"Go change if you want to. It's fine. It'll dry."
"Oh, what do you know about anything?" He slammed the towel down and left the room in a fierce jagged walk, almost an angry strut.
Jason stared after him, and remembered to close his mouth. After a moment, he put down his paring knife and followed. He found Jess on the edge of the bed. He'd gotten as far as pulling his wet shirt off, but not putting the dry one on. He sat there with the heels of his palms pressed against his face, shoulders slumped.
"Jess?" said Jason gently. "Am I being too bossy in the kitchen?"
Jess shook his head, pressing his hands against his face harder. Then he sniffed, straightened up, and shook himself out as if shaking off something bad. But his eyes still looked wounded and upset.
Jason shut the door and sat down beside him, tentative. The bed dipped under his weight. "If it's something I did…you'd let me know, right?"
Jess nodded slightly, but not as though he quite meant it.
"Or something I can help you with?" He rubbed Jess's back very gently with his metal hand, because it was impossible to reach him from this angle with his real hand. He kept the pressure light, and Jess didn't seem to mind.
Dear Jess — he was very good about not reviling Jason's mechanicalized parts. Some men, even if they had their own alterations, still hated it in themselves and in others. It seemed to bring out perversions in some of them — self-hatred, scorn, loathing and rage. Jason didn't need any of that in the bedroom, thanks: he had enough hang-ups and didn't need more.
"Is it Carl?" asked Jason tentatively.
Last night Jess had gone out, and he'd only returned this morning, looking haggard and moody. Jason hadn't liked to ask — still didn't — but there seemed little else it could be right now, and Jess was clearly feeling awful.
"Damn Carl," said Jess savagely. He sprang up and began to pace the room, each step holding anger, his mouth twisting bitterly. "He has a new boyfriend, you know? Oh yes, living with him — because he was on the streets, you know, and Carl couldn't let a friend suffer like that, so he in-invited him home."
His breath hitched, and he sat down again suddenly beside Jason, clenching and unclenching his hands impotently. "But it's more than that, now. He was so…so pleased when he told me. I just stared, I just stood there like a nitwit, him so proud of himself, and I'd held back for so long because of Henry, because of his feelings, because of — oh hell, everything. But now somebody else has my chance with Carl and…and it's such shit!"
He looked at Jason with moody desperation in his eyes, and a hint of tears. "I should've asked him, point blank. I should've fuckin' begged."
"You still can."
"No." He bit the word off, turning savagely away, and wiped at his eyes quickly. He sniffed. "I…It's too late. The w-way they l-look at each other." He crumpled then, and Jason pulled him closer quickly, unable to bear the sight of Jess in silent tears.
"He'd never have loved me," said Jess in a shuddery voice that was nearly level, and yet still broken in so many ways. "He never would have, but at least I'd have kn-known sooner."
"He's a fool not to," said Jason, without thinking. He'd tugged Jess sideways onto his lap and petted his arm and side to comfort him, his good hand cupping the head of soft, rebellious curls.
"Oh yes?" said Jess, his mouth twisting again. Without opening his eyes he added cuttingly, "Then what does that make you?"
Jason was stunned. His hand stilled its stroking. "But you don't love me," he said reasonably. "We always knew our affections both lay elsewhere. Why…why are you putting that out there like I did something wrong to you?"
"No. You didn't." He rolled over sideways in Jason's lap, facing away from him but not leaving. His shoulders were stiff and annoyed, but after a bit, he began to be soothed, and a few moments later, he reached to caress Jason through his trousers.
Jason twitched, shifting uncomfortably. "Jess…do you think that's a good idea? It's not night."
"So?" said Jess defiantly. He twisted around and got off Jason's lap, fixing him with a look. He cocked his head and glared at Jason. Jason saw the broken grief in him and how much he wanted a distraction — and to feel wanted. Even just by Jason. At that moment, he needed desperately to be desired.
Jason could give him that, he supposed. There was nothing on the stove in danger of burning at the moment. He smiled at Jess ruefully, and reached to undo his trousers.
