23. Chapter 23
Asher
Noah’s been acting weird ever since the night he cut me. I thought it would solve things between us, or at least make me feel better, but the opposite is true.
He tiptoes around me. Does everything I wish in a moment’s notice. He ordered groceries with my card the other day, and now he cooks me whatever I want. It was nice at first, but today, I kind of regret asking him to make lasagna, because it means I’ll be spending all that time upstairs.
I pull restlessly on my fingers as I wait for Noah to finish cooking, glancing out at the oppressive sunlight of the yard outside the window.
“I don’t want to be up here, Noah. Let’s go downstairs.”
“I know,” he says. “I just need to finish this. We can eat downstairs.”
“Fine.”
As soon as we’ve plated the food, we descend the stairs once more and eat dinner in bed, quietly chatting about unrelated stuff. At times like these, our relationship seems normal, but the thing is, it can’t ever be normal, and there’s no use in trying to wrangle it into something it’s not.
Not being normal isn’t necessarily bad, but I figure one of the ways to make it better is communication. I have to at least try.
“What’s going on with you?” I ask. Our food is finished, the plates empty—or at least, mine is. Noah is a slow eater.
He licks his lips and looks at me, eyebrows raised in question.
“You’ve been acting weird lately,” I explain. “Weirder than usual.”
“Weird how?”
“You’re quieter. You won’t top me, even when I ask you to.” I pull my legs up, hugging my knees. “Are you freaking out about the knife thing?”
Noah shakes his head.
“Then what?”
“I want?…” He closes his mouth. Opens it again, frowning. Finally, he sets his plate aside and says, “I want you to feel safe with me, Asher.”
My mouth tightens. So that’s what this is about—my confession about not feeling safe around him. I never knew it would affect him this much. If I knew, I never would’ve said it.
I suppose, in some sense, we needed to have that conversation though—and this one, and every one hereafter, if this thing between us is going to have any kind of chance to work out. And I want it to work out. I don’t want anything more.
I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to stop my desires to hurt him, and I don’t even know if I want to stop them. There are some things that might never be fixed, like the way we started. The way Noah imprisoned me and made me feel worse than I ever have in my life. Humiliated. Powerless.
I think I deserve to remedy that somehow—at least try—and if I can make us feel good in the process, why not? As long as I don’t go too far. As long as it still feels good for us both.
I think Noah wants it, same as me. I think he recognizes that, at some level, he owes me this. He owes me to let me do some fucked-up things to him, and I think he likes it too. It doesn’t need to be bad, right? It just is. It’s all we can manage for now.
“That’s what you want, huh?” I mumble. “For me to feel safe around you?”
“Yes. More than anything.”
I slip a finger into my mouth to dig out a stray piece of food stuck in a molar. “Well, how are you going to manage that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is that why you haven’t fucked me since that night?” Which has been annoying, to say the least. It’s like I discovered the wonders of bottoming only for it to peter out into nothing.
Noah nods. “Yes. That’s why.”
“Is that why you’re giving me everything I point at?”
He looks at me strangely. “Are you talking about the cooking?”
“Yeah.”
“I always liked to feed you what you wanted. That hasn’t changed.”
“Not true,” I say, flashing a grin. “You’re not feeding me your dick.”
He blinks. “I?…”
“You think I won’t feel safe with you if you fuck me?”
“I’m?…” His shoulders slump. “I’m trying all I can, Asher.” And he sounds so sad, so utterly miserable, that I can’t help but comfort him.
“It’s okay. You’re doing good, Noah.”
Never mind that I don’t care about feeling safe or not.
In a way, I even like feeling unsafe. I need that thrill to feel alive, that rush of complicated feelings I can only channel into sex.
I used to be an opioid addict, for fuck’s sake, and not that long ago either.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that I’m not quite right in the head.
I need things other people don’t, or else I get so restless I want to crawl out of my own skin. Who cares about feeling safe when I can get rid of that feeling by being with Noah? Being with Noah is the only way I can even imagine a sober life.
He might kill himself if I leave him, and likewise, I might kill myself with drugs if we’re ever torn apart.
We need this. We need each other.
Noah glances at the wall, at the chain hanging there like a constant reminder. I remember the weight of it around my wrist, the oppressive chill of the metal, and I shiver.
“What if?…?you use it on me?” he suggests.
“What? The chain?”
“Yeah. What if you tied me up so I can’t get loose, and then you?…?um?…”
“Fuck you?”
