The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. If it feels personal… that’s between you and your conscience. Please don’t repost, reproduce, or do anything shady without permission—unless you're into cease and desist letters. Also: Save it. Like it. Comment on it. Send feedback, thoughts, corrections, compliments (especially compliments lmao). Seriously, I’ve been receiving a lot of love and it helps to motivate me! Yes, I read them.

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STICKY

Liam woke up to noise.

Sharp clinks. A cabinet shutting. Footsteps. In his kitchen.

He sat up fast, heart pounding. Reached under the bed. Grabbed the aluminum bat he kept there—because of course he had one.

In just his briefs and a sleep-creased t-shirt, he crept down the hall. Muscles tense. Eyes alert.

Another sound—water running. A pan clinking.

He gripped the bat tighter.

And then turned the corner into the kitchen—

“WHAT THE FU—”

Noah turned around, grinning like a cartoon. Shirtless. Holding a mug.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said. “do you know how to use that?”

Liam stared at him—absolutely fuming.

Still holding the bat like he wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream or a felony.

Noah’s grin widened. “Aww. You’re mad.”

“You broke into my house.”

“You were the one telling me to use the key under your cat planter.”

“IN AN EMERGENCY!!”

“Yeah, I was out of coffee.”

“You scared the shit out of me!”

Noah raised the mug in mock toast. “Happy birthday.”

Liam exhaled like someone had just let all the air out of him. Dropped the bat to the floor with a thunk.

“You’re lucky I didn’t swing.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t film it. You in your tighty-whities, holding a bat like a scared little girl? Would’ve gone viral.”

Liam stared.

“Anyway, here,” he said, nodding toward it. “Today’s shake.”

Liam blinked, then stepped closer, picking it up slowly. “You made it already?”

“Yeah,  birthday boy flavored.” Noah said, like it was obvious. “Had all the ingredients with me. Plus your stuff—milk, whey, the little gut-health powder you act like you don’t care about but never skip.”

Liam looked at him for a beat.

Then he turned and climbed back up the stairs, jaw a little tight, grip a little too firm on the shaker.

“…Cool.” he muttered, not looking back.

Noah yelled. Still smiling. “You know I made lunch plans, right?!”

A bit later, Liam came back downstairs, dressed now—jeans, hoodie, hair damp like he’d rinsed it quick but didn’t bother doing it right.

Noah was on the couch like nothing happened. One leg up, phone in hand, shirt still missing.

Liam crossed his arms, already sipping the shake Noah had made. “So. Lunch?

Noah didn’t look up. “Yeah.”

Liam swallowed a bit more. Nothing. “Where?”

“Some place with food.”

Liam took another sip. Narrowed his eyes. “You’re being sus.”

“I’m feeding you.”

“You made it sound like a hostage situation.”

Noah finally glanced up, unfazed. “Relax. Birthday lunch. On me.”

Liam blinked. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“…What if I already had plans?”

“You don’t.”

“I did.”

Noah raised a brow, unimpressed. “Oh yeah? Ian and Connor from work?”

“How did—”

“Do you know any other humans?” Noah shrugged.

“Well… they bailed anyway.”

Noah’s mouth twitched, just a bit. “Damn, on your birthday? Harsh.”

Liam shrugged. “It’s whatever.”

Noah stretched like a cat.

“Places don’t open for another hour,” he said. “We’ll chill here for a bit, then head out.”

Liam grunted, already grabbing his phone. “Sure.”

Noah disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom, humming something tuneless under his breath.

Liam scrolled. Sipped his coffee. Let his shoulders drop.

Then—

“LIAM!”

Liam blinked.

“…What?”

“Dude, come here!”

Liam sighed, and dragged himself down the hall. “What now?”

He stepped into the bathroom doorway.

Noah was standing in front of the toilet.

Still shirtless.

Still smug.

Still holding nothing.

Noah turned slightly. “I need your help.”

Liam squinted. “With what?”

Noah lifted his own hand. Still wrapped in that light medical cast, fingers stiff and braced.

Then he looked at Liam.

Then back at the toilet.

Liam’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Bro.”

“Noah—no.”

“I’m injured,” Noah said, like that settled it. “I can’t grip. You want me to just freeball and pray for aim?”

Liam backed up a step. “I keep telling you, you have two hands!”

“I’m a leftie, you know that. Please?”

“You want me to—”

“Just hold my dick while I piss.”

Liam stared at him like he was speaking another language.

“Dude. I saved your life. Hold my dick.”

Liam stared at him.

Noah stared back.

Still not touching himself. Still not backing down.

“You can’t keep saying that forever,” Liam muttered.

Noah blinked. “Why?”

“It’s been like… weeks.”

“Yeah. And you’re still breathing. So technically, yes I can.”

Liam groaned. Rubbed his face. “This is so fucked.”

But he stepped forward anyway. Resigned. Tense. Already regretting it.

With one quick, irritated motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Noah’s shorts and underwear—and yanked them down in one swift move.

Noah jolted. “Whoa! Okay! Easy.”

“What?”

“Those are vital organs, dude. Jesus.”

Liam glared at him. “You want this or not?”

He crouched besides Noah and grabbed his dick.

     Warm. Heavy. How the hell was it even that big soft?

Liam stared at the wall like a man enduring war crimes.

Then Noah relaxed, breath shifting—and started to pee.

And Liam could feel the faint pulse of it in his hand—those tiny vibrations through the shaft right before the stream hit. It was thick. Forceful. Loud. 

Noah exhaled, content. “You’ve got good form.”

“Shut up.”

Liam held on, rigid, focused, trying not to think about anything at all.

Except—

Noah shifted just a little. Adjusted his weight.

And the stream went rogue.

A big splash of piss flicked sideways—just enough to land across Liam’s cheeks.

Liam froze.

Noah laughed.

“Ohhh,” he said, voice way too pleased. “My bad.”

Liam turned to him slowly. Murder in his eyes. “You did that on purpose.”

“Never,” Noah said, grinning. “Accidents happen.”

Liam exhaled sharply and wiped his face with his free hand, dragging his palm down like he was trying to erase the situation from existence.

Then he looked down—at his own hand, still wrapped awkwardly around the base of Noah’s dick.

It twitched.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—stop that.”

“Dude,” Noah said, unbothered, “he has a mind of his own. You know how it is.”

“I don’t,” Liam muttered, eyes narrowing as he glanced again—then did a double take. “Wait. Are you—”

The stream was still going, steady. But Noah’s dick wasn’t soft anymore. Not fully, anyway. It was starting to thicken in his hand. Getting heavier. Slowly.

“Dude,” Liam said flatly. “You’re getting hard.”

Noah looked down like he was mildly curious. “Huh. Weird.”

Then, casually: “I have to change the angle if it’s not 100% soft. Wait—don’t move—”

Then—suddenly—the stream veered leftward.

Liam jerked back instinctively, but not fast enough. Another, much bigger, warm splash hit his cheek.

“Oh my fucking god—”

Noah flinched theatrically. “Bro! You shifted!”

“I didn’t move!”

“You pulled back! Look—your grip changed.” Noah sighed. “You got piss all over my leg, man!”

“I shifted because you started getting hard mid-piss!” Liam barked, wiping at his temple. “It got in my hair. Jesus.”

Noah looked down at his dick, then back at Liam, then sighed dramatically.

“Great. Now it’s hard,” he said, annoyed. “No way I’m pissinglike that. Thanks.”

Liam followed his gaze and saw it—Noah’s cock, no longer half-chub, now standing thick and stiff in his hand, curving slightly upward with a swollen head and a lazy vein pulsing along the side. Still slick from piss. Still in his fucking hand.

“Is this my fault?!”

“Yeah, well, you got me all worked up with your—” Noah made a vague gesture. “Touchy little fingers and murder-face.”

