Chapter Fifty: Who We Are
"Why did you leave?" Jeb said, breathing raggedly. Roland's hand was hot against the small of his back, but he still needed to know -- he had to make sure something wasn't wrong.
"I was afraid," he said, half-smiling as he avoided Jeb's gaze. "Because... I looked at you and I was... afraid that you wouldn't want this -- that you wouldn't want me. I couldn't force you to do something you didn't want. So... I left."
You should have known, Jeb thought, and added fondly, but you have to have everything spelled out for you, don't you? He said only, "I'm sorry -- I should have told you", because suddenly he was aware of how weak he must seem, practically boneless in Roland's arms, melting into his touch.
"Told me what?" Roland said, and exhaled gently against the skin of Jeb's neck. They were still standing, though Jeb didn't know why -- intertwined as they were, it would have been much more productive to just get to the bed already. Especially given how weak his knees felt -- he was fairly sure Roland was mostly responsible for keeping him on his feet at all at the moment.
"That..." Jeb trailed off, tried to catch his breath. It didn't work, and he could still feel his pulse beating rapidly. Do you know what you do to me? he thought. "If you'd asked," he said, "I wouldn't have said no."
"If I'd asked what?" He leaned against Jeb, pressing his body closer, and Jeb suppressed a startled gasp. He'd never quite get used to casual intimacy like this -- he wasn't used to someone actually wanting to touch him, and acting on that desire. With Val... with Connie as well, there had been a frozen caution between them, as if they were afraid of offending him, afraid of going too far, overstepping some unspoken boundary.
Roland seemed utterly unafraid -- if there was an unspoken boundary, he felt perfectly free to cross it, and to take Jeb with him.
"If I'd asked what?" he repeated, and Jeb realized he'd forgotten to answer.
"If -- if I wanted you," Jeb said, stumbling over his words and clinging all the tighter to Roland's shoulders, needing to know he was there.
"Do you?" he said.
Jeb couldn't speak -- he clung to Roland, praying Please don't leave me; please don't go. Don't leave me here alone. Don't abandon me. Just stay here with me. Don't leave me.
"I will never leave you," he said, and Jeb realized that again he'd said aloud something he meant to keep to himself.
Maybe this time it was for the better, though.
"Yes," Jeb whispered, and couldn't have met Roland's eyes if he tried. He could feel the tremors starting, the way his shoulders had started shaking -- there were, somehow, tears welling in his eyes, and if he kept thinking about his past, about all the times he'd been left behind, he knew he was going to end up sobbing in Roland's arms, grieving for the dead he hadn't the heart to bury, crying instead of...
Instead of what, Jeb? he thought, with a wry, almost bitter little smile starting on his lips.
"Yes," he said in a stronger voice, and even though he heard it shaking he didn't care -- as long as the message got across, it would be all right. "Yes. I -- I --"
And to his horror, his courage broke.
But Roland didn't say a word -- he stayed there, holding Jeb tightly, being what Jeb had always needed and never dared to ask for: someone strong, who wouldn't leave him or abandon him, who would be there for him, who would wait like this for him to find an answer.
"I need you," he said, and remembered to breathe. "I -- I want you."
Jeb bit down hard on his lip, feeling ashamed and small and petty -- there would always, no matter what, be a voice in his head that forbade him to ask for help, to admit weakness, to even show that he had feelings. Admitting he was human enough to have wants and needs -- that was far beyond him.
Except, somehow, now.
"Good," Roland said, and something about the hoarseness of his voice sent a shiver down Jeb's spine. "Good."
God -- his skin was so warm.
"Because I need you too," he said, his voice soft in Jeb's ear. "And I left because of that -- I didn't want you to feel as though I was forcing you into anything."
"What were you thinking?"
His hand was at the back of Jeb's head, stroking his hair, and Jeb felt safe -- safe enough to let go, to give in and arch his neck, pushing harder against Roland's hand, letting his eyes flutter closed, feeling utterly weak and somehow not caring.
Roland leaned forward and brushed his lips against Jeb's forehead.
"I looked at you," he breathed, "with your eyes half-open like that -- like they are now -- and I thought that if you didn't stop looking that way right after you woke up, I wouldn't be able to control myself."
"Then don't," Jeb said, and pulled him closer for a proper kiss.
The first time, all those years ago at the Christmas party, had been gentle and shy -- and lately, Roland had been just as gentle, seeming to strive never to hurt Jeb, to let him make the first move if he wanted to.
Well. That was all well and good, but right now Jeb didn't want gentle -- he wanted Roland to be rougher, more assertive.
And he was -- his hand moving from the back of Jeb's head down his neck and around to just above the collar of his shirt, tracing thin trails of fire. Jeb had barely gotten dressed before rushing out into the hall to confront Roland -- he'd just thrown on yesterday's shirt over his pajama pants, hardly stopping to button it for decency's sake.
Now all that seemed to have gone to waste, with the way Roland was slowly unbuttoning it, seemingly determined to drive Jeb completely insane with the pace he was going.
"You need help?" he said, and undid the last few buttons himself, threading his hands past Roland's.
"Maybe," Roland answered, and then clasped his hands around Jeb's wrists. "Jeb, just tell me what you want."
"Stop being afraid that you'll hurt me," Jeb said softly. "And... just... I like it when you're gentle with me, but right now I want you to be rough."
Roland sighed. "I can do that, if you want," he said, releasing Jeb's wrists from his grasp, skimming one hand down Jeb's side, stroking the skin.
"Yes," Jeb said, not believing that he could really say such things. "Yes. That's what I want."
"You're sure?"
"I'm tired of playing games," he said.
Roland grinned. "All right, then. Tell me what you want me to do."
What he'd been talking about -- what he'd been asking for -- finally caught up to Jeb. "I can't," he stammered, but couldn't find the strength to pull away from Roland completely. "I can't."
"Then I'll improvise," Roland said, his hand resting now on Jeb's hip, just at the waistband of his pajama pants. "If that's all right?"
"It's fine," Jeb said.
Roland's other hand crept up the back of Jeb's shirt, playing over his vertebrae as if they were the keys of a piano, brushing over them one by one. "You trust me?"
"Always," Jeb breathed, and, moving from his paralysis, shyly moved one hand up to rest on Roland's chest. He was still wearing a shirt -- a state that Jeb intended to remedy as soon as possible.
Jeb was fascinated by the way that he could feel, however faintly, Roland's heartbeat under his hand. Maybe it was just some weird fluke, but it was there, a steady pulse near the surface of his skin.
"OK," Roland said. "I can't promise you that I'll be any good at this, but I can promise to try."
There was something in his eyes, in his smile, just then, that reminded Jeb of who he was, and of what he needed.
"Stop talking," Jeb said, and kissed him again.
This -- ah, this was what he'd been looking for, he thought in an almost dreamlike trance, as Roland took control, moved from focusing on Jeb's lips to leaving a line of small, dry kisses along his jaw to --
"Oh God," Jeb gasped, and if Roland hadn't have caught him he would have fallen to the floor, because that thing he'd done at the soft spot where Jeb's jaw met his neck had made his already weak knees give out entirely.
"Are you all right?" he said, stroking Jeb's bare chest with an absently affectionate hand.
"Keep doing that," Jeb said breathlessly.
"This?" He brushed his lips over the same spot where jaw and neck intersected, and Jeb was grateful to be caught by him again -- it was far better than gracelessly collapsing to the carpet. And, well, he liked it better -- having someone to catch him when he fell. It made him feel horribly weak and dependant, but he loved knowing that someone was there for him -- that someone cared.
"Yeah." Jeb let his eyes flutter closed for a moment. "I like that."
