14. Chapter 14
Noah
I wake up with Asher’s hand around my throat.
Yesterday, he cut off my air to the point black dots danced across my vision, but through it all, I felt no fear—only concern over his anger with me.
He seems to calm down whenever he touches me though—that’s why I suggested he do it.
I tend to calm down whenever he touches me, and the outcome is as stark as the morning light seeping through the window.
We fell asleep like this, and we’re still in the same position: me on my back, Asher’s face nuzzling into my shoulder, his arm resting on my chest, and his hand in a light grip around my throat.
I inhale a shaky breath, feeling my throat expand around the hand holding me close, testing the give of it. I shift my hips, just to check, but no hardness is pressing against me this time. I glance down at him, at the part of his face that’s visible through the mess of his blond curls.
His mouth is slightly parted, and he’s drooling a wet patch onto my shoulder.
I smile at that. In sleep, he’s sweet and unassuming.
Awake, his anger can reach such levels that I can do nothing but surrender to it.
I try to tell him the truth at all times, but maybe I shouldn’t have said what I said yesterday, even if it was the truth.
If you won’t, I’ll do it myself.
Taking care of Asher is my only way of clinging to life, as it has been for weeks now.
If I hadn’t found him, I’d be dead by now, and he would too.
In a way, we are each other’s saviors. It might not last forever—I don’t expect it to—but for now, I let myself relax into his embrace, floating away on the feeling that is still so new to me.
I had no idea I’d enjoy it so much: the weight of his hand on my throat.
I feel like a dog rolling over and baring its belly, trusting Asher with this vulnerable part of me.
There’s a special kind of relief in it, surrendering like that, and I figure Asher feels the same.
That there’s relief in having me lie flat on my back and doing to me what he wishes.
He could have fucked me by now, had he pushed for it, but for some reason, he has not. Maybe he’s as unsure as I am, even though he’s not a virgin. Or maybe there are just some lines he won’t cross.
He can choke me, yell at me, crush his lips to mine?…?But no more than that. Maybe?…?if I touched him first this time?…?if I tilted his head and lined up our faces?…?brushed my lips to his just like that, felt them soft and pliant and not curled into a smirk?…?Maybe then?…
“What are you doing?” Asher mumbles, eyes still closed, and I pull back with a start.
“I’m?…?uh?…”
“Were you trying to kiss me or something?” He rubs his sleep-drunk eyes with his wrist, losing his grip on my throat in the process.
“No, I was just—” I was.
“Come here, then,” he mutters. The chain trickles over our bodies as he grips the back of my neck and shifts closer and closer until our lips meet.
Softly at first, his mouth parts against mine, but as our saliva wets the dryness, the kiss turns hot and slick. For the first time, I feel his soft tongue, and I can’t help but moan as it meets mine.
I grip the back of his head, pulling him closer, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, unable to get enough. Morning breath aside, it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt—having his mouth on mine, his breath like a whisper on my tongue, the sharp hiss as he inhales through his nose?…
And just like that, I feel it: his hardness pressing up against my thigh.
I roll toward him with a surge of hunger, lining our bodies up as we lie on our sides, drinking each other in as if we’re parched and starving and finally have found an oasis in the desert, after many days and nights of wandering alone.
I touch his ear, his neck, his cheek, lost in his smooth skin and his wet tongue.
I want to kiss him all over, feel the heat of him everywhere.
I want more of his shaky breaths as I tug his head back and devour his mouth, sloppily and without finesse, but passionately as if I’ve never felt passion, starving as if I’ve never had food.
I can’t believe I have him here, with me, even though I don’t deserve such a thing?…?I’ll never deserve to keep him here, and he deserves to be free?…
“Fuck, Noah, stop,” he gasps, breaking the kiss.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” He looks sheepish. “It’s just?…?a lot. You’re making me really fucking horny.”
I gulp, swallowing hard. “You too.”
“Yeah?” He slides his hand down my body, stopping at the hem of my pants, then traveling past them until he brushes against the tip of my cock outside my pants.
I groan, feeling the urge to hump the air, to increase the friction of his hand, but I force myself to keep still.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “You’re hard.” He drags his palm along the length of my arousal, pressing down on it, licking his lips in concentration. “Wow.” He chuckles. “Yours is pretty big, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble, cheeks heating up. That ache is building between my legs, but simply having Asher’s hand there is relief enough for now.
