Chapter 5: The First Touch
The rain whispered against the window, a soft, steady backdrop to the sound of their breathing. Simon’s glasses were on the nightstand. The world beyond them had shrunk to this: the firm plane of the mattress, the warmth of Jason’s body caging him in, the shocking reality of uncalculated touch.
“Iterate, huh?” Jason murmured, his lips a breath away from Simon’s. He shifted, lowering Simon fully onto the comforter, following him down without breaking contact. The weight was exquisite, solid and real. Simon’s hands, those deft, inventor’s hands, fluttered for a moment before settling on Jason’s bare shoulders, his fingers pressing into the muscle there.
“Hypothesis,” Simon breathed, his voice ragged. “Direct, unmediated tactile stimulation will yield a more coherent dataset than remote apparatus observation.”
“You’re such a dork.” Jason kissed him, swallowing his next logical argument. This kiss was slower, deeper than the one in the kitchen, a leisurely exploration that made Simon’s spine arch. Jason’s hands moved from Simon’s hips, skimming up his sides, feeling the crisp cotton of his dress shirt.
He broke the kiss, sitting back on his heels, straddling Simon’s thighs. The look he gave him was deliberately open, a question. Simon stared up, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his blue eyes wide and dark. He gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Jason’s fingers went to the buttons. He worked slowly, each pop of a button through its hole a deliberate punctuation in the quiet room. He pushed the fabric apart, revealing the pale, lean expanse of Simon’s chest, the subtle definition of his stomach, the rapid flutter of his heart just beneath his sternum. Simon shivered, though the room was warm.
“You’re beautiful,” Jason said, the words leaving him like a simple truth he’d just discovered.
Simon made a disbelieving sound in his throat. “My body-fat percentage is—”
“Shut up about your data.” Jason bent, placing his mouth over Simon’s heartbeat. He kissed the skin there, feeling the wild percussion against his lips. Simon’s breath hitched, his hands flying into Jason’s damp hair, not to guide, just to hold on.
This was the inversion of everything. Jason was the explorer now, the one mapping unknown territory. He used his hands, his mouth, the rough-smooth texture of his own jeans against Simon’s legs. He traced the line of a collarbone with his tongue, learning its shape. He found a spot just below Simon’s right rib that made his whole body twitch and a punched-out gasp escape his lips.
“Sensitive there?” Jason whispered, doing it again, more gently.
Simon nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. “A-concentrated cluster of nerve endings. Not statistically significant.”
“Feels significant.” Jason kissed his way down the tense plane of Simon’s stomach, feeling the muscles jump under his lips. Simon was trembling, a fine, constant vibration. Jason paused, his hands on Simon’s belt. He looked up the length of his body. Simon’s eyes were open now, watching him with a vulnerability that was almost devastating. It was the same look he’d had strapped in the chair, but now it was freely given. Not extracted.
“Okay?” Jason asked, his thumb hooking over the leather.
Simon’s answer was to raise his hips, a small, urgent movement. “Please.”
The rest of their clothes became a tangle on the floor, joining the flannel and the dress shirt. The air was cool on new skin. For a long moment, Jason just looked, drinking in the sight of Simon laid bare, pale against the navy comforter, completely surrendered. He’d seen him before, in labs, in pools, but never like this. Never his.
He lay down beside him, propped on one elbow, and just touched. He ran the backs of his knuckles down Simon’s arm, from shoulder to wrist, feeling the fine hairs rise in their wake. He let his fingertips skate over Simon’s hip bone, the dip of his navel, the sharp line of his jaw.
Simon was uncharacteristically quiet, save for the ragged pulls of air into his lungs. He tracked Jason’s movements with a rapt, scientific attention, as if trying to memorize the path of each spark.
“You’re thinking so loud,” Jason whispered, bending to kiss his shoulder.
“I’m trying to… catalog. The sensory input is… overwhelming. My usual processing protocols are failing.”
Jason smiled against his skin. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. “Remember the machine? The third cycle, with the rotating nodes?”
Simon’s eyes flew open, a fresh wash of pink coloring his chest. “Of course I remember.”
“You know where it got me the worst? Right here.” Jason’s fingers alighted, feather-light, on the lowest part of Simon’s ribs, just above the hip. The spot he’d noticed earlier.
