Fic: The Interview (Luke/Noah AU) (Part 4)
Title: The Interview (Part 4)
Author: nouveau_monday
Pairing: Noah/Luke (Noah/OMC <-- Noah's a rentboy. These things will happen.)
Rating: NC-17 for content
Word Count: 3.5kish
Summary: A start
Spoilers: This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.
Disclaimer: As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P&G and possibly others, but definitely not me. That is the real travesty of all of this.
Notes: Thank you so much to mightyten for being a great beta, especially when I whine all the time. And she's ridiculously busy. And she still did this. Because she rocks.
"What was that about?"
Luke shakes his head. His neck burns where Noah had licked it. Fucking licked him. "Umm, that was, uhh, something." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Just some guy. I must have left," he looks down at the tape recorder bound tightly in his fingers. "Must have left this with him. No biggie."
Reg fixes Luke with one of his yeah-whatever stares. "Uh huh. Mr. Journalism Major. Mr. I Need A Kick Ass Project To Get That WOAK Internship. You just left your tape recorder there. I swear, you must take that thing to bed with you."
"Hey!" Luke punches Reg's shoulder even while his face flushes. He'd only taken it to bed once, and that had been an accident. How much had he gotten? His dick was half hard. He wanted to be in his room, somewhere, anywhere really, where he could listen to what was on the tape. "Shut up."
"What? Seriously Luke, when was the last time you got laid? I know you still aren't pining over that douchebag ex of yours." Reg keeps his arm around Luke's waist. "Let's get you something to drink. You can tell me who that guy was, and no bullshit this time."
"He's just some guy. I told you. Lay off it, Reg." They make their way to the counter. "Hey Roth. Can I have -"
"Some weird hazelnut-macadamia-caramel-chocolate thing with whipped creams and sprinkles?" Roth grins and winks. "Saw the floor show at the door and thought you might need this." He passes it over, whipped cream elaborately decorated with rainbow sprinkles. "You'll like it, blasphemer of all things coffee." His smile falters. "Hi Reg. Large coffee, seven and seven right?"
"You're an ass, Roth." Luke dips his finger into the top of his drink and threatens to smear it on his friend's nose. "But you know I love you anyway."
"Speaking of ..." Roth cocks his head.
Luke hurries to interrupt. "Not now. Later. We'll find time later." Without Reg. Without anyone. Because Roth will understand. I may never wash my neck again. "Reg and I need to plan our world domination, starting with WOAK. If you get a break, come join?"
"Sure thing." He hands off a tall ceramic mug to Reg. "That'll be two fifty."
Reg frowns, but drops money on the counter. "Whatever man. Keep the change." Luke barely has time to make a what-the-fuck face at Roth before he's being dragged over to a table. "What's his damage? Someone piss in his cereal this morning?"
"Don't worry about it. He and I just need to talk. It's nothing. Come on, focus Reg. Ignore Roth. I'm serious about WOAK world domination. I want this so bad."
"Sure helps when your mom owned part of it, and you're fucking related to the anchors." Reg slurps at his coffee, makes a face. "Jesus, does Roth burn this twice before pouring it? Seriously, what the fuck? This is disgusting." He shudders. "It's like licking the bottom of a toaster."
"And you would know this how, precisely?" Luke wonders.
"Shut up and hand over the girly shit." Reg swipes Luke's cup, sucks deep from the straw. "That almost takes the edge off." He glares at the counter where Roth watches them. "Swear to god, Luke, he does this shit on purpose."
"Of course he does, Baby." Luke pats Reg's hand. "The big mean old Roth just wants to serve you bitter coffee." The bitch of it is, Reg doesn't know how right he is. Luke tries not to laugh, bites his cheeks, thinks of starving puppies. It works a little. He knows they never got along. He doesn't pry, doesn't want to know the dirty secret that causes such a rift between those two. "Do you want me to get you a new cup. Would that help?"
Reg pouts. "Would you?"
"Yes." He holds out his hand. "As long as you promise to take this seriously. I want the internship. Now how are we going to get it?"
