Jackson smoothed his hand over the front of his shirt, feeling the buttons to make sure he hadn’t missed any or slipped them into the wrong holes. Content, he checked his pockets for his wallet and phone, and did one last check of his hair to see if it felt like it was all in place. He sighed. His heart thrummed in his chest, and he knew he shouldn’t be nervous, but after everything that had happened with Benji, that guy Greg at the party, and Dan lately, he couldn’t help the anxiety that buzzed through his body.
Molly whined, sensing his unease, her tags tinkling as she shifted, but she stayed in her bed obediently.
“I’m OK,” Jackson said, even as he realized he was less excited than . . . scared? He liked Dan. Really, really liked him, but what did he truly know about the man? How could he believe anything he did or said now? Maybe this whole “date me so you can trust me” was part of his next manipulation—
A knock on Jackson’s door made him start and let out a harsh breath. He was being paranoid. How arrogant could he be to think that Dan was out to get him? Even in the twenty-first century it wasn’t easy being gay, especially if you grew up in a homophobic environment. After all, Dan couldn’t even be out at work. And yet he was taking a risk by going out—in public—on a date with Jackson. No matter what he could potentially be up to, why take that chance if it was all a lie? It wasn’t like Jackson had some hidden fortune for Dan to cash in on.
Another knock, louder this time. “Jackson? You OK?”
Jackson took a deep breath and focused on his articulation as a way to ensure his conflicted emotions didn’t betray him in his voice. “Yes. I’m ready if you want to come in.”
The door opened, and Jackson heard the sound of Dan’s footsteps as he approached.
Jackson tilted his head to listen. “You’re not wearing your normal shoes,” Jackson said thoughtfully.
Dan laughed. “I dressed up a bit. Is that stupid? I know you can’t see what I’m wearing.” He sounded sheepish and adorable, and it disarmed Jackson enough to let his shoulders relax.
He took a few cautious steps in the direction of the dark red shirt Dan had worn, perhaps as a courtesy, a hand out to make sure he wouldn’t run into him. He squeaked when Dan’s arms suddenly wrapped around him, dragging him into the large man’s embrace. All his tension snapped back. As heavenly as Dan smelled this close, as amazing as his arms felt, the sudden lack of control set him back on edge. “Let me go,” Jackson said, not caring right now what his voice sounded like.
“Sorry,” Dan said, carefully releasing the smaller man, making sure he was steady on his feet.
“Where are we going?” Jackson said a little harsher than he’d wanted. He winced and reached out until his fingers brushed the buttons on Dan’s shirt. He liked the way they felt under his sensitive fingertips.
“It’s a surprise.”
Jackson frowned. Tilted his head so he was looking in what he suspected was the larger man’s face. “I don’t like surprises.”
Dan laughed. “You’ll like this. I promise. Come on.” Dan took a few steps but stalled when he realized Jackson wasn’t following.
“I. Don’t. Like. Surprises,” Jackson repeated more emphatically. “Where are we going?”
Dan sighed. “Stop being a spoiled sport and let me be romantic. It’s our first official date and I want to do it right.” Without warning, Dan suddenly picked Jackson up, bridal style, and carried him out of the room toward the kitchen, Jackson guessed, although his heart was beating so fast the sound so loud in his ears it was all he could hear.
Laughter and young men’s voices surrounded Jackson. He was in a moving car. But he felt the wind whipping around him, totally different from sitting on the streetcar, or even in a vehicle with the window rolled down. The ride was rough and Jackson found himself trying to find something to hold onto. Metal behind him and below him, legs spread out.
“Jackson’s drunk,” one voice said, followed by a chorus of more laughter.
“Nnnot,” Jackson struggled to reply, one hand splayed beside his knee as he leaned forward a little, not liking how he was being jostled. He suddenly remembered he was in the bed of a pickup. “We going?”
“Sooo drunk,” another voice cackled, slurring, obviously pretty inebriated himself. “It’s a surprise.”
Jackson tried to survey his surroundings, the blur of color as landscape and cars sped by around him. He felt sick. The group of teen boys had had their formal krewe initiation and then spent the afternoon together at one of the guy’s houses, drinking, courtesy of the kid’s father. Something about krewe tradition and bonding with the next generation. Then they’d all piled into this truck, pulling Jackson in with them. It went against his instincts, but those were muddled by hard liquor his body wasn’t used to, and it felt nice to be included for once.
