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A soft touch on your arm. A shift in weight on the bed. As you faded into consciousness, you heard the blankets rustle. Your eyes fluttered open.
He was looking down at you, propped up, resting his head on his hand. You blinked a few times and he came into focus. He was so beautiful. They were so beautiful.
“Hi,” you whispered, smiling softly.
The time on the clock behind him showed 4:03, its dim red light was all that lit the room, besides the moonlight that slipped through the gaps in the curtains.
It was normal for Marc and Steven to have trouble sleeping, but they didn’t usually wake you. You were glad they did this time, though. You wanted to be there for them in every way, in every high and low and twist and turn that life threw at them, and for you, that included staying up with them when the horrors in their head wouldn’t allow them to sleep.
You studied his face for a moment, trying to determine who was fronting. You liked to tell yourself that you could know if you were with Marc or Steven before they even spoke. You never told either of them that it was a skill you were attempting to acquire, partially because you didn’t want them to help you. It was like you were trying to prove to yourself that you loved them enough . That you were good enough for your two gorgeous, intelligent, loving boyfriends.
The way he was looking at you now was unfamiliar. He was stone faced, his jaw clenched, and there was a look in his eyes that seemed part conflicted, and part hungry .
“Hi.” He finally responded, matching your hushed tone.
There was something different about his voice.
He fixed his gaze on where his hand rested gently on your arm, running his thumb back and forth across your skin. It bothered you how you still couldn’t read his face.
“Are you doing okay, my love?” you asked, still trying to fight the sleepiness that clung to you.
He didn’t respond. He just shut his eyes so tightly that his eyebrows scrunched together, and shook his head ever so slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a deep breath.
You hadn’t even known them for two years, but you knew this wasn’t like them. They were never this indirect. Even when they were struggling, they would usually try to communicate something, so you wouldn’t worry.
“Hey,” you said, reaching out and smoothing your fingers over the creases in his forehead, “Whatever’s going on, you can tell me.”
You felt him lean into your touch, and the tension left his face. He muttered something under his breath.
When he opened his eyes again, he was still avoiding looking at your face.
“You’re so good for them, querida,” he said, sounding almost pained.
He spoke quietly and his voice was still groggy from sleep. There was an accent to his voice you had never heard before.
A chill ran up your spine as the realization washed over you suddenly: this wasn’t either of the two men that you knew.
You held your breath, and you tried to push back the questions that were already beginning to flood your mind. You wondered if it was wrong that you felt afraid.
His fingers had never stopped affectionately brushing along your arm. His eyes finally met yours.
“I can see you, sometimes.” He said it with so much tenderness in his voice, for a split-second you thought that this had to be one of your lovers. A stranger wouldn’t talk to you like that .
His hand stopped moving. Your arm was warm beneath his touch. A feeling was spreading across your skin from the contact. Not just warmth. Suspense, perhaps.
He hummed and narrowed his eyes for a moment, like he was searching for the words.
“Sometimes when Marc or Stephen are here, I’m here too.” He explained.
He looked at you, searching your expression for meaning.
You nodded.
“My name is Jake.”
“Hello Jake,” you replied, trying to mask the hesitation in your voice.
The way he looked at you, and the way his voice vibrated through your chest had begun to push any fear out of your mind. You told yourself you had to remain on alert. But his eyes-
His gaze slowly swept over your body as he resumed drawing patterns on your skin. Without permission, your body was relaxing under his touch.
He laid his head back on the pillow to be level with you. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing on this planet. If he was dangerous, surely he wouldn’t look at you like that, right?
“I feel like I’ve gotten to know you, Y/N” He said, his hand traveling down your arm to loosely hold yours.
“See, it’s my job to protect them,” he said, “but you - you take care of them in so many ways that I can’t. Thank you for that, querida.”
He brought your hand up and kissed your knuckles. The warmth had now spread across your entire body, and bloomed from your chest. You had to fight the way that everything about Jake and everything he was making you feel made you want to cling to him - to cling to the body you knew and loved so well.
“Do they know about you?” you asked.
“No,” he said flatly, “it’s safer that way.”
You realized your hand he had been holding was now toying with the hem of his shirt.
If Jake was Marc and Steven’s protector, and cared so much about them, you felt like you could trust him. That you didn’t have to be afraid. But still, you dared not ask why he was here. The question seemed to be implied.
“I’ve never thought of myself as a selfish man, querida. It- it would probably be safest if I just let you keep thinking I was one of them whenever I’m around.”
The way his eyes bored into you like you were something to devour sent tingles down your spine.
“But I want to get to know you as myself.” He went on, and brushed a strand of hair away from your eyes. “And I want you to get to know me.”
You took in a shaky breath. You could feel the slick gathering between your legs.
“Would you like that, mi amor?”
He had you frozen. You could feel your heartbeat becoming faster and you trembled with every breath. All you could do was nod your head yes.
“What do you want to know?” you managed to say, voice hardly above a whisper.
His hand had never left your hair, and was fingering through it like you were already someone adored.
“I want to know what’s going through your head all those times we find you staring off into space.”
He leaned forward ever so slowly, then pressed a kiss to your forehead. You made no effort to push him away.
“I want to know everything that makes you happy, and spend every moment making you smile. Hearing you laugh.”
You closed your eyes as he pressed a kiss to one of your eyelids, then the other.
“I want to know how to read you - I want to know what you’re feeling from just a look.”
He trailed light kisses down from your temple to your jaw, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as he spoke. Excitement and desire thrummed through your body, and the only thing you could think about now was closing any remaining distance between the two of you.
His hand had moved from your hair to the small of your back. He didn’t pull you any closer to him but just the light pressure there was so coaxing, making you want to draw yourself farther in, to bring your whole body against his where you already knew you fit like puzzle pieces.
“I want to know what makes you make the prettiest sounds.”
His lips brushed against the corner of your mouth as he spoke. He was impossibly close, but not close enough. Your heart was beating so fast, you thought it might burst out of your chest. Your fists clenched around the fabric of his shirt just to ground you to something.
“I want to know what makes you scream .”
Any remaining resolve you had came crashing down, and you collided your lips with his. He kissed you hungrily. Possessively. He kissed you with so much need. Your hands found their way to his hair and you gripped him closer, moaning against his mouth, your body relieved to finally be entwined with his, where it belonged.