Page 35 of Constantly Cotton
When he was done there, he double-checked his own shaving kit, even though he knew what was in it already. Condoms, lubricant, PrEP meds. Safety and respect—John Carey, Dex, and every guy who’d lived at the flophouse or worked at Johnnies had been absolutely hammered with those concepts before the first shirt hit the floor. Cotton owed them all. Once his first few tests had come back negative and he’d been cleared to work for John, he had never, not once, taken his good fortune for granted. He’d been turning tricks on the streets, no lube, no PrEP, and he’d escaped with a clean bill of health. He knew other kids weren’t as lucky as he was and that some of the kids he’d hung out with, leaning against the wall behind Goldies, the infamous porn store, hadn’t made it to twenty-two.
For some of them, it was drugs, some it was violence, and some it was disease.
And until this moment, thinking about lying next to Jason Constance, being held like he was important, like he mattered, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever been as grateful that he’d survived.
He met his own eyes square in the mirror then and tried to see what Jason saw when he called Cotton his angel. He’d seen himself a lot since he’d started porn—was vain enough to have watched his first couple of films to help himself get off, because, dude! There was a body he’d worked hard to make perfect drilling or being drilled by another perfect body, and watching someone else come inside him was such a rush.
But that had paled after a few scenes, and he’d started to recognize sex work as exactly that—work. And then he’d tried to date and realized that most of the guys not in sex work didn’t see the work part. And most of the guys who wereinsex work didn’t want to bring their work home with them.
That moment Henry told him to stop dating, to try to fix his life before he invited someone else into it, had been pivotal for him, but he hadn’t realized how important until he’d been forced to quit his job.
Sex and love were two different things. It sounded so simple to say it, but understanding that truth when everybody had their dick out and an open asshole was not so easy.
The last three months had made it much easier.
And the last week, caring for someone who had made his life mean something, had made him rethink everything in almost the same way. Everybody was worth love, but who was worth sacrificing for?
Not the young man with the limpid brown eyes in the mirror, but he was getting closer.
And he wanted to continue that closeness—right into Jason Constance’s arms. He’d long ago given up on the idea that a lover would hold the secret of the universe or a way out of the incredible maze that was real life. But being held against Jason’s body had given him faith in a way he hadn’t had in a very long time. Perhaps—maybe—he had the things in himself that would find that secret, navigate that maze, fulfill that quest.
Stupid, maybe, but that didn’t mean he was going to walk away from the possibility now.
A night by himself when Jason was only a bedroom away seemed unnecessarily cruel to both of them.
And he’d had enough cruelty for a lifetime.
But as he gathered himself, he reminded himself firmly that just because they shared a bed didn’t mean they had to have sex. As the guys in the flophouse had taught him, sometimes simply having another body next to you was the best gift the world could give. And Jason was still recovering. Maybe he merely wanted to be kind. Maybe he didn’t want sex. Maybe he just wanted closeness.
Cotton could deal with that.
It was loneliness he was tired of.
Resolutely, he went back out to do his job. And to find, however fleeting, someone to take the loneliness away.
Jason was clearing up the table by the time Cotton came back into the kitchen. Cotton scanned his forehead—a little elevated at 99.8, but not scary—and administered the medication. He repacked the bag and went to set it back in the bathroom by their bedroom when Jason caught his wrist.
“Cotton?” he said hesitantly.
“Yes?” Cotton smiled, hoping to send a message that he was completely amenable to anything Jason had in mind.
“I didn’t mean to be forward. I mean, the sharing the bed is fine.” A red stain took over his cheeks underneath the beard he hadn’t attacked yet. “I only meant, with all that talk about Viagra, you didn’t think I’d be… you know. Taking advantage.”
Oh.
Cotton raised his hand to Jason’s cheek and rubbed a thumb over the red stain, smiling a little at the prickle of the beard. “Do you really think you’d be taking advantage?” he asked.
Jason captured his hand. “You’re just… really pretty,” he said, rolling his eyes, probably at himself. “And it’s been a while. It’s not fair of me to hit on you or intimate we should be anything more than friends. I can’t make any promises here. I… God, I can barely stand for more than long enough to take a piss, actually. I just… I like touching you is all. I can sleep in the recliner or on the sofa if you feel uncomfortable or—”
Cotton kissed him.
Fuck this “intentions” bullshit. Cotton wanted him. Cotton had wanted him from the beginning. Sure, they probably wouldn’t be doing athletic, frightening sexual things that night or even anytime this week. But Cotton felt connected to Jason Constance in a way he hadn’t felt connected to any man, ever, and he’d had a lot of men to choose from. He wasn’t giving up any of their days in this little cabin when they could sleep under the covers together. He wasn’t giving up even the opportunity to touch this man’s skin in a sensual way instead of a practical one.
Cotton cupped the back of Jason’s head, burying his fingers in the silkiness of his hair, and held his head at exactly the angle to ravish his mouth with every bit of prowess and finesse he had.
Jason whimpered, knotted both fists in Cotton’s jacket, and clung, opening his mouth and letting Cotton in.
Cotton kept kissing, backing Jason up to a wall for the support and making free with his mouth, his lips, plundering the wet cave of Jason’s mouth with his tongue and swallowing his groans, his whimpers, his little helpless begging sounds, until Jason didn’t so much pull back as fall against Cotton’s chest and tremble.