*****
Noah jams his hands in his pockets. "Shit, shit, shit." It's been three hours since he left Java and still. He leans against the brick of his new wall. He should get coffee, he knows that. Something to warm him up would be good. But nothing, nothing at all, can offset the flavor of salt and sweet skin tingling on his goddamned tongue. He scuffs his heel and hopes that the test run of his new spot will be good.
"Hey, you got a light?"
He's shorter than Noah. A little too slick, too expensive. Rent! Noah flips his Zippo from his back pocket. "I do indeed." He peels himself from the wall slowly, lets the guy get a good long look. He lets his eyes rake over dark hair, stocky muscles, the EMT jacket. "Didn't anyone ever tell you smoking was bad for you?" He laughs from low in his throat. "Surely in your profession ..." Noah runs his tongue over his upper lip, while he flicks the lighter between his fingers and pops it open. "Come out of the wind a minute, it'll make it easier."
The guy smiles. "Bet it will. The wind's a bitch tonight. Made driving the truck awful." He holds the cigarette between his teeth and leans into the flame between Noah's cupped hands.
Watching the first deep breath has Noah aching for a puff, and the exhale? The cloying sweet burn of clove cigarettes fills his nostrils and has him practically drooling. He doesn't even bother to hide his sigh. "You drive the ambulance? Man, I don't envy your job at all. Must be really stressful. I've always admired guys who can do something like that. I don't know how you sleep at night." And okay, yeah, maybe he's laying it on a bit thick, but this guy looks like just the type to appreciate that.
"Nothing like a warm body to make it all go away, but normally it's just me, some jazz and a cosmo." He steps toward Noah. "What about you? What are you doing out here? All alone, on a night like tonight. Don't you have someone at home? A pretty thing waiting with dinner on the table?"
"Nah, not me. I'm doing my part for the world right now. Trying to help de-stress those who need to concentrate." His voice is slow, but his point is obvious.
The tip of the cigarette glows bright. "How much?"
It's all business. "Depends on what you want."
"Drivers don't make enough for a room. And anyway, I gotta get back soon. This is only my fifteen. Shifts not over yet."
Noah slinks them both further into the alley. "And there's only about seven minutes left of that fifteen. So again, I'll say, what do you want?"
"Want that smart mouth of yours to suck me dry. Got a hundred bucks. That gonna cut it?" The guy drops the cigarette butt, rubs it out under his foot.
"First time discount. It'll only cost you $75." Noah is on his knees in a minute. He pulls a packet of lube and a rubber. "Hey. My fingers are cold, you want to warm them or suit yourself up?"
Noah holds up his fingers. They're a little chapped from the chill, but he'll take care of them later and actually get some gloves. The client opens his mouth, snakes a tongue around the nails, the pads, swallows three fingers like he's a professional sword swallower. Noah moans, like he's supposed to. "So hot. Thanks."
The guy's cock throbs against the zipper. Noah doesn't waste time on a show. The guy is standing, leaning over him, one hand braces him on the wall, and the other on Noah's head. "Come on. Come on." Need and urgency threaded through his hoarse whisper. Noah lubes him quickly, slips the condom over and opens his mouth. He maps out the vein in the underside of the guy's cock with his piercing, knows it's effective when the guy swears.
Noah slides off once the guy is whimpering, sloppy and noisy. "That all you got? All that control over the ambulance? All that stress? And you're gonna make me do all the work? Man, do it. Fuck my mouth. Let it out." He lathes his tongue across the uncut head and into the slit. Noah leans back, eases his jaw, his throat and waits.
The guy gets the hint. He holds onto Noah's head with both hands. Almost as good as earmuffs, Noah thinks, before he's allowing himself to be moved. Who needs a chiropractor when someone can crack your neck like that? He makes the appropriate noises, laps where the guy seems to like it, and it's under five minutes before the tip of the condom is filling with warm come and his client is shouting some random name. Noah mouths gently at the cherry latex he prefers for blow jobs, letting the lube and come work the aftershocks out.
