They were both on the edge, Ford feeling like he was unbalanced and off-kilter. He needed something to hold on to, something to ground him. Ford felt him reach between them, lining the tip of Nash’s sheathed cock against his entrance, and then Nash was pushing in, steadily and evenly, until he was seated deep inside Ford’s body.
The storm inside Ford calmed, everything snapping into focus, his whole world centered on the feeling of fullness, of Nash inside him, stretching him and igniting the wave of heat that moved through him as Nash rocked his hips.
Ford had never felt so consumed by someone else. Nash thrust into him, gentle at first, then harder and more urgently. Over and over, pushing him higher. His whole body was tight with anticipation as he felt his orgasm building. It was there, right there, so close he could almost taste it. Nash was panting, his eyes locked on Ford’s, his eyebrows knit close.
When he kissed Ford again, that was it. He tipped right over the edge, pleasure crashing into him. Come shot between them, coating Ford’s belly, making Nash’s fist slip easier on his cock. Hips rolling, Nash thrust slower, letting Ford ride out his orgasm before he picked up the pace again.
Ford’s whole body was supersensitized, and every touch was borderline painful with how good it felt. Nash’s rhythm faltered, and he pushed deep, coming hard. He was so beautiful when he fell apart, and Ford was absolutely wrecked. He had never experienced anything so intense, so powerful.
Being with Nash would kill him.
Carefully, Nash pulled out and got up to dispose of the condom. Ford cleaned himself off with tissues from the bedside table, and Nash returned a moment later.
They lay there, the sweat cooling on their skin. Nash pulled Ford against him, nestling his head in the crook of his arm, his other hand drawing lazy circles around Ford’s belly.
As the minutes ticked by, Ford became more and more tense. He couldn’t stay there in the afterglow, relaxing as though letting himself get caught up in Nash had ever been a good idea. The more he thought about it, the quicker the panic bled in and locked him up.
“You should probably go,” Ford said, as gently as he could. He knew how shitty it felt to be kicked out of bed right after sex, but he couldn’t handle Nash staying the night with him. It was too much and too intimate. Yeah, he knew exactly how fucked up that was, but he couldn’t help the way he felt.
He tried to sit up, but Nash tightened his arms, nuzzling in close and kissing the back of his neck. “That’s so not happening. Just let me hold you awhile. Get some sleep.”
Ford pulled away and sat up, tugging the blankets up and around him. He felt awkward having this conversation while they were both still naked, but boundaries needed to be reinstated. He couldn’t believe he’d let things get that out of hand.
“This was a mistake, Nash. I can’t… I can’t do this.”
“There might be some gaps in my memory, but seems to me you were more than capable.”
“I’m being serious. We need to forget this ever happened.”
“That’s not going to be possible. The sounds you make when you come are pretty much seared into my brain.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Can you have an adult conversation with me for two seconds here? I am telling you that nothing else is going to happen between us. So this can be awkward, or we can pretend it never happened and go back to being friends.”
Nash dropped his smile, his expression transforming from teasing to serious in an instant. “All right, Ford. You want to have an adult conversation about feelings and shit? Here we go. I like you. More than I should. I think you’ve got a lot of bullshit swirling around in that head of yours. There’s some stuff you clearly need to work through.”
“Are you done?”
Nash crossed his arms over his chest. “Not even remotely. Fuck that guy for the shit he put you through, and I get that you’re scared—”
“I’m not scared,” Ford protested.
He was terrified.
“You’re scared absolutely shitless, baby. But I’m not him. I want to touch you and kiss you and fuck you and hold you when you sleep. I think you want that too. If you can tell me honestly that you don’t, then I’ll get out of this bed right now, get dressed, and we’ll play it like this never happened.”
Ford stared at him, floored that after one night of half-drunk sex, he was willing to put it all out there like that. Ford opened his mouth, ready to deny he wanted Nash at all, but he couldn’t force the words to come out. He knew that even if he did manage, Nash would know he was lying. He wasn’t capable of the conviction required to convince Nash, and himself, that he wanted to be alone.
