Chapter 22 Cole

I can't say I would've guessed in eight lifetimes how this event would have ended. But it certainly wasn't with Noah bidding every last dollar to his name on me.

Of course, I was never letting that happen. "I'm covering your bid," I tell him later. "Every last dollar."

The event has wrapped up and everyone is gathered in the McPherson house for a (somewhat) intimate after party—the crew members, us bachelors and our friends and family, Tamika and the newspaper people, and a number of specially invited guests.

Noah makes a face. "No, you're not."

"I am. I mean, rumors are going around that the whole thing was rigged and you and I were this big rehearsed performance, so why not buy my own date?" I squeeze him against me. I swear, I haven't let go of him since the auction ended.

He shakes his head. "We'll discuss this later. Besides, you and I weren't even the biggest deal of the night."

We both glance over at Dean.

And a beautiful woman named Candace, standing by his side with a glass of champagne, who paid top dollar for him.

It's true. When Dean and Anthony finally emerged for their auctions—poor Anthony with his nose bandaged so tightly to keep it from bleeding, you'd think he was wearing a diaper on his face—a bidding war began that put mine to shame. Five women fought for Dean, and the bids grew so large that even Frankie looked like he might need assistance. One by one they dropped, until the war at last concluded with a bid of $7,500 by none other than Candace. Apparently, she is a CEO of some Austin-based food company and just happened to visit the Spruce area on a whim, having caught wind of the upcoming bachelor pageant. Their chance meeting at that coffee shop and the seven minutes of conversation that they shared must have been an act of fate, bringing the two together.

And so it seems that Dean King has found his Queen.

Anthony's auction was considerably less lucrative. At first, the bids rolled in at a sleepy snail's pace. It seemed like Frankie was a second away from jokingly placing a bid himself just to nudge the ball in the right direction when suddenly the floral-shirt guy came back into the picture with a bid, stunning the women. Anthony, who at this point had lost all hope and commitment to the entire ordeal, simply shrugged and said, "Sure, fine, whatever, whoever can bid on me, I don't care." And suddenly men and women began throwing in their bids while Anthony, only half paying attention, kept touching his bandage and wincing in pain. His auction soon concluded with a comparatively modest bid of $1,075 from a lady in the second row.

That lovely lady isn't here. Anthony, last I heard, crashed on the guest lounge sofa from exhaustion—and also likely from being tired of everyone's consolation and insistence that his whole night "totally didn't go all that badly". He likely just wishes all memory of it would wash away as quickly as humanly possible.

Other than Anthony, everyone else seems to be having a great time tonight. Cissy and Nadine keep cracking each other up in the living room, kicked back on the sofa with their heels off, downing a bottle of wine and irredeemably intoxicated. Dean and Candace are seated at a tea table by the back window overlooking a garden, getting to know one another better. Tyrone and Omar mingle with the other couples in attendance, including local fashion designer Lance Goodwin with his long-time boyfriend Chad, as well as my recently-wed bosses Jimmy and Bobby. I'm not sure where Tanner and Billy are, but Jimmy assures me they probably just had to head back home to their kids, who didn't come to the event, as it "likely would have bored them twice to death". Mindy and Joel similarly had to duck out early to relieve "whomever was lucky enough to babysit the little monsters".

Our parents stand at opposite ends of the room, mingling with completely different people. Only my Nan is separated from them all, sipping a flute of champagne and slowly dancing to a song that plays from a nearby radio, completely in her own world. I guess it was too much to hope for our mothers to reconcile tonight.

It's nearing midnight when Noah and I raid the snack bar near the kitchen, realizing we'd barely eaten a thing all night.

And Noah still hasn't let it go. "You're not paying me back."

I snatch a carrot stick from his fingers, startling him, and pop it in my mouth. "I most certainly am not making you give up all that money you've saved up, Noah Lawrence Reed, just to take me out on a date … which you could do for free."

"You just took my carrot stick."

"It's why I let the auction carry on at all. I told myself, ‘well, he can go and be my cute little hero tonight, but he's not letting go of a cent of that money.' And I mean it."

"But if I didn't step in, then you would be going on a date with Mae's gorgeous brother."

"Is that who that was?" I ask innocently, playing dumb, as I go for another carrot stick. "Didn't even notice."

Now it's Noah who snatches the stick out of my fingers. "And if it cost me $3,000 to keep you from dating some pouty, gorgeous guy with a short temper …"

"You've called him gorgeous twice now."

