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.
MUFFLED
The date went fine.
Claire had shown up at the door and Liam hadn’t moved at first—he’d just sat there. Noah, perfectly unfazed, had thrown on his shorts and crouched beside him, cool as ever. Said he’d handle it. Said he’d stall her with some excuse about Liam helping out with a job interview or something.
And he did. He left with a wink and a joke.
Liam had eventually pulled the dumbbell out of him, wincing, blinking through the haze. When he finally caught his reflection in the mirror, the mess was… obvious. He hadn’t even noticed Noah glancing back in, just long enough to smirk and vanish again.
He’d cleaned up the best he could. Then, somehow, he’d made it downstairs.
Claire was sweet—calm in a way that steadied him. Being around her had started to feel really easy. The conversation always found its rhythm, the silences weren’t awkward, and she laughed in all the right places, even when he didn’t expect her to. They’d tried to have sex too—just to see where it would go. But he couldn’t get it up.
Fucking Noah. He shouldn't have made him cum. That was definitely it.
He just said he was tired. But she didn’t freak out or take it personally. She smiled, kissed him, and let him go down on her instead. And she seemed genuinely happy after—warm and grateful in a way that made him feel like he hadn’t failed at all. She was amazing.
And now it was late.
Past midnight.
The gym lights were dimmed, humming low. The place smelled like sweat and disinfectant, the usual. Liam and Noah had stayed after hours again, just them this time, working through deadlifts and banter, tossing chalk and calling each other names that meant nothing.
It had been friendly. Normal. No tension, not tonight.
Well, at least not until Noah wandered over to the free weights, grabbed a dumbbell, and held it loosely in one hand—sizing it up with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You know what’s weird?” he said casually, tossing it once in his palm. “I’ve been suggesting dumbbell exercises to all my clients this week... and every damn time, I get this weird mental image of you.”
Liam, mid-wipe with his towel, froze. His eyes lifted, slow and narrowed. “You’re not funny.”
“I’m hilarious,” Noah said, deadpan. “But seriously, man—it’s uncanny. I’ll be like, ‘Let’s add a set of split squats with dumbbells,’ and boom—your dumb little face pops into my head.”
Noah grinned wider, stepping closer, the dumbbell still hanging lazily from his fingers.
“Hey, I think I forgot how to use this thing properly. Mind showing me again?” His voice dipped just enough to sting. “You always had suuuch good form.”
Liam’s face flushed. He turned back toward his bag like that would help, mumbling under his breath, “Duuuuude, fuck off!”
Noah said, heading back toward the rack. “Aww, you’re blushing.”
The moment passed. So did the rest of the workout.
Inside, Liam was just grabbing both their bags off the hook, hoodie halfway on, hair slightly damp from his last set.
“You walking?” Noah asked, tossing a glance over as he leaned to relock the door properly this time.
Liam nodded, slinging the strap over one shoulder. “Yeah. Figured I’d finish with some light cardio.”
Noah frowned. “Dude, it’s past midnight.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Noah didn’t argue, but the pause before he looked away was just long enough to clock his friend.
Liam gave him a lazy two-fingered salute. "See you tomorrow, coach."
He smirked and turned away, heading down the sidewalk towards Ashgrove Street.
The air had that cool midnight stillness to it—quiet and sharp. Streetlights buzzed faintly overhead. Nothing moved. The city felt paused, like it was holding its breath between one moment and the next.
Noah exhaled through his nose, shook his head, and turned back to the gym.
He was locking the door behind him, one hand turning the bolt, the other fumbling his keys when they slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground. He bent to grab them—then froze.
Liam was up ahead, maybe 200 feet, talking to two guys. Except… not quite talking. His stance was wrong. Stiff. Defensive.
Noah’s spine straightened like a wire being pulled tight. Something primal thrummed in his gut.
What the fuck?
He squinted—focused—and then saw it.
One of the guys pointed something at Liam.
Liam dropped his gym bag. Hands lifted. Fast.
Then the glint. That unmistakable shimmer under the streetlight.
Metal. A knife.
Noah didn’t think. Didn’t decide.
His body just moved.
Everything in his hands hit the pavement—keys, phone, bag, all irrelevant now. Gone.
There was only Liam. And danger.
He ran.
Absolute sprint. A wild, unfiltered explosion of motion.
He didn’t yell. His jaw was locked tight, his throat closed like a vice. Eyes incandescent. There was nothing but the need—to get there. To protect. To kill, maybe.
Halfway there, time slowed just enough to see it: a fist winding back, and then—
Crack.
Pain.
Liam crumpled like a ragdoll.
Noah didn’t even scream—he bellowed. A guttural, animal sound ripped from his chest. He snapped. Fully.
He slammed into the first guy like a fucking freight train. Closed fist to temple.
“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HIM!!!”
His own hand cracked on impact. He didn’t care. He didn’t feel it.
The guy dropped.
The second guy turned, slashed—desperate. Fucking coward.
The blade kissed Noah’s side. He felt it. Not pain—just the wet. That wrongness. The bloom of heat down his ribs.
He didn’t falter. Didn’t move. He planted himself between Liam and the knife like a wall. Daring.
And that was it. That moment—the last second of fury.
Then they fled. Messy.
Pussies. Little fucking animals, running.
And Noah turned, gasping, vision swimming, blood singing in his ears.
“You okay??”
Liam blinked up, his hand on his face, dazed. “I— y-yeah…”
Good, Noah thought.
And then—
His knees buckled.
Floor. Sky. Everything blurred.
He barely heard Liam’s voice.
Barely registered the panic, the hands, the shirt being lifted.
Just the cold. The slow realization: oh.
It got me.
Liam’s eyes widened in horror.
No.
“Noah?”
No no no.
He scrambled over, heart jackhammering, and that’s when he saw it—the red. Spreading. Fast.
He yanked Noah’s shirt up with trembling hands.
“Oh my god—Noah, you’re—” his voice cracked, “you’re bleeding, shit—fuck—”
His phone. Where the fuck was his phone?
