by Ashlyn Kane
There was a long pause, and then Jonah finally said, “Okay. So, he asked to fuck you. Am I right? And you said yes?”
Emerson felt himself go hot. God, to hear Jonah say it like that filled him with mortification. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get words out, so he nodded instead.
“When you were drunk and upset?”
Emerson nodded again.
Jonah reached out and gripped Emerson’s chin in one hand and turned Emerson’s face to look at him. Jonah was frowning when he said, “So he fucked you even though you obviously weren’t with it enough to consent?”
Emerson frowned in return. He couldn’t let Jonah think that way. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t make it sound like he forced me. I said yes. I—it was a mistake, obviously, but it was mine to make.”
Jonah didn’t look appeased. In fact, he looked even angrier.
Emerson swallowed hard and pulled his chin from Jonah’s grasp. “Can we just—”
“Forget it? No.” Jonah ran both hands through his hair. He took a deep breath and then let it out in a sigh. He sounded calmer when he next spoke. “Okay. Did you enjoy it?”
Emerson felt himself flush once again. He couldn’t possibly respond to that.
“Right. I’m guessing then that it was about as good as the other first time you’ve mentioned.” Jonah let out another sigh. “So, is it something you want to ever try again, with me? I mean, not right now or even next week, but eventually? Or we can put it aside to discuss later.”
“No,” Emerson blurted, then continued before he could stop himself. “I—I do want to. I want you inside me,” he told his shoes. “Just not—”
Jonah cut in, though it was kindly done. “Okay. So, that’s something that we’ll talk about later. Until then, is there anything else I should know? Any no-goes?”
Emerson looked up, surprised. “No.”
Jonah gave a decisive nod. “Good. Now, it’s my turn. Though you probably figured some things out.”
Emerson felt hot and uncomfortable at the thought. “Jonah, I don’t—”
Jonah interrupted him again, this time with a strange, upbeat cheeriness. “Yes, you do. Jesus, Em, this is a conversation you should have with all new partners. Now, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, between Evan, Elijah, and Xie, I’ve had all the combinations of masturbation, oral, vaginal, and anal sex. Before that there’s not much to tell—I went down on a couple girls in high school, got a few hand jobs.”
Jesus, and Emerson hadn’t thought it was possible for his face to get any hotter.
Jonah ignored his embarrassment. Instead, he continued with that cheery voice, though now a smile was curving the corner of his lips. “And I’m guessing that it makes you uncomfortable to think about or talk about this. But you need to know two things. One, I’m clean. I’ve been tested recently, and I’ve not slept with anyone else since Elijah. Two”—he paused here to grin wide—“I like sex a lot in all its shapes and forms, so don’t be embarrassed about asking for what you want. I don’t want you to ever be too embarrassed to ask me to do something you want to do.” Then his grin turned saucy, and he scooted closer to Emerson. His hands came to wrap around Emerson’s hips in a gentle caress. “For example, if you asked to, say, give me a blowjob, or if you really wanted me to suck you, I’d be happy to help you fulfill either desire.”
“You would, would you?” Emerson said, unable to help the smile from settling on his own mouth. He shifted forward, sensing that Jonah would let the conversation end now. He lifted his face up to be kissed and placed his hands on Jonah’s chest to encourage him.
Jonah gave a happy, humming moan of, “Yes.” He wrapped both arms around Emerson’s waist. “I would.”
“Hm, then what about if I wanted you to kiss me? Would you do that?”
Jonah’s grin was filthy when he murmured, “Oh, I could be convinced.” Then he obliged, and Emerson stopped worrying about it.
§
“DO YOU have to?”
“Yup.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Couldn’t you stay a little longer?”
“Classes start up tomorrow, Em.”
Emerson gave the pout that he was quickly learning Jonah found alluring.
“Just think, in four more months I’ll be done at USF, and then I’ll be home again.”
“For good.”
“For good,” Jonah agreed. “I’m not going to start traveling again. Well… not alone, anyway.”
