Chapter 7

7

brODY

I f Isaac kept looking at me like that, I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to keep the promise I made him. Reaching surreptitiously under my laptop, I adjusted myself in my pants. I shouldn't have done that, because just that brief touch had me gritting my teeth. My dick was aching, and when Isaac fixed those pretty green eyes on me, his expression so open and showing every lick of his own need, little jolts of electric arousal speared straight to my groin.

"Did you need me to read that again?"

Even his voice was angelic. Soft and smooth—until he got annoyed. Then it turned harder, with an aggressive edge that really got my blood flowing. As well as it could, at any rate.

Something had changed since the hospital, and I wasn't sure if it was because he pitied me or what. He wasn't as prickly, though, which I definitely liked. It made me think he was letting me in a little. That I was making some kind of progress.

My eyes shot to the cactus I'd set on top of the mini fridge, and warmth crept through me. No one got me presents, not even Bri. We just didn't do that. But Isaac had brought me this one small thing—and I hadn't been lying when I said it was like him in plant form. All bristles and spikes keeping you from the prettiest flowers that didn't bloom often. But when they did…when they did, they were everything.

"Hello? Earth to Brody?"

"Oh—yeah, can you read that part again?" I'd barely been able to pay attention since he started an hour ago, but I blamed that on my concussion. I also blamed the ceaseless thoughts of Isaac that kept jumping into my head on the concussion, too. But really, I knew better.

Ever since the hospital, the way he looked at me had become…more. More inquiring, more meaningful, more heated. Gentler. Filled with words and thoughts he didn't voice but didn't really have to, because he was an open book when it came to his expressions. He wasn't really able to hide his emotions, and fuck if I didn't love that. Being able to read him so easily when he refused to say what was actually on his mind. And I had a feeling that I was in his head a lot more than he let on.

Isaac started reading again, that smooth voice flowing over me, and I forced myself to focus and type a few notes. My mind started to wander within thirty seconds, and I was just staring at Isaac again, at the way his small, pink mouth shaped the words, how his eyes glided effortlessly along the lines I'd never be able to read properly, how he sometimes reached up to scratch absently at his uptilted nose. I could stare at him forever, and now, after knowing that there was a bleeding heart under all those spikes, I wanted to know him like no one else ever had. I wanted his kindness and his attention, I wanted his awkward efforts to console, to hear him trip over words that didn't come easily but he still tried to offer them anyway. I wanted to lay him back on this couch, stretch my body over his smaller one, and?—

"Brody?"

I ripped my eyes from his mouth to find him staring at me with concern. "Yeah? What's up?"

"I said maybe we should try to finish this on Wednesday? I think you should rest or something, you look flushed," he said, green eyes trailing avidly along my cheeks.

"I'm fine," I said, not wanting to end this. Not wanting him to leave. I watched as he slowly set the book down on the coffee table, anxiety that he was leaving rushing through me. But he just leaned his small body back on the couch, turning more towards me.

"You don't look fine," he said softly. "Why don't you put your laptop down."

I clutched the laptop harder, not wanting to move it away from the evidence of where all my wandering thoughts had gone. "No, that's—it's fine where it is."

There was a long pause, and then I almost choked on nothing when he asked, a slight tremor in his voice, "Are you hard, Brody?"

I could not have been more shocked at this change of pace, at the words he'd spoken so bluntly, at the heat in his dark green eyes. Eyes that kept wandering over my body, kept transferring some of that heat to me, kept telling me things that couldn't possibly be true. "What?" I gasped out.

"I asked you," he said, small pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, "if you were hard. Are you?"

"No," I lied, appalled at the huskiness of my own voice. But, fuck, what did this mean? Was I dreaming? Was this a hallucination brought on by my head injury?

"I think you are," he said, silky voice soft and low. "I think you should show me."

My cock jerked in my pants, and a tortured groan worked its way from my throat. "What are you doing, Isaac?" Because he'd asked me not to touch him, and I was trying hard—so fucking hard—to keep my promise, so why was he torturing me like this? Was that what it was, payback for accidentally triggering him? God, he was an evil little fucker and I loved it.

Isaac leaned forward, eyes penetrating mine, and said, "I haven't been able to think of anything but you for weeks, Brody. You're in my fucking head, and I just want to get you out. So maybe this will get you out."

The admission stunned me, thrilled me, and made even more blood rush to my cock. I was throbbing under the laptop, unable to look away from his burning stare. I couldn't say no to him. I couldn't. And I couldn't touch him. He'd made that clear from the get-go, and the fact that he hadn't moved any closer to me told me he still didn't want that. But I could show him. Show him what he did to me, just how deep under my skin he'd gotten. That he was in my head, too. "Are you sure this is what you want?" I asked, sounding rough and raspy, desire choking me.

Isaac's chest was heaving, little panting exhales coming fast from his lips, and his cheeks were flushed a delicious rose color. I wasn't sure I could get through this without touching him. His eyes were almost half-lidded as he looked me over and said, "Yes. I want to see you touch yourself."

Unable to stop the moan, I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth, hand snaking under the laptop to press the heel of my palm against my rigid cock. It was pulsing, hot and heavy, and fuck I wanted to watch him wrap those cherry blossom lips around me. "I need you to be absolutely sure you want to do this, Isaac, because I refuse to fucking hurt you again. I can't hurt you," I said softly.

His brows furrowed a little, and his eyes searched mine. There was a defiant stubbornness in the set of his delicate jawline and a flash of fire in his eyes. "I know," he said, shifting an inch closer. "And…I'm sure, Brody. I'm really fucking sure. Now move the laptop."

