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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BLOOD

The yellow light hummed above him, buzzing faintly.

He stopped beneath it.

Let his arms hang by his sides. Let the water pool in his sleeves. Let the air press heavy against his skin.

His face tilted up. The rain stung his cheeks now. But he didn’t flinch anymore.

He just stared at the light.

It was so bright.

He could see the raindrops against it.

It looked so beautiful.

He didn’t know how long he stood there.

Time didn’t seem to work right anymore. Neither did his breath. Or his thoughts. He blinked once, slow, and the light above him shimmered behind a thin sheet of water—rain or tears, he couldn’t tell. Didn’t matter.

Then—

A splash.

Close.

Someone had stepped into a puddle.

Liam turned his head slowly, like something in him had been pulled by the sound. He saw the sidewalk curve, saw the hedge, the slick pavement—

And then a figure.

A blur.

Just standing there.

It stayed framed in the rain, just beyond the lamp’s flicker. Legs half-silhouetted in the puddles.

Then—

A step.

And another.

The figure approached slowly.

Liam’s vision sharpened, like a lens clicking into place.

Noah.

Still in those plaid pajama pants. Soaked through now, sticking to his thighs. The dark patch around the waistband deeper than the rest. Shirtless. Flip-flops slapping softly with each step. Hair wet, stringy at the ends.

And his eyes weren’t looking at Liam.

They were pointed somewhere just below his chin. Downcast. Focused like he was counting Liam’s breaths by the twitch of his hoodie.

Liam didn’t move. He couldn’t. He just stood under the streetlight, blinking water out of his lashes, watching the boy he’d just humiliated himself to—who’d torn him apart not five minutes ago—walk straight toward him.

Noah didn’t speak. Didn’t slow.

Liam’s hands twitched. His fists tight. His brain was screaming to back up, to yell, anything. But his mouth wouldn’t obey. Or his body.

So Noah reached him.

They stood chest-to-chest in the rain, heat pouring off both of them, breath steaming between their soaked bodies. Liam blinked up at him, eyes wide, electric with confusion and anxiety.

Noah finally looked at him.

His eyes were bloodshot. Tired.

For a second, nothing.

Then he hugged him.

Slow.

Hard.

Arms locking around Liam like iron cables, dragging him forward into his chest, burying him there. Liam stumbled from the force of it, nose hitting Noah’s face, fists trapped awkwardly between their stomachs. His brain lagged a full second behind.

Noah’s voice—

“I lied.”

Soft. Raw. Hoarse like he hadn’t spoken in hours. Like the words had to crawl through gravel to escape.

Liam stopped.

The words echoed in his ears like they’d been spoken underwater.

His breath caught. Something in his chest stuttered.

His brain flipped through its emotional directory and found nothing clear. No relief. No recognition.

Just heat.

Pressure.

A nauseating swirl in his gut.

And eventually—

Anger.

So much anger.

Crawling up the back of his neck like a rash.

It didn’t spark. It slithered.

Slow and bitter.

“What—what?”

“You—”

Noah didn’t answer.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Liam started pushing.

“Fuck you—get off—”

His voice cracked, breath catching against Noah’s shoulder.

“Stop!”

“You said—” he shook his head hard. “—all that shit—”

Noah didn’t answer.

His grip tightened. Just slightly.

His jaw flexed.

“I lied.”

Again. His voice was almost a breath now. Still not looking at Liam.

Liam shoved again, harder now.

“Let go of me!”

Nothing.

“I’m serious, Noah—let GO!”

Still nothing.

“GET OFF!!”

Noah didn’t.

But Liam twisted—finally broke free.

His elbow came up too fast. Too sharp.

CRACK.

It caught Noah square on the mouth. His upper lip.

Noah stumbled back a step, a sharp breath punching out of him. His hand flew up to his face.

Liam gasped.

Noah turned his face to the side. Slowly. His fingers brushed his lip. Pulled back.

Red.

“Shit—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

The blood was bright at first. Then rain hit it, dissolved it, painted his finger with pink. His lip swelled immediately. A drop slid from his chin to the asphalt.

Liam stepped forward instinctively. “I—I’m sorry—”

But Noah’s eyes finally found his.

Locked.

And they weren’t soft anymore.

They were fucking blazing.

Liam froze again.

Noah stepped forward.

One slow, steady step.

Then another.

And another.

His chest rose and fell, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. Blood still on his hand. Blood still on his lips.

Liam took a half-step back.

“Noah—please—I said I was sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you—I just—”

But Noah didn’t say a word.

He took one final step.

Liam flinched.

He squeezed his eyes shut, breath hitching, fists at his sides. He didn’t raise his hands. He didn’t duck. Just braced himself like he expected the punch.

And then—

The impact.

Forceful.

But not a fist.

Lips.

It slammed into Liam like a car crash. Like he’d been thrown into his own skin too fast. The force of it rocked him back on his heels. Their mouths collided, wet and shaking.

Liam’s eyes flew open—Noah was right there. Inches from his face. Soaked. Bleeding. Furious. Alive.

Kissing him.

Eyes open.

Staring Liam down like he was daring him to disappear.

And Liam—

Liam’s instincts ignited.

His mouth parted. Closed his eyes.

Noah surged forward again—lips crashing deeper into his.

Rougher this time.

Like he was taking something back.

His tongue forced into Liam’s mouth.

It was violent. Messy.

Liam could taste it. The gravity. The rain. The blood.

Noah’s hand was on the back of his head now, dragging him in like prey, like fuel. His other arm slid around Liam’s waist, fingers digging in, pulling him up against his own soaked naked torso. Grinding their hips together like he needed to leave a mark.

Liam moaned into it—shocked and gasping—adrenaline surging again, his hoodie clinging to his back like skin.

He didn’t know what to do.

Didn’t know if he was kissing back or just breathing against Noah’s mouth.

It felt like drowning.

It felt like being found in the flood.

And he just let it happen.

He had never felt anything like it.

Noah’s lips were rough. Too warm for the rain. He kissed like he didn’t know how to pace himself—like he was trying to bruise Liam into understanding.

He bit on Liam’s lower lip, not enough to break skin but enough to make it ache. He sucked on it once—slow—until Liam whimpered against his mouth, the sting sending heat straight down his spine.

The hand on the back of his head didn’t move. It held him there, firm, fingers dug into his hair like letting go wasn’t an option.

And shit, this wasn’t like kissing a girl.

It wasn’t soft, polite, coy. There was no tilt of the head, no careful sweetness. This was pressure. Animal. Raw.

It was a body—hard, solid—crushing him into place.

It was dizzying and wrong

And fucking perfect.

So he surrendered to Noah.

Liam’s left hand reached up and found Noah’s forearm—gripping tight, fingertips brushing soaked skin, he felt his arms muscles flexing and contracting every time Noah rocked him into the kiss. He could feel the tension, the urgency building under Noah’s skin.

His other hand slid higher, past the collarbone, past the edge of the bleeding lip—fingertips curling around the back of Noah’s neck, thumb pressing just behind his jaw.

