"Because I know it in my bones. You are the only one I desire, the only water that will quench my thirst, the only sun that will warm my skin, the only lips that were made for mine." -Dannika Dark
chapter 36
Jazz thought about the concept of sex for a long time.
He did research.
Research! For sex!
Because he doesn't know what the fuck-- literally fuck-- is going to happen or when or what his God is going to expect but he wants... he wants to love the celestial like that.
The musician just doesn't know how to start that conversation.
He's been wanting to bring it up for a week now, to let his boyfriend know he's ready and that he hasn't had a nightmare or a flashback or the feeling of Keres' hands ghosting over his body for a month now.
He wants to tell Castor how he's the only one Jazz can touch without feeling sick to his stomach or things crawling over his skin-- and that he wants the god to touch him more, too.
And it's just a normal night right now.
A friday, nothing special about it.
They're watching a movie like every other night, already done with dinner and cuddling. It has been like every other day back at their dorm, just at the cabin now. They woke up together, Jazz and Castor went on a run on the beach, got coffee with the D'Silvettas and their bae's, did their everyday things and they laughed and smiled and now they're just here.
Doing what they always do, just on their island.
But for some reason, Jazz just blurts, "I want to have sex with you." without any fucking context or being asked or prompted to do so-- the movie they're watching is about zombies, for crying out loud.
Zombies! That's not even romantic!
He almost wanted to take those words right back, seeing the astonished look on his boyfriend's face, but didn't and ended up rambling instead, "I want to have sex, with you, and I mean, I don't -I haven't wanted to have sex with someone before. You're just, you're just you? And I don't, I can't explain why -you know why. I just thought I should let you know and um... uh... say something?"
"There's not-- bit hot innit!-- pressure, I guess?" Castor seemed at a loss for words. "Fuck, I, I do too but there's--" He growled. "--nothing wrong with wanting that but not having it. It's...normal? But I'll still respect your boundaries."
Oh. He wasn't understanding.
Which would be cute, since the musician is usually the oblivious one, if it wasn't so frustrating.
"Hey, I told you before," Castor said softly, cupping his jaw, lightning-strike eyes nothing but honest. "I'm okay waiting. If this is just because you think I want it, I mean- -bit hot innit- -of course I do, don't think about that. You have to be ready. And comfortable."
"I-I know that, Star." Jazz flushes, leaning in to give him a quick, gentle kiss. "What I'm saying is I want to have sex with you. Um...tonight."
The God blushes right up to his ears.
And, quite honestly, it was kind of funny. Castor was not someone who blushed easy, but this is what made him go all red?
"Tonight?" The musician isn't sure why his boyfriend sounded so surprised. But, then again, this is coming from kinda out of nowhere. "What-- mother ducklings-- changed? You're sure? I don't want to be the reason you do something you'll regret."
"I won't regret it," Jazz says confidently, kissing him briefly again and then seeing that burning green that told him that, whatever was going on in his star's head, wasn't nice thoughts directed towards himself. "Why are you olive?"
"When, if, we have the awesome--" Castor squeaks, shoulders jumping. "--gay sex that I- -bit hot innit- -plan to have with you one day, whether it's tonight or not," He places a gently kiss onto Jazz's collarbone. "I can't stop ticing."
Well... yeah? Jazz knew that. It's not like an off and on switch.
"I know that." He replies, threading his fingers through the celestial's hair. "It's part of you and I don't want to change or ignore that."
"This isn't something I want you to regret, Jitterbug."
"I want to do this with you." He really does. He did research and thought about it and even spoke to a therapist, one of his mom's co-workers, about it to make sure that he wouldn't further fuck up his trauma with this decision. "You ticing doesn't change that." Oh... unless Castor had other reasons? Maybe he wasn't ready? "Is that the only thing not making you say yes?"
"I don't know where you got confused Jasper," Pulling away from his chest, Castor moves one hand up to his jaw, squishing the musician's cheeks together. "But it's already a yes from me. All I want to do is make you comfortable enough to enjoy it."
"You don't think I'll be comfortable with you?" He blinks at the god.
