FoM02 Trammel

by Anah Crow

  “I take it the oil is helping,” Lindsay said as he rubbed oil into Noah’s thighs and hips. His gaze flicked from Noah’s hardening cock to his face. “Or do you have a kink I ought to know about?”

  “Yes, and quite possibly,” Noah answered, trying to cover all his bases.

  It was mostly Lindsay’s fault, really. If one didn’t know what the fae were, one might say Lindsay looked like one. But to Noah, Lindsay looked like pure class on top of being gorgeous. Unwashed and worn down, he still seemed more elegant than most people did clean. Elegant was about the sharp bones and that skin that was nearly luminous and those wide eyes with the brightness of intelligence in them.

  Lindsay’s hands stilled on Noah’s belly and his head tilted. “Oh?”

  He started massaging again, working the oil into Noah’s tender skin, but it was obvious that Lindsay expected Noah to elaborate. If only Noah could remember what he’d been saying. He backtracked in his head, and laughed.

  “I’m a bad person to ask about kinks. I just...it’s all pretty good.” If he had to think about sex right now, Noah was never going to be functional this morning. “If everybody’s happy, then it’s good.”

  If he thought about what he used to like too much, anyway, he’d make himself melancholy. Before he’d ruined himself, before his magic had come to plague him, his body had felt like his home. Sex was magic of its own, something to share, to connect the lonely. He’d loved it and he’d been good at it—

  sharing had always made him happy.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Lindsay’s slick fingers trailed over Noah’s cock, but he moved away to work on Noah’s neck and arms instead. “Roll over.”

  “You’re a bad man.” Noah obeyed, sprawling out as far as he could. They had to get something done today, anything. Now wasn’t the time for playing or resting, as much as he wanted to soak in the sensations of being nearly whole again.

  “I actually thought I was rather good,” Lindsay countered. He quickly finished Noah’s back, but lingered over his ass longer than was strictly necessary. “But you’ll have to confirm that some other time.

  Kristan will be back soon.”

  “And I won’t get to lie around and play rent boy all day.”

  That was a rather sad thought, and Noah would have felt very differently about it a few days ago.

  Whether it was the experience they’d gone through together or the magic Lindsay had used to save him, Noah felt like some wall in him had crumbled. He felt twenty-five again, not eighty-five—still sorrowful, but not afflicted by it. He could move forward without losing his past.

  “Do you know what we need to do now?” Noah tried to focus on the practical, instead of on Lindsay’s strong, slim fingers sliding over his ass; his newly healthy body was obsessed with how good Lindsay could make him feel. “Other than bathe and find me something to wear?”

  “I would love to bathe.” Lindsay made it sound like an orgasmic experience, the emphasis he put on the word. “No running water. We’ll have to find a truck stop or something. Kristan is going to pick up some clothes for you while she’s out, though.”

  Lindsay patted Noah’s ass, letting him know he was finished. Noah couldn’t help but stretch all over again. Being free from pain was incredible, and now that the itching was gone, he felt relaxed and content enough that he was ready to go back to bed. However, he made himself sit up.

  “Thanks.” He gave Lindsay a grin. “Hope you enjoyed that a little, at least.”

  “I’d have enjoyed it more if we had time to finish what I wanted to be starting,” Lindsay shot back.

  “Anyway, I know we need to find Ylli and Zoey, but I don’t know how. Cyrus is gone, so we can’t use the wind, and without some idea of where to look, I can’t use an illusion to pick them out of the masses. I’m not that good.”

  Noah grabbed a sheet to wrap around his waist and got up to test his legs. Cyrus hadn’t foreseen them being separated and left alone? Noah couldn’t quite believe that. The way things had fallen out, everything that happened had been perfectly predictable—unfortunate and horrendous, but predictable. He paced over to the window and looked out, wracking his memory for an answer.

  “Cyrus would have left some clues, just in case. I can’t see him letting all these years of work fall away. Cyrus was in this war that only he could see—in it to his ears—when my dad was my age.” Noah leaned on the sill, looking down into the narrow yard and dirty alley. “He was old, but...he was still with it, right?”

