31. Noah

We end up staying in the next day, too. I spend every waking moment wringing orgasm after orgasm out of Lane, learning every little thing that makes him tick. By late afternoon, he's so exhausted you'd think he ran a marathon.

There's a soft knock at the door, and I open it to find a package hanging from the doorknob. It seems Danny left us some soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Lane's eyes light up, and while I'm aware that the pang of jealousy I feel is stupid and immature, I refuse to eat any of it. I only wait about thirty seconds after he finishes eating to bend him over the side of the couch and stretch his ass around three of my fingers.

I fuck him so good he begs me for the real thing. Begs me. It's so hard to resist when his tight ass swallows and pulses around my fingers. I settle for fucking his mouth until he can't taste anything but me.

When Wednesday rolls around, it's easy for people to believe we've been sick. We're so wrung out and exhausted, Coach Carr takes it easy on us and sends us to hit the showers well before practice is over.

It's probably not the healthiest coping mechanism to force orgasms from him whenever there's any sign of seriousness or worry in Lane's overall demeanor, but for now it's all I've got and we're both much happier this way. So when I notice him side-eyeing the locker room showers, I get bold and pull him into a stall. Two fingers in his ass, my hand around his shaft, and my mouth sucking his exposed head are like a cheat code. I make him forget everything, and he's blowing his load down my throat in minutes.

We're barely rinsed off and out of the shower before the rest of the team files in after practice. Some of our friends take a few minutes to chat while we're getting dressed, and I don't miss the way Danny's eyes trace over Lane's exposed chest and abs. His eyes cut to me and look me up and down before casting one more glance at Lane, who is thanking him for the meal he made us while he pulls a shirt over his head. I give Danny a tense, fake smile that probably looks more like a dog showing its teeth.

"Dude, chill," Miah whisper-yells, swatting me on the ass with his towel. "What the hell do you have against Danny, anyway? He's a nice guy."

"Sure he is," I say. "But he looks at Lane like he's something to eat."

"So do you," Miah deadpans. "Only in a violent way." He chuckles. "Whatever, are you two coming to the dining hall for dinner?"

A brief glance at Lane tells me he is not a fan of the idea.

Putting a hand over my stomach, I grimace. "That doesn't sound appealing yet, maybe tomorrow."

"You sure? They have tacos tonight."

I do love tacos, but I love eating Lane even more. "Thanks, man. Not tonight."

"Yeah, it's no taco pizza," he says.

The tone of his voice is completely casual, but his body language and face while he says goodnight to me and Lane seems strained. I watch him closely, but he turns to chat with our other teammates and seems like his normal, happy self. I'm probably just reading into things. After over forty-eight hours just to ourselves, even being around my best friend seems jarring.

Noah: Who'd you get roomed with?

I swear to fuck if he says Danny, I'll burn this hotel to the ground.

Lane: Miah. You?

Noah: Taylor.

Lane: He sleeps with the TV on.

Noah: Ugh.

Noah: This sucks. I'm trying to think of a good reason to switch.

Lane: It would be too obvious.

Noah: This boner I have right now is too obvious.

It's a struggle not to meet his eyes over the table. The team is celebrating another win on the road, and we are thoroughly annoying the staff and patrons at a burger joint that all the tourist sites recommend.

Lane: You always have a boner.

Noah: You're always around.

Lane: You sent me a picture of your boner in class yesterday. I wasn't even there.

Noah: My hands smelled like your soap.

Lane: Because you keep jacking off with it.

Noah: Semantics.

He doesn't respond, but I can see the grin on his face. I'm not pleased that I have to go a night without him. I've gotten used to falling asleep to the sound of his breathing and having his warm body beneath mine. It'll be weird.

Sam Triviano stands up and clinks a knife against the side of his beer bottle to get us all to settle down and pay attention. It takes a while with so many of us all seated around several tables. Sam has to raise his voice enough that the whole restaurant can hear him, since we've mostly taken over.

"I'll keep it short and sweet; I just want to say a few words about how proud I am of this team. We're about halfway through the regular season, and we've got far more wins under our belt at this point than we did in the past two years. I think that has a lot to do with the quality of our freshman players, specifically, the wonder brothers down there."

Everyone lifts their bottles or glasses in acknowledgement of the table we're sitting at.

"Noah, when you first started here, I thought you were a cocky little showoff, and I was right." There's laughter all around, even from me. "But you've come a long way, and have really become a team player. We owe two of our three winning goals to you. Not just because of your skill, but because you know when to pass and where to pass." I nod my head in respect, because it's a really kind thing to say, especially since he's the one that has put more balls in the net than any other player this season.

