“You want to...watch me poop?” Wedge summarizes, and Tycho barks a startled laugh at his choice of words. Wedge smiles a little, glad to have the tension that's been building in the room since this conversation started ease a little. “Um, excrement is maybe a better word – that turns you on?”

“Maybe?” Tycho's face has been a deep red for several minutes, and it doesn't change now. “I think it's more the intimacy of it? Not that we haven't been intimate before, that sounds silly, but-”

“But it's a fantasy. They don't always make sense.” There's a low-lying burn of nerves in Wedge's gut when he considers giving Tycho this, but he thinks of things he's asked for in the past. Things Tycho had given him without question, things they'd both ended up enjoying far more than either expected.

“Right,” Tycho agrees, sounding relieved. “I don't know...I just keep thinking about it and wondering.”

Wedge gives him a smile. “I'm not judging you, you know. Sure, this is, well, different, but I'm glad you felt like you could tell me.” He hesitates for only another moment, then jumps. “Let's try it.”

Tycho's head jerks up. “Really?”

Wedge's smile widens even as the butterflies in his stomach double. “Sure. What could it hurt?”

The look on Tycho's face is a little overwhelmed, a little turned on, a lot grateful. He tugs Wedge into a fierce kiss. “Fuck. Okay. Thank you.” He grins goofily, eagerly. “When?”

“Um.” Wedge flushes, taking stock of himself. “Not for awhile, I think?”

Tycho laughs a little and squeezes his arm. “Whenever you're comfortable. Whenever you're...ready.”

“I'll let you know.”

“Okay.” Tycho looks at him for a few moments, and the smile, the flush of mixed pleasure and embarrassment on his face are so endearing. “You're the best, you know that?”

Wedge grins. “You've said.”

Two days pass. Wedge feels Tycho's eyes on him constantly, can hear him silently wondering when it will happen, though he doesn't ask. Every time Wedge steps into the the refresher, the thoughts only get louder.

Wedge is nervous. He tells himself it's silly – after all, how many intimacies have he and his partner not shared over the years? But as he sits there on the refresher and empties himself, he imagines Tycho watching, and that twist is back in his stomach, the heat in his face. He tries to unravel it, to find out if there's anything there besides nerves, if there's maybe a hint of the curiosity and excitement Tycho feels when he thinks of the experience, but he's still not sure.

The evening of the second day, they return to their quarters after dinner and a late sim run. They're turning down the covers when Wedge blurts, “I want to do it tonight.”

Tycho whirls to face him, and his voice scratches dryly when he says, “Yeah?”

Wedge nods, putting all his steely determination into it. “Yeah.”

“Now?” Tycho asks, a little of his uncertainty back.

Wedge nods, biting his lip as some of his own feigned confidence drains away again in the face of the reality.

Tycho's brow furrows as he steps closer and touches Wedge's cheek. “You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I know.” Wedge lays a hand over his and draws up a smile. “That's why I'm willing to try. I trust you, too, Tycho. I know if I follow you, I might find something unexpected that we both enjoy. And if it doesn't work for us, we won't do it again.”

Tycho nods and pecks him on the lips. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Now, come on.”

Wedge takes a deep breath and leads the way into the refresher. Tycho follows, and though he'd known it was going to happen, it still feels odd. Wedge hesitates in front of the porcelain bowl, fingers on his belt. “Do you...need me to do anything special?” he asks.

Tycho shakes his head, hands twitching where they rest at his thighs. He doesn't seem to know what to do with them.

“Okay.” Wedge breathes out and undoes the belt, telling himself to do what he just does normally. Unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulls them and his underwear down, and sits. The seat is cool against his skin, and it takes him a moment to raise his eyes back up to meet Tycho's.

His partner edges further into the bathroom, placing himself in the small space between Wedge's knees and the wall. “You sure you're okay?” he asks.

“I'm okay.” Wedge smiles at him. He actually feels more okay than he thought he would – now that he's here, the butterflies seem to mostly have gone away. Perhaps it's the surreality of it.

“Good.” Tycho smiles back, eyes bright. Wide. Dark.

Arousal, Wedge realizes, and he shivers a little like he always does under that look. Without diverting his gaze, he tries to concentrate on what he's doing. For a second, performance anxiety overwhelms him, and he's afraid he won't be able to. But it's just Tycho here, he knows, just he and Tycho, just them, he's completely safe and free of judgment no matter what.

He bears down and lets his body take its natural course. He lets out a breath as it happens. Relief. He's been waiting most of the day for this moment, keeping himself to make sure he could manage.

Tycho's eyes flutter as he realizes what's happening, gaze intense.

A second later, a soft plop and splash.

Tycho lets out a strangled little sound and, spasmodically, a hand presses to the front of his pants. He's hard, Wedge realizes in a rush, and suddenly there's heat in his own gut.

Wedge isn't finished. “Touch yourself,” he rasps.

Given permission, Tycho opens his pants and takes himself in hand. Wedge bears down again, drinking in every minuscule twitch on Tycho's face as he does, as he pleasures himself, as Wedge gives him what he needs. His own cock just stirs between his legs, and that's a relief.

Another plop, and Wedge exhales, empty. It's over.

But it's not. “Stand,” Tycho says raggedly, and Wedge does, automatically reaching for the cleansing paper, but Tycho lets go of his cock and nudges Wedge's hand aside. “Let me?” he asks.

Wedge freezes but nods silently. What wouldn't he let Tycho do? He trusts him implicitly.

Tycho rips off a string of tissue. His left hand rests on Wedge's waist while his right reaches around, moves lower, and gently wipes him clean.

Wedge's breath trembles out of him. They've touched each other in every conceivable way in the years they've been together, and yet somehow this feels the most intimate. He understands now what Tycho meant, why the idea of this was appealing.

The paper drops into the bowl, and then Tycho's eyes move away. He steps closer, bringing their bodies into line, hooks his chin over Wedge's shoulder – and looks. Wedge closes his eyes, a little overwhelmed as he feels his partner shudder against him. Tycho's cock slides teasingly against his own, fully hard now, and he wants to thrust, but he's not sure Tycho is ready for that yet.

Tycho moves again, his hand coming back to Wedge's ass. A finger slides slowly down the cleft, plays across the furled muscle, and Wedge feels himself twitch against it. A tiny, distant part of him wants to protest that Tycho shouldn't, that he isn't clean, but isn't that the point?

He starts when Tycho breaks the silent tension by whispering in his ear. Four simple words he's heard so many times: “I love you, Wedge.”

And that's when he moves. A fierce kiss, hands shifting to grab Wedge's hips, and he thrusts again him, drawing out matching gasps at the sudden physical pleasure. Wedge wraps a hand around them both, keening softly as he shoves into the tightness, Tycho hot and hard alongside him.

It's not long at all before they're both coming, right on top of each other, white painting their stomachs.

For long moments, they just stand there, still wrapped around each other, breaths gradually slowing as they come down from the high. Finally, Wedge lets out a slightly hysterical giggle.

“Well, that was something,” he says, fully aware of the understatement.

Tycho chuckles as well, pressing their foreheads together. “You really are the best. Fuck. Even in the refresher, you're ridiculously sexy.”

Wedge laughs again. “It's the intimacy,” he echoes Tycho's words from two days ago. “You were right.”

Tycho nods, still grinning. “I don't know that we're going to do this all the time,” he says. “But...maybe special occasions.”

“Maybe special occasions,” Wedge agrees, having no idea what on any planet such an occasion might be. But, honestly, he's not against finding out.