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You loved him, you really did.
You loved the way he smoothed his fingers over the back of your hand before entangling them in yours, small flames flickering around your knuckles. You loved the way he touched your face, silently asking for more. You loved how tender his kisses were, placed on your forehead and cheeks and finally your lips. You loved feeling his warm arms slip around your back to pull you closer to him, his face nuzzling against the side of yours in between kissing the side of your face. You loved feeling the musculature of his front and then back under your hands, pulling yourself flush against his broad chest, sighing contentedly.
But when his hands moved down your waist, down to your hips…
You felt a sudden, unpleasant lurch in your stomach.
Maybe he was just moving his hands there. Maybe he wasn’t actually trying to go the route that you feared. You were just jumping to conclusions.
One of his hands brushed against your side and dipped just inside the waist of your pants.
Oh.
You stiffened immediately, the lurching becoming an uncomfortable twist in your guts. Your hands stilled in their return ministrations, fingers curling into claw-like shapes, eyes widening and fixing on an invisible point in front of you. You felt your breathing hitch.
Oh no. It’s happening. Oh no. Oh God no.
Grillby seemed to notice that it wasn’t just a regular pause. He felt the way your body tensed under his hands, but the way you stayed tense and stopped moving entirely told him something was off. He stopped his own motions, lifting his head to look at you and seeing the extent of your reaction.
He had to get your attention.
He placed his hands on your upper arms gently, pushing you away just enough that he could look you in the face. If you were able to look him in the eye, you’d be able to see the concern there. You could hear it creeping into his voice; a deep, questioning rumble.
“(Y/N)...? Are you… okay…?”
You attempted to flash a smile, to try to play off how affected you were, but all that you managed was to press your lips together in a thin line.
Grillby tilted his head, flames dimming and brow creasing in worry. Something wasn’t right. You’d drawn your hands back and held them in front of your chest, balled into loose fists. There was apprehension written all over your face, even though you weren’t looking at him.
Had… he been going too quickly…? Was it too soon? He needed to know. But the only way to know was you telling him.
He tried again, sliding his hands up to rest on your shoulders.
“…(Y/N).”
You managed the quickest of glances at his face. You didn’t even get a long enough look to get a clear picture, but you could see how concerned the man of flame was at your sudden withdrawal. You never liked seeing him in such a state. Especially when it was because of you. It was nice, in a way, to be worried about like that… but at the same time it made you feel guilty.
The circumstances this time made you feel especially guilty.
How were you supposed to tell him…?
The only way you pictured things ending, if you told him, was disappointment and upset and eventual breaking things off. You didn’t want that. You loved him. More than anything. He loved you too, it was clear.
So why couldn’t you make yourself put up with sex for him?
You heard your name again. He was staring at you, waiting for a response.
“...we can… slow down, if you want. If that’s what’s wrong.”
You bitterly huffed to yourself. It should have been at least somewhat reassuring, that he was willing to stop. But all you heard was that he wanted to get intimate, maybe not now but definitely in the future. All you heard was how this was something he wanted, probably needed, in relationships. Something you couldn’t give him.
Grillby’s flames flared briefly in confusion at your scoff.
“It’s… not that…” you mutter quietly.
The flames sputtered slightly in relief that you were finally responding. You felt Grillby’s hands squeeze your shoulders reassuringly, and you saw his frame slouch a bit.
“Then… what?”
You wished you could just spit it out. Oh, if only things were that easy.
He must’ve seen your eyes shifting as you thought to yourself.
“…could you tell me?”
You weren’t sure how much prodding it took on his part to get you to finally try to articulate just what was bouncing around in your head. It felt like an eternity, sitting there with Grillby on the couch, stretches of silence punctuated by your failed attempts to start sentences, Grillby reassuring you to take your time, and the ever-present sound of his flames crackling.
He was so patient.
“I… I need you to know, before I tell you anything else, that I love you more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life.”
You couldn’t help the small smile on your face when Grillby’s flames popped and a blue tinge swept across his face that you could see even without looking directly at him. But the smile was fleeting, because you had more to say, and that was the coming reaction you were afraid of.
“…I… I can’t… have sex.”
The silence felt so heavy.
You cast your gaze down to stare at your lap, feeling a lump threatening to rise in your throat.
“Not just... I don’t want to be sexual, either. I don’t feel like that towards anyone, I never have. I'm okay with other physical affection, but... The very idea of doing those things, makes me…”
You shiver, unable to think of a way to finish the sentence. Makes you sick? Terrifies you? Makes you panic and want to hide away until the threat is gone?
