Chapter 21

Leo was not an easy man to sexually arouse.

Newt had no idea why, on that occasion, Leo's body had reacted. He'd tried to create an identical scenario, Newt on top of Leo, experimenting with kissing, but nothing stirred in Leo's boxers. Not even a twitch. The more time that passed, the more days that bled into weeks, the more stressed Newt became over not being able to get a rise out of Leo.

Newt drew back, frowning at his latest attempt.

"What is it?" Leo asked, lifting onto his elbows.

"Nothing."

"If you don't want to?—"

"I do," Newt said firmly, trying to push Leo back to the bed by his shoulders, ready to try again.

Leo didn't budge. "You don't look like you're enjoying it."

"I am." Newt's frown intensified. He thought about it, really thought about it, and realised he wasn't enjoying kissing Leo anymore. The lack of reaction tied his stomach in knots and gave ammunition to the ugly voices in his head.

He couldn't turn Leo on.

Of course he couldn't.

He didn't have a clue what he was doing.

Whatever had aroused Leo the first time was a fluke, or he'd been thinking about someone else. That particular thought stuck a dagger in Newt's heart. Newt gripped the edge of the bunk above and heaved himself to his feet.

"Newt…"

"You're not enjoying it either."

Leo opened his mouth, but no words followed, no denial, and it stung. Leo didn't enjoy kissing him anymore. Newt didn't know what to do with that, other than to try again, and again until he resurfaced Leo's desire for him.

Maybe it had never been there.

Maybe Leo had always been imagining someone else.

Leo sat up and rearranged his vest top Newt had been tugging and twisting in an attempt to manufacture arousal. Nothing worked. It didn't matter if he was on top, or on the bottom, or they were both standing. It didn't matter if the kiss was slow or fast, if Newt nipped at Leo's lip or sucked on his tongue—nothing happened.

Newt stared at the locked door. It was the first time he'd looked at the door and wanted to be on the other side of it with Leo still in the cell.

But Newt couldn't escape.

"I feel like something is going on," Leo murmured after a long silence, "but I don't have a clue what."

"Nothing's going on," Newt replied.

That was the problem.

"Talk to me."

"I am talking to you," Newt snapped, knowing full well he sounded like a brat, but he wanted to get off the topic of him being unable to sexually arouse his cellmate. There were too many emotions that came with the failure, and a lot of them contradicted each other. Newt's temples throbbed with the beginning of another headache, brought on by yet another botched kiss.

Kissing Leo wasn't just unenjoyable but actively unpleasant.

Not knowing what else to do, Newt snatched his toothbrush out of the holder and brushed his teeth, avoiding Leo's confused eyes in the mirror.

Leo got out of bed and waited at Newt's side.

"Can I kiss you?" Leo asked.

Newt paused. He rinsed off his bristles, spat in the sink, then slotted his toothbrush back into the holder.

"Yes."

Leo pressed his lips to the corner of Newt's mouth, and it was gentle, soft, nice, and the butterflies all swooned, but…

But.

Newt turned and pressed his mouth to Leo's, more determined than before to get a reaction. He nibbled Leo's full bottom lip, pressed his tongue into his mouth, did everything he had on the night Leo got hard, but instead of a soft moan, he got a sharp as a blade ‘stop'.

Newt did so immediately, dropping back to the heels of his feet after rising to his tiptoes to chase Leo's mouth. He panted. Cold sweat prickled his nape. He struggled to meet Leo's eyes, and when he finally got the courage to, he hated what he saw.

Leo's gaze was as hard as his voice. His lips were pressed together in a firm line, so firm all the white scars stole the pink around them. Newt continued to pant, not from the kiss, but from something that felt like fear crawling up his body. His heart took off, pounding hard enough in his chest Leo must've heard its panicked thrashing, and then his lungs followed, hiccupping and tripping while he fought to breathe.

There wasn't enough oxygen in their cell.

"This is what I'm talking about," Leo said. "What's going on?"

If Newt could choose when to dissociate, he'd float away inside his own head right then, drift to the ceiling and stop feeling anything. Leo seemed to sense his thoughts and circled his thumb and forefinger around Newt's wrist, securing that tether between them.

The flight was out of the question with a locked door, leaving behind a fight. Newt yanked his hand from Leo, but he didn't release his hold, if anything, his grip tightened. Newt used his free hand to push him in the chest, but Leo stood, a man of muscle, and Newt's feeble shove did nothing.

"Breathe, Newt," Leo said softly. "Calm it down?—"

Newt ignored him and went for his final option. He pressed his hand to Leo's crotch and squeezed.