The rocking of the car combined with the warm air blended with the cloud of alcohol and lulled Jackson to sleep.
He woke up an indefinite time later to disturbing quiet. “Hello?” he asked tentatively. Maybe everyone else was passed out, too. Jackson was no longer drunk. A headache beat time with his nervous heartbeat and his stomach rolled. He felt the ground around him. Soft. A little squishy. When he dragged his fingers along it he felt individual blades. Grass. That explained the humid air that clung to his skin, and now that he allowed himself to focus he smelled it. Then water. Nearby. The sweet, mildewy scent of a bayou. He couldn’t hear anyone else’s breathing but his own, which was becoming increasingly panicked. It was dark. Night, most likely, he guessed. He pulled off his glasses to confirm. He saw what could have been street lights, or maybe house lights, off in the indeterminate distance, but he couldn’t be sure. He glanced up, as if to confirm that it wasn’t the sky but some sign of people, though he had no way of knowing how far they were. He didn’t hear any cars. The only sound other than himself was the subtle, almost noiseless movement of the water off to his side, and what could have been frogs, or perhaps some kind of insect.
Jackson pushed himself up into a sitting position and checked his pocket, praying he had his folding cane, but both were empty. His breathing came faster. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he’d gotten there or even how long he’d been there. His legs were tight and there didn’t seem to be any trees or fences or anything he could grab onto to help him stand. Without help, he didn’t know if he could get up, and he was alone. He had to be careful because it would be easy for him to fall into the water, and those bayous were dangerous; people drowned in them all the time.
Jackson found rational thought beginning to unravel as he realized how helpless he was. Panic took over and Jackson struggled to breathe. It felt like even the air had abandoned him. His hands dug into the grass, gripping it tight as if holding on for his life.
“Jackson. Jackson. Shit. Jackson, breathe. You’re OK. I’m sorry. You’re safe. Please breathe.” A familiar voice pleaded in his ear. The ground beneath him felt different. Soft and yet firm, and his back was being supported by something. An arm wrapped around him, holding him, while the other was pressed flat to his chest.
Jackson’s hands were fisted in . . . fabric, not grass. He followed the man’s voice, the subtle pressure on his sternum, struggling to regulate his breathing. It wasn’t dark. Instead, the right amount of brightness. He felt no breeze, heard no animals chittering. It was just his ragged breathing and the man’s voice, and his firm hold that kept Jackson safe and grounded without making him feel trapped.
“That’s it. Breathe. You’re OK. I’m so sorry. Please be OK.” A kiss to his temple.
Jackson’s body finally began relaxing, the adrenaline subsiding, leaving him drained. His chest still felt tight, but he was breathing better, and now he realized he was sitting in Dan’s lap, Dan holding him securely. He leaned back, his head resting against Dan’s chin. “What happened?”
Dan let out a relieved breath. The hand that had been guiding Jackson’s breathing shifted up to smooth his hair, and he turned just enough to press a kiss to Jackson’s forehead. “You had a panic attack, I think. I shouldn’t have picked you up like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I must have terrified you. I’m sorry.”
Jackson sighed. Let his eyes fall closed and sank into the larger man’s hold. “I can’t see. My legs are stubborn. I need to know where I’m going and what to expect when I get there.” Jackson felt the emotions of the . . . dream, or whatever that was—memory?—of his krewe initiation pulling at him, and he wanted to curl into a ball and weep. Fucking Harold, digging up shit he thought he’d buried in the depths of his mind years ago.
“Noted. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. You weren’t breathing, you weren’t listening to me. I almost called 9-1-1. Has this kind of thing happened before? You don’t seem fazed.”
Jackson sighed again. He liked how this position allowed him to feel every one of Dan’s breaths, the man’s large chest pushing against his smaller frame, guiding him away and back in a soothing rhythm that could easily lull him to sleep. “Yes,” Jackson said honestly. Though it had been a long time since he’d remembered his initiation misadventure in such vivid detail.
Dan smoothed his hand over Jackson’s hair as if to comfort them both, holding his face as he kissed his temple again, the feel of his breath as his nose brushed near Jackson’s ear. “I think you should lie down for a bit.”
