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.
JACKET
Everyone kind of knew what happened. Not just the gym—word had gotten around the whole damn city. Some local paper even emailed him for a statement. Liam didn’t reply. He figured Noah wouldn’t want that. Wouldn’t want his name dragged out like some headline. Still, now that Noah was out of the hospital, Liam couldn’t help wondering how he’d act. If he’d be difficult about it. If he even knew how many people had heard.
The front desk looked the same.
Same scuffed counter. Same weak overhead light. Same rack of protein bars nobody bought unless they were too embarrassed to ask about pre-workout.
What didn’t look the same was Noah.
He was behind the counter, leaning on his good elbow—right side—since his dominant hand was still in a cast. Leftie problems. His hoodie was unzipped halfway, his mood already halfway gone. His eyes tracked Liam the second he walked in—then narrowed like Liam had just committed a crime. A heinous one.
“You told people.”
Liam stopped mid-step. “What?”
Noah straightened up, winced slightly. “Don’t play dumb. You told people what happened.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t have to, dude. There was a pool of blood like two hundred feet from here. Pretty sure they figured it out.”
Noah groaned. Actually groaned. “Bro. People have been talking to me for no reason.”
Liam squinted. “Like… ‘hey man, how are you?’”
“No,” Noah said. “Like this guy—some rando who never speaks—comes up to me and just… touches my shoulder. Says ‘that was brave, man.’” He made a face like he’d just tasted spoiled protein powder. “What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?”
Liam smirked. “Thank you?”
“I said ‘I was trying to get pizza’ and walked away.”
Another beat.
Noah groaned again. “Some chick brought me a juice shot.”
Liam blinked. “Like a gift?”
“Like a tribute,” Noah muttered. “Walked in like ‘this is for what you did.’ Bro, it was ginger and cayenne. I almost threw up.”
Liam laughed, biting down on it. “You’re such an ungrateful little hero.”
Noah was mid-rant about small-talk and unsolicited back pats when Devon, the gym’s manager, rounded the corner.
“Liam!” Devon grinned, walking straight up to him. “Glad you’re here. I was hoping you’d be around for this.”
Noah’s eyebrows drew in instantly. “For what?”
Devon ignored him, reaching into his back pocket. “We don’t have an official award policy for gym-based violence prevention, but…” He pulled out a tiny velvet box. “I had something made.”
Noah took a literal step back. “No.”
Devon opened the box like it was a diamond ring.
Inside was the tiniest medal Liam had ever seen.
Silver. A little weight plate on a ribbon. The text read:
GYM GUARDIAN.
Noah stared at it like it had just crawled out of a sewer and offered to shake his hand.
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“I want you to wear it when you're here.” Devon said, already unclipping the pin. “Marketing!”
Noah looked physically ill. “Devon. Please. No. People are already talking to me non-stop.”
“Exactly!” Devon beamed. “Now they’ll have something to talk about.”
Liam, who had clocked Noah’s full-body cringe immediately, turned toward Devon with a big, helpful smile, eyes gleaming.
“Honestly,” he said, voice thick with mock sincerity, “I feel safer already.”
Noah’s head snapped toward him.
“Like,” Liam continued, laying it on, “just knowing our local hero is recognized…? Kind of puts me at ease.”
“I will end you.”
“I mean, he threw himself in front of danger,” Liam said, louder now, for anyone nearby. “He deserves to be honored.”
Devon was practically glowing. “And it's good for business!”
He reached forward to clip the medal to Noah’s hoodie. Noah backed up again.
“Devon, I swear—this is cringe as fuck.”
“It comes with a cash bonus.”
Noah froze.
Pondered.
Then, he sighed: “…Where do I clip it?”
Devon clipped it just above his chest. It dangled awkwardly. Lopsided.
Liam watched the whole thing unfold like it was the best movie ever made.
The next day, the medal was still on his hoodie.
Claire noticed it before anything else.
“Is he actually wearing that?” she asked, eyebrows up.
Liam, who’d just dropped into the seat next to her with his shake, didn’t even bother looking up. “He’s contractually obligated. There’s probably a clause about it in the bonus.”
Claire snorted. “It’s kinda cute, though.”
“Don’t let him hear that. He’ll die.”
She grinned. “How’s he doing?”
Liam shrugged. “Still impossible. Physically okay though.”
Then she reached across the small table—light, casual—and touched his hand.
“And you?”
Liam blinked.
It wasn’t a big gesture. Just a quick, warm squeeze. But his skin still lit up like she’d pressed a match to it.
He glanced at her, felt his face heat.
“I'm fine now, yeah.”
They were sitting just off the floor, tucked in a quiet corner of the gym. Claire had her notebook out—something about programming lifts—and Liam was halfway through pretending he knew what macros were when Noah walked over.
“Well, well,” he said, looking between them. “You two are getting chummy.”
Claire smiled. “We’re just talking.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Jealous?”
“Of Claire?” Noah said, deadpan. “She benches more than you.”
Claire laughed.
Noah just smirked and set a bottle down in front of Liam like it was nothing. The shake was cold, slightly frosted, Liam’s favorite brand of dramatic beige.
“Here,” Noah said. “That’s today’s blend.”
Claire blinked. “Wait… what?”
Liam picked it up. “Oh. Yeah. He’s been making me custom protein shakes.”
Noah folded his arms, winked. “Secret ingredients and everything.”
Then he flopped into the seat across from them, cast thudding gently against the table. “Anyway. Being a local hero has its perks.”
Liam made a noise. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Noah said, already looking past them. “See that girl over there?”
He nodded toward a girl at the squat rack. Tall, brunette, absolute gym crush energy.
Liam followed his gaze, confused for half a second—until Noah said it:
“Dani. Finally got her to agree to go out. I’ve been trying to hit that for months.”
Claire raised her brows. “Really now?”
“She doesn’t date younger guys,” Noah said casually. “Or didn’t. I think getting stabbed made me seem mature.”
Liam frowned. “That’s… not how age works.”
“Sure it is,” Noah said, turning slightly toward him, grinning. “Trauma adds years. I'm basically thirty-five now. Emotionally.”
Claire gave a soft, skeptical laugh.
Noah went on, undeterred. “She used to call me a ‘gym baby.’ Now? She’s into the whole tragic-hero vibe. Said she wants to 'get to know me better.'” He made air quotes. “Translation: I’m getting laid.”
Liam shifted in his seat. “Well, how old is she?”
“Anyway,” he ignored the question, pushing himself up. “Friday, I’m showing her just how big she's been missing.” He smirked.
He paused.
Then, to Liam—only to Liam.
“She’s your age, by the way.” Grinning.