Liam groaned. “So what now? Can I get up?”

Noah raised his eyebrows. “Let’s go shower?” He motioned loosely at his own body. “Because of you I’ve got piss running down my legs. And since I clearly can’t finish at the toilet anymore…” He shrugged. “In the shower, angles aren’t a problem.”

Liam blinked. “Why do you need me in there with you?”

“I need to not be covered in piss, and you just got some of mine on your face—twice, might I remind you.” Noah gave him a slow, evil grin. “Unless that’s, like, your new thing.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“C’mon. You’re already gross. Might as well do damage control together. I can’t wash properly with one hand.”

Noah held up the cast on his left arm and gave Liam a deadpan look. “This is not waterproof.”

Liam scoffed. “Have you not been showering since you broke it?”

Noah shrugged. “I’ve been surviving. Sink acrobatics. But now? After you got my own piss on me? I think I deserve a full rinse.”

He could still smell it—Noah’s piss. On his arm, his jaw, in his hair. The faint edge that clung to his skin even through the embarrassment. So yeah. Fuck it. He had done worse.

Liam rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Fine. Whatever.”

He peeled off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower after Noah, keeping his gaze firmly up—anywhere but there. But the second the steam hit, he caught a glimpse.

Noah was still hard. And worse—so was he.

Noah noticed immediately, glancing down between them. But before he could speak, Liam snapped, “Don’t.”

Noah blinked. “Don’t what?”

“I can’t cum, alright? You said no. So what the hell did you expect?”

Noah raised both his hands in mock-surrender. “I didn’t say anything, bro.”

Then, “Ok. Start with the legs.”

Liam nodded, but before anything else, he ducked under the stream and tilted his head back, letting the hot water rinse through his hair. Scrubbing at his scalp like he was trying to erase Noah’s piss and maybe the last ten minutes of his life too.

Then, jaw tight, he crouched.

In front of Noah.

He lathered up his hands with body wash and reached for Noah’s leg.

But he started. Smooth motions, efficient. Down Noah’s calves, around the ankle, up the shin—and then back again. Quiet. Focused. Burning.

And above him, Noah was very much not helping.

Because every time Liam shifted, every time he moved a little higher or leaned to the side, Noah’s hard dick swayed. Heavy. Loose. Casual.

And it kept bumping into his face.

A soft tap to the cheek.

Then again. The other side.

Noah didn’t say a word.

Another bump. Slap. The head of it dragging right across Liam’s jaw as he leaned in.

Liam grit his teeth. “Are you—”

“Sorry,” Noah said, way too fast. “Gravity.”

“It’s slapping me in the face.”

“Maybe if I held onto something… it’d help with my balance.” Noah said thoughtfully.

Before Liam could ask what the hell that meant, Noah’s good hand dropped suddenly onto his shoulder.

Liam tensed—but didn’t pull away.

Noah’s fingers stayed there a second too long.

Then they slid.

Down. Slow. From shoulder to collarbone. From collarbone to chest.

They paused.

Right over Liam’s nipples.

Both of them

Liam’s breath hitched. 

He should’ve said something. Stop, maybe. Or what are you doing. But his mouth stayed shut. Not because he couldn’t speak—but because a part of him… anticipated it.

Because he knew what it would feel like. Especially being pent up.

Because Noah had been training him for this. Even if he didn’t know it.

The second Noah’s thumbs grazed his nipples—light, teasing pressure—Liam moaned. Loud. Uncontrolled. A sharp, wounded gasp that cracked right out of his throat. 

“Aaaah—hh—f-uhmmmmm—”

Noah tilted his head. “Whoa. You okay down there?” His casted hand awkward, but he made it work with his thumb.

Liam didn’t answer. His mouth opened—but nothing came out.

“What was that sound?” Noah asked, totally deadpan, fingers now circling with more pressure. “Are you in pain? Or was that like… something else?”

“Noah,” Liam finally rasped, barely audible, “you—”

But then Noah pinched. Lightly.

Faster now.

And whatever Liam had left in him—words, pride, resistence—short-circuited instantly. His back arched just a little. His knees wobbled.

“Nnnnnhhhhnnnh—uhhhhhhhhhnnnnh—” was all that came out. Pathetic, stuttering vowels, helpless and half-choked.

Noah leaned down a fraction, smirking like he didn’t know exactly what was happening.

“Your face looks dumb as fuck right now,” he said. “You good?”

Liam’s breath was ragged. His thighs were tense. His dick was throbbing. He tried to focus—tried to breathe—but his whole chest felt raw and lit up, like Noah’s hands had rewired him from the inside out.

Then suddenly—Noah stopped.

Just let go. No more touching. No more circling. Just the wet slap of water hitting tile.

Liam blinked up at him, dazed and panting.

Noah was staring at him. Serious now.

Then his gaze dropped—briefly—to Liam’s cock, hard and twitching. Then back up.

“You want me to touch your tits again?” he asked, voice lower now. Steady. Manly. Dominant.

Liam froze.

His jaw worked like he was trying to say no, to hold the line—but the words stuck. His eyes dropped. His whole chest rose and fell in these shallow, panicked breaths.

“I…” His voice cracked. “I—yeah.”

Noah didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Just nodded, like he’d been expecting that answer.

Noah reached for the showerhead, gave his cock a quick rinse under the stream, then stepped out.

“Dry off,” he said, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “Then lie down on your bed.”

Liam didn’t move at first. He was still catching his breath.

“Now.”

That snapped him into motion.

Liam rinsed quickly, still shaking, then grabbed a towel and followed him into the room. The second he hit the mattress, he hesitated—until Noah’s voice came again.

“Hands under your back,” Noah said. “Don’t move them.”

Liam blinked, breath caught in his throat—but obeyed. He slid his arms underneath him, palms pressed to the small of his back, spine arched slightly.

Noah climbed over his side, calm, deliberate.

Then he started playing with Liam’s tits.

Slow at first—tortuously—just the pads of his thumbs brushing over them, circling, teasing. Then a little firmer. A little meaner.

He pinched one lightly, and Liam gasped.

“Man….ffffuck…”

Noah smiled down at him, fingers still toying. “Feels good, little buddy?”

Liam’s back arched, chest pushing into his hands. “Yeah. It fucking does…”

Noah kept going, tweaking one and then the other, watching Liam squirm and bite back moans that kept leaking out anyway.

After a while, he stopped.

Liam let out a shaky breath, chest still rising fast.

“Chest down.”

Liam blinked. “Wha—”

“Chest down. Face in the pillow. Let me see your ass.”

Liam swallowed hard. The towel slipped lower around his hips.

He climbed onto the bed, hesitated—then obeyed.

Laid down flat. Arms at his sides. Face in the sheets.

Then, slowly… he reached back and pulled his cheeks apart.

He could hear the sound of Noah’s wet hand immediately.

Rhythmic. Messy.

Noah’s voice came again—calm, casual, and so, so nasty.

“Open wider. Show me your pussy”

“Dude… It’s not—”

“It’s just words, dude, just do it for fuck’s sake.”

Then he heard it—Noah’s footsteps crossing the room. The mattress dipped behind him. And a second later, he felt him.

Noah climbed up the bed, still jerking himself off, one hand braced on the sheets. His breathing was heavier now. Wet sounds filling the space between them.

Liam didn’t dare move.

Then—without warning—Noah dropped down.

Face-first.

Right between Liam’s spread cheeks.

Liam yelled into the pillow, whole body jolting forward as Noah buried his face in his ass, licking sloppily, hungrily, like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Ah—DUDE!” Liam gasped, voice high and breathless. “Oh my god— that’s—fuck, fuck—!”