"I'm not--" Castor growled. "--taking any risks. Not with this." Jazz appreciated that a hell of a lot. "Do you really want to do this, have your first time with me? Do you think- -bit hot innit- -that I should be the one that takes your virginity?"
Blushing a deep red, the heat climbing up his throat and seeming to make him go up a good degree or two, he stumbled for an answer before Castor cut him off with a quick kiss.
"Jitterbug, if you can't talk about sex with me then--"
"I can talk about it!" He defended quickly. "You just make me um, really nervous."
"Oh?" Raising an eyebrow, the celestial smirks. "Then tell me what you want. More than just one, three letter word. What do you want from me -need from me? If you can tell me how to pleasure you and respect you at the same time, I'll show you the best thing you can experience when my body's pressed against yours."
"I-I want, I want," Jazz, a slight strain to his voice as his mind briefly flashed to a cold body behind his, a stern hand in his hair and making him face away, a terror of not being able to see that used to be so familiar, coming to the surface. "I want to see your face. I can't... I need to see your face. And I want t-to go slow. Can we go slow?"
Grinning, his star nodded, giving his cheek a chaste kiss. "Of course."
Castor stands up and holds his hand out to the musician, who got slightly confused at the quick change but smiled anyway because he was going to have sex with his amazing, respectful boyfriend and he was going to be able to enjoy it.
"Jitterbug," Castor laughed, head jerking to the side in a tic. "Your first time isn't going to be on a fucking couch."
Jazz could only nod, not letting himself overthink as his boyfriend led him to his bedroom.
For people like Jazz-- people told they're meant to be used and nothing more, people shown that hands against their body hurt and aren't supposed to be kind, that they are nothing more than what someone else molds them into-- being shown that pleasure is a good thing, that their body can be loved, was nothing short of healing.
Castor was told he's nothing more than a body, that his Tourette's and his depression was more than other people could be able to handle.
That was reinforced in his mind, time and time again by bullies and fuckbuddies and strangers.
Both of them, they always had been too much but never enough.
This... this was important.
Jazz took his god's face gently in his hands and kissed him. Brushing his thumbs over Castor's cheeks, then sliding his hands down to the side of his neck so his thumbs slid along the star's jaw. He felt him shudder and kissed him deeper in reply, tilting his head back. His god's fingers unhooked from where they were attached to the loops in his jeans and moved up his neck and to the musician's hair as he pressed closer, lips parting under his in an invitation he was not about to refuse.
The celestial tasted like strawberries and something distinctly himself; it was an addictive taste if Jazz ever had the pleasure of knowing one.
He finally pulled back slowly and more than a little reluctantly, giving into the temptation to suck lightly on the star's criminally plump, soft bottom lip for just an instant before letting it slide from between his lips and opening his eyes.
To his satisfaction, when Castor's lightning-strike gray eyes opened, he was looking up at him with the same kind of dazed that he felt, his mouth so irresistibly reddened that he laid one more gentle kiss on them before nuzzling into his neck.
He went slow, just like he said, and he listened when Jazz told him what he wanted or needed.
Making love together, it created a whole new level between them. There was nothing cold or harsh or heartbreaking about it. It was just them-- just comfort and love and reassurance.
But because he was a traumatised virgin (prior to the last twenty-four hours), Jazz had no idea to gauge if he was good in bed or not, but Castor never complained once and they both enjoyed themselves.... quite immensely and he was happy.
No flashbacks. No feeling antsy or like his skin was crawling.
Just happiness.
It was weird but good-- like somehow, prior to this, some kind of fear was encasing him about all of this, about sex, and it used to shake him to the very core just to think about this,
It was like he got his body back.
Which... which felt nice.
Jazz woke up to a smooth, rich ethereal green surrounding him, a growl filling the air and making him stir. He registered Castor close to him, so he tightened his arms and the celestial and groaned sleepily into his ear, noticing some of the muscles he never had to use before were definitely sore.
Then he realized they were both still naked, their bodies flushed together, and he shot away, not knowing if that was still okay or not, apologizes falling from his lips and then--
And then he was falling too, right off the side of the bed.