Mickey had told him if he was ever in a fight, go for the crotch. Newt didn't know if they were having a fight. He didn't know how hard he was supposed to go for it, but he doubted his featherlight approach was what Mickey had in mind. Mickey also didn't divulge the secret of what to do if you were having a fight with a man who couldn't feel any pain.

Leo's eyes flew open. He glanced down between them at where Newt had a light grip on him. He had hold of Leo. If he'd only managed to get him aroused, they wouldn't be staring at each other, frozen in a deadlock.

"Let me go," Newt growled through his teeth, tugging his snagged wrist.

"Let's make a deal," Leo said. "I'll let go of your wrist, if you let go of my cock."

Newt nodded.

"One," Leo counted. "Two…three."

They both let go. Leo backed away until he pressed against the wall beneath the window. Newt flung himself at the locked door, beating his fists to the metal. He slipped down until he was on his knees in front of it, heaving in great gulps of air. The top of his nose fizzled, his eyes stung, and before he knew it, he was crying into his palms.

"Please, Newt," Leo murmured behind him. "Tell me what's going on."

Newt swiped furious fingers across his eyes. The initial burst of emotion tapered off. He slowed his breathing, shuffling close to the door until his knees pressed to cold steel. He rested his forehead against it too, and the flash of brain freeze made his breath catch.

"If you don't want to kiss anymore, that's okay. We don't have to. I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable or upset. I…I'm sorry if I've made you feel you have to."

"You haven't," Newt murmured. "I can't be who you want me to be."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't…"

Another wave of emotion threatened to sweep Newt away. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly against the door.

"You're Newton Briggs," Leo whispered. "You're exactly who you're supposed to be. Who I want you to be. You like rocks and stars and cakes. You love your family, your cat and godawful talent shows. But you've got to help me out, help me understand. Something changed. I know it did, but I don't know what or why. If it's something I did, or said, or made you think that's got you feeling like this, you've got to tell me so I can make it right."

Newt bit his lip. "Do you remember weeks ago, we were kissing, and you…you got aroused."

Leo didn't say anything.

"I could feel it," Newt said.

"I said I was sorry," Leo whispered. "It happened. Sometimes it happens?—"

"You've got nothing to be sorry for." Newt closed his eyes. "I liked it. I liked the feel of you like that. I liked the sounds you made when I pushed against you, and how your breathing changed, and your lashes fluttered, and I liked how it made me feel, like I was in control and—" He shook his head. "I don't know. It's hard to describe, powerful maybe, but I felt like that, and I had no intention of going any further."

"That's okay, Newt. You were clear from the start."

"You got up in the night, and you…"

Newt didn't need to finish. Leo knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I know, but I couldn't get back to sleep afterwards. I felt guilty and ashamed?—"

"I'm sorry, fuck, I didn't?—"

"No." Newt held his hand out at his back, getting Leo to stop. "Not because you did that, but because I'd liked pressing against you and teasing you that way while we kissed, knowing I'd never take it any further, and I felt like that was wrong of me." He swallowed. "I went to find Scott while you were at your medical, so I could talk it through with him, but he wasn't in his cell. Thomas and Bull were, so I asked them about kissing."

"You got advice from Thomas and Bull?"

Newt nodded. "Bull said kissing is foreplay, but you still need the play to be satisfied, and that kind of makes sense because of what I saw you doing that night."

"Newt…"

"Bull said that just kissing when your partner needs more is cruel, and he asked me whether my discomfort was more important than your need for sexual release."

"I'm going to be rebreaking Bull's nose tomorrow morning."

"It's not his fault?—"

"He gave you shit advice."

"He asked a question, and it was me that answered it and acted on that answer."

Leo sighed. "Every time I've tried to kiss you since that night, you've leapt on me and turned it into something else, something I could feel wasn't right."

Newt cringed. "I wanted to get it out of the way. See if I could get you aroused, and then make myself?—"

"You think I want that? You think I want you to touch me in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable? Force yourself to do it? Jesus, Newt."

"How do I know I don't like something until I try it?"

"Because you know, Newt, and you do know, don't you?"

Newt nodded. "I couldn't turn you on, and I didn't understand what I was doing wrong, whether it was a fluke or if…"

"If?"

"You'd been thinking about someone else or replaying some sexual encounter in your head… Then it got frustrating, and confusing. I didn't want to touch you like that, but I was so angry with myself I couldn't get you to that point, and then I thought, if I actually got to that point, what the hell was I supposed to do next, how was I going to do something I didn't want to do?" Newt's breath hitched. "And every kiss we've had since that night, all that has been going through my head, and I've started to hate it. I hate that I hate kissing you because I miss when I didn't."

"For the record, I've never thought about anyone else, not when we've kissed, or cuddled, or spooned. There's no one else, only you. I don't know why I got…hard that day. It doesn't happen very often."