Buzz-buzz.
A low hum against the table.
Noah’s phone sat between Claire’s notes, screen lit.
Liam glanced down.
“Old Man” followed by a football emoji
That’s what it said.
Liam looked up just in time to see it:
Noah’s face—completely drained of color.
He snatched the phone up so fast it startled them both.
Claire raised an eyebrow.
“Another perk of being a local hero?”
Noah didn’t answer right away.
“Yeah, yeah.”
His voice sounded off.
He pressed the phone to his ear and turned away, already walking away, tension coiled through his shoulders. He didn’t speak. Just nodded slowly as the call connected, whatever his father was saying must’ve been serious.
Liam watched him go.
He was still staring at the spot Noah had just vacated when Claire spoke again.
“You always do that.”
He blinked. “Do what?”
“Tense up. Whenever he’s around.”
Liam frowned. “I don’t—”
“You do,” she said gently. Not accusing, just… noticing. “I mean, it’s not like I blame you. He’s a lot.”
Liam shifted, face tightening. “He’s not that bad.”
Claire raised a brow. “Do you remember what you said about him yesterday?”
“That was a joke,” he shot back—too fast, too defensive.
She didn’t reply, just kept looking at him.
He exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. He’s just… Noah.”
Claire nodded slowly, still watching him. “Yeah. I see that.”
She leaned in a little, voice quieter. “But you do change around him.”
Liam said nothing. His jaw was tight now, shoulders stiff.
Claire went on, quieter. “The first night we met—me, you, Ashley, and him? I remember thinking something was off.”
He glanced at her.
“I thought you just acted like that,” she said. “...tense. But then we've been going out for a while now and I know you're not normally like that.”
“And then there was that other night,” she added. “When we had a date.”
He looked over, slow.
She nodded. “Noah was at your place when I got there. Just hanging out. He left after a while, but the whole night—you were still… weird. Like, even weirder than usual.”
He scoffed. “Is this about Ashley?”
Claire blinked. “What?”
“Well… You’re her friend… And you know they’re on and off or whatever. Is that why you’re suddenly interrogating me?”
Her mouth parted, stunned. Then she pulled her hand back, hurt slipping in.
“I’m not interrogating you, Liam” she said. “I’m worried about you.”
Liam’s throat tightened.
Claire looked down, then reached across again—slower this time—and rested her hand gently over his.
“That’s it,” she said, quiet. “That’s the whole reason.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” he paused, then muttered. “That was really shitty.”
Claire didn’t soften, but she nodded.
Liam looked down at the table, then—quietly—said, “I’ve never had a lot of friends. Especially not guys. I don’t know… Noah’s cool. And he—he saved my life.”
Claire watched him for a long moment. “No. Yeah, that’s fair. I’m sorry…”
Then, finally, she smiled again.
“But still,” she added, voice low. “Be careful, okay? You never really know people until it’s too late. And I get the impression… he’s really intense.”
Liam nodded slowly—almost to himself.
And even as she started talking about something else, his thoughts were still stuck on Noah.
The look in his eyes.
The smirk.
The way he moved, touched, controlled.
Claire was right.
Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.
The bar wasn’t crowded yet—too early for that. A few scattered tables were filled, some light music playing over the speakers, and the sun was still dripping lazily through the windows like honey. The kind of Friday hour that felt like it could stretch forever.
“She bailed,” he said flatly.
Liam blinked. “Seriously?”
Noah nodded, not even looking up. “Texted like an hour ago. Said something came up.”
“That’s rough,” Liam offered, not entirely sounding sorry.
Noah shrugged. “Whatever. Her loss.”
“Man,” Noah exhaled, leaning back with a satisfied groan. "They should bottle this feeling. Friday, cold drink, no clients yelling at me to fix their squat form."
Liam snorted. "You do fix their squat form. By yelling."
"Yeah, but mine is constructive yelling."
Noah was in a t-shirt that clung to him in all the stupidly unfair ways it always did. His immobilized hand resting on his thighs.
Liam leaned back and glanced at the window. He hadn’t realized how bright it still was outside. It was the kind of golden light that made you forget anything was waiting for you after.
Noah took another sip, then grinned. "Alright. Tell me how Connor humiliated himself this week. I need to feel superior."
Liam laughed. “Oh, dude. You’re gonna love this.”
Liam sipped his drink, already smiling. “So Connor—genius that he is—forgot his badge again. Which, fine, happens. But instead of calling downstairs like a normal person, he tried to scale the side gate. In loafers.”
Noah blinked. “You’re making that up.”
“Swear to God. Caught his pant leg, ate shit on the pavement, and still walked in like he meant to.”
Noah wheezed out a laugh. “Okay, I respect the commitment to delusion.”
“It’s his whole personality.”
Noah leaned forward, chin on his hand. “And what about your other friend? Still pretending he’s not into that girl from IT?”
“Ian? Oh, full denial. They’re basically married now, but if you ask, they ‘just vibe well.’” Liam made air quotes.
Noah smirked. “Coward.”
“Oh yeah.” Liam snorted. “And there’s more.”
Noah raised a brow, interested. “Oh?”
“There’s this woman at work—Esther. Very flirty, like very. I think.” He scratched the side of his jaw. “And she’s like… fifty?”
Noah leaned back, eyes narrowing in amusement. “The name alone…”
“I know right,” Liam muttered. “She compliments my shirts a lot.”
“That’s it?” Noah scoffed. “Bro, show up in slacks next week and she tells you they’re flattering? You’re done. She’ll have you on a leash.”
He leaned in, lazy grin curling at the edge of his mouth. “She probably likes your whole quiet-boy-with-pretty-eyes vibe.”
Liam blinked. “Fuck off.”
Noah sipped, not looking away. “It’s a power thing.”
Liam scoffed. “Okay?”
Noah’s smirk deepened, but not like before. It was slower. Sharper. “Just saying. She probably thinks you’re trainable.”
Liam opened his mouth. Closed it again.
Something about that word—trainable—made his skin crawl. He knew it was a joke. Sort of. But the way Noah said it felt too specific. Like it wasn’t really about Esther. Not with how things had been between them lately.
He laughed, too loud. “Right. That’s the dream. To be someone’s little pet.”
Noah didn’t laugh with him. Just tapped his glass once and smirked. Then, without looking:
“ Some people kind of… lean into it.”
Liam stiffened. Blinked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Noah met his eyes. Shrugged, unfazed. “Nothing. Just talking.”
But Liam knew that tone. That poke. And the fact that Noah didn’t clarify? Didn’t smile or soften it? That said enough.
The air around them changed.
Liam looked away again, jaw tense. Out the window, into the same golden light. It still looked the same—but it didn’t feel warm anymore.
