The Rabbit Hill Inn was another hour to the west, just north of the Connecticut River. The inn was a campus of several nineteenth century buildings spread across a fifteen-acre estate. The main house was a sprawling Greek revival with four tall white columns. Dan’s eyes rose up them as he pulled the Toyota into the parking lot.

“Fancy,” he said, his eyes a little wide. Freya smiled. The website claimed they were the sixth best hotel in the country, thirtieth in the world. The name had tugged at Freya as she looked for a nice hotel, but she couldn’t quite place it. As they walked up the path to the main entrance, they passed a carved wooden sign. At once, she remembered.

On one of the first pages of the big black photo album at home, there was a picture of Lassa and Randall from before they were married, standing next to the Rabbit Hill Inn sign. Lassa’s hair was almost to her waist, and Randall had a ridiculous push broom mustache. They were dressed for a formal dinner. Freya had seen the picture a hundred times. She remembered every detail.

In the photograph, there was a thick carpet of snow on the ground behind her parents, frosting the top of the sign with a divot melted on either side by the lights. Randall smiled like he’d just won the lottery, and Lassa looked up at him, something young and raw in her face.

They’d taken that picture twenty years ago, and now Freya was walking past the same sign, her steps weighted with a sense of melancholy inevitability. She’d been drawn here, captured in this cycle.

Freya wondered if she would wind up taking the same picture with Dan. It felt almost like she was stealing something. She had a senseless desire to turn around and tell Dan they were going somewhere else, but she had already paid. She was worried Dan would notice the tumult on her face, but he was too awed by their surroundings.

The unease persisted, and Freya almost hoped some hassle at check-in preventing them from staying, but everything was arranged. She’d put the room in Dan’s name because he was eighteen. The clerk checked them in without so much as a raised eyebrow, walking them to their room as she rattled off the amenities and local attractions.

Freya had booked the Tavern Secret room. It was a little more modern than the others, which Freya thought were too aggressively homey. The room was all birch and leather, with a giant whirlpool tub and a gas fireplace.

She watched Dan sweeping his eyes around with his mouth slightly ajar, like an orphan who had stumbled into a chocolate factory. It made her smile. She enjoyed the dynamic of being the one making all the decisions and bringing him to all these places.

His eyes fell on the giant bed, and her heart beat a little faster. She felt a flicker of hesitation. Freya wanted to settle in first, wanted to be sure.

“Let’s get dinner,” Freya suggested, and she saw a little relief in his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t ready either. Maybe it was something you were never ready for.

They went on a little tour of the grounds. The furniture was hardwood in warm reds and burgundies, the rabbit motif everywhere in paintings, carvings, and cross-stitches. While Dan wandered around the common room, she slipped over to the front desk for a few moments to ask for toothbrushes. The clerk offered to have them brought to the room and, on impulse, Freya made an additional request. She smiled as she rejoined Dan.

Dan was afraid they were underdressed for the hotel restaurant, but it was a quiet Saturday night, and the hostess was happy to seat them. Like the night before, Freya and Dan attracted eyes. They were much younger than the other guests.

There were quiet conversations murmuring all around them, everyone seemed excited about the snowstorm. Freya heard a German accent, and she tried to pick it out of the hubbub. At a table close to the window, two couples were engaged in a heated discussion over a study on rising sea levels. They were close to breaking into an argument. Freya strained to hear.

The two couples were an odd pairing. The skeptic was a rotund man with heavy jowls sitting beside a disinterested woman who had obviously had a lot of work done. Facing them were the German couple, who wore their long gray hair in ponytails. The man’s hair thinned at the top.

The Germans were adamant that the study was significant. They were trying hard to convince the other couple. Freya wished she sat closer. She was sure the man with the jowls was a congressman, but she couldn’t remember his name.

Freya turned her attention back to Dan, not long afterward the server brought a loaf of hot oatmeal bread with cinnamon butter and glass mugs of spiced cider. Snow fell outside, the fireplace blazing, and Dan inhaled deeply. The bread was fresh from the oven and smelled wonderful.

As he ate, Dan forgot to be uncomfortable. Freya watched the candlelight dancing in his eyes, and she focused on the moment, willing it to stay in her memory forever. When Unity returned, she wanted Dan to have that image of him, to see how beautiful he was.