Jackson nodded, knowing Dan could feel it since their heads were still touching. But he didn’t want to move.
“If you feel comfortable with it, let me carry you to your room and help you undress so you can rest.”
Jackson was too drained to argue, offering another nod in permission and agreement.
Dan gingerly laid Jackson on the bed, helping him stretch his legs out. “Can I help you undress?”
Jackson realized he’d only just put these clothes on, and he was more than capable of disrobing on his own, although that panic attack/waking nightmare episode thing had shaken him and sucked all his energy so he felt weighed down. Moving seemed like too much effort. “Please.”
Dan made a sound that suggested he was surprised but relieved Jackson had agreed and stripped off each of Jackson’s shoes first, announcing his movements so he wouldn’t startle the blind man, which Jackson appreciated. “I’m going to undo your belt now,” Dan said. His movements were tender and gentle as he unlatched Jackson’s belt, and then unbuttoned his jeans. Everything he did he warned Jackson about first, finally sliding the zipper down carefully. “Can you lift your hips so I can get your pants off?”
Jackson nodded. He pushed against the mattress to raise his butt enough Dan could ease the fabric down to his thighs, where the tops of his braces impeded it.
“I’m going to get your jeans off the rest of the way and take off your braces. If that’s still OK,” Dan said in a soft voice, a palm resting on one of Jackson’s legs. “I’d almost forgotten about these.”
Jackson rolled his neck to look where he expected Dan’s face to be, the man busy trying to guide Jackson’s pants off his legs. “Why are you doing this?”
“So you can be more comfortable,” Dan said simply, continuing to work. Whenever he paused he’d take a moment to smooth over any exposed patch of Jackson’s legs, rubbing tenderly through the gaps in the straps. “I’m really sorry for what happened earlier,” Dan said in a less literal answer to Jackson’s question. “Is that what happened? The other night? At the party?”
Jackson hadn’t thought about it, but now that Dan mentioned it, the idea made perfect sense. In fact, so much about what had happened at the party paralleled that fateful night: being alone, drunk, and without his cane in an unfamiliar place, unable to stand on his own, pathetic and helpless. Jackson choked on a sob that tried to bubble up, suddenly so ashamed that if his hand wasn’t firmly shoved into his mouth to keep the sounds from betraying his emotions he would have demanded Dan leave.
Dan didn’t press. He managed to get Jackson’s pants almost completely off, finally deciding to work on unhooking the straps on Jackson’s thighs and upper leg before bothering to fight getting the fabric over the bulky ankle boots that made up the lower portion of his orthotics.
Jackson finally composed himself enough, focusing on the feel of Dan’s hands on his legs, to say, “Yes.” Once he felt all the straps release, he held the brace while Dan lifted his leg out, not the easiest feat with the boot caught in his jeans. Still holding his leg, Dan nudged the captured brace toward the opposite leg, tapping on Jackson’s knee as a signal he could lower it to the bed.
They worked together on the second leg until Jackson lay on the bed in his boxers and dress shirt. But Dan wasn’t done. He sat between Jackson’s spread legs, smoothing his hand over the blind man’s skin from hip to foot, thumbs tracing the long surgical scars on each inner leg. It tingled, the skin particularly sensitive there, but Jackson said nothing, enjoying a touch that wasn’t clinical or sexual, yet not disdainful either.
“Something happened to you,” Dan said softly. “Was it the break in?” He leaned down to plant chaste kisses on Jackson’s legs, the warmth of his breath ghosting along the skin. It was so tender, so surprisingly loving that it took a moment before Jackson could think to speak.
“Yes,” Jackson finally replied. “The break-in shook me up and maybe that’s why I’ve been a bit . . . unsettled, but that’s not what caused me to lose it.” Jackson’s breathing slowed as Dan’s ministrations relaxed him, debating how much he should admit. “I don’t hate the krewe because Mardi Gras is for sighted people or Harold, et. al are assholes to me.” Jackson took a huge shaky breath when Dan laid his cheek on Jackson’s thigh, his hand caressing the other one. “I had a really bad experience when I was sixteen. Something that happened with the other kids around my age after our formal initiation into the krewe. I thought I was over it, but apparently not.”
