FoM02 Trammel (36 page)

As soon as Noah’s back hit the bed, Lindsay climbed over him, pushing Noah’s shirt up ahead of him so he could lick and kiss and nibble all that warm skin. He shifted his grip on Noah’s cock too, and kept stroking.

“Clothes off.” Noah arched as he peeled his shirt off. “Total waste of closing the door if you leave them on.” He threw his shirt into the shadows and started to get Lindsay’s undone.

“I thought closing the door was so Ylli wouldn’t come yell at us again.” Lindsay sat up, though, and helped Noah get him undressed. Shirt, and then he stood to kick off his shoes and slither out of his jeans and briefs. He tugged Noah’s jeans down past his hips. “Yours too.”

But, oh, that was too pretty to resist. He leaned over, distracted by the sight of Noah’s cock arcing up from his body, and licked it from base to tip.

“
Lin
...” Noah stopped pushing his jeans off and slumped on the bed, motionless other than the shivers that ran through him.
So sweet.
Lindsay mouthed at his bare balls and up the shaft of his cock, licking and nuzzling.

Noah tasted good, the heat of his skin almost overpowering anything else, and Lindsay moaned as he finally sucked him in.

It was just as well the door was closed; Noah wasn’t quiet. He grabbed handfuls of the covers like he was trying to keep still, twisting his hands in them. His noises eventually formed words, Lindsay’s name and pleas for more and how good Lindsay felt. That sounded amazing.

Lindsay lifted his head long enough to ask, “Where’s the oil?” before sucking Noah back into his mouth.

Noah barely managed to inhale and speak. “My pack.” His backpack, which had been brought up with other random things rescued from the van, was lying inside the door.

Giving a little grumble of annoyance to let Noah know exactly how he felt about having to stop, even for a moment, Lindsay pulled away. “Lose your jeans before I get back to the bed.”

He rolled up to his feet and went to get the blue bottle of oil Rajan had left them for Noah’s skin. It felt like every moment he had to wait was too much.

The jeans were gone by the time Lindsay turned around, and Noah had pulled the covers back.

Against the cheap white sheets, his skin looked burnished, darker than Dane’s. The gauze that covered the

wound on his chest was white on the edges only now, the center was dark red, like a poppy. They’d have to change the gauze soon.

Not now, though. “You look beautiful like that.”

Lindsay crawled back onto the bed, nuzzling at Noah’s cock as he twisted the top off the bottle.

“I like seeing you happy,” Noah said quietly. His voice was rough, like his throat was tight. He threaded his fingers through Lindsay’s hair over and over. “Sadness looks lovely on you, but you’re too good at it. I like you best like this. Blushy and tangled and alive. I want you to look like this more.

Always.”

Noah was right. Lindsay had been sad too much.

“You’re welcome to make that your new goal in life,” Lindsay said, chuckling softly and kneeling up to see Noah’s face. He slipped his fingers between Noah’s legs, petting behind his balls and farther back, not quite pushing in yet. “I’ll try to make it easy for you.”

Being with Noah like this was nothing like being with Dane. But both of them felt perfect. Made him feel perfect.

“I was already considering something like that.” Noah drew his knees up and planted his feet on the mattress, opening up for Lindsay so easily. He looked languid, almost sleepy, except that his eyes held that hot, orange glitter. “It’s good to love your life’s work.”

“I’m certainly enjoying how much effort you put into it.” Lindsay bent to flick his tongue over the head of Noah’s cock as he pushed one finger in, then two. Noah was incredibly tight, and every clench of his body made Lindsay want to push into him faster, deeper,
now
.

Noah whimpered. “
Lindsay
.” He opened himself up more with his hands behind his thighs. He was always so open, not just with his body. “Please. Don’t wait. I need you.”

“I’m right here.” Lindsay wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of hearing Noah like that. It was new, but already intoxicating. He got himself slick and crawled up over Noah, pushing in slowly, taking his time so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed by the sensations.

“Fuck, yes.” The words slipped out on an exhalation as Noah’s head fell back and he closed his eyes.

He let Lindsay set the pace, surrendering now that he had what he needed.

“You feel amazing.” Lindsay got his mouth on Noah’s chest, staying away from the gauze but licking and nibbling everywhere else that he could reach. “Taste good too.”

