pay attention to my own clothes, unfortunately. Removing yours was much more pertinent."

That wouldn't do at all. With a quick pounce, Randall pushed Victor back, capturing his lips in a heady, deep kiss. Their tongues f.u.c.ked together, sliding one with the other, and their fingers laced together as Randall pinned Victor's arms above his head with one hand. He rocked against Victor in cadenced rolls of his hips, loving the slow burn of arousal now, after the insistent, urgent heat. "f.u.c.k me," he mumbled against Victor's mouth, burying any response into another hard kiss. "Please."

Randall went into eager pursuit of Victor's b.u.t.tons, popping each one out in turn, rewarded by the growing expanse of smooth, pale skin, just barely dusted over in freckles. Victor paused him before he could finish the job, smiling at Randall's huff of frustration. "I'll be right back," he promised, and then he was getting off the bed, moving quickly to the door. Before Randall could further protest the absence, he could hear Victor going through a bag in another room. He returned victorious with lube in hand and tossed the bottle onto the bed. Victor then went to his wallet and pulled out several foil packets.

"Victor." Randall struggled to sit up from where he'd sprawled out on the bed. "Did you just steal s.e.x supplies from Jed?"

"Er. I may have." Victor looked a little embarra.s.sed at that, but not embarra.s.sed enough to prevent him from getting back on the bed to come to Randall, catching him in a kiss. "He didn't have condoms, but luckily I believe in being prepared. Is that all right with you?"

Hand threading through Victor's hair, Randall slid back farther onto the bed, pulling Victor with him. "I'll write a proper thank you note in the morning," he mumbled, much more interested in the fullness of Victor's lips catching between his own. "Dear Mr. Walker. I am ever so grateful for your donation."

Victor laughed quietly at that, the eagerness of his kisses growing with every one. "I'm sure he'd appreciate it." Victor only broke away to pull his shirt off, dropping his hands to his belt next. Randall gladly went to help, gliding his hands down Victor's sides, easing his pants off and curling fingers around his hips.

Randall had to break away to stare, drinking in the sight of Victor. He was all soft, pale skin. The curve of his stomach, the lines of his hips, the way broad shoulders swept down to his chest, he was utterly perfect. Poems were written about men like Victor; songs were sung with the hopes of winning them. And here he was, in Randall's bed. A star captured in a wooden crate.

"You are the most amazing thing I've ever seen," Randall breathed, thumbs painting circles against Victor's arms. "I could live and die a thousand times over and I'd never see anything like you again."

Victor looked like he didn't quite know what to do with the praise-he kissed Randall, the contact sweet and gentle. They turned again, Randall hovering over Victor, the sky to his lovely expanse, kissing and touching as if they were the first beings born to do so. As if this was exactly what their lips and hands had been formed from clay to do.

"You're clearly far too coherent, if you can be poetic," Victor finally said, a fond tone under his words. Randall heard the quiet click of a tube, but he didn't look right then, far more interested in exploring the rounded curves of Victor's shoulders.

He felt Victor's hand trail over his a.s.s again, then the light press of Victor's fingertip against his hole, slick with lube. "If you're sure?" Victor murmured.

Nudging their foreheads together, eyes closed, Randall nodded. "I trust you," he said quietly. "I want you, Victor. You're who I've been waiting for."

"Later, I will tell you exactly how honored I am. But right now I'm far more interested in f.u.c.king you." Randall could hear a smile in Victor's words, the corresponding press of his finger inching in deeper. It was different than his tongue, reaching in farther and a little uncomfortable at first, but Victor was so gentle that the faint ache soon faded. It started to feel wonderful again in short order when Victor began moving his hand slowly. Randall's hesitation faded as Victor whispered soothingly to him, rubbing the small of his back, encouraging him to relax around him.

Letting out a slow breath, Randall dropped his head to rest in the crook of Victor's neck, concentrating on breathing. The ache turned into heat, into friction that built up into, all at once, a small burst of pleasure. Randall rocked forward, startled a little, gasping, his lips catching against Victor's skin.

And then Victor's finger grazed over something that made sparks burst behind Randall's eyes. He dimly recalled hearing something about it, though he'd never experimented with it himself. Victor seemed determined to, though, rubbing hard over his prostate. Rocking back against Victor's hand, Randall's moan was lost in the tight clench of teeth, biting Victor's shoulder, his neck, hard enough to leave marks scattered behind.

The slight pressure of Victor adding another finger never turned into an ache, only a greedy antic.i.p.ation that had Randall gasping. Time seemed to glaze over in a whirl of messy kisses and panted breaths.

"Ready?" Victor breathed against Randall's lips, sounding a little strained with the effort of holding himself back.

It took him a moment to gather the scattered whirl of thoughts, to force them into a neat little line that led to a moaned, "Yes, G.o.d, yes."

Victor rolled them over, and Randall flopped back into the bed in a boneless, pleasure-heavy sprawl. He watched through half-closed eyes as Victor fumbled with the condom, scowling at it before finally managing to get it on, then moved to kneel between Randall's legs, leaning over to kiss his chin. Victor's hands smoothed over Randall's thigh, fingertips dipping down to briefly rub over his hole again before he started easing his c.o.c.k inside.

