Fic: No Substitute (WARNING! READ AT OWN RISK!)
Just to be consistent, I'm bringing over my last ATWT-related fic from IJ to share. But there's no Luke or Reid, so you've been warned.
Background: For a friend's birthday, I gave her a pic-a-fic present - she randomly chose two characters off a list of ten, one scenario off a list of five, and a rating. What did I end up with?
Roman (AWZ) and Noah (ATWT) bake a cake. NC-17.
First thought? Kill me now.
But I wrote it, and despite the cracktastic premise, I'm actually proud of the final product. (And I say that as a non-Noah fan in any way, shape or form.)
So, here it is. Enjoy?
Title: NO SUBSTITUTE
Author: ktbob
Fandom/Characters: Roman Wild, Alles Was Zählt/Noah Mayer, As The World Turns
Word Count: 5000 words
Rating: OMG WOMAN ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME? aka NC-17
Summary: Roman and Noah bake a cake. /facepalm
Disclaimer: These characters are owned by other people, who would DEFINITELY kill me if they had any idea what I was doing with them.
A/N: Noah? Roman? Cake? NC-17? Oh, holy gods, this prompt just about killed me. But I did it, even though it was way longer than I expected because I had to figure out how they ended up in the kitchen in the first place. I'm rather pleased with the result, though, so I hope you enjoy it. :)
When the inevitable happened and his world came crashing down around him, he knew there was only one thing he could do.
He had to leave Essen.
He couldn't stay; there was no way he could keep running into Deniz, seeing those hollow eyes glance quickly away as soon as he came into view. He couldn't walk past the train station without remembering the last time he'd seen Marc, head bowed, shoulders heavy, as he walked away. He couldn't see the places they'd been together, with Deniz, with Marc, without hating himself for stringing them both along as he took forever to make up his mind. He couldn't feel the weight of his former friends' disappointment with every step he took. Everyone looking at him, judging him, finding him wanting.
It wasn't anything he didn't think about himself, of course, but the constant reminders of just how utterly he'd fucked everything up were too much to bear.
So when the job offer showed up in his e-mail, from Chicago of all places, he closed his eyes and jumped.
###
It was a decent job, by any standards. The facility was state of the art, and the skaters were, unbelievably, professional and easy to work with. No one had taken a tire iron to anyone's extremities in the six months he'd been there, which was nice.
He had arrived with a rudimentary knowledge of English and two suitcases. He had enough emotional baggage; he didn't need to drag the physical baggage along with him, too. It was time for a fresh start. (The fact that most of his crap had been left behind in the flat he'd shared with Deniz was part of it as well, if he was honest with himself. And these days, he was rarely less than honest.)
Inevitably, he hadn't been able to escape Essen completely. Nina, delighted that they were back on the same continent, scheduled her stopovers in Chicago so that they'd have time to meet up for a drink or two on the way to her once-monthly trips to Boston. Vanessa, more agnostic about the whole situation given her history with two of the three players, had still stopped in once or twice on her way to visit Nina in LA. He'd even bumped into Lars once at a skating association event (though luckily Stella had stayed behind in Canada. He'd put up with her for Lars' sake, and Deniz's, but they'd never been the best of friends).
But for the most part, he'd jettisoned a social life when he'd reinvented himself once again, this time in the US. And that suited him just fine.
###
The ice rink was an easy walk down to the lake, and he'd taken to going for a run during his free hour. He liked the movement, the breath in his lungs, the mindless step-after-step that kept him from *thinking* too much.
It was a routine, most days, unless the weather was really crap and forced him inside. After a while, he started noticing people. Particularly the young man with the video camera who appeared to have set up camp on the park bench just across the way from Roman's turn-around spot.
He was there almost every day, camera in hand, filming the trees or the water or just people passing by. It seemed a little pointless, since nothing much exciting ever happened, but it was interesting to see that same intensity on his face that was visible every day in the ice rink.
The young man had found his passion. Good luck with that, he thought as he jogged past. Doesn't always turn out the way you expect it to.
###
He looked at the park bench out of the corner of his eye as he reached the midpoint of his run and turned around. The dark haired boy had his camera up, and this time it was trained on him.
Fuck this. He stopped in front of the bench and crossed his arms over his chest. "That could be considered an invasion of privacy," he said.