The rhythm changed. Deepened.

Noah’s hips pressed forward again—harder this time.

And Liam felt it.

Noah’s cock. Thickening. Getting hard.

Right against his thigh now. Hot and real and fucking there.

Noah groaned as he shoved his tongue deeper like he didn’t even care what Liam did now.

But Liam didn’t back off.

Wasn’t flinching anymore.

Noah’s hand curled tighter in his hair, hips rolling again—slow, obscene—dragging his dick along Liam’s thigh like he needed the friction just to stay upright.

The kiss stretched longer.

Longer than Liam had ever kissed anyone.

And then it slowed.

Became something else.

Still breathless. Still aching. But slower. Less punishment. Less violence.

Their lips hovered. Pressed once. Again. Then drifted.

Noah didn’t pull away—he just paused. Nose brushing Liam’s. Breath static. Eyes flickering somewhere else.

Still so close their foreheads nearly touched.

Then Noah whispered—quiet, eyes unfocused, like he was watching something over Liam’s shoulder.

“Everything.”

A beat.

“I lied.”

Liam’s stomach clenched. But Noah’s hands didn’t let go.

His fingers still threading through Liam’s hair, not yanking—holding. Not like before. This wasn’t control.

It was fear.

Right?

But he didn’t answer.

He couldn’t. Literally.

His throat felt tight. His eyes burned. His chest ached so deeply it didn’t even feel like his anymore.

He swallowed hard.

And then—slowly—he leaned forward. Let his forehead touch Noah’s shoulder.

Then his whole face.

Just… rested there.

He inhaled. Deep. Shaky. Like trying not to fall apart.

“You’re an asshole.”

His voice was so small.

Barely a breath against Noah’s hot skin.

Noah froze.

Then—after a pause—his voice low, heavy with breath:

“Yeah… I am.”

A beat.

“And you’re a dumbass.”

Liam exhaled something between a laugh and a sob.

It puffed into Noah’s collarbone, barely a sound. But it cracked something.

His shoulder shook once.

Then again.

Liam laughed.

For real this time.

Tiny. Broken. Grateful.

Right into Noah’s neck.

They stood there, for a while.

Soaked, pressed into each other. In silence. Noah’s hand still curled in Liam’s hair, the other across his back, slow breaths ghosting over Liam’s shoulder.

Then—

Casually:

“Uh.” Noah cleared his throat. “Is it cool if I crash at your place?”

Noah pulled back just enough to look at him.

“I mean…” He gestured vaguely at himself, at the soaked pants, the blood still smeared across his mouth. “My mom’s gonna flip.”

Liam blinked. Still dazed. Brain slow.

Noah tilted his head.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing at his face. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Noah didn’t thank him. Just nodded. “Cool.”

And they started walking.

Side by side. Down the middle of the road.

Their steps were uneven at first. Liam’s heart was still somewhere in his throat. Noah’s arm brushed his once.

Neither of them said anything else.

The walk didn’t take long.

It just felt like it.

By the time they reached Liam’s house, Noah’s curls were stuck to his forehead and Liam’s hands were going numb.

He unlocked the front door with shaky fingers.

Darkness.

No Dylan.

Thank fuck.

Noah hovered in the doorway, dripping silently onto the rug. Liam wiped his feet out of habit and muttered, “Wait here,” before heading upstairs.

The house was quiet.

No footsteps. No flickering TV.

Liam peeked into the guest room just in case. Empty bed. Unused sheets. And the tension in his chest finally loosened.

He exhaled, hard.

Grabbed two towels. Two pairs of sweatpants from his drawer.

When he came back down, Noah was still standing in the entryway like a wet street cat. Liam tossed him a towel and a dry pair of pants.

“Thanks,” Noah said, low and weirdly polite.

They both dried off in the living room in silence. Peeling off soggy layers. Rubbing down their hair. Swapping jeans for sweats with minimal fanfare.

When they were done, they just… sat.

Side by side on the couch.

Not touching.

Just existing.

The only sound was the rain ticking against the windows, softer now.

Liam stared at the blank TV screen. His heart had stopped doing cartwheels, but something else—something heavier—was still in there. He felt good, weirdly. Like something awful had cracked open and something better had started bleeding out. But still—

A part of him was still hurt.

He needed to know.

He needed to understand.

So he took a breath.

Turned toward Noah. Mouth already open.

But Noah beat him to it.

“I’m not good with words,” he mumbled. “Or like… feelings. Or whatever.”

Liam blinked.

Then—unexpectedly—laughed. Soft and real.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I got that.”

Noah smiled at the floor. One side of his mouth twitching.

“Fuck off.”

The words were automatic. No heat behind them. Just a stupid little smirk and a red face and a world of tension hiding behind his shoulders.

Liam gave it some time.

Until finally:

“What happened?”

Noah didn’t move.

“And why did you say all of that… stuff?”

Liam looked down at his hands. “That was really shitty… I told you, like, so many times, I wasn’t snooping around. It just happened.”

A beat.

Noah sighed.

“…I don’t know, man,” he said, still staring at the floor. “Like…”

He leaned forward a little, elbows on knees. His voice was tight but quiet.

“When you told me you knew… I just… I looked at you, and I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“Pity, dude,” Noah muttered. “Like everyone else who knows. That fucking look, man. I hate it. I don’t need people feeling sorry for me. I don’t want people in my shit—knowing stuff, thinking about it. It’s my fucking life.”

Another pause. His leg bounced.

“Felt weird,” he added, quieter. “Like… I don’t know.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I hate that.”

Liam opened his mouth. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, man, I know,” Noah cut in. “I fucking know you didn’t. Shit. That’s the thing. That’s the worst part.”

His fingers gripped his knees.

“I didn’t hate it.”

A beat.

“That you knew.”

Another beat.

“Shit—” he huffed, almost under his breath. “That was new.”

He glanced sideways, just once.

A pause.

“My life is great.” He laughed, but it came out flat. “It is. I have it all handled. Always do.”

He swallowed. “Like… I don’t need shit to make it feel better.”

“That’s fucked up.”

His lip curled, like it left a bad taste. “I don’t. I fucking don’t.”

Noah breathed out again.

“…it just freaked me the fuck out.”

Liam sat still. Watching him.

Watching Noah finally admit that something scared him.

Watching Noah be… vulnerable.

It reminded him of the Noah he saw hugging his dad that day.

And that did something to Liam. Something warm. Something tender, complicated and big.

Because he knew how hard that was for him.

Not just the words—but the surrender. The admission.

The chasing after him. In the rain.

The fact that Noah didn’t look at him when he said it.

That his voice stayed low.

That his hands were gripping his own knees like they were the only thing keeping him from bolting.

Liam felt it all.

It came in jagged waves, unspoken.

That was Noah’s apology.

Not in words.

But in effort. Action.

His language.

And Liam heard it loud and fucking clear.

