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

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DESK

The weight felt heavier than it should.

Liam exhaled slow, guiding the dumbbells back up with shaky arms. His biceps burned—maybe from the workout, maybe from the tension still twisting in his chest. He didn’t know. He wasn’t even counting reps. Just moving. Going through the motions.

Trying not to think.

But Claire’s voice was still stuck in his head, repeating like a voice-note he hadn’t deleted yet.

“You’re such a good guy, Liam. Honestly. I just feel like… there are things I need to figure out. And maybe you do too…”

He’d nodded at the time. Said he understood. Told her it was okay.

“You’re not doing anything wrong. I just think… I can’t help you with this.”

What the fuck was this, exactly?

“I still wanna be your friend, though. Honestly. Okay?”

Liam had never had a breakup like that before. No tears, no yelling—just… kindness. Too much kindness. The kind that made you feel worse, not better. Like she’d already mourned him before she even sat down.

And the way she’d looked at him—warm, but distant. It felt a little odd.

He moved to sit up—and winced.

His breath caught for half a second, just from the dull ache that radiated up his spine.

That burn.

It was still there.

Noah’s cock had been actually in him just hours before. Still deep inside when Claire texted, even.

He shifted, subtly. Tried to readjust on the bench, but the soreness didn’t go away. If anything, it made it worse.

The reset was for nothing.

She still left.

Maybe that’s why she left.

So something really was wrong. She knew he couldn’t even… perform.

His face burned. He pressed the towel to his forehead, but it didn’t help. His whole body felt wrong.

“Hey, Liam.”

Liam looked up.

Dylan was standing a few feet away, dressed in really small athletic shorts, bulge and all, a sleeveless tee that showed off his ridiculous shoulders. He was holding two water bottles in one hand and a shaker in the other.

“Mind if I hop in?”

Liam hesitated. He didn’t want company. Didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to be seen.

But the words came out anyway:

“Yeah. No problem.”

Dylan smiled, took the bench next to him, cracked one of the waters, and handed over the shake.

“Noah said to give you this. He made it this morning. Said it’s the good stuff.”

Liam blinked at it, then took it. The plastic was still cold from the fridge. He nodded, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip.

Still bitter.

Dylan settled back on the bench like he lived there.

“Man, I don’t know how you deal with that guy.”

Liam blinked. “Who?”

“Shorty! I’ve been crashing at his place a few weeks now. His room reeks like sweaty socks and armpit.”

There was a beat.

Liam didn’t even register what hit him—just a flicker of heat low in his stomach. A sudden, pulsing twitch in his dick.

Are you fucking kidding me?

His face stayed blank, but inside he was spiraling already.

That’s all it takes now? Just someone mentioning sweat and he got half-hard in public? This shit wasn’t right. It wasn’t!

“There’s protein powder in his bed sheets. And I swear to God, I saw him brush his teeth with body wash yesterday.”

Liam half-smiled, more out of reflex than amusement.

“That sounds about right.”

“Dude’s crazy,” Dylan continued, shaking his head with exaggerated disbelief.

Liam cracked a crooked grin, eyes dropping to his half-empty shaker.

“He works out hard. Doesn’t have time to organize, I guess.”

Dylan laughed again, leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

But Liam didn’t laugh with him.

Maybe it’s not that he’s messy. He’s just dealing with too much.

Dylan probably doesn’t even know what’s up. And here he is, acting like Noah’s just lazy.

He took another sip of the shake—longer this time—like it might help.

“He’s been busy,” Liam added, a little too adamant. "He’s not lazy.”

“Nah, he’s just a freak,” Dylan said, standing and stretching his arms overhead. Then, a beat:

“He told me you’re dating a friend of Ashley’s?”

Liam flinched—just a blink, a catch in his breath—but it was there.

He followed Dylan to the leg press, wiping his palms on his shorts like they were sweaty.

“Uh. Not anymore.”

Dylan tossed a plate onto the machine like it was nothing.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry.” He paused.

Liam gave him a strained smile.

“Thanks…”

He slid into the seat and set his feet against the plate. Dylan stood nearby, watching.

“Damn,” Dylan muttered, smiling just slightly.

Liam paused. Looked up.

“What?”

Dylan grinned, leaned against the machine frame with one arm.

“You’re jacked, dude. Like… really.”

Liam’s body tensed like he’d just been slapped.

“You’re messing with me.”

“Nope,” Dylan said, with that same easy shrug. “I just say what I think. You look really fucking good on that machine.”

His legs were bent high, thighs pressing close to his chest, ass parted wide, shorts stretching.

Liam forced a laugh—tight, thin.

He pushed the weight. Too fast.

Dylan smiled again, leaned a little closer—casual and warm.

“Like… someone should probably keep an eye on you.”

Liam blinked.

Wait—was he…?

The weights clanged again.

Is he hitting on me?

Then Dylan said, voice light:

“If you ever feel like experimenting, you’ve got options.”

Oh.

He is hitting on me. That thing outside the bathroom… it wasn’t just the alcohol. He’d really—

Liam looked up.

At Dylan.

Massive. Sculpted. So friendly. The same bone structure as Noah. A taller specimen of the same genetic stock.

And he was smiling at him.

Not just teasing.

Actually nice.

Something caught in Liam’s throat.

Discomfort—Deep.

The way Dylan was just there. Calm and Polite. Hitting on him like it was no big deal. Like it was normal.

And that’s what made it worse.

Dylan wasn’t doing anything wrong.

But he should’ve known Liam wasn’t gay. Right?

This shouldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after getting dumped by an amazing, awesome girl.

He wasn’t fucking gay.

He adjusted his grip on the handles again and pushed, too hard. The metal clanged.

Then, without looking at Dylan:

“…Thanks.” Flat. Barely audible.

A pause. Then, quieter:

“I’m not really… into that.”

Dylan stepped back, hands raised in easy surrender, in a fun sort of way.

“All good, man,” he said, voice light again. “Didn’t mean to make it weird. You’re cool.”

He gave a small shrug, that same effortless calm in his expression.

“Sorry if I… Uh, crossed a line.”

Liam just pushed the weight one more time, slower this round, and let it clank back into place with a low thunk. He sat up, rolling his shoulders.

“So, uh… do you miss home?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward Dylan. “Being at Noah’s place these last few weeks… that can’t be easy.”

Dylan wiped the back of his neck with his shirt—briefly flashing more abdominal muscles than any human needed—and then shrugged, a little smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah. I do, actually. Miss my bed, my routine, even my schizo cat. But… it was probably good timing.”

Liam grabbed his towel, draped it over his neck, and leaned forward.

“Oh? Why?”

Dylan sat beside him, one leg up on the bench, foot propped casually like they were just two buddies catching up.

“My ex and I broke up around the same time. It was kinda messy—like… emotionally complicated.” He gave a soft chuckle.

“I really loved him, you know? Like, I’m the kind of guy who makes breakfast, double-checks their schedule, remembers how they take their coffee.”

He shrugged, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.

“That kind of boyfriend. I love loving someone.”

Liam nodded slowly, not quite knowing what to say.

“But he…” Dylan shook his head. “He was distant. Weirdly avoidant.”

He exhaled, softer now. “I know he loved me. I just don’t think he knew how to let me in.”

Then a grin, quick and disarming.

“Also—he never paid for dinner,” he added. “Not once.”

Liam cracked a faint smile. There was a warmth in Dylan’s voice he hadn’t caught before, something wistful behind the grin.

Dylan bumped his knee lightly against Liam’s.

“Just saying—I know I come off big and strong, but I’m a softie.”

Liam stared at his shaker, swirling the dregs of the shake without drinking it.

It was his turn again. Liam stood up from the leg press and instantly flinched.

His used hole throbbed—low and sudden. It made him gasp.

Dylan noticed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, brows raised, voice low and easy. “You moved like someone stabbed you.”

Liam straightened fast, tried to shake it off with a strained laugh.

“I’m fine. Just… overdid it… yesterday.”

Dylan tilted his head, unconvinced but polite enough not to push.

