“Angel.” I call him, but when he refuses to look at me, I gently grab his jaw and turn his head towards me, then I place two fingers under his chin and push it up until our eyes meet. It pains me to see that they’re full of unshed tears. “You deserve this and more. Now dry your eyes, and open the present.”
He doesn’t move, so I dry them for him with my thumbs. I can’t stand to see him cry.
Jay has shed too many tears, and he won’t be doing any more of that unless they’re joyful tears.
I dry them, one swipe after the other, and before letting him go, I place another long kiss on his lips. It’s not meant to ignite our passion, a desire that never really stops burning beneath the surface.
He stares at the bag in his hand, as if he can’t really believe it’s there. For a few moments he doesn’t move, as if he’s trying not to wake up from a dream.
Many times I did that when Henry offered me a house and a job. The job only if I kept studying to finish college, and I did.
He would have loved for me to go to uni, but I was never good at studying, and I was already set on working at the tattoo studio.
Jay’s shoulders tighten, and his breath catches, like he does when he’s not sure he deserves something.
I hate those moments, but I hope to make them disappear, one step at a time.
His eyes lift to meet mine, wide, fragile, and still hesitant. “Are you sure it’s for me?” His voice is still full of disbelief.
I don’t miss the small smile tugging at his lips, and I love it. I want more of them there. Actually, I want him to be smiling forever.
I don’t take my eyes away from his face when he finally opens the bag and peeks inside.
A single tear falls from his closed eyes, and then they blink open again to take another peek.
His expression shows me exactly how much he adores the first item, the jeans jacket. He puts his hand in to caress it, and I love the soft, trembling laugh that escapes his mouth — half joy, and half ache. He quickly blinks, trying to hide the sheen in his eyes.
I want to take him in my arms and promise him that from now on it’ll be only joy, but can I really promise that? There’s one thing I can promise him, though, and that’s to never allow anyone to hurt him. Including me.
“Thank you,” he whispers, but then tries again. “I love it. I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, but I’d love to see you try it on.” I want to hurry him to see what else is in the bag, but I like his expression too much to say anything.
When he pulls the jacket out, a few things come along with it, and fall into his lap. He jumps, surprised, and then his eyes glimmer, heavy with emotion.
I don’t resist the urge to comfort him, and I pull him into a one-sided hug. I don’t force him to keep checking his gift when he lays his forehead against my chest.
“No one has given me anything in a long while.” His hand is still curled around the jacket, and he brings it to his chest as if it’s something precious, as if he’s afraid it might vanish if he lets go.
My heart aches for this man, gorgeous inside and out. “Do you want to try them on?”
He uses his hand to swipe his cheek, and then raises his head, and with a small shy smile, he nods.
I watch him dig into the bag, his eyes sparkling with every new item, and I want to give him more and more. I want to give him everything. It’s hard to imagine not caring for Jay, this sweet, lovely boy in need of a safe place, in need of someone to care for him. What kind of man was that prick, that he could put him in a situation where he was forced to sell his body.
His loss, though, is my gain.
Excitedly, he spreads everything on the sofa, and then mixes and matches until he’s happy with the combination.
I expect him to take one to the bathroom and come back after he’s changed, but instead it seems like I’m getting an unplanned striptease. Oh, damn if the thought doesn’t leave me breathless and as hard as steel, and I haven’t even seen anything yet.
The room is only illuminated by the lamp on the small table next to the sofa, lighting the room in different shades of warmth, and in the middle of it there’s Jay, strong, charming, andmine.
He turns around and pushes his trousers down, exposing his boxer-clothed backside. He sways one way and then the other, teasing me while exposing more and more of his body to my eyes. I enjoy every single movement he makes.
When the trousers reach mid-thigh, he lets them go and then gently untangles his feet, one at a time, making even that look erotic. Once they’re off, he reaches sensually for the new pair I bought, and I watch as his sock-covered foot slides into the jeans. I wish they were my hands.
I made him mine before, so the way he tastes and the way his skin feels under my hands is a memory living rent free in my mind. But I want more, so much more. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of him.
