Freedom in Falling

by J. Emery

  "I thought we could try something a little more fun today. If you're up for it."

  West imagined shoving him back against the wall, knocking things out of the way as they tumbled, kissing that smirk off his face. "What did you have in mind?"

  "I had another idea for how to use that rope."

  That was when West gave up. Or in. He didn't care which it was, as long as Noah kept looking at him.

  THIS WAS A BAD IDEA. A wonderful idea. The worst/best idea Noah had ever had. There would be histories dedicated to how fucking terrible this idea had been. But somehow Noah couldn't find an ounce of regret to spare.

  West had stripped out of his clothes like it was a challenge, eyes staring daggers at Noah and that vicious little frown curving his mouth. It was the one that said he was in control of everything. He was. In every way that mattered, West controlled him. All it would take was a word and Noah would have dropped to his knees. But the only thing that dropped was West's shirt. And then his jeans. A road map of lines ran around his waist and down his hips from where the denim had pressed into the flesh, but they would plump out before Noah ever got around to taking pictures. If they didn't, he'd work around it.

  Noah started collecting his supplies. The flesh toned briefs landed at his feet.

  "How's this?"

  Noah turned back and almost swallowed his tongue.

  Nudity was a commonplace thing. After the fifteenth figure drawing model it had stopped fazing him completely. It wasn't even sexy. Skin was skin. Breasts and dicks were just shapes, no different than hands or feet. The sizes varied, the colors, the exact dimensions and angles, but at their heart they were all the same. They were lines to be recreated on paper or canvas.

  But West naked in his studio with his chin lifted so proudly? This was different.

  His thighs were firm with muscle and he stood with one hip jutting out, feet planted and immovable. Arms folded. He hadn't even tried to cover himself. Their eyes met. A blush crept up West's chest and the vee of dark hair that arrowed down his abdomen finally ended in something besides the feel of warm flesh in Noah's palm and on his tongue. Noah hadn't gotten the full view the other day. They were too busy fumbling and groping and then coming for that. It was a revelation to see him again. To see... everything. Now. In the brilliant sunlight streaming in the window.

  Having West, naked and proud, was like standing before a masterpiece. It was beauty. And for today it was all his.

  Noah wanted to worship him with everything he possessed. His eyes and his camera would have to do.

  "Perfect. You look perfect."

  West said nothing, but his posture relaxed a fraction.

  Noah cleared his throat. There was time for staring later. He'd be doing nothing but staring, tempting himself over and over again, during the shoot. He'd spent hours sketching out what he wanted to try this time.

  West looked good in rope. That went without saying. He looked good in everything. Those preppy pants with the creases down the front. In jeans. Sprawled beneath him on the floor with his fly open and Noah's hand on his dick. That was the best view so far. But rope was quickly becoming Noah's second favorite. Today's shoot was dedicated to that.

  One perfect shot was all he needed. With West looking the way he did today that should be easy.

  West took the sketches from him, looking them over with fire kindling in his eyes. He nodded. "Let's do it."

  Their eyes caught. West didn't smile—he smiled so rarely—but there was trust in his eyes.

  West made him feel like he could do anything. Even when they were arguing. Even when he scowled at Noah and called him an asshole. There was comfort in knowing he wouldn't hold back judgment, in knowing it wasn't an act, that he wanted it as much as Noah did. They were partners. He couldn't remember ever having that before. Now he just had to keep it. Stop thinking. Just do. No more voices whispering in his ear. No more second thoughts.

  "Let's do it," Noah echoed.

  West held out both wrists to accept the rope before he was told. Noah stifled a groan and got to work.

  The first ropes wrapped West's shoulders and down each arm separately before joining to coil around his wrists, the long end cupped between his palms. This tie was artistic instead of restrictive, but coupled with the rest it would form a tangled web. Beautiful as much as it was harrowing.

