Surprising no one, Noah wasn't all that great at rest and recuperation.

The doctor ordered him to take it easy for at least a couple weeks while his bruises healed and his ribs mended, but it seemed like every time I turned around, he was doing something he shouldn't be. Cooking, cleaning, redecorating to name a few. Noah didn't like sitting still, I learned, and he also didn't like feeling like a burden. Despite how often I told him he wasn't one, he still kept on trying to help out around my apartment when I wasn't looking.

Truth be told, though, it was hard for me those first few days, too. I wasn't used to just relaxing, and it felt like I'd been ordered to do that in watching over Noah. I knew I was the last line of defense if Brett tried something, but I wanted to be one of the guys out in the field, doing something proactive to make sure that motherfucker never came near Noah again.

It didn't help that having him in my apartment, seeing him twenty-four-seven made it that much harder to ignore the thoughts of how we could be spending our time. Thoughts that definitely would've gone against the doctor's advice--and my own personal advice of not getting involved with Noah. But when I was sitting at the kitchen table with my tablet and coffee, it was so easy to fixate. Noah was adorable when he first woke up, hair messy, clothes wrinkled, a gravelly edge to his voice, and a sleepy smile on his face.

Usually he'd pad into the kitchen, get some water out of my fridge, and talk to me while he woke up. He'd stretch at least once, the hem of his shirt riding up and showing me his lightly defined abs, along with a patchy trail of brown hair that disappeared beneath his pajama pants. Every time I saw that, I wanted to run my tongue over that trail; to drag my lips over the sharp V of his pelvis, and dip my fingers into the waistband of his pants, slowly pulling them down to reveal my prize.

That was what my days were filled with. Trying to keep Noah from doing too much and hurting himself, and also trying to resist the temptation to throw out everything the doctor had said and fuck him until all he could do was moan my name. It was broken up by Netflix binging sessions, gaming marathons, and phone calls. Lots of phone calls.

I checked in with Grizz, Avery, Warren, and Daya, passing along updates to Noah as I got them. They were still working on digging up dirt, but Avery had found a previous boyfriend of Brett's and was en route to talk to him. Noah, meanwhile, got his own work calls. It grated on me at first. I wasn't sure I'd ever be totally okay with guys who paid to fuck him calling him up when he was supposed to be resting.

But to my surprise, the conversations weren't some one-sided demand for Noah to get back to work. The way Noah talked, his clients seemed genuinely concerned about how he was doing. I didn't really understand it, and I finally asked after the fifth call in two days.

"Is that common?"

He looked at me, his face still a little flushed from laughing at whatever the guy had said. "What? Calls from clients?" A playful smirk touched his lips, but there was annoyance in his eyes, too. "You're not going to go all caveman on me, are you?"

"I don't care about the calls," I lied. "It just... seems weird they'd call just to see how you're doing."

Noah looked at me for a long moment then, his expression caught halfway between amusement and irritation. I thought he maybe looked a little hurt, too, but I wasn't sure. "What is it you think I do, Cam?"

I shifted on the couch, looking away from him. "I don't know. Fuck closeted straight guys who can't deal with their sexuality?"

I knew that could've gone bad, even as I was saying it. Fortunately, Noah just snorted.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "A lot of my clients are guys who don't feel comfortable exploring their sexuality anywhere else. But that's why they come to me. Because I make them feel comfortable. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I do everything I can to make that time positive for them."

Yeah, I could imagine. But the way he talked, it almost seemed like he was offering them therapy as much as "sexual healing."

"Sometimes I spend eighty percent of my time just talking to clients. These are guys who don't have anybody else they can turn to, and they trust me." There was a note of something in his voice that drew me in--and made me feel like an ass for ever questioning him. "So yeah, they care about how I'm doing. Shocker, I know."

He looked away from me, focusing on the TV. He'd been curled up in a blanket, flipping through various shows to find one that caught his interest. Now his attention seemed even less focused, the title cards of shows and movies scrolling by practically the moment they loaded.

"I never knew," I admitted quietly.

Noah finally looked over at me, his dark blue eyes searching mine. "You never asked."