Claire’s voice, unwelcome and echoing:
He’s really intense.
He exhaled through his nose. Tried to reset.
Liam looked at him—just a flicker. The smile on Noah’s face didn’t quite reach his eyes.
A few minutes passed. The noise in the bar rose a little, more people trickling in with the fading light. Liam was halfway through another sip when a voice cut in from beside their booth.
“Hey, sorry—are you… gym-Noah?” He said, then went on, offering a meaty hand for a shake. “I’m Gordo…”
They both looked up.
Some guy stood there—maybe in his 40s/ 50s, sturdy as hell in a snug polo and jeans, built like someone who didn’t just walk into a room but settled into it. Blonde beard, blue eyes.
Noah’s expression shut down in real time.
“Nope,” he said flatly, already glancing away. “Wrong guy.”
“Oh—I thought—sorry, man. Someone told me you worked at IronLucky and—”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
There was no smile. No charm. Just a wall.
The guy muttered an apology and wandered off.
Noah rolled his eyes hard and slumped back in his seat, grabbing his drink with a sharp motion. “Jesus Christ.”
Liam blinked.
Noah gestured vaguely. “That’s the third time this week. I swear if one more person calls me a ‘local hero,’ I’m moving to Canada.”
Liam frowned, still watching him. “You could’ve just said ‘yeah’.”
“Why?” Noah took a sip. “So I can hear about how brave I am again? Pass.”
Liam tilted his head. “That guy didn’t even say that.”
Noah didn’t reply.
Just looked away, jaw tight. Then muttered, “You wouldn’t get it.”
And Liam felt it—that same shift again.
Like there were two conversations happening: the one with words, and the one underneath, where Noah’s armor rattled like it didn’t quite fit anymore.
The dynamic meandered a bit after that. Less punch, less rhythm. Liam was still trying to find his footing again, like the tempo had shifted and no one told him the new beat.
Noah looked at his phone mid-sentence, thumb flicking across the screen. Then he stood up.
“I’m tired. I’m gonna head out.”
Liam blinked. “Oh. Yeah, okay.”
Noah tossed some cash on the table for his drink. “Later, man.”
And just like that, he was walking off—shoulders loose, head down, hands in his pockets. No final look. No snarky remark. Just gone.
Liam stayed in his seat. Sipped the last of his beer. Told himself he wasn’t reading into it.
After a while he noticed the jacket.
It was hanging off the back of Noah’s chair, half-fallen.
He picked it up, thumb brushing the fabric—soft, worn in. Familiar.
Probably not a big deal. He’d just bring it to the gym tomorrow.
Noah was halfway home by now anyway.
But just as Liam was heading out, his phone buzzed.
[Noah: left my jacket. bring it to mine?]
[Noah:pls]
[Liam: im heading home. can’t i just give it to you tomorrow at the gym?]
A bubble popped up immediately. Noah was already typing.
[Noah: nah i need it tonight]
[Liam: for what? it’s like 20 degrees out]
[Noah:it’s my favorite one i’m cold. don’t be mean]
Liam huffed a short laugh through his nose. Looked down at the jacket in his hand like it was a damn metaphor.
Paused.
[Liam: fine.]
And started walking.
Liam pushed open the gate and stepped into Noah’s front yard. The porch light was on.
He climbed the steps.
Noah’s newest message was still open on his phone:
[Noah: door’s open. just get up here]
[Noah: bedroom. don’t yell my name like a psycho]
The front door creaked as he pushed it open.
Inside, it was quiet. Still warm with the heat of the day, and dim enough that he had to blink to adjust. Liam stepped in slowly, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.
He looked up.
The stairs loomed in front of him—dark wood, a little warped.
The jacket was still draped over his arm.
At the top of the stairs, the hallway stretched out in front of him. The bedroom door was half-open. Warm light spilling out.
There it was.
A soft noise—distant, muffled. Like something shifted. A breath. A murmur. A low laugh. Female.
Liam blinked. Then kept walking.
What… the fuck?
And then—
Noah’s voice.
Low. Confident. Cruel in how casual it sounded.
He shouldn't be here. Should leave the jacket on a chair and get the hell out. But his legs were moving before his thoughts caught up, pulling him closer, slow, silent, toward the half-open bedroom door. Low music was playing.
Liam saw them.
It was the girl Noah had mentioned. His age. Dani.
The one he said had bailed.
She was sitting near the edge of the bed, legs slightly apart, back straight, hands resting in her lap. A red blindfold was tied snugly across her eyes. Her breath was light. Expectant.
Noah was crouched in front of her, shirtless, cast still on, the other hand resting on her knee. His head was tilted down at her crotch. She moaned.
Liam stood frozen in the doorway.
Noah rose.
Slow. Deliberate.
His bare chest came into view first—broad, lean, sweaty.
Then the rest.
His sweats were shoved down to his knees.
He was hard.
Thick, flushed, arching up against his stomach with no shame. It was pulsing up and down in front of the girl’s face.
And that’s when it happened.
He turned his head.
Not by accident. Not by a fucking mile.
Like he’d felt Liam there—just standing in the hallway, caught in the dark.
Noah’s eyes met his.
Deliberate. Direct. Like a hand around his throat.
Liam didn’t breathe.
Noah didn’t speak.
He just looked at him.
Right at him.
Eyes dark. Unblinking.
And then—still staring.
"You feel how wet you are for me?" he said, to the girl, hands on her hair.
But his eyes were on Liam.
And Liam dropped the jacket.
Noah stepped in close—slow, deliberate. His hand curled loosely in her hair, not pulling, just holding. Looking at her now.
Then he shifted his hips.
Soft at first.
A light tap of his cock against her cheek. Then another.
A wetter sound, a gleeful little gasp from her.
He tapped her again, firmer. Then one more time harder.
And only then did he look at Liam again.
Noah’s voice dropped, low and velvet-dark:
“Use your mouth, baby. Make it messy.”
The sound of her breath hitching hit the air. The quiet wet sound of lips parting.
Liam didn’t breathe.
Couldn’t.
He stood there frozen, half-shadowed in the hallway light, Noah’s jacket on top of his foot like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
The girl’s soft, eager sounds filled the room—wet and rhythmic, muffled by Noah's cock sliding in and out of her mouth. Her blindfold hadn’t slipped. She had no idea he was even there.
But Noah did.
He was still watching him.
Liam’s heart kicked against his ribs hard enough to make him sway. His legs wanted to move—backward, forward, anywhere—but they wouldn’t. They stayed rooted to the floor like his body had staged a quiet mutiny.
And leading the charge was his dick.
Hard. Throbbing.
