Page 57 of Love Language

On the other hand, Greg couldn’t have been clearer about his needs if he’d made a neon sign.

And maybe that distinction was meaningless anyway. He needed to take care of his boy.

Marco settled the cushion on the floor in between his knees and coaxed Greg onto it.

He moved slowly, like he was underwater. Once his knees were settled, he leaned back into Marco’s leg, pressing his nose into the seam of his jeans.

Chest heaving, he leaned forward, snuffling and grinding until he had his face placed directly into Marco’s crotch.

Marco wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was forlorn and needy, a clear desire for connection, or maybe something sexual to take Greg away from his thoughts.

Greg nuzzled again against his packer. It was a little bit arousing and a little bit uncomfortable since the angle wasn’t right. Watching his boy so desperate for his comfort was a huge turn on, though.

He started stroking Greg’s soft hair, and that seemed to be the right thing to do. Greg started to breathe more deeply, though he didn’t fully lose his stress and agitation. He also didn’t stop nuzzling.

It took Marco a moment to put all the pieces together. Sometimes Doms would have their subs give them blowjobs, or maybe not quite blowjobs, just the opportunity to suck on them as a way to calm down. He had a suspicion that Greg had done this with Richard, and now he wanted the same thing from Marco.

Marco wasn’t quite sure how it worked. To be honest, in the past he’d blown off listening to or thinking about a lot of things that seemed to be more realistic with a biological penis. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do it, and when he’d been doing most of his Dom training, he was so early in his gender transition that thinking about what cis men could do with their dicks had just pissed him off.

Now, though, he wanted to give Greg what he needed. He moved to unzip his pants, hoping he was doing the right thing. He didn’t have the rod to insert into his packer, so it would stay soft. It still looked and felt pretty realistic, though, so hopefully that would help.

Greg nuzzled at his fingers as he opened his fly, so it seemed like they were going in the right direction. He moved toward the front edge of the couch, but Greg didn’t seem to have any desire to move back.

After shifting around entirely too many pieces of fabric, he had his cock out. He grabbed Greg by the hair, lifting his head so that they could see each other.

Don’t suck. Just hold it in your mouth.

Greg eagerly complied, jaw open and relaxed, lips barely closed around his shaft. Marco stroked his hair, trying not to get turned on by the gorgeous sight before him in the face of such tragedy.

Greg’s eyes were red, that scratchy, dry red that he seemed to get when he ought to be crying but couldn’t. Marco wondered if Greg would want to be made to cry again. It seemed to have been good for him last time.

Right now didn’t seem like the time for it, though.

Marco had hoped that this would calm Greg down, but while his body had stilled, his shoulders were still tight, and his focus seemed off.

He shook his head a little, as if uncomfortable. Or frustrated.

Marco’s heart fell when he realized what was probably the problem. He wasn’t hard and he wasn’t going to get hard. Whatever psychological comfort this act offered, he probably couldn’t supply it. Greg probably expected his mouth to be full, maybe uncomfortably full.

He ran his fingers through Greg’s hair again, then gripped it to angle him up. The rough action, as usual, bought Greg a little relaxation.

Should I get the rod? Then I can get hard.

Greg seemed to take a minute to figure out what he was talking about, but then shook his head vehemently, yanking against Marco’s fingers. In context, that was one of their safewords, but since Greg’s hands were free, he assumed this was just an emphatic answer to his question.

What do you need?

Closer. From the positioning of his hands, it looked like he wanted to be closer to Marco.

But what the hell did that mean? Marco would gladly cuddle him in his lap, but Greg had chosen the position on the floor. Sometimes, he felt like they were speaking different languages with Greg’s kink background so different from his own.

Show me, he finally said.

Greg scrabbled at Marco’s jeans, trying to pull them down. He looked a little crazed, trying to get what he needed when Marco couldn’t figure it out.

Marco shifted and eased his jeans down to his ankles. But Greg was still pulling at the band of his underwear, trying to tug them off. Greg’s face was pressed into the crease of his thigh, nuzzling at him as though trying to get, well, closer.

Marco grabbed his wrists, held them for a moment to clarify his point, and then let them go so that they could communicate. What do you need?