  Noah hadn't accounted for how distracting it would be having West this close again and holding back. He was hyperaware of every place they touched. Flashes of West on the floor beneath him—moaning—mingling with the daylight angle of his shoulder blades. His fingers tingled with the memory of warm, slick skin. Noah cleared his throat. Focus.

  "You still good, sweetheart? Tell me if anything isn't sitting right or putting pressure where it shouldn't." The last thing he wanted to do was hurt West.

  "I will."

  West's eyes were still lowered, dark lashes sweeping his cheeks. Projecting stillness. The angle of shadow cast by his nose and chin so perfect it should be captured in oils. Noah liked it better in flesh though. Flesh was warm and responsive.

  Noah unraveled another coil of rope and began the next set of ties.

  West's skin heated beneath his touch. A flush sat high on his cheekbones and Noah itched to run a thumb over that swipe of color, to taste it with his tongue. West might be open to it, but that wasn't what they were here for. He couldn't. Not even when he noticed West's quiet panting and how it matched his own.

  Noah kept his eyes on the rope in his hands. Over and under. Coiled and wrapped and knotted. In between each pass, he checked his pocket for the scissors just in case he needed to release something quickly. But West was fine. Better than fine.

  His posture was one of comfort, eyes lowered as he watched Noah work. He didn't speak except to answer Noah's questions. Yes, he was fine. Yes, it was comfortable. No, he didn't need anything.

  Noah hadn't seen him so relaxed except for that night. Spilled on the floor like moonlight.

  A whine curled its way up his throat and Noah held it in by sheer force of will. He'd seen West's body before. The knobby ridge of West's long spine and the mauve of his nipples, all of it framed by a long length of rope. Different in this context. Untouchable even though he was touching.

  Forbidden fruit, Margot had called it. It had never been more apt than right now as Noah bit his own lip to keep from biting West's.

  He'd worked with other models. Models he was friends with. Models he had kissed. Models he had fucked against the wall afterwards. It hadn't been like this. Maybe he was different or maybe it was West. Maybe the two of them together were a chemical reaction different from anything else he'd ever seen, terrifying in its possibilities.

  WEST GRUNTED SOFTLY.

  Noah was in front of him immediately, kneeling at eye level. "Too tight?"

  The ropes were wrapped and knotted over West's upper body, taut lines against his back, his biceps pinned to his sides. His hands had been bound before him first and each new hank of rope limited his range of movement a little more until—if Noah's sketches were to be believed—his legs would be the last thing tied. He'd be nearly immobile. They hadn't done that before. He kept wondering if it would feel the same as having his wrists bound. Would it bring the same tension of comfort and excitement? All these new sensations felt even more acute after the last session. And after. When he'd—

  Better not think about that. Not now when he was a bundle of nerve endings strung between ropes and the smile tugging at Noah's lips. He could still remember how that smile felt pressed into his skin.

  West shrugged his shoulders, experiencing the pull as he rocked on the stool where he'd perched for Noah's ministrations. "Feels fine. Feels good actually."

  He shook his head. His hair brushed his neck and he fought down a shiver. After he had finished stripping, he'd freed his hair from the tie that held it back. It was the first time he'd done it without Noah having to ask.

  "I knew you had it in you." A hand stroked Wes
t's back.

  Another coil of rope wound around him. More knots pressed into his skin. Each one felt like a promise.

  Noah hummed to himself as he worked, something soft and soothing, his lips occasionally forming the words to go with the tune. West had removed his glasses a long time ago so Noah moved in and out of clarity, only adding to the dreamlike quality. Did Noah realize how much he wanted to lean into each of those careful touches? Probably. He knew too much already. But West didn't mind as much as he had.

  "Almost there," Noah whispered, fingertips skating down West's biceps and to his waist, lighting fires everywhere they went. "Let's get you on the floor so we can do finish this up."

  West stood unsteadily. He felt lightheaded. Noah's arms came around him. His breath tickled against West's bare shoulder. His hands were firm on his waist as he eased West onto his knees and then to sitting, helping him make up for his bound arms.

  "Thank you."