It pulsed against the inside of his jeans with humiliating certainty, like it had made up its mind long before he had. Like it was siding with Noah now—dragging the rest of him along for the ride whether he liked it or not.
Noah’s breath caught, sharp and amused.
Noah shifted slightly, never breaking eye contact. The girl was still attached to him—eager, needy, sucking him like she was starved—but his attention was elsewhere.
He smirked.
Then, slow and deliberate, Noah reached behind him and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. His other hand slid into the girl’s hair, gently guiding her, eyes never leaving Liam’s. Encouraging her sporadically.
A second later, Liam felt it—his phone buzzing in his pocket.
He still didn’t move at first. Every muscle in his body locked up, too rigid with disbelief… and arousal.
But the vibration came again.
With trembling fingers, he finally pulled it out and glanced down.
[Noah: u r hard]
[Noah: lmao]
Not a question.
A statement.
Liam looked up slowly, like his bones were made of wet concrete. Noah met his eyes—dark, low-lidded, knowing. And he gave a small, useless shake of his head—like denial could cancel the heat throbbing in his jeans.
And then, another buzz.
[Noah: o yea? prove it]
Noah watched.
Waited.
Jaw tight. Breathing steady, but eyes sharp now—less amused, more impatient.
Liam tugged his pants down an inch. Then stopped again.
And that was when Noah’s mouth twisted.
His hand curled tighter in the girl’s hair.
He tilted his head, voice low—but clipped this time. Like he was done waiting.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Faster, baby!”
The girl moaned, eager.
But he’s locked on Liam. That smirk—that dare—makes Liam’s throat go dry. He hesitates. His fingers twitch around the waistband of his sweats. He shouldn’t. God, he shouldn’t—
But Noah lifts his chin a little. Like: well?
And Liam just… obeys.
He pushes them down in one sharp, guilty movement, the fabric whispering around his ankles.Cock slapped on his abs, rock hard. Leaking at the head
Noah’s hips keep moving—slow, deliberate, a rhythm that pulls him in and out of her mouth with maddening ease. She moans a little around him, clearly loving it, her hands curling against his thighs like she’s trying to keep him there.
And then—without breaking pace—he lifts his right hand.
The motion is lazy, almost casual. Two fingers and a thumb, curling and stroking the air like he’s miming it. Like he’s inviting Liam. No—commanding him. Stroke it. The meaning is unmistakable.
Liam’s heart lurches.
His cock jumps. But Noah’s gaze sharpens like he’s waiting—watching—like he owns every second of Liam’s hesitation.
The girl lets out a pleased little hum around Noah’s slick cock, completely unaware of the show she’s part of.
And Noah?
Noah just smirks—and crooks his fingers again. Do it.
.
Liam’s hand moves like it’s not his.
Like he’s caught in some trance, pulled under by a string wrapped around his wrist. There’s no defiance left, no frantic voice screaming don’t do it. Just heat.
He wraps his hand around his throbbing cock—slowly, shakily—and gives one small stroke. He breathes out like it hurts. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, guilt lapping at his ribs, but Noah’s eyes don’t let him drown.
And he nods. Just once. Just a little dip of his chin, paired with a crooked smirk that says ‘good boy’ without needing the words.
Then—suddenly—Noah looks away.
Back down at the girl.
His hand tangles deeper into her hair as he rocks into her mouth with a quiet sigh. Like he’s watching how much he owns her too.
But then Noah pulls out, slides his cock against her lips, and brings his good hand to her tits. Thumbs teasing over her nipples, dragging soft whines from her throat.
He leans down. Close to her ear. His lips hover just above her skin, warm breath making her shiver.
But his gaze?
Burying itself on Liam, once again.
“You like it when I play with your tits like this, huh?” He murmurs, voice low and thick.
Fuck.
She nods eagerly, humming around a little moan. Unaware she’s background noise in a different conversation. No clue Noah’s real audience is standing a few feet away, pants around his ankles, hand trembling over a flushed, leaking cock.
Liam’s strokes are quick now—too quick—his fist jerking his cock with an urgency that betrays him.The head of his cock is swollen, plastic red, and glistening with slick. A gush of pre-cum swells at the slit, then another, until it spills over and drips messily down his shaft.
It’s obscene. Unfair, even. Like his body likes to be watched. Wants to be seen.
And Noah does. He sees everything. Every humiliating twitch.
She pulls off Noah’s cock with a wet pop, breathless and giggling.
“God—fuck me already,” she pants, reaching for his hips. “Please. I want you inside me. Now.”
Noah tilts his head down, just slightly, eyes twinkling.
“Aww, baby girl... you wanna be fucked?” condescension dripping from him. “Wanna feel my big cock stretching your insides?”
She moans, nodding, biting her lip like it’s the filthiest compliment she’s ever gotten.
And Liam’s still pumping himself, silently, like a broken machine that doesn’t know how to stop.
The girl starts tugging at Noah’s hips, begging again. “Yes—please, yes,” she gasps, arching on the bed.
Noah’s already reaching for his phone with his free hand. One thumb, fast, not even looking down. She doesn’t notice.
Liam’s phone buzzes in his other hand.
He looks down—just for a second—and reads:
[Noah: want see m dick go in?]
Liam didn’t even hesitate this time.
He nodded immediately. Not at Noah. Not at anything human. He nodded at the glowing screen like it was divine. His hand was still wrapped around his cock, sloppy with his own pre-cum, trembling from how long he’d been stroking, but that small, desperate nod came instantly. Automatic. Like surrender had become muscle memory.
Another buzz.
[Noah: come here]
Liam’s legs moved. He stepped out from behind the door, dragging his pants along his ankles, cock bobbing in the cold air. His chest rose too fast. His cheeks burned. The music thumped low from the speaker by the bed—sensual, hypnotic.
Noah didn’t speak. Didn’t even acknowledge him walking.
Instead, he turned back to the girl, who was sprawled on the mattress with her thighs still parted and her lips swollen with spit. Adjusting her own blindfold.
“Turn over,” he said—soft, coaxing, a voice Liam had only heard when he wasn’t the one being spoken to.
She obeyed without hesitation, flipping onto all fours, ass high. Noah’s hands guided her effortlessly to the edge of the bed—right beside the speaker, where the music was deepest, the bass buzzing against the wooden frame.
Then, casually—like it meant nothing—Noah reached over and turned the volume up a notch.
Just enough to swallow sound.
Liam came closer, legs stiff, skin flushed all over. He stepped quietly until he was beside Noah, the mattress right in front of them, the girl already on all fours, her back arched and waiting.
Liam stood there, awkward and naked from the waist down, his cock still wet and twitching, breath shallow as he looked anywhere—anywhere but at Noah.