The bread barely whetted their appetites. Freya had a spicy goat ragù with homemade pappardelle and Dan had the persimmon duck. The duck was perfectly rare at the center with a carmine-red glaze over a layer of crackling fat. Dan offered her a piece and, as she chewed, she shut her eyes, her mouth full of sublime dancing.

They shared a goat-cheese ice cream sandwich for dessert, the wafers were dense and dark, there was a thin layer of raspberry preserves spread over them. It was perhaps the richest thing Freya ever tasted. As they finished dessert, their eyes kept meeting, anticipation darting between them. They held hands and watched the snow blowing in the night. A half-inch had already accumulated on the sill. She had a childish hope they would get snowed in and never have to leave.

Freya’s steps felt very light as they made their way back to the room. When they opened the door, the lights were all low. She’d completely forgotten her request. Freya had only asked them to fill the tub, but the room glowed with candles, and there were swirls of pink, magnolia scented foam on the surface of the water. They really went all out here.

Dan had an expression like he was about to crack a joke, and she raised a hand and put a finger over his lips. They were impossibly warm. His eyebrows raised, and she smiled at him.

No words.

They had talked enough. Freya walked to the tub and began to remove her clothes, taking off her sweater first and neatly folding it. Dan’s cheeks colored, and he looked away. She waited until he glanced back at her and made a beckoning gesture.

Look at me.

He was rapt as he watched her undress. There was a hard look of concentration around his eyes as he tried to commit the moment to permanent memory. Freya had felt so confident a moment before, but now, she felt so unsure about everything; her breasts were too small, her hips too bony, her butt too flat. Dan was gorgeous and could do so much better. What the hell was he doing here with her?

Freya fought against the shy desire to turn her face away, telling herself she knew better. She’d felt what he felt, wanted what he wanted. She’d made him come with just a touch, and she felt a swell of pride at the thought. She ran her hands down her breasts, along her sides and across her hips, stepping out of her panties. Dan made a wounded noise, his eyelids fluttering. Her eyes shot to the swelling in his pants.

Dan took a deep breath and undressed, undoing the buttons of his shirt. If anything, he was more self-conscious than Freya was. Dan was so lean from running, her eyes ran from his collarbones to the slight jut of his sternum, the ripple of his abdominal muscles under a slight layer of fat.

She remembered the figments of his uncertainty from the night before, he wasn’t big enough, wasn’t as built as some of the other guys. Yet, as Freya stared at Dan, she had never wanted anything more. She wanted to run her hands over every inch of him.

Dan undid his belt, and her eyes were drawn in like a whirlpool. He stepped out of his slacks. She spotted a damp spot of arousal on his boxers already. A moment later, they stood naked in front of each other.

Freya had felt so adult earlier, booking the hotel room, eating dinner with the older couples. Now, they were young, with no idea what they were doing. Each of them fought the urge to cover themselves. There was a tremor of movement at his shoulder. She felt like she blushed with her whole body, radioactive with awkwardness.

Their eyes kept sliding away, and her glance drifted to his penis. She wondered how badly it would hurt. The idea of that being inside of her seemed at once impossible. His eyes were on her, the muscles in his jaw tensing and, as he took a deep breath, his erection twitched.

Was he fighting to hold himself back?

Freya was simultaneously worried Dan would lose control and aroused by the idea. She took a deep breath to calm down. He was doing the same thing, and they both smiled, acknowledging their awkwardness. It was stupid to be so anxious, yet they were.

Their eyes met, and they stepped towards each other in one synchronized motion, hearing a distant sound. It was the harbinger of Unity. The deep breath seemed to ripple on and on, and they heard it through two sets of ears, taking it in through two sets of lungs. They let the breath go together and, in its place, was a hollow feeling of relief. The desire to return to Unity had been with them every moment since it was broken, and now they had it back.

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At last.

It was delicious to become one, they stepped forward and embraced, marveling at the way their bodies gave way to each other. They had to hold on tightly as the wave of feeling threatened to take their knees out from under them. His erection was a hot and insistent line against her belly. He soaked in the sensation of her being wet, each of them reveling in the feeling of being wanted.

It had been a long day and, as they got close, they could smell each other. It was something they were supposed to be embarrassed about, to cover with deodorant, but the reality was different. Freya liked the way he smelled, she wanted it all over her. They inhaled, and he drew her in. Her heartbeat quickened to match his, see his pupils growing larger. Everything was coming into perfect focus.