No no no no no no—please no!
One hand clamping over the gash, the other scrambling for his pocket. It took three tries to unlock the screen, his fingers shaking too hard.
The operator was talking but it barely registered. Liam gave out the requested info and hung up. He kept pressing down harder, felt the hot of Noah’s blood soak through his fingers.
Noah was still conscious, barely—eyes fluttering, face pale, breath shallow.
“Hey—hey. Noah, stay with me, okay? Look at me! You’re gonna be fine! They’re coming. I swear, they’re coming.”
Noah made a noise—half cough, half laugh. “M’tired…”
“No, no, no, no, you don’t get to be tired!” Liam snapped, panicked, voice rising.
The warmth beneath his hand was terrifying. Alive. Leaving.
Noah’s eyes were heavy.
“Hey, hey!!!,” he breathed, eyes welling up, “please, please—fuck—don’t do this, stay awake, ok—”
His voice broke. A tear slipped down, then another. His chest was heaving now. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was all his fault.
Noah blinked up at him, dazed, barely holding on. He saw the tears. The way Liam’s lip trembled. His breathing shallow and hitched.
And even now—even fucking now—he managed to force something out.
“…you cryin’?” His voice was slurred, lazy. “I thought you said you weren’t a fag…”
Liam let out a breathy, panicked laugh—one of those ugly, hiccuping sounds that didn’t know what it wanted to be.
Siren lights washed the street in pulses of red and white. The wail was distant one second, deafening the next.
Liam barely noticed them pulling up—he didn’t even turn toward the sound. His eyes were fixed on Noah, whose lids were still fluttering, whose breath came inconsistent.
Then the paramedics were there. Moving fast. Voices clipped, efficient. A man knelt down beside them, pressed gloved hands to the wound. Another man rolled over the stretcher, already unfolding it, already speaking words Liam didn’t catch.
They lifted Noah together. His body looked heavier somehow, slack in their arms, and Liam watched it all like he was underwater. The red on the pavement. The straps clicking into place. The blanket pulled up.
The first man turned to him. “You coming with him?”
Liam didn’t answer.
He just stood.
Then, without a word, he climbed into the ambulance, as if not going had never even been an option.
The sirens screamed into the night. Inside the ambulance, everything felt too small.
He sat hunched on the bench, holding a pack of ice against his face, elbows on his knees, arms and hands bloodstained and shaking. His voice wouldn’t stop.
“He saved me,” Liam muttered to no one in particular. “I didn’t even see it happen. He was just—there. Already running. Who does that?”
The paramedic worked quietly, wrapping Noah’s torso with calm, practiced movements.
“I didn’t even hear him come back. I shouldn’t have walked.” Liam continued. “He said goodbye. He was supposed to go home. Why’d he turn around?”
Still no answer. Just the soft beep of machines and the low rustle of gauze.
“He just threw himself at them,” Liam said, voice rising. “Didn’t yell, didn’t call for help. Just full-on psycho mode. And now look at him. He was joking one second and then he—he just dropped. Quiet. He’s never quiet.”
The paramedic looked up briefly. “His vitals are stabilizing. He’s gonna be okay.”
But Liam wasn’t listening. Couldn’t. His words kept tumbling out, faster now.
“He’s so fucking loud, like all the time, always mouthing off, always got something to say. And now he’s lying there like—like he’s not even… I don’t know, man.”
They reached the hospital fast.
And Liam stood at the hospital sink, scrubbing.
Again.
And again.
The water ran pink. Then red. Then pink again. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t stop. The smell was still there. The feel of it. Warm between his fingers. Sticky under his nails.
He scrubbed harder.
Voices murmured beyond the bathroom door—doctors, nurses, someone calling a code for a different room. None of it touched him.
Liam had already been checked—blood pressure, bruising, the cut on his cheekbone. Nothing serious. Just a black eye and the kind of soreness that would make stairs hell for a few days. But now that the adrenaline was gone, now that he was fine, all he could think about was Noah.
They’d told him he was stable. Being checked. They told him to clean up.
So he did.
Liam stepped out of the bathroom. The hallway felt too quiet—like the walls had muffled everything on purpose, like the world was holding its breath.
A nurse at the counter looked up. He was a bit younger than Liam expected—maybe early 30s— sleeves pushed up to reveal a couple of tattoos along one forearm. His scrubs were the same soft blue as the others’, but he wore them like he was used to moving fast in them. Blue eyes—steady, clear—met Liam’s with a practiced, reassuring smile.
“Oh—you’re Mr. Tate?”
He nodded, slow and a little lost.
“I’m Tyler,” the nurse added, voice calm. “He’s being stabilized now. He’s got a broken hand and they’re starting a transfusion. He lost more blood than expected. They’re giving him a sedative too—just to keep him calm while they stitch him up.”
Liam blinked at him. “Wait—a transfusion?”
Tyler’s smile didn’t waver, practiced and gentle. “Nothing to worry about. It’s just precautionary.”
“But…” His voice cracked a little. “The guy in the ambulance—he said it wasn’t deep. He said it was clean. He said…”
He trailed off, throat tightening. A pressure in his chest that wouldn’t move.
“Why does he need blood if it wasn’t bad?”
The nurse's voice softened. “Internal bleeding doesn’t always look dramatic. He was still losing blood during transport. And his pressure dropped. The sedative’s just to keep his heart rate down. It’s standard. He’ll be okay.”
Liam stared at his, eyes wide. Everything tilted—like the hallway had stretched longer, colder.
“He fainted,” he whispered. “He smiled and then he fainted.”
“That’s adrenaline,” he said, gently. “It carries people further than it should.”
He nodded. Once. Slow. The nurse turned away, and he just stood there for a second, like the floor might move under him.
“You can sit in his room once he’s out of procedure,” he added over her shoulder. “I’ll come get you.”
“Yeah… thanks.”
