Freedom in Falling

by J. Emery

  He studied Noah's upturned face. Noah had knelt at his feet while West stripped off his shirt and sat before offering up his hands to be bound. Noah hadn't moved since. On his knees like that he looked ready to pray even though he had the kind of face that said he'd never done a Hail Mary once in his life and never would.

  "Well? In or out?" Noah asked in a hushed voice. It was the most sincere he'd ever sounded. When West didn't answer immediately, Noah's hands dropped, the left grazing the top of West's thigh, resting there a moment before he realized what he was doing and removed it.

  West nodded. He didn't want to walk away from this. He might never be able to get it back if he did.

  The smile aimed at him turned wry. "I don't know what that means, sweetheart."

  "In." He choked on the word. It couldn't have been more terrifying. He was free falling.

  It shouldn't matter. There was no one to witness him besides the two of them and Noah's opinion of him held no sway. Not about coffee or how West dressed or about how hot West got just thinking about being covered in rope, lots of rope, and nothing else. His opinion rolled off like rain. West didn't care.

  Okay, he did. But not enough to stop. His mind had been made up the second after he saw the rope. He knew that now.

  At his agreement, Noah's head bowed again to his rope work and West almost missed the final passes in and out before the rope around his wrists pulled snug. He was bound for the first time. "Not too tight?" Noah tested the ropes, fingers pressing against West's palms and his pulse and his forearms as he surveyed his work.

  West's mouth was a desert so he shook his head, hoping that would be enough of an answer this time. His eyes stayed trained on his wrists. It felt... good. He hadn't expected that. An experimental tug and a twist showed him the limits of his current movement. Constrained. He could move his hands and his arms but only so far. The rope was a constant gentle pressure. He couldn't free himself now without Noah's help but there was nothing uncomfortable about it. It might have been Noah's hands around his wrists instead of a band of rope. It felt the same. Like being held.

  Noah was speaking, but West caught only a fraction of it. He was too busy savoring. A part of him kept expecting the door to burst in and for someone to see him, accuse him, but that part was rapidly shrinking.

  What would they think if they knew? He didn't know anymore why he should care. This was the closest he'd ever come to what he saw in Noah. That freedom. West wanted to be a version of himself that didn't care what anyone thought too.

  "One more thing," West said. Now or never.

  "What's that?"

  "Blindfold me."

  "Come again?" Noah stood so perfectly still that West couldn't even see him breathing.

  "At our last session, you asked what would make me more comfortable. I do better when I can't see the camera and I don't want anyone to know it's me in your photos. Not now. I might change my mind later, but for right now I want to be anonymous. So I want you to blindfold me."

  A slow, radiant smile spread across Noah's face. "I knew I liked you. You sure though? I don't want you rushing into anything."

  West held up his bound hands. "I've already gone this far. Shut up and blindfold me."

  Noah's laugh held almost sinister glee as he turned to poke around in his trunk. "I think I have something that should suit you. Give me a second. Sure you don't need anything else while I'm in here? A gag perhaps?"

  West let out a strangled gasp which made Noah laughed even harder. "Not this time."

  "Good. I don't actually have one here. But let me know if you change your mind and I can make some arrangements. Here we are." He held up a length of silky white fabric. "You'll probably still be able to see through it a bit, but for your first time that's probably better. It is your first time being blindfolded outside of junior high party games, yes?"

  He hadn't even been blindfolded for games. He never played anything where it was an option. West nodded.

  "Then this will be a treat for you. Sit up straight and we'll finish wrapping you up like the most delicious present ever."

  West's retort was cut short as the scarf blotted out his view of the room and of Noah's smirk. He would have clung to the stool at the sudden, unexpected disorientation, but he couldn't with his hands bound. He needn't have worried. Noah gripped his arms, rubbing in gentle circles as he steadied West.

  "How we doing?" Noah's voice was soft in his ear.

  West bit his tongue to stifle a groan. "Fine. I'm fine."

  Something fluttered in his chest before spreading to the rest of his limbs. Tingles of awareness. He was better than fine. Not that he would say that. To Noah. The cause of all this perfect calm.

  Everything around him was a foggy white blur. The scarf wasn't opaque and the light coming in the window left him enough vision to pick out some shapes. The blue box of the window. The long dark rectangle of Noah's body. The knotted fabric pressed against the back of his scalp as he tilted his head. Knotted rope warmed his wrists. He was covered in knots, but he'd never felt looser.

  "You ready, sweetheart?"

  While West was busy exploring his new boundaries, Noah had laid out sheets, hung up the drape he used as a backdrop, and adjusted the lights. His camera hung around his neck. West could just see it if he tilted his head back at the right angle.

  "Yeah. Yes."

  "Good."

  Noah guided him into place, seating him on the floor this time. The fabric backdrop brushed against West's shoulder blades. It had an intimacy that it wouldn't normally have had. Waiting for Noah to put him where he belonged.

  The rest of the session passed like a dream. Noah kept up a running commentary, talking to himself as much as to West, always moving as though he was a shark and he would die if he stopped circling and talking.