Newt's shoulders slumped. He didn't even understand his own reaction. It was disappointment and relief all in one.

"That's not on you, Newt," Leo continued. "It's been like that for as long as I can remember. My doctor told me it could be part of my condition, but it might not be. It might just be me, and for years of my life, it used to bother me. It made relationships difficult. I couldn't be who my partners expected me to be. I couldn't perform, and every time I kissed someone, I'd get anxious, and stressed, and frustrated, until I hated any kind of affection because I knew what would inevitably happen. They'd be offended, or hurt, by my lack of a response, and I'd feel awful. That was until you."

"Until me…"

"Yeah. I love kissing you. You don't expect anything more; there's no anxiety. I get to stroke your hair or brush your cheek, knowing it's not going to turn into some failed sex attempt where we both end up feeling like shit. You kiss without seeing it as a step to take towards something else, and I enjoy it. You did too until…"

"I ruined it."

"It's not ruined." Leo crossed the cell and dropped down behind Newt. "But Newt, advice from Bull and Thomas?"

"Scott was unavailable."

"How about talking to me?"

Newt shrugged. "Scott's a sexpert."

"This isn't about sex. We're not about sex, and I'm sorry my reaction made you think we were, that sex was expected. We're… I don't even know how to describe what we are, and I doubt someone like Bull could ever wrap his narrow-minded head around it."

"He does have a narrow head, always thought it."

"It's me and you, Newt. We're an us. Can I touch you now?"

"Yes."

Strong arms wrapped around Newt's chest and pulled him until he was sat on Leo's lap. "I can't promise you I'll never get hard again, but know that I was more than okay with what you were doing, I don't expect you to…do anything about it, and I'm quite capable of sorting myself out if my erection persists, understand?"

Newt nodded. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Almost messing this up."

Leo sighed. "Can I kiss you now?"

Newt stiffened, glancing back at Leo. He nodded, and Leo pressed kisses up from Newt's neck to his cheek and finished by blowing a raspberry.

Newt smiled and twisted enough on Leo's lap to stroke a hand along his jaw and bring their lips together in a firm press.

He sighed as he let Leo go and fell back against his chest.

"Promise me you'll never take advice from Bull or Thomas again."

"I promise," Newt said softly.

* * *

"Hey, Bull," Leo called.

Newt stiffened and gave Leo a pointed look, but Leo only raised his eyebrow in reply.

"Yeah, what?"

"See that hotplate right there?"

Bull turned to the back of the servery and the glowing red plate. "Yeah. What about it?"

"What do you think it will feel like to press your hand to it?"

"It'll hurt, you idiot."

"But how do you know that?"

"It's a hotplate?—"

"You might like it," Leo said. He bunched his lips, considering. "I think you should try it. You've got to try it to know you don't like something, right?"

Bull folded his arms beneath his drawn-on breasts. "Oh, I see what you're doing…"

"What's that?"

"The Starman sought my council, and I gave him some advice?—"

"What advice?" Scott asked, darting glances between Newt and Bull.

"It doesn't matter," Newt said in a rush. "It's all sorted now."

He tried to push Leo along, but he refused to move, eyeballing Bull while Bull eyeballed him back.

"I told the Starman to think about your needs, and not just his own. You should be thanking me."

Leo looked ready to leap across the servery units.

"Don't," Newt begged. "They'll drag you down to the seg unit."

Bull shrugged. "The way I see it, relationships are made of compromises."

"And you've had many of them, have you?" Leo asked.

"As it happens, I've been married six times."

"He told us in the sweatbox," Scott said. His voice came out soft before sharply rising. "He told us."

Scott's face reddened. His nostrils flared as he glared daggers at Bull on the other side of the unit.

"I know?—"

"It's not for you to prove someone's sexual orientation. It's not for you to push them towards something they're uncomfortable with just to satisfy your own beliefs."

"Erm." Leo blinked. He put a hand on Newt's hip and eased him away from Scott's wrath. "Well said, Scott."

"Hey." Bull held up his hands. "I meant no offence, and it wasn't just me. It was Thomas too."

Scott whirled in Thomas's direction. "What?"

Thomas took a step back. An angry Scott was almost as terrifying as a laughing one. "I'll deal with you in the cell."

Thomas blinked.

"And you…" Scott turned back to Bull. He grabbed the yoghurt off his tray and hurled it at Bull's forehead.

It splattered over his face and hair. Bull stumbled back, flailing, he reached behind him to steady himself, slapping one palm over the hotplate.

"Fuck!" Bull yelled, dropping to the floor. He clutched his wounded hand.

"Well, wouldn't you know," Leo muttered. "It does hurt after all."