The thump-thump-thump of the music resonates in Noah’s bones, starting at the base of his skull and traveling from there—up into his head, down through his legs. He lets it take over, lets it focus his mind until all he can think of and feel is the pressure of the bass and the swell of everyone around them. And they’re not even on the dance floor, yet.
The flickering lights, the smell of spilled beer, everything’s in such a precarious balance. But he’s regained some control. He avoids looking across their little booth and tries not to think about the feel of Luke’s dick in his hands.
The whole week at the farm house has been an intense torture spinning him further out of control. Their stolen moments, frantic grabs between walks to the shower or full-on body rubs while tucked into the shadows of the hall. Three terrifying, early morning rendezvous on the living room couch, when they grabbed and took and sucked (just a little) before jumping apart like children about to be caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar.
And things have only gotten worse since.
Now they’re surrounded by two hundred people, the music is louder, and the shadows are darker, and when he begged Luke to sneak into the washroom twenty minutes ago for a moment of privacy, there was a guy in the stall next to them getting sucked off. The girl on her knees (or maybe a guy, the possibility exists that they’re not the only gay couple in Oakdale) was enjoying it immensely, while the guy on the receiving end grabbed the top of the stall, cursing for more. Noah could only stand and stare at the three-inch spiked heels poking into their stall and the back-and-forth rhythm they made as they slid across the floor. The sound of the guy hammering his dick into the person’s mouth, echoed in the bathroom and put anything he and Luke had come there to do, to shame by comparison.
They’d left empty-handed a few minutes later, and Noah can still feel the embarrassment mixed with desire tingeing his face.
Something tickles him on the cheek. Luke asks, “Why are you ignoring me?”
Flicking his eyes up, Noah risks a glance at Luke, sees the pouty lips that just this morning wrapped themselves around his dick, and quickly looks away again. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” Luke says, punctuating his statement by unfurling a party favor into Noah’s ear.
Noah swats him away, but Luke blows into the plastic horn again.
“You want to know where you can stick that?” Noah says without thinking, and for a second, Luke just looks at him before a smile starts to curl his lips, even though they’re still wrapped around the cheap blow-out.
Luke carefully blows air into the tube, uncurling the paper slowly so that Noah gets to see it grow longer and bigger, and then he’s right back where he started this morning. Frustrated and horny and so fucking tired of not being able to do anything because they’re surrounded by people.
Noah curls his hands into fists, nails cutting into skin. “You’re killing me.”
“Why, Noah,” Luke drawls, finally taking the damn party favor out of his mouth, and Noah can see where it’s still wet from his tongue. “Is there something you’d like me to help you with?”
A waitress comes by, balancing a tray of drinks and cash, and gruffly asks if they want anything. Luke holds up two fingers and whispers something in her ear, and then she’s off handing out drinks at the next table.
“What’d you order?” Noah asks. The idea of a cold beer he can cradle against his face has sudden appeal.
Luke cocks his head to the side. “Two Orgasms. You look like you could use one.”
Noah’s stomach plunges about ten feet. The familiar constriction of fear and embarrassment wraps itself around his chest. “You didn’t.”
Luke shrugs and smiles. “What’s the big deal?”
“It’s corny and crass, and what the hell business is it of hers?”
Luke looks at him, and Noah feels the heat go up another ten degrees. “It’s just a drink.”
“Why don’t we get out of here?” Noah whispers desperately. “Let’s just find somewhere quiet. I’ll drive us to Jameson Gardens. No one else will be there. I just want to finish what we started this morning.”
The waitress arrives with their shooters, and Luke hands her some cash, waving her away when she starts to dig for change. Luke slides a drink over to Noah and takes the other one himself. Lifting the glass and gesturing for Noah to do the same, Luke says, “I have a better idea.”
The weight of disappointment makes Noah hesitate. He doesn’t want the sweet drink. He just wants to kiss, lick and suck (but mostly fuck) every inch of Luke’s body, and he thought Luke wanted it too. Instead, Luke lifts his glass a little closer, and just as Noah’s about to reach for his, he feels a soft caress along the inside of his thigh.