  The ropes left a pink impression on West's wrists that lasted long after they were removed. He ran his finger over them again and again, feeling the twisted outline. Hopefully they lasted a while.

  "So, how was it?" Noah asked, plopping down on the stool that West had vacated to retrieve his shirt. He'd set his camera on a table in the corner. His empty hands rubbed over his thighs. It was that and the tapping foot that gave away his nervousness.

  Which was why West ended up smiling. It was easier knowing they were both on uneven footing. That way it wasn't just him making an ass of himself. It wasn't just him with no clue what they were doing here and why. "It was good."

  Relief melted through Noah. His shoulders slumped. Then his smile was back, lighting his whole face with neon. A little of it reflected back on West. "Perfect. You up for another round this week?"

  "Yeah. I think I have the time."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Downtime

  West tossed his keys onto the table beside the door and shrugged out of his coat. His muscles ached after that last session. His back, his thighs, muscles he'd forgotten he possessed suddenly ached as the tension drained away. He felt like he could fly.

  His fingers crept under his shirt cuff. The rope marks were fading already, barely ghosts on his skin, so he flexed his wrists to remember how it felt to be held in place. Secure. Too bad that the feeling came attached to... him.

  Noah.

  The name didn't suit him. It should belong to someone else. Someone less. Less what, West didn't know. It was too small of a name for that bundle of nerves and wicked smiles. Nothing about Noah was less. He was more and he made West feel more than he'd ever felt in his whole life. Being with Noah today had set him on fire. He'd known every nerve ending, every muscle, every breath. Every bit of himself stretched to fill the room. God. He didn't have to learn to love that feeling. He already did.

  West dropped onto the couch and sat staring at the wall. The late day sun crept across the floor and walls, turning gold. He watched the patterns it made, the faint sparkle as it caught on threads and glass, even the cover of his book sitting on the side table. His breath came slow and even. The sky flamed with ora
nge and pink so bright it looked fake. He couldn't remember the last time he had bothered to watch a sunset. Everything was worn smooth.

  When the phone rang, he answered it without looking.

  "Hiiiiiii," drawled Charlotte. "You're not busy, are you? You can't be busy. You never go out. Can you come pick me up? Please?" When he didn't answer she added a second please. Her pleading hands were almost audible through the phone.

  "It's a school night, isn't it? Where are you going this... late?" He had to check the clock to be sure that it was actually late. Five o'clock could reasonably be considered late. By some people. Today he was one of them.

  "West, it's Friday."

  "And? You had school earlier."

  "I don't think that's what a school night means."

  "Isn't it?"

  "I don't know. Just stop being an old lady and come get me. I need to go to the grocery store and Reese won't drive," she whined. "He said I should have thought of that earlier."

  Reese would say that. West's thumb stroked over the memory of rope against his wrist. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll be there soon. Just be ready. I'm not coming in."

  "Yes! I will. Okay." She hung up in the middle of saying goodbye.

  As good as her word, Charlotte stood on the front walk when he pulled up, wallet held in both hands. She bounced into the car. Her mouth started before she'd even buckled her seatbelt. "Thank you thank you thank you. I need my mac and cheese. And pads. I think we're almost out. Can you believe Reese? He said I should walk, but it's miles and miles and already dark. Whatever happened to stranger danger? I could be snatched. And it's cold. The weather said it was below freezing with the windchill."

  "Certainly feels like it," West said.

  "Right? It's cold. And he's just watching some dumb true crime show. Okay, it's not dumb. I like that show. But you know what I mean."

  She paused, huffing something under her breath.

  "Hey, how's school going?"

  "What? Why're you asking about school again? You never ask about school. Did mom tell you something? Because the law says I'm innocent until proven guilty."

  West chuckled. "I don't know. You sound pretty guilty."

  "I don't have to incriminate myself." She folded her arms over her chest. "You're in a good mood. It's weird."

  "Gee, thanks."

  "You're welcome. School is fine. In the sense that it exists and I'm forced to attend when a nice long nap until spring would be so much more spiritually enriching for me than say... reading The Great Gatsby."

  West made a face. He had his own not so fond memories. "Oh no."

  "That's what I'm saying. So why are you in a good mood?" She stroked a hand over her chin as though she had an imaginary beard. "Please tell me it's a boy or something. I need gossip."

  "Can't you get that from your school friends? Ask what's her name. Jo? Was there a Jo?"

  She snorted. "There was not a Jo. But there was a Jamie. Back in middle school. There is now a Vivica, Brady, and possibly a wild Chris or two if you time it right."

  "Damn. I was close."

  "You were in an entirely different neighborhood. Is it That Guy? Are you dating now? Ask him where he got that coat. I want one."

  "What coat are you even talking about?" Noah had worn so many different things that it was hard to keep track.

  "The one. You know, with the hearts. All over it. They had little frowny faces. And you didn't say it wasn't him so HA! I was right! I knew I was right."

  "You're not right."

  "But—"

  "We're not dating."

  "But—" The joy fell out of her face like she was a bucket with a hole in it.

