Chapter 22

5' 8"-5' 9"

Erotic art? What did he mean by 'erotic'? Did he mean erotic, like, actually erotic? 'Erotic' like in the word 'erotica'? No way!

Noah was sweating and almost cried out in shame. Now he understood why his will to help made Ethan look confused a little. Morgan could've as well suggested Thomson practice French kissing. 'Do you what? Do you like kissing, and do you train on mannequins? How can you possibly learn how to kiss without kissing for real? Feel free to experiment with me. On the contrary, I, unlike the mannequins, have a tongue. I'm all yours!' 

Jesus Christ, what a nightmare!

No-no-no, Noah was just whipping up tension. These were just ropes. Just knots. Who cares how these actions could be interpreted by other people. For Noah, it was something like stretching his muscles. Physical activity. That's all! His sexual organs didn't participate in this activity, which meant that there was nothing intimate about it. However, there was a smell of citrus and lavender coming from the ropes. He could smell the silicone gloves. He could also smell a vague smell of Ethan's perfume… All this weird mixture of smells was enveiling Noah, making his feelings even keener. Was there anything intimate about it? Of course, not. Morgan could feel every movement of Ethan's fingers, even though he didn't touch him, being focused only on the ropes. He felt the warmth of Ethan's body. He could feel the strength that Ethan used while knotting the ropes. He felt his breath on the back of his neck, despite Ethan's mask. Noah was writhing with these feelings and emotions so much like his nerves were fully exposed. What was the reason for that? Was it because of the tension from the ropes in his hands? Or from Ethan's quiet voice? His discreet odor? Or the silence surrounding them? 

Who was Noah trying to fool?! It was incredibly intimate! DAMN INTIMATE! And Thomson, damn him, was talking about the details of his hobby like there was nothing special about it. Okay, Noah let (asked) him to bind himself due to his own ignorance; however, Ethan knew what was about to go on from the beginning. Then what the hell?! Why couldn't he say something like, 'I'm sorry, but I bind only those people I have a crush on.'? Or was he really ready to make a bondage with anyone who'd ask? No, Ethan was way too discreet. So, it means that he couldn't use just anybody. Could it mean that Thomson liked…

Noah's head was killing him because of all these assumptions. 

Don't you dare to mistake the wish for reality!

It was easier said than done. What was Noah supposed to do if he had already mistaken everything in his head? He had already believed that Ethan liked him; he had already created their mutual future together, where they, of course, would've lived happily ever after. THOMSON WASN'T EVEN GAY! Probably. Most likely. Definitely! 'Devil's Eye' should've hinted to Noah about Ethan's orientation the day they met. Unfortunately, Morgan was concentrating on other things that day. 

Ethan's voice sounded calm. Noah would've thought that it meant nothing to Thomson, and he wasn't into it if the ropes hadn't been shaking because of his hands. 

He likes me.

Probably Ethan's hands were shaking due to the tension. Anyway, he had to pull the rope well enough, so Thomson had to use physical power for that. 

Or he likes me.

His muscles became sore almost immediately. Ethan was still in the process of a bondage, while Morgan's shoulders and shoulder blades were already aching from tension. When Thomson had finally taken a picture of his artwork, a tingly feeling reached his elbows. However, it was the least important thing at that moment. Ethan's voice was humming in Noah's ears, talking about trust and helplessness, one person dominating the other. There was something spicy about it. However, Noah still couldn't understand why he was supposed to sit still like that for fifteen minutes. Why did Thomson have to dominate over Noah he also couldn't get. 

Ethan went towards the desk that was standing on the right side of the bed, put his camera and photos on it, and then grabbed the back of the chair and started dragging it across the room towards Noah. It was unlikely that this chair was so heavy that Ethan couldn't lift it. No. He was doing it on purpose, making as much noise as he could, so that confused Noah would be concentrated only on him. Like somebody could have thought that Morgan's attention wasn't fully Ethan's… He didn't have to make noises to get what he wanted. He didn't have to tie Noah up, either. Or even invite him into Ethan's room. Morgan had already been hanging on to Thomson's every word, whether he wanted it or not.

Ethan put the chair almost right against Noah's knees, facing the back of the chair towards him. Then he sat down on the chair backwards, leaning his elbows against the back of the chair. The direct look of his dark-gray eyes made Morgan shiver a little. As soon as Noah tried to change the position of his body a little, the answer was a long, painful tightening. He should've warmed up his muscles better. It would also be nice to train his flexibility in the future. 

