Page 107 of Make the Play
“Emmy,” Jason groans, chubbing up in his sweats. “I’m gonna get hard if you keep that up.”
“Oops,” Emerson mumbles, quickly withdrawing his hands like he’s been burned. “Sorry, I?—”
“No sorry,” Jason assures him, grabbing both of Emerson’s hands between his own and bringing them to his mouth. “I love how you touch me, always. Just uh, probably not a good idea to meet the parents with a raging hard-on. At least not in these sweats.”
“I like your sweats,” Emerson declares in that deadpan way of his.
The statement sounds innocent but Jason’s reaction isn’t—likely because Emerson rubbed his cheek against Jason’s dick in this same pair of sweats a few hours earlier while they watched a movie. In hindsight, he should have worn different pants, given that he’s been popping boners like he’s fifteen again lately. He’s not sure how raging horniness relates to his bisexuality. It’s possible his arousal is because Emerson is a man, or more likely just because it’s Emerson. All he knows is, he should’ve worn pants that allowed for more discretion.
“I can’t believe you love me.” Emerson withdraws one hand from Jason’s hoodie in favor of reaching for his hand, turning it over so he can link their fingers. “You really think they’re going to like me?”
“My parents are going to adore you,” Jason assures him. “My dad is probably going to try and hug you. He’s a hugger. My mom too. Actually everyone in my family is a hugger except Andrew. The only person allowed to hug him is Charlie.”
“I like hugs,” Emerson replies, tone hesitant and hopeful.
“Me too.”
“You give the best hugs,” Emerson whispers. “I could hug you forever.”
“Forever, huh? Count me in.” Jason kisses the tip of his nose, then his lips before sighing with reluctance. “As much as I would love to keep you in my lap all night, if we want to meet them before my brothers show up we should probably get inside. Theo and Alec will likely be late, and Charlie will be too, unless he drives with Andrew, who is never late.”
Reluctantly, Emerson extricates himself from Jason’s embrace so he can climb back into his seat. Jason wastes no time hopping out of the truck and racing around to the other side to open the door before Emerson can, whose shy smile is worth rushing for every time.
“You don’t always have to open my door, you know,” Emerson points out.
“Course I don’t have to,” Jason says, holding out his hand to help Emerson down from the truck. “But I want to. There’s a difference. Boyfriend privileges.”
“You mean duties?”
“Nope,” Jason says with a shake of his head, shutting the door and locking the truck before offering his hand to Emerson again. “I definitely meant privileges. I get to take care of you. That is never a duty.”
Emerson doesn’t say anything, but he squeezes Jason’s hand, leaning into his side in that way Jason recognizes as needing comfort when words fail him. He obliges by giving Emerson’s hand a gentle squeeze before pulling and tucking Emerson against his side, arm draped around his shoulders to keep him as close as possible.
“I thought you hadn’t uh, you know—told your parents about us yet,” Emerson says as they walk towards the front door. “This might tip them off.”
“I haven’t told them yet,” Jason confirms. “I’ve just been busy, and it seemed like something to tell them in person, not in the group chat, but I have no intention of hiding you, Emmy. I never will.”
Whatever Emerson replies is too garbled to make out because he turns to shove his face into Jason’s shoulder, wrapping his own arm around Jason’s middle and holding on tightly as if afraid Jason might let go. Cold fingers sneak under his hoodie, settling on his tummy and lightly tapping the skin in nervousness. Jason barely reaches for the doorknob when it’s yanked open, both of his parents standing there with wide eyes darting between Emerson and Jason.
“Jason, you’re here.”
“You were watching us from the window, weren’t you?” Jason snorts.
“I would never spy on my grown children,” his mom scoffs.
“Liar,” Jason laughs.
“She wasn’t watching you,” his dad tells him. “I was.”
“Damn, Dad, confessing up secrets like that without your lawyer present? You should know better.”
“Your mother is the only lawyer I could ever need,” his dad grins, wrapping both arms around her from behind and kissing the top of her head. It makes Jason’s smile widen, his own feelings for Emerson settling in his chest. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll have the kind of relationship his parents have—forty years and still flirting like teenagers constantly.
“I think what your dad means to say is we noticed you brought someone,” his mom interjects, those keen eyes of hers studying Emerson. “You mentioned bringing someone special but we thought, well?—”
“We thought you were bringing a girl home,” his dad finishes.
“I was not going to say that part out loud,amor.”
