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.
Brainless
It had been two weeks.
Well… Seventeen days.
Liam knew the number exactly because he hadn’t been able to cum once since that night. Not once. He’d tried. God, he’d tried. Every few days, the pressure built so bad in his balls it made his head foggy. His body would ache with it. His cock would pulse so hard it felt like it had its own heartbeat. He’d grab some lube, queue up a video, even make it a few strokes in—
—but then it would hit.
The flash of Noah’s voice. His cock hanging next to his face. The weight of Noah’s cock in his palm. The mess. The smell of Noah’s feet and cum. The way he’d said stuff while Liam was jerking off.
Every time Liam tried to stroke one off, that memory would creep back in—Not even creep—it fucking burst in, loud and vivid, like a door kicked open in his brain. And it hit low. Deep. Like shame curling in his gut.
And worst of all?
It still turned him on.
He’d stop though. Every time. Swearing at himself. Wiping his hand like it had acid on it. Then he’d sit there on his bed, rock hard, horny as fuck and out of breath, asking what the fuck was wrong with him. And why he couldn’t just be normal about this. Why he couldn’t just jerk off and move the fuck on.
When he wasn’t trying to jerk off and failing, Liam threw himself back into the routine. Gym. Work. Sleep. Rinse. Repeat. And Noah? Noah didn’t even mention that night, again. If anything, he was friendlier than ever. Kept texting like normal. Kept acting like everything was chill. Liam tried playing along. Answered the texts. Laughed at the memes. Shared new PRs. But he wanted to keep his distance, maybe for a long time.
Liam didn’t go over anymore. Always had an excuse. Tired. Busy. Migraine. You name it.
One Wednesday afternoon, Liam was in the middle of another long, gray-feeling day. Work had been shit—his manager micromanaging, his inbox stacked with useless memos, a client blowing up over a delay that wasn’t even his fault. He’d skipped lunch without realizing it. Just powered through with two espressos and a protein bar that tasted like chalk.
By the time he clocked out, his brain felt like a half-dead laptop. He didn’t go home. He drove straight to the gym, because anything was better than sitting alone in that apartment.
He was in the middle of his third set of incline bench, hoodie damp with sweat, earbuds blasting something aggressive, when a voice broke through the music.
“Yo, Romeo.”
He looked up. Noah was heading over, towel around his neck, that stupid grin in place. But this time, he wasn’t alone.
A tall brunette walked beside him—tight tank, matching leggings, a smirk that matched Noah’s. Ashley, Liam figured. And next to her, a blonde with a soft smile and bright green eyes, in joggers and a cropped hoodie.
Noah clapped Liam on the shoulder. “This is Ashley,” he said, “and that’s Claire. Her best friend.”
Ashley gave a short wave. Claire smiled, warm and a little shy.
Liam nodded, trying not to overthink it. “Hey.”
“So,” Noah said, already grinning wider. “Ashley’s been bugging the shit outta me to go to my parents’ lake house for weeks.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “Finally gave in. Figured it’s the perfect time. Weather’s good. House is empty. We’re going.”
Ashley nudged him. “It’s called having a social life, Noah.”
Noah ignored her. “Point is—me, Ashley, Claire. And now you. Four people. Chill weekend. Drinks, swimming, maybe even some jet skiing if I feel generous.”
Liam blinked. “Wait, like… this weekend?”
“Yeah.”
Noah stepped closer, this time leaning in just enough for only Liam to hear. His voice dropped low and warm:
“And I’m not asking. You’re coming. You need this, dude. Ashley’s been up my ass about it for weeks. I finally said yes—now you say yes too.”
He pulled back with a smirk, loud enough for the others to hear again. “Besides, I’m literally setting you up with Claire. She’s hot, you’re not bad. She’s single, you’re single—seems obvious.”
Claire looked away, smiling again but not saying anything. Ashley was already texting something on her phone.
Liam glanced at them. Then back at Noah. For a second, it felt like breathing after holding it in for too long. Like maybe this was his chance to shake it all off. Be normal again. And fuck, Claire was pretty hot. Perfect.
“Yeah,” Liam said, nodding. “I’m in.”
Noah’s grin exploded. “Fuck yes. Pack light. We leave Friday.”
Friday morning came fast. At 6 a.m., Liam stepped out of the Uber, bag slung over his shoulder. The sky was still a dull blue, and Noah’s driveway looked sleepy—but his car was already parked out front, doors open, trunk loaded.
Liam was actually in a good mood. He’d gone out for drinks with a coworker the night before—one of the girls from the design team—and it had been easy. Normal. Flirty. He’d felt like himself again for the first time in weeks.