Liam sank into one of the plastic waiting chairs lining the wall. He stared at the floor. Then at the wall. Then at nothing.
Time blurred. Minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell. At some point, a nurse tapped his arm and murmured that he could go in. He nodded, stood on autopilot, and followed the quiet hallway to Noah’s room.
The monitor beeped steady and low.
Liam hadn’t slept. He was slouched in the chair beside the bed, hoodie still streaked faintly at the sleeve, eyes fixed on the pulse line like it would stop if he looked away.
Then—Noah shifted.
A soft groan. A flutter of eyelids.
“…Humghmm.”
Liam bolted upright.
“Noah?”
Noah blinked slowly. Winced. Tried to sit up, failed.
“Yup…”He looked around trying to place things, still a bit out of it. “…still here. Sort of.”
Liam let out a breath that was almost a laugh. Then, without thinking—he reached out. Took Noah’s hand. Held it tight.
Not rough. Not teasing. Earnest.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Liam whispered, eyes stinging again. “You really—”
But Noah tensed. His brows knit. He looked down at their hands. Then gently tugged his hand back.
“Uh… I’m fine. You don’t need to—”
Liam pulled away like he’d been burned.
“Sorry. Sorry. I just… I didn’t mean—”
“It’s cool,” Noah said quickly, glancing away. “Drugs make everything feel weirder, y’know?”
Liam nodded. Looked down.
“Yeah. Totally. Weirder.” Silence settled between them. “So… like, how are you feeling?
“Like I got stabbed,” Noah deadpanned. “You?”
“I don’t know,” Liam said, fast. “Odd. Scared, I guess. I didn’t know I could be that scared.”
A beat passed. Then another.
“You know,” Liam said, quieter now, “I think I actually hate you a little.”
Noah blinked. “You’re welcome?”
“For running in like that,” Liam said. “For getting between me and a knife. Like a fucking idiot.”
“Pretty heroic for an idiot, though.”
Liam didn’t laugh. He just looked down again, thumb rubbing his knuckle like a nervous tic.
***************************
Work was a blur.
No one noticed anything. Or if they did, they didn’t say it. Maybe they noticed he didn’t make coffee, or how he flinched when his phone buzzed. Whatever. He answered emails. Sat through a meeting. Laughed once.
By the time the afternoon hit, he’d stopped pretending.
He didn’t say goodbye. Just stood, grabbed his keys, and walked out like something had called him.
He took the same hallway. Same elevator. Same soft-scrubbed nurses who didn’t look at him twice. He paused at the door, hand hovering over the handle.
Then he pushed it open.
Noah was awake, propped up slightly in bed. He looked tired but conscious—alert enough to be annoyed by the fluffiness of his hospital pillow. And sitting at his bedside, smoothing her coat back over her shoulders, was a woman.
She stood as Liam entered.
Elegant, mid-fifties maybe, with the same sharp cheekbones as Noah, but her expression was softer—serious, but not cold.
“You must be Liam.” Her tone was calm, measured. She extended a hand. “I’m Adriana, Noah’s mother.”
Liam blinked, startled. “Oh—hi. Yeah. I’m Liam.”
They shook hands. Hers was firm. Warm.
Adriana smiled faintly, then turned back to Liam. “He’s doing okay. They’re keeping him for about a week—just to make sure there are no complications. He’s stable, but they want to monitor the internal injury.”
She picked up her purse and glanced at Noah.
“I have to head back to the house—things are a mess. But first I’ll go to the pharmacy. Your dad’s nauseous again.”
She looked at Liam. “Make sure he doesn’t try to act tougher than he is.”
“I’ll try…” Liam said.
And then she was gone—heels soft against the tile, the scent of her perfume trailing faintly behind.
Liam sat down again in the chair beside the bed.
“Your dad’s sick?”
Noah didn’t look up.
“He’s fine.”
“She said he’s nauseous aga—”
“I said he’s fine.”
Sharp. Clipped. Not angry, but borderline.
It landed like a slap across a closed door
Liam dropped it.
Noah still hadn’t looked at him.
A beat passed. Two
The hospital felt a bit more normal now. Sunlight pressed through the blinds in dusty stripes. He pulled out his phone, aimlessly scrolling—still a little too dazed to focus on anything for real.
Then—Noah’s voice.
“Hey, man.”
Liam glanced up.
Noah was watching him. A familiar look on his face—lazy, half-smirk, eyelids low. The kind of look that used to mean trouble. Or something worse.
“…You mind giving me a hand?”
Liam tilted his head. “Of course. With what?”
Noah didn’t answer. Just shifted the sheets off his hips—slow, unbothered. His hard cock was throbbing already, the head flaring.
Let the question answer itself.
“I swear they’ve been sneaking Viagra into the I.V.”
Liam blinked. He looked around as if checking to see if there were walking around the corridor. A moment passed. Then he said, “Okay,” quietly. No sarcasm. No hesitation. Just… okay.
Noah’s smirk faltered. Just slightly.
He hadn’t expected that.
He cleared his throat. “Actually…” His voice dropped. “It’s better if u suck me off. Less of a mess, right?”
Liam was already by his side holding his cock, he didn’t look away. Just exhaled once, subtle, and said: “Yeah. I guess...”
He watched Liam’s face for a second. Too quiet. Too calm.
Then, like a switch had been flipped, he broke eye contact. His hand moved fast—grabbing Liam’s wrist, pulling it away. Pulling the sheets up again.
“…Nah. Never mind,” Noah muttered. “I’m tired.”
Liam froze. His fingers curled slowly into his palm.
“…Okay.”
The tension stayed, thick in the air. Not spoken. Not clarified. Just there.
Noah looked away, jaw clenched, as if suddenly ashamed.
Liam went back to his chair.
He wasn’t really scrolling. Just… looking. Every once in a while his eyes lifted—back to the bed. To Noah.
The blanket was up to his chest again, his face turned half toward the wall. But Liam kept staring, like he couldn’t help it. Like he was trying to make sense of what just happened.