“Kneel.” His voice was calm. Quiet. Controlled.
And it didn’t sound like a suggestion.
Liam paused—just for a second.
He knelt beside her, directly to her right.
And Noah looked at him.
Briefly.
Like he was checking that everything was exactly where it belonged.
And Liam—on his knees, flushed, hard, breathing like he might pass out—was exactly that.
Noah shifted his stance, and without a word, slapped his cock against Liam’s cheek. Once. Then again. Then again.
Liam didn’t even flinch. Just took it.
He just breathed. Fast. Shaky. His cock stood stiff between his thighs, untouched and leaking, as if it couldn’t tell the difference between pleasure and shame anymore.
“Spit on it.” Noah said.
Liam obeyed.
A thick string of spit slipped from his mouth, landing across Noah’s veiny cock and sliding down with the heat of something earned. Noah stroked once, lazily, letting the mix of slick and saliva coat him, before turning his attention back to the girl.
She was already in place—on all fours, back arched, skin flushed, breath ragged.
Noah guided his cock between her thighs, dragged it through the mess there, lined himself up.
“You ready, baby?” He murmured, casually.
And from opposite sides of the bed—one kneeling and wrecked, the other needy and eager—
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Yes,” Liam whispered.
And the moment Liam heard himself, heard that come out of his own mouth, his stomach twisted—but it was too late. Noah was already pushing forward, sliding in with a slow, deliberate thrust, filling her with a deep groan and the thick sound of skin meeting skin.
Liam didn’t blink.
He was mesmerized.
And the sound Noah made—Jesus, the sound—wasn’t loud, but it cut through everything.
“Fffffuck…—nnnhhh”
It started low in his throat, breaking around the edges, then deepened into something filthier—almost a growl, like he was losing control for just a second.
And Liam felt his whole body seize.
Because he knew that sound.
Shit.
That was the same fucking noise Noah made when they were… fucking around. The same timing, the same tightness in his voice, the same slip of vulnerability he pretended not to have.
And then she moaned.
Loud.
High and breathy, hips pushing back against Noah with a sudden neediness that made the mattress creak. It hit Liam’s ears sharp and fast, and for a second, he flinched—actually flinched—like he’d forgotten she was there.
He just gripped the girl’s hips tighter, knuckles pale with pressure, and started to move. Slow at first—deep, anchoring thrusts that made her gasp into the mattress. Then faster. Rougher.
She moaned louder now, head turned to the side, cheek pressed to the sheets, eyes fluttering, supposedly.
And Noah started talking.
Not sweet. Not gentle. Just low and filthy.
“That’s it… take it all, baby… fuck, you’re so wet.”
His voice curled around the words like it enjoyed saying them.
“God, you look so fucking pretty when I fuck you like this… does it feel good when I stretch you open, baby girl?”
Liam’s breath hitched. His hand moved faster.
He was still kneeling, still jerking himself with quick, shame-slick strokes, his knuckles brushing his abs, his cock flushed and leaking across his fingers like it didn’t care who it was for anymore.
He couldn’t stop watching.
Noah’s back flexed with each thrust, his grip brutal, his voice smoother now—deeper, filthier, laced with the kind of affection that sounded earned.
“You like that cock, baby? Say you want it harder.”
She whimpered something, incoherent and eager, and Noah gave it to her—harder, louder, relentless.
Liam’s jaw clenched. His toes curled against the floor. His strokes turned messy, erratic.
Noah didn’t slow down.
If anything, he picked up the pace—hips snapping hard and precise, dragging ragged moans from her with every thrust. But his eyes, for the first time in minutes, flicked back to Liam.
And then he whispered—barely audible under the hum of music and breathless gasps:
“Hey.”
Liam’s head jerked toward him, dazed.
“Stand.”
Liam hesitated.
“Come here.”
He rose slowly, knees sore, thighs trembling. His cock bobbed between them, flushed and wet, still twitching from the friction he’d abandoned. He stepped closer, heart pounding, breath shallow.
Noah didn’t stop fucking her even for a second.
He simply lifted his right arm, smooth and effortless, and slung it across Liam’s shoulders—like they were watching a movie together. Like they were sharing popcorn.
The weight of his forearm pressed against the back of Liam’s neck, warm and solid, pulling him just slightly closer.
Then, without looking at him, Noah asked:
“You enjoying yourself?”
Liam swallowed hard.
“Dude—” he stammered, voice cracking. “Sh-she’s gonna hear us…”
Noah let out a short, disinterested laugh. Not cruel—just amused. Like Liam had said something cute and stupid.
“Nah,” he muttered, grinning. “This is what happens when my cock is inside people. They get dick-drunk, they lose their fucking minds.”
He nodded at her, still bent over, still moaning into the sheets like she didn’t have a single thought left.
“Look at her.”
Liam did.
She was gone. Like truly. Mouth open, arms shaking from the force of each thrust. She wasn’t listening. She wasn’t anywhere. Just floating, wrecked, happy. Full of Noah.
Noah’s arm was still draped around Liam’s shoulders, warm and heavy, pulling him just close enough to feel owned.
Noah leaned in again.
“So… enjoying yourself?”
Liam hesitated.
His throat worked around the answer, eyes flicking toward the bed, then back—up into Noah’s.
“...Yeah…” he muttered. Like it tasted strange in his mouth.
Noah grinned. Cruel.
“Wanna see something fun?”
Liam blinked. Confused.
He nodded anyway.
“Uh… yeah.”
Noah didn’t say a word.
He just shifted—his stance widening slightly, the arm around Liam tightening for balance as he angled his hips lower, pulling his cock out almost completely, changing the tilt of his thrust. A subtle angular adjustment. Barely noticeable. He paused.
Then he pushed his entire cock in. Single thrust. Merciless.
She screamed.
Not words—just a high, broken gasp, like her body had been shocked from the inside. Her arms buckled. Her hips jerked. She pressed her face to the mattress and moaned like she was high.
Noah chuckled. Low. Pleased as he kept slamming into her.
Liam stood beside him, wide-eyed, breathing hard, heart pounding like he was the one being split open.
She was a mess now—moaning helplessly, legs trembling like she couldn’t take another second.
Noah’s arm stayed heavy across Liam’s shoulders as he kept fucking her, he could feel Noah’s damp armpit rubbing on his shoulder, unbothered, unhurried, the sound of skin on skin loud enough to drown most thoughts—except the one Noah dropped into Liam’s ear like a trap.
“You ever made anyone lose it like that?”
Liam didn’t answer.
He stared forward, cock in his hand, breathing shallow, his mind spiraling fast and low.