I'd spent years thinking of Noah as one thing. Just a guy who sold his body to random assholes who couldn't get laid the normal way if their life depended on it. Over that time, he'd told me my thinking was outdated; that it had no bearing on who he was or how he spent his time. But I'd refused to listen. All of those moments came rushing back now, and I felt compelled to say something.

"Your work's... really important to you, isn't it?"

I wanted to apologize, but I wasn't sure Noah would take it as sincere. At least this way he'd see I was maybe starting to learn something. As if reading my thoughts, Noah gave me a small smile that set my mind at ease.

"Glad you're finally starting to see that, Cammy." He reached over and patted my knee, and the two of us spent the next half hour browsing Netflix and Hulu together, trying to find something to watch.

Eventually we settled on some dumb action movie that sounded like a good way to hand over a few dozen brain cells--the perfect choice for two guys who just wanted to zone out. I nuked some popcorn, mainly so Noah didn't get up to do it, and settled beside him on the couch again, a cushion between us. Until Noah swung his legs up onto the couch and rested them in my lap without batting an eyelash.

The movie turned out better than I'd given it credit for, and after about twenty minutes I was sucked in. Noah and I shared popcorn from a big bowl that now sat between Noah's legs, and after a while even that didn't faze me. My attention was fully on the movie as my hand dipped into the bowl. So much so that I didn't notice at first when a piece didn't make it to my mouth, and instead fell onto my lap, pinging off of Noah's ankle. To my amusement, he didn't notice, either.

This was... nice. I'd never had this before, even with a friend. Overseas, I never had a chance to let my guard down enough to enjoy something so simple as a shitty movie. And since I'd been back, life had been one case after another, never stopping, never taking time to myself. From the moment Kacey introduced me to Grizz as a way to cope and find purpose again, I'd thrown myself into the work.

As I watched the movie, though, something started to change. The music ramped up, and my pulse skyrocketed right along with the orchestral swell. Everything in the scene, from the lighting to the camera work, suggested there was danger near. My senses shot into high alert, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Sweat beaded on my brow, my breathing grew labored, and I was filled with this indescribable sense of unease.

It was like being in Afghanistan again. Being on patrol with Riggs, doing what was supposed to be a routine walk-through. I'd felt off then, too, and I hadn't warned him. I played it down.

Near silence filled the room. The only sound was that of the character's breathing, so close it felt like Riggs standing beside me, his warm breath against my ear. When the explosion rang out, it rattled through every bone in my body. And suddenly I really was back in Afghanistan, knocked down by the force, staggered by the sudden flare of heat on an already sweltering summer day. I could feel something slicing my skin, could smell the burn of chemicals as they assaulted my nose.

"Cam?"

Someone's voice called to me, so distant it might as well have been a world away. I leapt up, ignoring the pain. I had to get to Riggs. I had to get him out of there; get him help.

"Hey, are you--"

A hand reached for me, and I shrugged it off. Nobody was going to keep me from him. Not this time. I was going to save him, dammit. Even if it meant handing over my own life so he could live.

"Cameron, wherever you think you are right now, you're not." The insistent voice wavered, blended with the voice of my CO before pulling back to something sweeter. Softer. "You're here with me. With Noah. Remember?"

Noah.

Kind, considerate, unbelievably sexy Noah. The guy I was supposed to be protecting right now.

The room came into focus, and Noah's face with it. He was standing right in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. I'd gotten off the couch at some point, but hadn't made it more than a few steps before he stopped me. My heart was still pounding, that danger lurking so close I could feel it breathing down my neck. I wasn't going to come back from this one. Not on my own.

"My bathroom," I managed, my voice shaking. "There's a pill bottle."

Noah didn't hesitate. He hurried to the bathroom, and I heard the creak of the medicine cabinet as it opened.

"Which one?"

"Klonopin."

I could practically feel the adrenaline pounding through my veins, that fight or flight response taking over my rational mind. I had to fight to get back any space at all, and I knew if I didn't ground myself soon, even the medication wasn't going to help as much as it should.

Five things. Five things I could see. I looked around, my gaze unfocused until I forced myself to slow down. The TV. The coffee table. Blu-ray player. Stack of mail. My phone. Four things I could feel. The carpet against my bare feet. The skin of my palm. The tag of my shirt on my back. A bead of sweat dripping down my face. Three things I could hear. The voices in the movie. The rattle of the pill bottle as Noah brought it out. The sound of traffic on the street below.