"… then it's worth every dollar." He bites the carrot stick in half, narrowing his eyes challengingly at me.

That's precisely when TJ finds us, strutting up to help himself to a slice of cucumber. "Actually," he says, "it wasn't your money you were bidding with … but mine."

Noah and I turn to him, confused.

TJ pops the slice into his mouth, crunches on it, then smiles. "You were using my paddle, remember? It's attached to a bidding ID—mine—which means it's my $3,000 that saved Cole."

Noah seems unsure what to say for a moment. "I … T-TJ, I … I didn't think I was—"

"It was all part of the plan," he says. "I knew what I was doing when I handed you my paddle. And since my ID is connected to my own account, I guess you can look at it as … a $3,000 donation I just made to the cause in y'all's honor."

"But you don't make an awful lot working TS's Shoppe part-time," argues Noah, "certainly not enough to afford—"

"Oh, that job's for pocket change, and honestly, I love working there helping out Billy. And besides, you know who my parents are, right?" He chuckles. "They give me a generous allowance I sure don't need while I'm in college. I hardly even use it. So, if it helps, just see this as a donation from them." TJ grins as he helps himself to another slice of cucumber, pops it in his mouth with playful finesse, then peers at Noah. "Also, that special date you two will be going on sometime soon? It's covered by the event, too. It includes a pair of coupons to a special restaurant for whatever your heart desires on the menu, no limits." He lets out a happy sigh. "Ah … I can't wait to hear how it goes. I've been kinda rooting for you for a while now." He pats us both on the back. "No, don't thank me. Just take pics of the food. Good pics. Total food porn, that's all I want in return. Yeah, that'll suffice."

With that, TJ saunters away, leaving a bewildered me and a teary-eyed Noah speechless with carrot sticks in our hands.

Noah peers off over my shoulder, squinting at something. "Is it just me, or are Tamika and Frankie … like, really flirty?"

I follow his line of sight. Tamika and Frankie are hanging by one of the tall windows, nearly tucked into the drapery with a tiny plate of crackers and cheese between them. Frankie has a cute and teasing smile on his face as he talks to Tamika, who herself seems amused and playful right back, as she puts a tiny block of cheese on a cracker and eats it. Even the way she chews is flirty, doing everything but batting eyelashes at him.

I shrug. "Didn't they do theatre together back in school?"

"Everyone in school denied they were a thing." Noah frowns. "But if they were a thing, Tamika would tell me, wouldn't she?" He seems to experience a sudden doubt. "Uh … wouldn't she …?" He shakes his head of the subject. "Anyway, I guess TJ just settled our dispute." He faces me. "TJ's the real person who bid on a date with you. You are about to go on a fancy date with TJ McPherson."

I laugh at that, then pull Noah against me. "Is that your idea of a joke? Are you making an attempt at humor again?"

"Nope. Totally seriously serious. TJ just bought you."

"You want me to go on a date with TJ?"

"No."

Then he cracks a smile.

I shake my head and put my face right in front of his. "I can't wait to go on a date with you. I can't wait to make you all mine. I … I can't wait to experience you the proper way, the way a boyfriend ought to experience his boyfriend, without hiding you everywhere and ducking out of sight of onlookers."

"We might still have to do that for a little while," he says. "No paper does its due diligence without a proper follow-up story."

I kiss him right then, pull back, and smile. "They're going to be doing an awful lot of following up for quite a while then, ‘cause I sure have no plans of letting you go anytime soon."

His eyes sparkle with emotion. "You sure? Wait." He lifts his eyebrows. "Did you just call me your boyfriend a second ago?"

I shrug. "Of course. Isn't that what you are?"

"You did it so easily … so quickly … so casually."

"Do you need it more formally stated?"

"Yes," he says rather curtly. "You know how my mind works. I don't do well with … with ambiguity. These past few weeks have been the best weeks of my life … and they've also been complete and utter torment for my brain."

"Is that so?"

"I'm … I'm not used to this. You know I'm not. I've never …" He sets down his plate suddenly, the carrot sticks rattling. "… had a boyfriend before. And now that there's no pageant hanging over us as an excuse to, uh, hold back …"

"Yeah …?"

"… I'm having to face a lot of … concepts that aren't … familiar to me. Things I've been scared of all my life."

"Like what?"

