Chapter Sixteen #3
Vincent let out a slow breath as he stared at the ceiling. That was the opposite of Adam’s attitude. Every few weeks he had either subtly reminded Vincent that he had more than enough money to reduce the scarring or argued with him over why he chose to keep them as an ugly reminder.
Jasper crawled up Vincent’s body until he could press his nose into Vincent’s neck. “And I’m going to be a paramedic, remember? Open wounds don’t bother me. Scars are pretty compared to those.”
That earned a weak chuckle. “Do you have a scar fetish?”
“I dunno. I might have a Vincent’s-scars fetish,” Jasper replied, somehow sounding cheeky and genuine at the same time.
Vincent hesitated, rubbing his hand back and forth along Jasper’s forearm before grasping his wrist. No point in waiting. If the scars had a chance of being a problem, he’d rather know now, not after he’d become even more attached. He tugged Jasper’s hand down and then under the hem of his shirt.
Jasper lifted his head fast enough he nearly clocked his skull on Vincent’s chin. He pushed up on his other elbow, staring at Vincent with wide blue eyes. “You’re sure?”
He wasn’t, but he nodded anyway.
Jasper’s tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip as he stared at their partially covered hands. He spread his fingers against Vincent’s stomach and didn’t try to shake off the grip on his wrist. “Really sure?” he asked, his thumb swiping down and poking beneath the sweats.
“It’s fine,” Vincent said, his lips twitching when Jasper frowned at him.
He slid his free hand up to the back of Jasper’s neck, tugging him down and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Really,” he added, meaning it. He wasn’t bothered by the thought of Jasper touching his scars as much as he was Jasper’s potential reaction to seeing them.
When Jasper’s fingers walked farther up his stomach, he nudged them to the right, keeping his breathing steady when they brushed the edge of the scarring.
He still had feeling in most places, but a spot over his ribs had suffered the worst of the damage.
The ticklish, tingling sensation of fingertips on his skin vanished as they seemed to jump over that area.
“Is—Are these burn scars?” Jasper asked, his brows drawn together in concentration.
“Mm.”
“Second or third degree?”
Vincent let out a shaky breath that was almost a laugh.
“Second, mostly, but some areas were third,” he said, watching Jasper’s expression from the corner of his eye.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Pity, maybe.
Not this open curiosity, but maybe he should have expected that from someone planning to get a paramedic license.
Jasper had mentioned that he was using his scholarship to get a BS in biology until he could afford the EMT courses—all while juggling a part-time job—and hoped to take the NREMT exam by the end of next year.
Vincent suspected their available time together would become even more constrained then, but for now, Jasper’s blue eyes were focused on the path of their hands beneath the shirt, mapping out the extent of the damage.
His fingers twitched against Jasper’s arm as he considered pulling his shirt off—he’d shared this much already—but the visual was far worse than they felt.
“All this from an accident?” Jasper reached the top of Vincent’s chest, his fingers brushing the end of the scar on his shoulder. He tilted his head, tracing it down Vincent’s arm as far as the sleeve allowed.
“It was a bad accident. I was drunk.”
Jasper glanced up, the intense furrow of concentration still on his face. “Point-one-nine kind of drunk?” he asked quietly.
Vincent nodded, not really surprised that Jasper made the connection. “Same night.” And his injuries and how he’d hurt Matt weren’t even the worst part of that night.
And with that sobering thought, he reached his limit. “Breakfast,” he murmured, releasing Jasper’s arm to land a light smack on his hip.
Jasper slid his palm over the scarred area again as he pulled his hand out, pressing a quick kiss to Vincent’s cheek. “What am I making?” he asked, rolling off the bed.
“Whatever you won’t burn,” he said, chuckling as he caught the pillow Jasper threw at him before it could hit him in the face.
“I’m not that bad at cooking,” Jasper muttered as he disappeared down the hall.
Vincent slumped against his pillow, rubbing his forehead and failing to ignore the phantom touches lingering on his chest. He gave himself five minutes to breathe and sort his reactions, then rolled out of bed.
There was still the chance that seeing his scars could change Jasper’s tune. At least his chest was more of a mess than his back.
By the time he showered, dressed, and headed downstairs, the eggs were scrambled and the bread toasted.
When Jasper finished eating, he shifted in his seat. “So… I was wondering.”
“About?”
“If I could see you outside of the weekends.”
Vincent glanced up, surprised yet again. After the rocky start Friday night and their conversation barely twenty minutes ago, he figured that request was still a couple of weeks out.
He already knew Jasper’s class and work schedule well enough to know where he had a few chunks of time available. And he couldn’t deny he liked the idea. Plus it would give him a chance to make sure Jasper wasn’t suffering a sub drop.
“Dinner on Wednesday,” he said, finishing off his toast.
Jasper grinned. “Are you cooking?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Absolutely.” Jasper stood, pressing a quick kiss to Vincent’s cheek before taking both their plates to the sink.
“That should give you enough time to decide if there are any more changes you want to make.”
Jasper returned to the table and leaned against the back of Vincent’s chair. “Like punishments?” he asked dryly.
“For starters,” Vincent replied in the same tone, reaching up to flick Jasper’s nose.
Jasper caught the finger between his teeth with a soft growl. “Can you make lasagna on Wednesday?” he asked, moving around the chair to sit across Vincent’s lap.
“Maybe.” Vincent found himself nuzzling into Jasper’s neck without consciously deciding to, his hand settling on Jasper’s thigh.
“Mm. We have time for another round, right?” Jasper asked, burying his fingers in Vincent’s hair.
Vincent hummed as if he were considering it and fought back a smile. “We already hit your once-a-week quota.”
“Technically we can start a new week right now,” Jasper said with a wiggle of his brows.
Vincent sat back with a soft laugh. “Oh? You’re going to wait until Sunday to have sex again?”
Jasper made a face. “No. I’m changing it to twice a week.”
“You got off last night too.”
“That doesn’t count!”
“No?”
“No.” Jasper bit Vincent’s shoulder. “Only counts if you’re inside me.”
“Ah. So you giving me a blowjob counts, but not me giving you one. I see.”
Jasper lifted his head and rolled his eyes. “Hilarious.”