Noah didn’t say a word. Just moaned low against him his asshole, tongue flattening and circling, spit dripping down Liam’s crack as he ate him out like he had something to prove.

It was messy. Wet.

Liam couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t stop pushing back. His hands were clenching the sheets, his cock rubbing against the mattress, leaking like crazy.

Then, just as suddenly, Noah pulled back.

Liam whimpered at the loss—but then stiffened.

Because he felt it.

Noah’s cock—hot, heavy—pressing into his ass crack.

Liam flinched. Tried to scramble forward.

“Hey, Noah—wait—” he panicked, pushing up onto his elbows.

But Noah was already on him.

One hand flat between his shoulder blades, pinning him down.

“Chill the fuck out,” Noah said, voice calm. Almost amused. “I’m not gonna fuck you. I’m not a fag.”

Liam blinked into the pillow, panting.

“I’m just having fun,” Noah murmured, rubbing his cock between Liam’s cheeks, slow and teasing. “That cool with you?”

Liam didn’t answer.

But he didn’t move either.

Just panted into the pillow while Noah rocked against him, slow and heavy.

Then—

Noah shifted his hips, adjusting the angle.

And the head of his cock pressed right against Liam’s hole.

Not pushing in.

Just resting there. Warm. Slick. Pulsing.

Liam gasped, legs twitching.

“Man…” he breathed, voice shaking.

“I said I’m not gonna fuck you,” Noah murmured, still calm. Still smug. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t play.”

Then he rolled his hips forward, slow and steady, dragging his cockhead right over Liam’s asshole—back and forth, letting it catch and slide—and on every slow thrust forward, the head of his cock pressed in just a little more. Not enough to enter, but enough to make Liam’s whole body tighten.

Liam moaned. 

“Uhhhnnn, bro—this feels weird—please—” But his ass was pushing back on instinct, hips twitching toward the pressure, breath catching every time Noah’s tip passed over his entrance.

Noah groaned behind him. Deep and raw.

“Shit, dude, you’re soft as fuck.” he muttered. “Your hole’s clenching. You feel that?”

Liam whimpered into the sheets. “I c-can’t—fuck—please—”

“Please what?” Noah chuckled, rocking again. Letting his cock nudge the soft ass lips with every grind. “You want more?”

Then—he pushed in.

Just a little.

The head slipped half in.

Liam screamed.

“AHHHH— WHAT THE—”

His whole body jolted in pain. Back arched. Hands clawing the sheets.

But just as quickly—Noah pulled back.

The tip slid free with a soft wet sound, leaving Liam trembling and panting.

“Whoa,” Noah said softly, breathless now. “Look at that.”

He backed up slightly, still on his knees—one hand wrapping back around his cock, stroking slow.

Liam was still face-down, hole twitching open like it was missing something.

Noah stared.

Then: “Spread it for me.”

Liam blinked, still recovering. “Huh?”

“Your pussy lips. C’mon, man. Open them up again.”

Liam let out a shaky sound—but he reached back with both hands, pulled himself open again. This was getting too weird.

Noah groaned hard, jerking faster now. “That’s so fucking hot,” he muttered. “Look at it. You’re not even touched and it’s already trying to pull me back in. It’s winking at me. It liked my cock.”

Liam moaned again—helpless, red-faced, hole exposed and aching. Noah’s words burning shame into him.

Noah just kept stroking.

Noah’s breathing grew heavier. His strokes got faster—wet and noisy and hungry.

“Don’t move your hands,” he said suddenly, voice sharp. Commanding.

Liam froze.

His arms were shaking, spread wide behind him, still holding himself open like some desperate offering. His hole twitched under the air, still slick from Noah’s spit, still aching where the head had gone halfway in.

“I said don’t fucking move.”

Liam swallowed hard and held. Even as his thighs trembled. Even as every part of him wanted to collapse.

He couldn’t see what Noah looked like behind him—but he could hear it. The sound of his fist working faster, the roughness of his breathing, the low, guttural groans climbing tighter in his chest.

Noah groaned above him, voice breathless. “That’s it. Fuck, just—just like that.”

Then his tone shifted—deeper, frantic, cruel.

“Open up more,” he panted. “C’mon, little buddy. More. Show it to me. It’s coming—open up, open up—”

Liam whimpered, eyes shut tight. His ass trembled under Noah’s voice.

“Imma nut in it—fuck—FUCKKK!!” Noah gasped, and then it hit. “AHHNNnnnnnn— UHHH”

Hot.

Sticky.

Outside.

Inside.

Noah came with a sharp gasp, and Liam felt the first two ropes of jizz hit inside his asshole. Warm. Then another at the rim. And another. Scalding splashes of jizz all over on the inside of his ass, dripping down between his cheeks, sliding right over his pulsing hole.

Liam’s mouth dropped open. 

His cock throbbed untouched.

He didn’t even dare to move. Just stayed there—face down, arms behind, ass open—used. Dripping.

Behind him, Noah let out a long breath. The kind people let out after stretching or finishing a workout.

“Yeah, dude. That was awesome.”

Then, casually:

“C’mon,” Noah said, already pulling his underwear back on one-handed. “We gotta go eat.”

Liam didn’t move. Didn’t even let go of his cheeks.

“Dude, move” Noah looked at him over his shoulder. “I’m starving. Also, no—you still can’t cum.”

Liam made a small sound. Something between a groan and a prayer for death. Then finally, exhausted, he started to push himself up.

He mumbled something, heading toward the bathroom.

But Noah stepped in front of him. Calm. Shirtless. Relaxed.

“Your clothes are right there on the floor.”

Liam blinked again, dazed. “I need to rinse.”

Noah squinted. “What are you talking about? We just showered.”

Liam looked down at himself. He was still sticky. He could feel Noah’s cum moving in and on him. His ass felt gross.

Noah just tilted his head. “Dude. Seriously. You’re gonna make us late. Get dressed.”

Liam stared at him. “But I have—”

“What?” Noah cut in smoothly. “You have what?”

Liam opened his mouth. Closed it again.

“…Nothing. Ok”

“Cool,” Noah said, stepping aside. “Then get dressed.”

Liam picked up his clothes from the floor in silence, slipping into them with slow, humiliated movements—his asscheeks still wet, his cock hard, his mouth dry.

And Noah?

Watched.

Leaning against the doorframe.

Smirking.

 

They walked.

Because of course Noah made them walk.

Liam hadn’t even argued—he just followed like a good little soldier, still sticky under his clothes, still sore, still leaking slightly every time his thighs shifted.

The air hit different. Everything did.

He could feel it. Noah’s cum—drying, slicking, sticking. On his back, in the waistband of his underwear, between his cheeks, on his hole. It itched, clung, reminded.

Every step felt like proof.

He was marked.

Noah had smiled the entire walk, like nothing had happened. Chatty. Light. 

Now they were eating.

Sitting at some casual lunch spot like any other Saturday, burgers in front of them, sunlight on the table. The street was busy. No one looking twice at them.

Liam was in pain.

Not even in a metaphorical way. His cock was still hard. It hadn’t fully gone down since the shower, and now that he’d calmed down a little, now that the shame was quieter—he realized he was unbelievably horny.

Every time he shifted in the booth, he felt the drag. The pressure. He clenched his thighs tighter.

Noah took a sip of his soda.

Liam cleared his throat. “Thanks, uh… for lunch.”

Noah glanced over. “Yeah, of course.”

Then, casually: “Hey, I know it’s on the way, but you mind stopping by my place real quick? Just wanna grab something before I leave you alone for your birthday.”

Liam blinked. “You’re going home?”

Noah nodded, biting into his burger. “Mmhmm. I got stuff to do. I’ll let you relax. Take the night off. Don’t jerk off though. That’d be cheating.”

Liam stared.

Noah smiled.

And chewed.