In the future? Like Noah was about to become Ethan's full-time model. Ha-ha.

"Fifteen minutes," Thomson muttered, doing something on his phone and then showing the screen where he had set up the timer. So, the time that Ethan used to walk around the room and move the furniture, he decided not to count. What a wise one. 

Ethan threw the phone on the bed, giving Morgan the opportunity to watch the timer together with him. 

"Okay," Noah shrugged his shoulders, like he didn't care about the time at all and could sit like that even for twenty or thirty minutes. It wasn't true, of course. His muscles were aching badly, his hands were getting even more numb, and the tension in the ropes was rising. Still, the bondage couldn't be compared with Ethan's eyes, staring directly at Noah. Noah was shy to look people directly in the eye, even the closest ones, like Andrea or Scott; he could only glance at them from time to time. He once read an article that said that if a person couldn't look directly in the eye – it was a sign of falsehood or that the person was hiding something. Noah wasn't hiding anything, or, at least, he believed he wasn't. Also, he definitely wasn't lying. He was just…shy. 

On the contrary, Ethan knew nothing about being shy; he wasn't afraid to be misunderstood, and he didn't care what others would think about him. Suddenly, Noah thought that Thomson was one of the most carefree people that he had ever met. He was free from society, but he was imprisoned and stigmatized by himself. 

"C-could you stop looking at me?" Noah couldn't handle it any longer. Thomson's eyes were giving way more pressure than ropes. 

"Does it bother you?" 

He should've answered 'yes', but Noah hated lying, even about the little things, so he told the truth. 

"It makes me feel embarrassed." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know. It just makes me feel that way, that's all."

"That's not all," Thomson disagreed, ignoring Noah's request. Apparently, he stopped blinking at all and probably decided to burn a hole through Morgan. 

"Many people feel embarrassed under direct look," Noah tried to justify himself, knowing well that Ethan would definitely find some argument against him and use it. 

"No," well, just as he thought, "the majority of people think of direct eye contact as a sign of danger. Others get pissed off. It's really difficult to make a person embarrassed just by looking at them if there are no other factors." 

What the hell were these factors? Was Ethan hinting at something?! 

Noah felt his heart jump. He felt nasty goosebumps on his skin. 

Does he know? Does he know about Noah's feelings for him? What is he trying to do? Does he want a confession? Why? Is it mutual? Is he mocking him? Or does he mean something completely opposite? 

Noah would've grabbed his head and groaned out of despair, but the ropes on his hands reminded him that he wasn't even capable of doing that at the moment. Surprisingly, Morgan started getting a feeling that he couldn't move even a single part of his body, even though his movements were scarcely limited. However, the poisonous mix of ropes and disarming looks almost nailed Morgan to the bed, not letting him breathe normally. 

"So what are these factors?" Noah asked, surprised by how low his voice sounded. 

Ethan shrugged his shoulders carelessly. 

"There're many of them," he answered, and Noah could swear that Ethan was smiling. You could tell it by his eyes. 

Why the hell are you smiling?!

Noah was getting angrier and angrier. 

"For example, insecurities," Ethan suddenly gave the most unexpected answer. 

"Are you trying to say that I'm insecure?" Noah asked grimly. When Noah wasn't in the mood, he could even fight sometimes. (Even for some dumb reasons. He could, but he usually never did it).

"Why am I trying? I'm telling you that." 

"That's not true." 

"Said the guy who couldn't even take his t-shirt off in front of me," Ethan smirked. 

'That's because I like you, idiot!' Noah was about to cry out. Wait a second... Could it be one of the factors Ethan had mentioned? If so, then... It's so complicated!

"I don't like being naked in front of strangers," Noah replied insinuatingly. The word stranger definitely didn't satisfy Thomson's ears. He frowned a little, but decided not to say anything about it. 

"Okay," he nodded instead of arguing, "Then tell me, what do you like about yourself?" 

Noah fidgeted nervously on the bed. The mattress underneath was perfectly soft and didn't even make a single noise. Unlike Morgan's bed, which would constantly creak like an old wagon. 

"I won't be bragging about myself," he decided to parry a question. 

"Why bragging? I want to hear a normal answer to a normal question. You'd be surprised, but it's okay to say nice things about yourself," Ethan said. 

