5' 8"-5' 9"
Noah was drowning in emotional chaos as thick as the blackness of the ocean floor. He stared up at the sky, at the pale stars, just like Ethan had told him to. And he smoked, also just like Ethan had told him to. The words written on the cigarette were burning away, letter by letter, but that didn't bring the calm he'd been hoping for. The smoke curled around him in the still evening air, seeping into his clothes and hair with that heavy tobacco smell. The post-performance apathy, thanks to Ethan's little surprise, had first shifted into something like sweet anticipation… but now it was mutating into something anxious. A weight settled on Noah's chest and started pressing down, making it hard to take a normal drag. Every heartbeat came with a dull thud of pain. Every breath, laced with nicotine and the chill of October, was followed by a twitchy shiver. Too many clashing emotions had been raging inside him lately. Raw, contradictory feelings were twisting into a single, tight knot somewhere deep in his gut. Something about the situation was wrong. It gnawed at him, pulling his nerves like fresh guitar strings that were stretched too tight.
Noah flinched when he felt a soft kiss just below his navel. Then he instinctively pressed himself back against the cold wall as Ethan's warm breath slid even lower.
No.
It shouldn't go this way.
Noah had a pretty good idea where Ethan stood on all this. And Morgan wasn't okay with it. Rewriting memories with sex? That was a shitty trick. Cruel, mostly to yourself.
"I don't want this," Noah exhaled, barely audible, the smoke dissolving into the night. It was only half a lie. But even half was enough to make him say it out loud.
"Mmm?" came Ethan's confused murmur from down below.
"I said I don't want this," Noah repeated, forcing the words out. Of course he wanted it. But not like this: not here, not now, not under these circumstances.
"Morgan, you literally have a boner…"
"So what if I am?" Noah snapped. "I still don't want it," He grabbed Ethan by the hoodie and yanked him up off his knees in one sharp, no-nonsense pull.
"Damn it, I've told you not to do that!" Thomson bristled instantly. "I'm not some damn preschooler—you don't get to haul me around by the hood!" he hissed, not only being irritated by the move Noah had pulled with his hoodie.
"Sorry," Noah muttered, quickly zipping up his pants. It wasn't the easiest thing to do with his body still reacting the way it was.
The dark alley was filled with ringing silence. Even the bass thumping from the bar had faded into nothing under the weight of the silence between Morgan and Thomson. The tension that had snapped into place sucked the sound out of the air, like someone had stuffed his ears with wax. For a second, Noah thought he'd made a mistake he couldn't take back—and that no one, ever, would be able to break this silence.
"What the hell?"
…Except maybe Ethan.
Thomson frowned, trying to mask total confusion with irritation, like he had no clue what he'd done wrong. His brain was probably spinning through a list of reasons that had nothing to do with the real one, so Morgan stepped in quickly to explain:
"I don't want to end up in the same mental box as the people you're trying to forget. What's happening right now is an impulse, and I don't think your head's ready for it," he said quietly.
"My head's just fucking fine," Ethan growled. He might as well have taken a spray can and written on the wall of the bar, 'I'm not okay. Please help.'
"Ethan…"
"You've been pissed all day because you never got your satisfaction!" Thomson shot back angrily.
And now Noah felt like an asshole.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me," Ethan scoffed, looking away. "Let's go." There was something hopeless in the way he said it. Like Noah turning him down had ended something that mattered to him.
Thomson started walking toward the bar door, still burning with emotion. Maybe Noah should've let him go. Or maybe…
"I'm not done with my cigarette," Noah said softly, wondering if Ethan would even bother waiting after that hit to his pride.
Thomson stopped with a quiet click of his tongue. He turned back but kept his glance away.
"Hurry up. It's cold," he said dryly. But the cold wasn't the reason. Was he… embarrassed? The always-so-sure-of-himself Thomson didn't seem to know what to do with himself now, huh? Interesting.
"If you're cold, you don't have to wait," Noah said quietly. He didn't want Ethan to leave. But he didn't know how to knock down the wall that had gone up between them, either. For a second, he even thought maybe he shouldn't try. But that thought barely lasted a moment. Of course he should! Ethan lived like he was always walking a razor's edge. Maybe that kept him sharp—but what if, one day, he slipped? Not everything could be solved by acting on impulse. Hell, almost nothing could!
"I'll decide what the hell I want to do," Ethan snapped, fuming. But the bite in his words didn't land. For some reason, right now, Noah just saw a pissed-off kid who didn't get the candy he wanted. It was more endearing than anything else.