His client waits a moment, tries to breathe. "You in this part of Oakdale often?"
Noah nods as he stands. "The alley looked like it needed company. And the coffee across the street doesn't suck as much as it could." He carefully peels off the rubber, careful to not get any of the fluids on him. He takes a wipe out of his pocket, and cleans the guy off. "If you're gonna be here again, around this time, you should maybe look me up again. The name's Jake." Noah stuffs all his trash in one of the plastic sandwich bags he carries. "Good luck with the rest of your shift."
The guy runs his thumb over Noah's jaw. "Not sure what you see in Oakdale, Jake, but if you're here, I'll be back. Count on it." He reaches for his wallet. "Here. Take the hundred. You can offer me that discount some other time. Go get that coffee."
"Will do." Noah pockets the money, watches while the guy leaves the alley. He calculates. If he can stick to just giving head, things should be fine. He needs to get something to keep his knees warmer. Bring some cardboard or a blanket back here. Cardboard would be more subtle. He runs his tongue over his teeth. The saccharine sweet of fake cherry is there, but even after that, some other flavor rides along, just a hint really. Maybe the coffee will burn his taste buds right off and everything will go back to normal?
*****
"I knew I'd find you here."
Noah spits coffee on the sidewalk.
"Well, okay, that's not quite true. I knew you needed to be near one of the five convenience stores. They all serve shitty coffee by definition, so that didn't really help, you know, to narrow things down." Luke leans into the wall, crosses his arms, stares at the neon lit OPEN sign across the street. "It's fucking freezing out here, Noah. What are you doing?"
Noah sips at his drink, allows his fingers to clutch the warmth through the thick paper. They heat is too much, but the punishing burn is somehow comforting. "What do you think I'm doing? And hey, if you could just leave, there's some man over there who keeps checking me out. Just because you're in school, doesn't mean the rest of us don't have to work."
"How do you know I'm not here for that?" Luke's voice is a quiet challenge.
"You're not."
"You don't know that."
Noah moves to stand in front of Luke, forcing their eyes to meet. "Yeah, kid. I do. I do know that because I was there earlier in the week. I was there when you watched me, when you touched me, when you had your tongue in my ass. I was there when I said your name. And I -" He gulps at his coffee. "Look. You're just not. You're a good guy, and that one lie about being single aside, you don't want to be with me. It was good, better than good even, but I'm not gonna come between you and your boyfriend."
Luke pauses in the process of peeling off his gloves. "My boyfriend? What on earth?" He frowns. "I came out here looking for you, Noah. I wanted to, I don't know, thank you for returning my tape recorder. And -"
"And?" Noah drags out the word, slow, teasing. He shouldn't. He knows it, but he
"And, what the fuck, Noah? What was that? You? Me? Your tongue? My neck?" He waves his hands between them. "At Java?" He throws his gloves at Noah. "Put these on. Jesus, you're making me cold. And fucking answer me. Or is this not ringing a bell?"
Noah catches the gloves with one hand, nearly spills his coffee with the other. He hands Luke the cup and wiggles his fingers into the warm wool. His stomach hurts. "Was gonna get some after ..." He looks at Luke, stares him straight in the eyes and hopes he gets it this time. He clears his throat. "I was going to go buy gloves after the next shift at the hospital starts, because tricks are more likely to happen at shift change. And I know that, and I'm waiting, because I'm a whore, Luke. That's what I do." Noah throws the cup at the brick wall far enough away not to splash either of them, listens to the wet splash and the empty echo of the plastic lid as it rolls to the ground. "I'm sorry about what I did at Java. It wasn't fair. Not to you, and not to me. I just, I, I wanted something different. And I'm so fucking mad at you. You're like Lucifer, all lies and forked tongue behind the most beautiful face in the world."