  “Yes.” Lindsay stood near the window, staring out past Noah. “He was always very aware of everything going on around him. I knew he was old, but I never would’ve thought he was... Well.”

  “We don’t do senile very well,” Noah said, dryly. “Please remember that when I get old.” He put his arm around Lindsay’s shoulders and gave him a little squeeze.

  “Let’s worry about that when you’re actually old enough for it to matter.” Lindsay leaned into the embrace. “So. Any idea what not-senile Cyrus might’ve had in mind?”

  Ironically, touching Lindsay made it easier to think. The bone-deep loneliness of separation from the people he loved had made Noah stupid with emptiness. Having his arms around Lindsay and his cheek on Lindsay’s hair calmed everything in him and let his mind work.

  “You’ve done everything you can,” he said, sorting through their meager resources. “Kristan’s doing everything she can. There’s only me left.” Cyrus must have believed that no matter how they ended up separated, they’d have the means to reconnect. All Noah had to offer that the others didn’t was the old ways.

  “I need a library, some office supplies, and a day and a night to work. Also, some odds and ends from a thrift store.” You could never go far wrong with a silver bowl, an iron needle, a sharp piece of flint and a mirror.

  “I think we can manage that.” Lindsay nodded slowly. “I saw a library on my way to Rajan’s office.”

  “As soon as I have something to wear, I’ll go.” Noah pressed a kiss to Lindsay’s hair.

  “If there’s a Y or a gym around here, I expect you can shower while I’m gone,” he added. The fact that Lindsay had the same dirty little dog smell that Noah remembered from sharing a room with his brothers didn’t bother him at all. It was the undertone of smoke—imagined or not—that made him vaguely queasy. More than vaguely when he inevitably remembered what had been burning.

  The front door rattled and banged open, followed by a bellow. “If you two are doing it, I’m joining you whether you like it or not. Otherwise, someone get down here and help me with these goddamn bags.”

  Lindsay laughed as he stepped away from Noah and took his hand. “Come on, before she does anything untoward.”

  “I don’t think it’s possible to prevent that.” In spite of the horrendous start they’d had, Noah couldn’t help liking Kristan. She’d screwed up, yes, but so had he. And when she could have bailed on everything, she’d stayed. “But we should try.”

  Humming his agreement, Lindsay turned and led Noah, sheet and all, downstairs to join Kristan. “You got what you needed?”

  “And it wasn’t as much fun as you’d think.” She was headed for the kitchen but she’d left a heap of bags in the front hall, random shopping bags that looked crumpled but stuffed with clothes, a duffel bag and a backpack. “Women who like shopping need a kick in the head.”

  “Did you get beer?” Noah couldn’t help himself.

  There was a long pause, then Kristan poked her head out of the kitchen. “If you’re not joking, Lindsay should leave now to get Rajan back—if he ever wants to see your dick again. Fuck you, beer. It’s heavy. I bought scotch.” She disappeared and the banging from the kitchen sounded like someone making a sandwich—loudly.

  Lindsay shook his head and went to dig through the bags. Noah could see the apprehension in him.

  When he came over to help sort Kristan’s haul, he ran his hand down Lindsay’s back to try to ease his discomfort.
/>   The backpack held the heavier items. Bottles in paper bags, and below that, angular metal things, also in paper bags. Guns and booze. Something for everyone. His family used hunting rifles and he’d once carried a handgun, in that other life. He wouldn’t carry one now, not unless Lindsay requested it.

  “You’re an only child, I take it?” Lindsay’s discomfort was still palpable.

  “Yes.” Lindsay said it flatly. He pulled out a pair of jeans, glanced at the size, and held them out. “I think these are for you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Noah could tell when he’d screwed up. Damn it, he knew that anything before Lindsay came to Cyrus was off-limits. He put the bag down and tugged the jeans on.

  “For what?”

  “If my question was out of line.” Noah kept his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t touch. “And I’ll try not to pull Kristan’s hair anymore.”

