When I wake up, I'm alone. I'm still curled up on my side, in the middle of the bed, but Edward is gone. I roll over and stretch, my muscles protesting the cramped position I spent most of the night in. The movement makes me aware of the stiff fabric of my pajama pants; I can feel the dried cum on my skin, and it's an uncomfortable reminder that I didn't actually dream my encounter with Edward last night.
It feels like a fucking dream-maybe it was, for Edward. He passed out so quickly afterwards that I question whether he was really aware of what we did.
With a groan, I stand up and stretch out my muscles some more. Usually on the weekends I go for a long run in the morning, but I'm giving myself a pass today. I need a fucking shower and some coffee.
I don't see Edward when I venture outside of my bedroom, but I know he's awake. The ceramic tiles lining the shower are still wet, so he probably woke up just before me... he jizzed in his boxers last night too, so I'm sure he had a similar mess to deal with.
As I peel off my clothes, I have to try to think of something else-something other than Edward cumming, Edward getting naked, Edward showering. My cock has other ideas, though, and he's a persistent fucker. It doesn't help that I have to soap up that general area pretty thoroughly, to wash away the traces of dried cum.
Before long, against my better judgment, I'm stroking my cock roughly. I try to imitate the way Edward gripped me last night, but it's not the same. He was... he was fucking magical. I close my eyes and lean against the cool ceramic tiles, thinking of the way his body felt against mine, of the stubble on his jaw scratching my shoulder as he nuzzled me there.
I picture what we looked like: Edward wrapped around my body, his fingers wrapped around my dick. In my mind, though, I take away the clothes that had separated us, and I can see what we would look like naked and grinding together. What it would feel like if Edward lifted my leg over his and settled between my cheeks. What if would feel like if he grabbed hold of his own dick and circled it against my hole before slowly pushing it inside-
"Yes!" I cry, my back arching as I let go. I watch the streams of cum fall to the bottom of the shower and swirl down the drain. The power that Edward has over me-even fantasy Edward-is fucking intense.
I rest my head on my forearm as I recover, turning my back to the shower spray so it pounds down on my shoulders as I relax.
When I get out of the shower, I spend a long time drying myself thoroughly and thinking about what to say to Edward. I don't know if he's gay, or bi, or straight and just fucking experimenting, but I need to find out.
A year ago-before the whole mess with Paul-I probably wouldn't have questioned Edward's motives. I would have assumed that I'm lucky to get whatever he's willing to give, and kept my mouth shut. I would have let him take the lead, no matter how much his choices made me hurt, and I never would have stood up for what I wanted.
Ironically, Edward was the one who made me see that I can't live my life like that. That I have to ask for what I want and demand to be treated well in a relationship. That I shouldn't put up with anything other than what I deserve. "Bottom line, Jake," he'd said, "you deserve to be treated with respect, man."
I wrap my towel around my hips, pick up my discarded pajama pants, and step out into the hallway... just as Edward is walking out of his bedroom.
"Hey," he says, his cheeks filling with color. He meets my eyes for only a second before they drop down to the floor.
"Hey," I answer, softly, flattening myself against the wall so he can get by. He's fully dressed, wearing some dark-washed jeans and the soft green sweater he got at the Gap last month. "Are you, uh, going out?" I ask, hoping he's not going to run before I get up the courage to talk to him.
"Nah, just gonna make some coffee," he answers. "You want?"
"Yeah, thanks," I tell him, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him as he walks past. After he disappears into the kitchen, I hurry into my room and look for something to wear. Normally on a Sunday morning we would both just lounge around in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, but for some reason I feel like I need to get fully dressed, like Edward.
I pull on my favorite button-fly jeans, the ones that are just a little too snug, and I pull on a t-shirt and an old Seahawks hoodie. Somehow, wrapped up in familiar things, I feel a little bit stronger.
When I make my way out to the kitchen, I find Edward sitting at the table holding a steaming mug of coffee. The sports page is open, spread out in front of him, but he doesn't seem to be reading it.
I walk past him to pour myself a mug, and sit down at the chair next to him. He doesn't look up from the newspaper, and we sit in silence for a few minutes, just slurping our Organic Shade Grown Mexican coffee. Edward is a stickler for that organic, environmental crap.
When he clears his throat and looks up at me, my heart starts pounding in anticipation of what he could have to say.
"So, you're off work tomorrow, right?" he asks, taking another sip from his Accountants Do It With Double Entries mug.