Noah didn’t move. Not for a while.
Then—without turning his head—he spoke.
“Stop that.”
Liam frowned. “What?”
“Looking at me like that.”
Liam sat up a little. “Like what?”
“Like I’m some kind of fucking war hero or saint or—I don’t know. God.” Noah finally turned toward him, jaw tight. “I ran into a knife, dude. That’s not brave. That was stupid.”
Liam opened his mouth, closed it again. Swallowed.
“You didn’t even think twice,” he said, voice low. “You didn’t even hesitate.”
“Yeah. That’s the problem,” Noah shot back. “I should’ve.”
Liam looked down.
Noah sighed. Ran a hand over his face. “I’m not saying I regret it, alright? I’d do it again. But don’t… don’t look at me like that. I’m not some noble fuckin’ martyr. It’s fuckin’ annoying.”
Liam’s eyes stayed on the floor. “Okay.”
Silence.
Noah leaned his head back against the pillow. “Jesus.”
But his voice was softer that time.
*******************
The week passed in fragments.
Noah stayed in the hospital, mostly lucid, mostly annoyed. His body healed slower than he would've liked, and his tolerance for IV drips and heart monitors wore thin by day three. But Liam kept showing up. Not dramatically, not all day—but just enough. A few hours in the evening. A coffee in the morning. Sometimes nothing but a quiet nod before sitting down and scrolling through his phone in the corner.
There was a rhythm to it. The silence between them got looser, lighter. No one's voice cracked anymore. Noah was back to complaining about the food. Liam was back to calling him an asshole. Noah grinned more often. Liam winced less.
By the sixth day, they were mostly back to normal.
And tomorrow would be the seventh.
The morning Noah was finally going home.
Liam was back in the chair again. Phone still ignored.
Noah shifted under the blanket, winced a little. “Hey.”
Liam looked up.
Noah had that expression again—half-lazy, half-loaded. Like Deja-vu.
“…You gonna help me out or what?”
Liam dragged a hand down his face. “You’re still on that?”
Noah didn’t answer. Just folded the blanket down with one hand. Same move as before. Real casual.
His cock was already getting hard.
Liam’s eyes widened. “Dude.”
“C’mon,” Noah muttered, dropping his voice. “It’s been a week. A fucking week. I’m gonna die.”
“We’re in a hospital,” Liam hissed, glancing at the hallway. “People could walk in—”
“Door’s closed.”
“Not locked.”
“We’ll hear it open.”
“Noah—.”
Then Noah tilted his head. That lazy grin growing. The one that always meant he saw something he liked.
“…Dude, what happened to you?” he said, dragging the words slow. “You were so willing that first day. I barely had to ask.”
Liam flinched.
“I was in shock, asshole.”
A pause. Then something flickered.
Liam smiled. Just a little
“That’s… why you stopped, isn’t it?”
Noah looked away.
“Fuck off.”
Liam lowered his gaze, a quiet smile tugging at his lips—surprised, warm, maybe even a little bashful.
A beat.
“So what—now you don’t want to suck me off?”
Liam stared at him, jaw tight. “I never want to suck you off.”
Noah gave him a once-over, slowly, eyes glittering.
“...You sure seems to love it whenever you do tho.”
“God.”
And Noah just smiled.
That grin was pure sin. A little smug. A little knowing. A little hotter the longer Liam stayed still.
Then Noah flopped back dramatically against the pillow like he was dying of plague.
“Please, bro,” he groaned, lifting his bandaged hands like it was obvious. “I haven’t even jerked off. Not once. Not even a little. I’m leaking testosterone through my piss slit.”
Liam choked. “You have two hands and one Ashley.”
“I actually have one hand and I tried Ash, she told me to meditate.”
Then Noah looked at him again, and the smirk shifted—just slightly. A little more real. A little more him.
“I saved your life, dude,” he added, a little softer. “Least you could do is suck my dick.”
Liam’s throat tightened. He exhaled hard through his nose.
Silence hung thick between them. His eyes dropped—down Noah’s body, across the sheets.
Then—
“…You’re the fucking worst,” he muttered.
Noah grinned. “Is that a yes?”
Liam didn’t answer.
He just stood.
And stepped toward the bed.
Noah looked up at him, head tilted just slightly on the pillow. His eyes sharpened. Watching every little fumble. Every stutter in Liam’s body.
“…You nervous?” he asked, voice low. Teasing, but soft.
Liam swallowed. “We’re in a hospital, man.”
Noah’s smile grew—slow, stretched. Smug.
“Yeah,” he said, shifting just slightly. “And you’re about to suck me off in it.”
Liam rolled his eyes. His pulse was doing stupid things again.
He glanced at the door.
No footsteps.
No shadows.
Just fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, Noah’s bare chest rising slow, blanket off. He was pointing his hard dick up.
Noah watched him with that same hungry, heat-soaked gaze.
Liam shifted his weight semi-crouching. His fingers curled around Noah’s 9 inches—slow, tentative. Heavy. Always so fucking heavy. Already slick at the tip.
He leaned in, on his knees, lips ghosting closer.
But before he could do anything—
Noah’s hand shot down. Caught him by the wrist.
“Wait.”
Liam froze. “What now?”
Noah’s grin turned mean. Not angry—just... evil. The kind that knew exactly what it was doing.
“Peel my foreskin back first.”
Liam blinked. “Jesus.”
“C’mon. I know how much you like my smell. This is for you, man.”
Liam’s ears went red.
Noah chuckled. “You’re already blushing. That’s so fucking cute.”
Liam’s jaw tightened. “Shut the fuck up.”
But he did it anyway.
He tugged the foreskin down, slow. The head of Noah’s cock was flushed, swollen, shiny. The air thickened with heat and something muskier—raw, earthy, real.
Noah watched him closely. “Yeah,” he murmured. “There it is. Smells like me, huh?”
Liam didn’t answer. Because it did. He hated how familiar the smell was.
But he didn’t pull away, either.