Emerson couldn’t help the shy but pleased grin that stole over his face.
“I wish I could kiss you goodbye. Again.”
“Jonah, we talked about this.”
“I know….”
“Not in public in Texas, you goof.”
“I know.” Jonah let out a dramatic sigh. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I want to pull you close and kiss you hard, and maybe get some groping in.”
“Groping?” Emerson asked, blushing furiously, though still pleased by the attention.
“Yes, groping. Your ass is made for it. Very round, very squeezable.” He tilted his head, craning it a little as if to get a look at Emerson’s ass while remaining in front of him.
“Jonah!”
“Fine, fine. Besides: mission accomplished. Since I’m not allowed to kiss you, this was the only way to leave you red and flustered.”
Emerson knew his face was red, mortified. “Jesus, Jonah. Get on the damn plane, would you?”
“Alright, alright,” he said with a smirk, and then his eyes went soft. “Love you.”
“I know. Miss you.”
Jonah gave a very large grin. “I know.” Then he was kissing his fingers and blowing a kiss as he slowly backed away. Emerson stayed put, watching until Jonah finally turned his back and boarded his plane.
Chapter 15
NOW
“OH, GOD, there he is,” Natalie sighed when they’d cleared the crowd standing in the lobby. “He is such a dreamboat.”
Jonah gave her an arch look. “‘Dreamboat’?”
“I could talk about how much I want to lick him if you’d rather.”
“Ew, no.” Jonah made a face. “Gross.”
Natalie bristled. “He is not! He is a perfectly gorgeous specimen of masculinity.”
Now there was a point Jonah couldn’t argue with. Matt Greguol was tall, though not quite as tall as he was, blond-haired and broad-shouldered, with good, strong features and smiling blue eyes. Also—“Totally straight,” Jonah said immediately. “No question.”
“Seriously?” she asked him, obviously impressed. “How can you tell? Teach me, O Wise One.”
For a minute Jonah forgot his misery and almost smiled. Maybe it hadn’t been such a terrible idea to allow Natalie to talk him into this. “Well, for one thing, no self-respecting gay man would show up to his own gallery showing in that T-shirt, even if he did fill it out that well.”
“Jerk!” Natalie laughed, slapping him in the chest. “Circumstantial. Give me more.”
“Okay, okay. See those guys over there?” He motioned as discreetly as possible with a nod of his head.
“Sure.”
“I know a couple of them through Emerson.”
“Gay?” Natalie asked.
“Out and proud,” Jonah confirmed. “Anyway, see the expressions on their faces?”
“They look like you that one time Mom took you to the pet store and told you that you couldn’t have a puppy.”
“Bingo,” Jonah said. “Also, he is totally staring at that girl’s cleavage. Despite his obvious art student status, definitely a boob man. You’re in, Tits McGee.”
“Jonah!” She elbowed him sharply in the side. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, but only because I still need your help. What do I do?”
There was no way, Jonah thought, that she could possibly be serious. But one look at her face confirmed it. “Nat, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but
I am sort of the last person on earth who should be giving anyone advice right now.”
Then Natalie’s earnest gaze slid off his face to a point somewhere behind him, and her pleading pout turned into a small smile. “You’re right,” she agreed, nudging him to turn around. “I think you’ve got better things to do.”
Jonah said, “Oh,” because seeing Emerson again after a week was like a punch in the gut. He barely heard Natalie pat him on the back with a “Go get ’em, tiger” before she made herself scarce, and then Emerson was throwing back a glass of wine and worming his way through the crowd to stand in front of him, looking sad and tired and fucking beautiful.
If Jonah weren’t still so angry (hurt), he’d have kissed him.
At least Emerson looked as miserable as he felt. Jonah felt a vicious stab of satisfaction at that. “Hey,” Emerson said in a rush, like he had to force it out.
Jonah kept his voice soft, because he didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t. “Hey, Em.”
