Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Declan

Making out under fuzzy blankets in front of a roaring fire felt like something out of a movie, not my real life. I'd tried to be a romantic boyfriend for my previous short-term girlfriends but had usually failed to deliver. That was why I'd made an effort with Valentine's Day. Not that Jonas was my boyfriend, but I didn't want to miss the mark yet again.

And unlike with others, I wasn't in competition with Jonas. The success of the evening wasn't based on who did more or better than the other. Instead, we'd worked together, his efforts with the table and our cozy blanket nest complimenting mine with the brownies and books.

We'd already stripped down to our boxers to huddle under the covers, and all that skin-to-skin contact magnified even the simplest of kisses. I loved how fuzzy Jonas was—beard, chest, legs—and how his body hair rasped against my smoother skin. I had a decent amount of reddish chest hair, but nothing like Jonas. One of my favorite things was wriggling against him, luxuriating in all the contrasts and sensations.

"Why do I like kissing you so much?" I ran a hand down his torso. During kissing, I'd rolled so we were facing, and I was sprawled half on top of him.

"Maybe I'm that good at it?" Jonas teased, eyes sparkling. He waved his fingers in the air like he was casting a spell. "Or maybe it's magic."

"I'm going with magic." I nipped at his neck, savoring that strip of bare flesh under his beard. I coasted a hand lower, hovering near his cock. It would be super easy to fall into our usual mutual jerk-off or oral thing, but my neck prickled. "Since it's Valentine's, should we do something…special?"

"We are." Jonas chuckled and kissed me again, long and lingering, the sort that made me happy sigh and wriggle all over again. And almost, but not quite, forget my point.

"That's not what I meant." I pulled back to peer down at him, trying for a serious expression. "Sex. Something new. You said fucking isn't your favorite thing, but maybe we should try you fucking me."

I'd been wrestling with this offer for a while now. I still wasn't sure whether I was gay, bi, or something else, but if I was having sex with a dude, shouldn't I be all kinds of eager to either fuck or get fucked. I'd never particularly liked penetrative sex with my female partners, so doing the fucking wasn't high on my priority list. And Jonas said not everyone had to be a top or bottom, but I wasn't sure I bought it. Maybe he was simply being nice.

"Do you want to try it?" Jonas predictably threw the question back at me. "Or do you feel obligated because of the date on the calendar?"

"Not exactly." I sucked the inside of my cheek. "I just figure we should do it for real. If I'm gonna lose my gay cherry, I want it to be you."

Instead of swooning at my declaration, Jonas groaned. "Gay cherry. Lord, save me from some archaic notion of what constitutes real sex."

"Archaic?" I wrinkled my face, trying to simplify all his big words. "You mean I don't have to fuck to lose my virginity?"

"Declan, you are definitely not a virgin in my book." Jonas shook his head like he was struggling to grasp my idiocy. And that was okay. I was too. "And if you want to try fucking, I'll go there with you and do my best to make it good for you."

I nodded like a loose foot peg and tried like heck to look game, not super nervous. "I trust you."

"But there's no rule that says Valentine's requires fucking or anything else sexual for that matter. At least for me, the holiday is about romance and connection." Jonas wrapped me up in a hug, holding me against him in a way that never failed to make me feel like I'd discovered the best mattress on earth or the perfect relaxation exercise.

"I feel really connected to you right now." I nuzzled his chest. "And the whole night has been weirdly romantic."

"Weirdly?" Jonas scoffed, and I sensed another lecture about expectations brewing.

"Well, I mean, we're two dudes."

"And we can't appreciate or need a little romance?" Jonas peered down the bridge of his nose at me, making me feel more than a little foolish.

"True." Needing to hide my heated cheeks, I looked away at the crackling fireplace, which cast a warm glow on the whole room. "And I like the romantic stuff. More than I thought I would."

"Good." He sounded like he was trying hard not to laugh.

"I guess what I want is, like, really romantic sex. To feel even more connected. And a lot of people would say that's what fucking is. But now I'm not so sure. Gah. I'm like the one dude in America who doesn't jack off to fucking scenes in porn."

"You're hardly the only one." Jonas did chuckle then, but it was kind, and he held me close. "Maybe it's my nursing background or maybe just how I'm wired, but I find a lot of ass play, especially in porn, really clinical. One finger, then two, add more lube, and so on."

"Yes. Clinical." I exhaled, relief coursing through me at finding the right word. "Not gross or disgusting, but just not sexy. And I thought all day I'd offer to fuck, but then you said we don't have to, and I felt relief, but I don't want to wimp out?—"

"Breathe, Declan. That's a lot of thinking." Jonas kissed the side of my head.

"Overthinking," I agreed weakly.

"Drop this notion that sex with another man is an extreme sport." He wasn't wrong, so I had to snort-laugh at myself along with him. "We're not out here trying to level up. How about we get back to what we're good at?"

"Kissing?" I asked hopefully, tilting my mouth up. He obliged me with a soft kiss, one that made me shiver and smile at the same time.

"And connection."

