Page 109 of Man On

Noah keeps his hold on my hand the entire walk home. It's only about a mile, but it feels like it takes hours, and I have no words. All I can do is stare down at our hands, and then intermittently look around to see if anyone's looking at us. It's still early in the night, since we weren't even at the party for half an hour before Noah went ballistic, and most of campus seems to be out celebrating the beginning of fall break. A few people look at us curiously, but no one says anything. One or two even smile at us as they walk by. But most don't even notice us.

Maybe Danny is right. Maybe most people don't care what's going on outside their own bubbles.

Noah's hand is warm in mine. It's not as foreign as I expected it to be. It feels right.

I have to smile when he squeezes my hand and cuts his eyes past a small copse of trees, but he doesn't stop. He's on a mission, leading me through campus to get us back to the small dorm apartment we've made our home.

When we get to our door, he presses me against it, kissing me softly while he maneuvers his key into the lock. The door opens, and he walks me backwards. When the door slams shut behind us, it's like someone snapped their fingers and turned a light on. The atmosphere between us changes, and we're all heavy breaths and fumbling fingers as we kick off our shoes and strip each other right there. We don't even make it to a bedroom. Noah leads me to the couch, and after giving the coffee table a shove to make more room, he kneels between my legs. The way he strokes, licks, and kisses my shaft is nothing short of worshipful. He's driving me wild with need, and I'm seconds from thrusting into his mouth, but I desperately want to kiss him. I want to fuse our bodies together and get as close as two people can get to becoming one.

"I need you," I whisper hoarsely. They're the first words I've said since we left the party, and they sound loud to my ears.

Noah kisses up my abs and chest to my neck. "Whatever you want," he says reverently. "Whatever you need."

Pulling him up to take his mouth, I shift us until I'm straddling him on the couch. It's reminiscent of the first night we spent together, and I take both of us in my hand, stroking while I devour his mouth. The deeper we kiss, the harder I stroke us, until we're moaning and leaking all over each other. It's not enough. I need more. I need him inside me.

Because he can always read my mind, Noah mutters, "Lube, right corner." Reminding me that we stashed a tube under the couch.

Reaching for it, I squeeze some onto Noah's fingers and fill my hand. The easy slide of my palm over our throbbing cocks makes us both shiver, and we moan in unison as my ass swallows Noah's thick fingers. I'm impatient with the prep, reaching to guide him inside me before he declares me ready. The burning stretch as I sink down on his thick cock forces a guttural groan out of my throat. Noah wraps an arm around the small of my back, and the other around the back of my neck, holding me tight against him. We are each other's air, sucking in deep breaths between passionate kisses. My fingers dig into his hair, gripping it tightly as I slowly roll my hips. My hard cock presses between us with every movement, my balls rubbing on Noah's lower stomach. Pre-cum leaks on his chest and he holds me closer.

Noah trails his lips down my jaw and throat, sucking and nipping at my Adam's apple the way he likes to do. He sucks it hard, groaning when I lift and drop myself harder. He pants and moans into my skin, angling his hooded eyes and open mouth up to watch me ride him. My breaths are heavy and laced with desperate sobs of need. I arch my back, crying out to God when Noah thrusts his hips up to meet my ass every time it drops down. The rhythm of our movements becomes frantic, an intense current of pleasure growing. The air is thick, filled with the sound of heavy pants and moaning. As my climax threatens, my moans bleed into mewls and keening.

Noah is heavy lidded and lost to his lust, but he pulls my face down to his. We're so lost and breathless, we can’t even kiss, only hold our lips near each other, panting and crying into each other's mouths. My moans and cries become a repeated mantra of Noah's name, over and over again, as I near the point of no return. My cock pulses between our bodies, the only friction I need with the perfect assault on my prostate. It thickens and the trickle of pre-cum becomes more like a stream.

"Come for me, Lane. Come all over me."

"Oh God, Noah, Oh God—I'm—coming!" I wail as my orgasm takes over my body.

Between us, my cock erupts, shooting cum so hard it splashes the underside of Noah's chin. I spasm so intensely my limbs freeze.

Somehow I end up on my back, legs in the air as Noah fucks me hard and fast, riding the never-ending aftershocks of my orgasm. He grips my legs against his chest and pounds me, chasing his orgasm. He roars out his release, pounding into me before letting my legs fall open and draping himself over me. Still moving inside me, he kisses me so hard it wrenches intense emotions from my chest and I sob as I find a different kind of release.

CHAPTER 33

NOAH

Lane breaks—no, shatters—beneath me, bringing tears to my own eyes. I try to stop, but he locks his legs around me and grips my ass, encouraging me to keep going. Understanding what he needs, I let him hold on to me, kissing him and moving inside him until my cock softens. When I finally pull out of him, I lay to one side, pulling him against me. Lane rolls to his side and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing his face into my torso. And he sobs.

I've never seen him like this. Even when I found him in the locker rooms that day, he didn't cry, not really. He was despondent, detached from the world. His nightmares are much the same, and although I've seen the tears, he's not here when it's happening. Right now he's one hundred percent here with me, and feeling everything. All the good and all the bad.

Even though it hurts to see him like this, it's a good thing. He needs to get this out. More than that, he needs one person in his life that he trusts enough to drop all his walls around.

And I get to be that person.

When the sobs finally stop wracking his body, he's still for a long time before he speaks.

"So, are we… out now?"

I can't help it. I laugh. It wasn't what I was expecting to hear. Even less so, the acceptance layered in his uncertain tone.

"Do you want to be?" I ask, although honestly, the cat is kind of out of the bag. I'm sure I can work some magic to get everyone to keep their mouths shut if Lane wants to go on pretending. I'd do that for him, but I'm hoping he won't want to hide anymore.

Admittedly, a large part of that is selfishness. Because I hate having to temper myself in public, having to pretend that the guy everyone thinks I hate is not actually the most important person to me. And I especially hate not being able to reach out and take his hand or wrap my arms around him and squeeze when I can see the demons rising behind his eyes.

"I don't know," he says, and I can accept that as a fair answer. "I don't know what this is."

"It's whatever you want it to be, Lane," I tell him, raking my fingers through his hair. It's hard to manage the impulse to tell him how things are going to be, that he's mine and that's the end of it. I don't need labels, nor do I give a fuck what anyone else says. He makes me happy, and I think I make him happy, when he can set aside all the other bullshit. I like having him around. I like the way he makes me feel. I like the way we fluctuate between balancing each other out and driving each other nuts. And I really, really like getting to dirty him up and wring orgasms out of him whenever I want. But I tamp all that down, because he needs to be the one to come to me if this is going to be real between us. "It's your call."

"That doesn't seem fair to you," he whispers.

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