Emerson breathed long and slow through his mouth before he gave the barest hint of a nod.
But as Luca’s fingers made work of the button, the zipper, as Luca leaned forward to lift up Emerson’t t-shirt once more and kiss his stomach, Emerson’s mind sharpened. The kissing had felt dreamy, almost unreal. But this was?—
The awkward business of lifting his ass off the couch so he could help Luca shove his jeans down to his knees brought reality rapidly to focus.
“It’s been a while,” he managed to say.
His and Jayden’s sex life had always been good. It got even better after Jay started transitioning. It wasn’t just the hormones, although Emerson knew they played into it. He had loved Jayden’s body in every iteration of itself. No matter what, it was always Jayden’s body. It was more that Jayden had a new confidence, a renewed desire to explore, to ask for and test out things he wanted.
But as his resentment over the farm had grown those last six months, he’d touched Emerson less and less. And Emerson—until somehow, surreally, yesterday in the rain—had never been one to initiate.
He’d spent a lot of those last six months thinking about it, though. How much he wanted to touch Jayden first. That maybe it would help. Except he knew, in the end, that it wouldn’t. And so he’d kept his hands to himself.
And the year since the separation had felt, approximately, like six decades.
And so?—
“It’s okay,” Luca said, a second before he massaged Emerson’s dick through his briefs and Emerson almost came right then. He clutched his hands into the couch instead, taking a deep breath through his nose. “It’s hot,” Luca added, and Emerson huffed a pained laugh.
“Is it?”
“That you’re so worked up you might come immediately?” Luca reached for the band of Emerson’s briefs. Wrapped his hand around him, brought him out into the light. “Yes.”
And then Luca lowered his head, not wasting a second, and Emerson let out an exclamation that hardly sounded like himself. The wet heat of Luca’s mouth surrounded him all at once, his tongue caressing, not even a bit of lead-up.
“Fuck,” Emerson breathed, his arms flailing, hitting the arm of the couch, reaching for Luca’s shoulders, the fuzz of his hair. Soft. His hair was definitely soft. “Luca. What the fuck.”
Luca’s head bobbed, the suction and rhythm of his mouth increasing, humming around Emerson’s dick, and Emerson was lightheaded. He was going to float away. Away from this couch, away from this house, away from this farm.
“Luca—shit?—”
And before he could stop himself, he was coming inside Luca’s mouth, like his entire body was a closed fist unclenching, over and over again.
He could only stare dazedly down at Luca as his vision started to clear, mouth hanging open as he sucked in breath. As he watched Luca slide off, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Tuck Emerson neatly back inside his briefs. Give Emerson a little pat on the stomach.
“I’ll go slower next time,” he said, voice hoarse but almost…chipper. “Just kinda felt like you needed that.”
Done, for now, with his tasks, Luca looked up, eyes bright. Emerson stared back, still slack jawed.
And then, a surprise to himself, Emerson started to laugh.
“I, uh.” Another bizarre bubble of laughter. “I guess. I really did?”
Luca smiled at him. And leaned down to place a kiss on Emerson’s knee.
“That’s it,” he said quietly, to Emerson’s leg. “That’s the stuff.”
Emerson gazed down at him a minute more, the last of his laughter wheezing out of him, his heartbeat becoming only slightly more in control. Luca waited there, patiently, seemingly contentedly, on his knees.
Emerson’s eyes slid to the tent in Luca’s sweatpants.
“Touch yourself,” Emerson said, voice reedy, all hint of laughter gone. “Please.”
Luca’s gaze sharpened.
Barely a second passed before he slipped a hand—the hand that had just been wrapped around Emerson—inside his sweatpants.
Emerson sucked in a breath. He had asked—well, he had asked this of Luca without even really thinking, but whatever vestiges of his brain were left had asked for educational purposes. He’d only ever touched Jayden before. He didn’t know how Luca did it, how he liked to be touched; Emerson didn’t want to look like an amateur.