  Noah was still half crouched from helping him to the floor and one of his hands cupped West's elbow. The other had found its way to his neck. It slid up until it cradled his cheek instead. It was how they might pause before a kiss, drawing out that breath before their mouths came together.

  West waited. That was the thing about being wrapped in multiple coils of rope. He could lean forward. Lips parted in invitation. But he was otherwise reliant on where Noah put him. That helplessness was part of what he loved about it.

  Noah leaned a little closer. His hand moved from West's elbow to brush back the hair that had fallen over West's forehead. "You look like you're waiting for a kiss," he said in a low voice.

  "I am."

  A chuckle brushed his open mouth instead. "Good. Keep that feeling for the shoot."

  If he was more dramatic, West might have growled in frustration. He frowned instead.

  Noah shifted West so his legs were partially extended and reached for the next length of rope. Before beginning, he rested his hands on West's shins, warming the skin. He met West's eye. "I told you I would be professional about this and I meant it. But if you're serious about that kiss, there will be one waiting for you after the shoot. And whenever else you want one." He nodded at the final rope, a question in his eyes.

  West nodded back. "What if I want more?"

  "Like?"

  Words filled West's mouth so full he couldn't separate them out. He looked down. Ropes crisscrossed his body. Goosebumps lined his arms from the chill and from the sensation. He didn't feel all that much more exposed than when he'd been wearing the briefs. If anything, he felt less. There was no tug of fabric to remind him of how much skin he was showing. Just openness. And Noah's hands on his ankles, already working on the final knots.

  West let himself sink a little deeper.

  WEST RECLINED ON THE floor, hair splayed over the white drop cloth, blindfolded with gauze this time. White paint streaked down his cheek and chest before it was obscured by his bound arms. Noah had looped the trailing end of the ropes over a pole for the illusion of tension holding him there. Noah could have looked at him that way all day. West drew his legs up, all shyness suddenly, as though he hadn't done this before. Like he hadn't been sitting with his bare ass on display for half an hour while Noah wrapped him in rope. It was that mix of boldness and insecurity that made him so hard to look away from. The way West could challenge him and plead with him in the same breath. The dichotomy was stunning.

  Noah nudged him in the side with one toe. "Legs down."

  West glared at him—even with the blindfold it was still obvious by the way his eyebrows pulled down—but did as he was asked. Displaying himself. He arched his back a little more when Noah asked. Struggled when he was asked, head tossing like the torment was real. Mouth open in silent cries. His covered eyes hid tragedy. Noah had had his doubts about the blindfold at first, but it worked. When they couldn't see each other it made it feel more real. They were only the sound of Noah's voice and the lines of West's body, not separated anymore. A creature made of pieces. Greater than the sum of its origins.

  When Noah ran out of angles and words, he set down the camera. Their breath came in time. The same pulse beat between them.

  "Shit, you were perfect." He knelt to pull the blindfold free. It had begun to slip, tangling in West's hair and exposing the arch of one brow.

  West blinked in the sudden rush of light. He smiled up at him. "You'd be lost without me?"

  "So lost." Noah started on the first lengths of rope, working the knots loose and massaging the blood back into West's newly freed legs before he began on the chest ropes. Some of the wraps had shifted while they were shooting, leaving behind a new map of ridges and lines on West's skin. He ran a finger along them. "I should get the rest of these off you."

  "Or you could leave them." West's voice was husky. He leaned in the same way he had earlier, but this time his mouth found Noah's. Just barely. It was only a soft brush of lips, but Noah was caught. West didn't need his hands to hold him. "And fuck me like this."

  "You sure?"

  West claimed his mouth again. This kiss was full of edges. Teeth sank into Noah's lip and tugged. His groan filled Noah's mouth as he wriggled closer, his weight heavy as he tipped into Noah's body, cock nudging his thigh.

  "I want it."

  WARNING SOUNDED IN West's head, but it kept getting smaller and smaller. He was already Noah's. Body and breath.