He hits the floor with a smack, dazed as he stares up at the ceiling, face feeling too warm for comfort. The sheet that was covering them was trapping both his upper thighs and one arm in its grasp and, honestly, he was okay with that. Not the most embarrassing thing he did in the last sixty seconds.
He knew Castor was watching him right now, his green more than amused as the celestial looked at him-- he didn't dare look back, still slightly sure he's going to combust from mortification.
And he was still naked!
Good lord, he needed to find a hole to crawl into and die.
"Well," Castor's laugh catches his attention and Jazz manages to meet his boyfriend's eye for a second before his entire face fills with a blush. His God was naked too, and still looked rather... delectable. "If you weren't sore before, you definitely are now."
Why didn't the musician expect his boyfriend to tease him?
No fucking clue.
Not knowing what else to say, he asks, "A-are you sore too?"
"Jasper, I don't know if you noticed but you're a big guy." Castor said, a smirk curling those kiss-bruised lips. "So yeah, I'm sore."
He's talking about my dick, Jazz squeaked and slightly hid his face behind large hands.
There's warm laughter from the god-- and then a pillow is smacking into his chest and his ethereal, green voice is breaking through his embarrassment-induced daze, "Want to join me in the shower?"
He remembers all the times that Castor asked him that before, or teased him about it after running, and was startled by realizing he said it in the same tone-- which, well, made him realize it wasn't said jokingly.
"Wait," Jazz pushes himself to stand, still keeping the sheet around his hips, hiding himself from view even though he knows the god already saw and felt all he had to offer. "You were serious about that?"
His boyfriend smirks, "Every single time."
Ah, well...
That's some thoughts right there he's not ready to unpack.
Even what they did last night, no matter how enjoyable and ready he felt, made his body feel too sensitive, too on edge. It wasn't a good feeling, but it wasn't bad enough to mention.
He, prior to this and to the best of his knowledge, was a virgin.
To the best of his knowledge--because there are a good few holes in his memories, blanks for a week at a time, hours that pass and when he came back he was panicked, crying. Moments he'll have nightmares about, but never consider reality.
Sometimes, that'll all you can do to stay sane; pretending something horrible never happened.
Pretending that Keres never touched him there. Touched him without permission.
Castor touching him, it was different. It was a soft, gentle touch. It was always-- always-- with permission, always cautious when he ventured into new territory, not knowing if something could randomly trigger him. Cautious but so full of care.
His god would not hurt him, and he'd always respect his boundaries and listen to his no.
So Jazz ends up nodding, a deep blush on his features as he nods.
A shower with his boyfriend sounds nice.
Grabbing his hand, Castor pulled the musician into him, the god raising up to press a kiss against his jaw, "You're adorable, Jitterbug."
Adorable?
No, sir. No. He is not adorable.
He's more annoying than anything, his boyfriend's just blind to it.
Nodding to himself-- as if that helps his thoughts-- he ignores his very red cheeks and wraps his arms around the god, avoiding looking at him. They... they had sex last night, and Jazz isn't ready to revisit that, and looking at Castor, well, something would happen, that's for sure.
The amount of skin-to-skin contact between their bodies-- naked bodies-- was already getting too much for him.
Getting into the shower, the first thing he noticed was that the water was a lot warmer than what he usually used but he didn't complain-- he knew that the celestial generally ran colder than him-- and just tried to enjoy himself, despite how his heart was pounding in his chest.
After all this time, after everything, he felt like he shouldn't be overwhelmed or anxious by simple touches, or by being touched at all.
But trauma had no time schedule, and it didn't care about how he felt.
It didn't care that he was doing better, that he felt better; that he was healed enough to have sex with his boyfriend without a flashback or anxiety attack crippling him and ruining the moment.
But he cared, and he was grateful that he could enjoy himself like that.
He was grateful that Keres didn't ruin him and the ability to share himself with the god.
Grabbing the shampoo first, he soaks his hair and rubs it in-- laughing when Castor ruffles his hair, making bubbles float through the air and popping against the water.
The god chuckles too, wrapping his arms around the musician's neck.