He glances over at Luke, who clinks his glass against Noah’s on the table and downs the shot in one gulp. When Luke puts it down, he gives Noah an evil smile, and brings his foot up to Noah’s crotch.
“What are you doing?” Noah says, quickly reaching down to stop Luke’s foot from rubbing against his dick.
“What do you think? Haven’t you ever played footsies, Mayer?”
Restraining Luke’s foot with one hand, Noah grabs his drink with the other and downs it. “Look, why don’t we go hang out in my truck? We’ll go somewhere private…”
Luke takes his foot back, squirms around like he’s trying to put his shoe back on, and then grabs Noah’s arm, dragging him up. Without giving Noah a chance to protest, Luke pulls him across the dance floor, through couples and groups thrusting their bodies to the music. Luke’s single-minded look makes Noah’s stomach drop.
Luke keeps going until they find themselves in the corner of the room, dark with shadows, crammed between a blaring speaker and wires running up from the DJ booth. They’re half-hidden behind a screen meant to hide it all away. Luke pushes him against the wall and presses into him.
Their kiss is hot and wet and Noah can feel everything: Luke’s dick, hard against his hips, his legs working their way between his, Luke’s arms, wrapping themselves around Noah’s waist, closer and hotter than ever. Luke’s all hard angles and tense muscles—everything that Noah wants to soak in and memorize because it feels like nothing else ever has.
“I don’t want to go park somewhere on New Year’s Eve,” Luke whispers into his ear, grinding against Noah, shifting until his erections finally lines up with Noah’s dick. “I don’t want soft and gentle. I don’t want flowers, I don’t want easy rock on the radio, and I don’t want snowflakes falling on the windshield. I want you, Noah. Here. Now. Ringing in the New Year with everyone else who is grinding against each other, making out and fucking on the dance floor.”
Noah looks past Luke. If he angles his face, he can see the crowd through a part in the screen. It’s crazy to think that people are dancing less than ten feet away. Noah can see them in the flickering light of the strobe. Everyone seems absorbed in their own party. A face happens to glance in their direction, but slides away seconds later, never registering them at all. The objection still forms on his tongue. “Someone could see us...”
“I know this is hard for you,” Luke says with a wicked grin and unbuttons Noah’s pants. Before he can protest, Luke’s hands are slipping in between his stomach and boxers, and grabbing Noah’s dick. “But you need to stop worrying about what other people think.”
Luke’s hand, fondling and caressing, slowly drives him out of his mind; it’s breaking him apart, making him beg for more until there’s a rift inside him, splitting him in two. He wants Luke to continue, he finally wants to take what Luke’s offering and damn everyone else to hell if they think he shouldn’t, and the other part of him wants to hide in shame at the thought of being seen.
“Shhh,” Luke whispers, caressing Noah’s face with his other hand, and it’s only then that Noah realizes he must have spoke his thoughts out loud. “No one here cares. This isn’t my grandmother’s house; this isn’t your dorm—”
“What about Carly?”
“She’s got her hands full and my mom left a while ago. We’re nothing here to anyone, we can just be ourselves.”
Noah’s stomach tightens as he realizes he’s almost run out of arguments. “But why should anyone else get to see what I haven’t even seen myself?”
Luke drags his lips across Noah’s jaw line and down his neck. “Because you don’t want to see it. You’re scared to let us just be who we are. You’re hanging on to this medieval notion of how your life should be—white picket fence, one-point-two kids, missionary position twice a week—and trying to reconcile it with us. It’s not going to work.”
“There’s nothing wrong with missionary position twice a week. It’s more than we’re currently getting.”
Luke gives him a lopsided smile. “This morning you jumped away because a floorboard creaked.”
“It might have been someone—”
“There are always creaks and groans in the house. It’s old. That’s my point. You keep waiting for this perfect time that’s never going to happen. I want you, Noah. I’m going insane because I want you so much. Take a risk for me—for us.”
As Noah weighs Luke’s words, Luke partially undoes his own pants, so when he moves back in, their cocks are rubbing right against each other. Noah tries to look—tries to see what that image looks like, but the shadows are too dark. Luke’s jacket tickles his thighs, further hiding what they’re doing.