"Feeling things. Naming things. I mean … I think I like it." He gazes at me. "But it's also scary. I want to enjoy it, but I can't think straight when it's happening. And when it's happening, I … don't want to think at all. But that's not like me. I think about everything. I don't do well with ambiguity." He starts wringing his hands. "Or subtlety. Or reading between any amounts of lines. I need things said clearly. I need things understood. That way, I don't overthink it, draw wrong conclusions, or … or misinterpret a simple gesture or something you say as something … bigger."

I nod patiently. "Okay. Clarity. No subtleness. Got it."

He bites his lip. "I mean, you can be a little subtle. Reasonably subtle. Just subtle enough to be grasped by a typical human being. But not too subtle for, say … a robot to comprehend, for example. Does that make sense?"

That causes me to laugh. "A robot?"

"Yes, a robot. Don't laugh."

I press a hand to my mouth. "Got it," I say, muffled, then drop my hand. "Then I'll be clear with you. I have deep feelings for you. And I am also equally as glad that the pageant is over with. And I am more than excited to take you on this special date, to romance you, and to do all the things we couldn't do before."

"That sounds nice. Especially considering the coupons TJ had mentioned. Though I need to know the specifics behind those so-called no-limits coupons, because he couldn't possibly have meant there's literally no limit to them, otherwise we could order forty-seven steaks." He frowns. "Also, you're still being vague."

"I am?"

Just then, we hear a burst of dramatic tears from the living room nearby. After an alarmed glance at one another, Noah and I hurry to the living room to investigate.

We are both rendered completely speechless by what we find.

My mom—and Noah's mom—tightly embracing each other.

And sobbing hysterically.

"Oh, I've wasted so much time blaming you for nothing!" my mom cries out. "Deidra, my best friend!"

"Gosh dang it, Lauren, I've missed you so much! I'm a terrible friend! I should a' reached out sooner!"

"It's my fault, I kept pushing you away and away!"

"No, no, it's mine! And you still got them hot pink tongs! Noah told me, you've still got ‘em!"

"I use them every day, oh, Deidra, let's never fight again!"

"Not ever, not even a little bit! I miss my drinkin' buddy!"

"Girl, I miss you, too!"

Noah and I look at each other, flabbergasted, then face our reunited mothers and begin to applaud. As their scene has earned them the attention of everyone else in the room anyway, our lead sets the example for the rest of the room to applaud as well. Even Nadine joins in, whistling with fingers in her mouth, likely having no idea the deep, dark drama that underlies this moment of two ex-best friends at long last burying the hatchet and rediscovering each other. Our mothers don't seem to even notice, continuing to squeeze one another and exchange vows of eternal friendship as well as apology after apology.

Our respective dads watch from the side, Noah's with misty, happy eyes, and my own with a curious, faraway expression, as if observing something strange yet touching. He looks my way, like he senses me, then after a moment's pause, gives me a smile.

I smile back.

I guess you can say we had our own reconciliation, too.

It was just after the event when I was in the back guesthouse-slash-dressing-room removing my makeup that Mindy so artfully applied that my parents and Nan found me. My mom gave me the biggest hug, telling me how proud she was to be my mother and that she loved each and every thing about my performance. Even my Nan, usually dry as a bone, seemed overcome with tears when she hugged me and whispered in my ear, "That song, sweetheart, I just know your Gramps up in Heaven heard your divine voice, and he most certainly is proud of you today, too." My dad even came up to me and gave me an unexpected hug. I remember thinking I couldn't remember the last time he hugged me. "Real, real proud of you, son. You do this family mighty proud."

I'm not sure why, but just those tiny nuggets of praise from my family was enough to spill me right over the edge, and as soon as I started crying, all three of them rushed to hug me. Our family has felt broken for such a long time and for such a complex tangle of reasons, there's no telling how it can all possibly be sorted out.

But when my dad and Nan saw themselves out of my dressing room, it was my mom who hung back to hug me one last time, and in my ear, she said, "I think we're going to try therapy. Couples for the both of us, but … also therapy for just me. I think I could use … I could use someone to talk to. Someone professional." The hug we shared after that was longer than all the hugs combined.

Somehow, I felt like I got my family back today.

Even if things aren't perfect right now, even if they're not perfect in a week, or a month, or even a year from now, isn't it the effort that counts the most?

"Let me say it clearly," I tell Noah as we stand there watching our mothers sob and squeeze each other.

He turns to me. "Say what clearly?"

