Page 84 of Make the Play
“Can I?” Jason starts, pulling out of the kiss with flushed cheeks and well-kissed lips.
“What?”
“Pick you up?” Jason asks, inching both hands towards Emerson’s ass.
Emerson nods, and despite the permission, he’s still surprised when Jason effortlessly lifts him from the ground, his legs wrapping around Jason’s waist to keep himself steady. He knew Jason was strong, but knowing something and experiencing it for himself are very different things. They also cause different reactions in his body. Knowing Jason has muscles is something that’s nice for Emerson to look at, but feeling the way those muscles can move him around, holding him steady and guiding him wherever Jason wants, makes Emerson so hard it's physically uncomfortable.
“This would feel better in less restrictive clothing.”
“Yes, it would,” Jason agrees, kissing Emerson’s jaw and down the side of his neck. “You’re so sexy.”
“Are you talking to me?” Emerson asks because while he’s the only one Jason is kissing, that is not a word that’s ever been used to describe him. He’s tall with gangly arms and excessively long legs that make his pants always too short and his hair is so red it could stop traffic. He’s got delicate wrists, and his skin is pale enough it might as well be see-through. He’s also, despite his height, half Jason’s size because there is not an ounce of muscle on his noodle-limbed body. Sexy is absolutely not a word that anyone has ever used to describe Emerson.
“Who else would I be talking to?” Jason asks, with that easy smile of his.
“Well no one, I suppose,” Emerson answers, looping his arms around Jason’s neck since he has no idea where else to put them. He kind of wants to touch Jason’s chest but he’s not sure if he’s allowed and asking is harder than it should be.
“I can’t stop kissing you,” Jason murmurs against his lips.
“That’s perfectly alright with me,” Emerson answers, surprised he can form words with Jason’s body so close and his lips on his.
The next kiss is deeper, Jason’s mouth firm against his own. It brings a whimper to Emerson’s lips, and at the first sound of it Jason’s hold tightens, the tip of his tongue slipping into Emerson’s mouth. He’s seen people do this in movies, read enough books to assume that most people must enjoy it, yet none of the references prepare him for how good the extra stimulation feels.
Jason’s tongue is probing, warm and wet, and it deepens the taste of him. It’s a sensory delight, and try as he might, Emerson can’t stop the wanton moan of desire that Jason pulls from him.
“Fuck,” Jason curses.
“Sorry.”
“No, do it again,” Jason groans, fingers digging into Emerson’s ass. “It’s so hot.”
Part of Emerson wants to protest. First sexy, now hot. Surely Jason’s confused. Then again, Emerson doesn’t exactly want to argue with Jason’s delusions when they make him feel desired in a way he never expected to feel with another man. If Jason thinks he’s those things, who is Emerson to argue?
“Emmy.” Jason’s voice is low and gravely, the pitch of it fueling Emerson’s arousal. “Oh, Emmy.”
Emerson’s breath shutters in his chest as the deep bass of music from the dance pulses at his back. After a lifetime of loneliness, and years spent devoid of physical contact, Emerson’s walls shatter, leaving him stripped raw and starved for affection. It’s absolutely terrifying, and if Jason weren’t holding him up, he’s pretty sure he’d be on the floor.
“Jason,” he whimpers.
“Yeah?” Jason asks, resting his forehead against Emerson’s. His chest labors under his ragged breathing, his face flushed and his smile radiant. “How are you?”
It’s such a Jason question. Always checking in, always worried, because he cares about Emerson. If only the answer were an easy one to give. He’s not okay. He’s somehow better and worse all at once. How can Emerson possibly explain how jarring it feels to experience this depth of attraction and arousal for the first time? It’s not like he’s ignorant about sex or averse to it. He’s just spent so long shoving those desires away, along with anything else that might require human intimacy because it felt too out of reach. With one single confession and a few kisses, Jason opened the box, and there may be no putting the lid on it again.
“Are you overthinking?” Jason asks.
Emerson ponders the question. “Just regular thinking, I think.”
“Your regular thinking is most people’s overthinking,” Jason says in that soft, affectionate way of his that makes Emerson feel like everything is alright. “Which, for the record, before you overthink that too, is something I’m very into. I love that sexy brain of yours.”
“I don’t think brains can be sexy,” Emerson muses.
Jason grins. “Everything about you can be sexy, Mr. Miller.”
“Except that,” Emerson frowns. “Don’t call me that. My students call me that.”
“Got it,” Jason laughs, unbothered and easygoing as always. “No sexy teacher time.”
“Just…Jason and Emmy time.”
