Grace's Bookstore

Chapter 12

When Noah got home, Damien kissed him goodbye, lips falling squarely over his, tongues tangling. He slipped out of the car solemnly, shivered violently, stepped onto the curb, turned as he heard Damien's door open too. The dark-haired boy's eyes glittered, and Noah smirked through a violent shiver, bumps rising over his skin in the cold.

"One more kiss?" He asked, breath steaming in the air. Damien smiled back, slipped out of his black jacket, slid it over Noah's shoulders and arms. He zipped it up halfway, trapping heat inside.

"You're freezing." He said, voice as soft as a candlelit night. Noah went still.

"I'm-" fine. Lie. "It's a short walk." He replied, feeling tender but also uncomfortable again. He did not like to be doted on. "And I have a jacket."

"Noah." Damien said, rubbing the brunette's shoulders. His breath was minty, even though they'd both eaten their fill, bellies warm from a good meal, and swirled like a blizzard, wrapping around the brunette. "Just take the hoodie. I'll bring it home with me after dinner tonight."

Noah's lips pursed, eyes searching Damien's, before he sighed and rolled his eyes, deflating again into Damien's touch. "Alright. Fine."

"Good." Damien ruffled his curls, tipped his head down to kiss Noah's brow. "I'll see you later, ok?"

Noah smiled up at him, sighed, and set his forehead against Damien's chest. "I wish you didn't have to leave."

"Me too, mio caro."

"What does that mean?" Noah asked. Damien smirked.

"Look it up." Noah's smile fell and he slipped out of Damien's touch.

"Ha ha." He said sarcastically, stopped, smiled. "Alright. I have to go before my mother wakes up."

"Of course, mon amour." He replied. Noah shivered again, this time from the ease with which Damien switched between languages and accents, at the way the words dripped like honey from his throat, rolled off his tongue, and Noah gulped again. "I will see you later."

"Of course." Noah nodded, voice shaking with sorrow. He wanted Damien now, not tonight, not in, like, twelve hours. He gulped, smiled. "Mon amour."

"Yikes." Damien winced at Noah's horrendous accent. "Way to butcher a romance language."

"You know what?" Noah asked, stepping back. He stuck his tongue out, made Damien roll his eyes but smile. "Shut up."

"Goodbye, tesoro." He said gently, voice soft with warmth.

"Goodbye, mi vida." Noah replied and Damien gave a low throated growl, rolling his tongue and smirking. Noah giggled and it tasted like champagne, not separation.

He climbed the stairs as Damien drove off and, silently, ever so silently, as careful as the lightest deer, spooking at the slightest crunch of leaves, Noah slipped back into his apartment. He crept past his mother's room, pausing only briefly to listen, rapt, for any sound of movement. Nothing.

He whispered a prayer of some kind, thankful, so incredibly thankful to whatever had decreed he be saved from her wrath, and he slipped back into his shared room and, never having been this thankful for Luka's deafness before, shimmied out of his coat and into bed. He pulled Damien's hoodie back on, reveling in the ways it smelled of him, and he pulled the warmth of the covers up to his chin before giving out an involuntary wiggle of both cold and excitement.

He slowly let out a breath, tasting Damien in his mouth, smelling him on his skin, all but feeling the warmth of his touch, and let his fingers trail over the smooth lines of his neck that Damien had kissed with a reverence Noah had never seen anyone show before. It was if he was a statue and Damien was a sculptor, crafting him from clay, breathing life into his form, forming something marvelous, something that was his.