Noah let the silence stretch a little longer.
“Hey.” He said it again—quieter this time. “You ever made someone lose it like that?”
Liam swallowed. His lips parted. The word scraped out raw.
“No.”
Noah grinned.
That smug, lazy kind of grin that made Liam want to shrink into the floor—and come from it. He gave a slow little laugh, not cruel, just casual, like Liam’s answer had only confirmed something obvious.
“Yeah,” Noah said, voice low and almost gentle. “Didn’t think so.”
Then he thrust harder, dragging another broken moan from her chest. Liam flinched. His cock twitched. He didn’t stop jerking.
“S’alright,” Noah went on, like he was doing him a favor. “You’re not built for that kind of thing, little buddy.”
He looked down at Liam’s hand, still working his cock like it was the only thing he had left.
Liam felt tiny.
Noah’s words still echoed in his skull. It should’ve made him furious. It should’ve made him leave.
But his cock pulsed in his fist, twitching with every sound, every thrust Noah drove into her. The shame had soaked into his skin now—his chest flushed, his neck damp with Noah’s sweat, and his cock head leaking like it couldn’t tell the difference between humiliation and praise.
He tried to say something. Anything. Some kind of pushback. But all that came out was:
“I… I’m still good at other things…”
It was weak. Desperate. Like a student trying to defend a failed grade.
Noah didn’t stop pounding.
But he turned his head just slightly, eyes half-lidded, that lazy grin spreading across his face—so full of fake sweetness it made Liam’s stomach twist.
He looked at him like a kid who just said “I drew this for you.”
Like he wanted to ruffle his hair and say good job, buddy.
“Yeah? I know you are.” Noah murmured, voice dripping with condescension. “You’ve got… other talents.”
The way he said it—calm, smooth, casual—sounded harmless. Like a compliment.
But Liam knew exactly what he meant.
Liam’s hand worked faster now, slick and shaky, like he was trying to finish before he broke apart. His thighs trembled. His face was flushed to the tips of his ears.
And still Noah kept fucking her.
He was clearly enjoying putting on a show.
“You like that, baby girl?” Noah murmured, loud enough for Liam to hear too. “You gonna cum just from me using you?”
She gasped something that sounded like yes, her voice shredded, body jolting beneath him. Noah grunted, sharp and low, thrusting harder.
Liam watched Noah’s cock sink into her again and again, watched her melt around it, watched his arm flex, his back arch, his expression twist in that exact same way it had with him—back when it was his mouth making Noah sound like that. It felt messed up.
His knees felt weak. His cock ached.
And then Noah looked at him again. Calm. Unbothered.
“Wanna watch me make her cum?”
Liam’s breath caught in his throat.
He nodded. Small. Quick. Like it was the most honest thing he’d ever done.
Noah didn’t respond.
Didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease. Didn’t say anything at all.
He just turned back to her.
Shifted his weight again. Gripped her hips a little tighter. Adjusted his rhythm into something deeper, dirtier—every thrust of his thick cock angled with purpose now, deliberate and ruthless, chasing one specific goal.
She felt it instantly.
Her hands clawed at the sheets, breath hitching, spine arching like she was being pulled from the inside out. She sobbed his name, her voice high and breaking.
“Oh my god—Noah—Noah, fuck, I’m gonna—”
He just fucked her through it—hard, unrelenting, like he was dragging the orgasm out of her whether she could take it or not.
“Yeah, you are.” He chuckled.
Liam watched.
Watched her come apart. Watched Noah hold her steady through the shaking. Watched the way his hips didn’t slow, didn’t pity, didn’t care.
And Noah was looking at him like yeah—I’m doing that.
Liam stood there, stroking, his body trembling with tension. He felt small. Overwhelmed. Useless. And harder than he’d ever been in his life.
What kind of power was that?
To make her cum like that—on command.
While laughing. While barely trying.
Like it was nothing.
What the fuck.
The girl was still gasping, limp across the bed, her whole body twitching with the aftershocks.
Liam stood there, dazed, cock throbbing in his hand, skin flushed and feverish like he’d been hit by a truck made of want.
And then Noah turned to him.
Casual. Calm. Sweaty and glowing like a god.
“Get the fuck out.”
Liam blinked. “What—?”
“She’s gonna sober up in like a minute,” Noah said, like he was pointing out the weather. “Go wait in my parents’ room. No one’s home.”
Liam didn’t move.
Noah stepped closer, still inside her, still lazily rolling his hips, and said it quieter—flat, direct:
“And don’t you fucking cum.”
The words hit harder than any shove.
Liam swallowed. Nodded. Pulled up his pants with shaking hands and turned toward the hallway like a kicked dog. His cock was still rock hard in his briefs, soaked with pre-cum, aching so bad it made his spine curl.
He closed the door behind him and stood in the dark of the next room. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run miles. His hand hovered near his waistband.
He didn’t dare.
From across the house, muffled and half-lost in the walls, he heard her laugh—a breathy little giggle—and say, soft and sweet:
“You’re the best I’ve ever had.”
Liam listened.
And then Noah’s voice, smooth as honey:
“Yeah, I know, baby.”
Liam sat on the edge of the bed in Noah’s parents’ room, fists clenched in his lap.
And then he heard her voice.
Soft. Sweet. Still breathless.
“I should go…”
She didn’t want to—he could hear it in the way the words dragged.
“Fuck, I don’t want to, but I have this early thing tomorrow…”
Noah’s voice was casual, amused.
“Yeah? Gonna survive without me?”
“Doubt it.”
She laughed—light, infatuated. Like she was still floating.
“You’re actually insane. That thing you did at the end? What the fuck was that?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll dream about it.”
“I will,” she said, and it wasn’t a joke. “I don’t even wanna leave.”
Liam sat frozen. Head bowed. Burning.
He heard Noah shift—clothes rustling, a door creaking open.
“I’ll walk you out.”
Footsteps passed in the hallway. Liam held his breath. The sound of her heels, then Noah’s bare feet. And then—
She paused.
“Wait. What’s that?”
Shit. Liam’s stomach dropped.
There was silence. Too long.
He knew what it was. Noah’s jacket. The one he dropped earlier when Noah told him to ‘come here’.
“Was that here earlier?”
A beat.
And then Noah’s voice again—smooth, low, dismissive.
“Nah. The dog dragged it out. He’s always knocking shit over.”
Another pause.
Then her laugh.
“That’s cute.”
Noah’s tone didn’t change.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
Liam sat frozen, heart pounding, face hot with panic and something else he couldn’t name.
And then he heard the door open.
The soft murmur of goodbye.
And finally—click.
The door closed.
