Kaj collapsed on the floor and dragged himself to the side, sagging against the bed frame. The contractions of his groin hadn’t stopped yet, making his entire body tingle with a familiar ache. One he missed more than he was willing to admit out loud.
“Holy fuck…” He heard Noah say between sharp gasps.
As the haze lifted, Kaj turned his face to look at him. With a hand resting over his heart, Noah heaved, then rubbed the jizz off his eyes, dragging his finger over his cheek, scooping more on the way to his mouth.
A guttural sound rumbled in the cavity of Kaj’s chest at the sight.
“That was…” Noah started, half-opening one eye as he looked at the drummer, a lazy grin spreading across his face.
“Yeah,” Kaj agreed, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Let me get something to clean you up,” he rasped as he pulled himself to his feet, muscles protesting.
Kaj walked into the en-suite and took a leak, realizing just now that his hand was covered in Noah’s cum. Once he flushed the toilet, without giving it a second thought, he licked the back of his hand, closing his eyes and sighing. Every so often, even if he wasn’t a fan of swallowing when he sucked dick, he still did it—give as much as you take and all that crap. He was an emotionally detached asshole, but he’d never been selfish while doing the deed. However, Noah’s taste made him feral.
Kaj washed his hands and face, then soaked a towel and exited the bathroom.
“Here,” he said, tossing the washcloth to Noah, who was lying in the middle of the mattress with his arms stretched out. “Clean your face.”
“Thanks.” Noah scrubbed it over his face, but when he was about to wipe it over his stomach, Kaj climbed onto the bed and slapped his hand away.
“I saidyour face. This is mine.” He straddled him and leaned down, lapping up the mess on Noah’s abdomen.
Noah hummed, running his fingers through Kaj’s hair. “I know things between us are—”
“Don’t.” Kaj cut him off, flashing him a stern look. “Not now.”
Noah huffed. “Okay.”
Although Kaj didn’t want to address the implications of what they’d done, he knew this changed the rules of the game for them. They would have to talk eventually and set their limits and expectations, but he wanted to live in his delusional world—where he didn’t have to analyze his thoughts or emotions—for a little longer.
Rolling off Noah when he was done lapping the last drop of his cum, Kaj lay on his back beside him, an arm tucked under his head. “We can’t tell anyone about this.”
He didn’t want to think about the shit Niels would give him for jeopardizing the stability of the band or his own recovery. Or that them having sex could make Xander and Aksel feel uncomfortable in any way. But this was just a temporary bliss, so why share what they did behind closed doors with everyone?
“I figured as much,” Noah said, tossing the towel somewhere on the floor. “I think I should know if this was just a one-time thing or not, though.”
Gnawing at the inside of his cheek, Kaj exhaled hard through his nose. Why lie when he was counting the minutes until the next round?
“Give me ten and we’ll go for the second one.”
Fourteen
Kajhadbarelyslept.He hadn’t drunk a cup of coffee yet. And still, he wasn’t as out of service as he’d be any other day without those two things, especially the latter; sleeping was overrated.
That was the Noah effect.
Correction: Noah’s dick effect.
After years of living—more like surviving—with unresolved, repressed trauma, Kaj had become a ticking bomb. Some said he was simply weak. Others said he was lazy because instead of getting professional help to deal withwhateverhe was dealing with, he’d gone the easiest route. People always had an opinion about his life, even though they didn’t know shit about him. However, none of them had walked in his shoes, so he didn’t give a fuck… anymore.
It had taken him forever to actively look for help. That was true. But even when Kaj admitted he had issues and needed some sort of counseling to get out of the sinkhole he was in, finding someone fitting for him was hard.
After Kaj overdosed almost two years ago, when he got out of rehab the first time, he had three appointments with different psychologists, but none felt right. He didn’t connect with them, not enough to want to talk about his darkest secrets. Two relapses and a handful of therapists later, he finally found the one for him.
Kaj had struggled to open up and tell her about the abuse at the beginning. He’d stayed on the surface, beat around the bush, and didn’t really let her in. But one horrible nightmare and a third relapse did the trick. When he came to her office the next morning, he crumbled, becoming a big crying baby as he blurtedeverything. It was cathartic.
November third last year had marked a before and after for him.
Since then, they had talked and talked. But some days, Kaj didn’t feel like sharing or learning about how his body responded to stress or how to identify and reframe his problematic thinking, so she’d allow him to wind down in different ways. Writing music was his favorite. It was unconventional, but it worked for him. It helped him relax and express his feelings even when the words didn’t come out.