“…I felt good too,” Liam said quietly. “Knowing. About your dad, I mean. Not good like… entertained, or some shit. Just—good that I knew. Because I care. Not pity. Swear to God, it’s not pity. I just…” He let out a breath. “I want to be there for you. As your friend, you know?”

Noah scoffed, low and dry.

“Right… friends.”

Liam looked at him.

“That’s another thing,” Noah muttered, rubbing his thumb under his eye. “I don’t usually go around making out with my friends in the rain. Shirtless. At night. Like I’m in some shitty high school drama.”

Liam’s throat tightened. But he didn’t look away.

Noah rubbed a hand over his cut lip, then let it drop into his lap. “I never—kissed a dude before. Like—ever. So. Add that to the list of things that are making me lose my goddamn mind lately.”

There was a pause, heavy but not cold.

“I haven’t either,” Liam said. “Kissed a guy. Or done… a lot of shit I’ve been doing since you showed up.” He swallowed.

Noah didn’t say anything. But Liam clocked the recognition. The irony hitting him.

“This is fucking weird for me too. Like—a lot.”

Noah didn’t say anything.

“And I—Sort of liked it. The, uhm, kiss and stuff.”

Liam paused

“Did you…?”

Noah pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, hard.

“Yeah. Sort of.”

A beat.

“Like, I don’t know what’s going on” Liam waited, his chest buzzing. Then, with the weakest smile, he said, “But maybe we should try, you know… getting out of our heads.”

Noah let out a small chuckle, hands still covering his eyes. “You think you’re funny?”

“I think that was a great line,” Liam said. Vindicated.

Noah let out a short breath, almost a laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. His smirk had slipped away, even if he hadn’t raised his head. And then:

“I’ve done some fucked up shit, dude.”

Liam tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“To you,” Noah said. “I did it to you.”

He paused.

“Even this whole thing—” he gestured between them.

Noah went on.

“Listen, man … the cabin trip. The fight with Ashley. And how—”

Liam cut in, squinting a little. “You planned that.”

Noah’s head snapped up, startled—eyebrows twitching together like he’d been caught mid-thought.

“You wanted us to be alone,” Liam said, quieter. Not accusatory. Just… putting it there. Laying it between them.

Noah blinked, caught. But before he could deny it or explain, Liam looked down and added, “I’m not that much of a dumbass, you know. I notice things.”

Noah’s mouth parted slightly. “Then why—”

“I don’t know—like—maybe it didn’t bother me as much as it should’ve,” Liam said. His voice was smaller now, but firm. He looked up again, eyes catching Noah’s. “Especially after everything you’ve done for me.”

That did something. Something subtle. Noah’s face changed—brows pinched, mouth tense, eyes flashing with something Liam couldn’t name.

Noah shook his head slightly. “It’s not just that. There’s more. A lot more shit.”

A beat. Two.

Liam nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure there is.”

Liam felt oddly in control, for once.

It hit him as he watched Noah’s face shift—caught off guard, genuinely unsure for the first time. He hadn’t even meant to corner him, but there he was, sitting calm and steady while Noah fumbled for words.

It was exhilarating. Kind of thrilling. Something sharp and hot buzzed in his chest.

And then—

Noah stood up.

Slowly.

He stepped in front of Liam, still seated, and looked down at him for a second. Quiet. unreadable. Then his hands came up—light, but firm—and wrapped around Liam’s throat. Just enough pressure to tilt his head up and make Liam stand a little. To make him look at him.

Liam blinked, breath catching.

“Hey—“

But Noah leaned in. Close enough that Liam could feel his breath on his lips. His eyes locked onto Liam’s.

“Say you want me to fuck you,” Noah said—calm, steady, unimpressed.

Like the request was just a formality.

His thumbs pressed lightly into Liam’s throat, increasingly hard, enough to anchor him there, tilted up, eyes locked.

The switch flipped so fast—Noah was back in his setting, back in control, radiating heat and certainty. It yanked Liam right out of that rare high-ground moment and slammed him into the rush of being owned.

Liam’s heart beat stupidly hard.

He stared up at Noah, not speaking yet. He felt the pressure of those hands—not threatening, just possessive—and everything in him twisted.

Liam swallowed hard.

His voice barely held steady.

“…I—I want you to fuck me.”

Noah didn’t move at first. He just watched him.

Then slowly—so slowly—he leaned in.

Closer. Closer. Until Liam thought he was going to kiss him again. He even tilted his head a little, expectant, mouth parting.

But instead—

Noah spat.

Right on his lips.

Pure saliva. Warm. Wet. The weight of it caught Liam off guard—he flinched slightly, eyes wide, breath hitching.

Then Noah’s voice, low and calm and perfectly unimpressed:

“Again.”

A pause.

“And add please.”

Liam’s lips were still parted. He could taste him. Feel the slow slide of spit slipping down the corner of his mouth.

Humiliation and heat.

“…Please,” he said, quieter, looking away. “I want you to fuck me.”

Liam’s lips were still parted, the taste of Noah still on his tongue.

His face was burning, chest tight, and Noah hadn’t moved—not really. He was just standing there, watching him, like Liam was some obedient little thing waiting for instructions.

Noah’s hands fell from Liam’s throat, slow and deliberate, and Liam went back to sitting on the couch. No words.

He pulled out his growing cock. Thick. Already half-hard.

“Open,” he said.

Flat. Final.

Liam blinked. “I—”

Noah grabbed a fistful of his hair. “Do it.”

Liam’s mouth opened on instinct.

And immediately Noah walked forward until cock brushed his tongue.

The weight of it landed heavy, warm, the taste immediate and familiar. Liam’s eyes fluttered. It was like pressure and presence all at once—resting on his tongue like it belonged there.

His jaw slackened on reflex, the tip sliding in deeper.

He felt the veins. The heat. The pulse.

He breathed through his nose, tried to take more, clumsy and overeager, but his throat tightened with the stretch. His breath hitched—eyes watering already—and Noah didn’t move. Didn’t help. Just watched him work for it.

“Did you miss it?” Noah asked—low, casual. Like it wasn’t even a question.

Liam’s eyes lifted, already glassy. He tried to nod, but Noah didn’t let him move.

“No,” he said, voice like heat. “Look at me.”

Liam blinked hard, throat twitching around him.

Their eyes locked.

Liam’s lips trembled. Then—slowly, shakily—he nodded.

Noah smirked.

Liam whimpered, throat tensing. He couldn’t breathe right.

Noah’s hips pushed forward, just once. Enough to make Liam choke, cough, and blink back water.

The head slipped past his throat with that familiar POP. Buried deep. Liam gagged around it, body twitching, throat stretching as Noah lodged himself there—claiming it back. Noah went forward again and more dick went in.

Then Noah looked down at him—jaw tight, eyes dark.

“Fuck, little buddy,” he muttered, voice barely a breath. “Your throat remembers me.”

His hand slid into Liam’s hair, tightening.

“Get it wet, alright?” Noah said. Quiet. Commanding.

He thrust again, just a few centimeters, dragging across Liam’s tongue. Slow.