Noah cocked his head. “You getting hard?”
Liam’s mouth twitched. “No.”
Noah raised a brow. “Cool. Then show me.”
Liam froze.
Noah didn’t blink. “C’mon. Drop your pants, dude. Prove it.”
There was a pause— He opened his mouth like he might argue, but all that came out was a quiet, annoyed breath.
And then—defeated, muttering something under it—he tugged his waistband down.
And there it was. Obvious.
Hard cock.
“Thought so.”Noah smirked, voice low and smug. “Ok, you can suck it now.”
Liam didn’t argue.
He just leaned in and opened his mouth.
The first press of Noah’s cock against his tongue was shaky—awkward. Not clumsy, but… tense. Like Liam was fighting his own instincts. Like he hated how easy this was becoming. The taste was… not bad.
Noah groaned. Real quiet. More like a sigh.
“There you go…” he said, voice low. “Make me feel good.”
Liam didn’t respond. Just closed his lips and started to move—slow at first, cautious. His hand held the base, his tongue trying to figure out what felt right, what didn’t feel like surrender.
But Noah wasn’t giving him space to hide in silence.
“God, you’re good at this,” he muttered. “I taste amazing, right?”
Liam made a noise—couldn’t help it.
Noah let out a slow exhale. “Shit. That’s a yes, isn’t it?”
Liam tried to speed up, to drown it out, but that just made Noah worse. His grip tightened. His head bobbed a little faster now, heat crawling up his neck.
“FuuuUUUCKK, little buddy. You like being down there.” he said, smug and sweet.
Liam’s cheeks flared pink.
His other hand had drifted lower.
Down his own stomach.
And now?
Now he was jerking himself.
Slow. Tight. Like he could hide it from Noah.
He couldn’t.
Noah noticed immediately.
He let out a low, mocking chuckle. “Ohhh noo,” he said, dragging the words like syrup. “Are you seriously getting off on this?”
Liam flinched.
Didn’t stop. Didn’t even try.
Noah’s voice dropped—pure smug now. “Jesus. That’s fucking pathetic.”
Liam moaned around him.
Liam squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to block the words around him, mouth still moving. Suction. Sloppy.
“You’re actually gonna cum while sucking me off. In a hospital. Like a little freak.”
Liam moaned. It wasn’t intentional—it just slipped out.
And that was when Noah reached down—hand still sticky—and grabbed Liam’s hip.
Pulled him up and forward. Adjusted his angle.
Liam stumbled a little, still with his mouth full of pulsing slick cock—but now his back arched slightly, his ass raised just a bit more.
Noah opened his friend’s ass cheeks and his eyes went straight to Liam’s hole.
“…Yup,” he muttered, like he’d been looking for it all along. His thumb slid along Liam’s ass. “Still smooth as fuck. Your pussy lips are quivering, little buddy.”
Liam squinted his eyes in shame. But his strokes on himself got faster—messier.
Noah leaned back again, watching everything now—the lips on the head of his throbbing cock, the hand on Liam’s own little dick, the little tremble in his thighs.
Liam was moving faster now—desperate. His lips slick, his jaw straining, breath noisy through his nose. He wasn’t doing it for Noah anymore. Not really.
He was chasing it.
His own orgasm. His own break.
And Noah sensed it. On the way Liam’s lips closed up when his cockhead passed through them.
He lifted two fingers and slid them past his lips, slow and deep. His tongue curled around them, wet and lazy, before pulling them back out—slick and shining.
Then his hand drifted back.
Down Liam’s ass.
And shoved. Deep.
Liam jolted.
Mouth popped off with a wet gasp. “Uhuummfgggg—N-Noah—!”
Noah’s fingers slid deeper, slow and wet, until his knuckles were touching Liam’s hole.
“Shhh…” Noah said, low and sweet. His voice dropped into something horrifyingly gentle. “It’s okay. You’re doing great.”
Liam froze—his breath hitched, hips twitching.
Noah smiled wider. “C’mon. Back on, little buddy.”
Liam just looked at him—red-faced, dazed, visibly trembling. Noah’s eyebrows drawn slightly together in mock concern, lips twitching.
“What?” And he pressed a third finger in—slow and firm, stretching him wider “Doesn’t your pretty little hole good?”
His fingers circled—teasing. A slick, lazy swirl.
Liam closed his eyes, defeated, whimpered—genuinely—and went back down.
Liam sucked harder now—determined, frantic, drowning in it.
Noah’s head tipped back with a groan, eyes fluttering shut.
“Hummmm, fuck me, that’s good… Keep going.”
Liam whimpered again, three fingers in, asshole throbbing, his own hand pumping faster, teeth grazing just barely, like he wanted to die right there and Noah would absolutely let him.
He felt fucking filthy.
Footsteps.
Voices.
Close.
Right outside the door.
Liam froze.
His entire body jolted.
He tried to pull away instantly—but Noah’s hand snapped down on the back of his head, firm but not rough, fingers curled into his hair.
“Stay.” Noah whispered, steady, like the tip of his cock wasn’t poking his throat. “Chill. It’s not this room.”
Liam made a noise—panicked, muffled—but Noah held him still, fingers stroking lightly through his hair now, soothing. Controlling.
“They’re probably just checking on the old man next door,” Noah said, tone all low and calm. “Don’t move. You’ll make noise. Focus on me stretching your hole, yeah?”
Liam squirmed. His hand had flown off himself, sweat pooling at the base of his spine, face flushed and hot. The voices were right outside. Closer now.
“Noghhaah—” he tried to call his name, mouth full, tried to pull back again.
“Shh, stay on my cock,” Noah said again. “It’s okay. Just wait.”
He pulled his fingers out almost all the way, then slid them back in deep, curling just right. Over and over. Lazy. Controlled.
Liam’s eyes crossed. Body shaking.
“Nnnh—mhhf—ahh—” Small, choked moans left him.
“That’s it. Let go.” Noah murmured, soft. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
The fear making his skin buzz.
