Gods & Monsters

XXVIII

It ends in snogging, because it always does these days.

Jacob's heart thuds against his ribs as Troye slides delicate hands over his clothes, long fingers catching on hems, and, fuck, Jacob wants. Jacob fucking wants and, normally, Jacob gets.

But, despite the flush of his skin and the tightness in his stomach, he... He can't.

Gently, he pries Troye's curious fingers away from the button of his jeans.

"Hey," he mumbles, very quietly, face hot, as he breaks the kiss.

It's just—it's too complicated right now. He can't have Troye, not in that way, while... While there exists a Timothee and a game and a deal and... Not yet.

Not yet.

The curiosity in Troye's eyes lingers as Jacob sighs, leaning back to lie on Troye's bed. He licks his lips and stares out the window; the moon's very bright. He wonders if it'll snow again.

"Uhm..." Troye begins quietly, hedging.

Jacob licks his lips again. They feel hot and swollen, much like the rest of his body. And brain. And heart. Ugh.

"Is it me, or...?" Troye questions, but it's essentially a whisper.

Immediately, Jacob turns to him, meeting those wide eyes as he brushes a shaky knuckle down the length of his cheek. "No," he says simply, earnestly. "No, it's nothing like that. You just..." His gaze skids, threatens to glue itself to the wall, before he forces it back on Troye. He swallows. "You just matter, is all. Just... It's different with you. Everything means something. You know?"

He's half expecting a frown in response, perhaps a protest, or a pouted round of questions. Maybe even a laugh.

But what he gets in response is a blushing smile, Troye nuzzling into the palm of his hand like the kitten that he is. "That's so romantic," he says, lips moist against Jacob's skin.

He snorts, rolling his eyes, but his cheeks betray him as they heat. "Yeah, I'm a real romancer," he mumbles, but Troye grins as he continues nosing along Jacob's hand, down to his wrist, down along his arm...

"You are," Troye protests, sweet and low. He settles against his side, rests his chin upon Jacob's chest. Big blue eyes blink down at him, eyelashes slow to catch up. His eyebrows are neat and tidy. Pretty kitten.

Silence blankets them, calm and comforting. Jacob stifles a yawn, rubbing absent fingers along Troye's limbs as Troye's eyes drift shut, slowly, slowly, slowly.

"Hey, Jacob?" he mumbles, eyes closed.

"Hm?"

"Would you like to spend Christmas with me and my family? Maybe?"

Jacob's hands pause.

"I mean, if you're not spending it with your family, that is," Troye rushes, words quick and jumbled. "Because, like, it's fine if—"

"No," Jacob rasps, staring at the ceiling. He swallows, lets his fingers continue their gentle slides and wills his heart to steady. "No, I won't be spending it with anyone. So, uh. Yeah. Sure. I'll come. If I'm not, uh, intruding, or whatever."

"You wouldn't be," Troye assures, voice quiet. "It was Sage and mum's idea. And I really want you here. If you want."

"Yeah. Alright." He continues to stare at the ceiling, something light and heavy in his lungs. He pauses. "Thank you."

He feels Troye's nod, feels his hands secure themselves more tightly around him.

"Jacob?" he asks, a few quiet moments later. Troye's voice sounds careful, distant. A little small.