They finished eating and left. The sun was brutal.

The kind of heat that soaked through his shirt and clung to his back like punishment. Liam was already sweaty by the time they left the restaurant, but the walk to Noah’s place made everything worse.

So much worse.

Every step, every bead of sweat trickling down his spine, reminded him of what he was still carrying. Noah’s cum—now warm and half-dried—was melting again. Moving again. He could feel it shifting with the sweat, spreading lower, and there was nothing he could do about it.

By the time they reached Noah’s door, Liam was delirious.

Humiliated. Horny. Gross.

And done.

Noah looked over at him, keys in hand. Smiling.

“Alright,” he said, tone almost kind. “I think you’ve suffered enough.”

Liam blinked at him, heat haze blurring the edges of his vision.

“You can rinse off at my place,” Noah continued, unlocking the door. “Then you’re free to go.”

Liam exhaled. Something like relief almost touched him.

The door opened.

And a crowd of voices exploded.

“SURPRISEEEEEEE!!!”

Liam froze.

His stomach dropped. His heart stopped.

There were people.

So many people.

Gym friends. The guys from the cabin. Jules. Ashley. Claire. Some of Noah’s friends he barely knew but who definitely didn’t need to be in the same room as his still-slick asshole. 

Confetti popped somewhere. A balloon bounced off his shoulder. Smiles everywhere.

And Liam just stood there.

Leaking.

His hands still at his sides like a man who’d been shot.

Noah beamed beside him.

“Happy birthday, princess.”

His brain was fried. His heart pounded. 

But then—one by one—they came.

“Liam!” Jules swooped in hugging him with a wide grin, already dragging a guy behind her. “This is my boyfriend—Marco.” She gave Liam a look.

He stiffened—her arms pressed right against his lower back. Right where Noah had ejaculated on him. He prayed she didn’t notice. She just laughed and told him happy birthday.

Another guy gave him a bro hug, slapping his shoulder and jostling him with a “Damn, didn’t know it was your birthday, man!”

“Yeah,” Liam muttered, still half-zoned out, “surprise.”

That’s when he saw Ian and Connor—the two guys from work.

The ones who’d texted him that morning saying they “couldn’t make it” and “had plans.”

His chest tightened.

“Hey,” he blinked, genuinely surprised. “I thought you guys—”

“Oh, yeah,” Ian laughed, clapping him on the back. “Nah, we didn’t bail. Your friend Noah told us to pretend.”

Connor grinned. “He texted Ian yesterday. Said he was planning something and didn’t want you suspicious.”

Liam just stared at them.

Noah texted Ian?

Noah planned that, too?

He felt the weirdest mix of things: relief, gratitude, rage, affection, humiliation, confusion. All tangled together like wires sparking under his ribs.

He laughed once. Too loudly. “Right. Of course he did.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Dude, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Liam said quickly, smiling too hard. “Totally. Great. Just… fucking surprised.”

He moved through the crowd like a sleepwalker.

People kept coming—faces he recognized, some he didn’t, all of them saying “Happy birthday, man!” and “Didn’t know it was today!” and “Dude, this is sick!”

He smiled. He nodded. He said thanks at least a dozen times. Handshakes. Shoulder claps. Someone offered him a drink. Another shoved a party hat on his head.

A dude named John, compact and athletic with a sports-guy build that looked like it came from actual practice rather than posing, tapped him on the back.

It was all a blur.

A warm, confusing, slightly horrifying blur.

And then—

Claire.

She came up slow, grinning.

“Happy birthday, stranger,” she said.

Then leaned in.

And kissed him.

On the mouth.

Liam’s eyes went wide.

Her lips were soft. Her hand brushed his cheek.

It was quick. Chaste. Sweet.

But all he could think about was how gross he felt. 

Claire pulled back, smiling. “Are you okay?”

He blinked. “Yeah. I just… yeah.” He nodded once, swallowing. “I missed you. I thought you were traveling—but that was Noah too, wasn’t it?”

Claire gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah. He told me to say that. Said if I was around, you’d get suspicious.” She hesitated for a second, then added, “I can’t stay too long, though. A friend of mine asked for help with some family stuff.”

Liam nodded immediately. “Of course. I’m just happy you came.” He smiled—earnest, warm, no disappointment in sight. Just that quiet kind of appreciation that made people feel seen.

Liam stared at her for a beat. Then let out a breathless, almost-disbelieving laugh. “Noah really planned everything, huh?”

Claire bumped his shoulder with hers. “Guess he wanted to make sure you’d be shocked.”

He looked at her again—so familiar, so steady—and for a second, he felt something raw press against his ribs.

The party buzzed on behind him—music, laughter, the low hum of conversation. Liam saw Noah slipping away into the kitchen.

He followed.

Noah turned the second the door swung shut.

“You planned this?”

Noah blinked. “Sure did.”

“You planned this, and still—” Liam waved a hand helplessly at himself. “—did all that to me beforehand?!”

Noah leaned against the counter, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “Yup.”

“You came on me, dude! And then walked me into a room full of people.”

“Also in you.”

“You knew! You knew they were gonna be here!”

“Of course I knew.” He popped the can open. “The surprise wasn’t for me.”

Liam stared at him. His chest felt hot. His skin itched. His thighs were still tacky with Noah’s jizz under his jeans.

“You do this shit, you know.” he said. “One minute you're cumming on me, the next you're throwing me a surprise party.”

Noah stared. Didn’t reply.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing half the time. It’s like... we fuck around, yeah, it’s fun, whatever, bros hanging out and shit. You’re kind of an ass. But then—”

He shook his head, exhaled. Paused.

“…Nobody ever threw me a surprise party before.”

That last part came out quieter. He didn’t mean for it to.

Noah looked at him.

“Oh.”

Liam chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know it’s dumb. Just… means a lot. That you did this.”

Just for a second, something in Noah’s face shifted.

His mouth opened like he was about to say something real—but nothing came out. He looked away. 

He didn’t meet Liam’s eyes.

Just kept sipping his drink.

Then, after a beat:

“C’mon. We should get back out there. People are probably wondering if we’re making out in here.”

Noah pushed the kitchen door open, still wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and walked out like he owned the hallway.

Liam followed a second later, eyes still on him.

And then he walked straight into a wall of someone.

His shoulder hit solid muscle, and he instinctively stepped back. “Shit—sorry.”

The guy he bumped into barely moved. Just looked down at Liam, smiling warmly. “Nah, you’re good.”

Liam looked up—and then a little more.

     The guy was huge.

At least 6’5”, maybe more. Broad shoulders, long torso, lean but thick in a way that didn’t make sense. Wavy blond hair, square jaw, defined face. His body looked like it had never carried baby fat—not even once. T-shirt tight across the chest, clean-cut, posture easy.

He wasn’t trying to look intimidating.

If anything, there was something calm about him. Like he moved slowly on purpose. Like he didn’t need to take up space—he just happened to.

Noah came to a stop beside them, didn’t even look up.

Just said, deadpan, “Liam, this brick wall is my cousin.”

Of course they were related. 

The guy raised his hand with a lazy smile. “Hey. Good to meet you, Liam. I’m Dylan”

Liam shook it automatically. His hand disappeared in the other guy’s grip.

Before Liam could say anything else, Noah added flatly, “He’s a fag, by the way.”

Liam’s head snapped toward him. “Noah. Jesus. You cannot say that.”

The cousin just laughed, nudging Noah’s arm. “I’ve known him since he had braces. I’ve heard worse. Right, shorty?”

Noah didn’t even look at him. “Fuck off.”

The cousin grinned, stepping aside to let them pass. “He loves me. He just doesn’t process human emotion.”

Liam let out a short laugh before he could stop himself. “You got that right.”