“Alright, man. Just don’t pop a disc or something.”

“Yeah, I should go…” He paused “Thanks for the shake, though. And the company.”

That was enough human interaction for the day.

Liam grabbed his towel, slung it over his shoulder, and turned before Dylan could say anything else.

His steps were a little stiff as he walked off.

He didn’t look back.

His face was hot again.

---

The A/C was finally doing its job. The usual chick was blessedly silent for once. The overhead lights too bright. The screen in front of Liam blurred for the third time in ten minutes as he stared at it blankly, his brain refusing to focus on the version control issue he was supposed to resolve.

Across the open floor plan, Connor sat in his usual seat, bouncing his leg, clicking away like the world was fine.

Liam hadn’t talked to him since the party. Not like they used to anyway.

He didn’t want to.

Connor had been weird.

Not hostile, not cold—a little too friendly. Too warm. Too familiar. And it had started right after the surprise party. After… that.

Liam swallowed hard, fingers idle over the keyboard.

He’d been under the sheet.

Mouth full of Noah.

It wasn’t like Connor could have known it was him. He was covered.

Liam closed his eyes. Exhaled slowly through his nose.

He needed to get this task done. Which meant talking to Connor.

Which meant pretending nothing was wrong.

With a quiet sigh, he stood and walked over.

Connor noticed him immediately, smile snapping into place like he’d been waiting for the chance.

“Hi! What’s up?” he said, voice enthusiastic—like they were old friends catching up after months instead of coworkers who saw each other every day.

Connor looked exactly like the type of guy who’d greet you like that. Skinny, a little toned but clearly not a gym person. Neat black hair, glasses, freckles, pale skin that practically glowed under office LEDs. Attractive in a harmless way.

Liam kept it all business. “Need to line up the commits before we merge. Figured I’d swing by.”

Connor nodded rapidly. “Yeah, totally, totally. I already pulled the repo—been waiting for you, dude.”

He turned the screen toward Liam, clicking lazily. Their shoulders brushed. Connor didn’t react at all—just kept talking.

Liam didn’t flinch, but then he remembered what Noah had said.

“Dunno. He’s just… been texting me weird shit. Trying to sound chill, but it’s off. Like he’s fishing or something.”

Liam’s stomach pulled tight.

Now—sitting this close, seeing Connor’s eager little glances, how he kept smiling at nothing—it hit different.

“I didn’t know you were that close with the guy…?.”

Liam stilled.

“…Noah?”

His pulse picked up. “Mm?”

Connor shrugged—but it wasn’t a relaxed shrug. More like he was trying to look casual and failing. “You know… at the party. You two seemed… I dunno. Close.”

Close.

Liam stared at the blinking cursor.

He forced a laugh. “Yeah. I guess. He’s just… a gym buddy.”

Connor nodded too fast. “Right, right. I mean—dude had like five girls on him that night. I wish I could do that.”

Liam’s mouth went dry.

Connor kept going, completely oblivious. “You guys must be into some wild shit.”

Liam froze.

He couldn’t tell if Connor knew, or if this was just him saying weird shit again like he always did when he was nervous.

He glanced sideways.

Connor wasn’t leering. Wasn’t smug.

He looked… Curious? Like someone who desperately wanted to be invited into the cool kids’ table.

Maybe to feel included. Maybe to be friends with Noah. It’d explain why he wanted his number.

“Yeah,” Liam said eventually, voice stiff. “Wild.”

Connor laughed again and tapped a few keys. “And like… He’s so cool. We vibed a little that night. He, uh…” Connor scratched his cheek, suddenly self‑conscious. “He reminds me of me a bit. Like… the whole laid‑back thing. You know?”

What the fuck??

No??

Connor didn’t notice his own insanity. He just beamed. “I’d totally hang with him again.”

Liam said nothing.

It looked like Noah really did get a fan and that was that.

Good.

Connor leaned back suddenly and let out a low whistle, like he’d just remembered something critical.

“Oh! You hear people talking about that mystery girl he had under the sheet?”

…Fuck.

Connor kept going, oblivious to the way Liam’s soul left his body.

“Dude, it was sick. Under the sheet and everything.” He giggled—actually giggled. “Me and Ian walked in on them by accident. Bro… I didn’t see much, but whoever she was? She was putting in WORK.”

Liam forced his face to remain neutral.

Connor wasn’t even watching him—just reenacting the event with hand motions like an excited kid at recess.

“Zero shame,” Connor said, impressed. “Like… that level of dedication? That’s relationship material right there. I haven’t had a girl do that to me in like—god, years?”

Liam’s heartbeat sputtered.

Connor kept rambling. “Bet Noah didn’t even remember her name. But the way he just laid back like he was doing her a favor? Such a Chad.”

Liam swallowed hard.

Connor didn’t know.

Did he?

He thought he knew something.

Or didn’t he?

“Crazy night,” Liam said, voice flat.

Connor nodded eagerly. “Right?!”

He smiled like he was genuinely hoping Liam would smile back.

Liam didn’t.

He just pulled up their shared doc, hands trembling, brain white‑noised, wondering why Connor’s eagerness made the whole thing feel even worse.

---

Another day, another spreadsheet. His eyes were still unfocused. Cells blurred. Rows repeated. His brain wouldn’t stick to anything.

At least he’d meditated that morning, which relaxed him by 2%. Maybe even 3%.

Slack ping.

Another.

Then another.

He clicked.

[CONNOR: Ugh, this project is giving me an ulcer lol.]

Liam didn’t reply.

Then a text from Dylan:

[DYLAN: hey man feeling better?]

He didn’t reply either.

His chair creaked as he shifted again, annoyed. His hole was still a little sore.

How long did that stay with you, anyway? That feeling of someone—

He sighed.

His phone buzzed again.

This time, he didn’t even look.

He could still see Dylan’s face in his mind—casual, smiling, all arms and shoulders and teeth.

Did he think Liam was—what? Interested?

No. Liam had made it clear.

He was probably just being friendly.

Across the office, someone was laughing. Connor. Loud, like always. Making rounds again. He lingered too long behind Liam’s chair before walking off.

Liam wasn’t far behind. Just finished what he was doing, logged off, grabbed his bag.

The gym was quieter.

A new shaker bottle was sitting on the corner of his bench.

Still cold.

He stared at it.

Noah had left it there. Quietly. Without a word.

When Liam glanced up, Noah was already halfway across the room—like he hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere. He caught Liam’s eye, gave a small wave and a nod.

Like nothing was wrong.

Like his raw dick hadn’t just been inside Liam.

Like his dad wasn’t—

Liam wanted to tell him so bad. He needed it.

But he couldn’t.

If he realized Liam knew, it’d ruin something between them—Noah didn’t like vulnerability. Didn’t like people knowing he was actually human. Liam knew that at least.

So instead, Liam drank the shake.

Tried not to think about Noah.

Or Dylan.

Or Connor.

Tried not to think about Claire.

But then he thought about Claire.

Tried to stop again.

He looked at her text again.

Still unread.

[CLAIRE: i hope ure okay… still here if you need anything]

Didn’t know how to answer.

He didn’t even know what the hell she meant by “anything.”

It wasn’t anger at her—Claire hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was just… the whole thing. The timing. What she’d said.

He needed to figure what out?

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He was fine. He was!

Everyone else was the problem.

Liam ground his teeth.

No. No, fuck that.

He wasn’t the one acting weird. He wasn’t the one being avoidant or flirty or mysterious or manipulative or crazy.

He went to work. He did his job. He helped people when he was able. He wasn’t the one stringing anybody along. Wasn’t the one playing games.

Claire wanted to figure herself out? Fine.

But don’t go throwing shit at him like he’s the one who needed clarity. He knew who he was.

He was just… tired.

That’s all.

Just fucking tired.

---

His phone buzzed.

Liam was stepping out of his bathroom, towel low on his hips, steam still curling from the doorway behind him. The light in his room felt too awake. He rubbed a hand through his hair, water dotting his shoulders like sweat.

Another text, from Noah this time.

The screen was glowing on his nightstand.