When Ford didn’t speak, Nash reached over and took his hand, then lifted it to his mouth. He pressed gentle kisses against the pads of each of Ford’s fingertips before sliding Ford’s hand along his cheek and turning his head to kiss along the tender skin on the inside of his arm.
The feeling of Nash’s soft mouth and the scrape of his stubble on the sensitive area sent shivers through him, and because it felt so good and Nash had, with those tiny kisses, obliterated his resolve, he gave in.
Pushing his hand farther back, he tangled his fingers in Nash’s hair before tugging him forward. He covered Nash’s mouth with his own and sighed into the kiss, relief melding with need as he let Nash take over.
They moved together, bodies rocking against each other. They were both only half-hard, but as they kissed for what felt like hours, the urgency built again. Nash held him so tight there wasn’t a molecule of air between them, their erections sliding together until with a gasp, Ford came against Nash’s stomach.
Nash grunted, following right after him, kissing him hard.
Their kisses softened as they came down from their second orgasms of the night. Nash reached over and grabbed his T-shirt to clean the sticky mess between them before pulling Ford back against him.
Ford could barely form a coherent thought. His brain could be melting out his ears for all he knew, but he was warm and sated, and Nash felt so good, his strong arms wrapped tightly around him.
“Go to sleep, baby. We’ll go see Joel in the morning.”
Ford closed his eyes and wiggled in, feeling the gentle friction of Nash’s bare skin on his as he settled and gave in as sleep claimed him.
NASH WOKE
up feeling better than he had in a long time. When he opened his eyes, he’d half expected Ford to have snuck out, or at least moved to the other side of the bed during the night, but he was right there, tangled up in Nash’s arms, mouth open and snoring.
It felt like the whole world was quiet and peaceful outside, and they were safe and warm inside. Nash watched Ford’s eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. He was so goddamn beautiful, and he was so goddamn guarded. It was nice to see him like this—relaxed and content in sleep.
After learning about Provost, there were facets of Ford that fit into place. As it was, there were scars that had started healing, but Nash believed Ford was stronger than he thought, and the damage that had been done was something Ford could overcome.
Ford stirred next to him, and Nash couldn’t help the smile that slid into place, watching him wake up. His eyes fluttered open and focused on him for a moment before he wore a matching smile to Nash’s.
“Morning,” Nash said.
“Morning,” Ford echoed.
Nash shuffled forward and kissed the tip of Ford’s nose. “I’m going to make us something to eat. Any preference?”
“Waffles.”
“Waffles it is,” Nash replied.
Ford chuckled and pulled the blankets farther up as Nash got out of bed. “Unless you’ve learned how to do some Harry Potter shit, waffles ain’t happening. I doubt I have any of the ingredients, and I sure as shit do not own a waffle press… waffle iron… whatever it’s called.”
“Oh.”
“We don’t need to be at the hospital for another few hours. You wanna go out?” Ford asked.
Everything seemed so… okay. Nash was a little surprised Ford wasn’t freaking out harder than he was. He’d half assumed Ford would try kick him out of his apartment again that morning, so inviting him for breakfast was unexpected.
“Yeah, that sounds good, actually. Albert’s?”
Ford sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Greystones.”
“I’ve never been there.”
“They have the best waffles in the city, and their mimosas aren’t bad either.”
The conspiratorial smile made Nash think Ford likely went there more for the mimosas than he did the waffles, but who didn’t like a little champagne to start off the day. The fact that Ford wasn’t hightailing it for the hills after spending the night together was reason enough for Nash to want to celebrate.
THE RESTAURANT
was only a short drive from Ford’s place, which would have been even faster if they hadn’t had to walk back to Nash’s car, then take a detour to Nash’s for a change of clothes. Ford waited in the car when he dashed up to pull on the first outfit he could find. Feeling much less walk of shame and much fresher, Nash parked the car on the street in front and dumped a pocketful of change into the meter.