The camera guy fumbled his equipment a little, cheeks flushing red. "Uh, sorry," he stammered. "I wasn't trying to… I mean, it wasn't… Sorry."
"Why were you filming me?" He narrowed his eyes. "Do I even know you?"
"Uhm, no. You don't." The boy stood, his lean body unfolding from the bench. He was a good six inches taller than him. "I'm in a film program at SAIC. Uh, the School of Art Institute of Chicago. I'm just working on something for class."
"Okay." He shrugged and turned away, gearing up to start running again. To his surprise, the young man followed, stopping in front of him and thrusting out his hand. Bemused, he shook it.
"What's your name?"
"Roman. Roman Wild."
He had a good, strong grip. "Nice to meet you, Roman Wild. I'm Noah Mayer."
###
They spoke again the next day.
And the day after that.
The day after that, Noah invited him for a drink after work. To his surprise, Roman accepted.
###
For the most part, it was an easy friendship. Noah didn't ask for much more than conversation and a little companionship; Roman didn't have much more than that to give. And it was nice to spend time with someone so different, someone who wasn't woven into the very fabric of his existence. If either of them were removed, the other wouldn't unravel completely.
It was a good thing.
###
He wasn't an idiot. He knew that anyone looking at them from the outside would see the similarities. Tall. A bit gangly. Dark hair that tended to stick up. And young. So very, very young.
Personality-wise, of course, Noah was nothing like Deniz. Serious to the point of pedantry sometimes, less bouncy, more reserved. That was what Roman held onto, during the moments he had to convince himself that he wasn't really looking for a replacement. That he didn't need a pseudo-Deniz to make him happy.
Most of the time, though, he just didn't think about it at all.
###
The first time Noah kissed him, they were at the dining room table in Noah's student apartment. They'd just finished eating a truly excellent pizza while arguing over the best movie of the 1990s (Noah said Speed, for the cinematography; Roman insisted it was Dances with Wolves) and Roman was trying to decide whether he should leave now or wait a while. He made a move to stand, but it was preempted by warm, open lips covering his.
He would have been shocked, but a part of him had always known it was leading to this, and besides, it was rather nice to actually feel something again. So before Noah could withdraw in embarrassment, Roman curved a hand around the base of his neck and kissed him back.
###
The first time they did more than kiss, they were both a little drunk. Noah had gotten an A on the film project he'd been obsessing over for at least a month; one of Roman's skaters had qualified for a major competition. Noah had shown up at Roman's apartment with a bottle of champagne and takeout Chinese food, and they'd spent the next hour drinking straight from the bottle and laughing at each other's attempts to use the chopsticks effectively.
There was a Cubs game on the television, which held absolutely no interest for Roman, but he didn't mind it as background noise. He tipped the champagne bottle up and drained it, then set it down on the floor next to the sofa where he sat, bare feet propped on one armrest, head leaning back against the other.
"Dude. You drank it all?" Noah reached over from the easy chair and grabbed the bottle. He gazed at it a little owlishly. "Not very nice of you."
"Who ever told you I was nice?"
And when Noah laughed, Roman laughed along with him, though he hadn't really meant it as a joke.
"Seriously, though, I can't believe you didn't save me even a little." He tipped his head back and held the bottle upside down over his opened mouth. Only a few drops came out. "You owe me."
"I owe you." Roman rolled his eyes. "What, exactly, do I owe you?"
Noah dropped the bottle on the floor and slouched down, resting his head on the back of the easy chair. "I don't know. Another bottle?"
Roman looked him up and down. The young man was damned attractive. And it had been a really, really long time.
"How about a blow job instead? Would that pay off my debt?"
Noah's eyes slowly blinked open. He turned his head slightly and stared at Roman. Roman took great pleasure in the flush of red creeping up Noah's cheekbones. "Uh…"
Roman held up a hand. "No, sorry, I shouldn't have offered. Clearly you're not interested."
Noah was off the chair and straddling him before he finished the sentence.
###
Afterward, as they both lay panting on the couch, Roman stroked Noah's hair absently. He was a sweet boy, if a bit reserved; even after his enthusiastic 'yes' he still never really let himself go completely. Roman suspected that Noah was even more inexperienced than he'd originally thought. There were times, while he was taking Noah's cock as far down his throat as he could - and it had been a long time; he was a bit out of practice, to be honest - that he thought the boy was going to leap right out of his skin. He wondered just how many partners Noah had had.