  “It’s. Just.” Lindsay’s shoulders drew up and one of his hands strayed to curl around his other wrist.

  He seemed to catch himself doing it, though, and waved his hand dismissively instead. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it. That’s all.”

  “This is me, not talking. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll heat you some water. I’ll bring it up and you can wash before you dress.”

  Lindsay looked at the cases of bottled water in the corner, then fished a bar of soap out of one of the bags. “Please. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be warm.”

  “You’ll turn blue. Go on.” He pointed Lindsay toward the stairs. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

  “You’ll want to look nice,” Kristan said, coming out of the kitchen with a bottle of chocolate milk and a sandwich. “Patches wants to borrow you today.”

  Lindsay was halfway to the stairs, but he stopped and turned back. “Do you know what she wants?”

  “Who?” It wasn’t any of his damn business, but Noah couldn’t help it.

  “She helped me find Rajan.” Lindsay didn’t seem concerned, but he was still looking at Kristan, waiting for her to answer him.

  “Something about a kid who got jammed up.” Kristan shrugged. “Should be a walk in the park for you.”

  If Noah had hair, he’d have pulled it out. Breaking someone out of jail did not sound like a promising side trip. But it was Lindsay’s business and he could well imagine that the return expected for bringing him back from the near-dead was going to be high.

  “I’ll get you something to eat and that hot water in a few minutes,” he said, stepping over the bags in the hall. “And I’ll sort this out.” It was better not to leave debts lying behind them, and they’d need to leave soon.

  In the kitchen, Noah found an old pot on the back of the counter that looked fairly clean and dumped a few bottles of water into it, and a few more. He’d use what was left to wash anything they wanted to take with them. He stared at the pot for a long moment, trying not to eavesdrop on Lindsay and Kristan.

  You’re putting a fire in water. What’s going to go wrong?

  There were an infinite number of answers to that question. Noah dropped a pinch of fire into the water and urged it to grow until it was the size of his fist. Behave. He turned his back on it and started making Lindsay’s breakfast. The cheerful fire burbled and chirped as it rolled in the water; it didn’t remember what it had done to him.

  The ingredients for the sandwiches were what Noah remembered from when he was a kid—bread, bologna, cheese. He couldn’t see Lindsay drinking chocolate milk, but that was what there was, that or cola. He ended up juggling everything, the pot lid upside down on the pot and all the rest stacked on top of that.

  “Lindsay?” He paused at the threshold to the room they’d shared last night.

  The door swung open and Lindsay stepped aside to let him in. “Thank you. If I’d realized you’d be carrying all that, I would’ve stayed downstairs to help.”

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

  It was Noah’s place to do this kind of thing; there was a benefit to it to him as well, the focus on the mundane that let raw, unsettled magic rest while the mind learned to be disciplined. Noah had grown up with all the concepts that made it possible to master magic, but he was in the minority, and he didn’t mind keeping with tradition. He put breakfast on the peeling bedside table and set the pot on the floor.

  “It’s pretty hot,” he warned. “Do you need anything else right now?”

  “I don’t think so.” Lindsay shook his head, and pulled his shirt off, dropping it on the floor. The light streaming through the window let Noah see what he couldn’t last night—skin pale enough that Noah almost expected to be able to see right through it, a fine dusting of silver-blond hair, and scars that ringed his neck and each of his wrists.

  It didn’t take Noah long to put the pieces together—they fell into place in his head with a thud that echoed guiltily in his stomach. He didn’t have specifics, but it was hard to forget Lindsay vomiting at the sight of the barre. It was a shameful thing to have to wear, but Lindsay’s reaction had shocked him. Now, he was even more ashamed and angry that Cyrus had let him do something so disrespectful to the person who was meant to mentor him.

  “I’m sorry.” Under Noah’s shame, seeing that vulnerability fueled a heat in his belly that flared with the memories of last night. Right now, though, his cheeks were even hotter and he could feel a flush creep down his throat. “I never would have... I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

  Lindsay looked up slowly, his expression frozen between a sort of suspicious caution and the flatness that came with trying to hide everything else.

