Freedom in Falling Page 15

  "Finally." West had the ridiculous urge to laugh as he scrambled over onto his stomach.

  Noah dragged his hips up. He spread West wide, nudging his knees farther apart. "This ass. Gorgeous."

  Noah worked his ass and his cock with both hands, massaging and stroking, lubed fingers stretching him until West was straining and moaning helplessly. His back arched as he tried to move against the fingers in him. The angle dragged his nipples against the sheets and made him moan even harder. He would be feeling that for hours.

  "I'm going to get you back for that."

  "I'd like to see you try."

  Noah pushed into him and West forgot whatever else he'd meant to say. The cry he let out could have rattled windows and shattered glass. Noah echoed it. Completed it. A husky counterpoint to every sound that West made as they moved together. Faster. Harder. Chasing that edge of pain and pleasure. There couldn't be anything better than this.

  He came apart like that. With Noah's hands pulling pleasure out of him like a ribbon, mouth against his ear, murmuring his need like a confession. Everything else disappeared.

  WEST ACHED. ALL OF it was in a good way. The sweat cooling on his skin raised goosebumps in its wake.

  Noah stretched, a groan dragged out of him, as he rolled onto his side and started kissing and nibbling his way along West's shoulder. "Shit, sweetheart. I needed that." His sigh blew over every spot he'd just kissed. "I needed that so much. But I think I'm dead now."

  "You can't be dead if you're still talking."

  Noah paused in his progress around West's collarbone to laugh. Then he wrapped an arm around him and pulled them flush against each other. His dick fit neatly against West too now that it was soft. For the moment. West was tempted to reach back and stroke a little life into it. He didn't.

  His eyes fell on Noah's arm embracing him. A ray of the sun tattoo on his wrist peeked out from between them. He'd seen it before. The tattoo was small, barely more than an inch across, a stylized sun whose rays were unbroken by even a wisp of cloud. West rolled onto his back and lifted Noah's arm to inspect it. "What's this tattoo for?"

  Noah followed his gaze. "It's a sun."

  "I knew that," West said dryly. He ran a thumb down the lines of ink.

  "Are you trying to unlock my tragic back story, sweetheart? Is that what this is?"

  "I don't know what that means."

  Noah sighed. He held up his arm, flexing his fist so the sun on his wrist stretched taut. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "The sun always rises. That's what it's for. No matter what happens, the sun is always there tomorrow and I can try again." He stared at the tattoo another minute before he dropped his arm heavily back to the bed. "They're not all that deep though, in case you were wondering. I have a gold star on my ass because I was drunk and it was funny at the time."

  "You should have put the gold star here instead," West muttered, one hand brushing over Noah's dick.

  Noah blinked. "Did you just... make a dirty joke?"

  "No."

  "You definitely did."

  "Shut up," West laughed.

  "Was that your first dirty joke? Aww my baby's all grown up." Noah clung to him, attacking his neck with kisses. "I'm so proud. We should celebrate."

  West pushed at him, but it wasn't long before he was kissing Noah back in between the laughter, happy in a way he hadn't been in years. Maybe ever. He felt like a dam that had finally cracked and broken, spilling over with contentment. There wasn't the need to rush somewhere like there was in the studio. No worries about what came after. And when Noah rolled West beneath him, he went, still laughing.

  NOAH'S STOMACH GROWLED, loud in the silence that came after a frankly breathtaking blowjob. He'd really outdone himself that time, if he was being honest. West's moans had reached a fever pitch. His muscles clenching so tight that Noah had been prepared to die, strangled between those thighs. If he had to go, that's how he wanted it to happen. Doing what he loved.

  But they made it through all right. West had come and eventually Noah had remembered how to breathe.

  Then his stomach had ruined it by growling like an angry bear.

  "We should get up," West said. Blearily. His arm lifted and then fell back down on the pillow beside him.

