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Rusty nodded, because of course it fucking did. Or not-fucking did. Whatever. “So that means what? You won’t start to like sex eventually?”

“Well, I don’t want it. For myself.”

“Ever?”

“I don’t think so. I jerk off sometimes and that’s okay, but it’s not sex, really.”

“When you’re bossing me around making me jerk off, it feels like sex.”

“That, yes. I like that.” Cross peered at him. “You do too, right?”

“Hell, yeah. Makes me come my brains out.” Rusty’s stomach dropped. “But you don’t want to do it anymore?”

“No! I do! I love being able to make you feel that good.”

“But you don’t want me to do it back to you?”

“No.”

Rusty could’ve left it there. Message received. But this wasn’t some hook-up he’d had a good time with and would never see again. This was Cross. “I don’t get it. If you jerk off, then you know it feels great. Having someone else do it feels even better.”

“To you. For me…” Cross frowned and looked off into space. “I don’t want anyone else touching me there. And coming just isn’t that special. Not worth the trouble, mostly.”

“Uh. Maybe you need to do it with the right person.” He’d hoped to be that person. The guy someone demisexual cared about enough to make sex special.

Cross chewed on his lower lip. “Okay, terrible analogy incoming. For me, orgasm is like, uh, a really good piss. There’s a buildup of need.

I think, ‘Oh, I should do something about that,’ and I do.

It feels good and then it’s over. But you wouldn’t drink a ton of water to get to piss more often.

You don’t want someone to hold your dick while you pee, or to tease you and not let you pee when you need to. ”

“Some people do,” Rusty said, more to be contrary than anything, because he was out of his depth.

“Sure. More power to them. But for most of us, it’s a physical need that feels mildly good and we take care of it ourselves.”

“And that’s sex to you?”

“Something like that. I don’t, like, imagine lips or hands or picture anyone else when I jerk off.”

Not even me? Rusty didn’t ask, couldn’t sound that needy.

“I don’t plan for when I’ll get the chance, or anticipate, or even think about it afterward. I wash my hands and move on.”

“And that’s what you want us to do from now on?” Rusty could do that, he guessed, to be with Cross, but it sounded lonely after the fun they’d had. Except maybe only he’d had fun.

“No!” Cross reached toward him but had to let his hand drop across the stretch of his raised legs. “ Me. That’s what I do.”

“And what about me?”

“I get to make you feel good, with words and my hands, even suck you off, like we’ve been doing. Maybe toys. I’ve been thinking about those.”

“But how is that fair ?” The whine in his own voice made Rusty wince but he felt unsettled.

“I don’t want sex to be one more thing you’re giving me.

” He pushed to his feet. “I bring fuck-all to this relationship but I thought, eventually… Well, I’m not terrible to look at.

Hockey ass, you know? I thought I could at least make you feel good. ”

“You’re gorgeous, not terrible. You do make me feel good. I love kissing you and touching you.”

“And sucking me off? Like, yay, slimy glop in your mouth when you’re not even turned on? So much fun.” He paced to the window and stared out at the lawn.

“ And sucking you off.” Cross sighed loud enough for Rusty to hear. “C’mere? Please?”

Rusty shrugged irritably and didn’t turn. He wasn’t sure he knew what his face was doing, but he didn’t want to show it to Cross.

“I don’t hate sex,” Cross went on after a moment. “Some ace people do. That was one of the things that confused me for so long, that I could appreciate when someone looked hot, even get turned on watching them. That I liked making Willow come, loved doing it with you. I figured I must be demi.”

“And now?”

“Now, I don’t think so. And that’s… fuck, it’s a relief, mostly.

I’m not waiting anymore and wondering when I’ll turn a corner and want sex.

I can quit second-guessing how I feel about you and how much closer we have to be, quit picking the two of us apart.

This is just me. Asexual. Biromantic. Romance is the thing that counts for me. ”

“Mm.” Is this romance? Rusty stared down at his hands, picking at his cuticles.

“Rusty? Can you talk to me?”

Rusty heard the clink of a crutch indicating Cross shifting around, and whirled to stop him getting up. “Keep your damned leg elevated. Wasn’t that where we started from?”

“Then come here.”

Rusty hesitated, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. When he was ready, he went and knelt by Cross’s end of the couch so they were close enough to touch. He didn’t reach out, though.

“Thank you.” Cross didn’t touch him either. “Are we okay? Do you have questions?”

He probably should, but all he could feel was like a rug had been pulled out from under him. What do I have to offer him, once he’s healthy again? He cleared his throat. “Guess I’d better get serious about that massage class, huh?”

“If you like. If I give you a three-minute blow job and you give me a ten-minute massage, I’ll get the better of that deal.”

“I might be crappy at massage.”

“I might be crappy at blowjobs.”

“You’re not, though.”

Cross met his gaze and reached for him. This time, Rusty grabbed his hand. Cross squeezed hard. “I think all that matters is if we’re both happy. We each bring something to the table. Doesn’t have to be the same thing. Hell, in most marriages, it’s not.”

This isn’t a marriage. But Rusty got the point, at least in theory.

Are you happy? He couldn’t ask that. Not when Cross had that groove between his eyebrows that meant he needed pain pills and the echoes of their fight still lingered.

The best he could do was hang onto Cross’s hand as he asked, “So? Maybe we should order pizza?”

Cross laughed, softly and then harder, and then his mouth twisted in something that wasn’t a laugh.

Rusty wasn’t sure why, but those sounds were Cross hurting, and all Rusty knew to do was shuffle closer on his knees and try to hug him.

Cross hugged back, twisted so he could lock his arms around Rusty’s shoulders.

After a minute, he sagged and pulled out of Rusty’s hold. “Sorry, wow. I’m such a fun date.”

Rusty stayed close, his hands brushing Cross’s hips, looking up to catch his gaze. “What was that about? Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I guess…” Cross cleared his throat. “I’ve been so scared to tell you and imagining all the things you might say, and then it wasn’t like any of them.”

“Sorry your imagination-me is better.”

Cross grabbed Rusty’s arm. “He’s not. Really not. I was scared you might say no sex was a deal-breaker and walk out the door.”

If you’re giving me hand jobs and blow jobs, that’s not no sex.

But what mattered right now was that Cross still looked like he needed a hug, and Rusty was right here.

Fuck, maybe he needed one too. He leaned forward and pulled Cross against him.

“Not walking out,” he promised. “You and me are too good not to figure this out. I’m not going anywhere.

” I love you. In that moment, with Cross in his arms, he was hit with that total certainty.

I love this man, and I’m taking every second I can get with him.

Even if he said zero sex forever. I love Cross.

Cross kissed him and Rusty tried to put those words into the kiss.

He wasn’t ready to say them, not first, just in case.

But he could make his man feel it. Cross hugged him back as he deepened the kiss, the strength of those big mostly-upper-body-workouts arms squeezing the breath from Rusty.

That was cool. That was good. Ever since he’d figured out what his dick was for, Rusty had dreamed about a strong guy giving back everything Rusty could deliver.

Maybe his dreams would change a bit in the details, but not in the essence.

“Hell, yeah,” He murmured against Cross’s mouth. “And maybe pineapple and anchovies on the pizza.”

Cross snorted and bit Rusty’s chin.