He wasn't going to ask, of course. Theirs wasn't that kind of relationship.
If you could even call it that.
###
The first time he saw Noah really get stressed over something other than school was about two weeks after the Blow Job Incident, as Roman had taken to referring to it, at least in his own head.
Noah was clearly still processing things, since Roman hadn't seen him since that night. He wished that the boy would stop thinking so damned much. This was supposed to be casual. Meaningless. Friends with benefits.
"I need you to come to dinner with me tonight," Noah said, bursting through the doorway and stalking down the hall to Roman's kitchen. "Please."
"Why?" Roman shut the door and followed him. Noah had already grabbed a beer (pale, thin, flavorless imitation, but you learn to make do) out of the fridge and popped off the top. "You sure you wouldn't rather just stay in?"
Noah shot him a look over the top of the bottle. "Of course I would. But I can't."
"Who will be joining us?"
He sighed and shut his eyes briefly. "My ex-boyfriend."
Inwardly, Roman shuddered. He couldn't imagine anything more uncomfortable.
"And his current boyfriend."
Okay, that would top it.
"The doctor who restored my eyesight."
Roman glanced at him, brow furrowed. He'd known about Noah's accident and subsequent surgery, but the word "boyfriend" had never been attached to the story.
Maybe now he understood why.
"Is there a reason you accepted this dinner invitation? Because frankly, I can't think of anywhere I'd less like to be than in a restaurant with my ex and his partner."
This, at least, was the honest truth. Annette still wrote to him from time to time, and bits and pieces of gossip always worked their way into her letters and e-mails. He wasn't sure why he'd been so gutted to learn that Deniz had moved on, and with Oliver Sommer of all people.
Thank god he'd moved across the ocean to avoid situations exactly like the one Noah was walking into tonight. And dragging him along to boot.
"They're in town for a medical convention or something and wanted to catch up. I just - couldn't say no."
"Of course you could. It's a very simple word. Here, I'll demonstrate. No, Noah, I won't go to dinner with you and your ex and his boyfriend."
But then Noah looked at him with his Sad Eyebrows expression and he could just feel himself caving. "Fine," he muttered. "But this time, you're going to be the one owing me."
###
Noah's ex-boyfriend's current boyfriend was just about the rudest person Roman had ever met. And that was saying something.
Of course, they were fast friends within a matter of minutes.
Noah's ex was a different story. Friendly, cheerful, animated, he pretty much made Roman's teeth ache just watching him, like an overdose of candy floss.
And watch him he did. He watched his expressions, he watched him interact with Reid and Noah and the waiter and anyone who came within a two-mile radius of their table, he watched the way the fading sun caught the highlights in his hair through the picture window overlooking Lake Michigan. He noted the light hair color, the height, the way he talked with his hands. And then he documented all of the ways Luke Snyder was nothing like him, in exactly the way that Noah was nothing like Deniz. Nothing at all, except on the surface.
Of course, since both he and Noah were determined to keep everything about this - this thing between them - on the surface, it was pretty clear that both of them were utterly screwed.
###
Noah came back to Roman's apartment after the dinner. He followed Roman into the kitchen and sat down heavily in the closest chair, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.
"Here." Roman pressed a bottle of beer into Noah's unresisting hand. "I think you've earned this."
Noah shook his head slowly. "That was harder than I thought it would be."
"Situations like that usually are." Roman sat down in the chair opposite and opened his own beer. "Which is why they're probably best avoided."
Noah cracked one eye open and smiled at Roman. "Thanks for coming with, regardless. It was nice not to be the pathetic, lonely ex this time around."
Roman really didn't want to think about what that made him in relation to Noah. It was easier to keep everything on the surface, just acquaintances, with, hopefully, a continuation of the benefits they'd began the other night.
"My pleasure," Roman said, tapping his bottle against Noah's. "And that reminds me…"
He took the bottle out of Noah's hand and linked their fingers together, tugging Noah out of his seat. "Seems like now would be a good time to collect on that debt you owe me."
Roman headed down the hall to the bedroom, dragging a laughing Noah behind him.