"No vagueness. No subtlety. I will say it as clear as clear can be so there is no margin of error." I take his hands into mine. "I want to be your boyfriend. And I want you to be mine."

Thankfully, it only takes his CPU three seconds to process.

After which, he appears pleased. "I appreciate the directness."

"Anything for my boyfriend."

And we kiss.

It is with abundant joy in my heart that this wild night comes at last to an end. When Noah and I leave the McPherson estate, we leave hand-in-hand.

And it isn't much longer after that night that Noah and I find ourselves walking up to the front of a fancy restaurant in Fairview in our finest dining attire.

Also hand-in-hand.

The restaurant, owned and operated by the Strongs, is a high-dollar establishment called Nadine's. The head chef happens to be Malcolm's father Mario Tucci, and it is with great and delicate care and outstanding service that Noah and I enjoy the most amazing dinner I think either of us have ever experienced. Our server is a sweet guy with a goatee named Pablo, who is extremely attentive and seems to anticipate our every need. The manager on duty is a beautiful blonde woman named Cindy Anne Thorpe, who checks on us a few times and treats us like royalty. When our desserts are served, I insist on feeding Noah his first bite. Of course he resists the notion at first, embarrassed, but ultimately succumbs to my irresistible eyes (and obnoxious pleading) then immediately asks me to feed him a second, third, and fourth bite.

He doesn't even care if there's a teen watching in the corner.

Who is probably on a date with her boyfriend.

And sneakily has her phone out.

Recording our moment because we're so dang adorable.

"Do you think Anthony came here already with that woman who bid on him?" asks Noah on our slow, leisurely way out of the restaurant strolling to my car, our arms hooked together.

"I don't know. I heard he tried to give his coupon to her and said she deserved someone better. I think it was his way of trying to wriggle out of the whole commitment, but he didn't get away with it. I heard Nadine scolded him for even trying, after that lady spent all that money for a date with him." I shrug. "I haven't been able to get ahold of him lately. He's in a strange place."

"Spending lots of time talking to Reverend Trey, Tamika told me." Noah frowns. "Or so she heard. I hope he's okay."

I smile as I rub Noah's arm. "You've gotten a soft spot for the rough guy, huh?"

"I'm not sure. Working on the pageant seems to have changed my perspective about a lot of things. I even started asking my dad about his train town. And I brought a whole batch of my mom's new Cute Tutes to the newspaper last week. I think I'm …" He lets out a sigh of disbelief. "I think I'm starting to become more aware of the people in my life and how we all affect each other. I never felt a sense of community before. I've always felt outside of it. But lately, I'm starting to realize I've always been a part of it … even if in tiny, seemingly insignificant ways. I see that now through how Tamika's been looking out for me. And how much my mom notices even when she seems in her own world. My dad, too." He stops and looks at me. "And you."

I put my arms around the small of his back and hug him close to me, our hips together. "I'm never gonna let you disappear into the background ever again, Noah. You deserve to be seen."

"Was it you?"

My eyebrows pull together. "Was what me?"

"The whole time? Back in school? Was it you who got me a new math book? Who left an umbrella by my locker? Who had the snack bar lady set my favorite snack aside every lunch period? I've been wondering for a while now and … and never could ask."

I stare back at him, for a moment amazed.

Honestly, his question lands right in my chest.

I never thought he'd put it all together and actually ask.

When I finally recover, I smile back at him, bring a hand to his sweet face, and brush bangs off his forehead. "If you have to ask … I suppose you've already got your answer." Then I kiss him, smile once more, and peer contentedly into his eyes.

Except he's frowning now. "You're being vague."

"I know."

"Cole …" he mumbles warningly.

He's too fucking adorable to leave hanging. Stifling my own giddy laughter, I dive into his face for a kiss. It seems all intention of complaining further is swallowed away at once as he melts against my body, kissing me right back. There's no telling quite how long we stand there in the parking lot of Nadine's kissing each other. It is most certainly for an obscene amount of time.

When we separate, Noah's eyes remain closed. "I don't want this night to end," he volunteers suddenly. "I wish this feeling in me can last forever and ever."

I smile, a trick up my sleeve. "Our night isn't over yet."

His eyes flick open. "It isn't?"

I take hold of his hand and lead him back to the car, ready to show him my last surprise.

