Tiresias and Hermes had a bond like no other—one woven through whispers, laughter, and endless conversations under starlit skies. Hermes, ever the mischievous god of motion and touch, loved to express affection physically. A gentle brush of a hand, a playful nudge, or a warm embrace came naturally to him. Tiresias, however, was different. The seer was delicate in many ways, and physical touch often unsettled him. He preferred closeness in quiet moments, the kind where words and glances said everything.

One evening, as they sat side by side on a marble bench overlooking the shimmering river, Tiresias took a deep breath and met Hermes’s bright eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” Tiresias’s voice was soft, a little hesitant.

“Anything,” Hermes said with a grin, his curiosity piqued.

“I… I want to try something new. Could you—could you kiss me? Just once.”

Hermes’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Your first kiss? I’m honored. I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

He leaned in slowly, giving Tiresias all the time he needed. When their lips met, it was soft and warm, an electric whisper of something beautiful. For a few seconds, Tiresias stayed still, then suddenly he pulled away and turned his gaze to the river.

Hermes’s brow furrowed with concern. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Tiresias swallowed, cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “It’s just… I’m not used to kissing. It feels strange.”

Hermes smiled softly and took Tiresias’s hand in his own—just the hand, careful to respect his boundaries. “That’s okay. We’ll take it slow. I’m here, and we’ll learn together.”

Tiresias looked back, relief shining in his eyes. “Thank you, Hermes.”

And with that, the two lovers sat quietly, the promise of many more gentle firsts hanging tenderly between them.