"No, let me." Jess knelt in front of him and pried at his pants as if they were a particularly bothersome problem he'd been wanting to get rid of for weeks. It was a vehement undressing, and then, before Jason could think of the words to protest this, much less form them, Jess's head had gone down to his crotch — his face, purposefully — and he'd taken Jason's cock into his mouth, as if he wanted it there badly, as if he was starving and Jason's cock was the food he most craved.
Jason gasped. His hands rose, and then he dropped them again, gripping the bed hard. If he'd squeezed Jess's shoulders as hard as instinct suggested, he'd have broken delicate human bones with his metal arm. He squeezed the bed hard, and trembled, thrusting up helplessly at Jess's mouth, at Jess's encouragement.
"S-stop," said Jason.
Jess drew off him, and Jason's groan was one of relief but more of dismay.
"What are you doing?"
They stared at each other.
"Let me suck your cock," said Jess, looking defiant and a little scared and shy. His mouth was wet.
"Okay," said Jason, giving in immediately. It had felt very nice. He just wasn't used to that. It had shocked him, and most of all he didn't want to choke or otherwise injure Jess. He had a very big cock. "Don't let me h-hurt you."
Jess snorted, as if that was a bit rich. He took possession and control again.
Jason didn't last long, and he couldn't bite back a moan and a cry as he came. It shamed him, and his thighs were shaking as he tried to calm down, to come down. He looked down at Jess and saw he'd swallowed most of it. But he looked half choked, and his mouth was wet with what he hadn't managed, and his face was red.
"Oh, Jess. Are you…all right?" Jason touched his swollen mouth gingerly.
Jess nodded. He stayed on his knees and leaned his head against Jason's hand, closing his eyes and just breathing for a moment. He slumped, looking lost and wounded and beyond hope. He swallowed once more. He seemed in no need of more for himself.
Had he finished in his trousers, without touch? The thought shocked Jason. He was beginning to think he was really very inexperienced, as he hadn't thought a man would find pleasure that way, with his mouth on another. And yet Jess had clearly wanted him in his mouth. He wondered what else Jess wanted that Jason didn't understand.
He touched Jess's head and shoulders gingerly, stroking his damp hair back. Jess's shoulders shook a little, but his tears were brief and silent, a small concession to hopelessness and shame. He had wanted a man, and that man had chosen another, and it would probably hurt for a long time.
At last he wiped his mouth and got up, pulling himself together a bit, trying to look calmer. He did seem slightly calmer, but also sad and far away. Sure enough, the front of his trousers had a wet patch.
Jason finished closing his own trousers and reached for Jess, pulling him to sit on his lap. Jess didn't resist, as if it was only right to sit there and be comforted. He leaned against Jason.
Jason wanted to touch him, to explore him. He was feeling very friendly towards Jess, but also wary and confused.
Jess hiccupped. After a moment in Jason's gentle arms, he said, "We have to try harder, for your doctor. If the same thing happens for you, you'll never f-forgive yourself." He hiccupped again and closed his eyes as though everything hurt.
"Let's not talk about that now," said Jason, who felt very gauche and ungrateful. He shouldn't discuss another man while he was trying to comfort Jess. Jess, who had just practically eaten his cock and made it feel so good.
It shocked him to his core. His experience with
men had apparently been far more slender than he'd realized. He had, of course, heard of people sucking cock — and knew there were prostitutes who would do so for pay — but to have a man do it on purpose, and want to do it — well, he was shaken.
Jess shifted, putting his arms around Jason's neck and hugging him back. "Thanks," he said softly, his breath tickling against Jason's neck. "It helped. I know it doesn't seem like it, but it helped." And then he slid off Jason's lap. "Come on. I gotta change — and then those potatoes are waiting." He gave Jason a cocky grin and a wink. The grin was only slightly cracked.
Jason still reeled, stunned — and wanting so much to comfort and fix it.
He liked Jess, had always liked Jess, and the urge to protect him and comfort him had grown strong indeed in the preceding months. He touched his shoulder once, lightly, before they left the room, and Jess looked back at him, smiling a little, raising his brows.
But Jason didn't know the words to the question he wanted to ask. And he still didn't know how to fix it.