  Every word during the shoot had been a seduction and now West was falling. He needed to be touched and he wanted it just like this. He needed to know what it felt like to come with Noah wrapped around every inch of him.

  He leaned forward so far that he overbalanced, but Noah caught him, just like he'd known he would. His hands were hot enough to burn. Noah trailed a gentle finger along the upper edge of the ropes, riding the ridge of shoulder and collar bone before moving down. The touch slid over arms and chest and nudged against ropes until every crisscrossing line was a direct connection to pleasure. West writhed in the beautiful frustration that he couldn't touch back. He wanted to be denied. Noah bit his neck and soothed it with a kiss and he had to take it. He moved and he was pulled back. He arched and Noah held him down. Struggling only made him want it more.

  "You know how hard it was tying you up and not taking a taste? It was torture."

  "Good."

  Noah let out a startled laugh. "You're vicious." He pulled West's mouth to his, tongue tracing the seam of his lips until they opened to him. "And so fucking hot."

  "I can get hotter."

  "Yeah?"

  "Fuck me again and find out. I need it. I need you. Just like this." Each plea came out in between panting breaths as Noah's hand found his cock. He already knew from experience how good Noah could make it feel but this time he wanted more. He wanted to know what Noah sounded like when he unraveled. "Come with me."

  Noah dragged West into his lap and kissed him, one hand tangled in his hair, and didn't let go until he was breathless. The other ran over muscle still bound tight by rope. Controlled. When his fingers traced the cleft of his ass West bucked, a strangled cry dragged out of him. He was so hungry he couldn't breathe. He wanted more. He ground against Noah's stomach.

  "Please." It came out a whine. So unlike him. Or maybe more like him than he'd ever been. "Please."

  He rolled his hips again, desperately, seeking more of that friction. Noah wrapped the free end of the rope around his fist and held him in place. He lined West's straining neck with kisses. Bit his earlobe. "You okay, sweetheart?"

  "Don't let go. Don't let me go."

  "Never."

  He melted into Noah's touch, one hand keeping him still and the other hand around his cock making him want to move even more. A wordless litany of moans fell from his lips. Promises. He would have promised anything just to make it last longer, go harder. He needed more. Noah stroked them both together, biting at the pulse throbbing beneath West's skin. And every time he got close, Noah paused, a small, dark smile on his lips and a wicked brightn
ess in his eyes as West screamed in frustration. He clawed at him with hands that refused to do what he wanted, arms that were trapped.

  "Not yet, sweetheart. I haven't seen everything yet. I need you to show me one more time."

  It was exquisite torture as he fell apart again and again until he was made out of pleas. Begging for release. Begging Noah not to let him. Begging until he was hoarse.

  And when they came, their cries were like music as they unraveled together.

  THEY LAY TANGLED ON the floor as was becoming their habit, the sun dropping in the sky faster than West could track. Between one blink and the next it disappeared. Rose gold sunset was left behind. He ran a finger lightly over the lines on his body, testing each for the faint sting of rope burn. Those were his favorite. They lasted longer. He prodded at them again, finding a new tender spot on his left bicep.

  At his side, Noah chuckled. "What are you doing?"

  He'd thrown off his shirt before the second round and his jeans hung low on his hips, zipped but not buttoned. The trail of purpling marks that West had bitten into his skin zigzagged down his neck and chest before disappearing into the waistband.

  "Investigating."

  Noah didn't question further. He pressed his lips to West's shoulder as one arm snaked around his waist to pull him closer. The room was cooling, the heat of sex already fading inside as the light faded outside. Pretty soon the space heater wouldn't be able to keep up with it and West would be forced to redress and end this moment they were having.

  "Are we doing this again?" Noah's question hung in the air a long time. West could almost see it floating over them like letters written in the clouds.

  He didn't want to answer. To go into the whys and the whats. What was he doing? What did it mean? And what did 'again' mean for that matter? Was it once? Twice? How much would be enough? Was there ever going to be an enough?

  Instead of answering he rolled over and kissed Noah again.