But Noah didn’t let go.
Didn’t budge.
Just kept his hand on the back of Liam’s neck, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. Still so gentle. Still so in charge.
And just like that—the footsteps faded.
The voices drifted away.
Silence.
Noah exhaled a little laugh. “See? Not our room.”
Liam stayed there, still panting, forehead resting against Noah’s hip, lips flushed and wet.
“You were so scared,” Noah teased. “You clenched like a fucking mousetrap. Thought you were about to be caught with your mouth full of cock.”
Liam groaned—humiliated—and finally pulled off.
“That wasn’t funny,” he muttered, still catching his breath. “We could’ve gotten caught.”
Noah just shrugged. Calm. Unbothered. “So?”
Liam gawked at him. “So? What do you mean ‘so”?”
“Whatever,” Noah said, grinning. “I have a better idea anyway.”
Liam froze. “Oh, no.”
Noah tilted his head, all fake innocence. “Climb up here.”
“What?”
“On the bed. C’mon.”
“No.”
“Dude.”
“I’m not—”
“I wanna see what I’m fingering while you suck my cock.”
Liam stared at him. Like he couldn’t tell if this was a bit or a mental breakdown.
“…We’re in a hospital, Noah.”
“Yeah. That’s what makes it fun.”
“You’re insane.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re injured. Because we’re technically in public. Because there are nurses.”
“Precisely, man, I’m injured.” Noah held up a finger, smug—“Listen, I’d move if I could, but I’m kinda trying not to rip my stitches open. This is the only way.”
“No.”
Noah groaned, like Liam had just denied him oxygen. “Dude. Please. I’m in pain.”
“No, you’re not. You’re fine.”
“No seriously—actual pain. This is the only thing that’ll help.” He dragged out the last part, fake pitiful. “C’mon. Just get on the bed. Face the other way. I’ll be good.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Define good.”
“I won’t do anything weird.”
“That means nothing coming from you.”
“I’m injured!” Noah repeated, voice cracking into something between a whine and a laugh. “I’m literally on medical leave, man, I can’t even sit up. Just… get on top of me. Underwear down. No one’s gonna come in.”
Liam exhaled hard, like he was mentally weighing how illegal this was.
“…You’re gonna make me do this, aren’t you?”
Noah gave him the most pathetic look he could manage—brows lifted, lips pouting slightly, eyes soft like he was about to die.
Then Liam stepped closer.
Noah didn’t say a word—just watched, barely containing the grin spreading across his face.
Liam climbed onto the bed like it was an execution table. Swung one leg over, settled himself carefully over Noah’s chest—facing away—his hands bracing against the headboard.
Noah’s breath hitched audibly.
“…Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
Liam pulled his underwear down with one annoyed motion and leaned in towards Noah’s cock—slow, controlled—until his bare ass completely up Noah’s face, back arched slightly, legs tense.
Noah was silent for half a beat.
Then—
“Holy fuck,” he exhaled, hands already sliding up to grab Liam’s hips like he’d been starving.
And just like that, the pity act evaporated.
Fingers found their way back between Liam’s cheeks—eager, filthy, practiced. He spread him open with both thumbs and let out a low, reverent groan as Liam’s pink hole twitched.
“Ohhhhh, fuck yeah”
Liam closed his eyes. “Stop talking...”
Noah licked his lips, already rubbing two slick fingers in slow circles around Liam’s ass lips. “Why isn’t your mouth sucking my pre out of the slit yet?”
A finger slipped back in with zero resistance. Then another. Then he felt Liam’s warm mouth on his cock.
“God, you’re so open now,” Noah muttered, voice thick with awe and filth.
Another finger in.
Liam didn’t answer—but his body did. He sucked harder, intuitively.
Noah grinned, fingers working him slow and deep.
“There we go. That’s it. Just like that,” he whispered, leaning up slightly to kiss the base of Liam’s spine. “You’re being so fucking good for me.”
Noah’s fingers kept working—deep and slow, sliding in and out with that slick, twitching hole—but his mouth?
His mouth started moving too.
He leaned up, breath hot, and pressed a kiss to the small of Liam’s back. Soft. Barely there.
Then another. Higher. A little wetter. A little more deliberate.
Liam didn’t notice at first—too focused, bent forward, mouth full of Noah, throat working as he tried to keep control. Tried to stay in rhythm. His own hand jerking his cock.
Another kiss. Then a drag of tongue. Then a small bite.
“Mmh,” Noah exhaled, tasting the light sweat on Liam’s skin. “You taste good, man.”
Liam’s breath hitched—but he didn’t stop.
Noah kept going. Up his spine, down again. Slower now. Lazier. More mouth. He kissed over the dip of Liam’s lower back, then just beneath it, letting his lips trail along his ass cheeks.
And that’s when Liam flinched.
He pulled off with a wet gasp, blinking like he just woke up. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Noah didn’t stop. He just chuckled, dragging his tongue between Liam’s cheeks, voice muffled and filthy.
“Don’t worry about me. Do your job.”
Liam’s jaw dropped. “Noah—”
But Noah was already there.
Already licking. Hot and slow, eyes closed, full of pressure, his grip locking Liam in place while he mouthed over his hole like he’d been planning this the whole time.
Liam choked on a sound. His knees buckled slightly:
“OoooOOOUHhhhh”
“Oh my god—” he whispered. “What the f—aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh”
Noah just hummed against his ass—lazily, like he was enjoying a popsicle.
“Back to my cock, little buddy.” he muttered between licks. “Take good care of me, okay?”
Liam tried to stay focused. Really, he did. He went back to sucking Noah—messy, unsteady—but his breath kept catching. His thighs kept twitching. Noah’s tongue was deep now, working him in slow, deep circles, one hand spreading him wider while the other stroked lazy patterns up his hip like Liam wasn’t falling apart. It felt good.
And then Liam moaned—deep and cracked, mouth still around Noah.
Noah groaned back, hips twitching.
