Page 40 of Wrestling with Daddy

“Don’t worry,” Ken was quick to interrupt his nervous tirade, thankfully, one hand resting casually over his knee. “Water works great.”

“Okay!”

Nathan all but scampered to the kitchen. He didn’t think he covered his hurry to get away too well, either.

If only grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge took longer.

“Before we talk…” Nathan had to at least attempt to take the reins of the conversation before he was even considering sitting down again. “Can I apologize?”

“Apologize for what?” Ken frowned, looking like he was genuinely confused, trying to figure him out.

Nathan would’ve loved it if he’d come up with any kind of explanation that made sense. “Well, I really liked kissing you, both times, and I want to keep doing it, but I don’t know if you’re there, because I don’t know how to read you, and regardless, kissing you like that was shitty. So, there.”

For a few seconds, Ken didn’t answer, didn’t react.

It was only after Nathan started to wonder how much longer he could hold his breath before turning blue that the man patted the spot on the couch next to his.

Nathan resigned himself to follow the silent order, placing the two bottles of water on the low coffee table he’d hauled from a backyard sale back in the day.

Something definitely broke in him when Ken grabbed one of the blankets and draped it over him. His body let out an embarrassing shiver, as if he couldn’t handle someone being nice or attentive.

He had it bad for Ken, dammit.

It would just be nice to know if the feeling—lust or whatever—was reciprocated.

“Better?”

Nathan nodded. He hadn’t wanted it, but strangely, the caring gesture and the weight of the blanket—one of his favorites, too—did help break through the spiral he’d started to drive himself into.

“Look at me,” Ken commanded next, a hand on his chin helping to guide him.

Nathan swallowed, his throat dry. Drier when he realized what Ken was doing, leaning forward until there was no distance between them, the tip of his nose tickling him before their lips were pressing against each other again.

Ken didn’t relent in his exploration, his… claim, pushing him down and maneuvering him until he was practically lying down on the couch, his limbs turned to jelly under the pressure and the heat of another body crowding them.

“There’s something about you.” Ken released a puff of air, his voice low but not so low Nathan couldn’t hear. “Some fucking thing about you that has all my senses tripping to have a taste of you.”

That was definitely not what he’d been expecting to hear. “Why don’t you, then?”

“Because I’m trying to be responsible.” Ken’s chuckle sounded slightly depreciative right then. A part of Nathan wondered how he managed all the inflections in his voice when the kisses and the position were making it so hard for Nathan to even think straight. “Because you’re a kind of trouble I haven’t figured out yet, and I need to do that before I take any risks. Before either of us does.”

“That sounds…” Frustrating. Annoying. Nothing his dick would agree with at that moment. “Sensible.”

Nathan could play nice, even if every fiber of his being was calling bullshit to Ken’s words.

“Good,” Ken praised, unaware of Nathan’s inner monologue, where he was being everything but good. “How about you start by telling me what you want from me, then?”

“Huh?”

That was not the right answer, even if it had come from the heart because Nathan definitely couldn’t think right and it was taking a bit for words to process.

With a frown—and maybe a pout—he watched Ken lean backward until he was sitting again, all of that faint heat abandoning him.

At least this time Nathan didn’t shiver.

“I know very little about your expectations, wants, needs.” At least Ken didn’t sound impatient as he said the words. “Got to correct that, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”