[NOAH: why werent u at the gym today]

Liam set it down without reading the rest.

He just didn’t feel like it today.

He was allowed, right??

The next day Ashley shot him another dagger-eyed glare by the water fountain that morning—barely even acknowledged him.

Her story yesterday had read:

“Finally.”

Cringe.

But still…

That story had to be about him and Claire. Right?

Whatever. He unfollowed her.

She never even followed him back.

He felt like everyone wanted a piece of him.

Like a jigsaw puzzle made of someone else’s body. One that didn’t fit anywhere. One that didn’t even know which box it came from.

He grabbed the shaker again, just to have something in his hands.

But it didn’t help.

He still felt empty.

Still didn’t know how to sit right.

Still hadn’t replied to any of them.

---

Liam rang the bell.

He shifted on his feet. Tried to roll his shoulders back. The hallway light flickered once above him, buzzing faintly.

A chill night, no pressure. Just a friend, cheap drinks, shit-talking until it got stupid. It’d help him.

Then the door clicked.

Noah didn’t open it all the way—just leaned his head out with that lazy half-smile.

“Yo,” he said. “C’mon in.”

Liam stepped inside.

He didn’t get two feet before his nervous system collapsed.

Connor was there.

Sprawled on the couch, drink in hand on his socks. Smiling.

“Hey, Liamm,” Connor got up, lifting his glass. “you made it.”

Liam blinked.

What. The. Fuck.

He shot Noah a look, but Noah was already walking toward the kitchen like this was normal. Not weird at all.

“You want something to drink?” Noah called.

“What is—” Liam started, voice low.

Noah cut in, tone casual. “Connor swung by. Figured he’d hang.”

Liam didn’t reply.

Noah grabbed two beers, tossed one to him without looking. “Chill, dude.”

“I’m chill,” Liam muttered, catching it—barely.

Connor chuckled from the couch. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable….”

“I’m just not big on drop-ins,” Liam said, heading for the armchair instead of the couch.

Connor leaned forward, elbows on his knees, smile still easy. “C’mon. It’s not weird. It’s just us three. Vibing. Right?”

Noah flopped onto the couch beside him and took a swig.

“Yeah, Liam,” he said, smirking. “Don’t be a weirdo.”

Liam shot him a real look. Intense. Annoyed. “Thought you said he was texting you weird shit.”

Noah shrugged. “He brought booze.”

Connor grinned sheepishly. “Okay, in my defense, I do text like a divorced stepdad. I just figured…”

He trailed off, then waved vaguely. “Like, you guys are always doing your thing. I thought I’d, like… join. I don’t know many people.”

Oh yeah, Connor, I fucking wonder why.

Connor smiled at him, like they were sharing a joke Liam didn’t understand. “So what, you two hang out like this a lot?”

Liam sighed.

Leaned back, stiff. “Sometimes.”

“Nice,” Connor said, nodding. “Noah’s a solid guy. Got that whole jacked-dude energy. You know?”

Noah snorted. Liam did not.

He laughed nervously. “God, ignore me.”

Connor didn’t notice. “Anyway. I was thinking about that night. The party. That whole thing under the sheet.”

Liam’s chest locked.

Connor sipped again, voice light. “You know the ghost blowjob? Me and Ian walked in right when it was happening. Legendary timing.”

Noah’s drink paused halfway to his mouth.

Connor chuckled. “I didn’t even know that was on the table, you know? Like… that people did that. I was like—dammnn. Who was she anyway?”

Noah let out a breath through his nose, eyes flicking briefly to Liam.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Didn’t ask her name.”

Connor groaned dramatically. “You’re such a dick, man. Come on. You had to know.”

Noah shrugged.

“She was going hard,” Connor added, laughing. “Like, Olympic levels. If that was a sport, she’d medal.”

Noah sipped, eyes half-lidded. “Sheet was soft.”

Liam’s heart twisted.

Noah’s voice dropped. “Whoever she was, she wanted it bad. Whole body was shaking.”

Connor snorted. “Maaan. The whole party could feel the vibe. We were like, okay—someone’s getting wrecked in there.”

Liam looked down, knuckles white on his drink.

Noah just kept going. “She gagged a lot.”

Connor choked on his drink. “JESUS.”

Noah smiled, cruel and slow. “I liked it.”

Liam’s lungs felt tight.

Connor laughed, then nudged Noah’s arm. “So… where’d you nut?”

Liam froze.

Noah didn’t hesitate. “In her mouth. Made her hold it.”

Connor let out a sharp breath. “Dude. DUDE. That’s…” He gestured helplessly. “Honestly? Respect.”

Noah took a sip.

“I’m polite,” he said, stone-faced. “I give people souvenirs.”

Connor howled. Slapped the armrest.

Liam wanted to disappear.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

All he could do was listen to Noah reenact the moment Liam broke in half, while Connor sat there—laughing, admiring, hopefully thinking it was just some random girl under the sheet. Not realizing the one getting humiliated… was sitting two feet away from him.

And then, Connor leaned forward, smiling like he was inviting Liam to a game night.

“Anyway… I’m just saying.” He swirled his drink. “I’m open-minded.”

Liam blinked.

Connor shrugged one shoulder. “I haven’t… y’know. Had anything in a while. And like—if there’s a dynamic going on here, I’m not trying to mess it up or whatever, but… I wouldn’t mind being part of it.”

Beat.

He laughed. “If that’s a thing you guys do or something. Like, with girls?”

Liam’s pulse punched through his ears.

Connor smiled, awkward. “Just putting it out there. Like, vibes, you know?”

Noah was silent.

Just watching.

And Liam?

He stood up—too fast.

“I—I gotta piss.”

He didn’t wait.

The hallway felt too narrow. The air too hot. He slammed the bathroom door and gripped the sink, breath catching.

What the fuck was happening?

He tried to steady himself.

Didn’t work.

When Liam stepped back into the living room, the lights felt dimmer.

Noah and Connor were standing now. Connor was holding a shot glass, swirling clear liquid lazily like he’d been waiting to hand it off.

“There he is,” Connor said, smiling. “Let’s do shots!”

“No…” Liam slowed. “Nah. I’m good.”

Connor shrugged, but Noah’s voice cut in—low, calm, nearly a command:

“Drink it.”

Liam looked at him. Noah was watching now, head tilted slightly, unreadable.

Liam hesitated… then stepped forward and took the glass. Downed it in one go.

Connor was staring.

Then—he smiled.

“You know…” he said, setting his glass down, “Can we, uh… just go on and say it?”

Liam blinked.

Connor stepped closer, lowering his voice awkwardly.

“I uh… know it was you under the sheets,” he said, scratching his neck. “With Noah.”

Liam’s body tensed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snapped.

Connor held up a hand like this was all chill. “Dude. I’m not judging. I’m serious. Like—it’s fine. Please, don’t get mad!”

He chuckled nervously.

“I mean, I was coming out of the bathroom upstairs. I actually saw you go into Noah’s room. And Ian heard… noises. So we kinda peeked.”

Liam’s stomach dropped.

“Your clothes were on the ground… I just didn’t wanna say anything in front of the others. And Ian didn’t notice anything.”

Connor paused. Looked away.

“I mean, no offense, but you two got a thing going, right? Like a system or whatever?”

Liam opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

This couldn’t be happening.

Connor kept going, oblivious.

“Anyway,” he said. “Look, I’m not trying to make it weird. It’s just—I’ve been thinking…”

He took anotherstep closer, his tone friendly.

“You could help me out too.”

Liam recoiled. “What??”

“I mean, not in a gay way or anything,” Connor said quickly. “Just like…whatever you do with Noah. And Noah’s clearly not gay… That’s chill. I get it.”

Liam just stared, frozen.

Then:

“I’M NOT A— A FUCKING FAGGOT!”

Connor flinched—visibly startled. His mouth opened, then shut, like he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Yeah, man. No, I—I get it. It’s cool,” he said quickly, hands half-raised like he was calming down a wild animal.

Then he leaned in, voice low. Almost gentle. Like he thought he was saying something deeply reasonable.

