It’s unbelievably warm. The light sheen of sweat over Jason’s body melts us together so our skin feels like one. But my body is still recovering from the accident so the heat is a welcome relief. The only thing still tinglingly cold is my toes.
Which seem to have a weight on them. When I wiggle my foot I hear a softmeowand assume it’s the infamous barn cat I heard about, resting on my foot.
Finally, I notice that one arm is looped under Jason’s so the hand can rest on his tricep while my other hand is flat against his pecs. My face is buried in the area where his neck meets his shoulder so his scent is overpowering.
It’s like a drug. I’m addicted to his scent. To him.
Closing my eyes, I speak into his chest, “You saved me.” No answer. “Again.”
Callused hands sweep up and down my spine from the nape of my neck to the top of my ass. On the last pass, his hand lands on my ass cheek and stays there like a home base.
“Thank you,” I whisper into him.
Jason shifts his head so his mouth and nose are against the crown of my head. He doesn’t kiss my hair like I thought he might, but it’s still a sentimental gesture.
Rest.I can practically hear him telling me.
So I do.
The next time I wake up, we’re spooning. I must have shifted in my sleep to face the hearth, and a sleeping Jason didn’t lock me into place like before. Every curve of me fits all his curves, every bend in our bodies nestled together like puzzle pieces. His arm loosely bands around my waist. But not too tight.
The weight of the cat is gone so I slip out of his hold and lift the covers to rise. Thankfully Jason doesn’t stir. Seeing he’s still fast asleep, I move to the dresser I got a shirt from last time and pull out a long sleeve black Carharttshirt before slipping it over my torso.
I’ve been in this room a handful of times but I was…preoccupied every time so I haven’t gotten a good look at the room.
It’s socozy.I expected a bleak room. But the flames flicker light over beautiful wood panels on the floor, a large wood frame bed covered in a beige comforter, and a rust red Pendleton patterned rug on the floor. A set of French doors leads to a small balcony with a light dusting of snow.
But what really catches my eye is the rows and rows of floating shelves on either side of the fireplace neatly lined with books. Upon closer inspection, I notice they’re arranged alphabetically. I had a feeling Jason was anal-retentive and this solidifies my suspicions.
I have no idea what time it is but it’s still dark outside. The juxtaposition of the cold winter night outside and the homey, ember coated interior of the room separated by glass doors does something to me. Some feelings can only be described by a scene, a smell, there’s no word for how you’re feeling. That’s Jason’s room. Moody, cozy, it makes me want to curl up in front of the fire with a book for hours.
Shuffling behind me alerts me to Jason waking. Spinning around, I see the panic on his face melt into relief when he sees me standing in front of the book shelf.
This might be the first time I’ve seen his hair pulled into a manbun at the back of his head. Sweeping his hair away from his face reveals just how jagged his features are, how masculine and chiseled. All of this to say he looks like a Viking ready to pillage a town for treasure. Fierce, deadly in his own way.
“Sorry if I woke you,” I say. Though I wasn’t making any noise. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jason has Spidey-senses that know when something is amiss.
Taking my hand, Jason pulls me down to the floor on my knees between his spread thighs. A less than graceful hand runs up the length of my stomach beneath the shirt, lifting the fabric with it until his hand meets my breast. Adjusting the shirt, Jason lifts it so he can access my nipples, wrapping soft lips around one while his beard scratches the sensitive skin around it. All the while, my hands weave through his hair, longer than when I arrived. Ican practically feel the shivers run down his spine from my touch, just like he’s doing to me.
We fuck, I sit on his lap and ride him like I can clear my mind of all the chaos if I grind hard enough. And just before he comes, Jason lays me on my back, shirt still lifted, so he can paint my skin with his release.
It wasn’t as rough as usual, probably trying to be careful with me after today (or yesterday, not sure). But it was…different. I don’t know how to describe it but the way Jason handles me, the way he looked at me, felt different than our usual rutting.
And different isn’t alway good. It plants a seed of doubt and I worry that’s not what he wanted.
As I wipe the come from my body, I ask,“Is our sex what you want?” The question slips out before I can stop myself. Then immediately regret it but the words are already there, hanging like a noose between us. “I mean…do I do enough of the work. Do I do what you like? I’m completely satisfied, don’t worry, but I want to make sure I do what you want too. Pulling my own weight in our situation.”
Oh my god, Mara, stop rambling.
Jason stares at me without a nod or a shake of the head or anything. So, naturally, I assume I’ve made things awkward.
As usual.
“Do you want me to be on top more? I mean, my ex said I never did enough of the work in our sex life and I’d expect him to do everything. So I’m consciously trying to be an active participant in this arrangement. Soooo, is it ok? Do you want to change anything about our sex life?”
After another endless moment of silence, Jason shakes his head firmly, putting my rapid heart rate at ease.
As long as he’s happy, I’m happy.
