Chapter 23 Ivan #2
One more stroke, thumb swiping hard over the sensitive head, and I come with a choked gasp, hips snapping forward. Thick pulses spill over my fist, streaking the tile, washed away instantly by the water but not the feeling—the bone-deep release, the shudder that wracks me from shoulders to thighs.
I stay there, forehead pressed to the cold tile, breathing hard, cock still twitching in my hand.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I've never been attracted to anyone before.
Not really. There were girls at school who flirted with me.
Sarah from my electrical theory class who always sat next to me, that girl Jenny who asked me to prom senior year.
As if I could afford to go to prom. At least I had a good reason to turn her down.
I figured I was always just focused on other things. Work. Searching for Jay. Building a future. Going to school. I didn't have time for dating, for any of that.
But this isn't about priorities or focus or any of the excuses I told myself. This is about want. Raw, undeniable want. And I want Jay in a way that scares me, in a way I've never wanted anyone.
Does he know? Can he tell? I've been staring at him all day, finding excuses to touch him, pressing against his back on the motorcycle and never wanting to let go. Does he think I'm weird? Does he think there's something wrong with me?
What would he think if he knew I was jacking off in the shower to the thought of him? Would he yell at me and tell me to get the hell out of here?
The thought makes my stomach clench with fear. Jay is straight. I think. I don't even know what Jay is. He hasn't mentioned dating anyone, but I haven't asked either.
What if he's gay?
I shut that thought down hard because I can't let myself hope.
I can't let myself imagine that Jay might feel the same way, that he might want me the way I want him.
Because if I'm wrong, if I make a move and he pulls away, if I ruin this fragile thing between us—I'll lose him.
And I can't lose him again. Not after everything.
Whatever I'm feeling, I need to shut it down and never let him know. Jay is too important to me for me to do something idiotic and fuck this up.
I finish up quickly, scrubbing at my skin with the cheap motel soap. Trying not to think about the fact that Jay was just standing in this same spot minutes ago, water running over his body. Trying not to think about his wet hair and his bare chest and the way the towel clung to his hips.
Goddammit! I can't stop thinking about him and my cock is already getting hard again. The images are there anyway, burned into my brain, playing on repeat.
When I finally turn off the water and step out, I realize I didn't bring clothes in with me. I wrap a towel around my waist and try to calm my racing heart before I open the door.
Jesus Christ! This is so fucking bad.
Jay is sitting on the bed when I emerge, wearing boxers and a worn t-shirt that's so thin I can see the outline of his body through it.
He's scrolling through his phone, but he looks up when the door opens.
His eyes sweep over me, from my wet hair down to my bare feet, and I swear I see his throat work as he swallows.
"Feel better?"
"Yeah. Thanks." I grab the clothes Jay lent me. The sweatpants and t-shirt from last night and pull them on quickly, acutely aware of his eyes on me the whole time.
When I'm dressed, I sit down on the bed, leaving space between us.
Not much since the bed isn't that big but enough that we're not touching.
The room feels smaller than it did before.
I'm acutely aware of how little clothing we're both wearing, of the bed we're about to share again, of everything that happened today and everything I'm feeling.
Man, this is awkward as hell.
"You okay?" Jay asks, and I realize I've been sitting here in silence, staring at my hands like a dumbass. "You seem tense. Or nervous. Or something."
"I'm fine," I lie. "Just tired, I think. Long day. A lot happened."
"Good tired or bad tired?"
I glance over at him. At the concern in his dark eyes, at the way he's leaning slightly toward me like he wants to close the distance but doesn't know if he should. At the fading bruises on his face and the way his hair is starting to dry, falling messy across his forehead.
"Good," I say. "Today was a good day. Maybe the best day I've had in a long time."
His lips curve into a small smile. "Yeah, it was. For me too."
We get into bed the same way we did last night. Side by side, shoulders touching, faces turned toward each other on our pillows. I can hear him breathing, slow and even, and it's the most comforting sound in the world.
"Ivan?" His whisper is quiet in the darkness.
"I'm glad you're here. I keep thinking if you hadn't found that article, if I hadn't gotten arrested, if you hadn't driven here—" He stops, swallows.
"We might never have found each other. And that scares me.
How close we came to just missing each other forever. "
"But we didn't miss each other. We were almost meant to find each other again. And we're here now."
"Yeah. We are."
Silence stretches between us, but it's not uncomfortable. I should close my eyes. I should try to sleep. But I can't stop looking at him, at the shadows on his face, at the curve of his lips, at the way his chest rises and falls with each breath.
"Jay?"
"Yeah?"
I don't know what I want to say. I don't know how to put into words what I'm feeling, this tangle of emotions I can't sort out.
"Nothing," I say finally. "Never mind. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Ivan."
I close my eyes. I try to slow my breathing, to relax my body, to fall asleep. But I'm aware of every inch of space between us, of the warmth radiating from his body, of the soft sound of his breath, of the fact that if I just moved my hand a few inches to the left, I could touch him.
Sometime in the night, we drift toward each other again.
I wake up once, briefly, to find my head on his chest, his arm around my shoulders, our legs tangled together in a way that should be uncomfortable but isn't. His heartbeat is steady under my ear, a reassuring rhythm.
His hand is resting on my back, warm through the thin fabric of my shirt, his fingers splayed across my spine.
I know I should move. I should put distance between us before this gets more complicated than it already is. Before I do something that I can't take back.
But his heartbeat is so steady. And he's so warm. And I've never felt better than I do right now, wrapped in his arms.
I don't move. I close my eyes and press closer, tucking my face into his neck, breathing him in. And I let myself have this.
Just for tonight. Just for a few more hours.
And if I dream about Jay without his towel, about his hands on my skin, about things I've never let myself want before—well. No one has to know except me.