“I haven’t hooked up in like… two years, man. Girls don’t look at me like they do him or you. And it’s not like I’m asking for a relationship or something. I just want in. You know? Equal footing.”

Liam’s jaw clenched.

“And I’m not gonna tell anyone,” he added, like that made him generous. “I just thought… maybe you could include me next time… You know, for keeping the secret?”

Liam stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

He knew what he was doing.

Behind him, Noah still hadn’t moved.

Still hadn’t said a word.

Connor gestured vaguely between them. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a big deal, right?

His voice softened. “And like…I’d be so grateful.”

And Noah still didn’t speak.

Still didn’t move.

Liam’s chest ached. His mouth tasted like pennies.

Connor shifted his weight awkwardly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just thought… it made sense.”

Noah stood up.

He crossed the room slowly, quiet and precise. Set his glass down. Reached out, hand resting on Liam’s shoulder.

“He’s in,” Noah said, voice calm. “Come on.”

Liam stood still for a while.

Paralyzed.

Then jerked away from the touch like it burned. Didn’t even look at him.

He just… walked.

Past them both.

Silent. Head down. His legs felt like they weren’t even his.

It wasn’t like he agreed. It wasn’t like he said “yes.” But not saying “no” felt the same.

It was pretty clear Connor would out what happened.

To everyone.

Liam’s life was over.

His stomach churned. His skin crawled. His brain buzzed like static.

He walked to Noah’s bedroom without a word.

Because what the fuck else could he do?

Behind him, the low hum of male voices followed.

Laughter.

Footsteps.

Disappointment.

The door shut behind them with a soft click. Liam didn’t turn around.

He heard Noah sigh.

Then, quietly, firmly:

“Clothes off.”

Liam froze again. Didn’t breathe.

But then…

His hands moved on their own. Shirt first. Then his belt. His jeans. His briefs. Each piece hit the floor like an admission of guilt.

Still—

He was hard. Already.

And that made it so much worse.

The shame was instantaneous—hot and choking. His face flushed. He turned slightly, just to hide it, but he knew Noah saw. Connor did too.

Noah stepped in, slow and deliberate.

He reached up—still silent—and let his thumbs graze Liam’s nipples. Light at first. Barely a whisper of touch.

Liam flinched.

He didn’t want this. Not like this. Not with Connor still in the other room. Not after what Noah had done to him. Setting him up like that.

But Noah kept going.

The circles grew firmer. Deeper. He pinched—just a little.

Liam gasped before he could stop it.

“Whoaa.” Connor said. “Does he like that?”

Liam hated that it felt good. Hated that his cock twitched. Hated that his chest arched forward on instinct.

Stop.

You’re mad at him. He sold you out.

But his body didn’t care. It was already moving. Already yielding.

Noah leaned in closer, his breath hitting Liam’s neck. Still not saying a word. Still not explaining a damn thing.

And then—slow and smooth—Noah reached for the hem of his own shirt.

Fingers curled under the fabric, he peeled it off in one fluid motion, dragging it up his chest, over his shoulders, and off the back of his neck. His hair ruffled as it came free, messy, catching the light.

He looked stiffer than usual though—tense in the shoulders or something.

He exposed his armpit. Damp as always.

Just like that.

Like it was nothing.

But to Liam?

In that hazy state?

It was everything.

The heat hit him instantly. That raw, feral scent. So specific. So Noah.

And desire slammed into him like a wave.

Noah looked at him.

Liam looked away.

“It’s okay, little buddy… I got this.”

Fucking asshole.

But the choice wasn’t really a choice at all.

His chest ached.

His dick throbbed.

He hated himself for wanting it.

Hated Noah for knowing he would.

Hated Connor for seeing it—like this was all inevitable.

Like they’d known before he did.

It was a game to them. A fucked-up little game with Liam as the toy, the joke.

And still—he went in.

Because fuck it. Because everything was falling apart the past few days anyway. Because he had no out.

Closer. Closer. Until Noah’s arm curved around him, pulling him into that open, waiting space.

His face rubbed up against it—warm skin, the heavy dampness, the musk so familiar now it was weirdly comforting.

Noah’s scent hit him hard. Strong. Sharp. Intimate.

Liam felt… safe. Ironically.

It wrapped around his brain like a drug again, that exact mixture of sweat and boy. His gut twisted. His dick pulsed. He hated that his body responded like this, like it craved this humiliation.

His nose buried near the dip of Noah’s armpit, and everything else blurred.

It was quiet there.

Still.

Just shame and humiliation.

Liam inhaled. Shuddered. Swallowed back the lump in his throat.

And just as his fingers brushed Noah’s thigh—

“Jesus Christ,” Connor’s voice broke in from the doorway.

“Liam, that’s… You’re actually into this?”

Liam open his eyes.

Naked. Hard. Caught in the headlights of someone else’s disgust.

He didn’t even look up.

But he heard Noah say something under his breath. Couldn’t make it out.

Didn’t matter.

Connor giggled, but quieter this time, like he regretted saying anything. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

Noah didn’t even look at him.

Instead, he placed his hands on Liam’s shoulders—slow, deliberate—and guided him downward.

Liam didn’t resist.

He felt utterly defeated already.

His knees hit the floor with a muted thud. Carpet soft against his shins. His chest brushed Noah’s thighs. His breath caught.

Then—Noah slid his shorts down.

No warning. No fanfare.

And his cock sprang out. Thick. Red. Liam’s mouth went dry.

He stared.

Of course he did.

The same cock he’d been trying not to think about all week. The one that had been inside him.

Behind them, Connor shifted.

“…Oh my—,” he muttered, a beat too loud.

Liam didn’t move.

But he heard it—footsteps coming closer. Slow. Curious.

Connor stopped just a little too near. “That’s… uh—” he gave a breathy laugh, trying to hide how rattled he was. “Fuck, man. No wonder he acts the way he does.”

Liam’s ears burned.

Noah didn’t flinch. Or respond. Just stood there like a god who expected worship.

Connor tilted his head. “You really took that whole thing? All the way?”

Liam tried ignoring him. His face was on fire.

He couldn’t stand it.

How was he hard even?

Noah leaned forward, thumb brushing Liam’s bottom lip. “Open up.”

And Liam did.

Noah’s cock was there—pulsating, flushed, already leaking at the slit—and Liam’s lips were parting before he could stop himself.

The smell hit him first. Sharp. Salty. Clean sweat and slick skin and hormones.

It made his head go light.

From the edge of his vision, movement.

Connor again.

He glanced just enough to see it—shorts sliding down pale thighs, a hand already working a thick length at the base.

He was hard. Watching.

And worse… into it.

They stayed like that—Noah standing, chest rising slow, his head tipped back slightly like this was just routine. Like Liam choking on his dick was a casual afterthought.

Liam started to move more.

He took him in deeper this time, his lips slick and stretched, he gagged a few times, jaw already sore but working through it. Every time the head hit the back of his throat, he flinched just a little—but then adjusted, relaxing, swallowing, like he wanted to take more. Like it grounded him.

Noah’s hand slid into his hair—Possessive. Claiming.

“Yeah…” Noah breathed. “Just like that.”

The praise made Liam flush. Shame. Heat. Hunger. It tangled in his gut and made his cock twitch, heavy against his thigh.

He went faster.

Suck, slurp, pull—his tongue pressed under the shaft, dragging slick up the underside, then swirling around the tip like it was instinct. Like he liked it.

Noah let out a low grunt, hips shifting forward just slightly, like he was holding back from fucking Liam’s throat. Like he wanted to make it last.

Behind them, Connor was still jerking off. Closer now. Eyes glued to the way Liam moved. The wet sounds. The obscene bob of his head.

“Holy fuck,” Connor muttered. “Liam, dude… That’s nasty.”

Liam’s cheeks burned. His eyes stung. His throat was raw already.

And still—he didn’t stop.

Because the burn in his chest was matched only by the heat building lower, deeper.

And every time Noah’s cock slid back over his tongue, it made him feel good. Hot.

That was the worst part.

Because he didn’t want to feel like that.

