Page 67 of Jealous Guy

I can’t feel my legs.

The hand on my jaw squeezes hard, possessively, steering me closer and closer toward him. He tilts my head to the side, not a lot, just a little, just enough, and then tilts his own in the opposite direction.

He moves closer slowly, in increments that age me and give me life.

It’s a kiss that blazes into existence. A kiss with a life of its own. A kiss that exists outside this realm, where things like breathing are necessary. It cleaves me open. Breaks me apart and leaves me panting. It’s a kiss that starts roughly, like it was born after a long, grueling fight. It’s hungry and desperate, but it pivots quickly and slows into something unbelievably lovely.

Orion’s hands rake through my hair as he dips his tongue into my mouth. His fingers caging my skull and making it so that even though I’m paralyzed from the neck down, I stay on my feet because he’s here, and he has me. I open my mouth, offering him my tongue. He accepts it and claims it, taking it into his mouth like it’s something that’s always belonged to him.

36

Jordan

We’re in our apartment. On the floor in the living room. We crashed into walls on the stairway to get here, and when we did, we couldn’t work out how to unlock the front door. Orion is on his back, in my arms, his legs stretched out and knotted around mine. I pull him up, and myself too, because I want to be in my bed with him. I only manage to get him halfway up before the need to kiss him gets so strong that I can’t resist the urge to dip my tongue into his mouth again.

We’re both half-sitting, half-sprawled. I’m leaning back against the sofa, and I have my arms locked around him. He’s looking up at me, and the way he looks is not from this time. It’s so beautiful that I can’t take my hands off him. I stroke the backs of my fingers down his cheeks, relishing the sweetness of velvet that turns into sandpaper. His head becomes heavy in my hands, lolling back as he offers his mouth to me again.

I take it hungrily, kissing him in a way I’m not sure can be classified as kissing anymore.

What’s it called when you want someone so much that you want to be part of them, inside them, under their skin, and you want them to be part of you in exactly the same way? When you want to consume their essence and give them a piece of you they can’t ever give back?

Surely, there has to be a better word for it than kissing?

Whatever it’s called, that’s what we’re doing.

When our tongues touch, energy passes back and forth between us.

His.

Mine.

Ours.

We kiss until our hair is a mess and our shirts are twisted around our torsos. We haven’t undressed because we can’t break our kisses long enough to do so, but I know there’s more I want to do with Orion. I’m aware of it, but dimly.

I crook my right arm at the elbow, and he lies back in the safe place I made for him. His eyelids are heavy, dark eyes open only a crack, but the warmth that spills out of them is the best thing I’ve seen. His lips are stained dark. They’re puffy and so goddamn enticing that even as my balls ache and my lower belly begins to cramp with the need for release, I can’t resist leaning down and brushing my lips against his one more time.

One more kiss.

Just one more.

One more.

I’m trapped in a loop I don’t think I’ll ever escape from. I want more, need more, but I can’t stop kissing Orion.

It’s just that he’s perfect. Kissing him is perfect. Holding him is perfect. Looking into his eyes is perfect. Kissing him again is even more perfect.

It’s more than perfect, actually. It’s the hottest, sexiest, sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me. When we kiss and my lips part, so do Orion’s. Like magic. Like we’re communicating telepathically. We’re both overtly aware of what the other one wants and what they’re going to do next. I part my lips, and he parts his. At the same speed. At the same exact time.

When my tongue inches into his mouth, his rises to greet mine. When they meet, I see fireworks. No, not fireworks, stars. I see stars. Three stars, to be exact. Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. A neat, tight row of lights. An asterism that hides inconceivable cosmic distances behind captivating sparkles. Multi-star systems that orbit slowly, glittering brightly as they dance around each other in the dark.

Orion moans when I kiss him deeply and whines when I pull away to look at him.

He’s aching too. He must be because the next time I lean in, he gasps and his hand darts between his legs. He rubs his cock with the heel of his hand and makes soft, sad sounds in my ear.

“Orion,” I say. “Tell me what you need?”

His lips move, but no sound comes out. They move in the shape of letters that spell out, “You.”