Noah came out of the garage, stretching and sipping from a protein shaker. “Dude. On time. I’m impressed.”
Liam chuckled. “Where’re the girls?”
Noah scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting. “So… about that.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Don’t say it.”
“We got into a fight,” Noah said. “Ashley and me. Like, a stupid one. She said she’s not coming. Claire either.”
“You’re joking.” Incredulity stamped on his face.
“I was gonna tell you,” Noah rushed. “But I figured if I did, you might bail. And I really need a weekend off, man. Seriously. We’ll call them from there. I’ll talk to Ashley. Maybe they’ll change their mind.”
“Well… what happened?” Liam asked, frowning.
Noah blew out a breath. “She’s just been bitching nonstop. Like, she wanted to control every detail. What food we bring, what time we leave, what music gets played in the car. I snapped. Told her to stop acting like it was a fucking wedding. She flipped.”
He shrugged, grabbing Liam’s bag and tossing it into the trunk. “Whatever. She’ll get over it. Just needed space.”
Liam stood there a second, heart sinking.
But then Noah clapped him on the shoulder. “C’mon. It’s still the lake house. Just us. Like old times. No stress. No weird vibes. Just chill.”
Liam took a breath. He looked at the car. Then at Noah.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Alright. Let’s go.” And then as if remembering something. “But we’ll call them from there?”
“Dude, of course.” Noah nodded.
The drive out was surprisingly chill. They grabbed gas station coffee, tossed their bags in the backseat, and cranked up the windows. For the first half hour, they mostly joked around—arguing over playlists and debating energy drink flavors. Noah even got Liam talking about work, which took some effort.
By the time they hit the winding roads out toward the countryside, Liam was feeling lighter. Like maybe this trip really could reset things.
When they finally pulled up to the lake house, Liam blinked hard.
It was gorgeous. Big, open deck out back. Cedar siding. Pine trees swaying all around. A view of the lake stretching wide beyond the grass.
“Dude,” he muttered. “This is insane.”
Noah waved a hand. “Chill. I’m not loaded, alright? My grandpa won it in a poker game like 100 years ago or some shit.”
Liam laughed. “No way.”
“I’m serious. The deed’s like a damn museum artifact.”
“Alright,” Noah said, tossing him the keys. “Be a sweetheart and bring the stuff inside? I’m gonna try calling Ashley again, see if she’s still being dramatic.”
Liam caught the keys. “Sure. Want me to start unpacking too, or just toss the bags inside? Take your time with her.”
Noah waved him off, already pulling out his phone. “Just dump ‘em in the living room. We’ll sort it later.”
Liam headed toward the house, arms full.
Behind him, Noah paced toward the far end of the deck, phone to his ear. His expression tightened—serious, frustrated, like he was really trying. Like he cared.
But the phone screen was dark.
Still locked.
Noah didn’t even glance at it.
He raised it to his ear anyway, sighing loud enough for Liam to hear as the front door swung open.
The late morning sun was already blazing when Noah and Liam stepped out onto the back deck of the lake house, drinks in hand. The sky was cloudless, the water calm and glittering like glass. By the time they got changed and down to the dock, it was nearly noon. Noah had two jet skis prepped and ready, his grin cocky as hell.
“You ever actually ridden one of these, or am I about to leave your ass in my wake?” he asked, tossing Liam a life vest.
“I’m not totally useless,” Liam shot back, catching the vest. “We’ll see who’s chasing who.”
Laughter followed them as they revved the engines and tore across the lake. The air was sharp, cool on their skin. For a while, everything else fell away—no weird tension, no recent memory overload. Just noise, wind, and adrenaline.
Around 1:30, they docked again, soaked and breathless. Noah suggested grabbing some food, and Liam didn’t argue. They threw together a quick lunch—sandwiches, chips, drinks—and sat out on the deck again while their suits dried on the railing.
The sun had dipped a little by the time Noah stood, stretching with a low groan. “Alright. Hike?”
Liam blinked. “You serious?”
“C’mon.There’s this sick ridge down the hill over there. It’s got a sick view.”
They set out about an hour later, the trail winding through the trees behind the cabin. The climb wasn’t brutal, but it had its moments. Liam felt the burn in his thighs; Noah pretended it wasn’t affecting him at all, of course. Typical.
It was close to 5:00 p.m. by the time they made it back down. The sun had shifted lower in the sky, casting golden light over everything. Liam dropped onto the porch steps with a grunt.
“Fuck. My legs.”
