Page 56 of Shrapnel

“You’ve already said Legos don’t mean anything to you. Do we know the chemical makeup of plastic Legos? Maybe the molds? Have you called the manufac--”

“ELIJAH!”

He flinched, looking over the pile of papers in his hands at Noah. He was still slouched in his chair, hair a mess around his face and eyelids heavy.

“I can’t do anymore,” he admitted softly, eyes smoldering. “I need a distraction.”

Blinking, Elijah set his paperwork down and rubbed the back of his neck, massaging the crick out of it from hunching. “I could go get you something to eat? It’s late but I think that diner is open.”

Noah huffed, leaning back and spreading his legs. He leveled a look at Elijah as he licked his pouty lips.

“I need adistraction,Elijah.”

All thoughts of mutilated bodies and his high school science tutor shouting the periodic table of elements at him disappeared. White Sand Mesa disappeared.

Everything except the way Noah said his name. The breath that he used to form the syllables cleared the space between them and Elijah was there, hands sliding into Noah’s lovely locks and accepting his molten kisses. His look had been heavy, but his hands were light, fingers gripping Elijah tight and anchoring him into place.

Noah’s kisses were a thousand times more addictive than amphetamines and the high was stronger. Each kiss alternatively stole Elijah’s breath while nourishing his soul. When he felt his fingertips electric with desperation, the soft gasps of pleasure, and the intoxicating smell of Noah’s skin he knew there would never be enough poetry written to encompass the way he felt.

“I need you,” Noah panted, lips pressed to Elijah’s because he was unwilling to put space between them.

“I’m here, my ruin,” Elijah promised, sliding his hands under Noah’s thighs to lift him out of the chair. Noah clung to him, raining soft kitten kisses down on his neck while wantonly rubbing his erection against Elijah’s hips.

Dropping him onto the bed, Elijah blanketed Noah’s body with his own. Shielding him from the pressures that hid in the corners of White Sand Mesa. He would put his back to the monsters of Noah’s fears and kiss the worry from his lips.

Undressing Noah was like reading his favorite book. All the comforts from the words he already knew but with the added satisfaction of discovery, of finding something new to be excited about. From the depths of his clavicles to the soft pink of his nipples that darkened when he teased them. The fine hairs that tickled his chin when he dipped low, to the little whines on the tail end of hitched breaths.

Pulling his shirt off, he sidled up between Noah’s parted legs. One knee wrapped over his shoulder; he pressed bruising kisses to the soft flesh of his inner thigh. Every nip had Noah’s erect cock twitching, spilling pre onto his lithe stomach.

“How do you need me?” he asked, fingers teasing along his slender thighs.

Noah’s legs tightened around Elijah, hips bucking to find relief for his throbbing arousal.

Elijah grinned against his leg, taking his time to slowly unbuckle his wrist sheaths. His blades caught in the low light, sending light scattering across the room before dropping with a heavy thunk on the pile of clothes he’d discarded.

“Words, baby boy. Use your words,” he cooed, words purposefully slow. An antithesis to the rapid heaving of Noah’s chest and the desperate scrabbling of blunt nails against the sheets.

“Elijah,” he whined, his eyes fluttering closed as Elijah’s wandering hands drew closer to his weeping arousal.

He was always beautiful, but like this? When he didn’t feel the need to project, when he could succumb to whatever he was feeling…Elijah lived for these moments. When the color was high on his round cheeks, and his hair disheveled over eyes so dilated with lust he could barely see the glimmering bronze irises.

Thick lashes parted and teary eyes reflected his own disheveled face. “You. I need you.”

“You have me.” His fingers found their way around Noah’s cock, loosely fisting around the heated flesh. “I’m right here.”

A heel thudded into his shoulder as Noah wrenched himself up, hand slipping around his neck to bring Elijah into a bruising kiss. It was more teeth and spit than anything, a guttural snarl slipping from between their heated breaths.

“Your cock, Elijah,” he groaned, lips smearing against his. “I want your big, fat cock to make me scream.”

The famous Weaver control snapped, splintering into a thousand pieces as Elijah grabbed Noah, flipping him over on the bed until his face was pressed into the mattress and his ass up.

“That’s all you had to say.”

He took two handfuls of Noah’s firm ass, spreading him wide so he could get a good look at his puckered hole. It had been a while, and he felt his dick jerk against his pants at just the thought of penetrating him. Massaging the cheeks, he took the time to slide his thumbs around the wrinkled orifice, teasing the rim with barely there touches and just the warmth from his heavy breathing.

A bottle was tossed back at him, slippery from the last time they’d used it and put it away without cleaning.

“When was the last time you played with yourself?” he asked, his voice low and even in the way that drove Noah mad with frustration.