Dan hummed, perhaps considering if he should probe for more, but he left it alone. “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour.”
Dan sat up, one hand still stroking Jackson’s leg soothingly. “Yes?”
Jackson patted the bed beside him, and when Dan rose, he took the opportunity to roll over on his side so he would be facing the other man when he joined him.
Jackson felt the bed dip again as the large man settled into place, and he stretched a hand out until he found him, sliding his fingers up over Dan’s chest, along his neck to his chin, finally cupping his cheek and pulling it towards him for a clumsy chaste kiss.
Dan nuzzled Jackson’s nose and then kissed him again, keeping it tender and surprisingly sweet. He played with the hair behind Jackson’s ear, soothing.
“No man has ever treated me like this,” Jackson admitted, breaking the kiss to bury his head under the larger man’s chin, letting strong arms wrap around him.
“I’m sorry,” Dan said sincerely, thumb rubbing circles on Jackson’s back. His voice held no pity, only sincerity, with a hint of anger.
“I don’t want to go anywhere tonight,” Jackson whispered into the larger man’s chest, hating how small he sounded. How scared.
Dan pulled him closer and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll never scare you again. No more surprises. Unless you ask to be surprised. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll make us something delicious while you nap. OK?”
“I do love your cooking,” Jackson said with a smile, inhaling Dan’s scent, the familiar odor washing over him comfortingly.
Dan chuckled. After a moment, he said, “I know I fucked up lying about being engaged, but I mean it: I like you and I want to get to know you better. So please be patient with me.”
“I’m broken,” Jackson whispered after a harsh inhale. “I hide it, but you’ve already seen me shatter. Be patient with me, too.”
Jackson woke after a thankfully dreamless nap to the scent of garlic and basil. His mouth watered and his stomach gurgled. He pushed himself up, using his hands to help guide his legs over the side of the bed, fingers working into the tight muscles around his knees. He wasn’t sure where Dan had put his braces, but he didn’t feel like putting them on anyway. He listened and didn’t hear Molly’s comforting panting; perhaps Dan had let her out.
Standing cautiously, Jackson debated about pulling on some PJ bottoms and decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Instead, he snagged the robe he kept on a hook near his bed and wrapped it around himself, grateful for the extra warmth. Then he used the wall to guide him as he made his way to the kitchen, not because he couldn’t find his way but so he’d have an easy support in case his legs or balance decided to betray him.
Once in the kitchen, the delicious scents grew stronger and he could hear the sounds of pots and pans being moved and spoons stirring liquids that bubbled and burbled softly.
“You’re awake,” Dan said with a huge smile leaking into his words. “I’m on your right, at the stove. Food’ll be ready in just a few minutes. You gonna want wine?”
Jackson found his way to the table and sat, deciding to stay out of Dan’s way. Wine sounded wonderful, but in light of his mini breakdown/panic attack earlier he decided it might be best if he skipped the alcohol. “I better not.”
Not long after, the two of them were seated with bowls of penne puttanesca that Jackson was convinced was the best thing he’d ever tasted. “This is fantastic,” Jackson said as he swallowed another bite.
“I’m glad you approve,” Dan said in an inderminante tone.
Jackson set his fork down, although he kept his finger on it so he wouldn’t have to remember where it was or lose track of it. “I’m sorry I ruined your plans. I appreciate you wanted to do something nice for me.”
Dan’s hand hesitantly touched Jackson’s, cradling it when the smaller man didn’t pull away. “I’ll be honest and say I’ve spent the last fifteen or so years living pretty selfishly. It’s how I ended up in the mess with Wendy. But I don’t want to be that person. I realize that your life is very different from what I’m used to, and it’ll take me time to learn. But you have to be upfront with me. When you said you didn’t like surprises I thought you meant you were impatient or something. I should have realized, but—”
Jackson shook his head, realizing he was smiling. “It’s fine. We were both at fault. From now on, let’s both agree: no more secrets.”
“Oh, come on. A man has to have some mystery,” Dan said, his voice teasing.
Jackson smirked. “Well, I’ll never really know what you look like, so that will forever be a mystery.”
Dan laughed, his rich, smooth, natural laugh without a hint of artifice. “So, Jackson, if you could do anything you wanted, what would it be?”