Emerson licked his lips, shifted his feet. Jonah stood statue-still. “I—Jonah, I—I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
Part of Jonah wished he hadn’t. This thing between them was delicate, and there were a lot more ways for it to go wrong than there were to fix it. So while part of him was desperately, fiercely glad to see Emerson again, to talk to him, the part of him that was afraid they really couldn’t fix their relationship would have been happier not to. He shrugged and gestured across the room, where Natalie was cozying up to Matt. “Natalie brought me along for gay bait.”
Emerson followed his line of sight to where Matt was explaining a clay sculpture of a boy with wings strapped on with real leather to Natalie. “Oh,” he said. “She could have just asked me. Matt may be pretty, but he’s ruler straight.”
Well, duh. The sculpture was wearing pants. Jonah fought the urge to sigh. This was not the conversation he’d been hoping to have. He let his gaze flicker around the room. If Emerson wasn’t going to talk, Jonah was not obligated to listen. “Right.”
“Right,” Emerson echoed. Jonah looked at him despite his resolution not to and found that he was fidgeting, staring at his hands. “So.” Eventually he seemed to gather himself up to say something of slightly more import. “Could we—could we maybe go outside and—and talk?”
Jonah was so not ready for this, but life rarely waited until you were ready. He’d learned that lesson well enough. “I… that’s probably a good idea, yeah.”
Emerson nodded, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and chewing on it the way he always did when he was upset. “Okay. I—follow me, I guess?”
§
THEN
“—EVER since Greg walked in on them in flagrante, as you would say, things have been complicated. Which, by the way, what were they thinking? The kitchen of all places? Zack has a bedroom, you know? Anyway, Greg’s still mad at Zack for sleeping with Hayley, Zack is still avoiding Greg out of guilt—which has led me to feel like I’m stuck as an extra in Mission Impossible more than once—and Hayley wouldn’t stop pestering me about how long I’ve known Greg’s in love with her, so I spent a lot of time hiding in my room.”
And Emerson’s friends accused him of being drama-prone. Jonah smiled. “Emerson. Is it possible you’re a little stressed out?”
Emerson huffed over the phone. “We can’t all be Zen masters of calm, you know.”
Oh, what the hell. Jonah wasn’t giving up on one of his fondest fantasies just because Emerson kept shooting him down. “I know something that will take the edge off,” he said suggestively.
“What?” Emerson obviously hadn’t caught the innuendo.
“Emerson,” Jonah said patiently.
A beat, and he could practically see Emerson blushing. “Oh,” he said. “That.”
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”
“What, you mean you just want me to sit here and, and….” Emerson’s voice got very quiet as he hissed, “And j-jerk off while you…?”
Jesus. Wasn’t that a wonderful mental image. “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to contribute, but yeah, that is exactly what I’m suggesting.”
“But…,” Emerson floundered. “What’s in it for you?”
You mean aside from the excruciatingly hot noises you actually can’t stop yourself from making? “Emerson,” said Jonah patiently, “the idea of you getting off to the sound of my voice is kind of its own reward.” He waited a second for that to sink in. “It’s on my top ten list, okay?”
“Okay,” Emerson said quietly.
Jonah opened his mouth. “Wait, was that ‘okay’ as in—”
Emerson sounded perfectly mortified. “Yes.”
Swallowing around a suddenly dry throat, Jonah went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. “God. Okay, close your door. Lock it if you can. I don’t want any interruptions.”
Emerson’s shaky exhalation rattled down the line. “Okay. Now what?”
“Are Zack and Greg home?”
“I think Greg is out with Hayley. She’s—it’s a trial date or something? Honestly, I really don’t get it. After spending the last week listening to her angst over Greg, I’ve never been more glad that I’m gay—”
“Emerson!”
“What?”
“Zack?”
“He’s downstairs.”
“Turn your radio on, then,” Jonah decided. “Not too loud, but nobody gets to hear the sounds you make except for me.” He thought about it, about what it would be like to touch Emerson knowing that every time he made a sound, everyone in the house knew it was because of Jonah. “Unless I’m there with you.”
