I drank my tea. Because he smiled when I moved closer and let myself rest against his chest. Where I belonged.
I was fucked, wasn’t I?
Chapter 19
Noah
This weekend wasn’t anything like what I expected, and nothing had followed the carefully constructed script in my head. The one I had set up so I wouldn’t be disappointed. If this happened? I could do this. If he said this? I could say that.
Nothing here fit my narrative, and that in itself was a massive relief. Because the reality of what we were doing was way better. It was past midnight, and we were on the sofa, all tangled up, talking. This room was huge with high ceilings and dark wood panelling, and judging by the many blankets piled up on the sofa, it got way colder than this. Thick carpets and that old smell you picked up in museums. Nothing like my tidy littlefresh-smelling newbuild down south. Somehow? I preferred this. This had character and was lived in and felt like someone’s very old…home. If I thought my parents’ bungalow was old-fashioned and backwards? This was positively antique. Yet I loved it. Because he was right there in it.
I now knew everything about the school, the history of this room, that there was a hidden panel to the storeroom next door and that the top windows didn’t open but the bottom ones let through such a draft that icicles would form on the windowsills in winter.
Silly things, but I loved this. I felt…so normal. Perfectly so even.
“We should go to bed,” I suggested, stifling another yawn. Stroking his hair. Kissing his forehead, with him lying against my chest, all tangled up in me. My hoodie and T-shirt tugged up so he could get his hand underneath, gently stroking my stomach with his fingertips.
Things that should have perhaps excited me but instead had calmed me, right to the bone.
I loved it. Loved everything about what we were creating here, all things I so desperately wanted to last.
“Would be a shame to let my clean arse go to waste,” he snickered softly into my bare skin. My chest was getting scratched from the stubble on his chin as he messed around with my clothing.
“Fox, would you like me to fuck you?” I could barely believe I was saying those words, with strength in my voice and conviction. I wanted to. And his little nod?
“I’m wearing a jockstrap, and it’s bloody killing me.”
“Take it off then, you silly man.”
“Not silly. Just… I thought…”
“I like you best when you’re naked.” Who was being silly here? Obviously me.
“Then we’d better get a move on before we fall asleep. What are we like? I feel old. I used to be able to go out clubbing all night. I went to uni in Manchester, and we were, like, surviving on zero sleep and still made it to lectures.”
“I never went clubbing at all. Newcastle’s student scene wasn’t my thing. I lived in a shared house and spent most of my time locked in my room trying to cram everything into my head. I went out once, got roped into going to a gay club and lost my virginity to some dude who wouldn’t even look at me after. But, at least it was done. I went back a few times. Wasn’t that memorable in the end.”
“Was I memorable?”
What a question to ask, but oh gosh, I got it. I got every little anxious thought that was obviously swirling in his head because they were swirling in mine too, every few seconds questioning what I was doing here. Then remembering why.
“I’m here because I can’t get over the fact that you stayed in my bed for forty-eight hours and that I fucked you and you fucked me and it was absolutely everything I’ve ever wanted. That’s why I’m here. Does that make it memorable?”
“For me? I was injured and off my head on your pain meds. I totally blame you.”
“You only fucked me because I drugged you?”
This was not a serious conversation. How I knew? His clothes were coming off faster than I could get mine to drop on that musty, old carpet. Socks and all. His dick already half hard and mine?
“You’ve got the nicest cock, Noah. Thick and all that. Pretty. Also fits nicely in my mouth. Did you know that?”
“Does it now?” My hands on his shoulders, walking him backwards through the room, towards the bed. A nice, big one. A gentle shove ontothe mattress, and his arse was bouncing nicely as I climbed on top of him. Straddled those thighs. A trail of hair now down his stomach. He must have waxed for his holiday, but I much preferred him like this. A little bit of chest hair, which I let my fingertips explore. I was going to take my time here. All of this, laid out for me to enjoy, like a buffet of sexual favours that I fully intended to sample. All of them. One at a time.
“I waxed…you know,” he started. “Before.”
“Don’t ever think you have to do that. If it makes you happy? It will make me happy, but I love you just like this.”
Fuck.