Jackson blinked, not sure what Dan meant. “Study history?”
Dan chuckled softly, and Jackson heard his fork scraping as he ate. “Which you’re already doing. So—”
“I’d love to go to Europe. Especially England and France. Visit libraries and get my hands on manuscripts first-hand. Of course, I’d need someone to read them for me. Do you read French?”
Dan made a mock offended noise. “But of course!” he proclaimed in Acadian-accented French. “Fluent in both French and German, though I’ll admit my French probably wouldn’t be welcome in Paris.”
“I don’t suppose you know Latin.”
“Recruiting me already to be your faithful assistant who you’ll bang on your desk like the naughty professor you are?”
Jackson choked and had to quickly find his glass and rinse the food down with a chug of water. “I’ll be honest with you: I’ve only had one real relationship, so I don’t know how to do this without it just being sex.”
Dan squeezed Jackson’s hand. “I’m hardly a relationship expert either. Let’s just do what feels right and learn as we go. By the way,” he said, and he paused to drink some wine from the sound of the light clink as the glass hit the table when he set it back down, “I would love to go to Europe too. I’ve always wanted to travel, but never had the money for it.”
Jackson smiled at the realization that they both wanted the same thing. At least when it came to traveling. Dan would probably much rather spend his trip sightseeing and taking photos than cooped up in a library hovering over medieval manuscripts. “It’s not really practical for me to go alone, even with Molly,” Jackson reluctantly admitted, keeping their agreement to be honest. The truth was he’d never left New Orleans, except when he attended the school for the blind in Baton Rouge, and he’d never been on an airplane.
“I’ve never flown, ever,” Dan said with a hint of sheepishness in his voice, suddenly making Jackson feel like less of a provincial coward. “Maybe we could go together someday?”
Throughout dinner Dan made pleasant, no-pressure conversation, Jackson suspected to diffuse any lingering stress, and soon they were lying together in Jackson’s bed, facing each other in only their boxers, fighting a food coma from the delicious pasta.
Jackson walked his hand over the space between them until he found Dan and linked their fingers. “I think this is the only date I’ve ever spent almost entirely in my underwear.”
Dan chuckled. “I think this is the only ‘date’ I didn’t spend trying to take someone out of their underwear. Though that’s always on the table.”
“No. Too uncomfortable.” Jackson grinned.
“Tomorrow I have to go to the darkroom to get some work done on that project you helped me with the other day. When we went to the Quarter? I thought you might want to come with me.”
“Darkroom? Me?” Jackson asked, bewildered.
Dan squeezed Jackson’s hand. “It’s a huge part of my life, and I’d like to show it to you.” Jackson wasn’t sure if Dan’s usage of the visual term was intentional or merely idiomatic.
“Won’t I get in your way?”
Dan hummed. “No. But I won’t be offended if you’re not interested.”
“You’ll explain everything? You won’t leave me in the dark?” Jackson smiled at his silly pun.
He felt Dan shift closer, the blur of movement, then a hand cupped Jackson’s cheek. “I could describe it all to you right now, but wouldn’t it be better to bring you with me?” Dan’s breath was close enough now Jackson could feel it ghosting across his face.
“I’d like that,” Jackson admitted, warmth blooming in his chest. Maybe Dan really meant what he’d said: he wanted Jackson to understand him, all of him, even the part that the blind man had thought would be forever out of his reach.
“I’m going to kiss you,” Dan said, and he pressed a light, chaste peck on Jackson’s lips before he moved to each cheek in turn, followed by the gentlest caress on each eyelid. Almost as if to express through his tender touch that he really did accept Jackson’s eyes, both how they looked and how they saw. “Can I kiss you again?” Dan asked, voice playful.
“Please,” Jackson replied with a smile. He felt giddy, like he was fifteen once more, sneaking kisses in his bedroom when he was supposed to be studying with a classmate. Instead, they’d ended up studying each other. It was the first time Jackson had ever touched another boy like that, and his first orgasm that didn’t come from his own hands.
Dan’s kiss was warm and tender, his hands cradling Jackson’s face, fingers slipping into thick hair.
