Page 58 of Unfinished Noise

And Jamie wasn’t letting him out of his sight again tonight.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jamie

Spencer walked back into the hotel room with Jamie right beside him, still riding the high from the club and the way it was to have his boy close again after that stupid day apart. He yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it on the chair, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Gotta shower alone, baby,” he said, glancing at Jamie. “Sweated way too much out there.”

Jamie nodded, not making a big deal out of it, giving Spencer that familiar look he always did—soft around the edges, patient, like he already knew everything was fine.

Spencer stepped into the bathroom, cranked the water hot, and stripped the rest of the way down. Steam filled the room as he stepped under the spray, letting the heat pound against his shoulders and back. He looked like he was starting to relax when the door clicked open again. Jamie slipped in behind him, completely naked, a little grin on his face.

Spencer laughed, the sound bouncing off the tiles. “Couldn’t stay away, huh? I like that you followed me in.”

They stood close under the water, passing the soap back and forth between them. Spencer’s hands were slick with lather, and he moved them over his chest in slow circles. A thumb brushed his nipple, and he sucked in a breath. Spencer’s palms slid down his sides, crossed his stomach, and mapped him out inch by inch. Everywhere Spencer touched, it sent waves of heat to Jamie’s skin, warmer than the water had any right to explain. He leaned in without meaning to, chasing the contact.

His own hands found Spencer’s back. He liked the shape of it—the ridge of muscle along the spine, the way it flexed under his palms. He worked the soap into a lather and dragged his fingers down, slow and deliberate. Spencer’s breath caught, the way Jamie’s had. Then around to the chest, the stomach, steady strokes that weren’t in any hurry to be anywhere else.

Spencer’s smile never faded. The relaxed look on his face made Jamie think he liked every slow pass of his hands. After a minute, he set the soap on the ledge and pressed Jamie back against the cool tile wall. He kissed him hard, one hand gripping Jamie’s hip while the other slid up to cup the back of his neck. “Love you so much,” he murmured against Jamie’s mouth, voice rough. “You’re everything to me. My sweet boy. Don’t ever want to be apart like that again.”

Jamie melted into him. Spencer lined up and pushed inside with one slow, steady thrust. Jamie gasped as the stretch settled into a steady fullness. Spencer stayed close, hips flush against him, breathing hard against his neck.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” Spencer groaned, kissing along Jamie’s jaw. “Can’t get enough of you. Gonna keep you right here with me, always.”

They moved together under the water, Spencer thrusting slow and deep, each push drawing a soft sound from Jamie. “You’re mine, baby,” he whispered between kisses. “My good boy. Love how you take me. Love how you came after me even when I told you not to.”

Jamie clung to him, fingers digging into Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer never hurried, moving with slow, steady strokes that made Jamie wonder if he wanted the moment to last forever.

Jamie’s cock was trapped between their bodies, hard and leaking against his stomach with every thrust. Spencer reached down and wrapped his hand around it, stroking in time with his hips. “Come for me, baby,” he breathed. “Wanna feel you.”

Jamie did just that, body tightening around Spencer as he spilled between them. Spencer groaned low and followed right after, burying himself deep as he came inside Jamie, holding him tight through every pulse. They stayed pressed together under the water, breathing hard, Spencer’s forehead resting against his own.

After a minute, Spencer pulled out gently and helped Jamie rinse off, hands moving slowly and carefully over his skin. They stepped out together, drying each other with the big towels, trading soft kisses and quiet smiles the whole time. Once they were dry, Spencer pulled Jamie into bed and wrapped his arms around him from behind. Jamie fit perfectly against is chest, warm and relaxed.

Spencer kissed the back of his neck, voice soft. “Night, baby. Love you.”

They drifted off just like that—warm, tangled, Spencer’s arm draped over Jamie’s waist, the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s breathing lulling him through the night. The room had been quiet then, dim and soft, a stillness that made Jamie feel safe enough to sleep.

Morning came with a different stillness.

Light pushed through the thin hotel curtains in pale stripes, landing across the carpet and at the foot of the bed. Somewhere down the hallway, a housekeeping cart rattled by, the wheels squeaking in a way Jamie couldn’t tune out. The room had reset itself cooler while they slept.

Jamie woke up with too much energy in his limbs, the kind that made his legs twitch under the blankets. The room was quiet—too quiet—and the silence pressed against him like something he needed to move through. He slipped out of Spencer’s arms carefully, trying not to disturb him, and got dressed fast: jeans, a hoodie, sneakers. By the time he finished tying the last lace, his fingers wouldn’t stay still, tapping against his thigh as if they were impatient for the day to start.

He couldn’t sit. Couldn’t lie back down. His whole body wanted motion, as if he needed to push against the stillness or it would swallow him whole.

Whatever the reason, he was fully awake, fully dressed, and already halfway to the door in his head.

So, he paced.

Back and forth across the room, ten minutes straight, the restless loop he fell into when his thoughts were louder than the surrounding silence. He kept glancing at the door as if the day were waiting on the other side, tapping his foot impatiently.

He couldn’t figure out the reason for his anxiety. Maybe because yesterday had been heavy. Maybe because Spencer had looked exhausted before they fell asleep. Maybe because Jamie hated stillness when he didn’t know what came next.

Spencer finally stirred, turning toward him with a slow blink, hair messy and eyes half‑closed.

And Jamie stopped pacing. The morning shifted again—less buzzing, more grounded—but that itch under his skin remained, the one that said: Let’s do something today.

Spencer’s eyes were heavy, the slow blink Jamie recognized from mornings when Spencer hadn’t slept. Even the way he sat up—shoulders loose, movements a beat behind—told Jamie everything he needed to know. Jamie didn’t have to label it. Spencer’s tiredness was right there in the quiet between them.