My dick's not that great to be so upset over not getting to blow me.
"Why are you so angry?" Noah couldn't help but ask. "It's not like you would've gotten anything out of it."
"I would've gotten moral satisfaction."
"Maybe I'm not okay with the fact that you're always the one getting just moralsatisfaction," Noah muttered, lighting up his second cigarette. "You don't even let me touch you."
"I'm just looking out for you."
"I don't need that kind of looking out. Don't shield me from you. Did it ever occur to you that maybe it matters to me that you feel good when we're together too?"
"I already do feel fucking good with you."
"Yeah. Morally," Noah shot back sarcastically.
"I'm fine with the way things are."
"Well, I'm not," Noah said firmly. "If you told me you were asexual and just not into sex—fine, I'd get it. But I see you, Ethan. You turn on every freaking time! And then you leave! You keep that whole part of your life off-limits to me."
"You know why."
"I do."
"You were warned."
"I was."
"And you were okay with it."
"I was okay with not rushing things. That's how I understood the boundaries when we started. You needed time, so we agreed not to push it. But this... this is something else, isn't it?" Noah smirked, getting angrier with every sentence.
"And what exactly is this 'something else' you're talking about?"
Does Ethan really not get it?
"Maybe the fact that when people take it slow, they... I don't know... settle for hugs? And kisses? Like, they ease into it, right? They get a little more comfortable with each other every time, figuring out how much of each other's skin they can handle, one inch at a time? Or something like that..."
"And?"
Jesus Christ. Does he really not get it?!
"Don't you think we're, like, not exactly doing that?"
"No. I don't."
Ethan really doesn't get it…
"So it's not you who keeps throwing dirty hints at me 24/7?"
"That's just flirting."
Just flirting?! Right. Sure.
"And it's not you sending me selfies wearing just a towel?"
"Should I have sent them without one?"
"And it's not you looking at me every time like—"
"Like what?"
Noah ran both hands through his hair, completely exasperated.
"And obviously it's not you who's already touched me in literally every place possible! You've had your hands all over me. EVERYWHERE! The only thing left is shoving your fingers up my ass!"
"That can be arranged."
"SEE?! YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN!" Noah threw up his arms. "I'm not some sex-crazed maniac!"
"No one's saying you are—"
"But you, asshole, you do everything so I can't think about anything else! You keep me in this constant state of sexual frustration! YOU'RE A WALKING SEX SUBLIMATION!"
"Oh."
"THAT'S NOT A FUCKING COMPLIMENT!"
"What is it, then, if not that?" Ethan tried to keep a straight face, but failed miserably. The vacuum of silence popped, and the noise of the city came crashing down on Noah from all sides. His temples were pounding with rage.
"What am I, a toy? Or some kind of experiment?"
"Morgan, what kind of bullshit are you even talking about right now?"
"Do you just create this whole…vibe, and then sit back and watch how I react?! Every damn time!"
"Oh, come on, what's the problem?! Don't I always—"
"Yeah! You do! And I don't!"
"Don't you like it, though?"
"I FUCKING LOVE IT!"
"Then what the hell do you want from me?!"
"Not FROM you! I want YOU!" Morgan practically yelled, already sure Ethan wasn't going to understand him anyway.
Ethan chewed on his lower lip, deep in thought.
"So what are you suggesting?" he asked more quietly after a pause. The longest goddamn pause of Noah's life.
"Let's run away."
"To where?"
"To your car."
"Oh..."
"What? Are you scared?"
"Please..."
"And you'll let me actually do something."
A nervous, breathy laugh slipped out of Ethan.
"So, you are scared, huh?"
"No."
"There's another option. If just the thought of me touching you makes you uncomfortable, fine. I get that. I respect that. But I'm done playing this one-sided game. Do you want to set limits for yourself? Cool. Then I'm setting some of my own. That's fair. So we'll go home, I'll make us some mint tea, and we'll sit down and watch Pirates of the Caribbean."
That was Noah's way of trying to say it wasn't so much the lack of physical contact that was getting to him—it was the fact that Ethan was always giving him something, while he had no way to give anything back. The imbalance in their relationship was becoming more and more obvious, and it scared Morgan. He was afraid that one day it would become the thing that broke them. He could be pissed all he wanted about being physically frustrated—that wasn't the end of the world. But mutual effort, a sense of fairness—that mattered to him a lot.
"…Alright, let's go," Ethan sighed, grabbing Noah by the wrist and tugging him along. Morgan winced slightly. The rope burns were still sore.