Noah crowds Luke against the wall. He doesn't know how or why, just knows it's really important that he understand, and stepping into Luke's space seems like the best way. "You sat down at my table where I was minding my own business. You struck up conversation like I was just some guy you wanted to get to know. You did all of that, and then slipped in that little bit of information about how you knew who I was, what I did, and could you interview me, please. I thought, I don't even know what I thought, but it sure as hell wasn't that." He takes off the gloves, cannot keep them, cannot wear them. His eyes sting with angry tears. Noah balls up the wool and carefully slips one glove into each of Luke's jacket's side front pockets. He leaves his fingers fisted in the material. "So if I fucked up your perfect chance at the perfect life with your perfect new hipster boyfriend, then I don't really care right now. I'm going to be at Java's every morning because Roth makes the best damn coffee, and then I'm going to be here in my new damn alley. And when my regulars schedule, I'll be at my damn apartment, in the damn bed where you fucked me just like them. Only maybe worse. Because you weren't supposed to be just like them." Noah's breath is hot and each word comes out in its own visible puff. His chest presses up against Luke's. Their legs intertwine. He's so angry he can't see straight and so he waits. He inhales and exhales loudly and leaves his body meshed with Luke, makes Luke deal with everything he should have and some old baggage of Noah's he should never have to see.
*****
Luke shudders at Noah's deliberate steps. He hears the words but they don't quite compute. And then Noah is there, right up against him, and it's every spark that was there for months but more because Luke knows. Luke knows about piercings and tattoos and loneliness so close to the surface that it just broke across him like the waves of a tsunami. He knows all of that, and he knows what Noah does, but he doesn't care. Not with this much passion daring him, taunting him to his face.
He fists Noah's hoodie and yanks him forward. Their teeth clank and he laps at Noah's piercing when he opens his mouth on a gasp. Part of him wants soft, wants romance, but the smarter part knows that's not going to happen right now. Luke circles the sharpness of Noah's teeth, the rough warmth of his tongue and that shaft of metal that makes him all the more hard. He drags his mouth back, wet with saliva and need, drags Noah's lower lip between his teeth to bite it before sweeping his way back into Noah's mouth. Noah is coffee and anger with a hint of something fruity and chemical. The taste jolts a scent-memory and Luke realizes that he is not the only man to have been with Noah in this alley tonight.
He pushes Noah away, licks at his own lips. "Fuck."
"That pretty much sums it up." Noah crouches down, wraps his arms around his knees while balancing on his feet.
"No, I mean, I can taste them, him, someone. You taste like latex." Luke licks his lips again. "Strawberry maybe and latex? You were blowing someone before I got here."
"Cherry. It was cherry. And yes, Kid, that's my job." Noah stares at Luke's feet. They're small for the rest of him. Apparently the assumption about foot size being proportional is a myth, because the rest of Luke was just not like that.
Luke kneels down next to Noah, covers his hands. "Stop. I thought we were past 'kid' when I offered to bankroll your rent? I get it. Okay. I get what you do. I know what your job is. But I don't think that's you, and I'm sorry, okay, I'm sorry if I made you feel like that's what you are." He unloops his scarf, wraps it around Noah's neck, flops the ends around him. "It's freezing out, and you at least made some money tonight. Go home for now Noah, please. Go home, and we can both think about this. About what we want. Can you," he swallows. He has no right to ask for this. "Can you do that for me?"
Noah holds the scarf to his nose, sniffs at it. "No. I can't. I'm sorry. I need the money. But, if it's true. If you mean it, or think you do, then I'll meet you for coffee in the morning, on Friday."
Luke's stomach sinks. He wants to argue. He wants to take Noah home, feed him chicken soup and read him children's books. But he can't. "Yeah, okay. Friday morning. Is nine good? I've got chores to do in the morning."
"Nine is great." Noah stands up. "Go away now. Don't look back. Okay? Because I'm still gonna be here once you turn the corner."
"Yeah," Luke frowns. "I get it." He yanks his scarf, wrapped around Noah, and tongues his way into his mouth one last time. "Friday?"
"You're not getting this scarf back," Noah whispers to Luke's departing back
Luke's laugh echoes behind him. "Who said I want to? It looks better on you."
