Chapter Eleven #2
James’s heart twisted again, though this time not from grief.
Gratitude welled inside him, warring with the aching agony that multiplied in solitude.
Nolan knelt next to him in a perfectly submissive position, head tilted down, palms resting on his thighs.
His breathing grew slow and even, and the temptation to reach out caused James’s fingers to twitch.
Slowly, slowly, he extended his hand and settled it on Nolan’s soft green hair.
He snagged the hair tie keeping the bun in place and undid it.
Those glossy green locks fell to his shoulders, so damn alluring.
Then he stroked his fingers through the strands.
An undeniable shiver rolled through him. The hit of relief was instantaneous, and he continued to run his fingers through Nolan’s silken hair—the texture, the feel, the movement itself drawing him in.
One moment he’d been spiraling, spiraling, spiraling, and the next, the first ray of light pierced the interminable dark.
How Nolan had realized what he needed, he’d never know, how this man quieted the ghosts haunting him, unfathomable, and yet he couldn’t help but crave his presence.
The way he steadily allowed him to breathe for the first time in over a year.
James wasn’t sure how much time had passed, whether minutes or hours, that he spent stroking Nolan’s hair, each breath growing longer and steadier. All he knew was that he hadn’t done this before with anyone, nor had a sub offer themselves in this simple way for relief.
Yet, he had also been together back then. As much as he thought he could be. What he’d begun to discover in his self-reliance was that he’d missed the memo on learning how to lean on others.
Maybe that was what kept him encased in glass.
James let out another breath, and his hand in Nolan’s hair stilled. “Your knees have to be aching. Why don’t you come up on the couch?”
Nolan glanced at him, and his lips quirked. “Think I haven’t service-subbed at a party before? The stillness doesn’t bother me. I’ve done hour long meditation sessions on my knees.”
The sultry tone in “on my knees” shot right through James’s veins, igniting him. His defenses were down, his thoughts stripped away to mere impulse, and the truth lay right in front of him.
Nolan was incredibly sexy, incredibly kind, and someone who he’d connected with.
Even with his hair down, the sculpted lines of him were clear—his long neck with the protruding Adam’s apple, and his slender, lithe limbs.
His hips looked grippable, and his whole body emanated grace.
James’s palm rested on Nolan’s head, and he soaked in the ache that bloomed inside him from the mere touch.
He’d never needed much physicality—or at least he hadn’t thought he did.
Yet, he craved every brush against Nolan, every touch, every whisper of their bodies in close proximity.
“Thank you,” he said, the words earnest. He removed his palm and patted the seat beside him. “I’m feeling a lot steadier now.”
“Glad to hear it,” Nolan said, flashing him one of those charmer grins.
He started to push up, but James reached over and extended a hand.
He gave Nolan a tug upward, and Nolan wobbled, his knees shaky from however long he’d been kneeling.
One second, he was rising up, and the other, he careened forward.
He crashed right onto James’s lap.
James swallowed hard. An armful of the man was nearly too much, almost too decadent.
His skin was luxuriously warm, and he smelled like the early morning breeze mixed with a light musk.
James couldn’t help but breath it in, loving the way it made his body spark to life.
His cock began to grow hard, and fast, with this bundle of Nolan in his arms. Fuck, this was going to send all the wrong signals.
Even if his heart continued to argue with him.
“Whoops,” James said, scooping Nolan up and shifting him right beside him.
While the immediate contact cooled him slightly, the tension still lingered in the air.
Nolan’s glance dropped to James’s crotch, where his cock tented his slacks.
He was endowed enough that he couldn’t hide it, and fuck, he was so tired of pretending he wasn’t attracted to Nolan.
Yet, Nolan deserved someone who wasn’t constantly stepping on landmines from the past, someone who was whole, not shattered.
“So, I’m guessing the visit with your mom went well?” Nolan teased, and James could kiss him for lightening things.
Or not, since kissing him would get him into even deeper waters.
“She’s the best,” James said. “Just a bit of a reminder for me right now.”
Nolan didn’t ask, and James should be grateful for that, but the more he sat next to this man, who stared at him with the openness and kindness he craved, the more he found that he wanted to share.
“Apparently the Walker family has a generational curse,” he said, reaching for his beer. He took a sip, though it didn’t soothe the rapid pace of his heart. “First, my father passed when I was seven, leaving my mother a widow. Then, Andrew passed a year ago, leaving me the same.”
“So she raised you on her own?” Nolan asked. James sat straighter. Most folks sought details about the deaths, and he had to decide how much he wanted to peel open the scabs on his heart. His father’s had been a sudden car accident that rocked them all, so different from Andrew’s slow decay.
Yet, Nolan was unique. He hadn’t pushed in that direction.
“Yeah, she did, and I wasn’t an easy kid.
Stubborn to a fault, always wanting to get involved in a bunch of different sports.
Didn’t realize then how hard it is to pay for and get carted around to.
But my mother somehow figured it out. She worked extra shifts to afford the fees and made arrangements with other parents to get me there. ”
“Ah, so you weren’t always such a nerd,” Nolan teased.
James rolled his eyes and flicked him in the side. “Computers were a simultaneous interest, but I didn’t get deep into D&D until college. By then, sports were far more competitive, and I’d never planned on pursuing them past a hobby. What kind of high school kid were you?”
“Take a wild guess,” Nolan said, his kohl-lined eyes sparkling.
“Mmm, you strike me as the kid who was in a band.” James took another swig of his beer.
Nolan grinned wider. “Punk band, to be exact. We didn’t have any crazy aspirations, just liked playing music when we could.”
“Andrew listened to some punk,” James said, shocked he was bringing up the memories on his own volition.
However, the lack of demands Nolan placed on him meant something.
Made it easier to speak of the past. “I was more of a smooth jazz and folk music guy, but damn, he loved anything with a fast beat.”
“So, what you’re saying is he had good taste,” Nolan teased.
James rolled his eyes, even as the past tense sank into his skin. Though, the pain had dulled with time, a papercut versus a gash. “He would’ve appreciated your snark, for sure. The boy was a complete brat.”
“That your type?” Nolan asked, the weight of those pretty eyes sinking in.
James shrugged. “My type is a bit more elusive. I’ve played with brats, sweet subs, switches, the gamut. I’m looking for connection, and that’s not something that can be fabricated.”
“Tell me about it,” Nolan muttered. “Hence why I’ve been in the dating pool for so long.”
James licked his lips. “Seems impossible. You’re gorgeous, caring, and so sharp.”
Nolan met his gaze. “Well, I have a spectacular sense of bad timing, an unpredictable case of OCD, and a habit of forming one-sided attraction.”
Guilt flushed through James. Nolan was clearly talking about them, and damn, he wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he was a fucking stunner who’d sparked feelings to life that had laid dormant for a year.
And yet, he couldn’t manage tonight. Not after having his mom over and rehashing the past.
“I wish I wasn’t broken,” James murmured, the only words that could escape his lips.
He tensed, expecting Nolan to refute him or gloss over what he’d bared.
Instead, Nolan rested his hand next to James, close enough they touched.
The connection was a lifeline he clutched right now, a minor point of contact that shifted his entire world.
One that made him feel like he’d glued some of his shattered pieces together.