"I'm telling you you're going to love the movie!" Noah promised to Ethan.
"We're not going to watch a fucking movie! Jesus, Morgan," Ethan hissed, picking up the pace.
"Oh…" That was all Noah managed to get out, mostly because he'd completely forgotten one tiny little detail: he didn't really know what to do beyond kissing. He'd been so fired up about fighting for his right to touch Ethan, he'd managed to forget that he had zero experience past that point. So now what? Back out a minute after making a whole dramatic speech? Damn… Every move Ethan made just screamed confidence. Like Thomson had no doubts about anything. Meanwhile, Noah had left his entire sense of bravado somewhere back on the walk to the car. It felt so embarrassing!
The parking lot was mostly empty. A small group was laughing near the bar entrance, but that was it. Ethan opened the car door and gestured to Noah to get in the back seat. Morgan slid in, still busy thinking of some kind of plan. He couldn't just take Ethan's pants off, right? There had to be—what's it called—foreplay? Then, right on cue, came another realization: he sucked at taking the lead! An uninvited kiss on the cheek was one thing, but this… this was something entirely different.
Ethan got in the car right after him, shutting the door with a solid thud. The sound made Noah flinch. He clenched his fists in his lap. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do – what was he supposed to do – what was he supposed to do?!
For a while, they both just sat there, frozen.
"So weren't you the one who was fucking dying to make a move?" Ethan asked, visibly nervous himself. Yeah. This definitely wasn't turning out to be some steamy blockbuster scene where two people are finally alone and instantly fall into a passionate kiss and tear each other's clothes off.
"Uh… right… yeah… I'm just… waiting for your permission," Noah muttered, trying to keep his heart from punching through his chest.
Ethan raised his left eyebrow to make it clear he wasn't buying Morgan's nonsense.
"I dragged you into the car. I sat down next to you. Doesn't it count as permission?" Ethan asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Well, you didn't say it out loud."
"Should we draw up a contract and get it notarized while we're at it?"
"If that's what you need."
"Idiot," Thomson muttered under his breath, absently fiddling with the tunnel in his left ear. "…Fine. I give you my permission," he added awkwardly. "Do you want me to hand over a user manual or something?"
That'd be great!
"Don't bother," Noah muttered, shifting uneasily in his seat. Morgan kept his eyes locked on Ethan but still couldn't bring himself to actually get some action. Thomson looked strung. His blond hair was messed up, and his skin was nearly glowing in the dim light of the parking lot. The air in the car felt like it was humming from the tension.
"If you're trying to fuck me with your eyes, it's not working," Ethan said flatly. He was clearly unimpressed with how the whole thing was playing out. Not to mention the massive wave of awkwardness now hanging between them.
Of course it's not working! I'm not you!
"I don't get the point of doing something if you clearly don't even want to," Ethan grumbled.
Noah started getting mad.
"What the hell do you mean, 'don't want to'?!" Noah snapped. "Me being awkward doesn't mean I don't want it. It just means I'm scared of screwing it up."
"So your solution is to do absolutely nothing?" Thomson smirked, which only pissed Noah off more. "I'm scared of screwing up all the time. It doesn't stop me." Noah couldn't tell if that was meant to provoke him or reassure him. Just in case, he decided to react in both ways—and got mad at both Ethan and himself. At Ethan, for making fun of him. At himself, for being so nervous about taking the first step. It was obvious Ethan wasn't going to humiliate him or shoot down his every move.
Morgan gave Ethan a long, weighted stare. Thomson slipped back into that relaxed, totally unbothered look, like Morgan hadn't just made a huge, emotionally loaded offer and that he could've been touching him freely this whole time if he'd just had the guts. But the second Noah leaned in, Ethan subtly shifted toward the car door. Ah. So they were both nervous. Strangely, that actually made Morgan feel better.
After thinking for a second, Noah adjusted his position, trying to give himself more room to actually do something. The key here was staying alert. If anything about Ethan's reaction felt off, he'd stop immediately.
Noah turned toward Ethan, planting one knee on the seat. Thomson was still trying to play it cool, if not bored. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn't thrown in a dramatic yawn just to completely throw Morgan off. The only things that gave him away were his clenched fingers and the way his right shoulder was pressed hard into the car door.
"I swear, Morgan, I'll turn old before you…"
That's when Noah figured out why he was hesitating. It was because Ethan was sitting all wrong. Twisted like that, he wasn't really reachable. That needed to be fixed. So when Thomson opened his mouth, Noah grabbed him by the belt and pulled Ethan sideways and flat onto his back. That got his attention. The fake-bored expression dropped instantly, replaced with a flicker of something a lot closer to panic. Noah's knee landed right between Ethan's legs. There. Much better.