"Yeah, that too," I said breathlessly as he skated his hands over my back. Huddled under the blankets together, I lost all sense of time, all my focus saved for the next kiss and the one after that. We kissed and touched, and despite having done exactly this before, the living room locale in front of the fire and under the covers made each caress feel brand-new. Special.

That was what I'd wanted for tonight, but I wasn't sure why I'd ever thought we needed something extra to make it special. Simply being in the same room with Jonas was special. The way he made me feel was special. He looked at me like I was the unveiling of a new dirt bike model, and he couldn't wait to discover all my bells and whistles. But deeper than that, he made it safe to share secrets and worries, and he made me feel understood on a very basic level.

That was special. What we'd found here together these last few months was special.

"Can I show you something?" Jonas whispered as he readjusted our positions so he was spooning me from behind.

"Yeah." I tensed, though, more of those weird nerves as his cock brushed the crease of my ass.

"Relax." He kissed the back of my neck and stroked my chest and abs. "No penetration. Just holding you like this and moving together."

He shifted so his cock was between my thighs and he was holding me closer than I'd ever been before. A light, airy feeling took hold of my insides.

"Oh, I like this." I exhaled into his embrace, relaxing fully against him. His arms were strong and sure, biceps flexing around me, thick thighs bracketing mine, sturdy torso giving me something to lean into. "It might be my new favorite."

"Mine too." He teased my earlobe with his tongue, making me shiver, but I was hardly cold, not with a warm, wonderful man behind me and covers over me. I was as comfortable as I could ever remember being.

Over the last few weeks, Jonas holding me had become a sort of guilty pleasure—something I adored but also felt vaguely weird about how much I craved it. However, there was nothing weird or guilty about this. Letting him hold me and enjoying it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

And when he snaked his hand down my front to grasp my cock, all I could do was moan. All my guy friends liked to talk about coming. Nutting. Getting their rocks off. They made it sound like orgasm was the only point of sex, but with Jonas, the point, the entire point, was how he made me feel inside.

Yes, I was going to come, embarrassingly quick, but this kind of sex was about as far from jerking off alone as one could get. I wanted to come, not to take something as mine but rather as something we shared together.

He'd either spit on his cock or found some lotion because his cock was slick as it slid between my thighs.

"Squeeze your legs tighter." Jonas moaned low as soon as I did, which made me want to do it again. I rested my uninjured foot on my walking boot, as close to crossing my legs as I could get. "Oh, that's good. Perfect."

"Yes. Jonas." I wasn't sure what I wanted. Something entirely too big and scary welled up in my chest, words I couldn't think, let alone say. I wanted him. Needed him. And if he stopped stroking my cock and thrusting against me, I might cry. "Don't stop."

"I won't, baby. I won't," he promised. With his free hand, he flicked one of my sensitive nipples.

"That." I moaned, head tipping back onto his shoulder. Our faces rubbed together, as close as the rest of us. I turned my head to demand a kiss, and he was right there, waiting for me. Perfection.

"Can you come, baby?" His voice was gruff. Good lord, I would have given him anything he asked for in that rough tone.

"Yes. Yes. Harder." I wanted to feel his strength moving against me, his power, all tempered by his care for me and how he held me so preciously. Each hard thrust between my legs sent a jolt of pleasure up my balls and carried me that much closer to the edge. The tighter he held me, the more he growled, the faster he stroked, and the more urgently he moved, the more I thrilled to it.

If he hadn't been holding me, I would have floated away somewhere up by the crown molding or over the fireplace. But he was holding me, and everything was right with my world. We'd long since kicked the blankets free, but our bodies and the fire provided all the warmth we needed.

The fire crackled, and Jonas pinched my nipple. Pleasure jolted through my body. Ignition. My body tensed, back arching into him, and he moaned like he was also on the edge. Go. Knowing he was right there with me was all the gate drop I needed to come. Boom. Done. Let's go racing.

Jonas came too, between my legs, sticky and thick, our come mingling as we breathed in frantic unison.

"God, that was good," Jonas said sometime later.

He'd fetched a towel, and newly clean, we were cuddled again with a plate of brownies between us, the perfect after-sex food.

"Yeah." What I wanted to say was that I now understood why people called sex making love. Because we certainly had made something together. Something special, exactly how I'd wanted. And getting everything I'd hoped for was terrifying, especially in a season where nothing else had gone my way. But what came out was, "It was nice. Really nice."

"Just okay?" he teased, light fingertips dancing up my ribs.

"Stupendous. Wonderful. Amazing. You're the one with the big vocabulary." Chuckling, I wagged a finger at him.

"Your brownies are amazing." He held up a second piece, toasting me.

"Thanks." I grinned and claimed one more for myself. "Is it wrong that I'm really excited to go to bed?"

"Oh?" He waggled his eyebrows at me. "Round two?"

"I mean, other than the obvious." My cheeks heated. Maybe this was too sappy, even for him. "We get to spend the whole night together. Feels like a gift."

"It is." Eyes shining, Jonas pulled me in for a hug. Apparently, I hadn't said the wrong thing at all. "You are."

I inhaled deeply, letting his embrace feed me every bit as much as the brownies. I wanted this weekend to last, wanted it to snow and snow so we could be happily trapped together forever.