Pressure rises, and Noah’s head hits the wall as he grabs Luke’s arms for support. He only has touch and imagination, but that’s more than enough. Luke grinds and thrusts against him and the intimacy makes Noah shake.
“Oh, God, you feel amazing,” Luke moans. “I want to watch your face as you come. I want to taste you and lick you.”
“I want to fuck you.” Noah lets the words tumble out of his mouth as he lets go of his last vestiges of control. Maybe Luke’s right. Right now is what’s real—and it belongs only to them. Raw lust and fire flood his veins making him reach for Luke’s ass.
“I want to do that too,” Luke whimpers. “But here?”
“You’re starting to sound like me,” Noah says with a shaky laugh.
Noah’s hands slip under Luke’s pants so he can touch his ass again and bring him closer. The music is pounding, the darkness intoxicating, and the incredible heat and hardness of Luke rubbing against him makes him push harder against Luke, desperate to increase the friction. Luke brings his hand between them, closing around both their dicks, and starts jerking them off together.
“Luke…” Noah says without knowing what he’s going to say. He wants to be even closer, he wants to crawl inside Luke’s skin, he wants to tell Luke to stop so he can try sucking him instead, he wants to beg Luke to keep going until they come shaking in their pants. Noah settles for grabbing Luke’s hair and bringing Luke’s mouth back to his own, so he can not breathe and not think and fuck Luke’s mouth with his tongue while Luke fucks their dicks with his hands.
The pressure starts mounting in his balls, moving towards his dick, and Noah knows it’s too late to stop now. A few more thrusts and Luke throws his head back with a cry—the look on his face sends Noah headlong into the abyss until he’s falling and flying, until they’re both shuddering and panting and holding onto each other for dear life, because there’s nothing else to hold on to.
When Noah’s body stops shaking, his world coalesces into the space immediately around them. Nothing else exists. They stand there panting, wordless, until Noah kisses him again, his heartbeat still pounding in his ears.
Eventually, the warm liquid starts to pool on Noah’s stomach and dick, and he debates the idea of sitting down. He’s sure the floor is disgusting, but his blood doesn’t seem to want to come up to his head so it seems like a good idea for his body to go down to it.
He slides down the wall, dragging Luke with him until they’re sitting next to each other on the floor, still breathless and weak. It suddenly occurs to him that he’s not sure if the come is his or Luke’s, and the idea of them mingling like that, of being that intertwined, makes Noah shudder and grab Luke’s arm more tightly.
“We made a mess,” Luke says after a few minutes. Reaching into his pockets, he pulls out a handful of napkins. Together they manage to clean up a little.
After they’ve rearranged their clothes, they continue sitting on the floor, in a tangle of speaker wires and balloons. Luke turns his head into Noah’s neck, nuzzling his skin with kisses. “I love you.”
The way Luke says it, sounds like he’s not expecting a response.
Noah breathes and lets his head loll to the side. From where they’re sitting, he can see parts of the crowded dance floor, and no one seems to have noticed them. The music is still blaring, the clock on the wall still counting down to New Year. Everyone’s still dancing and drinking. Some are groping and feeling, others smoking. For once in his life, there are no one’s expectations to live up to except his own.
“I love you, too,” Noah whispers, feeling truly free for the first time. Just as Luke lifts his head, Noah gives him a quick kiss to stop him from saying anything. The last thing Noah wants to do is continue to make a big deal out of everything, and he hopes Luke understands.
Luke gives him a smile, and intertwines their fingers without saying a word.
An upbeat song starts playing over the speakers, and Noah gets an idea. He gives Luke a quick kiss, stands up, and pulls Luke to his feet.
“What are you doing?”
Noah leads Luke back towards the dance floor. “There are still fifteen minutes left this year, and I want to spend them with you. Ringing in the New Year with everyone else who is grinding against each other, making out and fucking on the dance floor. Is that all right with you?”
Luke gives him a silly grin and grabs his hand a little more tightly. “But everyone will see us.”
Noah tugs him closer. “Then let them look. This is one perfect moment I’m going to enjoy with you that no one else can take away. Come on.”