And still more
Author: nouveau_monday
Pairing: Noah/Luke (Noah/OMC <-- Noah's a rentboy. These things will happen.)
Rating: NC-17 for content
Word Count: 3.5kish
Summary: A start
Spoilers: This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.
Disclaimer: As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P&G and possibly others, but definitely not me. That is the real travesty of all of this.
Notes: Thank you so much to mightyten for being a great beta, especially when I whine all the time. And she's ridiculously busy. And she still did this. Because she rocks.
"What was that about?"
Luke shakes his head. His neck burns where Noah had licked it. Fucking licked him. "Umm, that was, uhh, something." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Just some guy. I must have left," he looks down at the tape recorder bound tightly in his fingers. "Must have left this with him. No biggie."
Reg fixes Luke with one of his yeah-whatever stares. "Uh huh. Mr. Journalism Major. Mr. I Need A Kick Ass Project To Get That WOAK Internship. You just left your tape recorder there. I swear, you must take that thing to bed with you."
"Hey!" Luke punches Reg's shoulder even while his face flushes. He'd only taken it to bed once, and that had been an accident. How much had he gotten? His dick was half hard. He wanted to be in his room, somewhere, anywhere really, where he could listen to what was on the tape. "Shut up."
"What? Seriously Luke, when was the last time you got laid? I know you still aren't pining over that douchebag ex of yours." Reg keeps his arm around Luke's waist. "Let's get you something to drink. You can tell me who that guy was, and no bullshit this time."
"He's just some guy. I told you. Lay off it, Reg." They make their way to the counter. "Hey Roth. Can I have -"
"Some weird hazelnut-macadamia-caramel-chocolate thing with whipped creams and sprinkles?" Roth grins and winks. "Saw the floor show at the door and thought you might need this." He passes it over, whipped cream elaborately decorated with rainbow sprinkles. "You'll like it, blasphemer of all things coffee." His smile falters. "Hi Reg. Large coffee, seven and seven right?"
"You're an ass, Roth." Luke dips his finger into the top of his drink and threatens to smear it on his friend's nose. "But you know I love you anyway."
"Speaking of ..." Roth cocks his head.
Luke hurries to interrupt. "Not now. Later. We'll find time later." Without Reg. Without anyone. Because Roth will understand. I may never wash my neck again. "Reg and I need to plan our world domination, starting with WOAK. If you get a break, come join?"
"Sure thing." He hands off a tall ceramic mug to Reg. "That'll be two fifty."
Reg frowns, but drops money on the counter. "Whatever man. Keep the change." Luke barely has time to make a what-the-fuck face at Roth before he's being dragged over to a table. "What's his damage? Someone piss in his cereal this morning?"
"Don't worry about it. He and I just need to talk. It's nothing. Come on, focus Reg. Ignore Roth. I'm serious about WOAK world domination. I want this so bad."
"Sure helps when your mom owned part of it, and you're fucking related to the anchors." Reg slurps at his coffee, makes a face. "Jesus, does Roth burn this twice before pouring it? Seriously, what the fuck? This is disgusting." He shudders. "It's like licking the bottom of a toaster."
"And you would know this how, precisely?" Luke wonders.
"Shut up and hand over the girly shit." Reg swipes Luke's cup, sucks deep from the straw. "That almost takes the edge off." He glares at the counter where Roth watches them. "Swear to god, Luke, he does this shit on purpose."
"Of course he does, Baby." Luke pats Reg's hand. "The big mean old Roth just wants to serve you bitter coffee." The bitch of it is, Reg doesn't know how right he is. Luke tries not to laugh, bites his cheeks, thinks of starving puppies. It works a little. He knows they never got along. He doesn't pry, doesn't want to know the dirty secret that causes such a rift between those two. "Do you want me to get you a new cup. Would that help?"
Reg pouts. "Would you?"
"Yes." He holds out his hand. "As long as you promise to take this seriously. I want the internship. Now how are we going to get it?"
