The repeated nights where Arthur dreamed, imagined, or dozed off to the memory of Erron were countless as well. The feel of the other man against him in that damned cold cabin was a memory he drew on when his blood ran hot, or his mind full of despair and loneliness. After Eliza, and then Mary, he never thought he’d feel this way with another person again, let alone with a man.

He didn’t know, not until he saw him ride up just a little while ago, but he did now. He loved Erron, if he’d ever say it aloud, maybe not. However, he knew what he had with the man was special as anything he’d had with Mary. No commitments, no fear of old age, their eternities could be shared together, while also going about life as they wanted to. Erron was a wanderer after all, he knew that life, and Arthur didn’t expect to tie him to him. If he saw him occasionally throughout the years, that’d be enough.

The gift was not only appreciated for what it was-deliciousness that he’d savor on toast or just the occasional spoonful-but also that it came from Erron, that he thought of him when he bought it.

Arthur held the jar to his chest as Erron pulled him close, feeling the prickle of stubble tickle his stomach. He stroked his fingers through the man’s dark hair, grinning at the question.

“Until sunset. Want to fool around?” He asked, fingers dipping down the other’s collar to his back, caressing the skin.