Liam whined around him, eyes glossy, hands gripping Noah’s thighs like handles, trying to push him away. He hollowed his cheeks, trying to move his head.

Noah’s eyes stayed locked to his.

Unblinking.

“Why you pushing me away, baby girl?” he said low. “You just said you missed it.”

Liam’s gaze flicked up—caught in Noah’s—and slowly, shakily… he nodded again.

“Good girl. But I don’t wanna cum in your mouth,” he said, voice low. “I need to be inside your pussy.”

Noah pulled out, spit-slick and glistening, his cock heavy, veins thick, breath coming through his nose sharp and flared.

Liam coughed, trying to breathe around the stretch that still lingered in his throat. His jaw ached. His lips were wet.

Then—a shove.

Like Noah needed him somewhere else. Now.

“Move,” Noah said. His hand clamped around Liam’s arm, dragging him, manhandling him, toward the stairs.

Liam stumbled, breathless, and got shoved again—harder this time, landing on the bed with a bounce, legs splayed open.

Noah was already there.

Climbing over him.

Knees on either side. Broad shoulders shadowing him.

“On your back,” he ordered. “Legs up.”

Liam obeyed instantly. His heart was a thunderstorm.

Noah yanked Liam’s pants up and out, hard.

He sat back on his haunches, grabbed his own cock, and spit into his palm—raw, casual, filthy. He slicked himself up, slow strokes, never taking his eyes off Liam.

Then he aligned himself. Pressed the fat, slick head right to Liam’s asslips.

Liam twitched.

Noah leaned in.

“What do you want?”

Liam blinked, lips parted, breath shallow.

Liam wanted Noah to go slow—but he knew that wasn’t what Noah wanted to hear.

Noah pressed forward slightly—just enough for Liam to feel it stretch, threaten.

“I said…” Noah’s voice dropped to a growl. “What do you want?”

Liam swallowed. “I—I want—”

Noah shoved his hips forward another inch—not inside, not yet, but close enough to burn.

“Go on.”

“I want you—” Liam’s voice cracked. “I want you to fuck me—”

Noah clicked his tongue. “Still not it.”

His fingers dug into Liam’s thighs, spreading him wider. The heat of him pulsed right there, right fucking there, and Liam’s body arched on instinct.

“Say what I wanna hear. Use that dirty fucking mouth.”

Noah’s cock twitched at the edge.

“Say it, baby girl.”

And just like that, Liam’s stomach dropped.

He knew what he wanted.

What he’d been waiting to hear.

Liam’s lips parted, breath catching as the pieces clicked. The word Noah wanted. The one Liam hated.

“Noah, I—”

Liam turned to look at him—

—but Noah was already staring.

Menacing.

It stopped the thought cold in Liam’s head.

A tight breath left Liam’s lungs.

His jaw clenched.

Goddamnit.

“I want you to—” Liam hesitated, cheeks burning. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Fuck my pussy…”

He couldn’t even look at Noah when he said it. His eyes darted to the side, mortified—like the words had spilled out of someone else’s mouth.

A silence.

Then a hum of satisfaction.

“Gooood girl.”

And with one brutal, perfect thrust, Noah pushed his hard dick all the way in.

Deep.

To his balls.

Liam cried out—high, wrecked—fingers curling into the sheets as his whole body arched up.

“NGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH— UHHH—” His neck veins popping out.

Noah was still.

Just stayed there. Inside him. Full and pulsating.

Liam continued gasping—his back arched, eyes wide. The stretch burned, his body clenching automatically around Noah.

“F–fuck,” he hissed, voice breaking. His hands gripped the sheets. “It—hurts, SHIT—”

“Yeah.” Flat. Almost absent. “My cock does that.”

Liam’s breath hitched, broken, his whole body trembling around him.

Noah looked away.

Actually looked away. Like something on the wall was more interesting.

“Are you done?”

He stayed buried, slow grind of his hips locking them together. Unrelenting.

Liam writhed beneath him, thighs twitching, lips trembling. His moans were soft, panicked, punched out of him with every slight shift of Noah’s hips. But through the haze, he caught a glimpse of Noah’s face.

Eyes narrowed. Brows pulled together.

Not with effort.

With… thought.

He looked analytical. Like he was concentrating.

Liam moaned, voice shaky. “What—nghh—”

Noah’s head tilted just slightly. Then he clicked his tongue, low and smug.

“Fucking Dylan, man.”

Liam’s eyes flew open.

Noah didn’t clarify.

He just started moving—slow, deep strokes, like he was mapping the inside of him. Like he was confirming a theory.

Liam flushed all the way to his ears.

Could he tell Dylan had…

And as if Noah heard him:

“Yeah,” Noah smirked, breath hot against his jaw. “I can tell, you dumb faggot.”

Liam froze. Still in pain.

His breath caught, eyes blinking fast. The word cut sharp through the heat, through the haze. His hands pressed against Noah’s chest—instinct.

“Hey,” Liam said, startled. “Don’t—call me—”

Noah shifted.

His hips angled, found his little spot. Buried the head of his cock into it.

Liam’s sentence broke.

His mouth fell open around a sound that wasn’t a word—just a high, choked moan, drawn out from the exact point of weakness. His body arched into it before he even realized.

“HoooOOOOLYY—wait.”

Noah didn’t blink.

He held Liam’s gaze, smug, eyes dark with amusement and something a little meaner. He kept the pressure steady, deep, as Liam felt his resistance crumble.

“You were saying?” he chuckled.

Liam was hard—leaking, throbbing—but he didn’t dare touch himself.

Noah wouldn’t like that.

He leaned over him, his cock still deep inside, his hand rising—slow, deliberate—to Liam’s throat.

Tight.

His right thumb brushed Liam’s pulse, pressing.

Liam shivered.

“I’m gonna teach you something,” Noah murmured, voice low, warm, terrifying in how sure it was. His fingers tightened, just enough to make Liam’s breath catch.

“That this—” he pushed his cock in and out of his hole, slow and deep, “This is mine.”

Liam gasped, lips parted, eyes fluttering. Fuck it felt good. Why did it feel so fucking good? He could feel the fat head of Noah’s cock drag along that perfect, cursed, spot inside him.

Noah’s hand pressed his neck harder still. Anchoring. Like a collar.

His other hand was planted beside Liam’s head, firm against the mattress—and he was towering over him now, chest heaving, casting him in shadow.

“You don’t fuck anyone else anymore,” he whispered, mouth close to Liam’s. “You don’t even think about anyone else.”

Liam moaned, brain melting, as heat surged through his hips—every nerve lit up, stretched wide around Noah’s cock.

“You come for me.”

Another thrust.

“You beg for me.”

Another.

“You breathe for me.”

His grip pressed harder with each word, in sync with his hips, as if he was syncing Liam’s body to his own rhythm. It was hard to breathe.

“You got that, baby?” he asked. A little softer. But no less serious.

Liam barely managed a whimper, head tipping back into the bed. He could feel himself get weaker. His head spun. His peripheral vision fizzled out, dark and soft, until the only thing anchoring him was Noah’s dick still making him melt inside.