Noah chuckled, walking slower now. He stepped up beside Liam and rolled his ankle with a grimace.
“You good?” Liam asked, eyeing him.
Noah shrugged. “Yeah. Just tweaked my foot a little trying to climb that big-ass rock. Dumb move.”
Liam nodded, wiping sweat off his forehead. “How’s your foot now?”
“Not gonna lie, still hurts,” Noah admitted. “Kinda bad, maybe I just need to stop walking around.”
The lake shimmered behind them, catching the last few rays of daylight.
Liam had to admit the day had been really fun.
They ended up sprawled on the living room floor, the quiet settling again around them, warm and heavy over the thick rug beneath them. It was the early part of the evening now—maybe 7ish—and everything outside the windows was blue shadows and cricket static
Noah was the first to break the silence. He turned his phone face-down and sighed. “You know what sucks? I actually brought a fun little pill to use with the girls. And now they’re not here.”
Liam didn’t answer, just scrolled.
“So like… why not?” Noah smiled. “They’re not here. But we are. Might as well not waste it, right?”
Liam blinked, looked over. “Yeah?”
Noah grinned. “C’mon. I need a fucking break, remember? What else are we doing for the night? Staring at TikToks till we fall asleep?”
The logic was flimsy, but the grin worked. Liam gave in.
Before popping it in his mouth, he asked, “What is this, anyway?”
“Fun stuff. Don’t worry about it, you pussy.” Noah laughed, warm and easy as he pretended to swallow.
They went back to their phones and talking. Half an hour later, they were both lying back on the rug, waiting. Phones mostly forgotten.
Liam wasn’t sure when it started, exactly. Just that his heartbeat felt louder. His skin felt more… there. Like the weight of the blanket on his lap was a whole presence.
The lights looked warmer. The rug felt soft in a way that made him want to dig his fingers into it.
He didn’t feel high. He thought. Just… unlocked. Like someone had lifted a lid off his brain and everything was spilling around a little more than usual.
He turned his head lazily toward Noah. “Feel anything yet?”
Noah nodded. “Mm-hm. Just hitting.” He grinned. “Feels good.”
They lay in silence for a while. Liam exploring all the new sensations to him.
Then, somewhere between a shift in position and a low groan from Noah’s throat, Liam noticed it again—Noah rolling his foot gently, pressing it against the floor.
“You alright?” Liam asked, voice loose.
“My fucking foot, man.” Noah exhaled slow. “Still hurts. I think I actually did something to it earlier. It’s been killing me ever since the hike.”
Liam nodded slowly, hazy. “That sucks.”
There was a pause.
Then Noah looked over. “Hey. You mind massaging it?”
Liam blinked. “What? No, dude. What the hell.” He laughed, trying to brush it off. “You want me to waste the pill grabbing your foot?”
Noah rolled onto his side, fixing him with a look. “C’mon. I hiked for two hours. You made fun of me on the jet ski. I literally fed you lunch.”
Liam raised a brow. “What does lunch have to do with anything?”
“I’m in pain, bro.” Noah groaned again, louder this time, reaching down and rubbing the side of his foot halfheartedly. “I’d do it for you.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
“I totally would.” He nodded solemnly. “You tweak your foot and I’m the first one rubbing you down.”
Liam groaned, eyes closing. “Jesus, dude. Fine. 10 minutes and that’s it.”
“Atta boy.” Noah grinned, tossing one leg into Liam’s lap without warning. “I owe you one.”
He sat up, grabbed his ankle, and yanked off the sneaker with a grunt. The second it came off, the air changed. Liam barely had time to brace before the heavy, ripe stench hit him—thick and sour, that unmistakable stink of foot sweat baked in all afternoon.
Noah hadn’t worn socks. He’d hiked in bare feet inside his sneakers. The skin was flushed, damp, shiny in the low light. Liam recoiled instinctively.
“Dude—” he half-laughed, half-gagged. “You didn’t wear socks? That shit reeks. Wash it off first, I’m begging you.”
Noah flopped backward again with a groan. “Bro, I can barely stand. I’m serious. I tweaked it climbing that stupid rock—remember?”
Liam hesitated, nose wrinkling.
“Please,” Noah added, glancing over. Not grinning. Not smug. Just this tired, pain-strained look. A first. “I’m asking, dude.”
It landed different. Not playful. Just… authentic.
Liam swallowed, jaw tight. Then nodded once.
Noah lifted his foot into Liam’s lap.
He reached out slowly, fingers brushing the arch. The skin was hot. Damp. And still reeking. The muscles there tight.
