Page 12 of Crybaby
Now it was Jason’s turn to frown. “Do you seriously think I’m gonna go home with this dude when we’re, like…here on your first gay bar adventure? Come on, this is aboutyou, dude.”
“You say it’s about me, but you dance with him, not me.”
Jason blinked, eyebrows rising in surprise. “I mean…we can dance too, I didn’t know you wanted to.” It made sense, though—he often just danced with friends when he’d frequented bars and clubs in his early twenties, and it wasn’t surprising that Sasha wanted to keep to something familiar for his first time out.
Sasha didn’t seem completely satisfied, but he shrugged and didn’t complain when Jason paid for his drink.
“Hey,” Jason said, turning to Travis. “I’m really sorry, but I’m gonna hang out with my buddy…I think he needs some quality time.”
Travis looked disappointed but nodded amicably. “No problem, man. Have fun.”
Jason led Sasha to a corner of the wooden bar to finish their drinks, trying to make conversation, but Sasha was unusually reticent, and he eventually gave up, watching the dance floor until their drinks were done.
“Still wanna dance?” Jason asked, and Sasha didn’t even bother replying, just pulled Jason into the mass of bodies.
Jason tried to let all his thoughts slip away from him. There was the thrum of alcohol, the sweat on the nape of his neck, the jostle of other bodies moving to a beat. And then there were Sasha’s black eyes, the cutting force of them, and the way his body moved, his hips and feet, until he was pressed against Jason.
“Sasha,” Jason murmured, staring up at him. There was a current sweeping him along, getting stronger and stronger, and Jason wasn’t sure he’d be able to escape it.
There, in all that heat and noise, in that strange place with strange people, Sasha leaned down and kissed him. Soft and dry at first, a shock that would have had Jason freezing if it weren’t for Sasha’s hands on his waist.
Jason pulled away to say something, to ask what the fuck was going on, to ask how this was happening now, after all this time. To ask Sasha not to give him something that he couldn’t keep. But his head was a hive of electrical currents, body buzzing and jerking forwards to kiss Sasha again, to feel the warmth of breath just before the kiss became wet, just barely, barely, before plunging fully into the deep.
Fuck, it was too much, and not enough, and when Jason instinctively pulled at Sasha’s hair and he gasped into Jason’s mouth, he felt a jolt so strong go through him that it seemed to pulse through the room, a distortion of music and movement.
They kissed and danced and ground against each other until Jason was hard and desperate—more desperate than he usually was—for Sasha, and he had to get out of there.Theyhad to get out of there.
Sasha went willingly as Jason dragged him out, the cool air outside cutting through the muffling cotton that had enveloped his thoughts, although it did nothing to calm the desperate hunger that only had one target.
Jason looked out to the busy street, feeling rudderless, before Sasha pulled him close again.
“Go to your apartment?” Sasha asked. It was so strange to feel this afraid at such an innocuous suggestion.
“Sasha…” Jason shook his head.
“You don’t want?”
“It’s not about whether I want to or not. This is your first, like…we should talk about this or, I don’t know.”
“You always want talk. Why? We are friends. I want sex. If you don’t want sex, we don’t have sex. If you want sex, we have sex. Not so complicated.”
Jason bit the inside of his mouth. It was a hell of a lot more complicated than that, but…what was one more bad decision? “Okay.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Sasha stayed practically plastered to Jason during their wait for the Uber, on the ride, while he opened his apartment door. It was like he’d slipped into some cruel, idealistic alternate universe in which his best friend had transformed into the creature of Jason’s fantasy—the one who actually wanted him back.
“Okay, wait, let’s just—” Jason tried to say, but Sasha seemed to be driven by the hurtling force of momentum, unable to stop as he crowded Jason against the front door, kissing him again.
There, without the lights and the bodies and the music of the club, everything seemed infinitely more real. More intimate. Like it was really him and Sasha and not some stranger asking for nothing more than a night of sex.
He could smell Sasha, his cologne and shampoo, could feel the familiar planes of his face as his hands lifted to stroke his cheeks and get control of the kiss by tilting Sasha’s head where he wanted it. The little, caught, crinkled noises that Sasha was making were foreign, but the voice they carried was known and dear.
“Okay, let’s, come on,” Jason urged, and this time he fisted his hand in Sasha’s shirt and pushed steadily, walking him back into the living room.
Sasha went, his eyes darker than the darkness around them.
“I want to give you blowjob,” Sasha’s wet mouth said. Jason had to close his eyes for a moment.