Randall hissed in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes, torn between the mild ache and the approaching pressure. He grabbed Victor's arms, his grip tight enough to redden the skin. For a moment, a stomach-dropping moment, he panicked. He was so sure it wouldn't fit, that it would hurt, and a pained whimper escaped him. His head arched back, teeth catching his lip, and Randall barely restrained the urge to beg Victor to stop.

"It's okay," Victor said under his breath, going still, his hand rubbing over Randall's stomach. "We'll go as slow as you need. Just tell me when, Randall."

Focusing on his breathing, Randall dropped one hand from Victor's arm, going to grasp a tight hold on Victor's hip. "It's okay," he breathed, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm okay."

He felt Victor's fingers trace lightly over his stomach, then up the side of his c.o.c.k, grasping it lightly. Randall arched into the contact as pleasure started to spark at his nerves again. Victor still wasn't moving, just gently stroking him, coaxing him back to full arousal. A low groan rumbled in Randall's chest, and he pulled Victor closer, m.u.f.fling another low sound as Victor slid deeper inside of him. The rub of his c.o.c.k pressing inward, the friction and the heat, was slowly melting away his tension.

"Victor," he murmured, keeping his eyes closed, not wanting to accidentally meet Victor's eyes. But that jump of fear again, soothed away by Victor's touch, and then another long stroke, and Randall was wrapping his legs more firmly around Victor's waist.

As if knowing exactly what Randall wanted, Victor leaned in and captured his lips in a hungry kiss. "Still okay?" Victor whispered, rocking his hips so slightly that Randall could barely feel it at first.

The ache had faded into heat and need, and Randall didn't so much answer as moan, leaning up to kiss Victor again, hand sliding up to fist in his hair, pulling him closer. He bit Victor's lip, his jaw, growling his want into his skin and the dip of his collarbone. G.o.d, yes, he was okay. He was more than okay. Any worry was gone now, any hesitation lost in the drag of Victor's c.o.c.k, the friction that felt like it was sinking into his bones.

Victor paused again, making Randall give a groan of need-but then Victor did something Randall had not been expecting. Victor growled. It was a tentative little sound, unsure and thready. It was also incredibly hot. Randall growled back, surging upward to pull Victor into a hard kiss, hooking one leg up farther around his waist, as if he could simply tangle himself around Victor completely.

Snarling under his breath, biting Victor's lips, his jaw, Randall rolled upward into him, all but begging for more. And Victor obliged, only too happy to do so, rocking into him with smooth thrusts that took Randall's breath away. Their mouths met in a clash, teeth catching on lips. When Victor lost all of his hesitation, he started f.u.c.king Randall hard, braced over him and panting against his jaw, one hand shakily wrapping around Randall's c.o.c.k.

Randall was howling, he was sure. His hands were digging into Victor's back, meeting him thrust for thrust, gasping with every deep slide of Victor inside of him. It was like riding a wave of white heat, of endless sparks against his skin. Randall wasn't sure where he began or where Victor ended. Their bodies were moving as one, writhing in pleasure, dancing in an endless, gasping reach for something more.

His second o.r.g.a.s.m felt even better than the first, crashing through him, making him latch his teeth into Victor's throat and bite down as he came. Victor continued to move against him, low gasps and stuttered moans leading to a near-incoherent growl of Randall's name as he reached his own pleasure, trembling above Randall.

Victor slowed, then stopped completely, his muscles still shivering in the aftermath. Randall curled his arms around Victor's waist as Victor settled on top of him, their breaths coming at the same time, heartbeats pounding.

"I have no words," Victor managed, tucking his lips into the curve of Randall's neck.

"Now that is new." Randall tightened his hold around Victor, rubbing his thumb along the line of Victor's spine. "I think we should get some kind of award." All he could think of then was how badly he wanted to look into Victor's eyes. To see him fully to know if the satisfaction he felt on his own features was mirrored there.

Randall sat up a little, braced on an elbow, and Victor rolled off him to sprawl on his front next to him. Randall frowned as he looked around the room. Victor's pants were tossed over the edge of the bed, so he reached out, pulling them toward him and rifling through the pockets. Finding Victor's phone, Randall held it up over him, looking straight into the camera, not changing anything about how he looked-utterly spent, completely satisfied, disheveled and loving every inch of it.

"Your turn," he murmured, nudging Victor, who lifted his head from the pillow to reveal half of his face. Victor looked into the camera, a mess of red-blond hair and one visible blue eye. Randall took the picture and sprawled out next to him, both of them meeting the camera's gaze without fear. One of Randall kissing Victor, just because of the look on Randall's face as Victor pressed his lips to Randall's throat. All things they couldn't see themselves, set down into digital imprints.

Settling back beside Victor, head on his shoulder, Randall showed the photographs to him. "You look incredible," Randall murmured, placing a kiss onto his chest. And he did. There was a lightness in his gaze, an amazing languid power that made Randall's breath catch. "I could stare at this all day."