All The Ways We Touch [MxM]

thirty-one - let me see your insides pt. two

As Elliot came out of sleep, he finally realized how they were lying and electricity crackled through him at their connection. 'He's holding me...I can feel his body pressed against mine, his arms wrapped around me tightly. How? Oh god, I'm crushing him.'

"Jamison?" He whispered, unsure if he was also asleep, not wanting to wake him.

"Yeah?" He mumbled against his back. "Are you okay?"

That was a difficult question to answer. "I'm sorry for crushing your arm." While he'd have loved to stay like that forever, Jamison's arm had to be completely numb.

Releasing his grasp on Elliot, Jamison frowned as the warmth and comfort he'd felt from cuddling him began to dissipate. He began to shake the blood back into his arm before the pins and needles set in. "Don't be," he said. "It was worth it."

As Elliot rolled over onto his other side to face Jamison, he noticed that the evening shadows had crept across the ceiling. They must've been out for a few hours, no wonder he felt so drowsy. Still, after such a heavily emotional conversation, he'd needed the rest and felt somewhat reenergized.

"You asked me why I said I wanted to get rid of all the stuff in that room?"

Jamison nodded as he looked at him, reaching out and stroking his cheek.

"She surprised me with it when they set up the house for me after I graduated. She said it was so that I'd always have a place I could go to feel good about myself." Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself, dreading crying again. "Now it's just a reminder that none of it mattered and that I wasn't enough to save her," he whispered. "That I'm the reason that my brother is dead."

"Oh, Elli..." Jamison shook his head and cupped his cheek. "You were more than enough. It wasn't about you. There was nothing you could've done to save her because it wasn't your job to do so. Just like it wasn't your choice for your brother to go home with a drunk driver."

"It's easy to say that when you're not the one with a mom who killed herself instead of coming to see you," Elliot muttered.

"I'm sure it is," Jamison agreed. "But I'm not going to let you blame yourself for this. You can't, Elli. It'll rot you away from the inside."

Elliot shut his eyes and exhaled heavily, back on the cusp of tears.

Maybe it was time for a different approach. Getting through to Elliot was going to require time and effort, there was nothing he could say that would instantly change the way he felt.

"No wonder you're so fit," he said, stroking Elliot's cheek. "You're an elite athlete."

"Was," Elliot said, opening his eyes to study Jamison's face. "I'm glad you remember what I look like."

Jamison's brows furrowed together. "Did you really think I'd forget?"

"I dunno. You haven't wanted to look at me since," he mumbled. "I figured that you don't think about it."

"What? Of course I want to." Jamison's cheeks flushed pink, unsure if he should tell Elliot how frequently he thought about it. "And it's burned into my mind, Elliot. I can see you perfectly...and I think about it often."

It was wrong of him to have made that comment, Elliot knew that, and he felt a twinge of guilt butt up against the twinge of hope from hearing that he did want to look at him undressed. While he'd believed it was the case from the way their relationship was progressing, it was still different to hear it directly.

"It's just that I don't want to get sick," he said, losing his nerve to tell him the rest of his story. Another time would be better.

"Jamison," Elliot said softly. "I still want to your story if you're willing to tell it."