Page 133 of Hurt

“Why are you askingme?”Elijah asked as he shoved the laptop back at Jamie. He wiped his fingers on his pants as if the smut from the fic left a stain behind.

“Because you two are the only ones I know who like guys' asses. And he’s a virgin. Therefore, Obi-Wan, you are my only hope.”

Elijah and Noah both turned a bright pink and pointedly did not look at each other.

Clearing his throat, Noah walked around Elijah and glanced over Jamie’s shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have a stash of condoms in a Sherman Tank,” Noah pointed out.

“I’m not going to propagate unsafe sex in my fics. I’m not a degenerate.”

“You just wrote that Patton is using an oil-covered wrench to tease Rommel’s ass.”

“Yes, Noah. Safely,” Jamie said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Elijah looked like he wanted to die. He should have stayed in the bedroom.

His phone rang and saved him from their argument on whether or not the moans from two grown men having sex could be heard by the encroaching Axis soldiers outside a Sherman tank.

Jamie’s ears perked up, and he slammed his laptop shut. Setting the computer down on the table, he drifted over to Elijah. The pained look was gone from the eldest Weaver, replaced by an intense look that Noah couldn’t decipher. His honey-colored eyes flicked from Jamie to Noah and back again.

“Understood, sir. We will be there right away.” He hung up the phone and looked at Jamie. A silent understanding passed between them, and Jamie left the kitchen. All humor was sucked from the room.

“What’s going on?”

Elijah’s elegant eyebrows drew together and he looked at Noah for a long time. “It’s nothing.”

He winced as he said it. Even he knew it was bullshit.

“Don’t lie to me,” Noah snapped. “What is going on?”

“It’s none of your business,” Elijah said coolly, squaring his shoulders and taking a step away from Noah as if to physically put distance between them.

Noah hated that. Reaching out, he grabbed Elijah’s sleeve.

“This is Weaver business. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Are you forgetting who spent hours helping the Weaver injured after the massacre at the Estate?”

“Noah…”

“It’s my business as long as I’m helping, right? So, let me help.”

“This is different.”

“How?”

Elijah sighed and ground his teeth. “Noah, I’m asking you to let it go.”

“Why? Tell me why I can’t help.”

Elijah jerked his arm out of Noah’s grip. “Because you’re the White Sand Mesa heir!”

Noah felt like he had been slapped. There was real anger on Elijah’s face, but he couldn’t see that. All he could focus on were the eyes that had previously seen him. Now they were skating over him superficially, as if they saw his title and didn’t want to look any further.

He couldn’t speak. A ball of emotion lodged in his throat, and he struggled to breathe past it.

Elijah took one last look at him before looking away.