God help him—he fucking did.

And then—

“My turn.”

Connor’s voice snapped the silence. Eager.

Noah sighed, pulled back.

Liam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he turned slightly. Eyes semi-closed.

His eyes landed on Connor’s dick.

Thick. Like shockingly so. Maybe even thicker than Noah’s—though shorter. Maybe 7’’? Circumcised. Blunt. Veiny. Big head.

Liam blinked at it.

Did everyone just have a massive cock but him?

He looked to Noah again. Pleading. Silent.

Please…

But Noah didn’t say anything comforting. No soft reassurances.

Just that same unreadable face. Stern. Calm. Watching.

Then finally: “Do it.”

Nothing more.

Liam sighed in capitulation.

His lips were still slick from Noah. His knees ached against the floor. Every instinct told him to run—but instead, he shifted slightly, turning toward Connor, who was now fully hard and standing close.

It was a lot.

Liam’s breath caught. His mouth opened—but not out of want. Out of shock.

Noah’s voice came again, firm. “Just do it.”

Liam flinched. Closed his eyes.

And obeyed.

His fingers, a little shaky, reached out and curled around the base.

“Oh my god,” Connor gasped, a shaky, awkward laugh bubbling out of him. “This is insane. I—I’ve never had anything like this happen before.”

He looked down, eyes wide with a weird mix of awe and disbelief.

“You’re seriously doing this for me? Fuck, dude… I don’t even know what to say.”

Shut the fuck up.

Liam couldn’t believe he was doing that either. But leaned in anyway.

Opened wide.

And wrapped his lips around the fat head.

The taste hit him first—different. Earthier.

He took a breath through his nose, sank further, felt that stretch. Wider, demanding, a different kind of pressure on his jaw. On his lips.

“F-fuck,” Connor moaned, hips twitching like he couldn’t believe his luck. “Holy shit. Feels so warm. You’re, like—god, dude, you’re so good at this.”

He sounded dazed. Not cocky—just confused and weirdly sincere.

“I always thought you were kinda shy. But… damn. I get it now. No wonder Noah—”

He cut himself off, breath catching, like he’d said too much.

Liam gagged slightly but kept going. Up, down. Up, down. The taste and rhythm already familiar. He hated how automatic it felt—how practiced.

Liam didn’t slow down.

His jaw tightened around Connor’s cock, throat spasming. Gagging.

Behind him, Noah didn’t speak.

But Liam felt the stare.

He could feel Noah watching him. Controlling him without a word.

And it made him harder.

Connor’s hand tightened, guiding him now—lazy and clumsy.

The crown of his cock was too thick, swollen, and Liam felt the big ridge of it as it dragged over his lips—in and out—slowing just enough at the head to make the pressure unbearable.

It was impossible to ignore the shape.

Liam was trying not to gag. Somehow he felt that would save him some sad piece of dignity. But it was impossible.

He just knelt there and took it—face flushed, mouth full, humiliated and hard.

Connor gave a little grunt, delicately adjusting his grip on Liam’s hair as he pushed in again—just a bit deeper this time.

Liam breathed through his nose and sank lower.

“Shit,” Connor muttered, half-laughing, almost proud. “Can you try to get the head in… you know… your throat?”

A beat. Then—

“Sorry. I’m really thick, I think.”

Liam didn’t even nod. He just… tried.

Relaxed his jaw. Adjusted his angle. Tilted his head the way Noah had taught him. And then eased down—slow, slow, too slow—

Until it caught.

Right at the back of his throat.

Connor forced himself forward.

Too fat.

Liam gagged—choked, coughed, pulling off too fast. Spit trailed from his lip. His eyes stung. His cheeks flushed hot with shame.

“Fuck, sorry—” Connor said quickly, hands up like he was trying to calm a scared dog. “Shit, dude, I didn’t mean—Are you okay?”

Liam’s throat clenched. His mouth still hung open like it was broken.

“Wanna try again?” Connor asked gently, like it was a real question.

But then—Noah’s voice. Finally.

Firm. Cool.

“That’s enough.”

Connor pulled back with a wet pop.

Then, casually—like it was nothing—he slapped Liam’s cheek with it. Once. Then again.

It felt so fucking demeaning.

Liam flinched the first time. Didn’t the second.

He just sat there. Face flushed, lips parted. Breathing through it.

Hating himself.

“Ohh,” he muttered happily, giving his cock a casual jerk. “I’ve always wanted to do that!”

Liam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, chest rising in shaky breaths. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at either of them. He was over it. Or at least, he wanted to be.

His whole body was flushed and trembling, skin buzzing with that awful mix—humiliation and arousal, tangled so tight he couldn’t tell one from the other.

Connor tilted his head.

Connor’s hand slid off Liam’s thigh like he’d just remembered it was there. “Okay, okay, wait—” he said, eyes lighting up like a kid at a sleepover. “I have an idea.”

Oh, no.

Noah didn’t even look at him. “Connor—”

Connor blinked. “What? You don’t even know what it is.”

“I do,” Noah said flatly. “And no.”

Connor paused… then pouted. “Damn. You’re no fun.”

Then, like it was a helpful clarification:

“I mean… maybe Liam would like it? He’s into the armpit thing, right?”

Liam’s stomach dropped. “??”

Liam was not into it. Whatever it was.

“Sit down, bro.” Noah’s tone was bored. “You’re not directing this.”

Then, almost sheepish, eyes darting back to Liam— “Not even if… could you do it then? Like—same idea. I just… wanna see how it looks. Y’know? Please?”

Liam’s brain was sounding alarms, loud and fast.

Then—Noah sighed. And moved towards the bathroom.

His arms uncrossed slowly, lazily, like he’d just gotten bored.

“Fine,” Noah said, voice even. “You watch. But you don’t touch.”

Connor froze mid-step. Turned back.

“Wait—seriously?”

Noah didn’t answer. Just tilted his head at Liam.

“Tub.”

Liam blinked.

“Wha—”

Noah’s tone didn’t change. Didn’t raise.

“Get in the tub.”

Liam hesitated, but the look in Noah’s eyes told him this wasn’t a request.

And for a moment, he couldn’t tell what he was more afraid of—Noah’s silence, or his own compliance.

He walked.

Connor trailed behind like some overeager kid invited into a forbidden room, practically bouncing.

The lights flicked on—bright.

Noah leaned against the sink, arms folded again. Calm. Detached.

Connor stood to the side, trying to act like he wasn’t out of place.

Liam stepped into the tub. The porcelain was cold under his feet.

Noah pushed off the counter. Calm. Unhurried.

He stepped closer, gaze steady. Then—quietly, flatly:

“Sit down.”

Liam blinked. “Why?”

Noah didn’t repeat himself. Just looked at him.

Waiting.

Liam’s breath caught. His heart was racing so fast it felt like it might break something inside his chest.

“Noah…”

Still no response. Just that stare.

Then, like something inside him disconnected, he lowered himself into the tub. Limbs stiff. Head buzzing. His back hit the cold porcelain with a soft thud. He stared up at the ceiling.

Noah stepped forward.

Slow steps. Quiet ones.

He walked over.

Liam looked up, eyes darting. “Bro, what—?”

Noah kept silent.

He angled his cock down, lazy, deliberate, like he was taking a leak in an alley and just happened to have a person underneath him.

Liam’s voice cracked, small and raw. “Noah—what the fuck—”

No answer. Just the soft click of Noah’s fist tightening around his hardening cock.

Then he started pissing.

Hot. Thick. Relentless.

A heavy,light-golden arc that slapped across Liam’s chest like a whip, splashing up under his chin, running in over his nipples. The smell punched the air immediately: stale beer, salt, pure male musk.

Liam jerked, a choked sound ripping out of him. His hands flew up, hovered, dropped again—like he’d been trained not to block it.

Connor’s eyes went huge, pupils blown black. “Fuuuck,” he whispered, stepping closer, close enough that Liam could feel the heat coming off him. “That’s a lot of piss, man.”