"Is it? Then show me an example. I'll answer if you answer. What do you like about yourself?" Noah asked, sure that Ethan would also try to parry a question or change the subject. He hoped for the second option. 

"Everything," Ethan didn't even blink, "I like the natural color of my hair," he grabbed his thick, light hair and played with it a little. "I like my eyes and my face in general. I know I'm quite handsome," he grabbed a corner of his mask and shifted it from his nose to the chin, "Looking alright, don't you think?" 

Noah swallowed nervously, regretting that he had asked this question. He should've already gotten used to the fact that any Morgan's attempt to mock Ethan could be used against him later. 

Looking alright? It's an understatement! 

"I like my body. But I like my hands the most," Ethan reached his hands out, showing them to Noah. Usually, it was an impossible mission to guess Thomson's figure under all of his oversized hoodies. Especially if you wanted to see his veiny hands and shoulders. Noah was truly happy that he had already had this opportunity more than once. They were indeed beautiful. "I also like my skin tone and the shape of my nails. I like my teeth, after all," Ethan pulled the corner of his mouth a little and tapped his canine tooth with his finger, "My mom used to call me a wolf cub when I was a kid." 

How sweet. 

"Anyway, I'm perfect," Ethan said seriously. 

Noah almost choked on air after this bold claim. 

"Wow, you're so self-entitled," he said almost admiringly. 

"No, you didn't understand," Ethan said, shaking his head, "I'm ideal for myself. I can't say for sure that I'm perfect for others. I don't need it." 

"But it's a lie," Noah decided to oppose after thinking for a minute, "The day I met you... I saw... You're not perfect for your— 

Ethan told Noah to shut up with a gesture. He was drumming his fingers on the back of the chair, thinking about something. His eyes looked dead for a second, like this body in front of Noah was just a vessel, while Ethan's consciousness happily flew away to conquer parallel universes. 

"I've got my reasons," he answered after being silent for a while, "I've made a mistake. Several mistakes. I do have enough negative emotions toward myself. But these emotions are caused by the things I've done, not by how I look. That's why I like everything about myself. It's my body, and it's the only one I've got," he explained. 

"So… What did you have to do to start hating yourself like that?" Noah asked carefully. Ethan tilted his head to the side, continuing to stare at Morgan, almost not blinking. 

"It's a secret," he said coldly, "It's not what we're talking about right now," Thomson noticed. "I've answered your question. Now it's your turn. What do you like about yourself?" 

Noah frowned, trying to come up with the answer. Now, of all times, he couldn't come up with anything. Was there really nothing Noah liked about himself? It was not much of a discovery. 

"Maybe your eyes," Ethan decided to give him a hint, "They're beautiful." 

"They're basic," Noah said before he even could think. 

"Your figure? Aristocratic elegance." 

"I'm thin as a rail." 

"Your fingers of a pianist? They're unproportionally long. It looks beautiful."

"These are just spider legs." 

"Your long eyelashes." 

"Who even cares about eyelashes?" 

"I do," Ethan said, narrowing his eyes. 

"Don't be silly," Noah smirked, suddenly holding his breath. 

"So, instead of accepting compliments, you're opposing them, aren't you? Interesting. Could you explain, please, what's the point of doing it?" 

Compliments? Noah thought Ethan was mocking him again. 

"I…I don't want to disappoint anyone," Morgan gave, as he thought, a palatable answer. 

"Who would be disappointed if you admitted that you were handsome?" Thomson smirked.

"You're lying! I'm not a—

"Why do you think so?"

Because, God damn it, I look in the mirror once in a while! 

"Jesus, what the hell are we even doing?" Noah got angry. 

"We're talking." 

"About what?" 

"About you." 

"I…" Morgan stuttered, "I don't want to talk about myself." 

"Would you rather talk about me?" 

Noah would actually prefer that, but he was too scared to admit it. Morgan was afraid to even think about the way he looked right now, considering how scarlet his cheeks were. His face was probably burning. 

"Let's change the subject." Noah suggested. 

"I don't want to change the subject," Ethan frowned, "I want to talk about you." 

How stubborn Ethan was! Did he really enjoy making Noah feel more and more embarrassed? Did he do it on purpose? 

"Okay, do you want to know what I like about myself, huh?" Noah asked angrily. "My legs. They're skinny and long. I've got some damn nice legs!" he stated, not trying to hide his irritation. 