A base, animal thing awakened between them. He stiffened, and even Dan was surprised by it. It was a new feeling, harder than hard, and she relished the straining, insistent throb. His eyebrows raised with alarm. If they kept potentiating each other like this, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

Freya released him, watching the head of his penis bob on its own, little spasms passing through his stomach muscles. She turned towards the bathtub and climbed onto the ledge. It was so strange to watch herself from behind. Dan’s eyes were locked to the sway of her buttocks, stealing into the space between them.

The water was still very hot, just a touch above what Freya could bear, and she sat on the wide edge of the tub and lowered her foot into it by careful degrees. Dan climbed to the other side, facing her, and lowered his own foot, but he pulled it right back out. It was too hot for him. Together, they recognized that, as a theme, she could take more than he could.

Flickers of machismo told him he should man up and be tougher, but the folly could not persist within Unity. Neither of them could fool the other, neither could fool themselves any longer.

Freya lowered herself into the water, inch by scalding inch. When it climbed her thighs, Dan gasped at the sensation of the hot water touching her lips. His eyes watched her skin reddening beneath the water as she saw flashes of brilliant heat behind her eyelids. She slipped down until her whole body was in the tub and her hair drifted around her like a halo. Her body was the sun, and Dan adored her.

His thoughts had a perilous, almost religious angle to them, and in protest she thought that she was only Freya, just a girl. Unity unraveled her false modesty, a manifest feeling she could be something more.

A goddess.

Together, they recoiled from the serpentine idea, feeling they’d drifted off the rails. To escape the thought, Dan lowered himself into the water, bracing himself against the sting.

His feet brushed against her legs, and Freya sat up a little to make room for him, thrilled by his touch. He slid all the way into the water and shut his eyes, and it was her turn to pour adulation onto him, his turn to feel ascended.

They let the moment bake into them, trying to decide what they were, what it all meant. This wasn’t just vanity, or a delusion. They had become more than human, something new and unique.

They let the lofty thought fade and returned to the moment. Freya had never taken a bath with anyone else. Dan drifted into early memories of being bathed with his sister, and he tried to shift away from them. Freya beamed acceptance, but Dan denied, trying to push away his hunger for Angie’s ghost.

Not tonight. We have forever.

The thought was co-generated. Pieces of it rose from each of them, trying to express the sense of grandeur settling over them, the whispering feeling this was more than just an interlude. This was something eternal.

Dan’s fingers were brushing against her ankles, rising up her shins, and she felt his intent. He wanted to slide his hand up her inner thigh. He wanted to know what she felt like, and she wanted him to know, to give that feeling to him. Freya had the same want, she wanted to hold his penis, to feel it pulsing in her hand.

The thought brought a flash of shame from Dan, casting him back into the last time someone had held him that way. His thoughts twisted inward, and he turned his face from her. There was a quaver in Unity. Freya felt a plunge of despair, and that made Dan feel worse. He was afraid he was ruining everything.

Freya focused on how she felt, radiating acceptance, and trying to bridge the gap between them. He felt what she thought, he believed her, but somehow it wasn’t enough.

She took his hand. He was so wrapped in doubt the movement surprised him. His eyes found hers, and she guided his hand between her legs.

Touch me, she beamed.

There was something undeniable about the way she’d acted, and it pulled at something deep in him. He brushed his fingers against her as delicately as he could, and she gasped. He traced his index finger down her lips, feeling the wetter-than-wet slickness of her arousal.

She cried out. Even the lightest touch he could manage was more than she could bear. Dan’s hand stopped and a low moan escaped his mouth. They were bound in it together. They marveled at the way she felt. Freya had never been touched that way before.

All of Dan’s uncertainty died in that touch. The buried fears he wouldn’t like the way a girl felt were gone, boiled away in the heat of his sudden desire. He wanted more, wanted her, and she basked in it. It felt so good to be desired.

Feeling him harden anew, Freya ran her hand up Dan’s left thigh. He gasped; certain he would come if she even touched him. Freya brought her fingertips as close as she dared, until their breathing grew shallow. Dan began to tremble. She pulled her hand away, feeling her heart pounding in time with his.

She wondered what it would be like to see him come, and she visualized it, imagining his whole body tensing up, his cock twitching as he spurted into the bath. Dan trembled in response, the thought alone was enough to bring him to the edge, and it gave her a surge of elation. She could make him come just by thinking about it. She felt so powerful.

