Page 100 of Diamond Ring
“Maybe they over-pitched you,” Alex says, though it sounds more like a question than an argument.
Jake tilts his head from side to side; something in the movement makes Alex smile. “Maybe. Stuff happens.”
He expects another question, for Alex to drop the pretense that they’re anyone but who they are. For this to tip into a fight. Instead Alex bends slowly, carefully, and kisses the join of his elbow, right at his pulse, then runs his lips along the hatch marks of his scar. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Yeah,” Jake breathes, “me too.”
Another kiss, this one softer like an apology, at his elbow, then at his shoulder, then on the arch of his collarbone at the bumps Alex always seems fascinated by. They migrate from the door to the bed, Jake lying back under the heaviness of Alex’s legs as he straddles his waist.
“I might need some time,” Jake says. Because, fuck, his body is his body, and bodies can’t be bothered to follow any particular script.
“We have time.” Alex kisses underneath his ear. “Whatever time you need. Whatever you want to give me.” Whispered into the safety of his neck.
“What if that’s all of it?” The words slip out before Jake can stop them.
Alex stills, holding himself steady as if he’s bracing for an oncoming impact. “I thought you were leaving.”
Jake shakes his head. “I am. But I don’t want to leave you.” Two impossibilities he can’t seem to reconcile, so he pulls Alex closer and kisses him.
Alex deepens the kiss. His fingertips dig into Jake’s shoulders. His stubble scrapes the edge of Jake’s mouth. “I got you something.” He rolls off Jake, then goes to his suitcase where it’s sitting next to the dresser and digs around in the pocket.
Jake’s stomach dips, because Alex might have gotten him a necklace or a good luck charm, a planned kind of present. Except Alex looks vaguely embarrassed and like he’s trying to hide it. “Did you get me a sex toy?” Jake asks.
Alex flushes. “We don’t have to use it.”
“In that case, we definitely, definitely do.”
Alex is still down by his suitcase, like he can’t bring himself to show Jake. “I figured you might not want to bring something up here.”
A flash of Mike’sI like seeing people with things I bought.“That the only reason?” Jake says, and Alex smirks. “C’mere and bring whatever it is.”
Whatever it is turns out to be a prostate stimulator, moderately sized and capable of producing a deep rumble. Alex drapes himself across the bed, leg heavy on Jake’s, and kisses him between toggling through the toy’s various features like Jake might reject it for not having enough vibration patterns.
“This is like you as a vibrator,” Jake says.
Alex’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Compact”—Jake taps a button near the base to increase its intensity—“not super flashy but gets the job done.”
Alex looks like he might either laugh hysterically or kick Jake out of his room. “It hasn’t gotten the job done yet.” He drops the toy on the comforter and winds his arms around Jake. They lose time like that, kissing, Jake held under Alex’s solid warmth. It’s quiet except for their breathing, except for Alex’s occasional interrogatives if something feels okay, his laugh when Jake says,it’s good, it’s good, because it is.
Alex touches him all over and bites him, gently, at his shoulders, along his ribs, faint tooth marks that fade even if Jake wishes they wouldn’t. Eventually, he settles between Jake’s legs, determination creasing his forehead.
“It might not work,” Jake says. Because Jake’s tried various things—toys, meds, even if the latter involved embarrassing conversations with team management to get medical dispensations to take them. The best answer he’s gotten from a doctor is a baseball answer: things might work or they might not, and there’s only so much he can do about it.
Alex kisses him, a lingering kiss to the inside of his knee. “If it feels good, it worked.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you.” Something too honest to be said during a hookup, if that’s what they’re still pretending this is.
Another kiss. “You won’t.”
Jake swallows, throat going momentarily tight. “Okay, let’s try.”
Trying takes the form of Alex kissing him, at his waist and lower belly, and fingering him open, an amused tilt to his mouth when Jake gasps, when he clenches his hands on the bedding and digs in his heels.
“Good?” Alex asks then shifts his fingers like he already knows the answer.
Jake’s cock will do whatever it’s going to do—in this case, thicken but go no further—but the rest of him is turned on, wound tight and release-seeking. “Try it now,” he manages.