“Dizzy—” Liam’s voice came out in a stuttering rasp, barely audible. “C-can’t… breathe…”

His lips were parted, trembling. His chest heaved, every gasp shallow, frantic. His muscles felt like jelly, eyes flickering with dark edges closing in on his vision.

And when his gaze found Noah’s—when he saw that slow, smug smile.

“Yeah, dumbass,” Noah chuckled, almost tender through the condescension, “that’s kinda the point. Answer me.”

And Liam—Liam nodded. His whole body shivered like he understood something ancient. Something primal.

Noah loosened his grip.

Immediately, Liam inhaled hard, relief blooming behind his ribs.

Noah’s pace quickened—each thrust sharper, more deliberate.

His brows twitched. “Your neck’s… soft as fuck.” The words came out like a revelation, low and breathless.

Liam blinked up at him, still dazed—

Noah’s face lit up.

He shifted forward, folding Liam in tighter—his ankles still over Noah’s shoulders.

Liam felt the stretch in his hamstrings as Noah dipped down, lips finding Liam’s neck.

The suction hit fast. Possessive.

Liam’s hands scrambled for his arms. “Don’t—Noah, please, stop” he gasped, voice thin, barely there.

Noah froze—only for a second.

His hands braced on either side of Liam’s head. He looked down, eyes blazing.

“No.”

Then he dove back in, mouth dragging over Liam’s throat, movements rougher now.

Noah was pulling his slick cock all the way out now—every inch—just to shove it back in til his pubes grazed Liam’s hole, over and over, stripping Liam of whatever resistance he had left.

His mouth already hung open, his drool pooling onto the pillow beneath his cheek when his arms lifted instinctively to wrap around Noah’s flexing sweaty back, and somewhere in the haze, he felt Noah smile into his neck.

After a moment, Noah pulled off his neck, dragging his mouth away with a wet, possessive sound. He straightened his spine, looming above Liam—still buried deep, cock throbbing—and looked down on his neck with a cocky glint in his eyes.

“Looks good on you, little buddy,” Noah said, voice dripping mockery.

Humiliation poured through Liam’s chest like syrup, sweet and mortifying. He opened his mouth to protest—but then Noah’s hands landed on his chest. His thumbs flicked over Liam’s nipples.

And Liam arched.

A full-body tremor seized him. His head fell back like it weighed a ton, mouth open, breath catching. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling, and a broken slutty moan slid out of him, thick and uncontrolled.

“Mmmmmmm—sooooooo—uh—uh—uh—Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm—”

Then Noah went faster.

Liam gasped—loud, sharp, like he’d been punched and kissed at the same time. His back bowed . His arms shook. His thighs twitched where they were hooked up on Noah’s shoulders.

Eyes unfocused. Cheeks flushed. A little unnatural smile twitching at the corners of his slack mouth, dreamy and mindfucked.

“Noa—ah—oh fuck—oh fuck—oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkk—Nghhhh”

Noah watches him unravel, head tilted like he’s studying a zoo exhibit.

“What the fuck are you even saying, dude?”

Liam whimpers, trying to string a word together, failing. Noah doesn’t let up.

“Nah, try again. Go on, give me another one of those dumbass sounds. You know the one—‘ahhh–mhhh–mmmhh’ like you’re about to cry?”

He presses down harder, fingers cruelly gentle, and Liam bucks like a puppet with cut strings—Noah’s fat cock still grinding just right against that spot inside him, sending a white-hot shock up his spine like his brain just short-circuited. He’s being stretched out. His thighs twitch. A strangled moan spills out before he even hears it coming.

“Yup, that’s the one,” Noah laughs, actually laughs, low and amused.

“You look so happy, baby girl.”

Liam’s eyes roll back, lips parted in a full on sloppy grin, drool tracing down his chin as he lets out a garbled, “uhhhnnnnnnnnnnn—” like he’s high off it. His whole face lights up—glassy, euphoric, ruined. Pure blissed-out stupid.

“You look so fucking stupid,” Noah snorts, “actually missed retarding you down like that.”

Liam could feel his cock, hard as a rock, dripping on his abs for the entire time.

Noah slowed his thrusts.

He leans in, cock still deep, tone all venom and velvet:

“What the fuck—” Noah actually stops. Looks down at him. “Are you seriously about to nut right now.”

Not a question. More like he’s just cataloguing something mildly absurd.

“You’re not even touching your little thing.” He laughs—short, quiet, almost to himself.

“That’s embarrassing.”

He laughs, mean and smug.

“You missed my fat cock that much, little buddy?” Noah says, voice all gravel and control, “Well, too bad, you’re not fucking cuming.”

Liam whimpers something incoherent, thighs twitching, and Noah grabs his face, forcing eye contact. He was getting so close.

“No no no—please let me—pleeeeeease”

Noah squints down at him, annoyed as fuck.

“Stop whining. You cum right now and I don’t touch you for a month." Just matter of fact.

“I’ll edge you open every night and shoot on your gooner face. You won’t get shit.”

Liam gasps like that alone nearly made him lose it.

“Do you fucking understand me?”

A beat.

“…Y-yeah, but—”

“Do you?”

Liam nods fast, lip trembling, brain leaking from his ears. “Yes. Yes, I—I won’t. I won’t. But then—”

Noah cuts him off

“Yeah. You fucking missed this, didn’t you?”

He slams into him, hard, fast, ruthless—every thrust brutal and precise, now with his fingers circling Liam’s nipples in slow, cruel spirals, dragging out every little twitch Liam has to offer.

“Look at you. You’re gone. That’s right, bro, let go, let fucking go. Give it to me.”

Liam sobs, delirious, body convulsing. Noah leans in, voice hot and vicious against his cheek:

“Hey, fuckface? Control yourself. You’re gonna take it. You’re gonna like it, yeah? You wanna keep taking this fat, teenage cock? Then you fucking show me you can handle it.”

Liam’s whining now, drooling, desperate, clenching down his hole like he’s trying to hold on for dear life. Eyes glazed, full on drool everywhere in his lower face, and he actually gasps—legs still trembling around Noah’s shoulders.

“N-Noah—p-please—c-can you—just—fuck, j-just stop with my—my n-nipples—”

He whines again, voice cracking.

“I-I can’t—if you keep—ahh—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Noah laughs, breath hot against his cheek, fingers still circling lazily. Then finally pulls his hands away from Liam’s chest, slow and smug, like he’s granting a royal favor.

“Fine, baby girl. No more tit play. Happy?”

Liam exhales in a shattered gasp, like he just got CPR from God himself.

But then Noah slams his entire cock in. Hard, grinding deep and slow.

“Duuuuude, feel that?” he murmurs darkly, lips brushing Liam’s ear. “How hard I am inside your soft little fuckhole?”

Liam sobs again, hips jerking helplessly.

Noah doesn’t stop.

“You can do it, baby. Make me proud. Hold that girl orgasm for me.”