###
Summer turned to fall, then winter. Roman's skaters performed well in the regional championships; Noah's film won a couple of awards. They continued to hang out together, sometimes naked, sometimes not. It was a flexible thing, this whatever-it-was, moving from acquaintances to friends to lovers and back again, sometimes in the same evening. They had moved from occasional blowjobs to full-on sex, though Noah always refused to bottom and Roman still shook his head at how repressed the boy was about sexuality. He may have been gay, but he was still quite the prude. He'd finally gotten to the point where he'd let Roman finger him once in a while, but that was as far as it had gotten. It was almost as if he had a specific role during sex, and wasn't willing or able to break out of it.
Still, it worked for them. Especially since they never talked about it.
The holidays were approaching. Nina had invited Roman to join her and Vanessa in L.A. for Christmas, but he'd turned her down. He didn't want to intrude, and besides, the week between Christmas and New Year's would be a good time to get some prep work done while his skaters were off celebrating.
Noah had been pretty distant lately, though that wasn't unusual. He had a pretty strong independent streak, and needed his space more often than not. He'd been invited back to Oakdale for the holidays, by Luke's family, of all people. Roman thought that was pretty strange, but who was he to judge?
So when the phone rang on Christmas Eve, the last person he expected to be on the other end of the line was Noah.
"How's Oakdale?" Roman sat down in the easy chair, feet propped up on the table in front of him. "Spending lots of time with Luke and Dr. Rude?"
Noah was silent for a moment. "I didn't go."
Roman sat forward, his feet dropping to the floor. "But I thought…"
"That wasn't where I wanted to be." Noah cleared his throat. "I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow. Nothing fancy, just a smoked turkey from the deli and some trimmings."
"Uhm, sure," Roman said slowly. "Can I bring anything? A pie or something?"
"No, don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything. Just bring yourself."
A few moments of idle chit-chat, and Noah rang off, leaving Roman more confused than ever.
###
Roman rang the bell at precisely noon. The morning had been spent exchanging holiday greetings with his friends back home, most of whom had unbent enough to forgive him his transgressions, the decision to move across the world currently the one looming largest in their minds. He laughed at Annette's new earrings over Skype and promised Katja via e-mail that he'd find her at the world championships for a hug even though he'd "defected to the dark side", as she put it. Nina had even called from L.A., tormenting him with detailed descriptions of the beach house where she and Vanessa were spending the holidays. Deniz wasn't the only one who'd done well with Male Function.
"Coming," Noah said, his voice muffled by the closed door. His footsteps grew louder until he flung the door open.
Roman snorted out a laugh before he managed to slap a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his reaction under control.
"Fine," Noah muttered. "Go ahead, laugh." He spun around, his arms outstretched, so Roman could get the full effect.
Noah was covered from head to toe with flour, his long lashes looking incongruously dark against the pale dusting on his cheeks. A streak of what looked like batter decorated the front of his sweater, and more dripped from the spatula he held in his hand. He had a tea towel thrown over one shoulder, though judging by the rest of his outfit, it wasn't doing much good.
"Merry Christmas," Roman said, leaning forward and kissing Noah on the cheek, leaving a lip-shaped imprint in the flour there. "Looks like you've been in battle in the kitchen -and the kitchen won."
"Shut up," Noah replied, pulling the towel off his shoulder and hitting Roman with it. "I'm trying to make dessert."
Roman grabbed the towel out of his hand and handed him a wrapped package in its place. "I told you I'd bring a pie," he admonished, shaking his head.
Noah blushed. Or at least Roman thought he did, under all that flour. "Thanks," he said, lifting the package in acknowledgement. Then he changed topic again. "It's just a cake," he said. "I didn't think it would be this complicated to make."
Roman followed him down the hall to the tiny kitchen, biting his lip to keep from laughing at the disaster that awaited him. Flour coated every surface, and tiny dots of batter clung to the cupboards above the mixing bowl. No fewer than eight dishes in various states of disarray covered the counter. He shook his head again. "Right, then. Clearly, you need an assistant. Why don't you put me to work?"
"Oh, I couldn't," Noah protested, but Roman was already removing his coat (and putting it in another room. He wasn't stupid, after all). He pushed up his sleeves and looked at Noah expectantly.
"All right," Noah said with something less than graciousness. "Here. Maybe you can grease and flour the pans for me."
