A Boy Called Cin (6 page)

"Self-proclaimed?"

"I found your blog?" Tom admits sheepishly. It wasn't hard to find via Cin's Twitter account, which was following Tom's. "I'm following you on Twitter, too."

"Oh." Cin blinks. "I must have missed that. I keep attracting porn bots, so I have my notifications turned off."

Tom raises an eyebrow.

"I also didn't think you actually ran your own Twitter account. I just wanted to keep an eye on your official positions. I wouldn't be here if I thought you were deliberately part of the problem. You're an outlier. You didn't create the system and you're not actively trying to hold it up. Besides, you're hot. I'm allowed to be a little shallow."

Tom knows he's blushing before he feels it and hates that he can't just switch that off. A twenty-year-old kid shouldn't be making him blush like a teenager every ten seconds, but Cin has a way about him. Effortless attractiveness and confidence that Tom's never really mastered. He can fake it for a news camera, but Cin seems to genuinely experience it as a natural part of himself.

"I bet you're tired. I'll show you your room and you can take a nap while I bring your stuff in, if you want?"

"I'd definitely like to see my room." Cin's eyes sparkle, and he follows Tom eagerly up onto the porch, pausing to play with the creaking step for a moment before continuing into the house. The inside is fully fitted out, perfectly livable; it's just some cosmetic stuff on the outside that needs seeing to. Tom's reward to himself for good behavior is being allowed to do his own maintenance on his own home.

Cin looks around at his room with wide eyes that make Tom's heart thud in his chest. It's just a clean room: not overly furnished, but the bed and the view of the trees outside are both nice and Cin actually seems impressed for once. Tom tries to stay in the doorway to make it clear that this is Cin's space and he won't encroach on it, but Cin drags him inside with more force than he should be capable of for his size.

Before Tom really knows what's happening, he's sitting on the edge of the bed with Cin straddling his lap. Cin kisses him, like he always does, and Tom responds cautiously, still afraid that he's doing all of this wrong. Especially because he's about to have to explain to Cin that he's really not sure he can deal with having a dick today, either.

"I don't like being vaginally penetrated," Cin says, as though he's read Tom's thoughts. Maybe he's just picking up on the nervous tension that's winding him so tight that he might snap. "Sometimes I can deal with it, but it's like playing the dysphoria lottery, so I avoid it and I'm gonna ask you right now not to ask me for it."

Tom nods, too eager, but desperate to make it clear to Cin that he'd never do anything to hurt him. "Of course. Totally off the table."

Cin pecks him on the lips. Tom's starting to recognize it for the habit or ritual it is: the second, quick kiss that comes after the all-consuming one. It's nice. It stops him from feeling like all the affection has just stopped dead.

"Has anyone ever tried getting you off without touching your penis?"

The clinical distance should be weird, but Tom's grateful for it. It's just an attached part that way, rather than a defining feature. He files the revelation away for closer examination some other time, and shakes his head. The idea is entirely new to him and he's not sure how that would go.

Cin's gentle smile turns into a wicked grin. "Can I try it?"

Nervousness tightens Tom's stomach. "Is it gonna hurt?" He feels stupid asking; he's a grown man and he can deal with a little pain, and Cin is offering him something huge here. A way to take the discomfort and embarrassment out of sex is something he's been looking for half his life.

"It is absolutely not going to hurt unless I fuck up astronomically. I just wanna try eating you out."

Tom raises an eyebrow and gets as far as opening his mouth to ask what the hell Cin means when a mental image hits him, half-remembered from uninspiring porn, and he blushes darkly. "Oh."

"I won't be horribly offended if you say no. It's not everyone's thing."

"No, uh. I mean, yeah? I'd be okay with trying it, if that's something you wanna do."

Cin lights up like Tom's just announced that it's actually Christmas morning. "If I can assume you have reasonable personal hygiene practices, I'd like you on your hands and knees."

Tom kicks his shoes off and climbs onto the bed, because that's not the kind of request he's about to argue with. The mattress dips behind him as Cin follows.

"This is a nice view. You should do your next magazine spread like this."