#
That night, Jess was restless and hard-edged, pacing the room, in his own head again and angry. Jason was afraid Jess was going to do something stupid, like go over there and try to hurt the new boyfriend.
Jason sat down, very calm and still, and watched Jess pace, wondering at what point he should intervene, and how. He'd never really told Jess what to do, just helped him adjust to his new life and asked him for this or that. It had been easy working together, because Jess followed his lead easily, as if it was no trouble at all.
He had a feeling Jess wasn't going to follow his lead right now, and he didn't know how to handle that. He felt like Jess was in a dangerous, brittle mood, and the wrong words or touch would send him flying into a million pieces like a broken knife. He was bleeding, even though there was no wound.
"What?" he snapped, whipping his face around to glare at Jason, scowling fiercely. "I can hear you thinking. Well, it's not happening. I'm going out!"
"What's not happening?" Jason rose smoothly and put his hands on Jess's shoulders. It seemed to calm the other man slightly — that, or looking into Jason's eyes.
Jason searched his gaze without malice or hurry. "What's the matter? Where do you want to go?"
Please don't say Carl's.
Jess gestured, frustrated and annoyed, his movement awkward. He motioned towards the bed. "You'll…want to cuddle and kiss and be…be nice to me." He sounded disgusted — with himself as much as anything. He met Jason's gaze with guilty defiance. "That's not what I need tonight."
He straightened up a little higher and faced Jason with a kind of raw, defiant guilt — as if he knew what he was asking, but couldn't help himself. "I need to be fucked. Hard." He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "And I know you're…you're not into that. So I gotta find somebody who can…who can do that with me. For me."
He looked at Jason, and then quickly away. "Don't look so shocked," he muttered, sounding abashed.
"Is that what you've needed all these nights?"
It wouldn't be the first time, if Jason did that for him. But it felt dirty and scary, like he was hurting someone. He avoided that kind of thing. Jason didn't want to hurt anyone, not during sex. A fight was different: but even then, he didn't want to fight someone smaller than himself. It felt unfair, indecent, and wicked. He was pretty sure fucking Jess would feel the same.
"No, just sometimes," said Jess quickly.
He thought of the way Jess writhed on his finger, the desperation in him during some of those moments.
Jason swallowed hard. No stranger was touching Jess tonight, with his cracked and brittle hurt, his almost violent vulnerability.
"I'll do it."
"Don't be stupid," said Jess, his mouth twisting. "I'm not trying to torture you here. I'll get what I need elsewhere. Believe me, I do not want to be beholden to you for more."
"You're…you're not. Jess," he pleaded. "You've helped me so much. And you must know how lonely I was before."
Jess turned back to him, eyes blazing. "Then fuck me. Fuck me hard because I am desperate. If you can't do it, then let me get out of your hair and find someone who can."
His eyes were wild, scared and intent and desperate. He searched Jason's gaze. "That's what I thought."
He started to move past him, smooth and angry and stalking to the door.
"Wait." Jason caught his arm. A little rougher than he'd meant to. He pulled Jess back to him.
Jess stilled, drawn almost against his chest. They stared at each other.
"You won't let me hurt you. You won't hate me afterwards," said Jason.
Jess shook his head, eyes wide. He appeared to be unable to speak.
"Okay." Jason walked to the door, turned the lock.
Jess sucked in a breath. He began to shuck off his clothes with desperate, finger-trembling speed, his eyes locked on Jason with raw need.
Jason had never felt less sexy in his life, but on the other hand, his cock was apparently ready to cooperate. Jess could do that to him, he supposed. Jess's mouth had been amazing, but to sample his bottom as well, and in such a way — well, how was this happening?
Hands and rubbing off together had been plenty, a happy place for both of them since nearly the beginning. It was steady, settled, beautiful and sweet in that quiet way of friendship, except with just a little more. He liked it, liked the cuddling comfort and easy domesticity of climbing into bed together, having someone to hold and touch, to comfort and be comforted by.
This felt…different. He was frightened. But his cock was hard, so some part of him was ready.
Jess looked at his big cock here in the bright light. There was no missing the greedy appreciation in his eyes.
