“I’ll take care of the blackmail, Tommy. Don’t put yourself in danger like this again.”
“You shouldn’thaveto take care of it!” He squirms and shoves at me, and is wet enough still that my grip on him slips. Once free, he starts pacing the length of the belltower, throwing his hands around, putting his feelings on display for me. “It’s not your problem to deal with!”
He did not just say that.
My earlier fears surge to the forefront of my mind, and I realize this is it. This is the test I’ve been waiting for. And I’m not going to fail it.
“Not my problem?” I snap. I stalk forward and pin him to the brick wall, keeping him still, holding him so he can’t run away. “Everythingabout you is my problem.”
“I don’twantto be a problem!” He struggles against me, pressing his body against mine, gripping my biceps and shoving hard, but keeps his safe word locked behind his teeth. “I want you to–to fucking–towantme!”
“You think I don’t want you?” I ask, incredulous.
“Who would wantthis!?” he demands, struggling harder, until I have to use my entire body to hold him against the wall. Until he’s panting as I pin him there, under my hands. “Who the fuck would want this fucking mess?! I want you to keep me! I want you to stay! But why the fuck would you keep something so fucking–so fucking–messy!?”
“Tommy…” I breathe, pressing kisses to his forehead, his temple, his eyelids, which he closes as he tilts his head up to me, like a flower seeking the sun.
As he relaxes, I pull back slightly, just enough to get to his mouth.
The sound he makes when our tongues collide is ugly and needy and sorrowful and perfect. Perfection incarnate.
His name is a prayer between our lips, shared between our tongues. “Tommy, sweet boy.”
“What?” he asks, rough and trembling, gripping my shirt to keep me close. His wet skin is chilled but quickly warming, and I groan as I rip his wet shirt off him.
“I’ll keep you,” I swear to him, eyes and fingers roving his slick skin. “I want you. I want you the most. And I’ll pass every fucking test, show you an infinite amount of times until you believe me.”
“Young-gi, I can’t–I don’t–I’m not…” He grits his teeth, torment in every line of his expression. I sigh, pressing my forehead to his.
This is the true test. This right here. He needs reassurance. He needs proof. And a normal person would give him emotions and words for that. I can’t.
“I don’t–I don’t know how to tell you how I feel,” I admit as I roughly undo his belt and throw it aside. “I don’t know how to label this feeling, this emotion. It hits me like a bus. You have myevery thought. I’m drowning in you and I never want to breathe again. Metaphor is all I have.”
His hands reach for my shirt, shoving off my suit jacket. I let him slip me out of it but immediately put my hands back on him again, running my palms along every inch of chilled skin. I undo his pants button and unzip him.
His eyes flash up to mine and he pushes me, hard enough to make it clear that he’s trying to get a reaction out of me. His challenge is expected, predictable, and just what I want.
I grab his hands and pin them on either side of his head. My next kiss is punishing, biting. “I’m sorry,” I manage between kisses. “Because you deserve better than me. But I’m not letting you go.”
He shivers hard at my words, and we both stare into each other’s eyes, waiting to see what happens next. I know his history now, and despite his deep-seated desire for words like that, I could still trigger his anxiety. I need to tread carefully.
He pants roughly, our breath intermingling, and tries to test my hold on his wrists with a sudden attempt to escape. I push his legs apart to unbalance him, slotting my knee between his thighs, against his dick, pressing him tighter against the brick behind him.
If he wants me to immobilize him, I’ll deliver.
“I don’t have feelings. I never have.” That’s my biggest strength that, until Tommy, I never saw any drawbacks to. I can only hope that I’m still enough for him, that I’ll still pass this test. When he wiggles some more–testing me, always testing me, giving me so many chances to pass like the good boy he is–I bite hard on his shoulder, until he cries out from it. Between us, his dick bucks in his briefs, tenting the material and bulging through his open zipper. I lick across the teeth marks I left behind, soothing the sting.
“I can’t tell you how I feel, but I can prove whatever you want. You want me to show you how serious I am? You need more proof? I’ll show you again, and again, and again.”
“Young-gi, I–” He swallows hard. “I–” he trails off, leaving something left unsaid. Finally, he shakes his head. “You have feelings.”
“Maybe. But I don’t know what they are. They bleed together. It amounts to the same thing.”
Thunder crashes, but everything outside of the belltower, outside of us, is meaningless to me. I don’t care about the spray brought in by the wind or the cold. With him in my hands, I’ll never feel the chill.
“I’m not worth this,” he whispers, hoarse and pained.
“You’re worth so much more,” I grate out. I strike again with my teeth, his other shoulder this time. He yelps and struggles in my hold, so I change my grip on him, pin his hips to the brick with my hands and put my teeth on his neck. I leave another mark there to the sound of his gasping cuss words.