Noah got his hands on Lindsay’s ass and pulled him in close with a groan. “I
love
sex,” he murmured in Lindsay’s ear.

Lindsay was beginning to get the idea; it fit with everything Noah was, heat and passion and ferocity.

He writhed, pushing in deeper, and nipped at the line of Noah’s jaw. “Show me,” he whispered, getting one hand on Noah’s cock. He was also beginning to understand why Dane liked it when
he
was vocal in bed.

“Let me hear you. I want to know how much you like it.”

The touches and the words seemed to leave Noah wordless for a moment, all he had for Lindsay were gasps and his pleasure-drunk expression. Then he leaned in to kiss Lindsay hard, winding his hand in Lindsay’s hair to hold him there for one hot, wet kiss after another. Shivers ran through him, making him tighter around Lindsay’s cock with wave after wave.

“Getting fucked by
you
is incredible,” he whispered against Lindsay’s lips. “You feel so good, Lin.

Knowing you’re in me, in any way, in my head, inside me...makes me feel safe. Real. I want it. You. Keep thinking about it. I want you to have me. Take me. Need to know you want me like this.”

“I do, Noah.” Lindsay had wanted him since that day at the school, when he’d known it was impossible, and that had only gotten stronger as Noah had healed and revealed the man he really was beneath the scars. He moved faster, harder, trying to show Noah how he felt with more than words.

Too soon, heat crept up from his belly and he had to struggle to keep control of himself, to keep from coming already. He wanted to hear Noah, didn’t want to lose a single word in the rush of his own pleasure.

Noah wrapped his legs around Lindsay’s hips and let go of Lindsay’s hair to grab the sheets instead.

When he came, he was still begging Lindsay for more, already babbling half-coherently about everything he wanted Lindsay to do to him and with him, tonight, tomorrow, and days after that.

Finally, Lindsay could let himself go. He let Noah’s words wash over him as he fucked Noah hard and fast, and came with a sharp cry. The force of it left him gasping and shivering, and he barely managed to keep from collapsing onto Noah as his hips moved instinctively, drawing more pleasure from his oversensitive flesh.

Noah held on to him, trying to get as close as he could. “That feels amazing,” he panted, pressing aimless, scattered kisses to Lindsay’s shoulder and neck. “Giving it up to you like that.”

Dipping his head to catch Noah’s mouth in a soft kiss, Lindsay admitted, “I want it to be like that all the time.” He wasn’t sure he had words for how it made him feel, but he’d experienced it with Dane too, that completeness.

“It will be.” Noah sounded like they were discussing gravity. “I’m yours.”

Lindsay loved that surety. He pulled out and Noah moved with him so that they changed places and Lindsay lay against his chest now, soaking up his warmth. Noah’s certainty reminded him of Dane, when Dane had first said Lindsay was his and couldn’t be taken away.

Dane
. There was an empty place inside him aching for Dane to return. They’d gotten him out, but he still wasn’t
back
. Not yet.

All Lindsay could do was give him time. Meanwhile, he’d give Noah what Noah needed, and get a little of what he needed too. The warmth and contact were good, but the intimacy—knowing Noah had been inside his worst nightmares as much as he’d been inside Noah, that Noah
knew
him now—made being with Noah easy and comforting.

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

Noah tucked them both in and curled up around Lindsay, cradling him in the crook of his arm and pressing gentle kisses to his hair. He was quiet for a while, but not asleep. He petted Lindsay’s hair and rubbed his back, the warmth of his hand easing away Lindsay’s aches and tension.

“He’ll be back soon,” Noah said at last, like he could hear Lindsay thinking. “He needs to be here, with you. This is his place. Try to sleep for now.”

Noah knew more about these things than Lindsay, and he wouldn’t let either of them lie there doing nothing if Dane needed their help to find his way home. That made it easier to relax, even if it hurt to do nothing. Lindsay kissed Noah’s chest, warm skin under his lips, and closed his eyes.

“Thank you for being here,” Lindsay whispered. “And for everything else.”

“This is where I should be.” Noah let his cheek rest against Lindsay’s hair and Lindsay felt as much as heard his sigh. “You have as much to do with it as I do.” The candlelight faded away into darkness.