I drew in a long breath and let it out. The exercise was working. I felt like a part of my environment, instead of being trapped in the past. Even as Noah handed me the bottle of pills and a Dixie cup of water, I continued.

Two things I could smell. Noah's shampoo. Floral. Spicy. I breathed in the scent, catching a whiff of popcorn, too. Popping the pill in my mouth and chasing it with plenty of water, I marked that down in my mind as the thing I could taste. If nothing else, the exercise kept my focus on something other than the stress reaction.

"Can I do anything?" Noah asked, tentatively putting his hand on my back.

"Sit with me for a minute." It was still hard to manage words, like I was fighting for breath with every one. I was able to sit down on the couch, though, with Noah beside me. He grabbed the remote and flipped off the TV. "Talk to me."

Noah did. He didn't even need a topic, he just started talking. I couldn't follow half of it, but there was a beautiful chaos to the constant shift in topic and the rambling diatribes that made me smile. As he carried on in that animated way of his, I felt the Klonopin working. I hated being dependent on drugs of any kind, but my psych told me it was the same as someone with anemia needing to take an iron supplement. I knew I shouldn't consider it a crutch, and most of the time, I kept myself from thinking that way.

But most of the time, I didn't need it. That was why I kept it in my medicine cabinet instead of keeping the bottle on me like a responsible adult.

Eventually, I started to feel something close to normal. The cool air was drying the sweat on my body, and my skin didn't feel clammy anymore. I let out a shuddered breath, then focused on Noah who'd finally stopped talking.

"Thanks," I said softly.

He just nodded, but I could see the fear in those beautiful eyes of his. I wanted to stroke his cheek, coax his eyes to close, press a feather-light kiss to each of his eyelids just to reassure him I was okay. But I wasn't. Not really. I'd never be completely okay, and that was why Noah and I would always be a bad idea.

"I know you probably don't, but... if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here," he said.

It was a bad idea. The last thing I wanted to do was shove my burdens off onto him. But right now, it didn't feel like the worst thing in the world. And some part of me desperately wanted him to know.

"Sometimes there are things that just... set me off," I started, my gaze moving to the now blank television screen. "There's not always a lot of rhyme or reason to it. It's not one specific thing. Just anything that makes me stressed out, if I can't get ahold of myself..."

I felt Noah's hand on my shoulder, gently rubbing and kneading down into my back. "Where do you go?"

"Afghanistan," I answered without hesitation. "Different memories. Different moments. Sometimes my brain gets stuck on things I know didn't ever fucking happen. And sometimes..."

I let out a long, shaky breath. I'd only ever told my therapist about Riggs, and even then, I hadn't told the whole story. She knew enough to know he was my friend and that I felt guilty about what happened to him. She didn't know the rest of it.

"I had a buddy overseas, deployed the same time I was. We were in the same unit for most of our service, usually worked on the same jobs together. One night we were out on a routine patrol. Nobody in our squad had seen anything out of the ordinary for almost two weeks, so we didn't expect anything weird." We still came prepared. Guns cleaned and loaded. Equipment secured. Radios tuned back to base. "We'd walked maybe a mile, just talking shit. But something started to change. You know how you can feel when something bad is about to happen? You know it, deep in your gut?"

Noah nodded, his brows drawn up, gaze intent on me.

"I felt it then, but I thought... I don't know what I thought." I'd made things weird between us, earlier in the day. Last thing I wanted to do was unsettle him even more. "I didn't say anything to him. He'd taken point, and next thing I knew..."

Even now, the deafening roar of the explosion shook me to my core. My eardrums must have shattered, because all I heard after the initial rush of sound was a sharp ringing, everything else fading like I was underwater.

“He took the brunt of the IED,” I said, forcing the words out of my mouth. They didn’t begin to capture what I’d actually witnessed that day. “I got hit by the shrapnel and the outer edges of the blast, but nowhere near as bad as him.” I drew in a shaky breath, my eyes closing against the memories. “I had to drag him back to camp, but I was so fucking disoriented I couldn’t remember what direction we’d even gone. I wasted so much time out there, being so fucking stupid…”

Noah squeezed my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to find him looking at me not with pity, but with determination. It wasn’t your fault. I wouldn’t have listened if he’d said it out loud, but seeing it written all over his face helped pull me off of that trajectory.