"Hm…" Ethan finally stopped examining Noah's face and moved his eyes to his knees. "Indeed. Your legs are fine, too." 

"Are you playing with me or something?!" Morgan was pissed off. What the hell was going on here?! 

"Why? I'm just stating a fact," Thomson answered with a poker face. "Interesting, do you think I can wrap my arm around your thigh?" Ethan asked, putting a thumb and a middle finger together, creating a circle. 

Of course, you can't. Noah wasn't that skinny. Probably.

"Go and give it a try if you're so interested," Noah said, looking at Thomson from under his eyebrows. Did Ethan think that he was the only person who could make provocative jokes? Get in the line!

Thomson frowned. 

"What? You're wearing gloves. I'm wearing jeans. You don't think bacteria could have a chance with so many barriers, do you?" 

Noah deliberately didn't specify where this mythical bacteria could come from. 

Ethan was still frowning. 

"Are you chicken or something?" Noah took a final headshot. 

Ethan definitely hated being unable to do something. Even considering his problem. 

"Don't you dare," Thomson snorted almost childishly. Even his cold mind could be taken away by emotions. 

Thomson jumped from his chair and turned it around toward Noah. Then he sat down on it again and folded his arms on his chest, like he was emphasizing who was in charge in the room. Such a behavior made already angry Noah react like a bull would react to a red rag. 

"If you think you can evaluate the width of my thigh with the power of your mind, I'm telling you you won't make it." 

Ethan's eyes glared, looking mad not only because somebody had accused him of his own weakness but also because he was planning to lead their little game. Noah was the one on hostile turf with his hands tied behind his back. He was supposed to be the one to surrender. 

Screw you.

5' 3"

Ethan assured himself again that the innocent little lamb named Noah Morgan wasn't innocent at all. He shouldn't have let him be tied. At least, not now, without an introductory course about how he should behave and which emotions to feel because of his behavior. Hypothetically. Well, and, of course, they should've become closer first. Way closer than they were right now. 

Ethan was worried that he would go too far and scare Morgan. Then he, after getting carried away, indeed went too far, not even noticing how their conversation moved straight to the pointed, ambiguous phrases. However, Morgan wasn't scared. He played the same card. He played on Ethan's pride easily and almost put him in a tight spot. 

Do you want to play a game of who is more provocative, Morgan? Watch out not to feel sorry afterwards. 

Ethan spread out the fingers of his right hand and stared at his palm. The black elastic gloves fit the hand perfectly, guaranteeing good sensibility. And Morgan was right; besides gloves, there was also jeans fabric. Ethan thought this kind of touching was acceptable. However, after even thinking of touching someone voluntarily, Thomson felt a bit nauseous. When was the last time he touched a person outside of a fight? 

A long time ago. 

A long, long time ago. 

So, now this opportunity was causing both a feeling of anticipation and almost bodily fear at the same time. What if this action boosted Ethan's memory and took out those memories that he had been trying to forget for all these years? 

On the other hand… Morgan was acting surprisingly audaciously, so he needed to be reminded where his position actually was. 

After stumbling a little over it, Ethan pressed his fingers against Morgan's knee and felt itching after a touch that lasted more than a couple of seconds. There was also a long-forgotten feeling of warmth from another body. However, Ethan couldn't say with no hesitation that the last point wasn't his fantasy. 

Morgan was trying to act like he didn't care. However, his face became scarlet, like the whole amount of blood moved in his cheeks. Observing his reactions was truly satisfying, even though Ethan was hoping for other things at the beginning. He couldn't say what he had actually hoped for, but he thought Noah would've been shaking in front of Ethan like a little lamb would in front of a wolf. Of course, this could've been an interesting experience. However, the process Ethan was going through right now was far more intriguing. Why would he even think, in the first place, that Morgan was weaker than him? Even though their way of thinking, reactions, and principles did show how different they were, it meant nothing about their strength and showed nothing about who was stronger. 

Thomson ran his hand over Noah's thigh and deliberately slowly grabbed his leg on the outside. A little pressure was enough to feel Morgan's shiver slightly. Also, Noah, who had been watching Ethan's hand before, was now looking at his other knee with a blank stare.

'He's trying to abstract himself from it,' Ethan guessed, glancing at Noah's zipper. 'It's making him horny.' 

