“I just know the price I’ll pay for the so-called help I need. I figure why trade one devil for another, you know?” I throw the rest of my bourbon back in one burning gulp, wishing I could keep my mouth shut.
Talon scoots his body closer and throws an arm across my shoulders, pulling me into his side.
We took our bulky jackets off when we came into the basement, andall that separates us now are his button-down and my sweater.
When his fingers begin lightly rubbing my upper arm, my dick swells, startling me, and I jerk out of his hold.
“Shit. You’re not a hugger,” he observes. “That’s my fault, Zeke. My family is very physically affectionate, and I forget not everyone is like us,” Talon explains, making me feel like crap.
“Oh, uh, no. I mean, that’s true, but I didn’t mind,” I say, stumbling over my words. “I just…” I trail off, not knowing how to finish that sentence since ‘liked it too much’ isn’t an option I can just throw out there.
But Talon doesn’t let it go.
“Just what?”
“Just didn’t have a lot of it growing up, so it feels overwhelming sometimes…when people touch me.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.
Touch has become a punishment for me.
Starved of it as a child, Derek was my first experience with physical intimacy. Except I got chastised when I would reach forhim, and the result was pain when he would reach forme. I think my wires have gotten crossed somewhere along the way.
I don’t say any of that out loud, though.
Talon’s arm hangs limply by his side until his hand slowly crawls across the floor, his small finger overlapping mine first.
“Is this okay?” he asks as he intertwines the rest of our fingers together.
His grip isn’t tight. He isn’t trapping me, and I’m relieved to find my heart rate slowing down instead of speeding up, preparing to fight or flee this situation.
“Um, yeah,” I confirm, confusion settling between my brows. “Do you always hold hands with guys?” The question sounds stupid, but I remember the day he admitted he was straight.
He laughs quietly before answering.
“No, but like I said, I enjoy physical touch. I like the connection. It doesn’t really matter to me what gender or sexual identity you go with; if we connect, we connect.”
“I can’t say that’s a terribly popular opinion out here,” I tell him.
“Yeah, you’re probably right, but…New York,remember? Also, my parents are great, and my siblings and I are really close. It’s hard being away from them, and I guess I’m a little touch-starved,” he says, revealing more about himself. “But if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.” He tries to pull his hand away from mine, but I squeeze, causing him to leave our fingers locked.
“No, it’s nice,” I say honestly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“If you miss your family so much, why did you come out here?”
Talon shifts beside me, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. It’s distracting as hell.
“I guess in a way, I came out here for them, and I’m happy to be here, but I miss them at the same time.”
His answer doesn’t give much away, and I don’t press for more.
“How old are you?” he asks after a beat of silence.
“Twenty-two. You?”
He groans before answering.
“Thirty-two,” he says, shocking the absolute hell out of me. “But I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself.”