*****
Noah jams his hands in his pockets. "Shit, shit, shit." It's been three hours since he left Java and still. He leans against the brick of his new wall. He should get coffee, he knows that. Something to warm him up would be good. But nothing, nothing at all, can offset the flavor of salt and sweet skin tingling on his goddamned tongue. He scuffs his heel and hopes that the test run of his new spot will be good.
"Hey, you got a light?"
He's shorter than Noah. A little too slick, too expensive. Rent! Noah flips his Zippo from his back pocket. "I do indeed." He peels himself from the wall slowly, lets the guy get a good long look. He lets his eyes rake over dark hair, stocky muscles, the EMT jacket. "Didn't anyone ever tell you smoking was bad for you?" He laughs from low in his throat. "Surely in your profession ..." Noah runs his tongue over his upper lip, while he flicks the lighter between his fingers and pops it open. "Come out of the wind a minute, it'll make it easier."
The guy smiles. "Bet it will. The wind's a bitch tonight. Made driving the truck awful." He holds the cigarette between his teeth and leans into the flame between Noah's cupped hands.
Watching the first deep breath has Noah aching for a puff, and the exhale? The cloying sweet burn of clove cigarettes fills his nostrils and has him practically drooling. He doesn't even bother to hide his sigh. "You drive the ambulance? Man, I don't envy your job at all. Must be really stressful. I've always admired guys who can do something like that. I don't know how you sleep at night." And okay, yeah, maybe he's laying it on a bit thick, but this guy looks like just the type to appreciate that.
"Nothing like a warm body to make it all go away, but normally it's just me, some jazz and a cosmo." He steps toward Noah. "What about you? What are you doing out here? All alone, on a night like tonight. Don't you have someone at home? A pretty thing waiting with dinner on the table?"
"Nah, not me. I'm doing my part for the world right now. Trying to help de-stress those who need to concentrate." His voice is slow, but his point is obvious.
The tip of the cigarette glows bright. "How much?"
It's all business. "Depends on what you want."
"Drivers don't make enough for a room. And anyway, I gotta get back soon. This is only my fifteen. Shifts not over yet."
Noah slinks them both further into the alley. "And there's only about seven minutes left of that fifteen. So again, I'll say, what do you want?"
"Want that smart mouth of yours to suck me dry. Got a hundred bucks. That gonna cut it?" The guy drops the cigarette butt, rubs it out under his foot.
"First time discount. It'll only cost you $75." Noah is on his knees in a minute. He pulls a packet of lube and a rubber. "Hey. My fingers are cold, you want to warm them or suit yourself up?"
Noah holds up his fingers. They're a little chapped from the chill, but he'll take care of them later and actually get some gloves. The client opens his mouth, snakes a tongue around the nails, the pads, swallows three fingers like he's a professional sword swallower. Noah moans, like he's supposed to. "So hot. Thanks."
The guy's cock throbs against the zipper. Noah doesn't waste time on a show. The guy is standing, leaning over him, one hand braces him on the wall, and the other on Noah's head. "Come on. Come on." Need and urgency threaded through his hoarse whisper. Noah lubes him quickly, slips the condom over and opens his mouth. He maps out the vein in the underside of the guy's cock with his piercing, knows it's effective when the guy swears.
Noah slides off once the guy is whimpering, sloppy and noisy. "That all you got? All that control over the ambulance? All that stress? And you're gonna make me do all the work? Man, do it. Fuck my mouth. Let it out." He lathes his tongue across the uncut head and into the slit. Noah leans back, eases his jaw, his throat and waits.
The guy gets the hint. He holds onto Noah's head with both hands. Almost as good as earmuffs, Noah thinks, before he's allowing himself to be moved. Who needs a chiropractor when someone can crack your neck like that? He makes the appropriate noises, laps where the guy seems to like it, and it's under five minutes before the tip of the condom is filling with warm come and his client is shouting some random name. Noah mouths gently at the cherry latex he prefers for blow jobs, letting the lube and come work the aftershocks out.
