Page 13 of Playing with Fire

He shifted restlessly in his sleep, making small sounds of distress. Nightmares about the fire, probably. I pulled him closer, pressed my lips to the back of his neck. "I've got you."

His whole body relaxed at my voice. Then, still deep in sleep, he turned in my arms until he was facing me. His face pressed into my chest, right against the health bar tattoo. Even unconscious, he trusted me completely. The power of that knowledge burned hotter than any fire I'd ever set.

I breathed in my scent on his skin. He'd used my soap, was wearing my clothes, sleeping in my bed. Every territorial instinct I had purred with satisfaction. This was how he should always smell, like he belonged to me.

My mind kept returning to that kiss. To the way his body had responded instantly. To how something had shifted in me when our lips connected. It wasn't sexual attraction in the way I understood it from other people's descriptions. I didn't look at Leo and feel that urgent need to get naked with him that Xander described when talking about his conquests.

But there was something else there. Something I couldn't name. A connection that went beyond my usual need for control. Seeing him like this made me realize how much I wanted him to be safe. Happy. Satisfied. His wellbeing had somehow become essential to my own. I didn't need to have sex with him for that to be true, but if Leo needed that kind of connection... maybe? The thought didn't repulse me the way it normally would with anyone else. If it was Leo, maybe I could want that too.

I smiled as he shifted, pressing himself against my thigh. He was still hard and, from the feel of it, having a damn good dream. His body was betraying all his carefully maintained control, all those walls he built up around his want. And he had no idea. I shifted my leg slightly, giving him better access, curious how far this would go. The way his breathing hitched when I moved told me everything I needed to know about who starred in his dream.

I studied his face in the dim light. The long dark lashes against his cheeks. The slight parting of his lips as his breathing quickened. The way his hands clutched at me like he was afraid I'd disappear. This was Leo without his defenses, without the careful distance he maintained to hide how he felt about me. This was Leo at his most honest, his most vulnerable.

And it was beautiful.

The word caught me off guard. Not a term I typically applied to people. Beautiful was for elegant code, for the perfect symmetry of a well-executed exploit, for the transformative power of fire. Not for soft-eyed tech nerds with questionable taste in anime.

Yet here I was, transfixed by the sight of him.

"Look at you," I murmured, petting his hair as he whimpered and rutted against me, still fast asleep. "So desperate you can't even wait until you're awake." My voice softened, surprising even me. "Don't worry. I'll take care of all your needs."

It was my responsibility, after all. Everything about Leo belonged to me. His safety, his happiness, and apparently his sexual frustration, too. The thought should have made me uncomfortable. Sex had always been a gray area for me, a theoretical concept that held little personal appeal. I'd identified as asexual for years, and it had felt right. Simplifying. A clean explanation for why I didn't experience attraction the way others seemed to.

But this—watching Leo seek pleasure even in sleep, knowing I was the cause—felt different. I didn’t want to strip down and fuck him, or have him fuck me, but there was something undeniably satisfying about knowing I could give him this. That I could be the one to break down his barriers, to see him completely unguarded.

His movements grew more desperate, little gasps escaping against my chest. I could feel the exact moment he started to wake up. The way his body tensed, his breath catching as consciousness crept in.

"Oh god." His voice was pure panic. He tried to scramble away, practically falling over himself in his rush to apologize. "Fuck, Xavier, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... I would never... Please don't..."

I kept my arm around him, preventing his escape. "You're not going anywhere. And if you apologize one more time for having basic needs, I'm going to be annoyed."

"But I was... And you're... And I..." He was practically hyperventilating. "This is so fucked up, I can't believe I..."

"Leo." I cut through his spiral with the voice that always made him listen. "Do you need to come?"

He made a strangled sound. "What?"

"It's a simple question." I kept my tone matter of fact, but something inside me was shifting, realigning. This wasn't just about helping him anymore. There was a need growing in me too, not for sexual release, but for connection. For crossing this boundary between us in a way that would make him irreversibly mine. "You're stressed, you're touch starved, and you've had a hell of a night. If you need to get off to feel better, that's fine. If not, also fine. But stop acting like this is some huge deal."

He stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "You're my best friend."

"And?" I shifted my thigh deliberately against him, feeling his cock twitch in response. The physical reaction fascinated me in a detached sort of way, but what really captivated me was the vulnerability in his eyes. The naked want mixed with fear of rejection. "You're also mine to take care of. Anything you need, I'm here for it. I've told you that a thousand times, so stop making this complicated."

"But..."

I paused, suddenly unsure. This was new territory for me too, and I found myself wanting him to be fully on board, not just accepting my decision because I'd bulldozed over his concerns. "I'm offering to help. If you want it. If you don't, that's fine too. But don't overthink this because of some idea that I don't want it."

"Do you, though?" His voice was small, hesitant. "Want this, I mean. You've always said you don't... that you're not into..."

The question hit somewhere vulnerable. Did I want this? Not in the way he probably meant. But in some way I couldn't fully articulate yet? Yes.

"I want you," I said finally, the words feeling right as they left my mouth. "Not in the conventional sense, maybe. But I want to take care of you. Want to be the one who helps you through this. I want to… I want to be the reason you feel safe, happy, and sated." I met his eyes, letting him see the truth there. "Does that count?"

Something in his expression shifted, hope replacing uncertainty. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, that counts."

His hips moved slightly, like he couldn't help himself. "You really don't mind?"

"Mind isn't in the same universe as what I'm feeling right now," I admitted, the honesty surprising me. I tightened my grip on his hip, guiding him into a rhythm against my thigh. "There. Just like that."

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