"God no. I try hard enough to avoid looking at my ass in a mirror. I really don't wanna see it all over newsstands."

Cin's hands slide under his T-shirt without warning, artist's callouses catching on the smooth skin of Tom's stomach as he trails his fingers down to the button of Tom's jeans. Cin's fingers are careful as he pulls Tom's pants and underwear down, tugging and pushing as though his dick isn't there at all.

There's a part of Tom that wishes he could see this, but it's probably better that he can't. As torn between embarrassment and excitement as he is, he'd only be even tenser if he was watching.

"Oh, Jesus." Tom tries to wriggle away from Cin's tongue at first, the shock of the completely foreign sensation making him panic for a second. Cin laughs behind him and strokes the exposed part of his thigh.

"Funny, I would've thought you'd be used to people licking your ass."

"
Hilarious
." Tom takes a deep breath. Relaxes. It wasn't bad, just weird, and he wants to find out how good it can be. "Okay. I'm ready now."

This time, Cin spreads Tom's cheeks with his thumbs before he dives in again. Once Tom lets himself actually feel it, once he sinks into the sensation instead of worrying about the mechanics, his knees go weak under him and he has to hold himself up by locking his shoulders.

Cin's mouth on him like this is so much better than he'd been expecting. Tom's fingers are already digging into the sheets, breath coming fast, cheeks flushed, and he imagines himself red and sweating and so very unattractive right now, but Cin doesn't stop. Doesn't say anything. All he does is make soft, little hums as he tries a new speed, new technique, new part of his tongue—flat, tip, stiff, soft, fast, slow, totally at random—and Tom can feel it when he's about to come, still mostly dressed with his pants caught around his thighs and without anyone touching his dick.

It's that thought more than anything that tips Tom over the edge. One moment, he's thinking about Cin's mouth on him, about their position and about how clearly in charge of all this Cin is, but also how he's all give and no take, how he's
putting his mouth on Tom's ass
, like it's nothing, and making sounds like he's enjoying it. The next, he's coming all over his belly, sounds he didn't know he could make tearing out of his throat.

He's so wrung out by it that the next thing Tom knows, he's sobbing into a pillow, shaking and curling up on himself like something's broken inside him. Maybe it has. It's more like a dam bursting than a fan belt snapping, though. A release of pressure that's been a long time coming. Part of the natural order of things.

Cin rubs his back while he cries and Tom wonders how the hell you demonstrate your gratitude to someone who got you off so hard it made you cry. There's more to it than that, and Tom knows it, and he thinks maybe Cin knows it, too. Maybe this is a discovery Cin made a long time ago.

There are a whole lot of maybes around this, and they probably warrant further soul-searching, but Tom just wants to sleep.

"I should go to my own room instead of crashing in yours," he mumbles into the pillow without making any attempt to move. He's not certain his legs would support him.

"Consider this blanket permission to crash in my room any time I make you come your brains out." Cin reaches out and wipes a stray tear from his cheek. Tom has to bite his lip to stop himself from blurting out that he loves him, because it's almost certainly the sex talking and he's not the kind of person who says things like that when they aren't true.

He falls asleep with Cin stroking his hair.

"Did you not sleep before I got here?" Cin offers Tom a slice of the peanut butter toast he's just made for himself. It's an extremely generous gesture and he hopes Tom appreciates it as such. Whether or not he does, Tom takes it from him and plops down on the stool on the other side of the counter, hair sticking up in every direction. He's cute when he's just woken up, but Cin's not sure he'd appreciate that observation as much as the toast.

"Couldn't. Nervous." Tom takes a bite of his toast and makes a happy noise. He slept for a solid ten hours. Cin got bored after a couple and started exploring the house. So far, he's discovered that everything is ridiculously new and shiny, accidentally napped on one of the couches in the living room, and eaten half of Tom's groceries. Not that there were many to begin with.

"Over little old me? I'm flattered." Cin chews on his own toast happily.

"Would it be awkward to thank you for sex?" Tom asks between mouthfuls.

"It would be the least you could do, since you didn't bother to get me off." Cin isn't actually mad about it, but Tom is so easy to get that it's hard to resist teasing him.