Simon inhaled sharply, his body curling instinctively away from the touch. A laugh, bright and startled, burst from him. “Wait—”
Jason didn’t press. He just grinned. “Payback’s a bitch.”
“This is unscientific,” Simon protested, but he was laughing, the tension in his frame softening into something pliant and playful.
“It’s fair.” Jason shifted, his mouth finding the hollow of Simon’s throat. He kissed, then nipped gently. Simon’s laughter dissolved into a low moan. The sound went straight through Jason, hot and urgent.
The dynamic shifted again, the playfulness melting into a deeper, more concentrated heat. Jason’s touches became more deliberate, more claiming. He learned the weight of Simon’s thighs, the curve of his back, the way he gasped when Jason’s hand slid between them. Simon, in turn, began to map Jason in return, his touches growing bolder, his scientist’s curiosity transforming into a lover’s hunger. His fingers traced the faded lines on Jason’s torso from the chair’s restraints—not with guilt now, but with a kind of reverence.
When Simon’s clever, precise fingers wrapped around him, Jason saw stars. He dropped his forehead to Simon’s collarbone, a rough sound torn from his chest. “God, Simon…”
“Is this… correct?” Simon whispered, his movement experimentally slow.
“It’s perfect. Don’t you dare calibrate it.”
Their movements grew less coordinated, more desperate. The world narrowed to skin, breath, and the drumming rain. Jason reached over, fumbling in the duffel he’d dropped by the bed, his fingers closing around the items from the bathroom sink. The crinkle of foil was loud in the room.
Simon watched, his lips parted, as Jason prepared himself. The trust in his eyes was absolute, a bottomless well. When Jason moved over him, guiding himself, pausing at the threshold, Simon’s hands came up to frame his face.
“Jason.” His name, just his name. No data, no analysis.
He pushed in, slowly, inch by devastating inch. Simon’s body tightened around him, a sharp gasp bursting into the space between their mouths. Jason stilled, trembling with the effort, letting him adjust. Simon’s eyes were wide, locked on his, full of a wonder that was almost painful to see.
“Okay?” Jason managed, the word gritty.
Simon nodded, his fingers tightening on Jason’s jaw. “More. Please. More.”
It wasn’t graceful. It was messy, and trembling, and real. Jason set a rhythm that was deep and relentless, each thrust punching a soft, ragged sound from Simon’s throat. Simon’s legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer, closer. His head was thrown back, his exposed throat a line of perfect vulnerability. Jason kissed it, tasting salt.
He could feel the tension coiling in Simon, the inevitable, seismic gathering. He reached between them, his hand closing around him in time with his movement. Simon cried out, a shattered, beautiful sound that was nothing like his speaking voice. His body arched, stiffened, and then unraveled in a series of helpless, shuddering waves, his climax painting warm stripes between their stomachs.
The sight, the feel, the sound of it undid Jason completely. A Few thrusts later, he followed, falling into the abyss with a groan muffled against Simon’s sweaty neck.
For a long time, there was only the sound of the rain and their slowing breaths. Jason, heavy and spent, rolled to the side, taking Simon with him, unwilling to break the connection entirely. Simon curled into him immediately, his face pressed into the hollow of Jason’s shoulder, his limbs folding against him like a question finally answered.
Jason pressed a kiss to his damp hair. “So? Results?”
Simon was silent for so long Jason thought he’d fallen asleep. Then, his voice, muffled and thick with exhaustion and emotion, whispered against his skin.
“Conclusion: The apparatus was a crude substitute. The error margin was… catastrophic.” He tilted his head back, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. “The real phenomenon is far more complex.”
Jason laughed, a breathy, contented sound. He pulled the discarded comforter over them both. The click-click of the forgotten machine beneath the bed seemed to have synchronized with the rhythm of the rain, a fading echo of a different language. Outside, the world was wet and dark. In here, they were a closed system of their own, self-contained and radiant.
Simon’s fingers traced idle, meaningless patterns on Jason’s chest, over his heart. “The study is concluded,” he said, quietly. “What happens tomorrow?”
Jason caught his wandering hand, lacing their fingers together. He brought their joined hands to his mouth, kissing Simon’s knuckles. “We write a new protocol.”