He looked between them again—same bone structure, same mouth, same stupid perfect genetics—and shook his head.

“He’s like your final evolution.”

Noah turned to him, eyes dragging down lazily. “Hey, do you feel sticky anywhere?”

Liam blinked. “What?”

Noah squinted, tilted his head. “I dunno. I think I touched something sticky.”

His eyes flicked meaningfully down toward Liam’s jeans.

Liam shut up instantly, face flickering between panic and are you serious right now.

The cousin raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained but not clued in.

Noah took a sip of his beer, deadpan. “Hm. Weird.”

He let the silence stretch a beat, then looked over at Dylan like nothing had happened.

“Anyway—man, tell Liam a little bit about yourself. Dylan’s actually staying with us for a while.” Noah glanced back at Liam. “I think you guys have the same job or something?”

Dylan nodded. “Oh, yeah?”

Liam opened his mouth—but Noah reached forward mid-sentence and tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Wait—you’ve got something on you.”

“Uhh—”

Noah turned Liam smoothly by the torso, positioning him to face the wall. Just a normal bro adjustment. No one behind them. Just beer in Noah’s hand and chaos in his eyes.

Then, casually, he pressed his drink into Liam’s hands. “Hold this a sec.”

Liam took it without thinking.

Dylan kept talking. “I do mostly consulting now. Corporate ops, process stuff. Boring as hell unless you’re in it. You?”

Noah frowned suddenly, narrowing his eyes at Liam’s shirt.

“Yeah. You’ve got something here,” he muttered, brushing at Liam’s chest with his fingertips like he was flicking away crumbs.

He kept brushing.

Then pressing.

Then circling—slowly—right over Liam’s nipples through the fabric.

Liam stiffened. His jaw locked. His breathing caught in his throat, and for a second he looked like someone who’d just remembered a trauma mid-meeting.

Dylan tilted his head. “Liam?”

Liam coughed, voice strangled. “Y-yeah?”

Noah’s fingers moved again, pretending to smudge something like he was focused. 

He tapped Liam’s nipple lightly with his index finger, then dragged it slowly like he was trying to dislodge something microscopic.

“So, consulting too?” Dylan asked. “What’s your focus?”

Liam was holding the beer like it was stabilizing his entire life. “Uh… yeah. S- Ssstrategy mostly. Erhh— and operational—”

Noah was still brushing his chest like he was trying to clean off something that wasn’t there. His fingers moved in small, deliberate circles—right over Liam’s nipple.

      Press.
      Stroke.
      Flick.
      Repeat.

Liam’s voice broke halfway through the sentence, words getting caught in his throat. His mouth hung open a second too long, eyes fluttering once—twice.

Dylan nodded, still friendly. “Nice. Are you client-facing or more backend?”

“Ermmmm,” Liam gave a strained nod. “Back—Backend.”

His voice dipped near a whisper. His lips barely moved.

Noah’s knuckle grazed the same spot again. Harder this time. Cruel.

Liam’s eyes flicked downward, then sideways, chest tightening as his mouth opened—but no sound came out. His eyes pleading, he mouthed, just barely: “Noah—please.”

Noah didn’t stop. Didn’t flinch.

He just watched him.

          Smirking.

     Eyes locked on Liam’s face like he was cataloging every little stutter and twitch.

“And do you work solo or in a team, usually?” Dylan asked, still unfazed, looking around the room.

Liam’s breath hitched. He made a sound—half exhale, half moan—that came out too low to hide. His lashes trembled. He tried to speak.

Nothing.

Dead silence.

Noah turned his head slightly—still circling his nipple under the shirt—and said it out loud:

“Dude. Faggot asked you a question.”

Liam flinched.

His face was red, jaw clenched, beer still shaking slightly in his hand.

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t mean to interrogate you. You just look kinda tense...”

Noah shrugged, expression totally neutral. “He’s got a lot on his chest. With the surprise and all, you know?”

Liam looked like he was holding his entire soul together with duct tape.

But Dylan didn’t push. He gave Liam a kind smile, voice soft and easy. “Hey, no stress, man.”

He reached out, gave Liam a light tap on the arm—friendly, chill, like nothing was wrong. “I’m gonna go find the guys I came with. But we should network properly later, yeah?”

Liam nodded, still flushed, still barely breathing, still melting semi-discreetly. “Y–yeah. Definitelyyyyy—uhmmmm.”

“Cool.” Dylan smiled again—genuinely—and turned, heading back into the party with that effortless calm like he hadn’t just been three feet from a meltdown.

Dylan disappeared back into the crowd, his warm presence trailing behind him like nothing had happened. Liam stood frozen, still holding Noah’s beer, chest rising and falling in short, uneven breaths.

Noah finally took his hands back—slow, casual—and plucked the beer from Liam’s hand like he was just retrieving a borrowed remote.

He took a sip. Looked over.

“Cool dude, right? Slut though.”

Liam turned toward him, eyes wide. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Rude.”

“What if he noticed?” Liam hissed, voice low and panicked. “You were literally—you were—”

“I was what?” Noah blinked, fake-innocent.

“You were playing with—” He cut himself off, jaw locking.

Noah took another sip, unbothered. “Your tits? Yeah. I was.”

Liam looked around like the floor might open up and swallow him.

Noah leaned in, just enough for Liam to feel it. “Honestly? I think he probably noticed.”

Liam’s stomach sank. “You’re kidding.”

Noah shrugged, lips curling into something sharp. “You’re not exactly low-key about tit play, dude. You sounded like you were gonna cry.”

Liam stared at him, totally speechless.

He sipped. “We should mingle more. I think Jules, Marco, and the guys from the cabin are out in the yard.”

Liam exhaled. “Right. Okay.”

They walked out back into the yard—lit by hanging string lights and scattered with folding chairs and half-eaten snack plates. It smelled like grilled meat and beer and someone’s cheap cologne.

Jules and Vin were already arguing when they got there.

“I’m just saying,” Vin said, waving a tortilla chip like it was a mic, “you don’t actually like the game. You like the idea of it.”

Jules scoffed. “That’s rich coming from the guy who rage quit Twister.”

Marco laughed, half-choking on his drink. Cade clapped once, dramatic. “Man really kicked over the whole mat.”

Noah slid in beside them like he belonged there—which, of course, he did. “What’s he mad about now?”

Vin grinned. “Your boy here thinks Zelda isn’t a real RPG.”

“Because it’s not!” Jules shouted, exasperated. “It’s an adventure game!”

“Liam,” Marco cut in, spotting him, “you ever play games?”

“Uh—” Liam hesitated, caught in the headlights of a conversation already in motion. “I mean… yeah. A while ago.”

“Okay, but if it doesn’t have XP bars, it doesn’t count,” Cade said.

“Shut up, Cade,” Vin groaned.

“You guys are such losers,” Noah said, stealing a chip off someone’s plate, “anyway, you guys remember Liam.”

“From the cabin,” Jasper added. “You were shitfaced and angry about something.” He chuckled.

 

“Yeah!” Cade blinked. “foot rub guy.”

“God.” Liam mumbled.

“You guys good on food?” Jasper said, handing him a beer.

The group slipped into easy conversation. Beer passed around. Someone handed Liam a plate with grilled chicken skewers and tortilla chips. Jasper was trying to explain why he thought why some movie was overrated, Cade kept poking holes in it, and Marco kept cheering every time someone got roasted.

Eventually, Noah wandered off toward the edge of the yard, behind a wide row of thick, rectangular hedge shrubs—waist-high, maybe ten feet across.

Liam caught him glancing back once.

Then Noah called out—casual, loud enough for just Liam to hear:

“Yo, there’s a spider back here doing some sick shit. Come look at this.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, but curiosity tugged him forward. He walked around the side of the bushes, bent slightly to look—

     “Where?”