“It was already too late by the time I got him some help. Medics did what they could, but…”

They told me later his organs had practically ruptured inside his body. I’d retched up every last bit of bile in my stomach for hours after that.

“I’m so sorry, Cameron,” Noah said quietly. “I can’t imagine living through something like that.”

“I used to wish…” I forced out another breath and continued, “I used to wish it’d been me instead of him. For a long time, even after I was discharged. Enough years in therapy helped with that, at least.”

“I’m really glad you went,” his voice was light, filled with a sincerity that made my heart squeeze in my chest.

“Me too,” I admitted in what was almost a whisper.

Noah moved closer to me, one hand still rubbing my back and shoulder while the other twined with mine. Having him there, feeling his breathing, it put me at ease more than I’d ever thought possible.

Maybe that was why I decided to tell him something I’d never told another soul.

“I loved him.” Once the words were out there, I just felt… numb. “We fooled around a few times, and earlier that day I tried to get him to admit he was bi.” I snorted as misery hit me. “That went over about as well as I expected, but by the time we went out on patrol, he’d let it go. So… I did, too.”

Maybe if I kept fighting him on it, he would’ve refused to take patrol with me. But I knew that pattern of thinking only led one direction, and it wasn’t remotely helpful. Instead, I focused on the here and now—on the things I could change.

“What happened to him… it’s horrible,” Noah said, his eyes sparking with resolve, “but you deserve better than that.”

“Maybe.” He was so close, and when I looked into his eyes, I swore I saw myself reflected there. “But what I want…”

Understanding dawned in his eyes. It was soft at first; comforting. But it flared to life with a heat that drew me even closer to him. I still remembered what he tasted like, and I wanted that—needed it—again.

I reached for him, my hand pressing against the back of his head, drawing him to me even as he leaned in. Our mouths crashed together, and the kiss that followed was all desperation. Lips, tongues, teeth met, giving and taking with abandon. I drank it all in, thrived on it, let it embolden impulses I knew I shouldn’t give in to.

Before I could stop myself, my hands were at the hem of his shirt and I was tugging it up. He lifted his arms, breathless as the kiss broke, before returning to me with a fervor that told me he was completely on board with this—even if it was wrong.

With his torso bared to me—save the bandage still wrapped around his ribs—I made the most of my position. My head dropped to his shoulder and my mouth found that cord of muscle in his neck. I sucked on it, following it down to his collarbone and giving that the same treatment. His whimpered moans only spurred me on, his hands buried in my hair as he encouraged me to move further down.

There was nothing slow or subtle about my exploration. My lips left a trail of fire in their wake, and I went straight for the flats of his nipples, running my tongue over them before drawing one into my mouth. Noah arched against me, his keening moan setting my senses on fire. The feel of him, the taste of his skin spoke to me on a primal level, but even as I sucked on the other firm nipple, I needed more.

My hands moved to his pants, and I’d never been more thankful for the fact that Noah had worn pajama bottoms tonight. He lifted up when I tugged, and I was easily able to get the pants to his knees. My mouth stayed occupied, for now, but my hand moved over the front of his briefs, gripping the hard ridge of his erection, stroking him until the head of his dick just peeked out above the waistband of his underwear, precum beading at the slit.

“Need to taste you,” I said, my voice a savage rumble in my throat.

Noah shuddered against me. “I’m sure as hell not stopping you.”

It was all the answer I’d needed, and everything I could’ve hoped for. “Lean back,” I commanded, and Noah scooted back on the couch, moving so that his ass was against the arm farthest away from me.

I leaned over him, careful not to put any pressure on his ribs, and kissed him hard. He wasted no time reaching into the waistband of my jogging pants, his wrist turning as his palm cupped my aching cock. My hips jerked, and I let myself rut against his hand like I was a horny teenager, the friction and the kiss making me breathless.

I pulled back with a growl, and yanked Noah’s underwear past his own needy dick. It sprang free, and he lifted up off of the couch, urging me on. I wrapped one hand around the base of him, stroking up and down for a few moments before I couldn’t take it anymore. I took him past my lips, the taste of him hitting the back of my tongue as I sucked him.