"It might hurt," Jason warned.
Jess snorted. He flung himself naked on the bed, all elbows and knees and slender back, butt in the air. "Come on, then."
"Oh, honey, I don't want to hurt you," said Jason with such regret in his voice, as he stroked a hand tenderly down Jess's bare back.
"Use hand cream then," said Jess in a short, annoyed sort of gasp. He was responding to the touch. There was something squirming and barely held back about him, as if he liked and wanted this very much.
Jason fumbled around till he found the hand cream they used for chapped hands after washing dishes and such tasks. It was made of the natural oil from coconuts. It was slippery on his hands, melting easily. His fingers trembled.
He knew how Jess liked to be touched inside; it should be easy to start like that. If he used self-control, he should be able to give what Jess needed without hurting him. If.
"All right, um, I'm gonna, um, do this now," he managed, and touched Jess.
The man gasped, pushing back against him with a kind of desperate certainty.
"Let me take my time, okay?" said Jason in a tense, hard voice that was shaking a little. He tried to finger Jess gingerly.
"No," growled Jess. "If you can't do it properly, then let me go!"
"No." He caught Jess's hips and held him fast. "I don't want some stranger hurting you."
Jess gave a wordless snarl, like an animal denied sex.
Jason shut him up, though: he positioned himself and pushed against that hole, even though he felt he hadn't gotten to stretch it nearly enough.
Jess's back bowed as Jason went into him.
It was a tight fit, but not as bad as he'd thought it would be. He'd done a lot of anal play with Jess over the past months. He just hadn't realized it was a way of teasing Jess, giving him not quite enough of what he wanted. Jason felt guilty about that now, as if he'd been teasing him on purpose. But he hadn't. He hadn't known.
He bit his lip to keep from gasping at the feel of being inside this man. It felt shockingly good.
Jess moaned and tried to writhe back on him, wriggling closer, taking more of him with a deep hunger. "Come on, Jason," he complained. "You're not doing it right."
"And you're a bossy little ass," retorted Jason, temper
flaring. "Just let me get used to this."
Jess's groan of frustration turned into a whimper as Jason began to test himself inside Jess, thrusting gently, changing position a little to get a different angle, trying to find that spot Jess liked.
"Ahh!" Jess's fingers scraped against the sheet. His groan was of surprise and pleasure, and his whole body tensed up.
They both stilled for a moment.
Jason could almost feel Jess vibrating with strain. He braced himself with one hand and reached around, beginning to pet and tease gently, to interrupt this tight, almost violent feeling that one or the other of them was about to explode. But his exploring — nipples, chest, hard and leaky cock — seemed to trigger more, because Jess groaned and bent his head and began to thrust himself awkwardly back on Jason's cock.
"Come on. Give it to me," he said in a low voice more like a savage growl. "Just…give it to me! Please!"
There was desperation rising in his voice, and Jason could take no more. The feeling overtook him as well, and he stopped holding himself back so carefully. He began to let go, to push.
Neither of them lasted long after that. The desperate time of need and rush, the movement together — awkward and assured at the same time — the strain and sweat and desperation — and then the final push, the final tug, and they were both flying. It felt crazy, unsafe — and delicious.
Jason bit back a wild shout as he filled Jess, pumping roughly inside him. Jess took it with a groan of needy want.
At last he was full. At last Jason was finished. He drew out, clumsy and hot-faced, wondering how he would ever face Jess again. Jess groaned a little and rolled over on his back, his face slack and transcendent. He was a mess — covered with his own mess, and leaking with Jason's.
Jason's hand fluttered awkwardly, and he looked around for a rag. "Um."
"Leave it," said Jess in a winded, breathless voice. He motioned Jason closer, and Jason moved. He wanted to get away, to hide, to forget what he'd just done to his best friend.
Instead Jess drew him down into a sweet little kiss. Jess's eyes were shining, kind of glazed and sleepy and grateful and feeling good. The color of his eyes was amazing, even more so than usual, as if something had sparked light inside, setting off the little flecks of other colors buried in the pale, whiskey-colored brown irises.
Cold Hands, Warm Heart: steampunk gay romance Page 5