  "Shhhh. You didn't hear anything." Noah pulled him closer so he couldn't get away, wrapping him in a hug that pinned his arms to his sides when he began to struggle. It worked like magic. West sagged back into him almost immediately and Noah tucked his head into his neck so he could enjoy the scent of him, hot and sweaty and well fucked. He made a mental note to suggest rope the next time. The only thing better than a struggling West was a struggling and restrained West.

  His traitorous stomach made another discontented gurgle. He hadn't eaten since brunch earlier and they'd probably burned off the last of that hours ago.

  "You're hungry. You should eat. I don't know what time it is but it must be close to dinner by now." West pointed towards the darkening window with one still pinned arm.

  "Or, counter offer, how about you roll over and let me eat your ass instead? Then we'll both be happy."

  "Stop joking."

  "I'm not joking." He nipped at West's neck, making another mark beside the ones he'd already left.

  West groaned and turned into his kiss. Then he shoved Noah backward so hard he almost fell off the bed. West was up, looking triumphant, before he'd recovered. Somehow, he'd already found his pants and was stepping into them. Goodbye, beautiful ass. "Oh look at that, you're up."

  "That's cheating." Noah grumbled as he sat up, watching the reverse strip tease as West hunted down the rest of his clothes.

  "You need to get up and eat. I'm hungry too. Get dressed."

  Noah stayed where he was as West padded out of the room. "Get back in here."

  He lasted a minute before he followed.

  West hadn't gone far. He leaned against the wall in the hall with his arms folded over his chest. He darted a look down Noah's body. It never stopped being adorable how shy he got once the clothes went back on. West during sex and West any other time were like two completely different people. But shit he liked them both.

  "You're not dressed."

  Noah mimicked his stance. "Nope."

  West peeked one more time before he turned away. "Show me your apartment. I didn't get to see it the first time."

  "There isn't much to it. You've seen the bedroom, by far the best feature I have to offer, bathroom is over there, but you already know that—" he pointed at the partially open door as he passed, stepping around West to take the lead "—and here we have the combination living room/office/kitchen." He spread his arms to take in the whole room, the cheap black laminate desk bisecting the living space backed by the shelves holding his books and the TV (also handed down from Liam). Then he arranged himself in repose on the couch and patted the cushions. "Come here."

  "You just want me to go over there so you can distract me," West said. He'd stopped beside the desk, one hand resting on the back of the chair like he intended to sit.

  "Yep."

  West barely glanced at him before he moved over to the wall of photos that spread between the two narrow windows. "Are these all yours?"

  "Older work but yes. Anything I don't sell gets popped out of a frame and replaced or it goes on the wall. It's easier than storing a hundred frames for a rainy day."

  The walls were his cast-off gallery, the ones he loved even when no one else did. A few of them went all the way back to high school when he'd lived off grainy filters and shots taken with his phone on the way to class.

  "They're good." West had paused before a photo hung low on the left. Noah knew which one it was without even getting closer. He'd caught Liam unawares one day while they were out by the lake. In the sun, Liam's curls became a labyrinth of textures and Noah had joked that the frown line between his eyebrows made him look like a tortured Byronic genius. "Who's that?"

  "My brother, Liam. You would know him better as t
he asshole who smacked me in the head the day you and I met. You would like him. You can talk books and complain about me. You probably have similar grievances."

  West frowned at him.

  "What?"

  "Why do you do that?"

  Noah raised his eyebrows, finally relenting and sitting up. "What exactly?"

  "You talk about yourself like you're a nuisance."

  He laughed once but it felt like sandpaper. "Sweetheart, I am a nuisance. You hated me when we first met. And it's fine, I'm fine with it. I was an asshole. Hell, I'm a bigger nuisance to myself than anyone. And it drives me crazy that I can't just..." He sighed. Now that he'd remembered it, the feeling crashed into him again in waves. Just like earlier. "I went out with my family this morning, my brothers—I've got two by the way—and Eli's fiancée and she's this delicate flower petal of a person. Sweet. And she smiles. She smiles so much. I don't even know why she was so happy to see me. And all I could think the entire time we were sitting there was that one day this sweet person might be disappointed in me too. She might loathe the sight of me. I barely know her, but I would be devastated. Because that's what happens. That's what always happens. I fuck things up."

