Page 68 of Kiss-Fist
Without warning, my cock erupts, my entire body spasming. My loud cries surely can be heard by his neighbors. The bed slamming hard shakes the walls and rattles the pictures.
He doesn’t hear it, of course. He just rides me through the wave, drawing it out before ripping his condom off and coming all over my chest. It’s so much that it hits my chin, covering me in his white sticky cum.
He finally slows, his hips easing to a stop. My dick is still in his hole, happy to have made a home there, not wanting to leave his warmth.
“Fuck,” he says aloud, and I let out a shocked laugh.
“Yeah.”
He falls to my side and inhales and exhales deeply, trying to catch his breath. And thank god for that. I need time to recover. I need a nap.
Thankfully, Robbie has his wits about him. He reaches down and tugs my condom off my dick, tying it off and tossing it aside before turning his head to look at me.
I do the same, noting his flushed cheeks and his drooping eyelids.
‘Perfect,’ I sign. ‘You.’
He nods and leans up slightly, wanting to make sure I see this.
‘You perfecttoo.’
We lie in silence for long minutes, my hands carding through his hair as he rests his cheek against my heart. His fingers are tracing shapes and letters against the skin of my chest, but I have no idea what he’s doing or trying to convey. Or maybe it’s nothing and he’s just moving for the sake of it.
At this moment, it doesn’t matter.
I just like holding him.
But after a while, he shifts and looks down at me, his gaze slightly hazy. Fucked out of his mind is probably more like it.
‘You have name sign?’ he asks me, and I blink up at him, my brain a little slower than normal. ‘Did Denver give you one?’
I frown. He hadn’t. Was he supposed to? I didn’t think we knew each other well enough for that. ‘No. Is that bad?’
He wets his lips and then eyes me, shaking his head. ‘No. I’ll give you one.’
That makes my chest constrict. I know about name signs. Learned about them from Leaf and again from my ASL teacher, Denver. They’re given to people in the community by Deaf individuals. Usually, they’re something that represents who they are as a person, what characteristics stick out about them.
I know this is special. It’s important. It’s a privilege I’m going to assume Robbie hasn’t given to a lot of hearing people before.
The weight of his gaze on me is heavy and intense. It’s almost too much, but it’s also impossible to look away from him. He leans in, lifts his hand to my face, and traces my jaw with the tips of two fingers. He follows a linetoward my chin, then traces around my mouth like he’s learning me by touch.
His fingers press down a little harder and coast over the front of my throat. He pauses, and I swallow. His brows lift, so I groan a little.
I’m rewarded by his smile. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.
His head tilts to the side as he moves his fingers to my temple and brushes them against it.
‘Do you know smart?’ he signs.
I frown before I realize he’s asking me if I understand the sign for it. I nod my fist. ‘Yes.’ It was in one of Denver’s first lessons when he was showing us the signs for class and study and learning.
He points at me, then signs, ‘Smart.’
I want to argue. In some ways, I am, but in other ways, I never will be. It’s like there’s a giant wall between me and the ability to learn some of the things I want to learn. Like written language is a code I will never be able to crack. Usually I’m at peace with it, but being around Robbie is…intimidating.
He’s like a literal genius.
He sighs and shakes his head, then makes aTand taps it on the side of his forehead—near his temple, but not quite on it.