He heard Noah spit.

Then immediately—

Fingers.

Liam jolted like he'd been hit with a taser, eyes flying open. “Jesus—!” His hand flew to the hedge, gripping tight.

Two, maybe one at first—but wet, sudden, inside him.

“What the f—fuck.” he hissed.

“You think I’d call you over to show you a spider? What is this, middle school?” Noah’s voice was calm, low. “You knew this was gonna happen, this is on you.”

Liam whimpered, trying to breathe. The sounds of beer cans cracking and laughter from ten feet away made it worse—so much worse.

And Noah?

He was already working Liam’s intestines deeper, slow, deliberate, smirking.

Noah’s voice brushed against his ear. “Stand up. You’re gonna get us caught.”

Liam, still catching his breath, straightened up fast—too fast. His legs wobbled slightly like he’d stood after squatting too long, still casually bracing a hand on the hedge. Noah’s fingers gliding deeper by the second.

“Fuck, little buddy. Still can’t get over how soft you are inside.” He started pushing one more finger in.

Liam choked. “Duuude—stop this—”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Noah murmured, not even looking at him. His eyes were watching the people ahead of them, casual as anything, like they weren’t both tucked away like some deranged garden secret. “Stay quiet for me, yeah? You don’t want Jules thinking you’re weird.”

Liam shook his head desperately, lips sealed around a whimper.

“What do y—”

And then:

“Hey Jules,” Noah called out suddenly, bright and easy. Fingers in and out of Liam’s asshole, almost fully, “C’mere a sec—I gotta ask you something.”

Liam’s eyes snapped open.

“Oh—hey!” came her voice, light and casual, from the opposite side of the bushes. “Didn’t see you there.”

Noah chuckled, shifting slightly so that Liam was forced to adjust his stance—his thighs twitching with the effort not to buck. “I’m kind of hard to miss, Jules.”

He gave Liam a single slow push of his fingers, curled them and felt the boy’s breath falter.

“So,” Noah went on, like he wasn’t wrist-deep in a man’s unraveling, “that night at the cabin… everything okay with you and Marco?”

A pause. “Yeah, why?”

Noah pressed the fingers completely in and twisted just slightly. Liam’s eyes crossed.

He moaned—low, involuntary, broken. His teeth sank into his bottom lip right after, but it was too late.

Jules stopped mid-sentence.

“…Wait,” she said slowly. “Is Liam okay?”

Noah didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he said. “Stomach thing. Bad sushi or something. Ignore him”

      Liam’s face was red. His mouth open. He looked dazed. 

Jules frowned. “You sure?” she asked. “Liam?”

Noah played with the rim of his hole, flexing and Liam shuddered, eyes closing for a heartbeat too long.

“Mmhmmmm,” he managed to grunt. “Fine, y—yeahh.”

Noah smiled. Big. “Anyway, I thought Marco might’ve suspected something. You know, with what almost happened between us three.”

“Oh my God, Noah,” Jules laughed, voice moving a little closer to the bush. Liam’s eyes widened. “Okay but—get this—the weirdest thing happened.”

Noah took one finger out and circled Liam’s ass lips again.

“Mmh?” he hummed, lazy, like he wasn’t practically puppeteering Liam’s body.

“I had told Marco I was at my mom’s,” she said, voice musing, thoughtful. “But then—some restaurant near the cabin called him.”

Noah's lips twitched. “Did they now?”

“Yeah,” Jules said, “Fucking weird. They said I had ordered takeout that night, but I hadn’t. And they couldn’t reach me so they called him?”

Noah crooked his fingers. Full force inside. Liam’s back arched so hard he bit his own tongue to muffle the sound.

As she spoke, her eyes flicked upward—landing on Liam.  A quick, quiet look of concern.

“And did he buy your excuse?” Noah asked, cutting a quick look at Liam— a silent dude, get your shit together flaring in his eyes, sharp and grounding.

“Yeahhh,” Jules said, a little unsure. “I told him I fell asleep and you guys were in the shower or something.”

Noah let that hang in the air while he took out all his fingers and slowly pressed them in again circling around deep inside him, slow and maddening.

Jules kept talking. She hadn’t heard it. Or if she had, she filed it away under "weird Liam shit"—which was stacking— and just… kept going.

Liam made a low sound. Desperate. Faint. Like a man drowning quietly. Thank fuck she was drunk already.

He knew Jules was still talking—something about takeout, a lie she told, whatever. He wasn’t listening. Not really.

Still breathing through his nose, body trembling, not crying out, even as Noah’s fingers twisted harder, deeper, with the kind of ruthless tenderness that made Liam want to moan and disappear at the same time.

And Noah felt it—how tight Liam was clenching down, how badly his thighs shook, how desperate his whole body was to break.

He leaned in, close enough for his voice to be felt in Liam’s skin. Still pretending he was listening to Jules.

“Dude, I think I can feel my jizz from earlier. Like, inside you,” He whispered. Fingers moving from side to side now. “Can you fell it?”

Liam whimpered, eyes glassy, teeth clenched. He could, yes. Slickier, more lubed up.

“She’s right there,” Noah went on, slow, dirty, worshipful. “And you’re letting me do this to you. While she’s talking like nothing’s happening. Like your pussy isn’t spread open, dripping my cum on my fingers, and your little dick twitching.” 

He curled them again. Liam jerked.

     Jules was mid-sentence—something about how the guy at the restaurant had a weird accent—when a voice rang out from deeper in the yard.

“Jules! Food’s ready!”

“Oh—okay!” she called back, and turned slightly, footsteps shifting. “Be right there!”

Then, with one last glance toward the hedge, she added, “Talk to you later, guys!”

Leaves rustled. Her steps faded.

Noah’s hand stilled for the first time in minutes. His head tilted, listening like a predator clocking distance.

And then—
    

Noah turned to Liam.

“Do you have any idea,” He murmured. “how proud I was back there?”

Liam whimpered. “Wha—?”

“You stayed quiet like a good fucktoy. Didn’t squeal. Didn’t flinch. Let me fingerfuck you like a little hole in the dirt with people watching.”

Then, he glanced around—eyes scanning past the hedges, down the slope of the yard, toward the patio where the others had gathered. Laughter drifted faintly on the breeze. Plates clinked. No one was looking. No one was coming.

Noah grabbed Liam’s jaw, firm but calm, and turned his head until their eyes locked.

“Lie down,” he whispered. “Right here. On the grass.”

Liam obeyed without thinking. He needed more. His whole body moved like it wanted to be told what to do. Cock twitching visibly through his jeans—wet at the tip, soaked through. He’d been leaking for what felt like forever.

Noah guided him down with one steady hand, lowering him chest-first into the grass like it was a familiar ritual. Face to the ground.  Ass in the air. Exactly where he wanted him.

“Good,” Noah murmured, crouching behind him, hands slipping back between Liam’s thighs like he owned the space. “Now relax. No one’s looking.”

And then Noah really started playing with his hole. No more warm-up. No more softness. His fingers spread Liam open with slow, greedy purpose—pressing in knuckle-deep, then pulling back just enough to make him clench around nothing.

He spat once more into his hand, didn’t even bother to hide it, then shoved two fingers, then three, back inside his ass, rougher, faster, twisting like he wanted Liam to squirm.

“God,” he whispered, “you’re still so lubed up with my jizz. This is so fucking hot”

Liam moaned, high and relieved. It felt good, so good. His hips rocked back—he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even processing that he was on all fours, hidden behind a hedge, at his own fucking birthday party.

The world had narrowed to Noah’s hand, his voice, and the pressure on his hole. Everything else—his name, the guests, the cake—was just background noise to the way he was being used.

