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.
Lindsay nodded, his hair shifting limply under Noah’s hand. Noah ran his fingers through the fine strands and braided them into a silky rope, which he left draped over Lindsay’s shoulder while he went to work. He washed Lindsay from nape to hips, scrubbing away sweat and grime as he turned Lindsay’s skin rosy. The curves of Lindsay’s ass were a reward in and of themselves, though the fact that Noah was now dressed was a trial of sorts. Still, he soldiered on.
“Turn?” Noah rinsed out the cloth while Lindsay did, leaving it and picking up a fresh one to wash Lindsay’s face. That was purely indulgent of him, getting to wash Lindsay’s fine features and admire them all at the same time. He was careful around the scars on Lindsay’s throat and when he washed down Lindsay’s arms to his wrists.
Finally, Noah got to wash the smooth, flat planes of Lindsay’s chest and belly. As he got lower, he dropped to kneeling so he could reach Lindsay’s hips and thighs. He washed and explored Lindsay’s cock and balls with careful hands.