“Just a little more,” he pants.

“Shit going in and out of you feels unreal. You’re being such a good girl, bro.”

What’s left of Liam’s brain is on fire. Every muscle is locked in survival mode. He’s doing everything to hold back—breathing slow, squeezing his fists, thinking about anything but the veiny, raw, cock drilling into him.

He won’t even let his mind touch the image of Noah’s hips slamming into his ass because he knows the second he does, he’s finished.

And fucking Noah keeps dragging him closer. It’s like trying to hold water in his hands while someone pours gasoline on his back.

He’s not gonna make it. He knows he’s not.

He’s gonna cum.

So he has an idea. A filthy, desperate idea.

He swallows his pride, stutters once, and then blurts it out like a loaded gun:

“N-Noah—fuck—knock me up—please—just knock me up—”

Noah goes completely still.

Not the controlled stillness from before. Different. Like something just short-circuited.

He exhales through his teeth—slow, sharp—and when he speaks his voice is lower. Rougher. Like he had to drag it up from somewhere.

“Say that again and I’m not responsible for what happens to you.”

But Liam’s too close. So instead, he doubles down.

“Do it,” he gasps, voice ragged. “Fill me up. Make me your fucking cumdump—please—just cum! PLEASE!!”

Noah snaps.

Slams in.

Fucking deep.

No warning.

Liam’s entire body jerks forward, a broken cry ripping out of him.

Then he pulls out—all the way, tip barely catching at the rim—

And the fat cock goes back in.

Balls deep.

“You asked for it,” Noah growls, pulling back and slamming in again. Harder. “Don’t fucking cry now.”

Another thrust.

Deeper.

Liam can feel it everywhere—in his stomach, his chest, his throat.

“Fuck—yes—” Noah’s breathing hard now, rhythm brutal and unrelenting. “Take it—take all of it—”

His hands grip Liam’s hips bruisingly tight, yanking him back to meet every thrust.

“This what you wanted, baby?” Noah’s voice is wrecked, filthy. “Wanted me to fuck you like the desperate little bitch you are?”

Liam can’t answer.

Can’t breathe.

Just takes it.

"Answer me!

“YES—” Liam sobs. “YES—please—I want you to CUM! DO IT!”

Noah laughs—breathless, dark.

“What the actual fuck, dude? You’re disgusting. Begging for my cum? You want me to breed you, huh? Like some stupid slut?”

Every word makes Liam twitch harder. His head’s thrown back, jaw slack, body a live wire about to short.

He’s right there.

But right as his vision whites out—right as he feels his body is going to past the point of no return—

Noah lets out with a guttural growl,

“YOOOO—I’m nutting, FUCK—Imma knock you up, baby girl, fuck, fuck—”

And the first rope of thick jizz goes out of his piss slit, inside Liam with one final thrust—and he stops, fully inside.

“Holy shit—HOLYYY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT—TAKE IT SUCK IT OUT OF ME WITH YOUR PUSSY—FUCKKK—”

Liam’s legs kick out as Noah yelled, whole body convulsing, but he doesn’t cum.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That was so fucking close.

Barely.

Somehow.

He fucking did it.

He exhales, relieved.

Liam can feel Noah’s sweaty chest pressed against his, rising and falling as he breathes through the aftershocks.

And Noah’s cock is relentlessly throbbing inside his hole, pulsating rope after rope of jizz. Swelling and deflating, still stretching. Every shot of Noah’s cum hits hard right onto his little spot.

He realizes it’s not over.

“I—Oh my god—your—”

Then, instantly—

“DON’T MOVE., Noah, do not fucking move—WHAT—”

His thighs are shaking, breath hitching with every giant twitch from Noah’s cockhead still inside him. Still keeping him right on the edge.

Noah chuckles against his neck, breath still heavy.

“Pussy’s that close, huh?”

He shifts his hips—just a little—then throbs on purpose. Just enough to threaten.

Liam screeches.

“NOAH—NO. Don’t fucking do that!”

Noah freezes, grinning like an asshole.

“Okay, okay! Jesus, calm down.”

Then, lower—smug as ever:

“God, I’m still filling you up so good right now. You feel that?”

Yeah. He did. That was the problem.

Noah’s cock. Seeding him. Deep.

“Fuck—You’re a dick.”

Noah smirks.

“Literally.”

They lie there in silence for a long moment, both catching their breath. Liam can feel Noah’s cock start to soften, slowly inside him.

Noah breaks the silence first, voice low and lazy.

“Can I move now, princess?”

Liam swallows, still twitching a little.

“I… I think so.”

Noah pulls out, slow and careful.

Wet.

Sticky.

Liam winces as the cock slides out of him, groaning.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck—nghhh—”

Noah flops down beside him with a heavy exhale, arm behind his head like he just clocked out of a long shift.

He glances down, and his eyes land on Liam’s cock—still hard, throbbing, leaking like it’s been sobbing the whole time.

Noah snorts.

“Wait. Dude, were you trying to cum or something?”

He puts on a mock-sympathetic face.

“Shit, you should’ve said something.”

Liam groans, pushes a pillow into his face, burning.

Then

…Oh.

What—

He can… feel it.

Warm. Slippery. Leaking from his insides.

He groans in horror and starts to get up.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Noah asks, not even opening his eyes.

“Bathroom—”

Liam hesitates, already halfway off the bed.

Noah turns his head, voice flat and final:

“Nah. My nut’s staying in you.”

Liam gapes.

“Bro. It feels… gross!”

“Don’t care.”

Noah stretches, completely unbothered.

“Come back to bed.”

Liam grumbles but slides back under the sheets, defeated and oozing Noah’s DNA.

Noah slaps a lazy hand over Liam’s hip like a paperweight.

“You worked hard for that nut, little buddy—you’re gonna keep it warm for me, yeah?”

Then, more serious—almost threatening:

“’Cause if I see even one drop on the sheets… I’m stuffing it back in with my fingers.”

Liam groans into the pillow again.

“Jesus christ”

Noah smirks.

Liam glares at him through one eye, then reaches down, grabs the blanket from the floor, and flings it over both of them.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep like this…”

Noah shrugs, already settling in like a smug little king.

“You’ll get used to the feeling eventually.”

Liam doesn’t reply. But his chest tightens—just a little.

He turns off the light.

The room goes quiet, and his thoughts start to swirl. Everything feels like it happened so fast. The porch. The rain. The fight. The elbow. And…Noah.

There was a version of Noah tonight he’s never seen before. Still a cocky asshole, sure—but there was something else now. Something… changed.

Liam didn’t know how to feel about it.

Actually, that’s a lie—he did. He felt good.

And he remembered Noah telling him he was freaking out—because things felt good. He understood. He was feeling it right now.

He was ready to lie there all night, on his side, overanalyzing every breath, every word, every shift in their dynamic—running it in loops until he can’t tell what’s what anymore.

Even if his cock was still hard. Still fucking leaking. Painfully. Uselessly.

Until—

He feels movement behind him.

