Slowly, I raise my hand to sift my fingers through his messy hair. He stays asleep through it, but mumbles a few words I can’t make out. I turn my head to press my nose into his hair, trying to inhale the familiar scent of him without seeming like a damn creep. Of course, that’s the moment that Chris wanders back to observe us.
“You have a way with him,” Chris points out, eyes stuck on where my fingers gently curl around his arm.
“He’s sleeping.”
Chris rolls his eyes and releases a small laugh. “The man never fucking sleeps.”
Chris disappears back toward the front of the plane with an odd sort of smile. I don’t know what he’s talking about. Nolan hasn’t ever struggled to sleep when I’m around. Although, usually it is because I’ve fucked him into a giant heap of exhaustion. I lose track of time just watching Nolan sleep. His lips stay slightly parted, gentle breaths puffing against my face as he sleeps. Rock music filters from the ears of the headphones, but not loud enough to disturb his quiet slumber.
My arm and shoulder ache from staying still to be a good pillow. I use the time to once again catalog his tattoos. As fond as I am of the flowers on his ribs, I also like the odd mishmash of tattoos that line his arms. The one on his right arm is a sleeve depicting a glowing forest with small, woodland creatures throughout. The closer I look, the more I notice that the creatures look slightly rabid, almost evil. Cool. He has an evil forest on his arm.
A ding goes on overhead and the captain tells us all to buckle in for landing. Not wanting to unsettle Nolan, I carefully reach across him to grab the seat belt. Nolan comes awake with a startle, his fingers reaching out to grab at my forearm.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m just buckling you in.” I carefully pull the seat belt across his lithe waist. His eyes remain on me the entire time, his gaze sharp despite just returning to wakefulness. “Okay?”
“Fine,” Nolan mumbles before clearing his throat. “What time is it?”
“Well, you slept the entire way, angel. We’re landing.”
Nolan either ignores the nickname, or doesn’t hear it, because he presses his pointer finger and thumb against his eyes. He seems annoyed that he slept the entire way. The shake of his leg accompanies us all through landing, even as we come to a stop on the tarmac. Chris stands once the door opens and waits for us to join him. I hold a finger up in the universal sign for him to give us a moment. The man must trust me a shit ton because he leaves the plane without a single argument.
I slip my hand around the nape of Nolan’s neck and squeeze hard. Using my firm grip, I tug him toward me and kiss his still sleep-soft mouth. He fights me for a moment, fingers pushing against my chest, before they curl into the fabric and tug me closer as he moans quietly into my mouth. The shake of his leg stills and his body slumps against me as I swipe my tongue into his mouth, making him pliant andmineunder the onslaught of our kiss.
“Better?” I ask against Nolan’s slack mouth.
“Fuck you,” Nolan whispers back, but the absence of tension in his body belies his statement. I relaxed him and he’s pissed about it.
I grin broadly when he clamors out of the seat, and my grin grows even wider when he waits for me before stepping out of the plane. Nolan strides straight for the car waiting to no doubt take us to the hotel close to the arena. Chris sits in the front while the both of us climb into the back.
“How’s Trevor?” Nolan asks as he stares out the window at the passing London scenery.
“Fine. He found love, quit escorting.”
Nolan’s head turns to me, a small frown on his lips. “Really?”
“Mmm, yeah. Nice guy. Tall, southern, quiet.”
“Hope it lasts. Trevor was nice.”
Nice seems like a big compliment coming from Nolan. I want to ask him a million questions. I want to ask him why he seemsso set on me after having a turn at almost every other guy on the boyfriend roster. What makes me different? But I don’t ask because I’m not quite sure I want the answer.
The car pulls up to a fancy-ass-looking hotel that I’m definitely not dressed well enough for, but Nolan isn’t either in his skinny jeans and tight black T-shirt. Doesn’t seem to matter though when we walk into the lobby and a hush falls over the people milling around. I have this odd urge to pull Nolan into my arms, shield him from the view of everyone around us. But I also know Nolan would hate that with the burning passion of a thousand suns, so I stay a few feet behind him as he heads straight for the elevators.
He stands anxiously by the elevator doors, fingers tapping against his thigh. I slowly reach up to slip the headphones back over his ears, thinking maybe the loud music will calm his restless tapping. His anxious movements stop and his dark eyes stare at me in some weird mix of confusion and gratefulness. A moment later, Chris reappears while brandishing a hotel key card.
“Your room key for the next three nights,” Chris says as he slaps the card against my chest.
I grab the slim key with a frown. He didn’t hand one to Nolan, just me. But Nolan doesn’t seem confused or surprised by it, instead pushing his way into the elevator to lean against the furthest wall as he waits for me to hit the penthouse button.
“I’ll see you at the arena in two hours for warm-up.” Chris exits the elevator with a wave. “Make sure he eats something,” Chris calls without a look back.
“I’m not eating,” Nolan mumbles under his breath as the elevator continues to climb to the penthouse level.
“Something small?”
“No.”
“For me?”