"And Lane. You've been a beast on the pitch since you got here. Poor Lionel barely has anything to save because you don't let anything or anyone past your defenses. But I'm happy to see you loosening up and hanging out with the team, being one of the guys tonight." Lane's blush is adorable, and a few of the guys around him pat him on the shoulder. Danny ruffles his hair.

Sam makes a few more acknowledgements of great plays and talks a bit about how the next month of games is going to be crucial to making it into the ACC and NCAA championships. I mostly tune him out, keeping my eyes on the other side of the table, where Danny has pulled up a chair to chat with Lane. Every time he touches him, I have to force myself not to growl.

At some point, Lane excuses himself to go to the bathroom. I watch him walk away, trying not to be too blatant about the way I'm checking out this ass. When I pull my eyes away, though, I see Danny watching him, too. I draw attention when I abruptly stand up, and then, realizing I look like a psycho about to take out a teammate for staring at my brother, I excuse myself to the bathroom. It's not like anyone noticed that Lane went to the same place.

He"s washing his hands when I walk in, and I barely take the time to confirm there's no one in here before taking his face in my hands. Pressing my mouth and body to his, I walk us back into one of the stalls. Locking the door, I thrust my hips against his, pushing him against the door as I kiss him like I'm starving for him.

I am starving for him. Between the bus trip and the match, this is the first time we've been alone since we woke up tangled around each other this morning.

"This is fucking torture," I say, pressing kisses down his jaw to his neck. He groans and flexes his hips against me, but then he freezes.

We pull a few inches apart, and I look into Lane's wide, fearful eyes as we listen to someone come into the men's room. It feels like forever that we hold our breaths, waiting to see if they'll use the urinal and leave. But they choose the stall next to us.

Knowing that we need to be careful, I place one more gentle kiss on Lane's lips, sucking playfully on his bottom lip before pulling away with a wink. I leave the stall as quietly as possible, tip-toeing across the restroom and slipping out without a noise. I breathe a sigh of relief when there's no one outside the door. Hopefully, whoever is in the stall next to us didn't hear anything.

Most everyone is standing when I make it back to the table, ready to climb back on the bus and head to the hotel. Lane comes out of the bathroom a minute after I do, and we both keep cutting our eyes at each other, grinning at what we got away with.

Lane's back is to the hallway where the bathrooms are when I notice Danny Hastings walk out with an odd expression on his face. He sees me, then cuts his eyes at Lane, who still doesn't know Danny is there. He's distracted, making jokes with Miah about which one of them snored louder at soccer camp.

Though I shouldn't, I make eye contact with Danny, trying not to react to the hard, knowing gleam in his eyes. If he didn't suspect before, he definitely does now. My eyes cut back to Lane, worrying about how he'll react.

When I tear my eyes away from him, Danny is standing too close.

"Don't worry," he says quietly. "Lane's secrets are safe with me." His brown eyes look sincere, but I don't like the way he phrased that. Is he just trying to freak me out to get me back for being an asshole to him? Or is that a threat?

Loud knocking draws me out of a fitful sleep. It took me forever to fall asleep with the light from the TV on, and without the warmth of a hard body that I've quickly become accustomed to.

Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I scowl over at Taylor, who is also stirring.

It takes me a minute to realize that the sound isn't coming from the television, it's coming from the door. Someone is knocking frantically at the door. Then I hear my name being called.

"Milner! Wake up!"

What the fuck?

I tear open the door, finding three of our teammates, including Jamie Peters, standing in the hallway. They're all clearly sleep disheveled, but looking worried.

"What?"

"Dude, there's something wrong with your brother. He clocked Miah?—"

I'm running down the hallway before they even finish the sentence. I don't have to know what room number he's in to know where to go. A few guys are hanging around outside the door, and Miah is holding an ice pack to his face.

"What happened?" I yell, pushing past them all and busting into the room. My gut drops.

Lane is huddled in a corner at the end of the farthest bed, forehead to his knees and arms over his head. There are red streaks down the exposed part of his arms and the back of his neck where he scratched himself. He's breathing heavily, but doesn't respond to my voice when I call his name.

Miah follows me in, and several guys stand inside the doorway, looking concerned.

"Get the fuck out!" I bark at them, knowing that their presence will only make Lane worse. "And keep your mouth shut, or I'll break your fucking legs!"

I glance at Miah, who is shifting his good eye nervously from me to Lane, while I cautiously approach him. Kneeling in front of Lane, I put my hands on his knees, talking to him softly, letting him know it's me.

