Page 69 of Kiss-Fist
It takes me a second to realize that it’s for me. My name. I point to myself, and he nods.
‘What does it mean?’
‘Male,’ he signs, then indicates the space above his nose. Denver taught us this too. Male, female, and neutral placementfor gendered things. Then, he shrugs again as if to say, ‘And.’
I wait.
He points at me again. ‘You’re smart.’ He signs something else, but I don’t have enough vocabulary to understand. The look on his face seems like he’s daring me to argue with him. It’s tempting. It tends to end well once we’ve worked it all out, and my dick gives a feeble attempt to get interested, but I’m more than spent.
Instead, I copy the sign, and he smiles softly, nodding.
‘You like?’
He cocks his head, and I nod. Then he bites his bottom lip.
‘Or your name sign could be…’ He taps the side of his mouth, right where my dimple would be.
I repeat it, and he grins.
‘Yes. I like both.’
I do too.
He leans down and kisses me before retreating and signing, ‘My Thom.’
My heart skips a beat. ‘My—’ I stop. I realize I don’t actually know what name sign I should use for him. I’ve seen the one he gave me at the gym, but his friends use a different one. ‘What’s yours?’
He sighs and looks a little annoyed, which is interesting. ‘I have a few, same as you.’ He makes anRwith his hand and taps it over his heart. ‘Mom and Dad.’ His name from his mom and dad. He makes another sign I don’t recognize before adding, ‘My sister and her kids.’
I nod.
He does another short series of signs—something with two fingers up and thumb tapped against his forehead. It’s…different.
‘What does that mean?’ He shakes his head quickly, and I lift a brow. There’s a story there. I lunge at him and pin him to the bed. ‘Tell me.’
He grins and signs something too fast for me to follow, then bursts into laughter at the outrage on my face. I kiss him hard, a little meanly, then push away and grope for his laptop.
‘Interpreter,’ I start and attempt to get the lid open, but he rolls me and pins me with a strength that’s surprising—but also kind of hot.
He grins down at me. “No,” he says aloud.
My dick kicks.
He looks down and smiles again. “Kiss me.”
Dear god, sign or speech, it doesn’t matter. I will do literally anything he asks.
Twenty minutes later and I’ve forgotten what we were wrestling about entirely. My libido is interested but exhausted, and while Robbie has zero problems flirting and playing with me, his soft cock tells me that he’s also spent, probably emotionally as well as physically.
We make out like horny teenagers for a while instead before he flops back and watches me as my second med starts to wear off and the twitches begin. I’ve been in fairly decent control of my ADHD for years, but the evening always has me a little restless.
‘You okay if I—’ I have no idea how to sign it, so I mime doing sit-ups.
He gives me a go-ahead gesture, then rolls onto his stomach and props his chin up on his hands, grinning as I drop down. I like this. I like being watched by him. I ruck up my shirt, then start to curl, flexing every muscle I can as I work my core.
I can see his face going a little pink, his lips parted, pupils wider than usual.
I wink at him as I flip over and begin a series of push-ups. I hear a soft groan as I lift—up and down, up and down—trying to clear away some of the energy fizzing through my veins.
