Page 101 of Breakout Year
“Like what?” It was clear Akiva was compliment-fishing and equally clear to Eitan that he wanted to do nothing more than deliver said compliments.
“I’ve decided to cancel all my plans and just have you keep doing that.” A statement uncomfortably close to the truth, so Eitan pressed on. “I mean, isn’t having sex on Shabbat supposed to be like extra good or something?”
“I’m not sure fingering your boyfriend while he’s tied up was what the sages had in mind, no.” But Akiva was smiling.
“That’s twice you’ve called me that.”
That made Akiva look up at him, wary. “Is that not…” He trailed off.
“I like hearing you say it. I like feeling like I belong to you.”
Akiva kissed his leg again, higher this time, on the inside of Eitan’s knee. Up until now, Eitan hadn’t ever really had the urge to get a tattoo, but he wanted something there to mark that kiss, as permanent as one of Akiva’s freckles.
“I belong to you too.” Akiva said it low, and Eitan’s skin went hot and tight all over.
“Show me.”
“Are you sure?”
Eitan smiled. “Have you ever known me to rush into anything?” he asked, mostly to make Akiva laugh. “But yes, I’m sure.”
Akiva didn’t ask again. Just wedged a pillow under Eitan’s hips and told him to angle his legs up and back. It took some maneuvering, but Eitan had long ago realized there was very little he could ask of his body that it wasn’t able to do. Soon, they found the angle, and Akiva took his own cock in hand, pressed inside Eitan, skin against skin. Overwhelming.
Eitan clenched his eyes shut. Opened them slowly after Akiva dropped a kiss at his temple, the place he seemed addicted to kissing. Eitan would have to ask him about it just as soon as he remembered how to breathe.
“You okay?” Akiva was frowning minutely, and Eitan loved his freckles and his stubble and the way the low light rendered his eyes golden. But he loved that concerned little frown most of all.
“I’m good,” Eitan said. “I’m really good.”
“You don’t have to like this.” Akiva shifted slightly, enough to send a shivering cascade of sensations through Eitan before he stilled again.
“I’m trying not to like this too much.” Eitan angled his knees farther toward his chest. There was some convenience in being short. Who knew? He’d spent most of his professional life listening to his body, answering its joys and complaints. He knew what he wanted. “Please,” he added, and Akiva’s eyes went hot.
Akiva moved. His arms curved around Eitan’s shoulders, covering him, their mouths catching on the occasional thrust. Akiva had long legs, a runner’s stamina, a habit of stroking Eitan’s hair back from his forehead. Time moved slow or fast, one of the two, Eitan wasn’t sure which, their bodies slick against each other, the puff of Akiva’s breath in his ear.
The cord was tight against Eitan’s wrists, and he was grateful for the small bite of it, the slight discomfort the only thing that felt like it was keeping him from floating away. Pleasure shot up his backbone, gathered at the base of his cock. An urgency teetering on impatience.
He begged, mostly wordless moans, the occasional please. His throat was a little raw, his eyes a little wet, and fuck, fuck, fuck, was this what it was like all the time for other people?
On the last please, Akiva finally reached between their bodies and wrapped his palm around Eitan’s cock. Akiva’s forehead was beading with sweat; the arm that he was propping himself up with shook. He stroked in an increasingly erratic rhythm, and there was something gratifying in that, Akiva fraying just as much as he was. He bit at Eitan’s lips and said his name the right way, the way only Akiva ever said it, and Eitan felt as if he was approaching the edge of something he couldn’t pull himself back from, wouldn’t have wanted to even if he could.
He came, eyes clenched shut, body seizing, Akiva around him, filling him up, driving any other thought from his mind.
He drifted back to himself a few minutes later, Akiva resting atop him, clinging, cock softening inside Eitan, and there was a sensation Eitan hadn’t known about, another in the endless list he wanted to discover together.
Akiva pulled out, fussed at Eitan’s wrists until the cord came loose with a yank, rubbed the skin there with his thumbs and tutted. He left Eitan no choice but to shake his hands out to regain some feeling in them, then wrap his arms around Akiva. To hold him as Akiva shivered a few times and relaxed against Eitan’s chest.
Eitan’s brain hadn’t quite resumed its usual whirring. He took in details one by one: Akiva’s weight on him, the gradual relaxation of his breathing. This time, when Akiva kissed his temple, Eitan could gather enough words to ask, “Why there?” Even that came out panting.
Akiva lifted himself up, leaving Eitan’s body momentarily cold. “You have little creases.” Akiva tapped one with the pad of his finger. “They stay there even when you’re not smiling. They were there in Arizona, but they’re deeper now. As the season was ending, all I could think was, I’m not going to get to see how those change.”
Eitan smiled. Pulled Akiva down to him, held him, kissed him. Eitan knew he needed to get up, get cleaned up. Even for someone who didn’t sleep much, the ordeal of last night was getting to him. Sometimes in the midst of doing things, Eitan would get distracted, lose track of the task at hand. Now he knew exactly what he needed to do, but what he wanted to do was kiss the tiny indent behind Akiva’s ear. To whisper a thank you and a promise. That he’d be here. That they’d be here together.
43
Akiva
Akiva waited until the Havdalah candle had been lit, until they’d smelled the makeshift spice box—a bottle of cinnamon sticks Akiva had bought so long ago their scent had almost but not entirely faded—until they’d drunk too-sweet wine from the same cup and declared Shabbat over to turn to Eitan and say, “You shouldn’t quit baseball.”