Thomson opened his mouth, probably ready to toss out another sarcastic line, which was his go-to defense mechanism, but Noah didn't let him get that far. The last thing he wanted was for Ethan to kill the mood with some smart-ass remark. So he leaned in and kissed him. It was rushed and messy and a little clumsy, even. It reminded Noah of his very first kiss: that weird mix of nerves and panic, where he had no clue what he was doing and was terrified he'd somehow screw it up. Lips were brushing like a razor blade. And that sharp exhale after, like it should've drawn blood, but didn't. People always talked about their first kiss like it was this magical, unforgettable moment. A stunning feeling! Morgan, on the other hand, remembered this moment mostly as a cocktail of anxiety, awkwardness, and paralyzing fear. And now? Right now, with Ethan? He was just as scared, maybe even more. That first kiss happened in a dark gazebo on one of the spring nights. This time, the fact that it was Ethan and not some other person, and that he was actually his boyfriend, didn't make the situation feel better. That thought alone made everything actually worse. Because now Noah actually had something to lose! He could lose Ethan! Morgan was dying of the fear he could make a mistake. That was why his hands were jumpy, his movements awkward, and the whole thing just… clumsy.
Luckily, Ethan didn't leave him hanging. He kissed back immediately. Unluckily, he also tried to take full control of the situation—of course he did. It was freaking Thomson, after all.
Noah had never kissed anyone like him before. Guys from school had kissed him gently: hesitant lips, nervous tongue, and soft touches that made him feel safe. Like it was all meant to be sweet and slow and just romantic enough to feel special. The same was with the boy from the lake that one summer. Even Matthew Coleman was a soft kisser. All tender, romantic, and cautious, but a little too shallow. Ethan was something else entirely. There was nothing soft about the way he kissed. If there was any tenderness at all, it barely lasted a second before it turned into something rougher: teeth, pressure, a kind of intensity Noah hadn't known existed. Every kiss felt like a match being struck too close to gunpowder. Like one wrong move could blow the whole thing up. However, the reason for such behavior wasn't because Ethan wanted to make Noah hurt or show him his place. It felt more like desperation, like he'd been dying of thirst and had finally found a water source, and now he couldn't drink fast enough. His arousal came together with this complete loss of control. The loss of control made the desire even harder to resist. And that desire filled up everything around them, pushing out any thought that wasn't about the heat between them. That's what it felt like. But it wasn't surprising anymore, because Noah had realized a long time before that this kind of all-or-nothing behavior was just who Ethan was. If it was school, he threw himself into it headfirst. If it was an argument, it ended in screaming matches in the middle of the street. If it was grief… it turned into a pain so deep it didn't let up for years. Ethan never did things halfway. It was always the edge of the cliff or nothing.
…And this kiss was no different.
Noah could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Ethan had one arm around his neck; the fingers of the other were tangled in his hair. His grip said more than words ever could about how tightly he was holding on, how much this meant to him. And damn, it felt good to know someone cared about you like that, that it mattered to them who was kissing them. That it was actually you and your lips were kissing his.
Ethan held Noah by the back of the head like he was afraid he'd pull away. But that wasn't in Noah's plans. Without breaking the kiss, he slid his hand under Ethan's hoodie and t-shirt. His fingers, cold against warm skin, made Ethan flinch. The hand that had been cradling Noah's neck suddenly yanked at his hair. And just like that, Ethan was the one who broke the kiss, forcing Noah's head up. Noah was ready to snap that it actually hurt, but then he caught Ethan's stare. And whatever smart-ass remark just died in his throat. In the half-lit parking lot, Ethan's eyes looked pitch black. His lips were still wet from the kiss. His hand was still tangled in Noah's hair, and Noah hadn't moved his hand from under Ethan's hoodie either. They were stuck like that, staring each other down for what was probably only a few seconds, but to Noah, it felt endless.
"…O-okay. Fine," Ethan rasped out at last.
"We can still go home and watch a movie," Noah offered—not so much to show compassion as to mess with him a little. Predictably, Thomson didn't look pleased after that.
"I said 'fine'," he muttered through gritted teeth, pulling Noah's head back down, clearly aiming for another kiss. But Morgan didn't go along with it. He planted one hand firmly against the leather seat, shifting his weight onto it, and held his ground by pressing down even harder. No way was Ethan dragging him back into that practically horizontal position again. Just because he'd said 'fine' didn't mean things were fine. Noah needed to read his reactions better, and in order to do that, he needed to see his face, which didn't exactly work while kissing.