Noah didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. Just stared straight at Connor while the stream kept coming, strong enough that it hissed against Liam’s skin, drumming into the hollow of his throat, pouring down the center of his chest in one long, obscene ribbon.

Connor grinned, feral. “How many did you chug, dude? That thing’s a fucking fire hose.”

“Four,” Noah said, voice flat, almost bored. His cock was swelling in his fist now, thickening with every heartbeat, the slit flaring wider as another surge blasted out.

Noah leaned in slightly again, resting his hand and torso’s weight on the opposite wall.

Liam didn’t fight.

Just lied there staring at Noah’s body.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, breathless, “Liam, you’re dripping for it. You’re actually fucking hard while he pisses on you. That’s so awesome.”

Liam ignored Connor again.

His chest was rising and falling too quickly now, slick with recycled beer, nipples hard. The scent was thankfully not too strong in his nose.

Noah was looking at him now.

Really looked at him.

No smile. No grin. Just stillness.

Watching.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing this!” he barked out, bouncing slightly.

And still—Liam sat there. Soaked. Shaking. Chest glistening, skin burning, dick painfully hard.

The stream was so strong. Was it the size of Noah’s piss slit? It was big…

It didn’t seem to end.

Liam felt it pooling in the dip of his abs. The pressure of it splashed upward, flecks dotting his chin and face. He shut his eyes, but that only made it worse—he could hear it. The hiss. The patter. The sound of being marked.

Used.

“Just try to enjoy it, little buddy” Noah smirked.

But Liam didn’t even process it

The scent was stronger now—and his brain spun, trying to dissociate, to not be here, but his body wouldn’t let him. It felt too real.

He was taking another dude’s piss.

His fucking mouth—open, panting—he tasted it in the air. Metallic. Male.

Noah didn’t say a word. Just kept going. Holding his cock in one hand, jerking it off casually. Like Liam was a urinal. A thing. Something to relieve himself on.

Liam had stopped looking at Noah by then.

And that shame—that unspeakable, gutting shame—was the worst part of all.

So why the fuck was he still hard?

The last few drops fell—slow, deliberate.

Silence.

Just the wet sound of Liam breathing through his open mouth and the soft plink of piss hitting porcelain.

Noah let his cock go. It hung heavy, flushed dark, a single bead of precum trembling at the slit.

He didn’t tuck himself away. Just looked down at the mess he’d made of Liam—glistening, stinking, wrecked—and said, calm as ever:

“Get up.”

Liam breathed out.

Noah turned his back and headed for the door, already done with it.

“Bed,” he said. “Go.”

Just like that.

As if the tub, the piss, Connor watching wide-eyed and pink-faced from the corner—all of it was normal.

Liam stood slowly, unsure. Sopping wet. Smelling like piss. Sticky. Confused.

But he didn’t argue.

He stepped out of the tub, dripping, and followed.

His dick was still throbbing hard but he didn’t touch it. Didn’t even look down.

What the hell was wrong with him?

The bedroom was dimmer now, quieter.

Connor was on the bed already, one arm on the side of his body, awkwardly, the other stroking himself lazily.

Noah stood beside him, still hard, clearly leaking, still watching.

Liam hovered in the doorway for a second too long.

And then stepped in.

Connor pushed himself up from the bed, skinny abs flexing as he grabbed the lube off the nightstand. “Alright,” he said, voice low and casual, like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Can we finally do it? Get in here, Liam. Is all fours okay?”

Liam hesitated. Then sighed.

He shifted forward, silent, climbing onto the bed and getting into position without a word. His knees pressed into the sheets. His arms held him up, barely.

He didn’t even flinch when the mattress dipped behind him.

Connor stood up with a little laugh, grabbing the lube from the nightstand like this was the best night of his life. “Dude,” he said, grinning wide, “this is actually happening. This is so fucking sick.”

The sound of the cap popping open echoed in the room, followed by the wet schlick of lube against his fingers. It was loud.

“Alright,” Connor said, practically bouncing with excitement. “I’l be careful, don’t worry.”

Liam stayed still. Jaw tight. Eyes fixed on the sheets beneath him. His face was blank, empty. He wasn’t sure what he felt—beyond the smell of piss on his skin. Just a dull throb behind his ribs and the vague wish for it to be over soon.

This wasn’t about wanting anything. It wasn’t even about Connor. It was just about letting it happen. Quick.

Connor’s hands firm on Liam’s hips as he lined himself up. He let out a dumb little laugh, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. “Dude, your ass is so niiiice,” he said, chuckling.

Liam winced.

Then came the pressure—too much, too fast.

Connor lined himself up and started pushing in, his thick cock head nudging insistently at Liam’s entrance. No prep, no rhythm, just messy eagerness and lube-slathered chaos. He was breathing hard already, gripping Liam’s hips like handlebars on a ride he didn’t want to slow down for.

Liam’s body flinched, instinctive.

His eyes were open, unfocused.

Shit. It hurt more than Noah ever did.

It was so thick. Jesus.

Connor let out a breathy, excited laugh behind him. “Shit, man… tight as fuck.”

That’s when Noah’s voice snapped through the room.

“Stop.”

Connor froze.

The tone wasn’t loud. Wasn’t angry. But it landed like a steel hand around Connor’s neck.

Noah was at the edge of the bed, eyes dark and locked on Liam’s face. Not his body. Not what was happening. Just Liam’s expression—and whatever he saw there was enough.

“Go easy,” Noah said, stepping closer. “Slow.”

Connor looked back, confused, still holding Liam’s hips. “Yeah? He looks fine to me—he’s—”

Noah didn’t blink. Didn’t raise his voice.

“Go. Fucking. Slow.”

That landed.

Connor’s shoulders stiffened. “Okay, okay…” he muttered, less eager now, and adjusted his hold. “Sorry.”

And Liam felt the difference immediately.

Connor’s next push came slower—still thick, still too much, but more deliberate. Even that small mercy made it easier to breathe.

But then—

Noah’s voice, low and close, right by Liam’s ear. Serious.

“Relax your hole.”

It was an order.

Liam flinched, more from the sound than the words. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath—clenching so tight it hurt.

He exhaled slowly, letting his body soften, letting it happen.

Still, his body was screaming.

Connor groaned behind him.

Liam bit down hard on his bottom lip, his face pressed to the sheets. The stretch was unbearable—blunt and burning. Connor was even bigger around the head, and Liam’s body felt like it didn’t know what to do with it. Like every inch that pushed in forced his insides to contract, like his whole torso was curling inward in protest. Muscles tensed, ribs tightened, his throat locked up.

It wasn’t pain in the sharp sense—it was pressure. Relentless, dragging pressure in his sphincter, like his body was being reshaped from the inside out.

His breath hitched. He didn’t cry out. He wouldn’t give Connor that. But his fingers clawed into the sheets, gripping like they were the only things keeping him from floating away.

Connor lined up again—blunt and eager—and pushed in.

The head went in first.

SHIT.

Liam gasped, back arching instinctively. It was like his body didn’t know whether to fight it or fold around it. The head stretched, pressed in slow, thick and swollen, forcing his ass lips open inch by inch. It forced itself in—not sharp, but deep, a pressure that bloomed through his gut.

“Fuuuck,” Connor groaned behind him, hips shaking. “Jesus—tight—”

Liam couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

And then Connor didn’t stop.

He kept going—slow and greedy, feeding inch after inch inside him, like he’d been waiting for this, imagining it. Liam felt stretched. Crammed. Too much too fast, but not fast enough to stop it. His mouth dropped open in a silent moan, eyes wide and unfocused as the pressure climbed higher.

“Holy shit,” Connor breathed. “Dude… You’re so soft. I didn’t think it’d actually—”

Another inch. Liam whimpered.

“Fuck, I can’t stop pushing in,” Connor groaned. “Jesus, sorry! Feels too good for me to—God.”

Liam’s hands gripped the sheets. He couldn’t speak. Could barely think.

Connor let out a choked laugh, breathless and shaky. “Noah’s lucky as fuck. You just open for him like this?”

Liam shook his head, just barely—he didn’t know if it meant no or stop or please, but none of it came out.