Thomson ran his other hand from Noah's knee to the upper part of his inner thigh, stopping only a couple of inches away from his groin. 

"How are your hands?" Ethan asked calmly, like there was nothing weird going on in his room. 

"I…Ugh…" Noah didn't expect a dialogue, "Oh…I can't feel them." 

"Move your fingers," Ethan said, tightening his thumbs and placing the rest of his fingers underneath Noah's leg, trying to lock them together as well. 

"I don't know how to describe my feelings," Morgan mumbled, looking almost in opposite directions from Ethan. "My fingers are numb." 

"And ropes? How do they feel?" 

"They're squeezing me." 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Hm… Not really. I think. It's hard to tell, everything's numb. I think I'm just tired of them." 

Ethan felt his fingertips touch each other under Noah's leg, making the circle complete. 

"Aha! And you told me I couldn't," Ethan chuckled, even though he wasn't sure he would be able to make it. 

Morgan, who was looking in any possible direction and not at Thomson, suddenly turned around and stared at his hands. 

"No way!" 

"Anyway, it's true," Ethan clenched his fingers a little so that Noah could feel them wrapping his leg. 

"Your hands… They're bigger than they seemed before," Noah suddenly burst. Ethan was on the verge of saying that not only his hands were bigger than they could seem in the beginning. 

"I have wide palms," he explained, instead of saying another provocative thing. "Well, these legs were meant to be tied up," he said, measuring them with his hands. How long would the rope need to be to make a bondage? Should he take a thicker rope? 

"Ah…Ugh… M-m-m…" Noah answered eloquently. He was about to mumble something else, but then he flinched and looked at the door, "Did you hear that?" 

Ethan did. He heard a quiet noise coming from downstairs. 

"No, I didn't," Ethan lied. 

"I think somebody's in the house." 

"Maybe," Thomson shrugged his shoulders carelessly. 

"Un-untie me," Noah suddenly demanded. Ethan, however, instead of rushing to set Noah free, didn't even move. If his will had appeared because of the pain, then, of course, he would've rushed to set Morgan free from the ropes. Though it wasn't the reason why Noah reacted the way he did, that's why Thomson decided to take it easy. 

"One minute and thirty seconds left," he said, looking at the timer. 

"Screw the timer, let me go!" Noah was panicking. There was no wonder. You could hear footsteps approaching behind the door. 

"Deal is a deal." 

Not only didn't Ethan make Noah's wish come true, but he also didn't put his hands away from his thigh, continuing to squeeze it. 

"Ethan, for god's sake!" Noah hissed, trying to fidget on the bed awkwardly. 

"Ethan, are you home? May I come in?" his father's voice came from behind the door. 

"Yes, I'm home," Thomson answered calmly, looking at Noah's angry stare and not noticing his quiet cursing. "However…" Ethan didn't have time to finish when the door opened. His father was dying to tell him about something. Probably there was some story from the court, where he definitely was a star today. Though not a single word flew out of his mouth. The man froze on the doorstep. Noah froze, too. Ethan was the only one who moved, taking his hands off Morgan's leg and folding them on his chest. 

"I didn't have time to answer your second question," he noticed, frowning. 

"Oh, excuse me," his father apologized rapidly, "I guess…hm…I'll come in later." 

"Good idea," Ethan agreed. His father grabbed the door handle and rushed to close it behind his back. However, the smile that had beamed on his face the second before closing the door didn't go by unnoticed for Thomson. 

"Damn, Ethan!" Noah cried out in righteous anger, "Do you even understand what you are doing?!" 

"What's wrong?" Thomson sounded surprised, "Don't worry, I'll explain to my father that you were my model. If you're scared that he might think something bad about you, trust me, there'll be nothing to worry about." 

"Jesus," Noah sighed, "I thought you were a smart guy, but now you're just being dumb!" 

"I guess, because I really don't get—

"Just think," Noah mumbled, trying to flex his arms. He wanted to get rid of the ropes. However, there were still twenty seconds left. "He comes into your room and sees a guy sitting on your bed with his hands tied behind his back. While you're touching my thigh! Do you have any idea what he might think about?" 

"So what might he think about?" 

"He might think you're gay!" Noah flushed, having no clue why Ethan couldn't notice such an obvious thing. 

"Hm…" Thomson looked at the timer that was already going past fifteen minutes, "It's okay. He already knows that I prefer guys." 

5' 8"-5' 9"

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