“Fffuck… that’s right,” he muttered, breath hot against Liam’s skin. “Moan for it. Choke on me while I ruin you.”
Liam whined. Whined. Tried to lift himself off Noah’s mouth, but fingers dug in harder, pulling him back down.
“Uh-uh. Stay. Don’t get shy now,” Noah said, smug and breathless. “You’re fuckin’ leaking.”
Liam choked, gagged once on Noah’s cock, pulled off just enough to gasp:
“I—I can’t—”
“Yeah, you can,” Noah growled. “You’re doing so fucking good, little buddy.”
He spit on his opening hole, sloppy and loud, before licking him open even deeper, his moans muffled into Liam’s body. God he was so smooth.
Liam’s whole frame was shaking now. Hands braced on the headboard. Lips parted, face gone.
“Oh god—fuck—Noah—!”
“Shhh,” Noah cooed, both hands now opening Liam up. Hard. “Let go. You’re almost there. I can feel it.”
Noah was fully in it now—tongue buried deep, lips slick, groaning like he was thirsty. But that wasn’t enough, of course not. His hands were busy, too. Both of them now.
Jiggling his ass.
Literally.
Noah grabbed a cheek and gave it a firm little shake, like he was testing ripeness at the grocery store.
“God,” he muttered, tongue dragging slow and hot over Liam’s hole. “You’re so perky. You’ve got a girl’s ass.”
Liam wanted to crawl out of his own skin. Every time Noah complimented him—“so perky” “so good,” “taking it so easy”—it hit like a punch. Not sweet. Not flattering. Just filthy. Wrong. His legs were shaking, his hole aching, his face red down to the chest, and Noah had the audacity to jiggle his ass like a fucking toy. Like he was one of his fucking bitches. And he was blushing—burning, leaking, clenching around spit and fingers with his lips wrapped around Noah’s cock like it was instinct. And he was getting off on it. What the fuck. His body pulsed with every humiliating touch. The shame only made it worse. He was dizzy with it.
Liam took a shaky breath through his nose, bracing himself with one hand on Noah’s thigh, the other gripping the edge of the mattress like he was about to dive off a cliff. His mouth was already wet, lips swollen, spit glistening down his chin—but he didn’t hesitate this time.
He didn’t know why he did it but he felt he needed to. He went deep.
His head dipped, slow but determined, lips sliding down the shaft inch by inch until his nose was full of Noah’s pubes again, breath hitching, throat tightening around it.
Noah’s whole body jerked. His lips left Liam momentarily.
“Oh—fuuuck,” he gasped, voice cracking open. “Holy shit, man—DEEPTHROATING NOW?”
Liam didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t want to hear it. But Noah moaned again, low and hot and wrecked, and Liam’s thighs clenched at the sound.
He pulled back an inch, gasped, then pushed down again—deeper, letting it hit the back of his throat, letting it stay there.
His eyes watered. His jaw ached. But he didn’t stop.
Liam let out something between a gasp and a laugh, face buried, thighs trembling. His hips bucked once, a needy grind.
“Don’t.” Noah warned.
But Liam moaned again—high, desperate—and started to slide forward, off Noah’s tongue, toward relief. Stroking his cock faster now.
Noah’s hands snatched his hips back down.
“Nope. Not before me,” he said, breath sharp now, voice getting that hard edge. “You don’t get to finish before I do.”
Liam groaned, frustrated, writhing. Slowed down, submissively.
“Atta boy. Milk my cock and I’ll let you cum after you swallow every fucking drop of my jizz, ok, little buddy?”
Liam grumbled but shuffled back down Noah’s body, nodding desperately with his mouth full—messier now, angrier, more needy than ever. He was now going up and down on Noah, almost fully.
Noah exhaled like it was a reward.
Noah’s tongue was relentless—slow and deep, licking into Liam with a rhythm that made his whole body twitch. In and out. Side to side. His thighs were trembling now, voice caught in his throat, whines slipping past his lips as he tried to hold back.
He was so close.
And then—it stopped.
Noah pulled back, lips slick, breath heavy against Liam’s skin.
“Take me cock off your mouth,” he said casually. “Look at me.”
Liam blinked down at him, dazed. “W—what?”
“Wanna cum?” Noah said, smug and breathless. “Beg me.”
Liam’s jaw dropped. “Are y—you serious?”
Noah’s hands were still on his hips, holding him in place. He leaned up, licking a slow stripe up the inside of his thigh till his ass lips before biting down—gently, but enough to make Liam yelp.
“Dead serious,” he whispered. “Say it. Or I’m done.”
Liam groaned, face crumpling in embarrassment, trying to look away.
“Fuck, Noah…”
Noah spat on his hole and gave it one long, slow lick—almost enough pressure to tip him over.
“Come on,” he murmured against his ass lips, humming. “Beg me to jizz in your mouth so you can cum.”
Liam squirmed, face flushed, humiliated and rock hard and desperate.
“I—fuck—Noah… please.”
“Mmm. Not good enough. Jerk me off while you say it.”
“Please, I wanna cum— Dude.”
“Say it right.” Noah slid two fingers back in, crooked them just right, and Liam choked. Liam’s hand were going fast on Noah’s cock and on his own.
“Please let me cum,” he gasped, voice cracking, “please, Noah, I need it—please—”
“Not fucking good enough!”
And just like that—Noah went back in.
Tongue and fingers working in tandem, ruthless, precise, and god-tier. Liam sobbed out a moan, his whole body tightening, falling forward onto his elbows.
“Cum in my—my mouth for fucks’s sake” he gasped, voice cracking, “please, Noah, I need it—please do it—”
“Good boy,” he whispered against him. “Keep stroking my cock, little buddy, you can cum after you swallow every bit.”
And Noah shoved his face right back into the wet hole between Liam’s cheeks, licking like Liam had just begged for his life.
Liam’s hand was slick, fast—stroking Noah. His head was low, breath shaky, lips parted.
Noah’s voice broke the silence—low, wrecked, still cocky.
