“AndI’min love withyou,” I shoot back without even thinking.
Skyler stiffens, staring at me in wary disbelief. “What?”
I mentally replay my words, biting my lip nervously. Well, I guess that answers that question. “Drew can explain it better than me. About different kinds of attraction…”
Skyler’s eyes fall closed, disappointment playing across his features. “You’re not in love with me, Jax…”
“I know how I feel, Skyler,” I bite back. I might not have been sure earlier, but the second he said those words, it was like my heart exploded in an Oprah-style celebration full of glitter and rainbows and a full jazz band playing “Yakety Sax.” And I realize now why I’ve found it so difficult to understand Skyler’s behavior—it’s because I don’t view this situation as the end of the world scenario he seems to be envisioning. All I can see is possibility… If we can somehow figure out a way through this sex thing.
Even if I am ace—which I’m starting to think is pretty likely—it’s not as though I never get horny, or never have sex, or never get off. But I’ve always been pretty…indifferent. To the women I’m screwed. To the porn I was watching. To whatever other weird shit that spiked my arousal—which is apparently pretty common amongst asexuals, so that makes me feel less like a creep who gets off on monkey sex and maple syrup. Something about whatever it is in the brain that kick-starts the libido not distinguishing between “desirable” and “undesirable” sexual imagary.
The point is, it’s not actually the thought of being sexual with Skyler—to whatever extent that might involve—that bothers me. I’m not grossed out by the thought of touching him, or seeing him naked, or watching him come. That’d be ridiculous considering the ship sailed on all of that a long time ago. I want to make him happy. I want to give him everything he needs. But I don’t think I could bear feeling indifferent with him. I couldn’t bear being physical with him and not being able to feel that familiar connection. And if any of the thoughts that sometimes cross my mind during sex—such as “I just want to get this over with and get out of here,” or “This could seriously be anyone right now,” or “Maybe I should have just rubbed it out earlier, I’m not in the mood for this”—hopped into my brain while I was doing stuff with Skyler, I’m pretty sure it’d break me.
“Jax…” He shakes his head slowly, face a mask of torment. “Please…”
At a complete loss of what to do, I tilt my head forward and press my lips to his.
He stiffens, and I pull back a fraction; still close enough for our foreheads to touch, for our breath to mingle.
“Jackson…”
“I’ve never lied to you,” I murmur in response to the wariness in his tone. “Why would you think I’d start now?”
I return my lips to Skyler’s, and this time he doesn’t tense up, he doesn’t pull away. His hands move from my shoulders, one cradling the back of my neck and the other sliding down my back as the pressure of his mouth against mine increases.
And I feel it. That happy, warm glow that always surrounds me whenever we’re holding each other. Which makes perfect sense, because weareholding each other. It’s just that our lips have decided to join in on the cuddling.
I feel Skyler’s tongue gently probe at my lips, and I part them for him, letting his tongue meet mine. And just like the meeting of our lips, this is completely different to any other time I’ve tongue-kissed someone before.
It’s not like I’ve always hated kissing. To be honest, it’s probably one of the things I enjoy most about sex—apart from the actual orgasm part, obviously—something to do with the whole sensual thing, I guess. But I’ve sure as hell never kissed anyone like this before. I haven’t cuddled tongues with someone. And I wouldn’t have wanted to. Not with anyone except Skyler.
Skyler’s tongue slips away, followed by his lips, and I feel a delicious wave of heat hit my face as he lets out a heavy breath.
“Jackson…what the hell?”
I touch my forehead to his, bringing my hands up to cradle the back of his neck, my thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “You didn’t like that?”
“Of course I liked it. I just…why did you do that?”
“Because I wanted to,” I murmur. I shift one hand to slide down his back and move my head to nuzzle into his temple.
“Since when do you want to kiss men?” he asks, confusion evident in his voice.
“You’re different,” I tell him, pressing my lips against his jaw. “You’re Skyler. My Skyler. I don’t want space from you. I want to be part of you.”
I move my lips down farther, sighing softly when I reach the pulse point in his neck. His heartbeat. Right there against my lips. I give his skin a tiny lick before pressing my lips down again, sucking on his skin as though it might just be possible to take that heartbeat into my own body.
“Fuck…Jax,”Skyler groans. “Jesus.”
His hands move under my t-shirt and I bask in the touch like it’s sunlight on my skin. His warm, familiar hands providing more comfort than any day spa or five-star hotel could ever hope to.
I only hesitate for a moment when he starts to pull my t-shirt off entirely, not really ready to give up my attention on his pule point just yet. But if it means more of Skyler’s touch on more of my skin, it’s worth the minor sacrifice.
As soon as I’m free of my t-shirt, Skyler reaches for the back of my neck, dragging my face toward him and sealing his lips over mine again.
I breathe out a soft hum of satisfaction. More lip and tongue cuddling. More of this connection. More Skyler.
I still feel like we’re not close enough, though. Even with our lips joined and our hands on one another’s skin, we’re not flush together like when we’re cuddling in bed. That’s what I want; to be so close it’s like we’re glued together.