In the heart of downtown Fairview, there is a gorgeous resort hotel on a sprawling stretch of land. It came highly recommended to me when I asked around about the perfect place to take Noah. Sadly, at this time of the evening with the sun down and the stars twinkling high in the sky, many of its more flashy amenities aren't visible. I suppose we can partake of them tomorrow, if Noah feels so inclined to hop in a beautiful pool with waterfalls and lazy river features that circle the premises.

"We're staying the night here?" gasps Noah as we walk inside, his eyes taking in the sparkly Romanesque interior of the lobby. "I thought we were headed back to watch the rest of that movie."

"Someone slipped to me how it ends," I confess, "and while I am more than open to finishing it with you someday, I don't want you thinking that a fictional story about a sorcerer and a paladin's doomed relationship has any symbolic reference or connection to ours whatsoever."

He finds that amusing. "Y'know, I heard it's actually the first part of a trilogy."

That comes as a surprise. "Really?"

"Yep. And they are making all three movies." He gives me a playful smirk. "It seems like the demon sorcerer and the paladin's story isn't over just yet."

I squeeze his hand and wink at him. "Far from over."

The glitz and the glamour of the lobby is but a taste of what we find in our suite. It's six times the size of a normal hotel room, with a shiny kitchenette, wide full-sized balcony complete with an outdoor Jacuzzi, and a TV that nearly covers the wall. Around the bed is sprinkled rose petals, just as I requested.

We spend exactly one and a half minutes admiring any of it.

Because Noah is making out with me before I can even point out the orange-flavored and sour candies neatly arranged in tiny bowls all around the room, or the stuffed orange polka-dot dragon on the sofa with big adorable eyes.

Perhaps appreciating all of my excessive thoughtfulness isn't his priority at the moment.

Orange candies and dragon plushies can wait.

I drop the single bag of overnight toiletries and clothing as I am backed up against the bed, then drop my ass onto it. Seriously, this mattress feels like a cloud—with cool and crisp sheets, springy yet firm, embracing my butt like a set of pillowy hands.

Then Noah pushes me back, and the mattress receives the rest of my body as he crawls atop me, his lips never leaving mine.

I knew from all the flirtation in the restaurant that Noah had all sorts of thoughts tumbling around in his head. He kept tapping my feet under the table, then smiling not-so-innocently at me. He found any excuse he could to touch my hands. And when I fed him dessert, he took his sweet-ass time with each and every perfect little bite of decadence, despite his own initial embarrassment of being looked at.

Sometimes, it feels like the whole world is watching.

Sometimes, it feels like no one is, and it's just us, hiding away in our private oasis.

Noah wastes no time in peeling off my shirt. I have a suspicion it may be what he was envisioning doing to me the whole time at the restaurant, from the look in his eyes. I'm happy to return the favor, opening his shirt one button at a time, then peeling it back to reveal his bare chest. His nipples are irresistible to me. I sit up and taste them at once, like my favorite candy, as he clings to my body. I feel his nipples pebble under my tongue.

He takes hold of my face suddenly and pulls my face to his. "I want us to make love tonight."

I can't stop touching him. "Tonight?"

"Yes." He dives in for my ear where he gives the lobe a playful nip. "Please," he breathes into my ear, a soft and whimpering plea.

How can I possibly hope to resist Noah when he's practically grinding on my lap, his bare chest exposed to me, and his teeth on my earlobe?

I knew this was a possibility tonight. I didn't want to presume, but I wanted to leave the door open for him to decide whether we would have a night of kicking back and laughter and sour candies, or loss of breath, wet lips, and twisted bed sheets.

I came prepared for both.

"Noah …" I take hold of him by the waist and lift him into my arms, surprising him. Then I lay him down on the bed and sit next to him, my hand on his face. "If you're ready, only if you're truly ready and it's what you want …"

"It's what I want, and I'm ready." Then he reconsiders. "Well, I don't know if I'm ready. I have no idea if I'll ever know whether I'm ready, or what that even means. What does it mean exactly? To be ready? Ready for what? My body wants it. My mind, too. I can't stop thinking about it, the last several times we've been intimate. I feel like there's no one on this planet I'd rather experience it with than you, and what better time than right now? I mean, a meteor could crash into the Gulf tomorrow, and then where would we be? We'd be buried in salt water and silt. And I don't think I'd be much ready for anything in that condition. If we even survive. Would we survive? I'd hate to not survive and never have given away my virginity. So I think it's a fair assessment that I am ready—even if I'm not. Because if I'm not now, then I may never be, considering the meteor that could crash in the Gulf, regardless of its statistical probability, which in all fairness is quite low, and even still we—"

My finger gently presses to his lips.