And then he heard Noah’s voice from his room.
“Dude. Get in here.”
Liam swallowed. His legs felt like rubber as he stood.
The room was still thick with heat of what had just happened. And there was Noah—standing by the window, naked, sweat slicked across his chest, skin flushed, cock half-hard and still heavy between his thighs like it had more to say.
Liam stepped in awkwardly, holding the jacket.
“Sorry about that,” he said, nodding toward it. “I didn’t even know you had a dog…”
Noah turned his head lazily, still catching his breath, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion.
“I don’t,” he said smiling. “I have a pet.”
He walked past Liam without waiting for a response, into the bathroom.
“Wait here,” he added, door clicking shut behind him.
Liam stood in the center of the room, jacket dangling from his fingers, his whole body tense with confusion, shame, arousal—everything wrapped into one fucked-up knot.
A minute later, Noah came back out.
Still naked. Still glowing like sex had carved him into something mythological.
He walked across the room and dropped onto the bed.
And then—deadpan, calm—he said:
“Make me cum.”
Liam’s brain stuttered.
“...Wait—I thought you… didn’t you already—?”
Noah huffed a laugh, eyes lidded, dick soft.
“Nah.”
He stretched, flexed his stomach a little, looking up at Liam like this was all so obvious.
“She was too vanilla. Too fucking boring.”
Then he smirked—just slightly.
“Come on, clothes off. I showered from the waist down. I know how you like to stick your face in my pit.”
Noah leaned back against the headboard, arms behind his head, elbows spread wide, exposing both armpits like it was nothing. His skin was still damp, still flushed, the sweat gathered in the hollows of his body like bait.
His legs were open. His cock hung on top of his balls, almost fully soft, twitching lazily, like it knew what was coming.
He looked at Liam—still fully clothed, still standing near the door like he might pretend this wasn’t real—and said, low and smooth:
“Don’t make me say it again.”
As he said it, he lifted one arm higher. Just a slight shift. Like he was stretching.
But it was deliberate.
An offering.
And again—he heard Claire’s voice, sharp and cold, slicing through the heat like a warning from another life.
His head hurt.
His fingers twitched at his sides. His chest rose in a panicked stutter. He turned—just barely. One foot back, body leaning away, like he could still walk out of this if he just moved fast enough.
But… he didn’t.
Because Noah looked and smelled like sex and sweat and something else Liam couldn’t name.
Because every inch of his body ached toward him.
Because it was already too late.
Liam’s hands moved almost on their own.
He peeled off his shirt slowly, arms heavy with tension. Eyes catatonic. Undid his pants. Stepped out of them like he wasn’t sure whether he was dressing down or giving up. Each layer dropped silently to the floor behind him—evidence of his collapse.
He walked forward. Hard cock swinging.
Not fast. Not dramatic.
Just slow. Resigned.
He reached the bed.
And without a word, he leaned in.
Pressed his face into Noah’s armpit like it was instinct.
Like it was fucking home.
Liam’s face was buried in Noah’s armpit, inhaling deep against damp skin, tongue flicking again, slower this time—reverent. His knees dug into the mattress, his hands gripping Noah’s thigh like he needed something to anchor himself.
“Nnnghhh—hummm”
He was hard. So hard it hurt. His cock brushed against the edge of the bed with every breath, leaving wet smears against the sheets.
Noah watched him.
Didn’t touch him.
Didn’t guide him.
Just let him.
Then—low, lazy, almost a whisper—he said:
“God, you’re pathetic.”
Liam froze for half a second—but didn’t pull away.
Noah smirked.
“I let you watch me fuck someone else, and now you’re up here naked, sniffing my armpit like a fucking dog.”
He laughed—quiet, amused, not even trying to be cruel. Just stating facts.
“You don’t even know if I like it when you do that. You’re just hoping I don’t tell you to stop.”
Noah let Liam worship and moan into him for another beat—just long enough for Liam to forget what shame felt like.
Then, finally, he shifted.
“Okay,” he said, voice low and decisive. “Enough of that.”
Liam froze. Pulled back an inch. His lips were slick, chin damp with sweat, eyes glazed and wide like he’d just come out of a trance.
Noah looked down, cock still mostly soft, gleaming against his thigh, and said:
“Make me hard with your mouth and edge yourself.”
Liam’s breath caught.
Noah tilted his head, smirking faintly.
“And keep your eyes on mine the whole time.”
Liam nodded—too fast—and crawled lower, positioning himself between Noah’s legs. His lips brushed against the pulsing base.
He looked up.
Met Noah’s eyes.
And started sucking.
He took the slick head into his mouth, warm and heavy, tongue circling as he sucked softly on the head. No hands. Just lips and pressure, his eyes locked on Noah’s like it was a test. Like if he blinked, it would all disappear.
Noah exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. Staring at Liam.
Liam bobbed lower, taking more, the shaft thickening with every pass—he could feel it growing on his tongue, stretching his lips, Noah’s thick teen cock filling out against his palate like it was claiming space.
There was something so much worse about doing it like this.
Sucking him off was one thing—Liam had done that before. Had dropped to his knees, had let Noah use his mouth like it didn’t matter, like he didn’t matter. But this? With his eyes open—wide and locked onto Noah’s, like he wasn’t allowed to look away—it made everything feel more real. More naked.
He really felt pathetic.
Like a spectacle.
Like a thing.
Every slow drag of his lips, every twitch of his throat, was seen. Nothing was hidden. And the longer he stared up, the more exposed he felt—like Noah could read every thought just by watching his eyes flicker when the cock thickened and precummed into his mouth. He hated how obvious it was. How much he didn’t hate it.
Noah was fully hard now. Thick. Leaking. Veins bulging. Heavy and flushed and ready.
“See, little buddy?” Noah grinned, breath warm, eyes shining with something both smug and sincere. “Isn’t it good to just let go?”
And fuck—it was.
Liam hadn’t realized it until right then, with spit clinging to his chin and his mouth raw from the effort. Edging his own slicked up cock. But yeah. It was good. Shit.
Once again. It happened.
Whatever the fuck was going on—whatever had led them here—there was always this moment, this strange stillness that only came when Liam gave in. When he stopped resisting. When he let Noah tell him what to do.
And once again, just like every other time, he wasn’t thinking. Wasn’t overthinking, second-guessing, drowning in guilt or doubt or whatever else usually clawed at his ribs. He was not in his head.
Everything was quiet now.
No shame. No decisions. Just the taste of Noah’s cock and pre cum on his tongue and the feeling of being seen.
He pulled off slowly, lips swollen, chest rising fast, and looked up—really looked.
“Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse but certain. “It… it feels good.”
