Page 102 of Man On

“What?”

“Dude, there’s something wrong with your brother. He clocked Miah?—”

I’m running down the hallway before they even finish the sentence. I don’t have to know what room number he’s in to know where to go. A few guys are hanging around outside the door, and Miah is holding an ice pack to his face.

“What happened?” I yell, pushing past them all and busting into the room. My gut drops.

Lane is huddled in a corner at the end of the farthest bed, forehead to his knees and arms over his head. There are red streaks down the exposed part of his arms and the back of his neck where he scratched himself. He’s breathing heavily, but doesn’t respond to my voice when I call his name.

Miah follows me in, and several guys stand inside the doorway, looking concerned.

“Get the fuck out!” I bark at them, knowing that their presence will only make Lane worse. “And keep your mouth shut, or I’ll break your fucking legs!”

I glance at Miah, who is shifting his good eye nervously from me to Lane, while I cautiously approach him. Kneeling in front of Lane, I put my hands on his knees, talking to him softly, letting him know it’s me.

“I don’t know what happened. I woke up, and he was sitting on the edge of his bed, muttering. I thought he was talking to me, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I turned on the light, and he was, I dunno, man, he was trying to peel his face off or something. I tried to shake his shoulder, and he swung.” Miah shrugs, a helpless look on his face. His eye doesn’t look great, but it’ll heal. “Then he lost it. Started thrashing and breaking shit. Woke up the guys next door, and I had to send them to get you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I tell him, but all my attention is on the broken boy in front of me.

My hands slide to his arms, caressing softly, up and down, until he relaxes. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he shifts his position so I can move in and pull his trembling body against mine. My knees fall to either side of his hips and I wrap my arms around his chest, giving him the pressure he needs to ground himself. His face nuzzles into my neck, and I whisper into his ear.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here. You’re alright.”

When I look up again, Miah is sitting at the edge of one of the beds, watching the whole thing with an indecipherable expression. I’m practically straddling Lane, in his lap, with all my limbs wrapped around him. When he catches my eye, he runs a hand through his hair. There are too many questions in the look he gives me, but he knows me well enough to know when to back off.

“Did you watch it?” I ask Miah, and I know he knows what I’m talking about.

He looks down. “I only saw part of it. It was on in Danny and Jamie’s place. I tried to distract them from it as much as I could. I don’t think they know.”

“Did you see enough?” I ask pointedly, and the pained expression is enough confirmation. “So you understand, then?”

Miah swallows and nods.

“I’ve got him. You can go sleep in my room. I’ll stay with him.”

“Noah?”

I aim a warning glare at Miah, and he decides against whatever he was going to ask. After grabbing a few of his things, he leaves. The moment the door clicks shut, I don’t waste anymore time on pretense. I lift Lane’s face to mine, looking into his eyes, darkened with pain and fear. I press a kiss to his mouth. Just a simple kiss, but he opens for me, and I deepen it. I pour everything, all my emotions, all my comfort and promises I don’t have words for, into him with this kiss.

“You with me?”

Lane nods against me, pressing his mouth harder against mine.

Untangling my limbs from around his body, I pull Lane to his feet and lead him to the bed. After pulling his shirt over his head and getting him to step out of his pants, I strip down to my boxer briefs. When we crawl into bed, I lay across him, skin to skin, giving him every point of contact.

But he needs more.

“Noah,” he says softly, and I lift my head to look at him. He bends forward and takes my lips, pulling me higher on his body until I’m fully on top of him. “Noah,” he whispers again, this time a plea.

“It’s okay, baby. I know. I’ve got you.”

Trailing kisses down his body, I peel his boxers off his legs and settle between them. Kissing and nipping up the insides of his thighs, I take each of his balls in my mouth, gently sucking, before making my way up his long shaft. At his tip, I roll my tongue around the inside of his foreskin before sucking up all the pre-cum leaking out of his slit, pushing my tongue inside to coax out more. I spit it on my index and middle fingers, and Lane’s thighs instinctively widen for me. He whimpers and moans as I take him as deep into the back of my throat as I can, bobbing slowly while my fingers tease his hole.

I want to drag this out, make his pleasure last for hours if I can. I’m going to edge him until he’s begging, and then once he’s feeding me his cum, I’ll start all over again. So far, my record is three orgasms in a row before he’s too spent and overstimulated to do more. Tonight we’ll try for four.

He needs the connection as well as the distraction. Not only because he had the nightmare, but because he knows people saw him like that. Letting me see his vulnerabilities is hard enough, and I love him.

I… love him.

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