Freya didn’t press on, she drew back, watching Dan carefully, and he made a distraught sound. Behind it, Dan liked that, liked to be denied. There was a sudden electric awareness. She’d been afraid sex would be something that happened to her, something she would have no control over. But she was in charge, and she liked it that way.

She felt his weak denial, the sense he was supposed to be the active one driving this forward, but they knew better. An understanding quickened between them. This was who they were, and they could never hide. Her thoughts held Dan like a tight grip, and she took a deep breath and focused on letting go. Dan moaned with intermingled relief and protest.

They backed away, trying to cool off, and she was surprised by a second wave of Dan’s desire, an echo from getting so close to coming and not quite arriving. It was a powerful urge, and she wondered how he ever stopped on his own.

It felt like all this had only taken moments, but the water was lukewarm. Their fingertips pruned. Freya climbed out of the tub, and Dan turned to watch the water streaming off her body. He thought she was so beautiful it was impossible not to believe him.

As she stood there dripping, he climbed out of the tub and took the towel from her hands and dried her off. She hadn’t expected it, and there was something about the gesture that made her feel small and safe, and Dan felt overjoyed he’d given that to her. She giggled as he covered her head with the towel and tussled her hair.

Glowing with joy, Freya took another towel and dried Dan off in turn, captivated by the hard muscles of his shoulders. On impulse, she embraced him from behind, standing on her toes and kissing his neck. Dan shut his eyes and relaxed into her. Their skin was tacky with dampness. She slipped her hands down his chest, tracing along the sides of his stomach. She focused entirely on Dan’s feelings, the sensation of her breasts pressing against his back, her fingertips brushing lightly over his skin, dancing along the edge of tickling and thrilling.

Responding to an impulse from him, she bit down lightly on his neck. Their hearts raced, their breathing quickening in unison. Her fingers were his pubic hair, roaming through the damp curls, and she slipped her hand around him and took hold.

Dan made a startled sound. Freya was caught in the feeling, thrilled by the way she could make his whole body react with the slightest movement. She held the lever that could move the world. In between the flares of sensation, Dan tried to push back, to assert himself. But he wanted it too much. It was impossible to pretend to be anything but what he was.

Freya reveled in the sense Dan was so much bigger and stronger than her, but he melted in her hands. She slid her hand up and down and his whole body thrust along with her. She relaxed her grip until she barely touched him. He whimpered in shameless protest.

Mine, Freya pulsed, tightening her grip in tune with the possessive thought, and there was a wordless rush of agreement. Dan wanted this, wanted to be hers. He’d let go completely, and she pulled him closer and closer, submerged in his feelings and forgetting herself. He was almost there. Her mouth was close to his ear she heard her own breathing through his ears.

“Come,” she commanded.

He cried out and exploded. Everything went white, through the glare she felt him pounding in her hand, each pulse like the beat of a drum, and then she was caught in it. She was being stroked by herself, he whispered in his own ear, they came together, sailing upward into the storm.

For a few breathless moments, all was confusion, just gasping and pounding heartbeats. The world was oriented wrong as the aftershocks of their orgasm diminished, and they realized their legs had given out. They were tangled up on the bathroom floor.

I didn’t know I was like that, they both thought. They’d suspected before and fantasized about this, but they were still unprepared to be confronted so viscerally. Dan felt a thin shame he’d gotten off so quickly, that he was so…

Submissive. It was an effort for him to think it, and he was mired in shame, looking away from her, but she turned him towards her.

Stop, you’re perfect. You’re exactly what I want, Freya asserted.

They surveyed the damage. She had a bruise forming on her hip, and he’d banged his elbow during the fall, and there was an impressive arc of cum across the tile floor. Sheepishly, he got up and mopped it with the towel.

“I’m sorry. I thought we were going to…” Dan mumbled, so caught in his thoughts that he spoke aloud.

“We are,” Freya assured him. She smiled and led him to the bed.

They curled up together in front of the fire like a pair of cats, nuzzling closer and closer in search of a supreme comfort. Freya felt so grand before, and now she enjoyed feeling small, her body surrounded by his.

His hand was draped over her side, cupping her breast. Dan’s other arm was beneath her neck. She rested in the crook of his elbow. She felt pins and needles as Dan’s arm fell asleep and shifted until he felt comfortable again. The candles flickered, the gas fireplace whispered, and the wind sighed against the door as snow drifted down to lay a pristine white blanket over everything. They were safe here.

When they closed their eyes, there was only warmth. Unity faltered, but they were so close they barely missed it. They drifted to sleep.