Roman rolled his eyes at Noah's petulant response. He wasn't surprised, though. The younger man was all about doing everything on his own. But even loners need a little help, once in a while.
###
"I don't think that's right."
"Of course it's right. I'm looking at the recipe. It's right in front of me."
"But the oven needs to reach the right temperature first."
"Oh, come on."
Noah spread the batter in the cake pan once again, apparently trying to win a medal for smoothest cake top or something. "I just want this to be perfect."
Roman smiled indulgently. With a wave of the hand, he indicated the disaster that was Noah's kitchen. "Really?"
Noah wrinkled his nose at Roman. "Brat."
"Takes one to know one." Roman leaned over Noah's shoulder and looked at the cake pan. He reached down and swiped a little batter, sticking his finger in his mouth. "Damn, that's good."
"Hey!" Noah smacked his hand with the spatula. "You're messing up the cake."
"It's not even baked yet. How can I mess it up?" He reached for another scoop of batter, but Noah blocked him, laughing.
"It's gonna be all, I don't know, lumpy or something. And how do I even know if your fingers are clean?"
Roman ducked under his arm and took a little more. He held it up, taunting Noah with it. "Mmm… tasty…."
Noah grabbed his wrist and held on, his eyes darkening. "Let me, uhm, try." He blushed, biting his lower lip, as he hesitated. Then, slowly, he leaned forward and licked Roman's finger, sucking it into his mouth, cleaning off every last trace of cake batter, watching Roman's face the entire time.
When his finger slid out of Noah's mouth with a little pop, Roman replaced it with his tongue, chasing the sweet flavor of cake batter around Noah's mouth. He tangled his fingers in Noah's hair, a dusting of flour drifting down around them as they kissed. Noah tugged him forward, his hands tight on Roman's hips. Breathing hard, they broke apart, foreheads touching. "Very tasty," Noah panted.
"I'll have to thank whoever gave you the recipe," Roman replied. He slid his free hand down Noah's back, pulling him even closer.
Noah reached behind him for a little more batter, painting it on Roman's lower lip and then licking it off, their tongues battling for the sweet treat. "Emma," he said, biting Roman's jaw lightly. "Luke's grandma. It was his favorite Christmas dish."
Roman froze. Then, quietly, he pulled away.
"Roman?" Noah blinked twice, his eyes hazed with lust. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing." I won't be a substitute, he thought, though he had no right to demand that of Noah. As long as they ignored the issue, he had no right to demand anything of Noah, at all.
Leaning forward again, he kissed Noah firmly, his hands unbuttoning Noah's shirt. When it was fully open, he pushed it off his shoulders, letting the plaid fabric drop to the floor. Then he started in on Noah's belt.
"Bedroom?"
He nodded absently, all his attention on Noah's clothing. Noah skipped back a step or two, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall to the tiny bedroom.
The bed had been haphazardly made, covers and pillows both a little disordered. Roman sat down on the edge to remove his shoes. Shirt and pants followed in quick succession, while Noah finished what Roman had started in the kitchen. In moments, they were both naked, Noah reaching into the bedside drawer for a condom and some lube.
Roman crawled up onto the bed and took them out of Noah's hands. Noah leaned back, clearly expecting Roman to roll the condom onto his cock for him. Instead, Roman covered himself and flipped the top of the lube container open.
"Hey, wait," Noah protested. "I'm not, I mean, I never…"
"I know," Roman said, slicking his hand up and down his aching prick. He hissed in a breath at the contact. "You've never. You and Luke." He spat the name out like a curse.
Noah scooted back on the bed, pressed himself up against the headboard. His eyes were wide and a little scared. "What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing." Roman reached out and touched him, just a light touch on his knee, but contact nonetheless. "Except I think that had more to do with you needing to keep control. And Luke always let you."
"You don't know anything about me and Luke," he argued, though there wasn't much heat behind it.
"Maybe not. But I do know a little about you. And me. I think you want to let go, lose control, at least once in a while. And I'm no one's full time sub."
"What?" Noah's brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Noah. I need to be in control for once. I need this." Roman leaned forward, his breath hot on Noah's skin. "And so do you."
Noah swallowed audibly, his gaze never leaving Roman's face.