“Your pussy tastes so good, little buddy,” he murmured. “Fuck me, it’s so soft and wet, look at that.” He shoved his tongue deeper.
Liam moaned.
“That’s it. Don’t stop now.”
Liam glanced up, and Noah was juggling his ass again—flushed, eyes dark, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead.
“You’re gonna take it,” he murmured. “Every last drop. In your mouth. You hear me?”
Liam’s jaw clenched, his cheeks turning even redder, but he didn’t stop. His grip got tighter.
Noah let his head fall back a little, breath hitching as Liam twisted at the base, tongue flicking out to taste the tip. Just a tease.
“Fuck—yes. Just like that. You gonna open that mouth for me, baby?”
Liam nodded, almost too fast. He leaned in, lips parting, tongue out like a goddamn offering.
Noah’s hips bucked once—twice—and then he groaned, deep and sharp and filthy as he came, hot and hard, right onto Liam’s tongue.
“Mmm, fffffffuuuuuUUUUCKKKKK— that’s it,” he growled. “Good boy. Fuckin’ good—god, look at you.”
Liam swallowed and swallowed, his mouth filling up with the taste of Noah’s cum, still panting, eyes wide and glassy. His hand stayed on Noah’s cock, stroking him through it. Mouth glued to the head of his friend’s cock until he felt it throb slower and slower. He could feel the head growing and shrinking with each spurt, pumping more and more of Noah into his tongue.
Noah took a moment, eyes glazed in bliss. He looked down at him—breathless, smiling, menacing. Still a bit high.
He paused, stared at Liam.
“Now… sit your pussy on my face so I can make you squirt.”
Liam turned and looked at him, eyes wide, mouth parted—like he couldn’t believe Noah had actually said that out loud.
“...That’s so fucked up.” Liam muttered, voice wrecked, face red as hell.
Noah just smiled up at him from the bed, smug as shit, breath still heavy from his own orgasm, lips shiny, inviting.
“And yet,” he said, tilting his head back, “you’ll do it anyway.”
Liam hesitated—but only for a second.
Undone, he climbed up, straddling Noah’s chest again, knees shaky, hands braced on the headboard. He hovered, trembling, humiliated, so close to losing it.
Noah’s expression didn’t change. Wide-eyed. Hungry. Soft mouth curved up in the kind of smile that looked almost innocent—if his tongue hadn’t just flicked out like he was dying for it.
“Go on,” Noah murmured, voice thick. “Sit.”
Liam exhaled like he was giving up his soul—and lowered himself.
Noah groaned the moment Liam’s used hole touched his lips, his hands flying to grip Liam’s thighs, fingers digging in possessively.
And his tongue?
All fucking in.
Liam threw his head back instantly, mouth open, breath ragged.
“F-fuck—!”
Below him, Noah’s eyes fluttered shut. He moaned into it like he was tasting Liam.
Pure joy. Pure fuck-you-I-won joy.
Liam was panting now—high and fast—hips rocking in small, desperate circles while he stroked himself hard and fast, thighs trembling on either side of Noah’s face. He didn’t care anymore. His body was gone, soaked in sweat, knees barely holding him up.
His hand worked in quick, sloppy pulls, every nerve lit up like fire under his skin. He was so close it hurt.
And Noah?
Noah was moaning into him, mouth still open, tongue still moving, hands gripping, squeezing Liam’s thighs like he owned them.
Muffled between Liam’s cheeks, his voice vibrated right through him:
“Cum on my face. Lemme feel your pussy lips contracting on my tongue, little buddy.”
The words—low, warm, filthy—slid through Liam like electricity.
“Fffuck—hnggggg—huuuUUUUMFFFFFFF— I’m—I’mmm—”
He could feel all of Noah’s lips and tongue going inside of him.
“FffuckfuCKFUCKFFuuuuc—
And then he broke.
A loud, guttural moan ripped out of him as he came—hard—hot ropes spilling across his chest, his stomach. His asshole squeezing and relaxing on Noah’s mouth with each spurt of cum oozing out of his cock.
Noah groaned under him like he was proud.
Somewhere in the haze, he had to remind himself where he was. Hospital. Fuck. He was in a hospital. He clenched his teeth, stifled a moan that wanted to rip out of his chest, biting back the sound like it physically hurt to keep it in. His whole body shook, hand still jerking, thighs trembling over Noah’s face, and all he could think was—don’t be loud. don’t be loud.
Liam’s breath hitched in broken pulses, mouth parted, body limp but twitching—like pleasure hadn’t quite let go of him yet. His cock was still hard, leaking cum in slow, lazy drips, as if even it didn’t know the scene was over.
His thighs trembled as he lifted himself, awkward, unsteady—like peeling himself off the heat of a fever dream. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Didn’t want to see the wreckage of what he’d just allowed.
Noah’s face—still between his legs seconds ago—was gone now, but the memory of it felt seared into his skin. Liam winced as he shifted, every nerve still electric, overstimulated. Too much. Not enough.
His hand grazed the hem of his shirt—and froze. Wet. Sticky.
Eyes still hazy, he looked down.
The front was ruined. Clingy with sweat, streaked with his own mess—like he’d been marked. Painted.
It clung to him like a second skin. Like possession.
And maybe that’s what it was. Not just a shirt anymore. A flag. A stain. A sign.
He didn’t know whether to take it off or never take it off again.
He glanced back at Noah.
And there he was.
Lying flat, shirtless, sweaty, smiling like the devil himself—one arm tucked behind his head like he was posing for a fucking painting. The other lazily dragging across his mouth, wiping it clean in the most obscene way possible, like he was savoring the taste even now.
“You’re welcome,” Noah murmured, voice low and smug.
Then he licked his lips—slow, deliberate. Like he knew exactly what he’d done to Liam. What he’d taken. What he owned now.
Liam’s stomach twisted. Shame and pride. Disbelief and need.
Noah’s eyes flicked up to meet his, heavy-lidded, hot with amusement.
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