I stopped dead and glared at him. “No.”
He pouted. “No?”
“No.”
“Fiiiine.” Still pouting, he looked away from me and focused on extracting a needle and the thread from the sewing kit. I took advantage of the opportunity to finish stripping my pants off and toss them to him. He laid them over his lap - and, incidentally, the cat, who made a noise of disapproval and scurried off of him.
I watched Curie beat a retreat to one of her pillows in the corner and then sat quickly on the couch, putting a bit of distance between us so that my bare thigh wasn’t rubbing up against his. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable while he worked.
…or me. Ok, mostlyIwould be the uncomfortable one. But I wasn’t going to admit that. I glanced over at him and caught him sucking sensually on the end of the thread. What the fuck?
Oblivious to my surprise, he spat out the end of the thread and threaded it through the eye of the needle. I guess it helped ease the way or something? Lubricated it…
Ok, no. Now was not a good time to think about sucking and lubing. I was sitting here next to Jamison in my underwear, which wasn’t going to hideanythingif I got excited. I focused on his hands, trying to distract myself. He doubled the thread over and tied a small knot, then picked up my jeans, muttering quietly to himself.
“-side out,” I caught as he turned the jeans in his hands. “Come up through the back…” He matched deeds to words, and his voice faded out again for a few seconds before it came back with, “in a vee…”
I had literally no idea what he was talking about, and I felt kinda like an idiot sitting there dumbly while he sewed my pants, but on the other hand, it gave me a chance to just…look at him. His asymmetric hair fell over his forehead in a swoop, and his eyes were narrowed as they focused on his work. His generous lips were pursed in concentration, and no, I definitely wasnotremembering how those lips had felt around my cock, thank you very much.
Ok, it waspossiblethat I was. Just a little. But they’d felt so good, warm and soft. And his tongue…hnghh.
I felt my dick twitch at the memory and winced. Good thing Jamison was concentrating on his sewing.
At least, I thought he was, until he paused his needle, shot me a sidelong glance, and smirked. “You got a service kink?”
I blinked. A what? “Huh?”
“Service kink. Getting turned on by someone serving you.”
That didn’t clear up a whole lot regarding the non sequitur. “Uh…no, I don’t think so?” I managed.
“Hmm.” He looked back down at his hands, then up at me again through his lashes. “Because you seem highly fascinated with what I’m doing and I’mfairlysure your dick is getting in on the action.”
“I, uh,” I coughed. “I was just watching…I don’t know how to…” Shit, this was embarrassing. I cleared my throat. “It’s interesting?” I managed weakly.
“Mmhm.” He sewed another stitch. The hole was almost closed, leaving behind a small seam. If I hadn’t been distracted by my embarrassment, I would probably have been impressed by his needlework. “So you don’t see anything you like?”
What was the right answer to that? I could deny it, but a) he’d know I was lying, and b) it would mean cutting off whatever was lurking between us. Or I could tell the truth and run the risk of making him uncomfortable and embarrassing myself further. How had I gotten myself into this position?
Oh, right, I’d let Jamison talk me into taking off my pants for him. Again. For a different reason this time.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he said quietly, startling me out of my spiraling thoughts.
“What?” I blurted. “No! I didn’t mean…” Shit. “What I meant was…” Damn. I took a breath, held it for a second, and tried again. “I always like what I see when I look at you. But you’re doing me a favor, not trying to hit on me, so I didn’t want to, you know…” I circled my hand in the air as if that could convey a meaning I, myself, wasn’t even sure of.
He pulled gently on the loose thread and suddenly the rip in my jeans zipped together perfectly. Jamison smiled in satisfaction at his work and tied off the thread. “There.” He patted the jeans in his lap and reached for the tiny scissors that had come in the sewing kit, snipping off the end of the thread.Then he turned the jeans right-side out and handed them to me. “You can put these back on,” he said, and I started to stand before I realized that his intonation wasn’t that of the end of a sentence. I paused, waiting for him to go on. “Or,” he said, drawing out the word, “you could leave them off and I could take mine off too.”
He was going to take his pants off? Yes, please! I tried not to look too eager. “You don’t have to…” I began, but he raised a hand to stop me.
“I have no idea where you were going with that,” he told me, “but nothing you’ve done or said has made me feel like Ihaveto take my pants off.Wantto, however…yeah. That.” He slipped the scissors and the needle back into the sewing kit and set it on the coffee table, then regarded me steadily.
He wanted to take his pants off for me? My eyes widened. He wanted to take his pants off for me! Oh shit, was this real? I gaped at him for a second before catching myself and snapping my mouth shut. “You can…” I gestured to his lower half. “Any time.”
“What’ll you give me if I do?” he asked teasingly, reaching down to toy with the button of his fly.
Give him? My brain was vapor-locked as I watched his fingers. I couldn’t think, and speaking was beyond me for the moment. Unable to stop myself, I watched my hand stretch out and join his on his fly.Oh my god, Hen, what are you doing? He didn’t say you could touch!
Jamison’s hand stopped moving and he twined his fingers through mine where mine lay on top of his. He gave me a reassuring squeeze. “You can say ‘stop’,” he reminded me. “Any time.”