Noah's hand slid higher across Ethan's stomach, toward his solar plexus. The look on Ethan's face flickered. It was somewhere between annoyance, confusion, and… embarrassment?
Noah's fingertips picked up on Thomson's heartbeat. It was racing. And somehow, that rhythm shot straight through Noah's skin to his whole body.
"Can you not stare at me like that while you're doing this?" Ethan managed, sounding like it took actual effort. Hah! Like Ethan hadn't been the one staring first!
"I haven't actually done anything yet," Noah pointed out, his voice dropping without him meaning to.
"That's not nothing," Ethan snapped. Noah, meanwhile, was trying to figure out his next move. Should he keep going? Ethan didn't exactly look comfortable. But stopping now… What if he was misreading Thomson's reactions? It was hard to tell unless he kept going just a little further, purely for research purposes.
He grabbed the edge of Ethan's hoodie and t-shirt and yanked them up in one swift motion. Well… Ethan being insanely attractive wasn't news to him. But seeing it up close and even touching it was a whole different experience. Noah didn't even notice he was holding his breath until he caught himself just staring at Thomson, like this was the first male torso he'd ever seen in his life. A ridiculously hot torso, for the record.
Not like mine…
The thought shot through his brain like a comet, but he shook it off. This wasn't the time for self-pity; his boyfriend deserved his full attention. And as a challenge to himself, Morgan tugged off his own shirt and tee. Ethan didn't say anything, but his eyes definitely approved. And as self-conscious as Noah usually felt about how skinny he was, under that steady gray gaze, he actually felt okay. More than okay.
Thomson wasn't bothered by Noah's naked body; it was the opposite… Morgan felt that by what his knee, now casually resting between Ethan's legs, was picking up. It was a pretty clear signal.
He leaned down past Ethan's mouth and pressed a kiss to his neck just below the ear. Ethan made a noise, a little puff of air through his nose, that immediately reminded Noah of a sneezing kitten. Of course, he said it out loud.
"That was an attack on my libido. One more word like that and it's gone. Dead. Forever," Ethan growled through clenched teeth, cheeks flushed. His body, though, was still radiating heat. Now, with less clothing between them, Noah could feel it even more. There was a faint tremor in his voice. And maybe this was the fun part of being the one in control: doing whatever popped into your head just to see what your partner would do in response. And Ethan was definitely exaggerating. His libido was doing just fine.
Suppressing a laugh, Noah shifted his attention to Ethan's chest and slowly started trailing kisses downward. The awkwardness of having no idea what to do was slowly fading, soothed by Thomson's subtle, almost imperceptible reactions. Besides, Morgan had finally realized they were actually in the same boat. Ethan didn't really know what he was doing either—at least not when it came to being in the receiving position. Had he ever even been in a serious relationship before Noah? Had he ever been close to someone he actually cared about? The answer was obvious. Not even close. Sure, Thomson had physical experience, but not the emotional kind. And right here, in the backseat of the car, he was about to open a whole new world for himself.
Noah kept going, inching lower, stealing glances at Ethan's face, trying to read his mind. Whatever had been swirling around in Thomson's head before seemed to vanish the second Noah's lips touched the skin just above his waistband. Ethan flinched and, for some reason, stared straight ahead at the back of the passenger seat.
"What's suddenly got you so interested?" Noah asked with a teasing grin, unzipping Ethan's jeans. Was he really about to go through with this? Just like that? No hesitation?
"I've got something in my glove box…" Thomson grunted but didn't finish the thought.
"What?"
"Nothing," he cut himself off and pushed himself up onto his elbows to get a better look at Noah. "So, you're about to do the thing you wouldn't let me do?" he asked, sounding more than a little nervous. His whole body was tight, like he was bracing himself for torture. But the look in his eyes screamed, 'Stop stalling and do it.'
"Do you mind?"
The new round of silent staring was even worse than the first one. It's kind of hard to keep a straight face when you're literally one inch away from someone else's dick. But, once again, Ethan was the first to break.
"...F-fine," he muttered, dropping back onto the seat with a deep sigh, like he was agreeing to work overtime, not getting a blowjob.