Connor pushed one last inch, bottoming out with a low moan that didn’t even sound human anymore.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, voice broken. “All the way… in…”

He was stretched to the limit.

And still—his dick twitched, hard and aching. Leaking a river of pre cum.

Liam gasped.

A sharp, broken sound ripped from his throat before he could stop it, loud and involuntary. His body tightened around the intrusion, but the pressure had shifted already—less burn, more heat. Raw, sudden pleasure shot up from where Connor’s fat head was pressing. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

But it did.

“A-ahhhhhhhh—ohmmmm—!”

The moan broke out of him—loud and unfiltered, shattering the stillness of the room. It wasn’t soft or subtle. It was desperate—almost pained, needy. Like it had been torn from somewhere deep inside him, dragged up past everything he was trying to bury.

Connor froze for a second.

Then laughed—surprised, earnest.

“Ohhh shit, dude… you do like this.”

He gave a shallow thrust, hips grinding against Liam’s ass. “Damn. You’re like, actually into it.”

Connor kept talking.

“I mean, hey, I’m not judging, alright? I’m not homophobic or whatever. Like—my cousin’s gay.”

Another thrust, a little deeper.

From the side, Noah’s voice cut in—dry, quiet, razor-sharp.

“Mine too.”

Connor blinked, thrown off. “Wait, really?”

Noah didn’t respond.

He didn’t even look at him.

He was stroking himself—slow, completely unbothered. Like Connor hadn’t said anything at all.

Connor gave a weird little laugh, still processing. “I missed this feeling. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

Liam wanted to disappear.

He was on all fours, still trembling from the slutty moan he hadn’t meant to let out. Feeling the close grip his asslips were draggint along Connor’s cockhead—and now Connor was giving a TED Talk about tolerance while fucking him.

And he wasn’t even fucking gay!

It was enough Dylan thought he was.

Noah was staring now.

Watching the way Liam’s shoulders trembled. The way his mouth hung open, helpless. The way his body tried to stay still and failed.

The way his mouth hung open, flushed and helpless, spit glistening at the corner of his lip. The way Connor’s thrusts made Liam jolt slightly forward, knees barely holding.

Each movement of his hand was deliberate, smooth—its own rhythm, detached from the chaos on the bed.

Liam could hear it.

That wet, obscene slick-slick-slick of skin on skin. Steady. Cruel. Like Noah was stroking himself to them, to this.

Like he wasn’t just watching—he was enjoying every second.

Fucking asshole.

His body clenched harder around Connor, trembling. It felt better and better.

Liam forehead pressed into the sheets, mouth open, panting. His whole body trembled—hips twitching like they didn’t know whether to pull back or grind forward. Connor was deep dicking him now. The stretch had gone from unbearable to addictive in one brutal second.

“Nghhhhhhhhh—it’s too—fuck—mmmmmMMMMMM—wht—”

“Oh my god,” Connor choked out behind him, voice wrecked with awe. “Liam, man! You feel insane… Thank you for letting me—ahhhhhhhhhh—fuck you.”

And then Liam looked at Noah. Head still pressed onto the mattress.

And he looked hungry.

Actually hungry.

Liam’s face flushed instantly—shame and arousal clashing in his chest like fire and ice. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, body still pulsing around Connor.

Noah didn’t speak. Just kept stroking—slow, smooth, as if this was exactly what he wanted to see.

Liam felt like he was being watched from the inside out.

Connor started to move even faster now. Every thrust was messy, greedy, like he couldn’t help himself. Like he hadn’t fucked. Ever. His breathing turned erratic, hands gripping Liam’s waist like he was afraid he’d vanish.

“Shit, man,” Connor moaned, hips slapping against Liam’s ass, “Fuck, it’s been so LOOOOONG—Jesus—this is unreal.”

Liam just took it, body rocked with each push. The stretch still hurt, but the pleasure was threaded through it now—thick and hot, a burn that made his toes curl. Every time Connor bottomed out, it knocked the air from his lungs. His moans had gone quieter now, breathier, almost like he was trying not to make any more sound, trying to hold onto some kind of pride.

But it was slipping. Fast.

He could feel it—Connor. The change in rhythm. The way his grip tightened. The heat building deep inside him, thick cock pulsing erratically, like his body was winding up.

Liam clenched his jaw.

Connor was close.

He was going to cum.

Liam hadn’t even considered it.

This was how it ended? Full of Connor’s cum? Humiliated, and getting his co-worker off like some kind of slut?

Then, the bed creaked beneath them with each movement, and Liam’s face was already damp with sweat. He kept his eyes shut, lips parted, trying to breathe, trying to stay grounded—until something shifted behind them.

A sound.

Noah was moving, the weight of his body shifting on the mattress. Then a low, telltale creak. Then—pshht—the bottle of lube.

He didn’t look back. Didn’t have to. He could feel it in the air. Noah was behind them now.

Connor didn’t seem to notice. Too drunk on pleasure from Liam’s hole.

But then his rhythm faltered. Just a beat. Then stopped completely.

Liam opened his eyes—blurry, dazed—just in time to hear:

“Hey, Noah… dude, what are you—?”

Noah didn’t answer.

The bed dipped harder this time.

“Chill,” Noah said, voice low and steady.

Liam’s chest tightened. His breath hitched as he waited—he didn’t even know what he was waiting for, but he could feel the tension spike in the air.

Connor laughed, awkwardly. “Bro, seriously, come on. I’m chill. I’m not—”

Noah cut him off by pressing a hand flat against Connor’s lower back.

Liam heard it—a sudden, surprised grunt from behind him. The kind of sound that wasn’t quite pain, but wasn’t comfort either.

Then silence.

Connor must’ve tried to shift—but then stopped, halted. He was sandwiched between Noah and Liam. Like there was no version of this where Connor got to squirm away.

“Noah, stop—dude, come on, seriously—This isn’t what we talked about!”

Liam’s eyes went wide.

What’s… happening?

Then.

“Listen to me, you little shit,” Noah growled. “Shut the fuck up and relax.”

Liam flinched at the tone. He’d never heard Noah like that before. This wasn’t the cold, smirking control Liam knew—this was serrated. Real.

Angry.

“You keep tensing up like that, it’s gonna hurt more than it has to,” Noah continued, voice dropping even lower, like it was dragging along the floor. “So unless you want me to wreck your asshole for life, I’d suggest you breathe.”

Connor’s voice was tight, almost panicked. “What the fuck, man—this—come on, bro, what the hell are you—”

Smack.

A sharp sound cut the air—flesh on flesh.

“Not so giddy now, right?” Noah snapped. “Where’s all that excitement? Huh? Fucking loser.”

Liam’s breath caught.

Behind him, the bed creaked again. Connor whimpered. Actually whimpered.

The shift of weight was obvious now—Noah settling in behind them, knees digging into the mattress, one hand no doubt holding Connor exactly where he wanted him.

“Wait—wait, Noah, stop—STOP!” Connor’s voice cracked, thin and desperate.

But Noah didn’t wait.

“Oh—fuck—” Connor gasped. “No, I—wait, wait, just—oooooOOOOOHHHHH—”

The movements steady. Not brutal—controlled. He could feel Connor trying to escape, still pulsating inside him.

“Noah—fuck, man—oh my god—OH MY GOD” Connor’s voice dropped suddenly, words dissolving into something between a groan and a laugh. “Hey. HEY! Shit, I’m not a—MmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

Liam swallowed hard, pressing his forehead into the sheets. Every sound Connor made scraped down his spine, hot and confusing.

And Noah?

Noah just kept going. Smooth. Patient. Silent.

“Stopppp—”

Connor was reacting. Deep inside him. A twitch. A fat throb. A sudden pulse that made Liam gasp into the sheets.

“Mmmmmmmmmmm—ah—”

And then

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!”

He didn’t even need to look.

He knew.

Noah was inside him. Buried to the hilt in Connor’s ass. And Connor—he was falling apart.

“NGHH—fuck—GET IT OUT!” Connor moaned, voice high and trembling. “GET OFF get the fuck OUUUUUT!!!