"Fffuck, Noah—wait—oh my god, that—"

Noah pressed deeper, everything back in, slow and agonizing, curling his fingers with the kind of patience that felt devotional.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “You earned this. You did so fucking well for me.”

Liam’s hands curled into the grass. His body pulsed with heat, tension melting away as Noah worked his ass.

Every time Liam whined, Noah whispered praise. Every time he gasped, Noah smiled.

"Shit, shit, it’s—this is feel so—fuckkkkkkkk—”

“Let it happen,” he said. “Let me make you feel good, baby. Just take it. That’s all you ever have to do. Give in.”

Liam’s face broke into a half-laugh, half-moan—pure joy. The kind of smile only Noah ever got to see.

      “God,” he muttered, wiping his fingers on Liam’s shirt like it was his, “you’re so fucking perfect when you’re mindfucked, little buddy.”

Noah worked him open. Two fingers, then three, everything deep, slick. Then one out. Circles around his hole. One. Two again. In and out. Again. Again.

"Fuuuckk, oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m gonna—I’m—duuuuudeee, I—"

 Until he noticed it.

     Liam’s hand.
                 Between his own thighs.
                 Rubbing. Desperate. Uncoordinated. 

“You touching yourself?” he said quietly, tilting his head like he couldn’t quite believe it.

Liam whimpered, caught, but didn’t stop.

     Noah pulled his fingers out.
                 All of them.
                 Abrupt. Cold.

Liam gasped, eyes wide, body clenching at the sudden loss.

“You think you’re allowed to cum from that?” Noah asked, voice low but sharp. “From rubbing your pathetic little dick in your jeans like a needy bitch?”

Liam’s mouth dropped open. “Jesus, man. Please. I need to—”

And then it hit him. He was on his knees. Behind a bush. Begging another dude to cum. His voice cracked as the heat in his chest twisted into something colder—shame. Humiliation. 

Noah stood, brushed the grass from his knees, and stepped away from the bush entirely.

“Come on,” he called back, his voice louder now, casual and cold. “Get it together.”

Liam blinked up at him, still on all fours, dazed, sweating, hard.

Noah looked down at him like he was barely worth the effort.

“You can cum how I say so,” he added. “Not humping your jeans like a fucking bitch in heat.”

Liam groaned under his breath as he pushed himself up, dragging his jeans back into place with shaky hands. The fabric rubbed against his hard-on, and he couldn’t stop the miserable little grunt that slipped out of him:

“Fuuuckkk… ughhh.”

Noah, standing above him now, folded his arms. “Well,” he said coolly, “you could always get me off. You like doing that.”

Liam didn’t answer.

Noah tilted his head, voice softening just enough to feel dangerous. “Don’t you?”

Still silence.

But Noah knew better—knew that if he asked again, it wouldn’t be a question anymore.

“You’re desperate, aren’t you?” he said. “You’re hard, aching, and you’ve been edged in public.”

Liam swallowed, jaw tight. “Okay,” he muttered finally. “But then I get to cum.”

Noah laughed once—short and cruel. “No.”

Another beat of silence.

“Do you want to get me off or not?”

Liam didn’t say yes. But he nodded. Slightly. Just enough.

Noah stepped closer, leaned in, brushed his lips near Liam’s ear. “Go interact,” he said. “Talk to people. Act normal. Then come to my room.”

And just like that—he walked off, disappearing back into the house.

Liam did exactly what he was told.

He slipped inside, still flushed and dazed, his cock twitching with every movement, asshole pulsing. He grabbed a soda, didn’t drink it. Stood near the kitchen. Nodded through three different conversations without hearing a word. A few people wished him happy birthday again. He smiled. It looked real.

At some point, Connor approached him. “Hey, can I use the bathroom upstairs? All the ones down here are full.”

“Huh? Yeah, whatever,” Liam said, barely listening.

Time blurred after that.

Eventually, he slipped up the stairs.
    

Heart hammering. Legs tense.
    

He reached Noah’s door.

Opened it.

And there he was.

Noah, on the bed. Fully clothed, except for his shorts pulled down. Shirt still on, one arm behind his head. His dick was rock hard, heavy, already leaking pre cum from the slit, and waiting.

He didn’t say anything.

Just looked at Liam with that calm, unbearable fucking smirk.

Noah didn’t move.

Didn’t stroke himself. Didn’t blink. Just watched Liam stand there, still fully clothed, staring at him like a deer about to get eaten politely.

“Strip,” Noah said, voice low but final. “All of it.”

Liam hesitated. “Does your door lock?”

Noah gave the tiniest smirk. “Yeah,” he said. “But I’m not gonna.”

Liam’s eyes squinted.

“You’re more eager when there’s risk,” Noah added, like it was just a fact. Like weather. “So go fast. People are gonna notice we’re gone.”

Liam grunted, somewhere between frustration and arousal. “Fuuuuck…”

Still—he obeyed. Yanked off his shirt, fumbled with his pants. Every movement was clumsy, rushed, flustered.

Noah watched him the whole time like he was being gifted something. Once Liam was completely naked, standing there hard, throbbing and exposed, Noah sat up a bit more in bed.

“I’ve got two more gifts for you,” he said, all gentle and fucked-up and full of smug affection. “Wanna know the first one?”

Liam nodded, cheeks already red.

“Come here,” Noah said. “Get in the bed. Peel my foreskin back and smell my cock.”

Liam looked down. “God.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Please. You love it. It’s your favorite thing in the world.”

Liam blinked. Speechless. Horrified. Hard as fuck. Leaking again.

“You’re sick,” he whispered.

Noah grinned. “You’re the one climbing into bed to sniff my cock.”

And Liam did.

Still muttering “Jesus Christ” under his breath, still frowning—

But crawling in next to Noah like a trained little perv, already reaching for him with trembling hands, already dragging his fingers down the length of his cock, already pushing the foreskin back like it was tradition. 

And when he leaned in?

When the raw scent of testosterone and wetness hit him?

He fucking shuddered.

Liam was breathing him in—slow, deep pulls through his nose like the scent itself did something chemical to his brain. Noah watched him with a crooked smirk.

“What is it about the smell, huh?” he asked, voice all syrupy condescension. “Gets your little brain all foggy? Can’t think straight with my big sweaty cock under your nose?”

Liam whimpered, still inhaling. His eyes fluttered closed as he dragged the scent in like oxygen, like it grounded him—one hand gripping Noah’s thigh, the other fisting the sheets. His lips brushed the slicked head, needy.

Noah didn’t wait.

“Go ahead, little buddy” he said. “All yours.”

Liam didn’t need to be told twice. He surged forward, lips wrapping around Noah’s cock, tongue already sliding along the underside like he’d missed it.

Noah exhaled slowly, like he’d just settled into something familiar. His hand reached down, slid across Liam’s chest—and then tweaked his nipple with his good hand, casually, like it was just a button he enjoyed pressing.

Liam was moaning already—soft, wet, helpless sounds vibrating around Noah’s dick. Bubbling up his saliva and Noah’s pre fuck. His hips kept shifting like he wanted to sink lower, bury his whole face in it. He took more and more, sloppily, spit gathering at the corners of his lips.

Noah looked down at him, smirking. “You’re drooling like a dog, you know that?”

Liam groaned in response, muffled but desperate.

He gave Liam’s nipple another slow, demeaning twist, watching the way his body twitched.

“Look at you,” he said, almost laughing. “This is exactly why you can’t cum.”

Liam moaned, broken and helpless, tongue still working like he could earn something back.

“This is what we’re training out of you, remember?” Noah continued. “You fall apart the second I touch you. Pathetic little mess. You’d cum from nothing if I let you.”

Liam whimpered around his cock, choking slightly as he pushed himself deeper. His whole body was trembling from effort, from pleasure, from the sheer weight of being treated like this.