“Feel mine.” He takes my hand and brings it to his crotch.
Pulse roaring in my ears, I fumble around for a bit before I feel it: his hard length against my palm. I press down harder, bolder, and Asher sucks in a sharp breath as his cock pulses against my hand.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, voice low and rough.
“What?…?what do you want me to?…” Despite the kissing, my mouth is all dry again, affected by the nerves coursing through my body.
Asher sighs. “Can we just?…?keep kissing for a bit?”
I let out a relieved breath. “Yeah.” Things were getting so real so fast, and I still can’t tell if I’m ready to go through with those things. Kissing feels a little more harmless, even though it sets my body on fire.
Asher grips me by the back of the neck again and pulls me in, and as our lips meet, he lets his hand shift to grip my throat instead.
“You like it better like that,” he mumbles against my lips. “Don’t you?”
I give a muffled groan in reply. Without our awareness, our bodies have chased each other and lined themselves up—our arousal united, rubbing and thrusting as one.
It feels like I’m coming apart and being put back together at the same time.
Our bodies fit each other so well; it’s as if they know exactly what to do, even when our minds are lacking.
We keep kissing, bodies hot and entwined, and we keep rocking toward each other, possessed, building up to a crescendo. I grip the small of his back to bring us even closer?…?to reach that final push toward release?…
“Fuck,” Asher groans, eyes pinching closed. “Noah, I?…”
I want to reassure him, but I’m not in a much better state myself—riding on the wave of my orgasm, thrusting and rolling my hips, chasing that feeling and Asher’s heated skin on mine.
Part of me wishes we weren’t clothed, but at the same time, I think being naked would have been too much to handle for us both.
When it’s over, Asher is gasping, catching his breath, and I’m stroking his hair, sliding his locks between my fingertips, in total awe at how soft they feel, and in equal awe of how content I am to just be close to him in this moment.
And even though I might not deserve him—even though our days together may be numbered—for now, we are one.
Later on, I sneak upstairs and into the shower, intending to surprise him with an early breakfast.
In his company, and especially when he treats me the way he did this morning, everything seems okay between us, but in his absence, a slew of doubts creeps in. They well over me like the stream of the shower, washing away the evidence of our coupling.
It wasn’t sex, what we did this morning—not really. At least, I don’t think so. It felt like it though; it felt?…?loving.
My cheeks heat up, and I turn the thermostat way down to compensate for the warmth in my chest and the stirring of heat between my legs.
The last few days, that part of me has been more attentive than ever in my life.
Even when I was a teenager, I have no recollection of it reacting that often and that severely.
All it takes now is the thought of Asher and what we did this morning for my blood to rush to my dick.
I grip it thoughtfully, thinking I’ll just clean myself, but before I know it, the feeling swells, and my touches end up firmer, quicker, more purposeful.
I think of this morning: Asher’s tongue pressed to mine, our bodies united?…?His hand on my throat, squeezing hard as he came, whimpering my name?…
It feels like a compulsion, pleasuring myself to the thoughts of him. It feels wrong, somehow, and I don’t really know why. I can’t continue. I shouldn’t.
I rest a hand on the tile wall and let go of myself, willing the ache to subside. It’s throbbing down there, begging for touch, but I remain stoic as I turn the shower off, dry myself, and set to making breakfast.
I use the last loaf of Auntie’s bread and the last bit of cheese from the fridge. I’ll have to go grocery shopping eventually, but the numbers on my bank account are meager, and there’s no more money coming in.
I never expected I’d need it. I never expected to live this long.
Downstairs, Asher is lying on his side, facing the wall. I’d think he was still sleeping, but when I put the plate of food by the bed, he speaks up.
“Noah?”
“Yeah?”
He turns halfway, and his eyes look reddened, as if he’s been crying. The sight is like a hand squeezing around my heart.
“Goldilocks, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t think?…” He sucks in a shaky breath before he continues, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t think I want to have sex with you. At least?…?not yet. Not with the way we are.”
“The way we are?”
“You know what I mean.” He sits up and starts tugging on his handcuff, agitated. “This. This place.”