29 for Jarrich?
Since this one (”first time”) doesn’t specify first time doing WHAT, I chose to interpret it in the corniest way possible. Sorry, that’s just the kind of person I am!
It’s not the first time the words have slipped out, unbidden. In the moments immediately following an orgasm, when Jared is notoriously loose-lipped. Oh, Donald, Donald, he thinks, scoldingly, as he gathers his wits about him. There you go, getting in too deep, confessing your love too quickly, making a fool of yourself again.
“Um.” Richard scratches at his neck. He shifts away, toward the opposite side of the mattress.
Sometimes, thinks Jared, not being touched feels like a slap.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t mean to pressure you.”
“It’s not that, it’s just - ” Richard shuts his eyes. His skin is flushed. He can’t seem to look at Jared. “I feel so dumb. I’ve never been in love before. I’m not even sure it’s, like, for me, alright?”
“Oh Richard. Of course it is.” Jared moves closer. He dares to wrap an arm around Richard, and is delighted to find that Richard holds onto him tight. “Darling, darling,” he asks, “whatever makes you say that?”
“You know. Like.” Richard’s voice is small. He draws air-quotes with his fingers. “'Being in love means never having to say you’re sorry.’ But I fuck up constantly. I’m going to have to say I’m sorry all the time.”
Jared almost laughs. “Oh Richard. It’s okay with me if you mess up.”
“When I mess up.”
“Fine. When you mess up.”
“Okay, okay. Will you - say it again? - let me - ”
Into Richard’s ear, “I love you.”
“Jared, I’m in love with you so much.”