I blink, confused by his question. "Huh?"
"President's Day," he clarifies. "You don't have to work tomorrow?"
"Uh, yeah," I answer, my mind catching up to the conversation. "I mean, yeah, I'm off. I'm not working."
"Cool," he says, folding the sports section back up. "Do you still wanna go to Bella's with me tonight? She's having a party."
"Do you really wanna talk about Bella's party?" I ask him, raising an eyebrow in question. He blushes again, the red coloring his cheeks and his ears, and sets his mug down on the table. His hands are wrapped around it, holding it tightly, as though it's the only thing that can save him.
"I guess not," he says, quietly. He stares at me with wide eyes, waiting for me to take the first step.
"Do you even remember what happened last night?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Edward shakes his head slowly, and his denial feels like a punch to my chest-I can feel my shoulders hunching over, my arms tightening over my chest. I look down at my coffee, ashamed and humiliated.
But then he says my name. "Jake... how could I forget?" I look back up at him, and find that his expression is open, accepting. "I mean, Jesus..." he trails off, biting his lip as he looks for the right words.
"You were so drunk," I remind him. "I thought maybe... maybe you weren't like, fully aware of what you were doing."
He chuckles and shakes his head again, bringing his coffee mug up to his lips for another sip. I try not to stare, not to watch the muscles in his throat move as he swallows.
"I was aware, man. I remember everything," he says, and a small, sexy little smile appears on his face. That smile, small as it is, gives me the confidence that I'm doing the right thing. That on some level, he wants me-or wanted me last night, at least-and isn't totally freaked out by this.
"It was fun," I tell him, even though that's the understatement of the fucking century. It was everything.
"I'm sorry I fell asleep," he offers, and I shrug my shoulders in acceptance. "I mean, I heard you say my name. After. I just... I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything, and then I fell asleep."
That hurts. Remembering how shaky I was, how fucking needy I was feeling, and knowing that he ignored me... it fucking hurts. But in a way I can understand his feelings-hell, I didn't know what to say, either.
"It's okay," I tell him. I sip some more coffee and wait-for him to tell me what he wants, why he came to my bed, what the deal is between us. Edward's waiting too, though, his eyes trained on that stupid coffee cup. I think he needs some prompting if we're gonna have this conversation.
"So is it... God, Edward, I have so many questions. Do you think that... maybe you're bi?" I ask him, knowing that it's less scary than asking him outright if he's gay.
"I don't think so," he says, shaking his head again. "I mean, I don't feel like I'm bi. I'm not attracted to men, Jake. Just... you."
"Just me?" I ask, my voice squeaking a little in surprise.
"Yeah," he says. "I haven't always felt this way, it's just that lately... I don't know. Lately, I've been looking at you differently, noticing things. The way you look, your smile, you know? And your body..."
It's my turn to blush.
"The, uh, the day that you saw me... uhm, masturbating... I didn't like, intend for that to happen. I didn't think you'd be home, honestly. I was thinking about girls... or trying to... and your face just kept popping into my head, you know?"
I want to interrupt and tell him that I do know what it's like-trying to jerk off to porn or my trusty old fantasies and having my roommate's face pop up unexpectedly. I don't want him to stop talking, though, so I keep my mouth shut and just nod.
"So when I saw you standing at the door, saw you watching, I told myself I'd give you a little show. I told myself I was doing it for you, not for me. But I'd never come that hard before, not by myself. After that... I just couldn't stop thinking about you that way," he confesses.
"Last night-did you come to my bed because you wanted to fool around?" I ask him, desperate to know if he had planned any part of what we did.
"Uh, I really did leave my window open, and my room really was fucking freezing," he says, smiling as he takes another sip of coffee. "But I don't know. Maybe subconsciously I left the window open so I'd have an excuse to come and sleep with you? I wasn't planning for anything like that to happen, though."
"How did you... um..." I fumble, trying to think of how to ask him what I want to ask him. "What did you think of... Well, what I mean is, did you like it? What we did?" I ask, whispering the last few words, still trying not to spook him.
"Yeah," he says, smiling his real, wide, Edward smile. "Yeah, I liked it. A lot."
"Me too," I admit, looking away from his intense stare, his beautiful smile.
"I'm not gay," he says, his hand creeping across the surface of the table, toward mine. "But I guess I'm not one hundred percent straight, either. Maybe I'm... maybe I'm Jakeosexual." I snort with laughter, just as his hand covers mine.