  "He asked me to model for him," West said in the spirit of honesty. He hadn't told a single person yet even though the need had been eating its way through him after today. But he had no one to tell that wouldn't ruin it for him. Except Charlotte. That was a little depressing. He needed more friends. The few he'd had fell away once high school ended and making more had never been a priority. They took so much time.

  The wild glee on Charlotte's face was worth it though. She squealed so loud his ears were still ringing when he parked at the grocery store. She yanked him out of the car. "Tell me everything."

  "Not everything," he amended. There were some things he needed to keep for himself. "But some. You're just making me come so I can carry the basket, aren't you?"

  Another snort. "Please. We're getting a cart and I'm pushing."

  "You're too old to ride on it. It'll tip."

  "Thanks, mom."

  He flicked her in the back of the head and hurried through the automatic doors before she could catch him.

  "SHIT, IT WAS SO HOT. He was so hot," Noah said, pausing in his spackling with a look of bliss that the chore didn't usually elicit. "That ass. I just want to bite it. And it kills me that I can't, but it almost makes it hotter that I can't, you know?"

  At his side, Margot nodded. "Forbidden fruit." Built like the pinup model version of a librarian, all soft curves and glorious dark brown waves, right down to the cat's eye glasses, she was also one of Noah's most enduring, if not oldest, friends. If they were keeping score he probably owed her the world by now, for all the late night drama calls he'd put her through. Or at least a very nice card. He made a mental note to swing by the store and see if they had any leftover Christmas candy. It was the thought that counted and clearance candy always tasted the best anyway.

  "Maybe not forbidden," he said. His putty knife scraped against the wall before he moved on to the next nail hole to be filled.

  It was reset day at the gallery which meant taking down all the old art, patching holes and repainting any scuffs, before hanging the new work for the quarter. It worked mostly through the power of cooperation and normally it was a mind numbingly boring task, but today Noah felt energized. Like he'd been well fucked and slept for a week before waking up to a sky full of rainbows.

  "Is he into you?"

  He considered. "Maybe? Sometimes he gets this look like he's down to fuck and then bam, he locks down tighter than"—he fumbled for an analogy before giving up—"a really tight thing. I don't know. But after that it's back to ice queen and I'm getting frostbite."

  "Oh God." Margot rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder. "You're getting off on this, aren't you?"

  "Who's to say?" He grinned.

  "You are."

  "A little, yeah. But come on. Something is finally going right for a change. And I was still the very picture of professionalism I'll have you know. Perfect gentleman. I need this. I need him not to freak out and dart into the underbrush. This could be real and I haven't felt this good about a shoot in forever. I don't want to lose this." He straightened, putty knife raised like a torch. "He's like my muse."

  "You hate when people talk about their muses." Her air quotes dripped with sarcasm.

  "I know. It's pretentious as fuck. But shit, Margot, the earth was moving for me. I could barely sleep last night just thinking about the next shoot with him. I got ideas. Plans. Themes. Dare I say, maybe even a touch of motivation."

  "You sure that's not just your dick talking?"

  He leered at her.

  "Uh huh. That's what I thought. I'm happy for you though. Have fun with your new toy, just watch yourself, okay? You're all fire and no brain sometimes and I don't want to see you hurt again."

  Goodbye, serotonin. It's not like he was using that or anything.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

  "Yeah, but you're not wrong. That shit with Becca was brutal and I should've known better. She told me. She fucking told me it was just temporary."

  "She was a bitch anyway."

  "You just say that because you're my friend."

  "Pssh. I say it because she treated you like a servant."

  She had. But at the time he hadn't hated it. When he cared for someone he really cared and part of that caring was trying to make them happy. He liked being the one to do that for them. Noah, d
efender of love. Purveyor of happiness. It was the closest he was ever going to get to being a Sailor Scout.

  Noah returned to spackling with a vengeance, moving down the wall away from Margot. "This time will be different. Look but don't touch. I'm a changed man. And then you'll fucking see in a couple months. This shit is gonna be fire." It was quiet for a long time except for the scrape of their putty knives on drywall. "I'm still gonna enjoy the fuck out of the view while I can though, let's be real. Build a monument to that boy's ass. And those lips. Got a sneer on him that makes me weak in the knees. I love it. It's beautiful."

  "You're hopeless." Margot laughed.

  "And yet you keep hoping."

  "I do."

  He filled another hole and looked around. They'd finished most of the spackle work in the main gallery area, all the old art leaned against the walls in the back, the new art waiting to take its place. "Where the hell is everyone else? They're supposed to be helping with this. Fucking slackers."

  The gallery looked different with all the walls bare and the spotlights off. It just looked like a room. A boring room, half white walls and the rest bare brick. Large windows letting in cold winter sunlight. The floor creaked like a horror movie. Scuffs and ancient paint splatters were the only indicator of where they were. With the walls empty, the gallery was a box waiting to be filled. The end of a dream.

  "Got me. They got the schedule. Carter said he'd be late to help with hanging so he's excused. He's still got some kind of family thing going on."

  "Good or bad?"

  "Good this time. I think."

  Noah nodded.

  "I haven't heard from Sophie in like three weeks though. Not sure what's up there."

  "Sophie's always been a flake."