"Shh," Roman soothed, tracing one finger up Noah's thigh. He barely grazed Noah's already hard cock, which twitched at the contact. "Just let go, Noah."
"Luke never…"
"Fuck Luke. You know what? I'm not him. And you're not…"
Noah squinted at him. "Not who?"
Roman closed his eyes. "Someone from my past," he said finally. Then he placed his hand in the middle of Noah's chest and pressed until he was lying on the bed again. He stretched out next to him, running one finger around Noah's nipples. "So let me be me today," he whispered. "And…well, and just let me, okay?"
Noah stared at him, his eyes wide. Roman slid his hand lower, across Noah's taut stomach, to the juncture of his thighs, until he encircled Noah's cock. He stroked it a few times, drawing a groan from Noah, then he moved even lower. He danced his fingers over Noah's balls, playing with them, then slid one finger down to stroke his entrance.
He looked at Noah. Moments passed, and then, almost imperceptibly, Noah nodded.
Noah squirmed under him, gasping, as he slicked his finger with some more lube and pressed inside. Noah was tight, and tense, so he just held steady as he kissed Noah for long moments. After a while he could feel his younger lover relax, and he began to slide the finger in and out, crooking it slightly. Noah panted into his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut, as Roman added a second finger, preparing him.
He pinched Noah's nipple lightly, nipped at his lower lip. He slid his tongue into Noah's mouth in the same rhythm his fingers kept, pumping in and out over and over until Noah was lifting his hips in unconscious time with his thrusts. He pulled out and knelt between Noah's legs, lifting his hips up with a pillow as he slid inside.
Slowly, so slowly, he pressed forward, closing his eyes at the sensation of being surrounded by tight heat again. It had been so long…
Pushing the thought aside, he focused on his partner, stopping frequently to give him a chance to acclimate to this new sensation. Once he was fully seated inside Noah, he leaned forward and touched his face.
Noah looked up at him, his eyes dark and glazed. "Roman," he breathed. "Oh, my God. Roman."
Something broke then, something that had been building in Roman for longer than he could remember. Pulling back, he thrust forward again, tugging a groan from Noah that was more pleasure than pain. Slowly at first, then building up speed, he set a rhythm as he fucked Noah, one leg pressed back, one wrapped around his waist, his hand stroking the other man's cock as he thrust and thrust and thrust. He thumbed the top of Noah's cock, slick with pre-come, and raised his hand to his mouth to lick it off. "Tasty," he murmured, reaching down to pump him again.
The younger man's moans were getting louder and louder, his head thrown back, gasping for air. Roman could feel his orgasm building, and started jacking Noah even faster, wanting him to come first. "Noah," he said, leaning forward. "Look at me."
Noah's eyes fluttered open, and he came in long spurts, his body shaking. Roman tumbled moments later, pressing his forehead to the crook of Noah's neck.
They lay together for long moments, breath harsh, pulses pounding, tangled on top of Noah's bed. Noah made a little noise of protest as Roman pulled out, grabbing for him as he slid out of the bed. Roman stepped into the adjoining bathroom and cleaned up, then returned to the bedroom. Noah reached up and tugged him back onto the bed. He pulled the covers over them both and tucked Roman into the curve of his arm. "Stay," he whispered.
The pale winter light faded. The cake batter sat forgotten on the counter in the kitchen. And as Noah slipped into a light sleep, Roman stared at the ceiling.
Amazing how something so intimate could leave him feeling so - empty. So alone.
Somewhere in Essen, Deniz and Oliver had likely finished their first Christmas together; back in Oakdale, Luke and Reid were doing the same. And he and Noah?
Even now, sated and slumbering, lying in Noah's bed with their limbs entangled, they weren't really together. Which was okay. It was what they both wanted.
But Roman couldn't articulate what it was he did want. With Noah, without him, it didn't matter. He still felt adrift and searching for an anchor.
If he was honest with himself - and he usually was, these days - Noah couldn't be that anchor for him. Any more than he could be Noah's anchor in return. The two of them were more like each other in that respect, untethered, not good material to tie oneself to.
Still, perhaps together they could learn how to be themselves without Deniz, without Luke. Until someday they could find a way to live without them.
Sighing, he turned onto his side and slid his arm around Noah's bare torso. For now, for the moment, this was enough.