I moved the laptop. I let him see the ridiculous bulge that was tenting my sweats, and when he got on his hands and knees at the other end of the couch, his eyes clouded with lust and riveted on my groin, arousal thrummed through me so quick and hot I had to squeeze the base of my erection.

"Pull your pants down," Isaac said breathily. "Let me see you."

Jesus fuck.

Releasing myself, biting back a moan, I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my sweats and pushed them down to my knees. My cock bounced free, hard as a steel pipe and already leaking precum. It fell against my stomach, and I watched Isaac's face deepen to a dark red, heard the sharp, shaky inhale of his breath, saw him catch his bottom lip in a hard tug of teeth. His eyes flashed to mine, intent and piercing, and he whispered, "Touch yourself."

It was almost too much already, as he watched me grip my shaft. I didn't move my hand yet, too afraid of losing it completely, of making this end all too soon. With my other hand, I reached down to tug roughly on my balls, to try and bring myself down a bit. I let my head fall back against the couch, facing Isaac, my eyes taking in every inch of his perfect face flushed with arousal.

"Take your shirt off," he rasped. His little commands and lack of self-consciousness was making it hard to breathe. Letting go of my cock, I leaned forward to tug my shirt off and flung it carelessly onto the floor.

I would do anything he asked me to. Anything.

When I rested back against the couch, I could have sworn Isaac was closer now. The image of him crawling on his hands and knees, slowly stalking toward me to lean over my cock as I threaded my fingers through his tangle of blond hair, the feel of his breaths against the tip of my erection?—

"Brody," Isaac moaned, and it was a plea from his lips. I knew what he wanted. My breathing was heavy as I grabbed myself again, sliding the palm of my hand toward the head, gliding over the sensitive nerves just under it. A tortured groan shuddered out of me as I spread my precum down to the base. Every beat of my heart sent a wild pulse of red-hot arousal pounding through my cock, and Isaac's lips were parted now, his hands trembling against the cushions, his eyes completely hooded as he stared at the hand I was working up and down my aching length.

"God, you look so fucking pretty," I said hoarsely, watching as the pink in his cheeks darkened and spread, as his eyes flew to mine in surprise, as he licked those perfect lips. "So fucking beautiful. Can you see how hard you make me? Do you have any idea what you do to me, Isaac?"

Isaac's response was a low, desperate whine, and I was grunting with every pass and twist over the head, my hips pushing up to fuck through my fist, seeking friction, something harder, faster.

"Is this what you wanted to see? My cock leaking for you? Do you like this, Isaac? Do you like seeing how much I want you, how fucking hard just looking at you makes me?" Every word came out on a panted breath, and I wanted to see him , to push him back and shove his pants down. I wanted to see if I had the same effect on him as he did on me.

More precum was leaking from me now, and Isaac was breathing heavily, his fingers clutching the couch, his knuckles white, and when he sat back on his heels, quickly undid his pants, and shoved one hand inside, when his eyes rolled back in his head, when the thought that just watching me touch myself had made him so aroused he couldn't help but touch himself , I could feel my balls draw up, could feel the intense, pleasure-coated bursts of my orgasm start.

"Isaac," I groaned, and to my horror, I spread my left hand on the couch like I was reaching toward him, because I wanted to be the one to bring him to the edge, I wanted to have my hand shoved down his pants, working his cock over until he was screaming my name and coming harder than he ever had before.

But Isaac was lost in his own ecstasy, oblivious to my reaching hand, and when hot jets of cum started bursting from me in euphoric wave after euphoric wave, splashing against my stomach, my vision whited out and I was sure I growled his name. My vision blinked back right when Isaac's hand stilled as he stayed hunched over, his mouth slack with pleasure, his hips spasming in time with his own orgasm. He was moaning, one long, continuous sound so primal and desperate, almost a keening wail I wanted to capture in my mouth, that I kept coming for a few more seconds.

Isaac was panting hard, his small body shaking with the force of what he'd just experienced, and the desire to wrap my arms around him, to lick the cum from him, to nuzzle into his neck and bite and nip my way toward those rosebud lips was so strong that I opened my mouth and fucked everything up.

"Please, Isaac. Let me touch you. Please," I begged.

Isaac looked up at me then, his pale brows raised high and drawn tight. He looked tortured. Wrecked. And I hadn't even touched him. "Not yet," he said, voice hoarse and breathing ragged. "I can't…" His eyes roved over every inch of my exposed skin, at the cum smeared across my chest, at my slowly softening cock, but the heat was gone. He only looked terrified now, and I felt like a clamp had tightened around my heart.

What had happened to him? Who had hurt him to make him so afraid of something as simple as a touch? Because it wasn't simple for Isaac, and I wanted to find the person responsible and fucking beat them into nothing. "Maybe…" He squeezed his eyes shut, and I could tell by how rigid his posture had become that he was shutting down. Closing me out. When he opened his eyes again, he didn't look at me. "I have to go," he said, scrambling off the couch, quickly doing his pants back up, grabbing his coat and stumbling to the stairs.

He didn't look back.

I heard the door close quietly at the top of the stairs, knew he was gone, and wished I hadn't said anything. Wished I'd let him keep leading instead of trying to push for things he wasn't ready for.

Fuck.

I don't know how long I sat there with my pants around my knees, but by the time I got up, my cum had dried and I felt as empty as my balls.

But two words were seared into my mind, blinking on and off like a neon sign, and a small sliver of hope started to bloom.

Not yet.