Page 91 of Make the Play
Emerson staresat himself in the mirror, trying to imagine what exactly it is that Jason sees when he looks at him. Before, when he’d thought Jason was straight, he assumed Jason’s gazes were friendship. Sure, they seemed like more, but Emerson wasn’t exactly in the position to know that. He’s never had a best friend or a lover.
Lover. Emerson doesn’t think he likes that word. It makes things sound tawdry or rooted in sex. While Emerson would very much like to have sex with Jason, in a myriad of ways, it’s not what he wants the most. Or what he wants right now, if he’s being honest.
He knows he’s been in the bathroom a long time. First to brush and floss, then to change into the clothes Jason brought him. The sweatpants hung over his feet, and even when he cinched the waistband, they’re still too big, so he settled on only wearing the t-shirt Jason brought him over his compression boxers.
Considering the shirt fits Jason, it hangs loosely on Emerson—the neck exposing his sharp collarbones. The way it drapes over his lanky body makes it look like he’s not wearing anything underneath. He has no idea if this is something Jason might like. He’s never looked at himself and tried to understand what other people might find attractive or not about him. While Emerson has certainly felt attraction to men, it’s always been fleeting. He’s never felt his heart in his gut or a simmering arousal. Probably because Emerson is very good at compartmentalizing, and he’d never actually wanted anything from the men he thought were handsome. He wants things from Jason. So many things.
“Everything alright in there?” Jason calls. It’s expected really, since Emerson has been in the bathroom an exceptionally long time just to brush his teeth and change. He tried to brush his hair too, but Jason’s got something called a boar bristle brush. He says it’s good for his short, mixed hair.
Emerson has never even heard of it, only knows it made his hair look like he stuck his finger in a light socket.
Accepting this is as good as it’s going to get, he takes one final deep breath before reaching for the doorknob.This is only Jason, he reminds himself. Jason isn’t going to judge Emerson’s hair or anything else about him. Jason is a good man. He makes Emerson feel happy and safe in ways he didn’t even know were possible. Still, he’s never shared a bed with anyone. He has no idea what the social etiquette is in this situation. He wishes he did.
Twisting his fingers, he steps into the bedroom, exhaling a shuddering breath at what he sees. Stella is fast asleep on her dog bed in the corner along with Freddie. Emerson is curious how Jason got him to sleep there if he usually sleeps in the bed, but it’s not something he’s going to worry about right now, too grateful he will get Jason all to himself for this first night.
The blankets have been turned down, and there is one pillow on each side of the bed, Sharky sitting directly in the middle.
“Wasn’t sure what side of the bed you prefer. Didn’t wanna put him on the wrong one.”
That little part of Emerson that always feels a little bit wrong rights itself. He takes the five steps to the bed and drags Sharky to the left, away from the side of the bed with the window. The blinds might be shut, but Emerson has never been able to sleep near windows, and the fact that Jason is letting him choose, even though it’s his bed, loosens the knot in his chest. Before he can crawl into bed, Jason is behind him, those strong hands of his on Emerson’s hips as Jason’s mouth moves to the back of his neck.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
“Are you really?”
Those big hands slide around to his tummy. He’s a little too skinny, his hip bones jutting out and his skin soft and squishy despite his lack of body fat. When Jason’s hands slide under the shirt, he half expects him to change his mind about what he feels, but instead his fingers spread wide as Jason lets out a contented sigh.
“You smell amazing.”
“Thank you,” Emerson says, blushing when Jason laughs. The vibrations of it against his back are as unfamiliar as the lips that kiss their way up to the shell of his ear.
“I don’t think I ever thought about how good another man could smell. I’ve been missing out, clearly.” Jason kisses the side of his neck once more as the tummy touches morph into a full body hug from behind. “I’m so glad you’re here, Emmy.”
The air in his lungs expels in a shuddering exhale. He’s always loved Jason’s hugs, but this is the first one from behind like this, and despite Emerson’s impressive vocabulary, none of the words he possesses come close to accurately describing how good it feels. He’s just so big, strong and warm. That part of Emerson’s brain that is almost always in fight or flight registers safety in the most basic way. A hug has never felt so good, and Emerson lets his weight fall back, a small sound of surprise falling from his lips when Jason scoops him off the floor and carries him to the bed.
Jason is careful when he sets him down, his soft laughter as he tries to covertly climb over Emerson instead of going all the way around endearing.
“You’re too big to sneak you know.”
“I know, but I’m doing it anyway,” Jason grins, ending up on top of Emerson, knees bracketing his own with one hand on either side of the pillow. “Hey there, handsome.”
“Hi.”
“There’s a man in my bed,” Jason says.
“You have very good observational skills.”
Jason barks out a laugh, glancing over his shoulder when Freddie startles. He silences himself by lowering his face into Emerson’s neck, the soft rumble of his continued amusement making Emerson smile.
Eventually Jason stops laughing, his words slightly garbled against the side of Emerson’s neck; yet somehow he understands every single one. “I like you so much.”
A simple confession, though the impact it has is anything but. Emboldened by the words, Emerson feels brave enough to touch the way he’s wanted to since Jason’s confession. He moves slowly almost as if afraid Jason might tell him to stop, even though he knows logically he won’t, letting the tips of his fingers skim against Jason’s belly where his shirt hangs loose.
“Is this?—”
“Good,” Jason finishes.
Emerson forgets to breathe when he inches his hands beneath the shirt in earnest, unprepared for Jason’s hitch in breathing. He hasn’t even done anything yet, barely skimming his fingers over the bit of hair from Jason’s treasure trail above his boxers, but from the sound Jason makes, it’s almost like Emerson is touching him somewhere far more salacious.