Noah blinked, just once.
Something shifted in his face. That grin curved up slower this time, more real.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered, chuckling softly. “Yeah, give in, don’t fight it.”
He let the praise hang in the air like a reward—warm, approving, completely unearned.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he added, reaching down to thumb Liam’s jaw. “See? You’re just helping me out. Bro stuff. I’m having fun with your mouth and you’re having fun with my cock, that’s all.”
Liam flushed.
And went back in.
Slower this time. Hungrier. Not because he was told to, but because it felt right. Like giving up thinking meant doing this. His mouth was warm, steady, devoted—his hands light against Noah’s flexing thighs.
Noah exhaled a shaky breath.
Then—low, amused, almost affectionate:
“You’re making me feel so good, little buddy. So much better than she did.”
His voice was slower now. Lower.
“You’re so adorable trying to fit my cock in your mouth.”
Liam didn’t dare break rhythm.
“Keep edging your tiny dick, ok?” Noah groaned, tilting his hips up slightly. “But don’t fucking cum until I say you can.”
Liam’s eyes fluttered up—and Noah caught them.
“Don’t look away.”
Liam didn’t.
Noah’s chest was rising faster now. Muscles tightening. His voice dropped to a rasp. A giant gush of pre cum came out of Noah’s piss slit.
“You feel that?” he muttered, voice strained but smug. “I’m close.”
Liam moaned around him. He was close as well.
“You gonna take it, baby girl?”
“Gonna swallow my kids? Like a good little cocksleeve?”
“You better fucking not stop now—eyes on me.”
Liam whimpered through his nose, pupils blown wide, tears pricking the corners of his eyes—but he didn’t pull back.
He kept going. Deeper. Smoother.
And Noah lost it.
“Ffffuck—Little buddy—fuck, don’t stoooop—”
His whole body arched. Hips jerked once.
Then again.
“That’s it, that’s iiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIITTt—don’t you fucking dare move—take it. Take my cum.”
The moment crested—his breath hitched, his stomach tightened—and Liam watched it happen. Still staring.
Noah’s eyes fluttered, but never fully closed. His lashes trembled. His brow furrowed just slightly, like he was trying to keep control and losing it second by second. His mouth opened—not wide, not dramatic—just a soft parting of lips, enough for a groan to slip out between clenched teeth.
His whole expression pulled tight.
Like pleasure was dragging his face apart. Masculine but vulnerable.
He came with a guttural groan, hand gripping Liam’s hair, cock pulsing into his mouth—hot, salty, thick—and long. It hit hard. Violent, almost. Like Noah hadn’t let himself cum properly in days. Like this was what he really needed.
The first pulse.
Hot. Sharp. Salty.
Liam felt it before he tasted it—spurting against his tongue, sudden and thick. His eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t expected that—not really. Not like this. He had never really tasted it.
It was warm. Alive.
Bitter at first. Musky. Unmistakable.
The taste of Noah.
He let it sit there a second. Let it coast over his tongue like he was figuring out what it meant.
Then he swallowed. Once. Quiet. Obedient.
And Noah watched his cock pulse and pulse his cum into Liam’s mouth.
Still staring. Still panting. His chest heaving, sweat dripping down the edge of his collarbone, eyes burning with something between satisfaction and something else—something deep.
When it was over, Noah sank back slightly against the headboard, breath shallow, and let his eyes half-close.
And Liam sat back, mouth wet, chest tight, cock untouched—and harder than ever.
Liam pulled back slowly, lips wet and parted, chest rising fast. His mouth still tingled—used, slick, almost sore—but it wasn’t what hurt the most.
His cock throbbed untouched, a river of pre cum flowing against his thigh, so sensitive it felt like it would spill with the wrong breath.
He looked up at Noah—eyes glassy, lashes damp, voice barely more than a whisper:
“I’m gonna cum… ok?”
Noah didn’t answer right away.
He tilted his head, one arm resting behind it, sweat still cooling on his skin, eyes half-lidded as he looked Liam over. His cock was softening now, spent—but his expression was sharper than ever.
“No.”
Just that. Calm. Flat.
Liam blinked. Swallowed hard.
His breath stuttered.
“But… You said—” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I—fuck, I need to—”
Noah raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I can see that.”
He sounded almost amused. Almost fond. But there was no warmth in what came next.
“You cum too easily.”
Liam stared at him.
“That’s the problem,” Noah added. “Claire’s not gonna enjoy that.”
The words hit like a slap. For several reasons.
Noah didn’t let up. “I mean… it’s kinda hard to unload in someone when your dick doesn’t work, right?” He shrugged like he was pointing out the weather. “Maybe that’s why it hasn’t happened yet.”
Liam’s stomach turned. He looked away, jaw tight.
Because—yeah. It was just a thought. But it felt too close to the truth.
Claire.
Her name rang in his head like a cold bell, slicing through the warmth that afternoon had built in him. So sweet... Open. Easy to talk to. Beautiful. He’d laughed. He liked her.
And now… He had been denied cumming. Lying there with his dick still hard, still leaking, twitching against his stomach.
The taste of Noah still faint in the back of his throat.
He swallowed, not sure which version of himself was sadder—this one or the one that was trying to play normal with a girl who didn’t know what he was turning into.
Noah didn’t say it cruelly. Just like it was a fact. Like he was helping.
“So we’re training that out of you.”
Liam let out a shaky breath, desperation bleeding into every line of his face.
“Just this once though—please—I won’t—”
Noah cut him off. Firmer now. More final.
“I said no.”
No apology. No explanation. Full control. Like Liam wasn’t entitled to anything—not even relief.
And Liam—trembling, leaking, humiliated—nodded.
Because what the fuck else could he do?
Noah barely looked at him now. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face, suddenly quieter, slower.
Then he laid back, one arm over his eyes like he’d just run a marathon.
Liam shifted, awkward and naked, trying to gather himself. “I should go.”
Noah didn’t even lift his arm. “No, you’re not.”
Liam blinked. “What?”
“You walked here,” Noah said. “You’re gonna get stabbed for real this time. Just crash, man. And don’t fucking snore.”
Liam opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked at the door. Then at Noah. Then at the sheets.
The day had been a lot. “…Yeah. Okay.”
Liam lay down, leaving a good amount of space between them.
His body was tense. Turned slightly away. Arms pulled in close like he was trying to shrink, to stay out of the way.
Noah shifted. Muttered, “Alexa, lights off,” and the room went dim.
A long moment passed. Still. Quiet.
Then Noah shifted slightly and, without a word, tugged half the blanket over Liam.
Just enough.
Liam stared at the ceiling, heart pounding and cock throbbing still. Thinking.
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