Page 12 of Playing with Fire

I resorted to desperately trying to remember every saint's prayer my abuela had taught me. Hail Mary, full of grace... Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle... Our Father, who art in heaven... I mentally begged every saint in the Catholic pantheon to intercede on behalf of my extremely inappropriate erection.

None of them answered.

In absolute desperation, I tried pinching myself through the blankets. Hard. Just enough pain to distract from the arousal. That backfired spectacularly when a jolt of unexpected pleasure shot through me. I tried again, pinching my nipple this time, and nearly gasped aloud as my cock throbbed painfully in response, dangerously close to spilling over the edge.

Holy shit. I'm going to Hell for sure.

I finally gave up and attempted to position myself in a way that would hide the evidence, curling toward the wall and pulling the comforter higher. Maybe if I pretended to be asleep already...

"Move over."

Fuck.

I scooted toward the wall, hyper aware of how my cock was still half hard in his borrowed sweats. Maybe if I stayed perfectly still and thought about dead puppies...

The mattress dipped as Xavier slid under the covers. I made the mistake of looking over just as he pulled his shirt off, and my mouth went dry like I'd been wandering in the desert. The health bar tattooed over his heart almost glowed, dark ink stark against his skin in the blue monitor light. My eyes traced the WASD keys inked along his ribs, the horror movie icons scattered across his shoulders, and the triforce right over his belly button.

I'd spent countless hours memorizing every tattoo while pretending to focus on my coding, imagining tracing them with my tongue like I was mapping circuitry. Now here I was, in his bed, while he was half naked and radiating heat like a server farm running at capacity. I could smell leather and smoke and that dark scent that was purely him, and my cock was absolutely not getting the message about appropriate crisis behavior.

"Sleep," he ordered, but there was a hesitancy to his movements as he shifted closer. For once, Xavier Laskin seemed uncertain of his welcome as his arm hovered over my waist.

"If you apologize for needing this, I swear to god..." He finally wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against his chest. Then, so quietly I almost missed it: "I need this too, you know. After tonight... I need to know you're here. Safe."

The admission seemed to cost him, his shoulders stiffening slightly as if he'd revealed too much. I froze, caught between wanting to melt into his touch and processing the unexpected vulnerability. Xavier Laskin had just admitted to needing another human being.

His hand slipped under the hoodie to rest against my belly, and I flinched involuntarily. I wasn't built like him. My body was soft, without any refined muscle like he had. I didn't have a six-pack. I didn't really have abs at all. Just a squishy belly with probably too much hair to be sexy. But Xavier just made a low appreciative sound and spread his fingers wider across my skin, claiming every inch like it was exactly what he wanted.

"You smell like me now," he said, voice rough with satisfaction.

The possessiveness in his tone made my cock throb almost painfully against the mattress, yet another pulse of blood making it strain against the confines of the sweatpants. If I shifted even slightly, I'd get friction against the sheets, and I honestly wasn't sure I could stop myself from rutting against them like a desperate animal. The combination of his voice, his scent, and his skin against mine overwhelmed me. I lay painfully hard, trapped between wanting to arch back against him to relieve the ache in my groin and needing to maintain enough distance to hide my reaction.

"What are we doing, X?" I whispered into the darkness, the question escaping before I could catch it.

The steady rhythm of his breathing paused. For several heartbeats, he was silent, and I feared I'd ruined everything by putting words to this nebulous thing between us.

"I don't know," he finally admitted, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. "I just know that when I saw that trailer burning, when I thought I might lose you..." His fingers tightened against my stomach. "I can't explain it. I just know I need you close."

"But you don't... I mean, you've always said you don't want..." I couldn't finish the thought.

"Want and need are different things," he said, his voice low against my ear. "I don't have all the answers, Leo. This is... new territory for me, too."

The admission—that Xavier Laskin didn't have everything figured out, that he was feeling his way through this just as blindly as I was—felt more intimate than his arm around my waist or his chest against my back.

"We'll figure it out," I whispered, offering him the same comfort he'd given me earlier.

His arm tightened around me. "Yeah," he agreed, the word rough with something that might have been vulnerability. "Now go to sleep before I change my mind."

But the way he pulled me closer contradicted his gruff tone, and I knew neither of us wanted to let go.

As Xavier pulled me against him, I caught his reflection in the darkened monitor screen. For just a moment, his carefully maintained mask slipped, revealing a complex mix of emotions I'd never seen on his face before. There was protectiveness and possessiveness, yes, but also a vulnerability that made my breath catch. His eyes met mine in the reflection, and I watched him deliberately rebuild his walls, piece by careful piece. But now I knew what lay behind them, and that knowledge felt more intimate than his arm around my waist.

His warmth dragged me under, the safety of his arms winning out over my anxiety. My eyes grew heavy as his fingers traced idle patterns on my stomach. I should move away. Should put space between us. Should do anything except melt into his touch like I'd dreamed of doing for two years.

But I was so tired. And he felt so good. And maybe just this once, I could allow myself this comfort without drowning in guilt.

The last thing I registered before sleep took me was Xavier pulling me closer, his breath steady against my neck, and the terrifying certainty that whatever was happening between us, there was no going back to the careful distance we'd maintained before.

Leofellasleepexactlylike I knew he would: fighting it until the last possible second. I kept my hand on his stomach, feeling each breath, memorizing the soft curves that he tried so hard to hide. I knew Leo was self-conscious about how he looked, but he didn’t need to be. He was perfect just the way he was, every inch of him. Perfect and safe andmine.

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