"I can stop if you don't—
"Oh, so now you're telling me that you're about to reject me twice on this wonderful night?!" Ethan snapped, sounding genuinely offended. Maybe he wasn't quite as against it as he liked to pretend. Well then…
Noah had never gone this far before. In fact, until pretty recently, the whole idea of oral sex made his skin crawl. Every time he heard another story about who blew whom in what car, he promised himself he'd never go there. Never. But with Ethan, 'never' had quietly turned into 'only with him.'
"Morgan! Fucking watch the teeth!"
"Thorry."
"Don't talk with my dick in your mouth!"
"Shit, yeah, my bad… It's my first time."
"I figured!"
"Thorry…"
"MORGAN!"
Ethan propped himself up on his elbows again, deciding Noah could probably use a little help. Back when all of this was theoretical, Morgan used to think giving your partner tips mid-sex was the most awkward feeling of embarrassment. Then it turned out that actually getting those tips was even worse. Every time Ethan said something like, "gentle," "not so tight," or "use your tongue," Noah wanted to crawl into a hole. But at least he was learning fast, figuring out what Ethan actually liked, and once Thomson went quiet, Noah knew he was finally doing something right. He also realized his choice of position sucked. His back and neck were already killing him a couple of minutes in. But he pushed through and started to actually enjoy himself. There was something about this… an unexpected mix of raw eroticism and the kind of emotional feeling that came from knowing you were turning on someone you were completely head over heels for. There was no moaning. Ethan held it in, biting down on his lower lip. But the ragged, uneven breathing was enough of a guide for Noah to keep going.
"So… Morgan…"
"Mmm?"
"Fuck… wait… st…STOP!" Ethan grabbed Noah's shoulders and pushed him back.
"What's wrong?" Morgan asked, breathless, instinctively licking his lips.
"Nothing," Ethan answered quietly. There was a small bead of blood on his bitten lip.
"Then why did you stop me?"
"I'm… good."
"But you didn't—"
"Almost."
"So maybe I should just fi—" Noah moved his head down again, but Ethan shoved him back by the chest, cutting him off. A second later, Thomson shifted positions, pinning Noah to the car seat instead.
"Hey!"
"We're finishing this another way," Ethan said, pulling off his hoodie but leaving his t-shirt on. It looked like some kind of compromise. Sweat beaded at his hairline. It was definitely getting hot in the car. Noah opened his mouth to point out he didn't have much room to move in this position, but before he could get a word out, Ethan leaned in and dragged his tongue across Noah's lips.
"You're not supposed to kiss after a blowjob," Noah mumbled, covering his mouth with his hand.
"Says who?"
"Pretty much everyone?"
"I don't give a shit," Ethan snorted, brushing his hand away and crashing their mouths together. Noah didn't stand a chance. He gave in, kissing back like his life depended on it, and mentally shelved any arguments for later. He only came back to his senses when Ethan's hands found his zipper.
"Hey, hold on a sec!" Morgan was alarmed. "We agreed I'd be the one taking the lead tonight!" he huffed, indignant.
"You already took plenty of initiative."
"Yeah, but I'm not done yet!"
"We'll finish together," Ethan said, unbuttoning Noah's jeans.
"Nope! Not happening!" Morgan held his ground. "I'm doing this myself!"
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"Relax."
"Ha…"
Thomson planted both hands on the car seat and leaned over Noah. His dark gray eyes were examining Morgan's flushed face.
"Is everything okay?" Noah decided to check.
"Yes."
Morgan's hand slid down. His fingers brushed against the damp heat of Ethan's arousal. Thomson flinched.
"How about now?"
"Morgan, quit asking questions! This is already fucking embarrassing!" Ethan growled. His usually pale face was now pink. The bite mark on his lip was still vivid.
"You didn't seem embarrassed when you jerked me off," Noah reminded him, barely holding back a laugh. Oh, the rush of power, it was intoxicating and addictive!
"Just shut the fuck up," Ethan hissed and kissed him hard to shut him up. Morgan let out a muffled sound of protest. Not that he minded the kissing, but it definitely wasn't helping, since trying to focus on two things at once was not Noah's strong suit.
He tried to concentrate on his hand, on the heat his palm felt. Then he was trying to concentrate on Ethan's stuttering breath and the rhythm of his heartbeat. But every so often, Ethan would throw him off again with another deep, searing kiss that left him too dazed to do much of anything except follow wherever Thomson's tongue was going.
"Okay, but seriously, the guy sang pretty well."
"Obviously. That throat's had plenty of practice."
"How's that even connected?!"
Noah flinched and froze instinctively. The voices were way too close to Ethan's car. Thomson didn't react at all. Noah turned his head reflexively, dodging another kiss, but Ethan didn't miss a beat and ran his tongue along Noah's throat, then moved lower, toward his collarbone.