Tom blushes darkly and squirms on his stool. "I'm really sorry. You just kinda knocked me out." He looks up sheepishly, sees that Cin doesn't look at all serious, and lets his mouth fall open. "Asshole."

"I remember you telling me that my being an asshole was a turn-on. I'm really just trying to get you into bed again."

"I'm trying to be sincere here. What you did for me… that was huge. I don't mean the actual physical thing, although that was pretty huge, too. I just… I've never felt that comfortable during sex and now would be a good time to ask me for stuff because I'm inclined to give you anything you want."

Cin licks toast crumbs away from his lips. "Waffles."

Tom blinks at him, and then apparently catches on. "You want waffles? That's the thing you want for literally changing my life?"

"Toaster waffles will be fine." Cin sips the coffee he made ten minutes ago, but forgot to start drinking. "Whenever you next go shopping."

"You are
so
bad at having a Sugar Daddy!" Tom's obviously still not really awake, because Cin's pretty sure he wouldn't refer to himself as a
Sugar Daddy
on purpose.

Cin eats the rest of his toast while he gives Tom a little time to get his brain back online.

"I don't want to be rewarded for extracting enthusiastic consent from you. The fact that a lot of people haven't taken what
you
want into account isn't a reflection on me."

Tom nods slowly and goes quiet, chewing on his share of the toast for a long minute before swallowing it and looking up at Cin. "I have been so uncomfortable for so long without knowing how to fix it. I tried ignoring it, pretending it wasn't there, and then when that didn't work, I just tried hiding it. And then you came along and gave me a word for what I was feeling and took me seriously, and I don't deserve any of it, because I've done absolutely nothing for you except annoy you."

"You're also saving me a fortune in rent over the summer." Cin rests his elbows on the bench and leans in toward Tom. "This relationship is not about commodity trading. It doesn't need to be an equivalent exchange on paper, and you're not tricking me out of anything. You're certainly not required to repay me for a base level of compassion and understanding that should exist in everyone in the world."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't. You're special." Tom shrugs. "So can we have another really quick, really frank conversation about sex stuff?"

"I hope so."

Tom blushes again. He's really pretty when he does that, which Cin isn't about to tell him, but enjoys nonetheless.

"Have you ever tried, umm." Tom looks around as though he's afraid someone's going to hear him. "Anal?" he whispers.

Cin has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from laughing. He doesn't want to insult Tom, but the man is twice his age and still apparently afraid of buttholes. It's funny, but in the most tragic possible way.

He clears his throat and sips his coffee to hide the smile he can't help before even attempting to answer. "I have. It's great. You're welcome to try putting things in my butt any time you like."

"I was actually thinking, uh, of you, maybe, umm. Putting things in my butt?" Tom practically squeaks the last few words. This time, Cin doesn't want to laugh so much as he wants to take Tom up on that suggestion.

"I own a strap-on." He licks his lips slowly. Based on their earlier encounter, it's easy to imagine Tom coming undone under him; a slow, thorough fucking leaving him breathless, panting, maybe even in tears again. Not that Cin would normally want to make people cry when he was fucking them, but Tom had been crying for all the right reasons and he wanted to give him more of those. "I do have a question, though."

"Go for it."

"You've dated a fair few men openly…"

Tom's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Never lasted long. And my blowjob technique is first class." His smile changes into something less heartbreaking once he's said it. Cin figures he's proud of that, if not comfortable with the reminder of all the less-than-pleasant sex he's had over the years.

It occurs to Cin that there are probably people out there who never figure out that it doesn't have to be the way they were taught, that anything goes as long as it makes you happy and doesn't hurt anyone, and his heart breaks a little more for them. If not for being a weird loner who spent most of his time on the internet,
he
never would have known. There are a lot of things he owes the internet for.

"Not surprising, with a mouth like yours." He reaches out and traces a finger over Tom's lips. They curve into a smile that makes Cin forget all about being heartbroken over Tom's past. "We should go pretend to watch a movie while we make out on the couch."

"I'm not gonna argue with that." Tom beams.