His client waits a moment, tries to breathe. "You in this part of Oakdale often?"
Noah nods as he stands. "The alley looked like it needed company. And the coffee across the street doesn't suck as much as it could." He carefully peels off the rubber, careful to not get any of the fluids on him. He takes a wipe out of his pocket, and cleans the guy off. "If you're gonna be here again, around this time, you should maybe look me up again. The name's Jake." Noah stuffs all his trash in one of the plastic sandwich bags he carries. "Good luck with the rest of your shift."
The guy runs his thumb over Noah's jaw. "Not sure what you see in Oakdale, Jake, but if you're here, I'll be back. Count on it." He reaches for his wallet. "Here. Take the hundred. You can offer me that discount some other time. Go get that coffee."
"Will do." Noah pockets the money, watches while the guy leaves the alley. He calculates. If he can stick to just giving head, things should be fine. He needs to get something to keep his knees warmer. Bring some cardboard or a blanket back here. Cardboard would be more subtle. He runs his tongue over his teeth. The saccharine sweet of fake cherry is there, but even after that, some other flavor rides along, just a hint really. Maybe the coffee will burn his taste buds right off and everything will go back to normal?
*****
"I knew I'd find you here."
Noah spits coffee on the sidewalk.
"Well, okay, that's not quite true. I knew you needed to be near one of the five convenience stores. They all serve shitty coffee by definition, so that didn't really help, you know, to narrow things down." Luke leans into the wall, crosses his arms, stares at the neon lit OPEN sign across the street. "It's fucking freezing out here, Noah. What are you doing?"
Noah sips at his drink, allows his fingers to clutch the warmth through the thick paper. They heat is too much, but the punishing burn is somehow comforting. "What do you think I'm doing? And hey, if you could just leave, there's some man over there who keeps checking me out. Just because you're in school, doesn't mean the rest of us don't have to work."
"How do you know I'm not here for that?" Luke's voice is a quiet challenge.
"You're not."
"You don't know that."
Noah moves to stand in front of Luke, forcing their eyes to meet. "Yeah, kid. I do. I do know that because I was there earlier in the week. I was there when you watched me, when you touched me, when you had your tongue in my ass. I was there when I said your name. And I -" He gulps at his coffee. "Look. You're just not. You're a good guy, and that one lie about being single aside, you don't want to be with me. It was good, better than good even, but I'm not gonna come between you and your boyfriend."
Luke pauses in the process of peeling off his gloves. "My boyfriend? What on earth?" He frowns. "I came out here looking for you, Noah. I wanted to, I don't know, thank you for returning my tape recorder. And -"
"And?" Noah drags out the word, slow, teasing. He shouldn't. He knows it, but he
"And, what the fuck, Noah? What was that? You? Me? Your tongue? My neck?" He waves his hands between them. "At Java?" He throws his gloves at Noah. "Put these on. Jesus, you're making me cold. And fucking answer me. Or is this not ringing a bell?"
Noah catches the gloves with one hand, nearly spills his coffee with the other. He hands Luke the cup and wiggles his fingers into the warm wool. His stomach hurts. "Was gonna get some after ..." He looks at Luke, stares him straight in the eyes and hopes he gets it this time. He clears his throat. "I was going to go buy gloves after the next shift at the hospital starts, because tricks are more likely to happen at shift change. And I know that, and I'm waiting, because I'm a whore, Luke. That's what I do." Noah throws the cup at the brick wall far enough away not to splash either of them, listens to the wet splash and the empty echo of the plastic lid as it rolls to the ground. "I'm sorry about what I did at Java. It wasn't fair. Not to you, and not to me. I just, I, I wanted something different. And I'm so fucking mad at you. You're like Lucifer, all lies and forked tongue behind the most beautiful face in the world."