Some part of me wanted to take my time, but I knew if I stopped to think, I’d talk myself out of it. So instead I swirled my tongue around the crown, pressing against the underside of his dick and letting that bolt of white, hot lust shoot through me when he moaned.

“Oh fuck, Cam. Yes,” he gasped.

Both of his hands buried themselves in my hair as I took more of him into my mouth, loving the way his smooth skin glided between my lips. I jacked him in time with my movements, applying just enough suction to drive him crazy, if the erratic thrusting of his hips was any indication.

“So close already, baby,” he panted, his voice pleading. “Don’t want to—”

I squeezed the base of his dick, lifting my eyes to meet his. They were dark and half-lidded, but I saw the exact moment realization hit him. I wanted to make him come. I wanted him to be so caught up in this frenzied whirlwind that he had no choice. I wanted whatever restraint he’d built up over the years to crumble as I worked him.

And it did.

I moved my head in time with Noah’s hips at first, then gripped his thighs to keep him pinned against the arm of the couch as I drew him deep into my mouth, taking complete control.

His hips bucked, and he gave himself over to me. Hands tightened into fists in my hair, pulling enough that I felt a sharp, delicious sting of pain. His dick jerked in my mouth, and hot cum hit the back of my throat as he let go.

I stayed there, lips tight around him, milking every last drop until he was shaking from the effort of his orgasm. When I finally drew away and let myself take in the image of the satisfied man below me, I felt vindicated.

Then, slowly, the doubts started to creep in. Even as my own dick strained against my clothes, painfully hard and begging for release.

But Noah didn’t let me succumb. Whether he sensed the change in mood or was just responding to a flood of hormones, I wasn’t sure. Either way, he all but shoved me back against the couch, his lips on mine, tongue greedily seeking out his own taste. I groaned into the kiss, the sound almost turning into a whine as he pulled away.

Before I could wrap my head around what was happening, Noah was on his knees in front of me. He pulled my pants down, shoved my knees apart, and pressed that sweet, hot mouth to the front of my briefs. I was lost, even from the feel of his lips and tongue through the fabric. One of my hands gripped his hair, the other his shoulder as he tortured me—giving me what I wanted, but not enough.

“Quit being such a fucking tease,” I growled, knowing I was completely at his mercy.

He knew it, too. His eyes glinted with mischief as much as lust, but he finally pulled my underwear down, freeing my erection. Deft fingers wrapped around my dick and he stroked me slowly, his eyes meeting mine in the most erotic eye-fuck I’d ever experienced in my life.

I could have come just from that, but Noah intended to give as good as he got. He took me into his mouth, and the sudden feeling of tight, wet heat made my balls tighten and my muscles clench.

“Fuck, yes,” I moaned, urging him on.

Noah didn’t need the encouragement. He gave me a taste of exactly what I’d done to him, his tongue working magic as it sought out every sensitive spot, his mouth giving me just enough pressure.

My head fell back as he worked me, my hips jerking in time with his movements. When I was finally able to look down at him, his big blue eyes were completely focused on me, telling me what he wanted without saying a single word.

He eased his lips and his throat, challenging me to give it to him, and I wasn’t about to deny him that. Gripping his hair, my hand cradling the back of his head, I thrust up into his mouth, taking control and fucking him with hard, fast pumps.

Noah didn’t once falter. His gaze stayed locked with mine, even as my pace increased. And that sexy, confident look in his eyes had me losing the control I’d gained far faster than I wanted.

I felt the orgasm build in me and tried desperately to stave it off, but it broke past my willpower in a blinding, forceful crash of pleasure. I cried out, my grip tightening in Noah’s hair even as he locked his lips around me, his throat working as my body spasmed, his painted nails raking over my abdomen.

The force of it had me unable to move, my body almost seeming to sink into the couch as I gave him everything I had. He took it eagerly, and when he pulled away, a shudder wracked my over-sensitive body.

I felt him collapse on the couch beside me, but I couldn’t seem to move. My head swam, the strength of that orgasm still washing over me. Slowly, though, the pleasure began to fade. As I sat there, half naked, dick soft, still trying to catch my breath, I could feel the doubts creeping in.

And this time, I knew I didn’t have a way to stop them.