When they walked in, the hostess greeted them right away and showed them to a table in the corner against the window. The space was very open, painted in light colors, and had incredibly high ceilings. The wall behind the bar was constructed with what looked like large river rocks—after the name, Nash presumed. Tables were made from antique-looking wood, and mismatched chairs were clustered around each of them.
They slid into their places as she set their menus in front of them. It had started to drizzle, and water slid in rivulets down the glass. The day was dreary and gray, and Nash was happy to be inside with Ford.
The waiter appeared a few minutes later, hair piled on top of his head in a messy bun and a full beard covering his jaw. He looked like he belonged on a hipster runway somewhere rather than carrying plates of food in a restaurant. The man was gorgeous, and Nash saw Ford’s eyes following him as he approached.
“Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?” he asked, Ford’s appraising look returning.
Nash wanted to snap him in half.
“A mimosa for me,” Ford said.
“Coffee,” Nash grunted.
Ford glared at him.
“Please,” he amended.
“Coming right up,” the waiter said, turning and walking away.
“No one could have pissed in your cornflakes yet, because I know you haven’t eaten, so what the hell was that?” Ford asked.
“He was skeevy. I didn’t like the way he was staring at you.”
“You mean like he wanted to fuck me over the table?” Ford asked.
“Yeah. That.”
“He looks at everyone like that. He makes better tips that way. If you hadn’t gone all caveman on him, you’d have realized he was looking at you the exact same way.”
Nash turned his head and watched the waiter approaching a table of women. Ford was right. The guy was flirting shamelessly. Nash felt like an idiot.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You should be. And besides, if I wanted to fuck that waiter, I have every right to. You don’t own me.”
Ford’s eyes locked with his, the challenge clearly written there. Nash knew what he
wanted
to say, how he
wanted
to be with Ford, but after one night, and with someone as skittish, it was probably best to leave it unsaid.
It was far too soon to be making claims of any kind. Nash didn’t know if he’d ever get the opportunity, but if he was too overbearing, too forceful with what he wanted from Ford, chances were better than good that Ford would run so fast, he’d leave rubber tracks on the pavement.
Moments passed, and Ford’s eyes softened. “When I asked you up last night, I knew where it would lead. I asked you anyway. But I fully intended it to be a one-night thing.”
“And now?”
“I still don’t want a relationship,” Ford said.
“Okay, I get that.”
“Really?”
He asked as if he couldn’t believe Nash wasn’t going to push. And truthfully, a part of Nash wanted to push. He didn’t want Ford fucking around with other guys. He could be patient, though.
“Yeah. I understand you not wanting to dive into anything serious. But I like you. So if you want, let’s do casual. We can keep things light and see where it goes.”
“Okay.” Ford grinned at him, and Nash’s heart stuttered.
The waiter returned then with their drinks, and they both placed their orders. Nash made a point of being more polite.
Their food arrived more quickly than Nash had anticipated, but with such a small menu, he supposed it would be easier to have things up and ready to go. They both dug in, and Nash was happy to discover that Ford had been right about the waffles. They were amazing. He could have easily eaten nothing but those waffles for all three meals for a month.
“You weren’t lying,” Nash said, cutting another huge piece of waffle to shove into his mouth.
“Nope. Best in the city. Sam and I come here at least once a month for Sunday brunch, sometimes more if Adam’s shift rotation falls on a bunch of weekends.”
“I can see why.”
“He’s going to be jealous that I brought you here and he wasn’t invited.”
“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”
Ford cracked a smile. “Sure. Depending on what time the police are done talking to Joel, we should stop by his office and say hello. He usually has lunch around twelve thirty or so. I’ll run across the street and grab some Mexican from the food truck. It’s his favorite.”
“Sure, that’d be good.”
“Do you think the cops will be there long?” Ford asked.
“I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know if Joel will even talk to them. I think there’s a better chance of them being able to get some information from him if you’re there. He talked to you about it a little yesterday, and that’s really promising, but even when it was the three of us there, he seemed to get pretty upset. I don’t know the kid very well, but I think a room full of cops and social workers is going to be pretty overwhelming.”
“That’s true. I don’t know how to make it easier for him, though.”