His eyes snap to mine.

"I love your mind, Noah. I love listening to you work out all your questions in life like a math equation, or a piece of troubling code you're trying to solve. But now I'm going to need to use your own words on you." I lean forward, kiss him, then draw back just an inch to look into his eyes. "I need you to not be subtle. To not be ambiguous. To not be vague." I lift my eyebrows. "Are you sure you're ready tonight … for us … for you and me … to finally make love? Yes … or no?"

He appears amazed by my words somehow.

He appears content, safe, and thrilled to be where he is.

Then his face wrinkles up. "If you were paying attention, that was exactly what I was expressing with no subtlety at all. I want it to happen tonight. I want to give you my virginity. I am ready." His face softens. "Y'know … on account of the possible meteor."

"Am I that meteor?" I smirk as I put a kiss on his left cheek, then his right, then on the tip of his nose, which causes him to make an adorably funny face. "Am I about to crash into your Gulf and cause all kinds of havoc, Noah?"

"Metaphors are vague."

"Is it a metaphor? Maybe I'm a literal meteor, and you're a literal body of water …"

"We're all literal bodies of water, technically, as we're sixty percent comprised of it."

"Noah …"

"I'm nervous."

I meet his eyes. He's looking right at me, a sheen of light cast over the lenses of his glasses. His eyebrows pop up over the frames expectantly, making him look so adorable and innocent right now.

Of course he's nervous. That's why he's cutely rambling and thinking out loud. I knew that already.

"But," he goes on, "I'm also excited … very excited. And I'm … I'm very turned on, too. I feel my heart racing so fast, like I might explode if I close my mouth or something."

I caress his cheek, where I gently run my thumb over his lips. "You're so adorable, Noah."

"I am? I feel like I'm annoying and neurotic."

"Not even a little bit. What you're feeling is normal. It's okay to be nervous," I assure him as my thumb continues to graze over his soft lips. "Even if we start and you change your mind, we can stop. There aren't any rules to this. You're in charge."

"I remember telling you … that …"

"Yeah?"

"… that I wanted a guy who would take the lead. To make the moves. To show me what confidence is." He keeps looking at me as I softly outline his lips with my thumb. "I just want to thank you. I don't need to be the guy who is led anymore. I am more decisive, thanks to you. I am braver, too. Less afraid. I … I still get nervous," he admits, "but now I know what to do with those nerves. I know how to understand them. I know how to use them. Thank you for helping me out of the darkness, Cole."

I smile down at him, touched. "Noah …"

He takes my hand suddenly, stopping my thumb, catching me by surprise. "I even prepared before we left for our date. I stayed up last night and … and did research."

"You … prepared?"

"Down there. I'm ready." He sucks in his lip and peers down his bare chest. "I want to be completely yours, Cole. I want to feel you inside of me tonight. I want to feel you inside of me now. So there's my answer. My unambiguous answer. Yes … Yes."

My eyes grow wide.

Talk about no subtlety.

At once, he sits up and presses our faces together. I'm out of breath as he kisses me. Before I even realize we've moved, the two of us are on our feet getting the rest of our clothes off of us. While we make out, he can't seem to keep his hands off of my cock, his soft fingers twisting around it, gliding up and down its length with teasing, expert skill, bringing me immediately into the mindset. It is no time at all before I'm just as crazed for it as he is. I pull from his face for the minimal time required to grab a condom and lube from our overnight bag. He doesn't let go of me the entire time as I remove the condom from the wrapper and roll it down my hard, throbbing cock as he continues to torture me with his soft, sensual hands. He certainly doesn't shy away from communicating to me exactly what he wants.

The Noah in front of me isn't a different person.

He's simply showing a version of himself without walls of fear inhibiting his every thought and action.

He's more Noah now than he's ever allowed himself to be.

I lay him down on the bed once again, position myself over him, then gently lift and spread his legs as I lean forward, bringing our faces close. After I put some lube on my fingers, I kiss Noah and tell him, "This first helping isn't for me. It's for you, and fair warning, it'll be cold for a second."

My fingers touch his hole.

His eyes grow wide with surprise.