Noah’s arm snakes around his chest—his left one, lazy and heavy—and Noah presses close, bare and warm, spooning him from behind. He can feel his breathing. His soft dick on his cheeks.

Liam freezes, breath catching.

Noah is quiet for a second. Just stays there, holding him.

Then, like a punchline thrown over his shoulder:

“I’m just cold. Don’t get any fucking ideas.”

Liam pauses.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything…”

But he feels the pull of a smile tugging at his mouth.

And a few minutes later, he’s asleep.

---

Liam sat cross-legged on the couch in a loose shirt and sweatpants, a bowl of eggs and yogurt balanced on his thigh.

Noah came out of the kitchen, shaking up the daily monstrosity he made Liam drink every morning. Protein, bananas, and BCAA probably. He handed it over without a word, then flopped down beside him with a grunt.

Liam took the bottle, looked at it, sipped.

“Huh,” he muttered. “I actually… missed this.”

Noah raised an eyebrow without turning his head, smirking like he’d won something.

“I’m sure you did.” he said, grinning, mouth full of toast.

He took a big sip. It was gross. But it also kinda wasn’t.

They settled in—Noah with one leg hooked up on the couch, Liam sitting cross-legged again, their phones lighting their faces in the soft morning quiet. Every few seconds one of them would snort or show the other something dumb. A reel. A tweet. A meme.

Liam glanced over at him—shirtless, one hand lazily scrolling, the other lifting his coffee mug with the handle facing the wrong direction. Like nothing had ever happened.

This is insane, Liam thought. Weeks ago, they’re weren’t even speaking. And now…

His gaze caught on the thin strip of medical tape wrapped around Noah’s left-hand knuckles.

“…What happened to your hand?”

Noah barely looked up. “Don’t worry about it.”

That was it. No elaboration. Just that calm, clipped voice like he wasn’t even trying to make it sound casual.

Liam didn’t push. Just nodded, letting the silence stretch, he got up, collecting their dishes, asshole a little sore, but moving fine.

As he opened the fridge, he glanced back once, chewing on the thought.

He got into a fight for sure. Fucking freak.

A crooked smile tugged at his mouth before he could stop it.

Freak, he thought again.

He hummed something tuneless as he rinsed the plates, smiling at nothing.

His phone buzzed on the counter.

He glanced down, thumb swiping the screen.

Weird. His new boss never texted. It was always email. Trello updates. Passive-aggressive Slack threads. Never this.

He opened it.

[11:07 AM] Liam, I know it’s Saturday, but the client isn’t happy on last week’s direction. We need to regroup before Monday. Schedule something this weekend. You’re leading it, so let the team know what time works.

Liam blinked at it.

He felt the familiar coil of responsibility tighten behind his ribs. The kind that made his pulse thud in his temples.

He thumbed the screen, already thinking about time zones, windows between meals, and whether he could recycle that template from last week’s call.

Maybe this late afternoon. Give people time. Maybe Sunday. That could work.

He exhaled through his nose. What didn’t the client like though? It was probably the—

DING DONG.

“Noah!” he yelled, flicking the water off his fingers. “Can you get that? It’s probably Amazon or something.”

A beat. He went back to the dishes. And overthinking work.

Then Noah’s voice came, a little too casual. A little too Noah trying to sound like he’s not staging a hostage negotiation.

“Hey, dude? Uhhh—”

Liam paused.

The faucet kept running.

He wiped his hands slowly and walked toward the living room.

Claire was standing just inside the door, arms folded across her chest, hair slightly windblown like she’d been pacing outside before ringing. Her expression was sharp, unreadable—but her eyes flicked straight to Noah, narrowed.

Noah was standing off to the side, posture loose but face tight—jaw clenched, lips pressed together.

Liam blinked.

“Claire…?”

Her eyes shifted back to him, and he remembered—she’d been texting for days. He just… hadn’t answered. Not once.

“Hey. Liam.” She said, voice neutral. “Can we talk?”

Liam nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Uh… yeah, sure.”

He glanced over at Noah, who was still by the door, unmoving.

“Can you… go upstairs for a sec?”

Noah didn’t argue. Just muttered, “Whatever,” and headed toward the staircase.

Claire waited until Noah’s footsteps were gone.

They walked to the kitchen in silence.

Claire leaned against the counter, arms crossed again. Not defensive. Just… unsure. Like she wasn’t totally sure she should be there at all.

Liam hovered near the sink, wiping his hands with a towel he didn’t need. Anything to keep them moving.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then Claire broke the silence, voice soft.

“I didn’t know you two were talking again.”

Liam nodded once, swallowed.

“Yeah. We… yeah.”

Another pause. She looked around like the kitchen might explain something.

“I was surprised. That’s all.”

He nodded again. It felt mechanical.

Paused.

“I should’ve replied to you. I’m sorry…”

Claire smiled faintly.

“I figured you were processing.”

Liam blinked hard.

“I wasn’t. I mean—I was. But not in a… useful way. I kinda… spiraled.”

She nodded, like she already knew.

“It wasn’t my place, maybe. To say what I said.”

“No,” Liam said quickly. “No, it was.”

He looked at her now, really looked at her. She looked concerned. Still kind. Still Claire.

“I just… It was a lot. That’s all. And…”

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking toward the stairs, sheepish.

“You were kind of right.”

He gestured vaguely upward, a loose little wave in Noah’s direction.

Claire’s eyes followed the motion, and her mouth twitched—half surprised, half amused. But what made her actually smile, faint and real, was the way Liam was smiling too. Just a little. Not even realizing he was.

“How are you dealing with… everything?” she asked, voice delicate, like she didn’t want to jinx whatever fragile honesty he’d built up.

Liam hesitated. His fingers tapped lightly on the counter.

“I’ve never been more confused in my life.”

Then he laughed—awkward.

“I don’t know if it’s…”

The word caught in his throat.

“…what you said it was. That day.”

He winced, like saying it hurt a little.

Claire nodded slowly, saying nothing.

“But I… I missed him. I like him, I guess. So I’m just sort of letting it be.”

He looked down, thumb brushing the edge of the counter.

Claire hesitated, then asked softly:

“And what about him?”

Liam answered too quickly.

“I think he’s more confused than I am. If that’s even possible.”

Then shrugged, eyes still down.

“He’s not, you know… good with words. But I think he missed me too…”

Claire just nodded, quiet. Knowing.

“Good.” she said softly. “Yeah. Let it be. Let yourselves feel what’s right, you know?”

Liam met her eyes.

Paused.

“Thanks,” he said, genuinely. “You’ve been… amazing. Since—”

He stopped, lips twitching at the irony.

“Since we met.”

Claire grinned, teasing.

“You’re welcome.”

She shifted to grab her bag off the stool, but then paused, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Oh—wait. Is that…?”

She leaned in a little and squinted toward the big purple mark on his neck.

Liam’s eyes widened.

“What—no,” he blurted, slapping a hand over the spot and turning crimson. “I fell.”

Claire blinked once, deadpan.

