Page 94 of Saving Sparrow
“Your idea of paying me back is to turn me on?”
“Get to the point, Quentin,” I muttered.
“Right, where was I?”
“Stacey,” Elliott and Isaid in unison.
“Oh yeah. So, I’m sure you’ve seen her tits, right? Probably down to the nipples with as many buttons as she leaves undone.” He shivered as though the offending nips were right in front of him. “They really should implement a mandatory bra policy. Anyway, how does seeing them make you feel?”
“What do you mean?” Elliott asked.
“Do they make you feel all tingly and hard? Do you start imagining all the things you can do with them?”
“No?” It came out like a question. “What could I do with them?”
Quentin snorted. “Fuck if I know.”
“You’re not helping,” I said to him, but he was already on to his next theory.
“I guess you could be an ass man,” he said thoughtfully. “How about Judy McBooty?”
“Judith Douglas.” I chuckled when Elliott’s eyes bulged. “She’s in our homeroom. Booty shorts, sits next to you, always asks for a pen.”
“Oh! No. She doesn’t make me tingly or, er, hard either.”
“You, my friend, could be totally gay then.” Quentin nodded sharply.
“That’s not what that means, and he has other options to choose from. Or you don’t have to choose at all,” I said to Elliott.
He thought about it for a while. “No, I’m definitely gay. And I want you to tell me howitfeels.”
I could feel Quentin’s unhappiness. I knew where it came from, and if I let myself think about what this conversation could lead to, I’d be unhappy too.
As if trying to stall the conversation or discourage Elliott from even wanting to have it, Quentin said, “This feels premature. You don’t even know if you’re a bottom or a top—”
“Bottom,” Elliott cut in, then cleared his throat. “I’d be a bottom.” He paused a heartbeat before whispering, “How does it feel?”
My stomach tensed, trying to squash my anxiety. “Well, it hurts the first time. And depending on who you’re with, it might not even work out the first time. Or even the second time.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it could be their size, or maybe they’re just as inexperienced as you are. Like maybe they don’t know how to take their time yet, ormake it feel good. It took a few tries with Quentin.” I looked at Quentin, expecting him to make some joke about it definitely being a size issue, but he sat stiff, jaw clenched. Did he want me to be more general about what I said? Elliott was too busy hanging on my every word to notice the shifting emotions in Quentin’s gaze.
“Um…” I licked my lips. “The position you’re in matters too. Some positions hurt more.”
“You never look like you’re in pain,” Elliott said, still picking at the loose thread.
“I mean, yeah, but we’ve been doing it for a while now, and pretty consistently—which helps a lot. There’s the stretching part, and touching yourself helps too. But sometimes going a while without bottoming can make you feel like you’re back at square one.”
“And you’d know this how?” Quentin gritted out.
“It’s common sense,” I retorted through my own clenched teeth.
Elliott was too focused to allow whatever Quentin and I were going through to deter him. “But how does it feel when itisn’thurting? In words,” he added, because he already knew how good it looked and sounded, thanks to me.
“It’s equal parts mental and physical for me,” I started, scratching my itchy palm. “I get off on knowing how much he wants me, on knowing how good I’m making him feel.”
Elliott nodded, riveted.