"Ethan, wait," Noah whispered. "Someone could see us!"
Thomson suddenly straightened up and stared down at Noah's hand still wrapped around him.
"Why did you stop?" he asked in a rough voice.
"I just said—
"Keep going," Thomson breathed, leaning back in to trail his tongue from Noah's solar plexus up to the sternal notch. Morgan met Ethan's gaze, and one look into those completely dark eyes told him everything: Thomson had fully lost control. It was gone. His movements grew sharper, and his breathing was now rough and shallow.
The voices outside drifted away. Noah let out a quiet breath of relief, but before he could even settle, Ethan yanked him forward, pulling him onto his lap. The situation was getting risky, but not due to the obvious reasons. The real danger was Ethan crashing through one emotional wall after another, diving headfirst into sensation, no longer caring what was going on around them. That kind of surrender was contagious. Noah, caught up in all of it, didn't even notice when Thomson tugged his jeans down. Or when his own arms had somehow ended up around Ethan's neck, giving up the lead without even realizing it. Even the slow drag of fingers across his bare thigh didn't snap him out of it. He only started to come back to himself when he felt the sharp press of skin against his erection. He pulled back from Ethan's kiss and glanced down.
"Wait, are you trying to come on your own face?"
"Maybe I want you to come on my face."
"Pff! What a bold move!" Ethan laughed. "Morgan, you really need to make up your mind. Are you a shy virgin or a testosterone maniac?"
"Those aren't mutually exclusive," Noah said, trying to keep his voice steady. He still tripped over the words a little. His voice was lower now, rougher, and with every phrase, Ethan's arms twitched slightly, tiny goosebumps rising along his skin. Was Thomson really losing his mind just from Noah's voice? Noah promised himself that he'd figure out how to use that to his advantage later. Later, because right now, Ethan, who had been pressing up his penis against Noah's boner for a while, suddenly started moving faster.
A sharp moan escaped Noah's mouth before he could stop it. He slapped both hands over his face and looked around in a panic. Did anyone hear that? Did anyone see?
"Focus," Ethan said, grabbing him by the chin and turning his face roughly back toward him.
"We're playing with fire," Noah muttered. Trying to pull back now, when he was practically rubbing himself against Ethan, it felt beyond absurd, but he was at least trying.
"Pretty sure fire's not the thing we're playing with right now…"
"Ethan! You know what I mean," Noah hissed, his voice shaking. Forming sentences was getting harder by the second. His brain was drowning in sensation.
"You were the one who suggested it," Ethan pointed out, tightening his grip.
"Yeah, only because your idea was even riskier!"
"Excuses, excuses," Ethan snorted, picking up the pace.
"That's… not… an excuse," Noah gasped, bracing himself against the backseat behind Ethan. He started rising on his knees, pushing into Thomson's hand with shaky thrusts, pretty much demonstrating that he wanted Ethan to keep going. If Ethan ignored it, the whole thing would change from pleasure into something almost painful. It would be like a sensation that had no chance to be released, so it was burning from the inside.
"It's a nice…final rehearsal," Ethan muttered in response to Noah's movements.
"A… what? What the hell does that mean?" Morgan asked, dazed. He barely registered what he was doing or how it must've looked. The sense of euphoria growing in his head was taking away his filters, pushing him past every boundary he thought he had. In any other situation, there was no way Noah would feel so confident. Now, his body was running the show, not his brain. He pressed his face into Ethan's neck (which took some effort due to their height difference) and just let Thomson take it from there. The direction was clear. The rhythm was right on point. All Noah had to do was sit there, straddling Ethan, and feel every sharp reaction in response to Ethan's touch.
Around 6' 0"
At 1 a.m., Michael suddenly felt a desperate need for coffee. He peeled himself away from the mountain of paperwork upstairs and headed to the kitchen on the first floor.
"Jesus Christ!" he swore under his breath when he found Ethan sitting there. He hadn't even noticed his son coming home, and the surprise nearly gave him a heart attack.
"If your son's Jesus, then who the hell are you?" Ethan smirked from across the table, sitting with a mug of coffee in front of him. Not far from him was a stack of forms Michael recognized immediately. His gaze flicked to the mask resting on the table too, and, for once, Ethan didn't rush to put it on when his dad walked in.
It was a noticeable progress! And who was responsible for that? Tulsi? Morgan? Both? Michael just hoped this wasn't a temporary improvement. He hoped Ethan was genuinely getting better.