Jackson moaned softly as Dan felt his way over the smaller man’s body, dragging a finger along his collarbone, making Jackson shiver and kiss back hungrily. Next, a fingertip grazed over Jackson’s nipple, Dan’s thumb teasing before his hand continued its trip, bumping along ribs down to his waist, slipping under the band of his boxers, dragging across the skin toward the patch of carefully groomed hair that led down to the blind man’s increasingly interested cock.
The graze of a nail on the delicate skin electrified Jackson, causing him to break the kiss, panting. He’d barely gotten his breath when he felt the mattress shift and soon lips brushed the space above his navel. “Dan . . .”
Dan pushed gently on Jackson’s sternum in a wordless request for Jackson to lie back. Once Jackson obeyed, he felt Dan’s hands cradling his torso as the larger man’s mouth explored every inch of his skin with wet kisses, nips, and tongue. Every touch sent a jolt of pleasure through Jackson’s entire body, his cock hard and threatening to slip past the band of his boxers, precum smearing along his stomach with every ragged breath.
Dan startled Jackson when he sucked softly at the skin between Jackson’s navel and the elastic of his underwear, causing the blind man to arch into the touch with a gasp.
“I thought you said no sex,” Jackson struggled to say, searching for Dan’s shoulders, slipping his hands up into the man’s soft hair once he found them.
Dan paused his ministrations, sliding a finger along Jackson’s covered erect cock with a hum. “I’ll stop any time you want. Just say the word.” He’d barely finished speaking when he mouthed around Jackson’s length through the fabric.
Jackson groaned. He wanted nothing more than to grab his cock and jerk himself to completion, but at the same time he wished the delirious pleasure of Dan’s mouth and hands would never stop.
Taking that as permission to continue, Dan nudged the band down with one hand while his other gripped the base of Jackson’s cock and pulled it out, above it. Fingers teased the slit, gathering the precum and spreading it with a few casual pumps of Dan’s fist. Barely a moment later, the tip was enveloped by the moist heat of Dan’s mouth and tongue.
Jackson’s head pressed back against the pillow as an inarticulate sound fell from his lips.
Dan hummed, the vibration sending a jolt straight to Jackson’s balls, his tongue laving the crown, sliding along and poking into the slit while Dan’s other hand explored Jackson’s thigh, tickling along the sensitive skin of his surgical scar.
It was too much; Jackson’s stomach jerked. His body trembled.
Dan popped off, pausing, his fingers shifting to the top of Jackson’s leg, a soothing gesture. “Jackson?” Concern was heavy in his voice.
Jackson found Dan’s shoulder again and shoved gently to urge him away.
Dan let out a surprised noise but complied without a word.
Next, Jackson started working his boxers off the rest of the way. Not the easiest feat while he was prone, but soon he felt Dan’s fingers grazing his skin, and together they slipped them off, Dan carefully lifting each of Jackson’s legs in turn to guide the underwear over his feet.
Jackson felt the mattress shift, and the sound of the floor creaking as Dan stood up. Then the rustle of fabric, the blur of movement as Dan stepped out of his own boxers. Jackson heard Dan spit, followed by a strange noise . . . Dan licking? It went on for a long time, and just when Jackson was going to ask, he heard the familiar sound of skin against skin, perhaps Dan pulling on his cock. It made Jackson’s twitch. He was about to order Dan to join him again so he could touch, hating the disconnect between them. A moment later, Dan was back, crawling over Jackson, hands on either side of the smaller man’s shoulders, his hard cock brushing against Jackson’s as their torsos expanded and relaxed with each breath.
It made Jackson gasp and pant for air.
“Is this OK?” Dan asked as he lowered himself while still keeping most of his weight off the smaller man below him. Like this their bodies were touching from chest to ankle, which Jackson found warmed him within, a feeling far beyond mere arousal.
“Kiss me,” Jackson said in answer.
Their lips crushed together, the kiss awkward as Dan began to move, grinding his hips to slide their cocks against one another along each other’s stomachs.
Jackson groaned at the sensation and heat, scraping his nails down Dan’s toned back and struggling to meet his thrusts.
Dan pulled away but only enough to pepper kisses along Jackson’s jaw, neck, and shoulder, finally dipping his head to rest in the crook of the smaller man’s neck as he shifted. This new position gave him better purchase to drive harder and harder against Jackson. “Feel so fucking good,” Dan said with a grunt.