I flip my palm over and grab his hand, squeezing his fingers with mine. He pulls away after a minute, more quickly than I'd like, but I appreciate the gesture.
Edward gets up to grab the coffee pot, and tops off both of our cups. It's quiet again, and I think maybe Edward's done talking-but I'm not.
"Is it something... is that something you'd wanna do again?" I ask, tentatively. "When you're, uh, sober?" I add.
Edward nods, and his cheeks and his ears get even more red.
"What about, like, other stuff?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from sounding too hopeful.
"Yeah," he whispers. "I want... I want to try everything with you."
As much as his words turn me on, that "try" gives me pause. "Try" implies "once," an experiment, a test. I mull over what I want to say, drinking my coffee slowly and listening to Edward drum his fingers on the tabletop. It takes me a long time to gather the courage to say what I need to say, and I can't do it until Edward breaks the silence.
"Do you want some eggs? I was gonna make-"
"Edward," I interrupt him. "I need to know... I mean, I can't do this if..." Fuck. Fuck. I can't do it. I'm so fucking terrified that if I tell him what I need, he'll pull away from me and I'll get nothing. But I know that I don't want pieces. I want all of him.
"I need to know if this is just an experiment for you, or if you care about me. I have, um, feelings for you, and I don't want to just fool around. I want more," I admit, squeezing my eyes closed in fear. I don't want to push him away now, but it will hurt so much more if we have this conversation after days, weeks, months of being intimate.
"Of course I care about you," he says immediately. "You're my best friend. You know I love you like that, and maybe... god, Jake, I don't know. Maybe it could be more."
"Maybe?" I ask, my hope sinking.
"C'mon, man, look at me," Edward begs, and I hear the legs of his chair screech against the floor. I open my eyes and he's closer to me, our knees touching, and he reaches out for my hand. "I've never really tried, you know? To have like, a real, grown-up relationship or whatever. This is all really fucking new for me, and I can't promise that it's going to work out..."
I want to jerk my hand away, stand up, and run to my bedroom. I want to hide. Edward's squeezing my hand so tightly, though, and I know he won't let me go.
"But I want to try," he says, softly. "I want to try with you, Jake, and I promise that it's not just about sex. You're not an experiment. You're so much more to me."
His words choke me up, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat before I can respond.
"So if we're gonna do this, Edward... it has to just be you and me, no one else," I tell him, needing that assurance.
"Just you and me," he says, nodding resolutely. "I promise."
"No skanks?" I add, letting myself relax a little. Smile a little.
"No skanks," he repeats, smiling back at me. "Just us."
"Okay," I answer, bringing our joined hands up to my mouth. I kiss the back of his hand, needing some further gesture of affection. "So, um, you still gonna make me breakfast?" I ask, done with the heavy questions for now. I'm happy knowing that he wants me, and only me, even if he can't make promises of forever and ever right now.
"Yeah, you want your omelet? With the peppers and the stuff?" he asks, referring to the special omelet he always makes me.
"Yeah, that sounds good," I answer, letting go of his hand as he rises to his feet. He walks behind me, moving to the refrigerator, and I reach across the table for the newspaper. I'm not listening to Edward, so I don't hear his footsteps when he walks back to me.
"Jake?" he asks, and I turn my head to see what he wants. He's close, right next to me, and bending at the waist. His face is right in front of mine, his green eyes blazing and his jaw set in determination.
He leans in, so slowly, and my heartbeat picks up. A lock of his hair brushes my forehead, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. I should close my eyes, but I can't. I can't stop staring at his lips until they finally touch mine.
The kiss is gentle, tentative, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint that I have not to deepen it right away. But it feels right that our first kiss should be sweet, tender, and not born of fumbling, drunken, middle-of-the-night passion. I let him move his lips against mine slowly and cautiously. I rest one hand on his shoulder, he cups my cheek with his hand, and it's perfect. It's absolutely perfect.
A/N: Thanks for all of your reviews! I think I have effectively blown my "posting schedule" but I couldn't wait, I love these boys so much. What do you think of Edward now? Are you ready for some srs bsns smut? (I am looking at you, SaintKristen.) Reviewers will get a teaser.
Einfach_mich made a lovely banner for this story, the link for it is on my profile. Please go take a look at it, it's supersexy. :)