Lucky. That's the word that comes to mind.
He's so fucking lucky that Castor loves him.
Closing his eyes, Jazz rests his hands on his sides, sharing a soft but short kiss with his boyfriend, "Hey, Star? Thank you."
When his eyes open, Castor is grinning at him-- which looks more like a smirk than anything else-- and raises an eyebrow, "For the orgasms or?"
Oh hell.
Jazz's eyes widen, his face heating.
He didn't expect the god to tease him! It wasn't fair, not really. He was very sensitive right now, feeling like his skin doesn't know how to hold in all the emotions clashing in his chest.
And there Castor goes, making him go warmer than he wanted to be.
It was a good warm, though, and it's not like he wants the star to stop flirting with him.
"For caring about me," He corrects, shaking his head as his fingers fidget with one of Castor's smaller hands.
"You're so silly, I love you, Jasper Red." Not letting the conversation drag on, and turning it light with playfulness, he cups water in his hand, throwing it at Jazz, causing him to scoff "Don't forget it, or there's more water to come."
He starts, "But--"
Water splashing against his face cuts him off, "No-- bit hot innit!-- questioning it! I love you."
That's not even what he was going to question! He just wanted to say it back.
There's more water in Castor's hands and a defiant look on his face, daring Jazz to challenge him about this.
And, fine, since he didn't get the chance to take it back, he'll just have to show the god.
Staring into lighting-strike eyes for a couple seconds, he watches as the celestial's narrow as he grabs both wrists in one hand-- then loops them around his own neck without warning, pinning him between his chest and the shower wall.
Their thighs press together, skin on skin everywhere, slick and soft with water running down both of them. And warm-- so, so warm.
"Hey!" Castor begins to scold, his ears red and it makes Jazz grin. "Jitterbug--"
Interrupting him with a kiss was enough to make him all but forget what he was supposed to be showing the god. It quickly grew to be more than what he originally planned, their lips brushing against each other sensually, their tongues pressed together, the musician's curling around his boyfriend's and earning himself a groan in response.
Hands now on Castor's hips, he lets the celestial switch their positions-- is it bad that, now, he liked being man-handled all the more-- and it results in him sitting on the ledge next to the showers wall, one usually meant to keep different products on and not meant to be used for making out.
But oh well.
Sitting on his lap, Castor was able to get better leverage, kissing Jazz's neck with an open mouth, a wet tongue sliding down his skin and making him shudder, the god biting the top of his shoulder a second later.
He can't help to pull him closer, liking how their bodies feel.
Angling the musician's jaw down to him, the star kisses him until he's sure both of their lips will be bruised. The water against their skin is chilled and makes everything somehow seem more-- more warm, faster, overwhelming.
He likes it, but it's too much.
"Ah," Jazz can't help the small gasps that leaves his mouth, hesitating only a second before saying, "I-I'm overwhelmed."
Without the slightest bit of protest, Castor pulls away and nods, placing a gentle kiss onto the musician's forehead and replies lightly with, "There's still shampoo in your hair."
He's grateful that it's not made to be a big deal.
He doesn't know if his anxiety could handle that.
"Yeah," Jazz grins-- not knowing why he was so happy about something like the bare minimum that he was overwhelmed being respected-- and holds hips again, wanting to help the god off of his lap without the risk of him slipping.
But then he was being headbutted.
"Omph!" He jerked back, hand latching onto his now throbbing forehead.
Does Castor's Tourette's just hate them making out, or something? That's the third time it's happened.
Still kinda funny, though.
Through the pain, he notices that the god climbed off of him, now sitting next to him as he uselessly apologizes, "I swear I didn't- -mother duckling- -mean to do that." Pulling on his wrist, Castor kisses his palm as the musician blinks down at him. "I'm sorry."
"I know," Jazz can't help but to smile and flushes lightly. "Now you just owe me a thousand more kisses."
Castor has no hesitation as he rolls his eyes, "Is that supposed to be a punishment?"
"Hmm..." Is it? Not for him, but for the god... "Yes."