That surprise is quickly turned into pleasure as the tip of one of my fingers slides inside, and I watch his eyes rock back. I take my time, in no rush at all, as my slippery, teasing fingers gently play around his hole. Despite my fingers causing his eyes to rock back, he keeps snapping his gaze to me, his eyes appearing to be his only means of communication when words fail him.

When I slide a second finger in, he bites his lip and suppresses a moan. I'm surprised at how quickly he's relaxing, loosening up down there. It's not much longer before I know he's ready for me.

"Are you ready, Noah?"

He responds with the sweetest whimper and a nod, his eyes locked onto mine.

My fingers are seamlessly replaced with the tip of my cock. I apply very little pressure down there as I stay focused on his face, reading every little change, being as responsible as I can be. When it comes to Noah, it's easy to care for him. It's as natural to me as breathing. My hips gently rock, feeling as my tip keeps teasing its way in and out ever so slightly. Not one muscle in his body seems to resist me. If anything, I could probably be less gentle.

But I'm going at his pace. I'm reading his expressions. I want to be completely in sync with Noah as we explore this together.

More of me slides inside without warning. Noah groans with delight, his fingers clawing into my arms where he can reach. It's more than obvious that I'm being given permission to up the pace.

He's done with baby steps.

I give my thrusts more strength, letting myself in deeper and deeper with each move. The smile that spreads over Noah's face says it all. The glimmer in his eyes, too.

We're absolutely connected with one another.

I reach between our bodies and take his cock into my hand, which seems to surprise him, and begin stroking. I match our pace together. When I sense he wants more, I stroke faster and thrust deeper. I listen with more than my ears, keeping my eyes trained to his and relishing in every moan, sigh, and licking of his lips.

"I'm already close," he realizes. "Is it too soon?"

"We can enjoy this for as long as you want," I tell him, "and as many times as you want. I'm with you for every moment, Noah."

"I love hearing you say my name."

"Yeah?" I bring my face closer, grinning. "Noah …?"

"Careful."

"Is that getting you even closer … Noah …?"

"Mmm, Cole …" He clenches shut his eyes. "C-Cole …"

"I like when you say my name, too."

It isn't a lie. Each time I hear him whimper my name like that, I feel my whole body respond, like I'm a battery charged to the max, churning with excitement that makes me feel both amazing and capable of anything. With each sound and facial expression he makes, I slip closer and closer to the edge.

"Cole …" he whimpers.

He's there. I am, too. "Noah …"

The next instant, he grips my face and pulls our lips together. The kiss is the trigger: we both reach our climaxes at once. I feel his mouth vibrate as he moans against my face. My breaths skitter through my nostrils as I shake with my release, emptying every bit of pressure that has built up in my body through the course of our evening together. Noah erupts between our bodies, spilling himself powerfully across his abs and hitting my chest.

I stay inside him as I watch the emotions rush across his face.

It's a beautiful kind of storm. I could watch it all night.

When he recovers, he focuses on me, then lets out a laugh of disbelief. I smile, gently slip out, tie off and discard the condom, then wrap him back up in my arms and squeeze my boy tightly against me, a warm and passionate embrace, all of our messy love and sweat between us. He sighs over my shoulder with delight.

"Was it all you dreamed?" I ask into his ear.

He chuckles again, likely feeling the same happy aftershocks bouncing around through his body. "I think it is a mathematical certainty that that was one of the best feelings I've ever had in my whole life." Then he sighs. "I don't envy the hardworking people who have to clean these rooms. It's no mystery what couples do in rooms like these. The bed is literally the center focal point of the entire suite. We're going to destroy these sheets."

"We already have," I murmur sweetly in his ear.

"And I think, provided my levels of excitement and how fast my stamina is replenishing, I may be up for a second round in one hour, maybe less."

I grin. "Ambitious."

"Never underestimate a quiet guy with an overactive libido."

With that, he grabs me and, with a strength I didn't know him to be capable of, rolls us over. I laugh against him as he dives into my neck with kisses, growling with delight and ferocity.

I hope this night never ends.

It's many hours (and one or two more rounds) later that the pair of us cuddle up in the Jacuzzi on the balcony. I'm stroking his wet hair as we gaze at the distant stars. "Cole," he says against my side, "there's something you said to me the night before I left, just before the pageant. My cheek was pressed to your heart, counting the beats … and you said something to me …"

I stop stroking his hair, surprised.

That was the night I said to him—

"I heard you," Noah tells me. "And I love you, too."