  He held up his wrist, tattoo out so that West could see it as he waved it around. "So I got this, like I said. Because maybe someday that won't happen. Maybe someday I'll manage not to fuck up the things I want."

  West hadn't spoken, hadn't said anything or moved a muscle, and all of a sudden Noah couldn't see as the tension drove a knife through his skull. It happened so fast that he gasped, head dropping into shaking hands, as he tried to rub away the pain. "Ah, fuck." Swearing didn't help but he did it again anyway. His voice was fuzzy in his ears as he rocked in place.

  That whole big speech and he'd only served to prove himself right. West would see him on the couch naked and shaking and he would leave too. Everything ruined again. He should have stayed in bed.

  He pressed harder at his temples, trying to rub away the electric twitch boring its way beneath his skin.

  Fuck.

  Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

  He dragged in a breath of too thin air and let it slither back out again. It didn't help but it was a start.

  A hand touched his shoulder. He flinched before he realized it was West. Looking concerned. Fuck.

  "Are you...?"

  Noah dropped his head and closed his eyes so he could sort his heartbeat and his breath back into order. He pointed towards his desk. "Over there. The blue ball thing. I need it. Please."

  He relaxed once it was placed in his hand, kneading it while he breathed in one lungful of air after another. His head hurt like a bitch.

  The couch cushion depressed as West perched beside him.

  "I'm fine," Noah said. Still kneading and breathing. Kneading and breathing. He liked it better when he could throw the ball at the wall but that was better done when he was alone. People got twitchy when you threw things around them. He couldn't blame them.

  "You don't look fine."

  "I'm used to it. It's handled." He held up the ball clutched in his hand, fingers still digging deep into the surface as he squeezed. "I have my magical blue ball and I'm doing my deep breathing. Everything is peachy. Or will be once this fucking headache goes away. Anxiety can kiss my ass."

  "Do you need anything else?"

  Noah chanced a look. West was still there. Still looking concerned but not running for the hills. Ah, fuck it. "Can I put my head in your lap?" He didn't have to work for the poor sad waif tone.

  West scooted further onto the cushion to allow room. Noah dropped like a rock.

  "You're not a nuisance," West said in a low voice.

  "I know that. Wait. Correction: I'm trying to know that. But it's not that easy sometimes." He kept his eyes closed. West stroked his hair. It began tentatively—a ghost of sensation—before he grew comfortable. "Mmm, that feels good." Noah leaned into the touch. "It's harder to turn it off with all this wedding shit going on. And the show. They're all expecting things from me and I know it doesn't sound like a lot, but it feels huge. There's just... so much. I should be able to handle it. I can handle it." If he kept saying it he might start to believe it. It hadn't happened yet, but he also believed in optimism. That hadn't quite worked for him yet either.

  "And I didn't hate you."

  Noah snorted so hard it sent fresh pain ricocheting through his head. "Yes, you did."

  "Fine, I did. And you deserved it. But you don't anymore. You haven't for a long time." His voice was so soft that Noah almost missed it. Each word matched the delicate brush of West's fingers over his scalp. "Your family reminds me of mine."

  "Oh? You never talk about them. Except your sister. I was starting to think you sprang out of the earth full grown like Venus. No, wait. It was a clam. Or sea foam? Is that Venus or the Little Mermaid. Maybe it's both."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about." West coughed and turned his face away, but Noah caught the slip of a smile on his lips.

  "I'm not making this up, okay. It's a painting. She's on a shell. It's Botticelli. Look it up."

  "I believe you."

  "It's a real thing," Noah insisted sullenly.

  "I know."

  "Look it up."

  "I will." He blew out a breath and his expression went dark as a blackout on a moonless night. "I don't like talking about my family. My brother, Reese, he's in town. He has been for a few weeks. When he's here it's like I can feel him around every corner. Waiting. Which is obviously silly, but I'll be happier when he's gone. Anywhere else but here." He winced and shook his head. "I'm not supposed to say that though, am I?"