The silence seems heavier and the lump rose in your throat, making you stammer out the next words – if Grillby even hears them in the first place, since the voice you used was small and barely above a whisper.
“I-I just can’t be like that with you.”
An uncomfortable pause.
You felt Grillby’s warm hands lift from your shoulders, and the sudden cold that came with the removal of his touch caused hot tears prickle at your eyes as a heavy, uncomfortable weight settled in your chest. This was it. He was done with you. He’s going to hate you now, he’s going to make you leave, he’s going to find someone else. The thought of him with someone else, especially like that… it turned your stomach even more.
Before you know what’s happening, words started to spill from your mouth, shaking and becoming more bitter the more your own self-hate permeated them.
“All my life I’ve been told that this is what people want in relationships, and if you can’t give it to them then what good are you? What’s the point? Nobody would ever want to be with someone, something like you. It always happens sooner or later. How could you possibly be able to show them how much you love them if you couldn’t do it? How could you possibly hope to keep your relationship alive? How selfish do you have to be to deny them that?! The last thing I want to do is upset you or make you angry, that's why I haven't told you before, but…!”
You’d continue, but now your voice has broken and the tears are flowing freely. You hid your face in shame, curling in on yourself as you try to take deep breaths to prevent yourself from becoming a disgusting, sobbing mess. Words still squeezed their way out of your throat, in a quiet, warbling tone.
“This is just how I am.”
Great, like you needed to repulse him further.
What you weren’t expecting was to feel warm, gentle hands pry your hands away so they could tilt your face up, and the welcome sensation of a gentle heat as he cupped your face. You are unable to look anywhere other than Grillby’s face, and what you see there… you close your eyes before you’re able to register anything, because you’re still sure of a berating coming.
“How could I be upset with you over something like this…?”
You can’t believe the words you are hearing, and your eyes open in disbelief. Grillby was looking intently at you, expression soft. You saw love there, so much love. It flew in the face of everything you’ve been raised to believe how someone would react.
“If that is how you are…? Then it’s how you are. I would never make you do anything that makes you uncomfortable. If you would prefer never to act like that…? Then we don’t have to. Ever.”
You were crying again, fresh tears falling, but for a different reason. You are so relieved, so relieved, that he didn’t just not get angry, but that he accepts how you are. He won’t make you do those things. He won’t make you have sex.
You smiled shakily as his warm fingers brushed your tears away, his fire magic instantly evaporating them.
“I was so sure you’d hate me over this…” you whispered.
Grillby leaned forwards to gently press his lips to yours in a long, tender kiss. When he pulled away to look at you again, you saw a slight sadness in his eyes. You don't like seeing it there. You fought the urge to chase him for another kiss, because he began to talk.
“There’s so much more to being with you than the prospect of sex.”
He starts by saying how it hurts to see how much you are angry with yourself for something that doesn't make you any less worth loving. He tells you about how he loves the way you light up when you’re happy. He loves the way you can ramble on and on about your interests, and how when you bashfully realize how long you’ve been talking, he gets the urge to kiss you over how cute you are. He loves the comfortable moments you share in everyday life, from cooking together to walking home together from the bar to sitting in each other’s presence. He loves how you shyly return his physical affections, but manage to work your way up to being even slightly more confident. Your chaste kisses and touches make him feel so warm inside, and he never wants to stop holding you – but if it never goes any further than that? He will be just as happy. He loves you just the way you are.
You couldn’t help but throw yourself at the man of fire, arms clinging to him as tight as they can, pressing your emotion-twisted face into his shoulder and hoping he doesn’t mind that you were making a large wet spot on his shirt because your eyes won’t stop leaking. It’s a good thing he’s a fire elemental and can dry his clothing instantly with his magic, you think. You also hope the garbled, relieved sounds coming from your throat weren't as embarrassing as they sound.
He returned the embrace, strong arms holding you and hands soothingly rubbing soothing circles into your back. You felt him gently nuzzle into your hair and you try to squeeze him tighter, earning a small, strangled noise and a shy request for you to loosen your grip. The small chuckle you let out felt like a weight being lifted. You snuggled up under his chin and let out a long, trembling, post-crying sigh. You could feel his voice vibrate against you when he spoke again, mingling with the pulses of his core from within his chest.
“Don’t ever feel like you need to change for me, love.”
The silence is comfortable again.