  “You didn’t know.”

  His hands went to his fly, and he shed his jeans with a few quick jerks. Kneeling beside the pot of water, he turned his attention to unwrapping his bar of soap and toothbrush.

  “The Shackles of Tehut—whatever those were—the last set, or so I’m told.” He didn’t look up. “I broke them with my magic. It killed a lot of people. I killed a lot of people. But I got away from Moore.”

  Noah would wrack his memory for the specifics later, but only a few cultures and artifact makers had stooped to harnessing mages against their will. The barre—he could have broken it off of his wrist with a little effort and perhaps a hacksaw, but he’d had no interest in either damaging a family heirloom or burning Cyrus’s house down. He gave himself a shake and stepped over to grab the cloth Lindsay was about to take.

  “Let me? Please?”

  What Lindsay had suffered and what he’d done—Noah knew it would be hard for Lindsay to understand what that meant without the history and culture that Noah had absorbed as he grew up. All he could do was show Lindsay what it meant by how he behaved. He held out his hands.

  Lindsay looked at them for a long moment, then nodded. He put his hands in Noah’s and let Noah help him up to sitting on the bed. Handing over the soap, he said, “You’ll want this.”

  “Thank you.” Noah knew his warm hands would be welcome, as well as the warm water. He started with Lindsay’s feet. “I can tell that you’d prefer not to talk about those things, but you should know that in other places, you’d have no lack of people willing to do this. Anything, really. And you’d have better students than me.” He gave Lindsay a smile, when what he wanted to give Lindsay was kisses. “Even if you don’t realize it, I don’t forget. I won’t.”

  “I don’t see why.” Lindsay looked down at his hands. At his wrists. “What I do isn’t...” He shook his head, letting the words trail off.

  Noah took one of Lindsay’s hands, kissing the palm. “Do you trust me?”

  Lindsay’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes.”

  Noah finished washing Lindsay’s other hand, and kissed it as well. “So trust me about this. Without hyperbole, you’re amazing. Remarkable. No one I know would be anything less than giddy with pride if you were their son. What you did to save yourself is the kind of thing children hear stories about. It’s another world, and it would welcome you.”
/>   Lindsay was quiet, but he didn’t argue. The world Noah described and the one Lindsay lived in were at right angles to one another; Lindsay simply didn’t have the context for understanding why he would be valued that way. That hurt intensely, that Lindsay was so deprived of knowing himself.

  Noah knelt up and gave in to the need to express himself in some way that would be understood, offering Lindsay a soft kiss on the lips. At least, his logical self noted dryly, his advances wouldn’t be mistaken for some kind of infatuation or hero-worship.

  That earned him a tiny smile curling the corner of Lindsay’s mouth, and a kiss in return. “Give me a chance to brush my teeth and I’ll do that for real,” he teased.

  “Any time.” Noah tamped down the little imp in him that said Lindsay would understand him better if Noah put his thoughts into actions in some satisfyingly sexual way. “When the water’s not getting cold.”

  He picked up the soap again and wet the cloth. “If you don’t mind, that is.” He went back to cleaning off Lindsay’s legs. It wasn’t any hardship to touch all that smooth whiteness.

  “I don’t mind.” Lindsay held his legs out one at a time, making it easier for Noah to get at them.

  Hesitantly, he asked, “Would it help if I stood?”

  “Yes.” The word was out of Noah’s mouth before he could work out exactly how it would help. After the fact, he reasoned that he could wash Lindsay’s upper body and work his way back down. That would be helpful. He pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand.

  Lindsay slipped his hand into Noah’s and got up, stepping away from the bed and closer to the pot.

  “Better?”

  “Yes.” Noah kissed Lindsay’s shoulder chastely. He put the cloth down and gently turned Lindsay around. “May I?” he asked, touching Lindsay’s hair before gathering it back. He didn’t want to bare Lindsay’s scars any further without permission.