"I don't know what happened. I woke up, and he was sitting on the edge of his bed, muttering. I thought he was talking to me, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. I turned on the light, and he was, I dunno, man, he was trying to peel his face off or something. I tried to shake his shoulder, and he swung." Miah shrugs, a helpless look on his face. His eye doesn't look great, but it'll heal. "Then he lost it. Started thrashing and breaking shit. Woke up the guys next door, and I had to send them to get you. I didn't know what else to do."

"You didn't do anything wrong," I tell him, but all my attention is on the broken boy in front of me.

My hands slide to his arms, caressing softly, up and down, until he relaxes. He doesn't open his eyes, but he shifts his position so I can move in and pull his trembling body against mine. My knees fall to either side of his hips and I wrap my arms around his chest, giving him the pressure he needs to ground himself. His face nuzzles into my neck, and I whisper into his ear.

"I'm here, baby. I'm here. You're alright."

When I look up again, Miah is sitting at the edge of one of the beds, watching the whole thing with an indecipherable expression. I'm practically straddling Lane, in his lap, with all my limbs wrapped around him. When he catches my eye, he runs a hand through his hair. There are too many questions in the look he gives me, but he knows me well enough to know when to back off.

"Did you watch it?" I ask Miah, and I know he knows what I'm talking about.

He looks down. "I only saw part of it. It was on in Danny and Jamie's place. I tried to distract them from it as much as I could. I don't think they know."

"Did you see enough?" I ask pointedly, and the pained expression is enough confirmation. "So you understand, then?"

Miah swallows and nods.

"I've got him. You can go sleep in my room. I'll stay with him."

"Noah?"

I aim a warning glare at Miah, and he decides against whatever he was going to ask. After grabbing a few of his things, he leaves. The moment the door clicks shut, I don't waste anymore time on pretense. I lift Lane's face to mine, looking into his eyes, darkened with pain and fear. I press a kiss to his mouth. Just a simple kiss, but he opens for me, and I deepen it. I pour everything, all my emotions, all my comfort and promises I don't have words for, into him with this kiss.

"You with me?"

Lane nods against me, pressing his mouth harder against mine.

Untangling my limbs from around his body, I pull Lane to his feet and lead him to the bed. After pulling his shirt over his head and getting him to step out of his pants, I strip down to my boxer briefs. When we crawl into bed, I lay across him, skin to skin, giving him every point of contact.

But he needs more.

"Noah," he says softly, and I lift my head to look at him. He bends forward and takes my lips, pulling me higher on his body until I'm fully on top of him. "Noah," he whispers again, this time a plea.

"It's okay, baby. I know. I've got you."

Trailing kisses down his body, I peel his boxers off his legs and settle between them. Kissing and nipping up the insides of his thighs, I take each of his balls in my mouth, gently sucking, before making my way up his long shaft. At his tip, I roll my tongue around the inside of his foreskin before sucking up all the pre-cum leaking out of his slit, pushing my tongue inside to coax out more. I spit it on my index and middle fingers, and Lane's thighs instinctively widen for me. He whimpers and moans as I take him as deep into the back of my throat as I can, bobbing slowly while my fingers tease his hole.

I want to drag this out, make his pleasure last for hours if I can. I'm going to edge him until he's begging, and then once he's feeding me his cum, I'll start all over again. So far, my record is three orgasms in a row before he's too spent and overstimulated to do more. Tonight we'll try for four.

He needs the connection as well as the distraction. Not only because he had the nightmare, but because he knows people saw him like that. Letting me see his vulnerabilities is hard enough, and I love him.

I… love him.

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I choke and sputter, pulling back on his massive cock. I've got two fingers buried in his hot, tight ass, and he's begging for more.

Yeah. I love the bastard.

"Noah, more." He moans my name, and I blink up at him through the tears streaming down my face from the assault on my gag reflex, and the overwhelming emotional truck I just got hit with.

Pulling at my hair, he directs me to his mouth. With my fingers slowly moving inside him, I lick against his tongue, tasting the salt of my tears and maybe some of his. My cock rubs against the inside of his thigh as I rock into him with each thrust of my fingers, soaking the inside of my briefs with pre-cum.

"I want you," he rasps.

"You have me," I say, licking the pulse point in his neck.

"All of you."

My eyes pop open, and I pull back to look him in the eyes. His gaze is determined and imploring. My fingers pull out of his ass so I can grip his thigh, wrapping it around me so I can drape my body over his. We writhe together, devouring each other, until we're both panting.