Cyrus had chosen well, pairing Lindsay and Noah, for both of them. They fit together, better than Lindsay could have imagined. Lindsay owed the old mage a great deal; he had more reason than ever before to wipe Moore and her creations off the face of the earth.

Lindsay let Noah’s presence and the darkness soothe him into much-needed sleep. Noises from outside woke him again and again, but each time, Noah’s warmth let him drift off again.

If they’d taken Jonas’s collar off completely, Dane wouldn’t have been able to leave. As it was, he couldn’t make himself stay. This wasn’t his city, but he wanted to be out in it. The night was calling him; the scents and sounds would be enough to keep the beast in him from howling at the moon in grief.

Detroit smelled nothing like New York—less organic, more like dankness and iron. The cars were the same, the gunshots were the same, the raised voices were the same, but coming from different directions when he turned to face where the moon would be if the clouds would part. He breathed in and caught the faint taste of fresh water.

The empty wind blew sweeter, the closer he came to the water’s edge, then pushed the clouds apart to let the moon through. Every time it touched his face or tickled his ear, he turned into it, listening, before his rational mind could remind his instinct that there was no one there. Maybe if he’d stayed indoors, he would have had a little longer before he had to deal with it.

On a bridge, he stopped and leaned on the railing, staring down into the black water. It felt like he was still missing his magic, like he’d been shot through the chest and it wouldn’t heal.

He couldn’t waste time feeling like this. Cyrus would tell him to stop playing at being human, tell him that he didn’t have the luxury of regret. He’d done too much wrong to afford it.

He pushed away from the rail and kept going to lose himself in the soft, domesticated forest of an island that was a physical manifestation of relief from the grinding jaw of the city. His bare feet took him

Trammel

down toward the water. He had no idea where his shoes had gone, only hoped he’d had the intelligence to take them off before he left the house.

The lake, striated with moonlight and shadows, washed up against a narrow stripe of beach. The wind was full in his face and he made himself breathe.

Get used to it
.
It’s not going to change.
He’d come back from death, but it was too late for Cyrus.

He’d seen the dead raised after the fact—it didn’t make them less dead. Cyrus would slap him for it anyway.

At first he thought he was hearing an owl in the trees, but the wings came closer and he could hear the serrated edge of them biting through the air, eating up distance. His mind argued with itself about what could or couldn’t be coming his way. A shadow blocked out the stars and the moon, wheeling about overhead and erasing all the answers but one.

Dane sat on a stone and waited. When the wings fell silent, he heard the faint sound of bare feet and the hem of a robe on the sand.

Ezqel.
Dane waited for whatever it was the old fae mage had come to say, even if he didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Cyrus knew what he was doing.” Dane tried to keep his tone flat, but the clench of his throat betrayed him. He hadn’t expected Ezqel to give a damn one way or the other.

“Not for that. For the other. For what was done to you.”

That was even less expected. Dane stared out at the water, waiting for it to turn to blood, or for the moon to fall into it with a small
plink
. Neither came to pass, but everything was echoingly silent, as though the entire world had stopped what it was doing to watch. Ezqel sat beside him, not looking at him, long white hands folded in his lap.

“You were right to leave me,” Ezqel went on. “It was not my place to discipline you for doing what needed to be done, no matter what promises you broke. Cyrus was right to call you home.”

“How do you know?” Dane didn’t want an apology just because something had pricked the dried flesh of Ezqel’s heart. Ezqel had cursed him without conscience for leaving his place as Ezqel’s apprentice.

Ezqel was ill-accustomed to being refused, then and now. Only Dane’s magic had saved him from the full force of Ezqel’s wrath—half a lifetime crippled had been a light sentence for rejecting one of the fae.

“Everything is as it should be,” Ezqel said simply. Dane saw more than heard the shrug of one shoulder. “It would not have been, otherwise.”

That hurt Dane more than when Lindsay had told him Cyrus was dead. Cyrus dying was the most wrong thing Dane could imagine. Even losing Lindsay, he could understand, but his mind had no way to bend that would allow it to understand losing Cyrus.

“You came all the way from Germany to tell me that?” Dane made his hands unclench before the blood from his claws cutting through his palms stained his clothes. He got up and went down to wash his hands in the lake. He could imagine Ezqel taking the time to come and hurt him this much.