“Only a small one.”
After leaving Mickey and Roger to do whatever they were gonna do in the kitchen, Alistair took Noah back into the living room to sit by the fireplace. Crybaby hovered by the door, but she left when Alistair waved her away.
Or at least, she was out of sight.
“Wow.” Noah gasped as he plopped down in one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Those guys are super intense. Are they always like that?”
“For as long as I’ve known them.” Alistair sat across from Noah in the other chair. “I hope we didn’t interrupt your cooking too early.”
“Nah. Apparently that sauce stuff has gotta cook for like two hours.” Noah sighed loudly. “Okay, so you do know he was lying, right? Roger?”
“I know.” Alistair chuckled. “And so does Mickey. They have a most unique way of engaging in foreplay.”
“Yeah. Wow. You can say that again.” Noah cleared his throat, and he looked away from Alistair’s bright eyes. That angry, antsy feeling was back, and he stared off into the fireplace. “Isn’t it kinda hot for a fire? Or are you trying to set the mood, huh?”
“I want you to talk to me.”
“About the fire?”
“No.”
“Well, we’re talking now.”
“No.” Alistair crossed his legs and fixed Noah with a firm stare. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“What? I’m fine.”
“Lying is even more unbecoming than your profanity.”
“I don’t know.” Noah shifted in his seat. “Everything? I cussed out some pasta. Or, I guess, I cussed out the lack of pasta. I’m, uh, just…” He could feel Alistair’s gaze, and it made him squirm. “This is still fuckin’ weird, man. I mean, what are we doing?”
“Right now? Talking.”
“You know what I mean.” Noah grunted. “Is, like, worrying about seeing someone getting blown away gonna be a normal problem?”
“No.” Alistair frowned. “Is that what upset you? Mickey threatening Medina?”
“Yeah. And before you say anything, it’s not because it’s Medina.” Noah grimaced. “It was just… I don’t know. I’m angry. I feel weird, and… I don’t know what to do with this. Any of this.”
“Come here.”
“What?”
“Kneel.” Alistair uncrossed his legs and spread them, leaning forward. His intent appeared obvious.
“No.” Noah balked at the command. He was hardly in the mood for that kind of crap right now.
“Dear Noah.” Alistair’s voice was firmer, but his smile was gentle. “Kneel, please.”
Begrudgingly, Noah obeyed. As loudly and aggressively as possible, he got out of the chair and dropped to his knees in front of Alistair. He threw up his hands. “Okay, sir! I’m here. What now?”
Alistair didn’t say anything at first. He reached out for Noah, stroking his hair and the sides of his face, his strong fingers then sliding down his neck and over his shoulders. He was taking his time, apparently in no rush, and he wound his fingers back up into Noah’s hair.
The lack of a reply gave Noah pause, and he wasn’t sure what to do. That knotty feeling was back in his stomach, but he could sense it unraveling as Alistair continued to pet him so gently. He took a deep breath, letting the tension fall away from his shoulders, and leaned into Alistair’s touch.
“Talk to me,” Alistair whispered. “Tell Daddy what you need, dear Noah.”
“I need…” Noah struggled to define the exact balm he required for such an ache. The ache itself was part of the problem. He didn’t know where the pain was coming from.