Suddenly, I can't be inside him fast enough. Lane directs me to where he has a travel sized tube of lube in his bag, which makes me feel ridiculously self-satisfied that he thought to be prepared for me to play with his ass. I open my mouth to comment, but any thoughts of snark are wiped from my mind at the sight of Lane lying on his stomach, watching me with a mix of arousal and trepidation. His smooth, round, muscular ass is on display for me.

My eyes trail over him, considering how I want to take him the first time. As I crawl on the bed again, Lane pushes himself to his hands and knees. My face drops to his ass, biting into the meat of it before soothing it with my tongue while I push two lubed fingers into him. Lane groans and pushes back on my fingers, his needy ass begging for another.

I finger him open, dripping more lube inside, until Lane threatens to hold me down and take what he wants. Chuckling, I flip him over on his back.

"I want to see you," I reply to his confused expression, dipping to nip and kiss his lips.

Settling myself between his legs, I take my cock in my hand, spreading more lube over it before teasing the head back and forth over his hole.

"I want to watch your face when I take you, Lane," I say, pressing against him, not yet breaching his entrance. "I want to watch you become truly mine."

He gasps, and I push forward. As stretched as I can get him on my fingers, I'm still pretty thick around, and his ass tenses at the intrusion.

"Relax, baby. Let me in."

Lane sucks in a deep breath, and I feel him loosen as he does what I told him. The head of my cock pushes in, breaching the tight ring of muscle. I hiss at the overwhelming tightness that grips my cock. Once I'm past that first barrier, I pause and lean in to kiss him.

I'm panting as hard as Lane is, from the effort it's taking to remain still. Every muscle in my body wants to drive forward and plant myself deep inside him. Instead, I hold myself where I am, letting him get used to the intrusion while I keep kissing him, until Lane moves and encourages me to push in deeper. I pull almost all the way out, and then push back in, pressing through another barrier. He feels too good, and the effort to control myself has me shaking, giving him a little bit more with each slow thrust, until I'm a little more than halfway in.

"Are you okay?" I rasp, pressing my face into Lane's neck.

"Are you?" he says, laughing softly. "You look uncomfortable."

I'm sweating profusely, and I can only imagine my expression is as pained as the effort to keep still. "My cock is buried halfway inside the most magical place it's ever been. I'm just trying to keep my shit together," I laugh, trembling.

"Just halfway?" He sounds concerned.

Oh God, it's hurting him.I start to pull out, but Lane grabs my ass, encouraging me to sink lower. He wraps his legs around me, and I hold my breath, slowly sliding all the way inside his perfect tight heat. My body is flush with his, my cock buried to the hilt inside him. I groan and press my forehead to his, sharing breaths as I process what is surely a dream.

Holy shit. I'm inside him.I'm inside Lane.

"Oh my God, you're inside me," Lane says breathily, echoing my frantic thoughts. "I'm so… full."

So am I. I'm full to the brim with some kind of emotion that I can't name. It aches with every frenzied beat of my heart, making my blood feel hot, and sending burning shivers of pleasure up and down my spine.

"You're truly mine now," I tell him before taking his mouth. Kissing him passionately with each roll of my hips, I murmur against his lips how perfect he is, how good he feels, how he's always going to be mine.

Hooking one of my arms beneath one of his thighs, I pull him closer to me, needing to reach as far inside him as I can.

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God." He pants and chants when I thrust into him from a new angle. Encouraged by the sounds he's making, I pull my hips back and snap them forward. Lane cries out, and I do it again, setting a steady rhythm.

Pressure builds in my balls, and sweat is pouring off my body in rivulets. I can't last much longer, but there's no way in hell I'm letting go until he does. Gripping his ass in one hand, fingertips digging into his flesh, I wrap my other hand around his big cock, spreading the stream of pre-cum down the shaft and stroking him in time with my thrusts.

He melts and pants, my name and God's repeating over and over like he's chanting. "Oh God, Noah. Oh God, Noah!"

Eyes rolling back, head pressed into the pillow, Lane lifts his hips to meet mine, encouraging me to fuck into him. The bed shifting, my balls smacking against Lane's skin, our grunts and moans, it all merges together to form the most perfect music.

"Noah! I'm gonna?—"

His ass is pulsing around my cock. "Are you going to come for me, Lane? Are you going to come with my cock deep in your ass?"

"Ahhh…" He tenses, his ass clenching me so tightly, I nearly come on the spot.

"Oh, Fuck. Lane, your ass is so fucking perfect. I'm going to come, baby."

"Inside me," he rasps.

