Frequencies of Us Chapter 60: Screens and a Scream

Noah POV

I’m sitting in my room, laptop open, fingers tapping fast. Mateo’s next to me, close, his knee brushing mine under the desk. My heart’s beating quick, loud in my chest, and I feel warm, restless with him here. I hacked Ortiz’s emails last night, found stuff about Caleb, and now I’m showing Mateo. The screen glows, words popping up, and I lean closer, pointing. “Look at this,” I say, voice low, excited.

He nods, eyes on the screen, and our knees press tighter. Heat climbs up my leg, fast, and my stomach flips, wanting him bad. I scroll down, showing him the money—$500 to Caleb—and his breath catches, quick and sharp. “That bastard,” he mutters, and I feel his anger, hot next to me. My hand shakes a little, brushing his thigh, and I can’t focus anymore—just feel him, so close.

I turn my head, slow, and kiss his jaw, soft at first, teasing with my lips. He freezes, then groans, low, and my chest tightens, heat rushing through me. I kiss again, harder, sucking his skin, and he grabs my shirt, pulling me closer. “Noah,” he says, voice rough, and I climb over, straddling him in the chair. My dick’s hard already, pressing against my jeans, and I grind down, feeling him through his shorts.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I gasp, kissing his mouth, deep and wet. My tongue slides in, tasting him, and he moans, loud, hands gripping my hips. I rock against him, slow, then faster, heat building quick. He yanks my shirt off, tossing it, and runs his hands up my back, fingers digging in. I tug his shorts down, fast, and his dick springs out, thick and ready. My mouth waters, and I stroke it, tight, loving how he bucks into my hand.

I pull my jeans off, clumsy, and sit back on him, naked now, my dick rubbing his. He groans again, head tipping back, and I spit in my hand, slicking us up. I lift up, line him up, and slide down, taking him in, deep and hard. He fills me, hot and tight, and I moan, loud, starting to ride him. My hands grip his shoulders, nails biting, and I bounce, fast, his dick slamming up into me. “Mateo,” I pant, voice breaking, and he thrusts, meeting me, rough and wild.

His hands grab my ass, squeezing hard, and I ride faster, heat exploding in my gut. The chair creaks, loud, shaking under us, and I don’t care—just want him, all of him. I lean down, kiss his neck, sucking wet, and he groans, “Fuck, Noah,” voice hoarse. My dick bounces, leaking, and he grabs it, pumping quick, matching my rhythm. I feel him tense, dick pulsing inside me, and he cums, hot and thick, filling me up. It pushes me over, and I cum too, spilling over his hand, moaning loud, body shaking.

We’re panting, stuck together, my chest pressed to his. I kiss him slow, soft, lips shaky, and he smiles, small, warm. My heart feels big, full, like he’s everything I need. I rest my head on his shoulder, breathing him in, and whisper, “Love you.” He squeezes my hand, tight, and my chest skips, happy, safe for a second.

But then I look back at the screen, emails still open, and my stomach twists, cold hitting fast. I scroll down, slow, and see it—an email from Ortiz, short, mean. “Pics of them are ready,” it says, and my heart stops, ice running through me. Pics of them? Us? Me and Mateo? My hands shake, sweat breaking out, and I grab Mateo’s arm, showing him. “What’s this?” I ask, voice high, scared.

He reads it, face going hard, and says, “Fuck.” My chest tightens, panic clawing up, and I feel sick, like the walls are closing in. Are we caught? Did someone see us? My head spins, fast, and I think about yesterday—behind the gym, Ryan watching. “They know,” I say, quiet, and Mateo’s fists clench, mad, scared too. I want to hold him, fix it, but my hands tremble, stuck, fear choking me.

Then my phone buzzes, loud on the desk, and I jump, heart slamming. I grab it, fast, and see a text from Jamie. My ex. “Hey, miss you. Can we talk?” it says, and my stomach drops, guilt mixing with panic. Mateo looks over, sees the name, and his jaw tightens, eyes narrowing. “Who’s that?” he asks, voice low, sharp, and I feel his jealousy, hot and heavy. “Nobody,” I say, quick, but he pulls away, standing up, mad now.

“Doesn’t look like nobody,” he says, pacing, and my chest hurts, stuck between him and this mess. I stand too, grab his arm, say, “It’s just Jamie. Old stuff.” He glares, breathing hard, and I feel him slipping, trust shaking. “You texting him?” he asks, and I shake my head, fast, scared he’ll think wrong. “No, I swear,” I say, but he looks away, fists tight, and my heart sinks, cold and heavy.

I try to pull him back, needing him close, but my phone buzzes again, sharp and loud. My hands shake, picking it up, and it’s Jamie again. “I’m outside,” the text says, and my breath catches, fast, panic hitting harder. Outside? Here? Now? I look at Mateo, his back to me, and my chest locks up, fear slamming in. “Mateo,” I say, voice cracking, and he turns, eyes hard, waiting.

Then the doorbell rings, loud and sudden, cutting through the room. My heart jumps, pounding wild, and I freeze, staring at the door. Jamie’s here, right now, and Mateo’s watching me, mad, hurt, ready to snap. My legs shake, stuck, and I hear footsteps outside, close, too close. “Who’s that?” Mateo asks, voice low, dangerous, and I can’t answer—just feel the emails, the pics, and Jamie crashing in, about to break us apart.