"It's a way too deep question for one o'clock in the morning," Michael said as he poured himself a cup from the ibrik. Sure, they had a fancy coffee machine at home, but every now and then, Ethan preferred making it by hand the Turkish way. On special occasions.
"How long have you been back for?" Michael figured he'd start from a safe distance.
"For about half an hour."
"How was your day?"
"Not bad."
Michael sat down across from Ethan and couldn't help glancing at the mask on the table again.
"Did something good happen?"
"Something good happens to me every day now," Ethan said, exhaling. There was no sarcasm, just the kind of flat tone someone might use to announce a death sentence.
"Noah's been a good influence on you."
"I wish he would influence me even more," Ethan muttered, slowly turning his half-empty mug in circles.
"Everything in its own time."
"Well, time's up."
"Then what's taking you so long? Looks like you're ready," Michael said, nodding toward the stack of papers.
"Nothing. I'm just…waiting."
"Waiting for what? I've seen the way he looks at you."
"I'm not waiting for Morgan. I'm waiting for the backfire," Ethan took a sip and sighed heavily. "Tonight we had kind of like…"
"Sex?" Michael offered, not even bothering to hide the interest. He wasn't one to obsess over his son's sex life, but the emotional undercurrents… That was a different story.
"Not-real-sex," Ethan tried to find the term.
"There's no such thing," Michael chuckled.
"Light petting, then?" Ethan snorted. "Anyway, we were definitely way too close for it to mean nothing. I had my hand on both my dick and h—
"Ethan, I don't need to hear every detail," Michael cut in quickly. Ethan just rolled his eyes.
"So now I'm sitting here, checking in with myself. Waiting for the backfire."
"And?"
"Strangely enough, I feel… nothing," Ethan said with a shrug. "I'm not nauseous. There's no panic attack. I'm not even fighting the urge to sneak over to Morgan's place in the middle of the night to check his pulse."
"Well, that's great! Sounds like you've got your answer. Go for it."
"That's not the only thing on my mind."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, stared up at the ceiling, and let out a long, tired sigh.
"Now that I've realized I'm ready to go further, a whole new issue popped up," he said, shifting his gaze to his cooling coffee. "It's just that…" another sigh. "I can't… I mean… I'm worried about my position when it comes to physical relationships."
"Did you two have a disagreement about that or…"
"No, it's not that," Ethan shook his head. "The problem's not Morgan. It's… fuck. The problem is that, in my head, being the one on the bottom sounds like actual hell."
Michael rubbed his temples. For a conversation happening at one a.m., this was somehow even more difficult than the theological debate over what he'd be if Ethan turned out to be God.
"I still don't…"
"I just can't wrap my head around how you're supposed to enjoy that position. That's the issue," Ethan finally managed to get the words out. "And now I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified, you hear me? What if I screw something up? Or don't do something I'm supposed to? What if Morgan ends up hating it? What if he's disappointed? What if he dumps me over it? That'd be it. Game over," he finished. "A fucking game over," he repeated, taking a sip of coffee like he'd just accepted his fate.
"Oooooh," Michael let out. "You didn't waste any time spiraling, huh? These are some professional intrusive thoughts right here."
Ethan let out a dramatic groan, burying his face in his hands. A second later, he flinched and dropped them, staring at the mask on the table. Its absence on his face caught him off guard. He glanced at his dad, then back at the mask. He reached for it and then froze with his hand mid-air.
"I don't want to screw up what we have with awful sex."
"Then do everything you can to make sure that doesn't happen."
"You mean sex?"
"I mean bad experience."
"How?"
Michael finished off the last of his coffee in one swallow.
"You know exactly how."
"If I did, I wouldn't be asking!" Ethan snapped. "I wish Mom were here right now," he burst out suddenly. Michael felt a tight ache in his chest in response. It was the kind of pain an old injury might get when it rains.
"Do you think she knew more about sex than I?" Michael tried to lighten the mood with a joke.
"I would introduce her to Morgan," Ethan said quietly.
"She would like him," Michael smiled.
"Yeah. I know."
Ethan didn't say anything else after that, focusing on whatever was in his head. Michael figured his presence wasn't helping anymore and headed back toward his office. He thought about tossing out something encouraging on his way out, maybe a joke like, "Ethan, judging by the hickey on your neck, I don't think you've got much to worry about," but decided not to. There was a certain charm in that nervous feeling, and it felt wrong to take it from his son.
…Enjoy it while it lasts, Ethan. That kind of anxious thrill doesn't stick around once you become older.