Liam bit his lip. Hard. Because with every word, he could feel Connor moving inside him—thrusting deeper inadvertently, throbbing, his cock flexing where it was still buried deep in Liam.

And then Noah spoke.

“You feel that, little shit?” he murmured behind Connor, breath hot and close to his ear. “That’s my dick deep in you. You’re stuffed so full of cock, you’re pushing into Liam every time I move.”

Connor let out a shaky whimper.

“Liam.”

Liam flinched as Noah’s voice cut through the thick air behind him.

“Get out.”

His breath caught. “Huh?”

“Off the bed,” Noah said, firmer now. “Now.”

There was no discussion. Just sheer authority.

Liam obeyed.

His legs shook as he pulled himself forward—slowy—Connor’s cock slipping out of him with a wet, obscene pop that made his cheeks burn. He whimpered when it plopped out. His body felt empty, gaped. His knees hit the floor with a soft thud, but he barely registered it.

Noah had already moved.

In one fluid motion, he pulled Connor with him—rolling them both toward the other side of the bed. He took control of Connor’s body without effort, repositioning him on all fours.

Noah grabbed both of Connor’s wrists and yanked them back, pinning them together at the small of his back with one hand.

Liam watched from the floor, dazed, flushed, breath catching in his throat.

Connor moaned again, face buried in the sheets, completely pliant now.

Noah leaned down, his mouth brushing Connor’s ear.

“You ready to cum like this?”

And Noah smiled—dark, knowing.

Liam couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. His heart pounded as he watched Noah line himself up again—dominant, terrifying.

Noah had a baseball cap on. He hadn’t even noticed when he put it on. Fitted low on his forehead, casting a shadow over his eyes.

Connor squirmed under him, still trying to talk tough, but his voice was unraveling.

“Brooo—oooooooohhhhhhh—jesus jesus—just please—stop—”

But Noah didn’t slow. Didn’t stop.

Instead, he changed his angle—just slightly.

He rolled his hips in a new rhythm. Deliberate. Deep.

The kind of movement that wasn’t for power—it was for precision.

Connor’s breath hitched. Then again.

And again.

His back arched. Hips twitched. A low, broken moan slipped from his throat.

Liam saw it happen in real-time. Connor’s whole body started to melt—muscles loosening, legs shaking, voice cracking like glass. Eyes rolling up.

“Ohhh—fuck—fuck—what the hell are you—oh my god—OHH”

Noah was quiet.

He just kept hitting that spot. Over and over. Slow. Measured. Cruel.

“What is THISS—”

Connor’s pleas shifted—less resistance now. More… need.

Noah smirked, hips rocking forward again, “This,” he murmured against Connor’s ear, “is me ruining your life.”

Connor moaned—loud, messy. His torso jolted, muscles straining. “Holy shit—SHIT—dude, fuck—don’t—OHHHHNNNNNN—”

Connor was slipping. Liam knew the signs—slack mouth, crossed eyes, the way his voice cracked on the edge of a moan.

And Liam had been there. More times than he wanted to admit.

The shift—when Noah angled just right, slow and deep, until the world dissolved. When it didn’t matter what you thought you wanted, because your body had already decided for you. Every nerve lit up. Every breath synced to his rhythm. Pleasure stopped being something you chased and started being something done to you.

Noah was making him melt—making him need it.

Every thrust was reshaping him, dragging moans out of him like Noah had found a switch no one else knew existed.

And it went on like that for a while—slow, relentless, addictive.

Like Noah was carving a new reaction into his body, one stroke at a time.

But then.

Noah stopped.

Right there. Just held him full and still.

“What—” Connor gasped, voice cracked and empty—like something had been ripped out of him. That too was familiar.

“Why’d you stop—”

“You didn’t say you liked it,” Noah said, calm as ever.

Connor squirmed under him, rutting back uselessly. “I do—fuck—I like it—please—”

Noah thrusted once—deep, slow, brutal.

Connor screamed into the sheets.

“That gets you one,” Noah said.

Liam watched from the floor, frozen, chest tight, cock still rock hard, leaking and neglected. His thighs were shaking. Mesmerized at every sound, every word from Connor.

Connor moaned, body trembling, cheek pressed into the sheets. “more—fuck—I like it—”

“Now.” Noah’s voice dropped. “Look at the desk in front of you.”

Connor turned his head, slow and dazed, staring at the desk across from the bed like it meant something. Like Noah’s voice made it mean something. Liam didn’t get it.

“And say it again,” Noah ordered.

“I… I like it,” Connor said again, eyes locked on the desk. “I love it—I love it so much—fuck—I need more—”

Liam shifted, eyes flicking toward the desk.

And that’s when he saw it.

Noah’s phone!

Propped against a mug, the rear-facing camera of Noah’s iPhone stared straight at the bed—dead center, like it had been set up… hours ago.

Liam’s blood turned to ice. His stomach twisted.

Noah was recording. He’d been recording the whole time. Every word. Every thrust. Every moan he and Connor had let out.

Liam looked back at Connor—eyes tearing up, mouth slack and drooling, smiling even and still chanting I need it, I love it like it was gospel.

Shit. He did look…retarded. Did Liam also look like that too when—?.

Liam’s chest felt tight. He suddenly wasn’t sure if he was aroused or horrified. Maybe both.

And still—he watched.

Connor kept going. Clearly unaware of Noah’s phone. Kept saying it, over and over, voice breaking apart, each repetition more raw, more real, until Liam didn’t even recognize him anymore.

“yeeeEEEEEEEEES—MOREEE—MORE—i like it i like it—ffffuuuccckkkkk”

Gone was the overfamiliar work buddy who used to pat his shoulder and joke around at lunch.

What was left was someone else entirely.

Someone broken. Brainwashed even.

He sounded worse than what Liam sounded.

At least Liam wanted to believe that.

“IT FEELS AMAZING!”

Noah increased his speed. Thrusting more and more.

“I love it—I love it—I need it—please don’t stop—Oh shit, man—MAANNN”

Noah moved faster, lips close to Connor’s ear. “Then cum, you little shit. Prove you love it.”

Connor moaned. Slutty. Girly.

“Lemme see you nut on my cock. Like a good little faggot.”

Noah shifted behind him—one arm braced under Connor’s thigh, lifting him just slightly, adjusting the angle. A sharper tilt. More vertical.

Connor moaned, deeper now, like it hit something new.

And just like that, Connor came.

No sound.

Just his mouth falling open—lips parted in stunned silence, like the breath got stolen out of him.

His whole body arched, twitching, muscles drawn tight, then shuddering in waves. Fingers scrambled for grip—on Noah’s forearm, his own thigh, anything. His eyes rolled up and to the side and back up, lashes fluttering, pupils blown wide.

And his cock—shit, it pulsed hard, once, twice—then erupted.

Thick, hot, desperate spurts. Rope after rope painting his stomach, dripping through his thighs. It just kept coming—jetting out with no warning, no buildup. Like it had been waiting. Like it didn’t ask for permission either. He came so much.

Connor’s breath still caught in his throat. Silent. Shaking. Lips trembling.

Then a single weak groan left him, and his body collapsed against Noah’s arm—spent and flickering.

Liam watched—wide-eyed, stunned.

And behind him?

Noah smiled.

It was small. Almost gentle. Not smug—satisfied.

Like something had clicked into place.

Liam was still reeling.

All he saw was a man still buried in someone else, still fucking him slow, while the mattress beneath them soaked with cum.

Slow, deep thrusts as Connor twitched beneath him, oversensitive and wrecked, barely able to breathe. Like Noah had trained him to cum on command.

Liam had seen it before.

With that blindfolded chick. Dani. With… himself.

Now with Connor.

Noah didn’t need to say anything. He didn’t need to ask. He just knew how to break people open—how to make their bodies respond like they’d been wired for him.

And once they were molded, he didn’t stop.

He just worked them through it—slowly—like a monster who knew exactly what he was doing.

Connor was still staring forward, eyes glassy, unfocused—locked on the desk across the room.

On the phone propped up on it.

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