I still for a moment, my brain going screwy. Fuck. He wants me to come inside him? His expression is vulnerable, pupils blown wide.

"You want me to fill this pretty ass with cum, little brother?"

"Yes! Please! God!"

Oh fuck, I can't hold on any longer. Waves of heat are coursing through my veins, heat building at the base of my spine. My balls are throbbing, pulled up tight and ready to unleash.

"Come for me, baby," I choke out. "Come for me and I'll fill you up."

"Unnhhhgghh—" Lane grunts and mewls as his cock erupts in my hand. I jerk him faster, wringing out every spurt before I have to let go and grip both of Lane's thighs.

I look down at my cock driving in and out of his ass, and I feel myself thicken. His ass is pulsing around me, and I swear there has never been a more intense feeling in the world. My climax builds, climbing up my spine.

I pound into him faster and harder, until the world shatters and my cock pulses. I hunch over with the force of it, probably making the least sexy face possible, but I have zero control of my faculties. All I can do is surrender to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through me, and continue staring down at the connection between us, knowing that my cum is filling him up. Marking him. Making him mine.

Lane is in the shower when Miah comes by in the morning to drop off my bag. I was just going to grab it out of the hallway, but he left his charger, so he came back to grab it.

"Is Lane okay?" he asks as he pulls his charger from an outlet behind the dresser.

"He came out of it looking better than you do," I joke, gesturing to his black eye. It's not too swollen, but there's definitely a good bit of color around the bottom of his left eye. "He'll be alright." I know Miah wants more information, but I don't feel like it's my place.

Not only that, but there's a very naked Lane Blakely in a shower that we can both fit in, and I don't want to miss whatever opportunities that presents. The only reason I'm not already in there, and was available to answer the door when Miah knocked, is because he wanted some privacy to clean himself up. Some controlling douchebag held him captive and wouldn't let him clean up last night. And however much said controlling douchebag begged to help clean the cum from his asshole, Lane wouldn't allow it.

Killjoy.

Miah chooses to ignore my very obvious attempts to corral him towards the door, leaning against the wall and wrapping his charging cord around his hand. "So, are we going to talk about it? Or are we still pretending this isn't a thing?"

"Talk about what?"

"I dunno. Maybe the fact that it smells like sex in here, or that you called Lane baby last night?"

Whoops.

I'm usually quicker on the uptake and able to make excuses for stuff on the fly, but my brain is completely blank. If my silence isn't enough to implicate me, my impression of Lane's nervous stutter surely is.

"I-I was comforting him."

Miah's gaze lands on the mess of bedsheets and then drops to the travel sized lube that's laying open on the floor.

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"Look, it's complicated."

"Obviously. I just don't see why you had to hide it from me. I'm your best friend, Noah. At least now I know why you've been ghosting me."

I sigh. "You're right, I'm sorry. But I didn't know what this really was for a while. If it was just a thing, or if it was going to be a thing. You know?"

"So, which is it?"

My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. He gestures with his hand, waiting for me to answer. But I don't know. I know what I want this to be, but I don't know if it's even possible. There's a whole lot of complicated layers here.

Lane chooses this moment to yell from the shower. "Alright. My ass is officially clean enough to eat!" I can hear him chuckling at his own joke, and I roll my lips.

Miah glares at me, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Get the fuck out before he realizes you were here," I tell him, physically pushing him to the door. "And keep your fucking mouth shut."

Miah giggles maniacally as I throw him out into the hallway, miming a kick in his direction.

"Bon appetit!" He yells from down the hallway. That fucker.

I'm still chuckling when I walk into the bathroom and strip off the pajama pants I'd thrown on.

"What's got you all giggly this morning?" Lane asks as I step into the shower behind him. It's a tight fit, but I can slide the door closed and still have a foot or so of space between us. Not that I need it.

"Clean enough to eat, huh?"

His slight blush, combined with the cheeky smirk, reassures me he's not freaking out this morning. I was worried that once he had any time alone, he'd start feeling bad about what we did last night. And I don't want that. I want him to feel as good about it as I do. Because for me, it was life altering.

My hands roam over his body, admiring how the water flows over all those muscles. I kiss the back of his shoulders and up his neck while one hand cups his ass.

"Are you sore?" I murmur against his ear, fingers caressing gently between his cheeks.

"A little," he admits, dropping his head back on my shoulder.

"Good," I growl softly. I don't know why, but I really, really like the idea of his ass being sore. He turns his head to kiss me, moaning when my fingers press gently against his used hole.

"Now let me kiss it better," I say against his mouth before dropping to my knees.