"Wow, then it's definitely working." The sarcasm makes him pout, but his celestial ruffling his hair and making more bubbles burst into the air replaces the expression with a warm grin and laughter.
"Didn't Fly and Scarlette say they were going to come over this morning?" Castor redirects the conversation.
"Yes," Jazz can't help it, he makes a face. He knows there's no reason, but he's still jealous of Fly sometimes. They were close-- they wanted to get that close, but with him? Castor didn't choose to get so close originally. His song gave him away right from the start.
It makes communication easier, the god isn't one who likes to talk about his feelings so when the musician can just know, it makes it a lot more simple, it makes it less anxiety-inducing.
Would Castor still have like him, would he have wanted to be with him if he didn't have that forced connection?
If he, from the start, knew what the god was saying even when he didn't speak a word?
What even was it about him that the celestial liked?
Finishing the shower and ignoring the thoughts coursing through his head, Jazz was still a bit overwhelmed and changed in the room while Castor dressed in the bathroom. As he puts on his shorts and t-shirt, he notices a couple hickies here and there-- red marks scattered around his thighs, too-- but not a lot else.
He... he feels so different.
But he doesn't look all that different.
There's a knock at his door and a shout that sounds like it belongs to an annoying Fly, then the voice of his cousin scolding her boyfriend. Ah, the crazy couple has arrived-- the D'Silvetta's have their true rivals.
Letting them in, the silver-tinsel blonde winks at Jazz before sauntering towards the bedroom, probably to bother the celestial while Scarlette stayed behind.
"So," She gives a wild grin, resting against the kitchen island while he leans back against the farthest counter. "You and Cassie, huh?"
Flushing, he rubs the back of his neck, "That obvious?"
Scar gives a half-shrug, "You look anxious-- kinda like before him, when things were still bad. You avoided touching us, even for a finger boop, and you kinda still look like you have sex hair. Not that hard to put the pieces together, JJ."
"Ah," The heat that was on his cheeks spreads down to his neck. "Castor and I, um, well... y'know it was my first time? I'm just... I'm overwhelmed but it's not bad. He was-- he's very respectful."
It'll always be an anomaly to him how his body can like something so much but his brain can convince him that it's simply wrong.
His body loves itself, it begs to be taken care of, but his brain does not. His body is his to control, but his mind runs away from him sometimes down paths that could have lethal outcomes.
"Oh, I know," She snorts. "Your mom would have his head if he wasn't."
Jazz laughs, relaxing a little, "That's probably true. She can get vicious."
"It's like Uncle Gus," Scar explains. "No one expects either of them to be the ones they have to look out for but damn--" She whistles. "--even if they're getting older now, they're still terrifying."
"Your dads are the least scary but also intimidating because they seem to know everything," The musician comments.
"It's their gay magic," She jokes, and their laughter echoes around the kitchen in dark twists and beautiful colors.
Her song always seemed to blend well with others, but Scarlette has always been someone to soak up any environment she's been in.
"Yo, Little Red!" Fly's silver voice is crashing between them, and Scar hops away from the island and leans into the room, Curiously, Jazz moves closer too. "Check him out."
Check who out?
Check his boyfriend out?
He knows he's hot, and that Flynn is a wackadoo, but why?
Jazz opens the door further, nose wrinkling at the blondie as he questions, "Morning?"
"Dude," Fly laughs, turning towards Castor whose back was to them and jabs his friend. "Did you try to maim him?"
There were marks running down his back-- scratches-- and bruises on his hips, hickies running the length of his chest and some bite marks too that he could see once the god was facing him. His neck had love marks and on the right side there was very clearly a thumb print.
Oh fuck.
Castor was covered in his marks from when they...
Without saying a word, Jazz maintains eye contact as he slowly shuts the door, his heart racing as he stared blankly at the wood.
He made those on the celestial.
It was him that did that.
That was his boyfriend covered in his hickies and scratches and bites.
It was his star that he did that to.
Part of him was worried that he hurt the celestial, but the bigger part of him-- the secretly possessive part, the clingy one-- was overjoyed and proud, actually proud, of what he saw.
Because well, that god was his and he was that god's.