Page 128 of Stop and Seek
“Just rough me up, buttercup.”
The laugh broke out of Noah, loud as hell. No warning. He laced their fingers together like it would help Theo hold on. Maybe helphimselfhold on, too.
“You sure?” he asked when he finally managed to calm down. “I told you: I hate the ER.”
“I’m not gonna die, Noah,” Theo muttered. “I’m just high. I—I cantastecolors, and smell music and yeah, at first it was scary… but kinda here for it now.”
“How about we make anactualdeal? We fuck, and you let me spend the night. Fair?”
Theo’s head snapped over to him, all pursed lips and gentle swaying.
The silence stretched, punctuated only by the dull sound of Noah’s playlist in the background. Did it smell the same way it sounded? Like retro diners with greasy cheeseburgers and shakes the size of his head? Waiters on skates?
Then Theo pressed his fingertips into his eyes. “Yeah. Fine. That’s fair, I guess.”
At the red light, Noah leaned over and kissed him. Theo tasted like sweat and heat and everything Noah wanted to protect in the world.
Despite what Theo said—he needed to get dunked into cold water. He was hotter than what was safe, temperature probably hovering around that scary hundred-and-four mark. Ice water would’ve been better, but that wasn’t as available. Noah had to settle with the shower.
Yanking the curtain back, he shoved Theo over the lip of the bath.
And Theoflailed—limbs trashing, voice high and pissed—as he hit the spray of water like he’d been shot.
It was fucking beautiful.
Water exploded everywhere. Theo gasped, shivering and red-faced. Hair dripping into his eyes. Glasses crooked.
Theo slapped at his pockets, front first, then the back. “Shit—my phone—”
Noah dangled it between two fingers. “Looking for this?”
There was that glare again. The one Noah adored more than anything. It could’ve killed a lesser man.
“I’m not that mean,” Noah said, smirking. “I wasn’t copping a feel in the hall. Just protecting your screen addiction.”
“You couldn’t ha—havesaidsomething?” Theo spat. His teeth chattered. “L-let me fuckingstripfirst?”
“Could’ve. Didn’t.”
Theo was pouting. Dripping wet and vibrating with rage—it made Noah’s skin feel too tight.
So he tossed the phone, stepped over the edge of the tub and kissed him. Tongue first, hand second, pushing under Theo’s shirt and pinching his nipple just to hear what other kind of noises Theo had in store.
Theo’s nails dug into his face. He muttered something about his glasses, and Noah yanked them off, throwing them somewhere that was probably not safe but close enough. Hopefully.
“Do you want me to treat you like a cheap whore?” Noah asked against his ear, lips dragging lower, down the curve of his throat. “You want me to fuck you til you can’t stand?”
Theo nodded like his life depended on it, and Noah’s vision fuckingswam.
“Then beg.”
Theo stiffened. His mouth opened. Closed. He made this frustrated sound and his fingers lost their grip, frozen and slick against Noah’scheeks.
Finally, Theo sighed. His head hit the tiled wall. “I sound so fucking stupid.”
“You sound fuckingperfect.”
That was too nice, wasn’t it? That wasn’t what Theo wanted.
