Shoving his shoulder lightly, Ashton nods and then tips his head to the side. “Yes, but that—that isn’tallI want. I would hate for you to think that this is solely about sex when what I’m trying to say is that I wantyou. Everything, all of you. If you’ll have me, of course. Will you have me, Link?”
Link deflates. “Jesus. You didn’t hafta go all chick-flick-rom-com on me,” he mutters. “I’m, you know, yours.” He shrugs using one shoulder. “Think I’ve probably been yours since day one, when you reeled me in using that ridiculous sob story and those puppy-dog-lookin’ baby blues. Oh, don’t get pissy—hell yeah, I want you. Want you so bad I look stupid, I know it. I was just—I dunno, waiting. To make sure that after everything, you wanted me that much, too.”
“I’m so sorry for making you wait,” Ashton replies quickly.
“And—fine.Maybeyou’re not wrong about the whole… hating… sharing my feelings shit.”
“Hmm. Imagine that.”
“So then, you should fuckin’knowyou’re special, ’cause Ididshare! Cut myself wide open and spilled my guts all over you,” Link says defensively. “I did.”
“That’s very romantic,” Ashton assures him, right before grabbing his face and diving in, kissing Link hard and sure. Link's right about one thing—the time for talking is over. They’ve said enough, now Ashton needs toshowLink that he’s serious. Show him that there isn’t an ounce of hesitation, reluctance, or uncertainty lingering in his mind.
The message clearly translates and is received, prompting a relieved Link to kiss wholeheartedly back. As their tongues tangle, Link's hands wander before coming to rest on his hips in a way that makes Ashton melt in his arms.
It feels like aclaim.
“Clothes,” Link murmurs against his lips, apparently unwilling to pull away, even in pursuit of something better. Sensible or not, Ashton doesn’t disagree with the impulse, and so they fumble blindly at each other’s shirts and belts, their proximity making the process of undressing at least three times more difficult.
The extra struggle is worth it as far as Ashton is concerned, to feel the way Linkwantshim. To relish the way Link is drawn to him, how he can’t seem to stop kissing his mouth and putting his hands all over Ashton’s skin.
The only strange thing in all of this is that for the first time in ages, Ashton feels each and every bit of that desire in return.
It’s been a long time. Over a year since he’s been intimate with someone, and much,muchlonger than that since hefeltanything when he was. While Whitaker never pressured him for intimacy, healwayswanted it, and Ashton was mostly indifferent towards sex, period. Whitaker must have known—when it came to their physical relationship, Ashton never initiated, not once—only entertaining the concept ofpleasurewhen it was brought to him.
As a result, whenever theydidget physical, in Ashton’s mind, the events that followed were rote, even mechanical. Sex was something to be tolerated, notenjoyed. Those feelings persisted to the point where the act became something that was no more interesting or satisfying to him than any other biological need, and that slow spiral was a significant factor in his decision to break things off. Whitaker had needs, and Ashton just couldn’t fake interest any longer.
While he’s certainly no expert, Ashtonissmart enough to know that sex isn’t meant to be a chore, and that if it feels like one, something is wrong. He knows, in theory, that chasing an orgasm shouldn’t foster the same level of enjoyment as emptying one’s bladder, washing one’s hair, or drinking water out of ingrained habit. That it shouldn’t feel akin to consuming food for the sake of it, perhaps after some predetermined number of hours have passed and his brain is concerned that heshould,never because of some true hunger or driving craving.
But that’s just how things were.
With Link, though, Ashton feelshungry.The way Link touches him, the way he holds him close, even the way hesmiles.All of it has Ashton’s brain firing on every cylinder, lighting up pathways and activating neurons he didn’t even know hehad.
It’s absolutely thrilling.
The second Ashton is naked, Link wraps hot, strong hands around his rib cage, throws him backward onto the bed, and quickly follows him down. He’s near-predatory, licking his lips and climbing over him on all fours, and Ashton can hardly breathe. He touches Link's thigh reverently, staring up at him in awe while his entire body tingles with anticipation.
It’s almost cliché, the way his skinsings, bursting with the knowledge that Link's body will be pressed against so much of it any moment.
This—this,he wants. This hecraves. Even as his hand shakes, as he works tentative fingers around Link's naked hip to hold on, as he guides Link more firmly between his legs, Ashton couldn’t dream of wanting something more. Couldn’t begin to imagine a desire stronger than what he feels for Link in this singular, perfect moment.
Magic has nothing on this.
Tipping his face up as Link leans down, Ashton follows his instincts and allows his tongue to lead. He licks teasingly into Link's mouth, keeping their kisses thorough and deep. It’s exciting—every point on his body where it’s touching Link has turned fiery hot, burning with need and the pure, driven excitement of having no idea what’s coming next and wanting it anyway.
When Link settles readily in between his thighs, Ashton makes the easy assumption that Link wants to fuck him. That’s fine—there’s very little Link could suggest right now that he wouldn’t be interested in trying, and he’s already decided that he’s lucky enough tohaveLink, to havethis—naturally, Link topping is the way it would play. Sure, maybe he wishes they could start with something different, but it’s not a problem worth pursuing.
It’s not that Ashton has some issue with bottoming, either. In theory, he’s perfectly fine with it, but ‘perfectly fine’is also somewhat of a triggering phrase to wander through his head right now. ‘Perfectly fine’ is, of course, all things ever were with Whitaker, who neither noticed his building disinterest in sex nor even cared enough to switch positions.
Damn,Ashton thinks, hating himself for getting hung up on the past again.
But the thought stings when it creeps uninvited into the periphery of his mind, enough to put a damper on his enthusiasm. To sour the moment slightly, even though this hangup has fuck-all to do with Link andtheirrelationship. It’s unfair. Ashton’s bothered even though he’shappy, even though he’s turned on, and most of all, even though he thinks he would truly enjoy bottoming for Link—perhaps even love it.
The human mind can be such a terrible place to be. Ashton very abruptly wishes he could get his hands on one of those highly-regulated trauma-suppression charms the hospitals and crisis centers use for emergencies—folks do sell them on the black market here and there. Sure, sometimes people cause brain damage or forget how to feed themselves from overuse, but hey, everything comes with risk, right?
Ashton sighs and tries to shake the unpleasant thoughts away, focusing on Link, and how much he adores being with him, beingtouchedby him. The musky, clean scent of his body, the soft brush of his lips, and the tingle underneath his skin when he thinks about Linkwantinghim in return.
Unfortunately for Ashton, he’s not terribly skilled at hiding his emotions while in this sort of vulnerable state, and the intrusive musings cause him to stiffen slightly beneath Link's touch.