“FUCK, man, you love my cock”

The thought crashed into him out of nowhere, cold and sharp, like a bucket of water thrown on a fever.

 When did sucking cock start making him feel like this? What the fuck?
    

It scared the shit out of him.

And...
    

He breathed in Noah’s pubes again as fingers pinched his nipple just right, and his whole body lit up.

The fear shattered.

The shame got overwritten by arousal, by need, by the raw pleasure pulsing through him like instinct. His hips rocked forward. He moaned again.

 Gone.

And then—

The door opened.

Liam froze. His thoughts scattered.

His life was over.

He didn’t even look up. Didn’t move. Just froze in place, cock still in his mouth, body tense like prey about to be seen. 

But Noah moved instantly.

Without missing a beat, he yanked the blanket they’d been sitting on and threw it over Liam’s back—shoving his head deeper onto his cock at the same time so it looked like some girl was just buried under there, sucking him off.

“Do you fucks not knock?” Noah snapped, full of indignation.

Connor and Ian stood in the doorway.

“Shit—sorry, dude!” Ian said immediately. “Didn’t know—uh—we were looking for Liam, actually. Wanted to thank him for the party before we bail.”

Noah’s torso was clearly visible—shirt pushed up, cock vanishing under the blanket. His abs flexed. He looked glorious.

Connor narrowed his eyes slightly. Said nothing.

Noah watched them. Saw the pause.

An opportunity to push Liam deeper into shame, right in front of them.

And he took it without blinking.

And he grinned.

“Y’know what?” he said, tone shifting. “Nah, it’s cool. You’re lucky she’s not shy.”

Under the blanket, he nudged Liam’s head.

“Right, baby?” he said smoothly, loud enough for them to hear. “Keep me in your mouth.”

Liam, still panicked, still rock hard, responded on inertia by sucking again—slow, obedient, desperate.

Noah slapped his ass through the blanket.

“Harder.”

Liam moaned, scared shitless, swallowed, picked up the rhythm again. Spit was pooling inside the sheet, hot and slick.

Ian let out a low whistle. “Brooooo, you’re insane...”

Connor still hadn’t said anything. 

“She’s got no gag reflex,” he said casually, voice smooth as sin. “But she pretends she does sometimes. Watch this.”

And before either of them could process it, Noah grabbed the back of Liam’s head—right through the blanket—and pushed.

Hard.

Liam took it, surprised but compliant, and the sound that followed was so loud under the fabric— a wet, strained gag, followed by a stifled cough and a little choked whimper that made Noah’s cock twitch.

Ian lost it. “DUDE. LEGEND. WHAT. THE FUCK.”

Noah exhaled, eyes fluttering for a second as Liam’s throat spasmed around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, low and real. “That’s good…”

Connor gave a tight smile. “We’ll, uh… let you get back to it...”

They stepped back, already turning to leave.

As the door began to swing shut, Ian’s voice drifted out into the hall:

“Dude’s unreal,” he said to Connor, still stunned. “He’s a fucking god, man. Did you see that shit?”

Connor didn’t reply.

The door clicked closed behind them.

Silence returned.

Noah looked down, lifted the blanket slightly.

Liam’s face was flushed, mouth swollen, hair a mess of sweat and heat and shame. He was still breathing hard—like he hadn’t quite come back to Earth yet.

Noah smirked. “I like Ian.”

Liam blinked, still catching his breath. “I thought I was fucked. Like—over.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, smiling. “You are fucked tho, look at you. And that turned me on so fucking much.” He tilted his head, cool and unbothered. “Ok. I wanna nut and we’re doing something different now.”

Liam groaned, wrecked. “Dude, enough surprises for today. Please.”

He stroked Liam’s jaw with his thumb, soft but commanding. “Don’t swallow when I cum.”

Liam looked up, eyes wide. “What? How?”

Noah didn’t repeat it. He just leaned back slightly, breath deepening, voice dropping low.

“Keep going, baby.”

Liam whimpered—but obeyed.

He sucked again, slower now, every motion soaked in desperation and obedience. His lips were red and wet, moaning softly around Noah’s cock like it anchored him. He was so fucking horny, so fucking needy. His mouth wasn’t reaching the base, but then—almost shyly—he wrapped his hand around what was left, like he was solving a puzzle he didn’t know he’d been trying to crack.

Noah’s body tensed. His hips gave a slow thrust forward.

“Look at you,” Noah breathed, his voice low and almost fond—but laced with mockery. “Little buddy figured out a new trick, huh?”

Liam was working him like he’d just discovered how—mouth wet and sloppy, tongue dragging under the head, he could feel the flow of pre cum on his tongue, hand stroking the base like he’d been doing it forever. His eyes were glassy, focused, worshipful. Like servicing Noah’s cock like it would make him cum too.

Noah laughed under his breath, one hand resting on Liam’s head.

“Fuuuuck... look at you go. I fucking love breaking your little brain.”

Liam moaned around him, the vibration pulling another sharp gasp from Noah’s throat.

“You done squirming? Gonna suck the cum outta me now—like some needy little vacuum?”

Liam didn’t stop. If anything, he sucked harder.

Noah’s head fell back, breath catching.

“Jesus—fuck, you’re gonna make me—”

A choked sound cut him off, hips twitching against Liam’s face.

“Shit, shit—right there—don’t stop, baby, and don’t fucking swallow— shit”

His voice cracked.

Then he came, thick rope after rope —his cock pulsing between Liam’s lips, body tight, moaning through clenched teeth as he flooded Liam’s mouth.

“Take it, fucking— fucking taste my nut.”

Liam gagged, tried to swallow by reflex—

But Noah gripped his hair, firm, between contractions. “DON’T.”

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of Noah’s breath, ragged and stunned.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned again, softer this time. “You’re such a good friend when you go full retard like this.”

Liam stopped. Mouth getting fuller and fuller. His eyes fluttered. His entire body trembled with effort, holding it in. There was so much cum. Literal mouthful of Noah’s jizz. It was hard to breathe even.

When he finally pulled off, his lips were shiny, his jaw aching, and his mouth still full.

Noah looked down at him, completely calm.

“Hold it. Get dressed.”

The words landed like a punch.

Liam blinked up at him, still on his knees, mouth full, lips parted, throat twitching with the desperate urge to swallow.

His whole body went tense.

His eyes widened.

He tried to shake his head, just a little. No fucking way.

But Noah was already getting up. Calm. Like he’d just finished tying his shoes, not face-fucking someone to orgasm. He pulled his shorts up casually, still half-hard, and stretched like nothing had happened.

“Nuannh—” Liam tried to speak, voice muffled and panicked, leaking some jizz from the corner of his mouth.

Noah didn’t even look at him at first. “Uh-uh,” he said, cool and steady. “Don’t talk. You’re gonna waste my stuff”

He adjusted his waistband, ran a hand through his hair, then finally turned around.

“We’re going downstairs,” he said simply.

Liam’s heart slammed against his ribs.

He pointed to his face—his mouth—wide-eyed.

Noah raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna hold it until I say otherwise.”

Liam made a choked noise.

“And you’re not swallowing,” Noah added, stepping closer, his voice suddenly lower, crueler. “Not until I know you’ve talked to someone. Anyone. I’ll be watching.”

Liam whimpered through his nose, frantically starting to pull on his clothes. His hands were shaking. He tried to breathe through it—through the pressure. He could smell Noah’s cum whenever he breathed out through his nose. The full taste of him inside his mouth. Skin still tacky with his old cum. The sound of the sloshing around in his mouth. And he could see Noah smirking definitely in front of him. Every sense was full of him. Everywhere the unbearable sense of being branded.

Noah watched him.

“Better hurry up,” he said. “People are probably already wondering where you are.”

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