Emerson’s breath hitched. “Jonah—”
“Do you have lube?” Jonah interrupted. “No, of course you do. Get it and lay down on the bed.” He downed his water quickly and went to his own bed, lying down on his back with one arm behind his head.
He waited. “Are you ready?”
“Um.”
That was probably as good as he was going to get until Emerson was a little more into it, and that was okay. Jonah had been planning this for ages. He knew how to get Emerson to loosen up. Letting a lazy down-home drawl creep into his voice, he said, “What are you wearing?”
“Jonah!”
“Aw, Em, you know I couldn’t help myself. But tell me. I wanna know. I wanna picture you, what you look like spread out on the bed for me. I’ll go first if you want.”
A long, shaky breath. “That… that would be okay.”
“Alright. You know how I told you the thermostat is on the fritz? Well, it’s about eighty degrees in here, Em. I had a cool shower when I got home from the gym, and I was still damp when I got dressed, so my clothes are kind of sticking to me. Anyway, like I said, it’s hot, so I just put on one of my sleeveless shirts and some jeans.” He paused a minute to let Emerson have some time to process before dropping the bombshell. “No boxers.”
Emerson swallowed audibly. “Oh.”
Jonah prompted, “Your turn.”
“Okay. Um. It’s Saturday, so. I haven’t been out. I’m—it’s my old high school gym T-shirt.”
Jonah licked his lips. “It’s a little too small for you now, isn’t it?”
Emerson said, “Um. Maybe?”
He’d worn it to bed once at Christmas time; it was tight across the chest and arms and sometimes rode up in the back. Jonah was a fan. “Nice. What else?”
“Jeans?”
“Which ones?” Please let it be the ripped ones. He knew they were Emerson’s favorite, though he never wore them out of the house. A good thing, since they’d probably cause a riot.
“The ones with the holes in the knees.” Jonah mentally fist-pumped. “Um, socks. Underwear. That’s it.”
“Are you hard?”
“Jonah!” Emerson squawked.
Smirking to himself, Jonah decided that if he hadn’t been before, he was well on his way now. “I am,” he said, easing his hand out from behin
d his head and snaking it down his body to pop open the button on his fly.
“Yes,” Emerson whispered.
“Good. That’s the point, you know. Get you hard, get you all worked up for me while I tell you all the things I want to do to you. I really do have a list, you know.” And while sharing the whole thing would probably only get Emerson to hang up on him, there was no reason not to share bits and pieces. “You wanna know what’s on it?”
Breathy, high-pitched whine. “I—yes.”
Atta boy, Jonah thought. “Are you touching yourself, Emerson?”
“Not… not yet.”
“Are you waiting for me to tell you?” The silence indicated that he was, which was actually unspeakably hot. “That’s so—God, Emerson, that’s on the list, you know. I want to watch you touch yourself for me, watch you make yourself come. You’d be so embarrassed, wouldn’t you? But that would only make it better.”
Deep, shuddering breath followed by a strangled little moan.
Well, that answered that question. Jonah pulled down his zip. His jeans were just too damn tight. “Unbutton your fly, but don’t touch yourself yet.” Now, how to draw out as much pleasure from Emerson as possible…. “Here’s how this is going to work. I’ll tell you some things on my list, and you tell me if it’s something you might want to try. As your reward, I’ll tell you what to do, how I want you to touch yourself. Does that sound good?”
Another moan. “Okay.”
“Good. Hmm, well, I already told you one of my favorites: watching you get yourself off for me.” Jonah could just see it: Emerson spread out on his back on the bed, red-faced, eyes screwed shut as he touched himself. “Would you do that for me, Emerson? Let me watch you?”
Emerson groaned. “Yes,” he whispered.
Jonah’s dick jumped, scraping unpleasantly at the teeth of his fly; he winced and pushed the fabric down. “God, Emerson, I wish I could see you right now. Take your jeans off. All the way. Socks too.”
A few rustling sounds made their way over the line, and then finally Emerson’s voice, breathless and raw. “Okay.”
