He does say, “Okay,” and hopes that he’ll miraculously have all the answers in the morning.
Chapter Fifteen
When Elliot wakes up, he’s pleasantly warm, sheets still pulled up to his chin, his knee pressed against more warm skin. He blinks, finds Blake next to him, still asleep, breathing slow and even. Elliot sneaks out of bed to go to the bathroom and is almost surprised when he returns and finds Blake exactly where he left him.
Blake has one arm stuck under his pillow, but the other one is between them, fingers splayed on the mattress. Elliot takes a peek at his tattoos, at the waves that splash across Blake’s arm in ink, the fish scales that belong to some kind of sea monster, the leaves of some kind of underwater plant that look like they’re swaying in the waves, a play of dark and light, ink and skin. Elliot wants to touch, trace all the lines with the tip of his finger. He wonders how much it hurt, if Blake needed someone to hold his hand. Elliot’s far too big of a wimp to get a tattoo, wouldn’t know what to get either, but he loves Blake’s and would stare at them for hours if he could.
Blake shifts, mumbles something. His hair is all over the place and a few strands in his face seem to tickle him. He scrunches up his nose, blinks, and wipes them away. “Hmm,” he says.
“Good morning,” Elliot whispers.
Blake squints at him. “Five more minutes.”
“Yeah,” Elliot says. They both have the day off. Coach told them he didn’t want to see their hungover asses anywhere close to their practice rink, so they have all day and Elliot isn’t in a rush to disturb the peace. “Come closer?” he tries.
Blake does, scoots over until he bumps into Elliot and wraps his arm around him, nose smushed into Elliot’s hair.
The weight in the pit of Elliot’s stomach doesn’t seem quite so heavy now. Last night was a mess, right from the start. He didn’t think this through, didn’t think about what it would mean for them if he asked Blake to come home with him. He wanted this and he was selfish enough to ask for it, but Blake had every right to turn him down in the end. Elliot gets it, he wasn’t exactly sober, but he still wants Blake’s hands on him now, wants to kiss him, see his lips wet and red and bitten again, like they were last night.
“When are we talking?” Blake asks. His hand is splayed on Elliot’s stomach, and it could dip a little lower so easily. Blake is barely touching him and it’s already driving him insane.
Elliot wiggles, pushes back against Blake. “Later.”
Blake shifts, nosing along the back of Elliot’s neck, breath tickling his skin. “You sure?”
“So sure,” Elliot says and Blake’s fingers twitch, hitch up his shirt. Elliot doesn’t remember how to breathe. Blake’s hand gently moves across the plane of his stomach, then down, skimming along the waistband of his briefs, down his thigh, everywhere but where Elliot really wants that hand.
Blake presses a kiss to the back of his neck, then his hand comes up again, fingers just so skimming over the fabric of his briefs and Elliot’s hips jerk against his hand. He wishes he wasn’t embarrassed.
The first time they did this together he lasted for about five seconds.
Blake’s teeth graze Elliot’s skin, but it’s gentle, not enough to leave a mark. A brush of lips follows, hands going up now, blunt fingernails brushing over a nipple, and Elliot shivers, then Blake says, “What do you want?”
Elliot wants everything.
He remembers what Blake likes, but it’s been so long and Elliot is too impatient to make a plan, he just wants to touch and touch and touch.
“I…” Another hint of teeth and Elliot completely loses his train of thought. “Blake.”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck.”
“Hmm…” Blake palms him through his briefs. “So?”
Elliot has an answer on the tip of his tongue and forgets it immediately. He didn’t know he’d missed this. The way they were always so easy together, even if things were awkward. He never felt shy around Blake and it’s the same now, it’s familiar, despite all the years in between then and now.
“Lie back,” Elliot says and Blake goes, obediently, and lies down, blue eyes following Elliot as he sits up and pulls off his shirt. He moves to straddle Blake’s hips and bends down to kiss him, morning breath be damned. Blake clearly doesn’t care and kisses him back, stubble scratchy against Elliot’s face. Elliot wants to find out what that might feel like against his thighs. Later.
Elliot looks down at him, thinks of Blake before they were drafted, already tall, but somehow smaller than this. His cheekbones are sharper now and he has a tiny scar at the base of his throat that he didn’t have before. And the tattoos, of course, those are new, still fascinate Elliot, would hold his attention if there weren’t more pressing issues. He glimpses the outline of Connecticut on Blake’s other arm, feathers that probably go with the bird on his upper arm, more waves, and dark, evergreen trees.
Blake is looking back at him, silent, waiting. He was never in a particular hurry, always took his time, except for the first few times, when everything was new, when everything felt urgent.
Elliot leans back down, nose bumping against Blake’s. He stays there for a moment, not quite kissing him yet. He runs his fingers through Blake’s hair and it’s exactly as soft as it looks, trails his knuckles down the side of his face, his thumb across Blake’s lips. Blake smiles and kisses the pad of his thumb, and Elliot knows that they’ve been here before, but he suddenly
