Page 37 of Noah

Julian choked on a groan, lapping and sucking at me. Pulse after pulse landed in his mouth.

I felt like I'd run a marathon. No ability to move whatsoever. I melted into the mattress, panting and swallowing against the dryness in my throat.

A warm body nestled into my side, and I mustered the strength to wrap my arms around him. The A/C was hitting us pretty hard, so I yanked the covers over us, too.

"Jesus fuck," I coughed.

Julian laughed softly and kissed my neck. "You're so intense."

That was a new one. "What do you mean?" I yawned and found a good spot on the pillow where I could breathe him in and kiss him on the forehead.

"I can't explain it. It's…passion, I suppose?" He lifted his head to look me in the eye. "Uninhibited. Even with men… Or me, anyway. Has it always been like that when you fuck guys?"

I chuckled drowsily and rubbed my eyes. "I'm not in the habit of having sex with men. I just don't rule it out. Call me an opportunist." I stroked his cheek. "I love sex, Julian. Always have. I go all in if it feels right." It had felt too right with him, though. "With you…" I had to find the words that wouldn't hurt him. "In a way, it was almost about survival. I can't remember the last time I actually needed to be with someone. I've had nightmares about it for weeks."

"I know." He smiled ruefully. "It's the family thing, right?"

"Not a small thing," I murmured. "But yeah."

Imagine if our family knew? That broke my fucking heart.

"I understand. Really." He lay down and looked up at the ceiling. "It's been sort of the same for me, though…with some minor differences. But anyway, it was like when I lost Linda at the park once. When we found her again, I didn't leave her side for a week. I hugged her until she got sick of me, and I sometimes set the alarm to check in on her while she slept."

Those were the exact words I needed to hear, and I didn't even know. It described this—all of this—perfectly. "You did it to assure yourself she was still there."

"Yes." He tilted his head my way, pensive. A bit of the apprehension was back. "So I get it, Noah—I do. But I'm still gay, and I've had a fucked-up crush on you since I was sixteen."

I blanched while his cheeks burned red. It was a cold-shower moment, but not entirely uncomfortable. Shocking as hell, though.

"That’s fucking weird, kid," I said, fighting a smile. Okay, I was kinda flattered. It was weird—beyond weird—but that didn't make my pride swell any less.

He laughed. "You say that right after you had your tongue in my ass." Touché. His expression softened, and he blew out a breath. "It was a relief getting that off my chest."

That killed the humor, and I kissed him chastely. "I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't. I was freaked out—so much so that I didn't show up at reunions." Ah…so that answered that. Damn. He sighed and looked up again. "It's different now. You don't have to feel bad about telling me this was a one-time thing. I already knew that."

I frowned, mulling shit over. "What do you mean by different?"

"I guess…we all have infatuations? But it's different because of everything." He seemed to struggle with his words. "I'm a mess. So are you." Painfully true. "Before, you were barely real. You were this so-called uncle who lived and worked in Hollywood and partied with movie stars. Mom was always bragging about you, and when I saw you—before I figured out I was gay—you were intimidating. There was a constant spotlight over your head at reunions. You were accompanied by a loud buzz."

The life of the party.

"People are drawn to you," he added thoughtfully. "And now…"

I cocked half a smile. "Now I'm real?"

He nodded and shifted closer again. "Very." He kissed my chest. "There's life to consider. Everything we've been through… I doubt it's healthy for us to rely too much on each other. But because I'm so attracted to you, it needs to be a clean break." He peered up at me. "I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, but I need to find my own friends and social life, which…" He made a face there. "I'm not very social to begin with, but closing myself in would probably do more harm than good."

I squeezed him to me, 'cause time was evidently running out. "I get it." And the irony wasn't lost on me. I'd felt like I was the one who would put a stop to things, and maybe I kinda had, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling of being dumped. Not in a harsh way, fucking clearly.

He was right. We both were. Getting attached and building something based on grief and loneliness could only lead to disaster. I was thrilled he wasn't moving anywhere else, but having our separate social lives would probably help.

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