Page 34 of Speak in Fever
It's true, but it's also inadequate. The rescue was as much about Rath's jealousy as Percy's discomfort, as much about claiming what he wants as protecting what Percy needs.
"I was handling it," Percy says, but his tone lacks conviction. His thumbs trace small circles against Rath's ribs through his shirt, unconscious movement that suggests comfort with their current position.
"Were you?" Rath turns slightly in Percy's lap so he can see his face, and immediately regrets the decision because now they're close enough that he can count Percy's eyelashes, can notice the way Percy's lips part slightly when their gazes meet.
"I..." Percy starts, then stops, his eyes dropping to Rath's mouth for just a moment before snapping back up. The look is quick but unmistakable, revealing desire that Percy is trying to keep under control. "Thank you. For the rescue."
"You're welcome," Rath breathes, and he so desperately wants to kiss this man. This infuriatingly confusing, devastatingly handsome man who is ruining his life in the best possible way.
Percy's hands are still on his waist, thumbs now tracing deliberate patterns against Rath's ribs through his shirt. The touch is light but intentional, creating points of contact that feel electric and charged with possibility.
"Rath," Percy says again, and his voice is rough with something that might be desire or might be panic or might be both.
The sound of his name in Percy's voice, spoken with that particular tone of need and confusion, sends heat straight through Rath's body. It's the same tone Percy used this morning when Rath's touch had broken through his careful control.
"Percy," Rath breathes, and Percy's name comes out like a prayer, like a question, like the beginning of something that's going to change everything between them.
The name hangs in the air between them, full of possibility and risk in equal measure. Rath can see Percy processing the implications, weighing professional responsibility against personal desire.
"Yeah," Percy says quietly, and now his hands are moving from Rath's waist to cup his face, thumbs tracing along his cheekbones with infinite gentleness. "I know."
The touch is reverent, careful, like Percy is handling something precious that might break if he's not cautious. But there's heat behind the gentleness, intensity that suggests Percy's control is more fragile than it appears.
The kiss, when it comes, is inevitable. Percy closes the distance between them slowly, giving Rath every opportunity to pull away, but Rath meets him halfway with desperate eagerness.
It's nothing like the gentle, tentative first kiss Rath might have imagined. This is hungry and desperate, all pent-up frustration and weeks of denied attraction finally given permission to exist. Percy's mouth is warm and demanding, tasting like beer and possibility and something uniquely him.
When Rath opens for him, the sound Percy makes is low and possessive, vibrating through both their bodies and making Rath's skin feel electric. Percy's tongue slides against his with confident skill, claiming and exploring with the same focus Percy brings to reading defenses during games.
Rath's hands fist in Percy's shirt, pulling him closer, needing more contact, more pressure, more everything. The kiss deepens naturally, becoming more intense as barriers dissolve and carefully maintained distance evaporates.
Percy responds by tangling one hand in Rath's hair while the other grips his hip with enough force to leave marks. The touch is possessive and claiming, and Rath feels in boiling in his blood.
They kiss like they're drowning, like this is the air they need to survive, and Rath has never wanted anything as much as he wants this moment to last forever.
Kissing Percy is unlike kissing anyone else, and when his tongue slides against Rath's in a particularly skillful way, Rath actually moans into his mouth.
The sound seems to break something in Percy, because he pulls back just far enough to look at Rath's face, his pupils dilated and his breathing ragged. The expression in Percy's eyes is intense and complicated—desire mixed with uncertainty, need tempered by awareness of consequences.
"Fuck," Percy breathes, his voice rough with want and confusion. "Rath, we shouldn't—this is—"
But even as he voices objections, Percy's hands remain on Rath's body, thumbs tracing patterns on his hip and jaw that contradict his words. The disconnect between what Percy thinks they should do and what he actually wants is obvious and heartbreaking.
Rath can't keep doing this. He can't exist in this unknowing space where he doesn't understand what Percy wants from him, where every interaction is clouded by uncertainty about intentions and boundaries.
"Please," Rath begs, breathless and desperate.
He wants this so much—wants this man in his life, in his bed, as his captain, as everything.
This crush has rapidly evolved into something he doesn't want to examine too closely, but something that's taking him over all the same.
It's all-encompassing, completely life-changing, and utterly terrifying. "Tell me you want me."
The request is simple but carries enormous weight.
Rath needs to hear it clearly, needs Percy to acknowledge what's happening between them instead of hiding behind professional courtesy and careful distance.
Rath's chest tightens with disappointment and frustration.
He doesn't know what's on his face, what broken expression replaces the desire in his eyes, but Percy reaches up and takes his face in both hands with desperate tenderness.
"Of course I want you," Percy says, the words torn from him like a confession he never intended to make.
Rath can't breathe, can't process the relief and joy and terror that crash through him simultaneously.
Percy's thumbs brush against Rath's cheeks, and his lips are red and kiss-swollen, beautiful and devastating. "That's the problem."
The admission is everything Rath wanted to hear and everything he feared at the same time.
Percy wants him—actually wants him, not just tolerating his attention or wanting physical release.
But Percy also sees that want as a problem, a complication that threatens their professional relationship and team dynamics.
"It's not a problem," Rath assures him, his voice hoarse with emotion and desperation. "Percy. Percy —"
Percy pulls him forward with his grip on his face and kisses him again, silencing objections and arguments with the press of his mouth. This kiss is different from the first—more desperate, more claiming, like Percy has made some internal decision to stop fighting what he wants.
Percy kisses him like he'll disappear if he lets go, and Rath holds on and opens up underneath him and tries not to drown in the feelings that are threatening to overtake him. The connection between them feels electric, charged with months of building tension finally given release.
When they break apart again, both breathing hard and flushed, Rath doesn't give Percy a chance to overthink this. He knows if he lets him, Percy will talk himself out of everything in the face of duty and guilt, and he's not going to make it through the night if that happens.
"Come back to the hotel with me," Rath says, the words direct and unambiguous.
Percy's expression shifts, showing internal conflict. "We have to talk about this."
The response is reasonable but frustrating. Rath understands the need for communication, for establishing boundaries and expectations, but his body is still thrumming with arousal and his mind is spinning with possibility.
Rath leans forward and bites Percy's lip gently, just enough pressure to focus his attention and demonstrate the urgency of Rath's need. "You didn't want to talk about it the last time your hand was on my dick, Captain."
Percy's expression shutters at the reminder, something that looks like guilt flashing across his face. The reference to their morning encounter clearly affects him, bringing up memories and feelings he's been trying to compartmentalize.
Rath immediately regrets the comment, recognizing that pushing Percy with guilt or pressure isn't the foundation for whatever relationship they might build. He softens his approach, leaning in to kiss Percy again with gentle sweetness that offers apology and reassurance.
"Okay," he concedes, because it's important to Percy, and Percy's comfort needs to be important to him too. "We'll talk."