Noah crowds Luke against the wall. He doesn't know how or why, just knows it's really important that he understand, and stepping into Luke's space seems like the best way. "You sat down at my table where I was minding my own business. You struck up conversation like I was just some guy you wanted to get to know. You did all of that, and then slipped in that little bit of information about how you knew who I was, what I did, and could you interview me, please. I thought, I don't even know what I thought, but it sure as hell wasn't that." He takes off the gloves, cannot keep them, cannot wear them. His eyes sting with angry tears. Noah balls up the wool and carefully slips one glove into each of Luke's jacket's side front pockets. He leaves his fingers fisted in the material. "So if I fucked up your perfect chance at the perfect life with your perfect new hipster boyfriend, then I don't really care right now. I'm going to be at Java's every morning because Roth makes the best damn coffee, and then I'm going to be here in my new damn alley. And when my regulars schedule, I'll be at my damn apartment, in the damn bed where you fucked me just like them. Only maybe worse. Because you weren't supposed to be just like them." Noah's breath is hot and each word comes out in its own visible puff. His chest presses up against Luke's. Their legs intertwine. He's so angry he can't see straight and so he waits. He inhales and exhales loudly and leaves his body meshed with Luke, makes Luke deal with everything he should have and some old baggage of Noah's he should never have to see.
*****
Luke shudders at Noah's deliberate steps. He hears the words but they don't quite compute. And then Noah is there, right up against him, and it's every spark that was there for months but more because Luke knows. Luke knows about piercings and tattoos and loneliness so close to the surface that it just broke across him like the waves of a tsunami. He knows all of that, and he knows what Noah does, but he doesn't care. Not with this much passion daring him, taunting him to his face.
He fists Noah's hoodie and yanks him forward. Their teeth clank and he laps at Noah's piercing when he opens his mouth on a gasp. Part of him wants soft, wants romance, but the smarter part knows that's not going to happen right now. Luke circles the sharpness of Noah's teeth, the rough warmth of his tongue and that shaft of metal that makes him all the more hard. He drags his mouth back, wet with saliva and need, drags Noah's lower lip between his teeth to bite it before sweeping his way back into Noah's mouth. Noah is coffee and anger with a hint of something fruity and chemical. The taste jolts a scent-memory and Luke realizes that he is not the only man to have been with Noah in this alley tonight.
He pushes Noah away, licks at his own lips. "Fuck."
"That pretty much sums it up." Noah crouches down, wraps his arms around his knees while balancing on his feet.
"No, I mean, I can taste them, him, someone. You taste like latex." Luke licks his lips again. "Strawberry maybe and latex? You were blowing someone before I got here."
"Cherry. It was cherry. And yes, Kid, that's my job." Noah stares at Luke's feet. They're small for the rest of him. Apparently the assumption about foot size being proportional is a myth, because the rest of Luke was just not like that.
Luke kneels down next to Noah, covers his hands. "Stop. I thought we were past 'kid' when I offered to bankroll your rent? I get it. Okay. I get what you do. I know what your job is. But I don't think that's you, and I'm sorry, okay, I'm sorry if I made you feel like that's what you are." He unloops his scarf, wraps it around Noah's neck, flops the ends around him. "It's freezing out, and you at least made some money tonight. Go home for now Noah, please. Go home, and we can both think about this. About what we want. Can you," he swallows. He has no right to ask for this. "Can you do that for me?"
Noah holds the scarf to his nose, sniffs at it. "No. I can't. I'm sorry. I need the money. But, if it's true. If you mean it, or think you do, then I'll meet you for coffee in the morning, on Friday."
Luke's stomach sinks. He wants to argue. He wants to take Noah home, feed him chicken soup and read him children's books. But he can't. "Yeah, okay. Friday morning. Is nine good? I've got chores to do in the morning."
"Nine is great." Noah stands up. "Go away now. Don't look back. Okay? Because I'm still gonna be here once you turn the corner."
"Yeah," Luke frowns. "I get it." He yanks his scarf, wrapped around Noah, and tongues his way into his mouth one last time. "Friday?"
"You're not getting this scarf back," Noah whispers to Luke's departing back
Luke's laugh echoes behind him. "Who said I want to? It looks better on you."
And still more