“…on Noah’s mouth?”

Liam choked on a laugh, covering it with a groan.

Claire just grinned, satisfied.

Liam ran a hand through his hair, still flushed, still smiling.

“You want coffee or something?”

Claire shook her head.

“No. I just wanted to check in.”

She stepped toward the hallway but paused before leaving, hand resting lightly on the doorway.

“Just… make sure he treats you well.”

Her tone was gentle, but the edge was there.

Liam nodded once.

“I will.”

Claire gave him one last look, then smiled.

“See you around!”

“Yeah!”

He closed the door softly behind her. Let the quiet settle. Then stood there for a second, palm still on the wood.

Liam had just stepped away from the door when Noah spoke behind him, leaning against the wall like he’d been there the whole time.

“She hates me.”

Liam turned, dry.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

Noah shrugged, unapologetic.

“You told me to go upstairs. You didn’t say don’t listen.”

Liam rolled his eyes, lips twitching.

“Huh. I wonder why she doesn’t like you.”

“Her loss,” Noah said, like it was obvious. “Maybe she’s jealous.”

Liam scoffed. “Jealous? Of you?”

Noah tilted his head, deadpan.

“Of you, idiot. You’re the one getting dicked down.”

Liam blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

“Ughh.”

Noah pushed off the wall and moved to the couch, but his tone shifted.

“You think she’s gonna say something?”

“No.” Liam blinked, caught off guard by the edge in Noah’s voice. “No. Claire wouldn’t.”

“She’s friends with Ashley.”

“Still…”

That made Noah pause. He leaned back but didn’t settle, jaw tight. “Right… but like, what if she thinks she’s helping you?”

Liam frowned. “Noah, I don’t—”

“Bro,” Noah said, dragging a hand over his face. “I’m just saying, sometimes people say shit without thinking. Especially when they think they’re doing the right thing.”

Noah stared at him for a beat, then exhaled slow.

He flopped onto the couch, arms folded tight across his chest. “I can’t have her running her mouth about this. It’s fucked up enough as it is.”

Liam paused.

Gave a small nod, jaw tightening. “I get it. I’ll talk to her.”

Noah glanced over, quiet for a second.

“So what else did I miss?”

Liam walked back into the room, glass of water in hand, and stood just beside the couch where Noah sat slouched, arms spread across the back.

Noah looked up at him, eyes tracking him for a second longer than casual.

“Start with Dylan.”

Liam froze mid-sip.

Eyes dropping.

“He—he was working out with me,” Liam said, eyes flicking away. “He was just… there. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask questions. He was easy to be around.”

Noah’s smile thinned, not quite a smirk. More like something pulled tight over something else.

“Yeah. I saw that.”

Liam blinked.

“You did?”

Noah didn’t answer that. Just lifted his chin slightly, eyes unreadable.

“So… how was it?”

Liam squinted. “Was what?”

Noah tilted his head, voice colder now. Blunt. Measured.

“When he fucked you.”

Liam’s mouth opened, then shut. Silence.

“C’mon.” Noah’s voice was easy, but there was something bitter curled under it. “You didn’t just accidentally end up under that guy. I told you last night—I can tell. It’s been weeks, and your hole still didn’t feel like the way it should, like it’s mine. Took someone big to do that, huh?

Liam flinched like the words hit him in the chest.

“It—it wasn’t like that,” he said quickly, voice uneven. “He was nice. And I was… overwhelmed.”

He took a shaky breath.

“And it happened. That’s it. It just—happened.”

He didn’t say the rest.

Didn’t say that Dylan had smelled like him. Liam kept that part buried. Too ashamed to give it shape. Too scared Noah might hear it wrong

Noah didn’t respond. Didn’t nod. Didn’t move. The silence sat between them for a few long seconds, until it turned to something sharp.

“I told you he was a slut.”

Liam looked down, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You did.”

Noah leaned back, arms crossed lazily—but his eyes were sharp.

“You also said something about Connor. And a date?”

Liam groaned under his breath, already bracing.

“It wasn’t a date. I just…” He trailed off, then rubbed at his jaw. “He wouldn’t stop trying to do sex stuff. With me. At me. It was getting fucked up.”

Noah’s brows lifted. “After everything I told him?”

Liam looked at him, a little pointed.

“You also unfollowed me. I think that kind of gave him permission.”

Noah blinked.

“Oh.”

He pulled out his phone, thumb tapping rapidly. Then he held the screen up toward Liam.

Back to following.

“There. Show him that next time.”

He didn’t smile.

“And tell him I’ll kill him for real.”

He looked at Noah’s profile—how calm he looked saying that, how serious—and shook his head once.

“You’re insane.”

He went on.

“…Anyway so I thought—maybe if I helped him get laid, he’d stop… whatever the hell he was doing. So I took him to a bar. Told him I’d help him flirt.”

Noah blinked.

Then laughed, loud and sudden.

“You? You tried to teach someone how to pull?”

Liam frowned, defensive.

“Fuck off. I just figured I’d give him something to chase that wasn’t me.”

“You gave him a mission,” Noah muttered, shaking his head. “Jesus.”

“He actually talked to a girl,” Liam said, holding up a hand. “I talked to one too. Didn’t go anywhere. I came back, and he was already hovering again. Wanting to do shit with me.”

Noah’s laughter slowed. He raised an eyebrow, voice lower now.

“Well. Did he?”

Liam’s throat worked. He looked away.

Noah sat with it for a beat.

Then:

“Mmm. I’m sensing a pattern.”

That did it.

Liam dropped onto the couch like it all finally got him.

“I’m not like that!” he snapped, eyes wide, hands flaring out. “I’m not! I was fucked up, okay? You were gone and I didn’t know what to do. Everything was just… fucked. I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong. I didn’t even know WHY I wanted to see you again and and—”

His voice cracked, breath shaky.

The silence that followed was dense—but not angry. Just heavy.

Then Noah moved.

He slid onto the couch beside him, close enough for Liam to feel the warmth off his skin. Then, without a word, he bumped his leg into Liam’s. Let it rest there.

“Yeah.” he said, quietly.

Liam glanced at him, almost startled by how normal it felt.

How grounding.

Liam stared at the floor. At their legs, pressed side by side.

Then, softly:

“So… what were you even doing when you disappeared?”

Noah shifted.

“Not much,” he said. Voice flat. Almost bored.

“Working out. Normal stuff.”

A pause.

Then: “Oh, yeah. Ashley thinks we’re dating now.”

Liam blinked.

“…What?”

He turned to look at him, too fast, already frowning.

Noah was completely unfazed.

“She’s convinced,” he said, like he was talking about the weather.

Liam blinked hard. His mouth parted like he was about to speak—but nothing came out. His brow creased, somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

“Why is she convinced?”

Like he genuinely couldn’t figure out what kind of behavioral collapse would lead someone to that conclusion.

“I asked her. She said yes.”

Noah reached for something on the table—a protein bar, maybe, half-wrapped—and took a bite.

Liam stared at him.

Speechless.

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