It did. While Jackson craved more, at the same time he relished this feeling, so different from a hand job or even the fullness of having Dan sheathed inside him. Simultaneously less and yet more intimate than sex. Somehow having the larger man draped over him, boxing Jackson in on all sides, he felt safe. He wanted Dan. All of Dan. Small hands slid up along naked flesh until they came to the curve of Dan’s ass, tensing with his thrusts. Jackson grabbed and pulled to help direct their frantic frottage. The sudden phantom sensation of what it would be like to slip inside Dan, to feel his own cock enveloped in tight heat seared through Jackson’s brain. He’d only topped a couple times, wasn’t great at it, but if Dan rode him. . . . Jackson idly wondered if the larger man would be open to trying it.
“I’ll be able to skip my workout tomorrow,” Dan said with a panted laugh as he began to move with increased urgency, the roll of his hips sliding his cock down to Jackson’s balls and up to the base of his ribs. A few long stokes like that and then Dan pushed up, arching his back so their groins pressed tighter together, his movements smaller and more purposeful as he struggled to guide them both over the edge.
Jackson let out a loud moan as the head of Dan’s cock bumped and rubbed at the underside of Jackson’s crown. He felt his length spasm and his abdomen muscles tighten as his balls drew up. “Close,” Jackson managed to choke out as his hands searched for purchase on sweat-slicked skin.
Dan shifted again, capturing their cocks tightly between their bodies as he rapidly began to jerk his hips, tight, controlled, rapid thrusts, precum and sweat aiding the sweet slide of flesh against flesh.
Jackson cried out; he felt a spasm seize a muscle in his lower left thigh but ignored it as his pleasure bloomed. Another shout as he exploded, shooting onto his chest, cum smearing between them as Dan dipped his head to find his own release, his nose brushing Jackson’s clavicle.
The smaller man lay dazed for a minute, letting Dan use his body, humming with the afterglow of an orgasm unlike any other he’d experienced before. “Come for me,” Jackson whispered, his voice husky. He stretched his torso and angled his hips to meet Dan’s. He didn’t have the power or control the other man did, but he wanted to keep the pressure between them even as his own length softened and became too sensitive. He dug his fingers into the flesh of Dan’s lower back, and the combination finally seemed to send him hurtling over the edge.
Dan came with a guttural grunt, the warmth of his seed joining Jackson’s in a cooling mess between them. He bucked his hips a few more times until he finally stilled, collapsing on top of Jackson for a moment, panting, before seeming to realize he would crush the smaller man if he stayed like that, rolling off to lie beside Jackson. “Fuuck,” Dan said with a soft laugh, the smile in his words evident. He was beaming, from the sound of it. “That’s the best non-sex sex I’ve ever had.”
“I’m starting to see the benefits of an incredibly athletic partner.” Jackson shoved some damp hair off his forehead, knowing he needed to get up to clean his chest but feeling like every muscle but the most spastic ones in his legs had turned to jelly. He felt amazing; having so much of their bodies touching at once was even better than the dirtiest talk during sex. Still, a tinge of guilt surfaced. “Sorry I couldn’t help more.”
“Shh,” Dan said, his breathing more normal now. “You’re perfect. Just the way you are. I meant what I said. That was amazing. You fit so good under me.” Dan’s words made Jackson feel warm and happy independent of his post orgasmic glow. Dan pressed a kiss to Jackson’s temple and a moment later he was up and off the bed.
Jackson must have slipped into sleep because he woke with a start seemingly a second later to something warm and damp hitting his chest.
“Clean up, sleeping beauty.”
Jackson used the rag to wipe the cum and sweat from his stomach and chest, grateful when Dan took it back instead of dropping it on the floor.
“I’ll put it in the sink so you don’t need to worry about tripping on it.” And then, before long, Dan was yanking the sheets from under Jackson, climbing into bed and covering them both. He wrapped his strong arms around the smaller man, resting his head against Jackson’s shoulder as if never wanting to let go.
As sleep pulled him again, Jackson tried to remind himself not to get used to this, that Dan could still have ulterior motives. Yet the serenity of being held in a way no man ever had before threatened to win out. Logical or not, Jackson felt safe with Dan. Whole. And not at all “less” after all.
Continue to 19 - pt 1 ------>