“Yeah.”
“I can do better than that,” I say with a smirk, loving this idea. “What if I stretch you wide on my fingers first? What if I can get them all inside, all the way to my wrist?” I splay my hand toward the faint light of the window, spreading my fingers wide.
He inhales a breath. “Would?…?that work?”
I shrug. “I’ve seen it done in porn before. It’ll work. Besides, you’re always so good when I fuck you. I think you can take it. I think you’ll like it, in fact.”
He swallows thickly. “Will it make you feel safe with me?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to try.”
Noah swallows, and I delight in the uncertainty flitting across his face. Just as I’m sure he’ll shake his head and decline, he nods. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Fuck yeah. Our eyes meet, our hands meet, and I entwine my fingers with his.
“You cleaned yourself out, right? When you took a shower?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” I lick my lips. “Where are the padlocks?”
“There.” Noah points to an old dresser in the corner.
I rise from the bed and saunter up to it, fetching two padlocks and the accompanying keys. “How do you want it?”
“You choose.”
Noah lies on his back, and I straddle him, grabbing both his wrists and chaining them to the bedpost. His restraints are tighter than mine ever were, and instead of having one wrist free, he’s completely helpless.
I lean back and look at him, at his naked torso heaving with anticipation, arousal, and maybe even fear.
“You’re betting a lot on me not running, aren’t you?” I mumble, cupping his cheek.
His jaw clenches tight. “I?…”
“Shh. I won’t run. You think there’s anything out there more exciting than this?” I smirk down at him, at my former captor, now completely and utterly at my mercy—by his choice, no less. “Turn around,” I tell him, and I crawl off his body to settle instead between his legs.
Noah does as I say, glancing over his shoulder as I remove his boxer briefs. This is going to require a lot of lube, I’m sure. I take the bottle and pour some onto my fingers, rubbing them together before I let them circle his hole.
“Are you sure you can take me like this, Noah?”
“No,” he replies. “But I’ll do it.”
I press a finger inside him, stretching him out as if I’m about to fuck him, but today, I’m about to do something different. As usual, he does good with two fingers, but at three, I feel him trembling and tensing up underneath me.
“Shh. Let me inside you, Noah. Let me feel you.”
“I-I’m trying?…”
“Just relax, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” I know this sort of thing can cause permanent damage if I’m not careful. Just like with the cutting, this was my idea, and it’s my responsibility.
With my other hand, I grab his cock from underneath his body and stroke it slowly, not wanting him to come just yet.
With three fingers inside him, he rocks his hips back, relaxing.
I keep him like that for a while before I try to add another.
He whimpers when I do it, gazing back at me with flushed cheeks.
“Are you starting to change your mind, baby?” I tut. “If so, you know what word to say.”
“N-No?…?It feels good.”
“Well, in that case.” I turn my wrist, feeling his hole tense around my fingers as I press them inside—all four of them. There’s an obscene squelching sound as I pull them out, only to plunge them back inside.
“Fuck,” he gasps, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He trembles all over.
“Good?”
“Yeah. Yeah?…”
I lean in and kiss his ass cheek. “You’re being so good for me, Noah. So good.”
I spend a fair amount of time stretching him out, and he moans through all of it.
My thumb is next, and by that time, he’s so relaxed it slips in easily.
My breath heightens in anticipation as my knuckles push past his opening, and just like that, I’m all the way inside, his hole swallowing my fist.
“Holy fucking shit, Noah.”
He moans wordlessly in reply, body trembling, back covered in sweat.
“Does that feel good?” I ask.
“Y-Yes.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, amazed at how that soft heat encloses my hand and how his hole stretches all the way around my wrist.
“You’re doing so well, Noah. Letting me so deep inside.” When I withdraw, he gives a little yelp as my hand reaches the widest part, and his hole struggles to open around my knuckles. I pull out my hand entirely and squeeze more lube into my palm.
Damn, we’re almost out. There’s just enough to coat my hand in it once more, but after that, the bottle is empty. We’re going to have to get more as soon as possible. With how often we’re having sex, we can’t be without.
I wedge myself inside Noah once more, and he rocks back onto my hand, swallowing me inside. I grab his cock from behind again, chuckling when I feel how wet it is.
“Did you already come, baby?”
Noah moans and nods into the mattress, eyes closed. I rock my hand inside him for a while longer while he trembles and groans.
“I think I’m going to fuck you now,” I mumble.
Noah gives a wordless sound, low and keening.