  "Why not?"

  "Because we're family. I love my family," he said. Emphatically. Almost desperately. It was a desperation Noah knew all too well. "But it's easier to love most of them when they're not around. My brother and my parents, they don't know me. They don't know who I am. And they make me feel like I don't know myself. That's why I don't talk about them. Because this is my space. You're my space. And I don't want them here in my space."

  West wasn't even looking at him. Instead, his gaze was focused on the wall displaying Noah's photos. His expression flat but not empty, more like resting, as if he was as soothed by stroking Noah's hair as Noah was by the stroking.

  And Noah loved him. He loved West. He must have for a while, the feeling slipping into his cracks when he wasn't paying attention and blooming up like a daisy through broken concrete.

  Well shit.

  THE REST OF THE NIGHT was dedicated to a panoply of absolutely mundane domesticity. West ordered food and they sat on Noah's couch to eat it then curled up beneath a blanket to watch a movie on his laptop. Noah woke again to an elbow jabbing him in the side and the end credits.

  "You didn't like it, did you?" West asked wryly.

  "No. No, it was..." Noah yawned and ruined any complaint he could have made.

  "We could have watched something else if you wanted."

  Noah snuggled closer. He'd fallen over West as he slept and he planned to enjoy the situation for as long as possible. The closeness. The warmth. The buzz of tension was finally ebbing and replacing it was buttery soft contentment. He leaned up to kiss West's cheek. "No, sweetheart. I liked it. I'm just tired. Once the anxiety backlash kicks in, I usually crash for a few hours. We can watch it again sometime. I'm always here for Cary Grant getting tied up and I promise I won't fall asleep on round two."

  "Fine, but if you do there'll be a penalty."

  "I like the sounds of that. Is it a spanking?"

  West shoved him off, but he was laughing. "No."

  "Well that's a pity."

  West glanced at his phone. "It's getting late. I should probably..." He trailed off, eyes still lowered, not looking at his phone anymore.

  "Stay," Noah said. "If you want." His heart hammered in his chest. There were more words on his tongue and it would be so easy to speak them into reality, so quick to lay everything out, to serve up
his heart on a platter. But he didn't. Instead he said, "It's been a long day and I could use the company. I would like the company."

  Indecision was written large across West's face. "If you're sure." Despite what he'd said he still sat stiff as a tin soldier.

  Noah's touch grazed along West's bicep and down his forearm, outlining each tendon on the back of his hand before he twined their fingers together. "I am."

  "Then okay."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dangerous Apps

  For the first time in a long while, West missed his Monday morning class. And his afternoon class. He missed everything but the rumble of Noah's laughter while he lay sprawled on top of him and the easy way they fit together. Not just their bodies. Their everything. Even when they weren't speaking West felt peace.

  But eventually afternoon bled into late afternoon and West had to go. Noah trailed him to the door, dressed only in black jeans and a smile.

  "I need to go home and shower." West had brushed his teeth earlier with the last spare toothbrush in Noah's value pack but that didn't change the fact that he was wearing two day old clothes and bristly with stubble. He'd hardly looked like himself in the bathroom mirror. He didn't mind the change. But he still had to go home.

  "I have a shower," Noah offered.

  "And change my clothes."

  "I have clothes."

  West barked out a laugh. "You're just trying to get me back into bed."

  "Ideally yes."

  "Anyway, your clothes wouldn't fit me. I don't think I can pull off the florals."

  "I could—"

  "Don't finish that sentence." West covered his mouth with one hand then changed his mind and covered it with his own mouth instead. Noah's hands found the small of his back and the nape of his neck like they'd been made to fit there. It filled him with an almost painful longing. "I'll see you at the studio tomorrow. I promised Charlotte I would take her out for dinner tonight, otherwise I'd consider letting you talk me out of this."

  "Oh! That coat. The one you mentioned."