After a rest and a much needed shower (shared, to save water of course, nothing to do with the slick, steamy make out session), they go to the coffee shop.
Jack's not sure how he feels about it. On the one hand, it's neutral territory, and he appreciates that Pitch is giving him this space, but the thing is, he also doesn't feel like he needs the neutrality. He is comfortable with Pitch, and almost as comfortable in Pitch's apartment as he is in his own. More so, really. If Jack's dad's at home then Jack's pretty much trapped in his room until he can't take it any more and bails.
As they sit down, Jack tries not to sigh. That's something they can talk about, he supposes, though he'd really rather not do this Serious Talk thing at all, and definitely not about feelings. Pitch seems insistent though, so Jack steels himself against it.
Pitch buys both of them coffee and cake, a layered chocolate thing that is very square and very serious; no sprinkles or garish chocolate curls here. Despite its appearance, it's the best thing Jack's tasted in his life. At the first mouthful he gives a muffled moan that makes Pitch smirk at him.
"I don't know if I should be upset that you seem to appreciate that cake more than you do me."
"This is damn good cake, Pitch," Jack says, shovelling more into his mouth. "But you're just as good - and I hope you appreciate what a compliment that is."
"I do," Pitch says and takes a bite, making appreciative noises of his own.
They sit in silence for a moment - cake like this deserves reverence - and Jack thinks about how he felt while being tied up. The way he just melted, sunk deep inside himself; about the stillness he found there. It was at once the most intense and the most deeply relaxing thing he's ever felt. Is that even possible, to feel such opposites at the same time? He guesses that it matches up to some of the experiences of submissives in the books he's been reading, but he didn't know it would be like – like that.
"So," Pitch says softly, pushing his now-empty plate out of the way. "Let's talk."
"About the cake?"
A smile tugs at Pitch's lips. "About our previous activity. About you being tied up. Did you like it?"
"I thought that was obvious."
"Obvious or not, I want to hear you say it."
Jack taps the table and frowns. Pitch takes his hand.
"Jack, I'm not asking you this to annoy you. We need to talk about these things. I need to know, so that I know where your boundaries are - and I need to know what you'd like to explore. Perhaps even so that you know what you'd like to explore."
"Well, I'd definitely like to do that again," Jack says, and feels discomfort churning in his stomach. But - maybe talking about this is the way to understanding it better. For both him and Pitch.
He looks down at his wrist, where he can see the almost-faded indentation where the rope lay only a few hours before. Alright, he decides. If they're talking about it, he'll take it seriously and give a real answer. A thought-out answer.
So - did he like it? Yes.
That was easy.
Whydid he like it? That's more complicated, and when he tries to turn his thoughts to the matter all he finds is a miasma of want and crash-bang-complicated feelings.
He sits back and sips his coffee slowly. "I loved it. It was - intense. It made everything more intense." As he speaks, the fog in his brain seems to clear a little and he can find a path through his thoughts. "As well as feeling good - it made me feel safe. The way that you were just - focused on me. Like I was worthy of your time." Pitch takes his hand, his thumb stroking across the back of it. He doesn't speak, just gives Jack time to put his words in order. No pressure; just patience. "It made me feel special. And it made me feel good. I think - I think I get what you meant when you said it wasn't just about the sex. It's more than that."
Pitch nods. "Sometimes it can be as simple as feeling the rope against your skin when you're doing something else - your wrists tied while you watch TV, for example. Some people like to sleep bound. If you wanted to do that I'd stay awake, to make sure that you were safe."
"I'd like that," he says quietly, liking the idea of sleeping while tied up - liking it a lot. To wake with Pitch still there by his side, watching over him makes delight course through him - delight and belonging. That sounds - perfect. "So. The rope thing is a definite yes."
There's a pause and Jack thinks he's given a pretty good answer, gotten a good insight into why he liked it. Oh, he's sure there's more – he can feel the more complex reasons squirming in his brain, things he doesn't have words for. But for now, he thinks he's done pretty good. He hopes Pitch feels the same, because he's not sure how much serious thinking his brain can handle; he's still feeling the residual daze from that orgasm.
"I'm glad to hear it. And happy that it's helped you on different levels." He pauses and meets Jack's eyes, frowning slightly. "But Jack - you are special. You are worthy. I don't know why you would think that you're not, but-"
"Yeah, you just hit my daily limit for talking about my emotions, Pitch," Jack says, and holds up a hand. "You don't get to unlock my tragic past just yet."
Pitch's lips thin and Jack can almost hear him trying not to sigh. "You can't keep pushing it away forever, Jack."
"No, but we've only known each other for four weeks. That's not exactly share your deepest darkest secrets time. Unless you want to start with a dark, shadowy secret from your own past?"
Another pause, and Pitch shakes his head. "No. You're right. I'm expecting far too much. It's just that it doesn't feel like we've only known each other for such a short time."
Jack laughs and feels his shoulders relax. He hadn't even realised that he'd tensed up, but he should have, he always does when he gets defensive. "Wow, Pitch. I wouldn't have expected this kind of sentimentality from you."
"Not sentimentality. Just honesty."
The raw simplicity in those words is like ice water dumped over Jack's head. Honesty. Jack's been avoiding honesty most of his life. Not lying, just avoiding the ugliness of the truth. He takes another sip of his coffee.
"Yeah, well. You know what? Four weeks is actually kind of a long time to be dating. Bordering on serious. Maybe we should do something to celebrate." There's that not-quite-dishonesty, out of his mouth before he even knows it's coming.
"Alright," Pitch says quietly. "As long as you know that I will want you to talk about this at some point."
"I get that. And I understand why, and that means a lot." A small avalanche of relief buries Jack, and he jumps onto this respite. "But for right now - how about celebratory four-week-anniversary noodles?"