Noah exhaled. Long. Grateful. He leaned back again, eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck. That’s already better.”
Liam’s hands moved awkwardly at first, fingertips gliding over slick, sweat-slicked skin. But then the rhythm settled. He pressed into the sole with his thumbs, dragged down toward the heel, circled the pads with slow, firm pressure.
Noah groaned low. “Yeah… just like that.”
Liam swallowed. Tried to ignore the scent. Tried to pretend this wasn’t weird. But the air felt warmer. Heavy.
His own cock pulsed once in his shorts.
No. No, no. Not this again.
He shifted, adjusted, tried to angle his body away. But it already had happened. He could feel it, hard as a rock in his sweat shorts. A thick, growing feeling.
He waited a while and discreetly looked at Noah. Thank fuck he hadn’t noticed. Or maybe he had, and wasn’t saying anything. Either way it’ll go down and—
“Dude.” Noah started.
Pease no, don’t say it, please, please. Liam looked up.
Noah’s grin was lazy. Too knowing.
“You’re hard…”
Liam froze for a few seconds. His hands still on his buddy’s feet.
And then with a dozen emotions bubbling up. “It’s nothing, dude,” he blurted. “Maybe because every time you take your sweaty feet out, we end up jerking off, is all.”
The words spilled out without thinking. And the second they did—regret.
Noah raised an eyebrow. Then laughed softly. “So… you’re saying the smell of my feet turns you on?”
Liam’s face flushed deep red. “I didn’t—That’s not what I—”
“Dude…” Noah shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. “That’s fucking hilarious. You’re actually getting turned on by my sweat. That’s next level.”
Liam looked away, mortified. “Forget it. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Noah didn’t press immediately. Just leaned back, casually wiggling his toes. The air still thick with the scent. Still radiating heat.
Then, voice calm, measured—“You ever think maybe your body just likes being around mine?”
Liam stared at the floor. “Shut up.” And with that he took his hands off of Noah’s foot.
Noah smirked. “Damn, you’re easy. I’m just messing with you. Relax”
He shifted a bit, groaning softly like the ache flared again. “C’mon, dude. I’m in pain here. I won’t say another word, alright? Silent treatment. Just—please. I swear I’ll shut up.”
Liam hesitated. His jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the floor for a second too long.
Then—with a sigh that wasn’t really annoyed—he scooted back in, reached out, and picked up Noah’s foot again.
His fingers dug in, firmer this time.
Noah exhaled, like relief hit all at once. “Fuck… You’re the best, little buddy.”
Noah moved, like he was trying to get comfortable—his foot dragged up along Liam’s thigh, slow and casual, as if he hadn’t noticed the angle. The arch pressed against the inside of Liam’s leg, warm and damp from the sweat, then slid just a little higher.
Too high.
The ball of his foot nudged right up against Liam’s crotch—right against the throb.
Liam jolted slightly, breath catching in his throat.
But Noah didn’t flinch. Didn’t look down. Didn’t move his foot away. Just sighed again, like he was perfectly relaxed, totally unaware and eyes closed.
It had to be the pill. That’s what Liam told himself.
That hot, electric pulse that hit when the foot brushed him like that? The way his cock throbbed so hard he thought it might tear through his shorts? The warmth that rushed straight through him?
That was just the drug.
Not the smell. Not the weight of Noah’s foot still hovering close. Not the weeks of aching and edging frustration boiling under his skin.
It was just the pill. Had to be.
Twenty days. Every time he tried to get off, that fucking memory would come screaming back—Noah, grinning, half-naked, smeared all over him. That voice. That smell.
And now?
Now that fucking smell was right there again. Thick in the air. Sharp and humid and impossible to ignore. His knuckles brushed the soft pad beneath Noah’s toes and he swore his cock jumped again.
Noah sighed, low and content. “God, dude. Your hands are insane. Ashley’s always whining about foot rubs, but she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing. This?” He tilted his head back. “This is fucking healing.”
He shifted again—like he was stretching out, maybe trying to adjust his position against the rug—but his foot dragged up the inside of Liam’s thigh once more. Slower this time. Harder. And then, like it didn’t mean anything at all, the arch rolled right over Liam’s bulge. Just a second. Just enough to apply pressure.
Liam tensed. Every muscle locked. But Noah didn’t react again. Didn’t glance down. Didn’t smirk. Just stayed leaned back, eyes half-lidded, like he hadn’t even noticed.
Liam didn’t address it either. He was too focused on trying to not touch Noah’s foot with his dick.
The tension was rising now. Palpable. That sick, sticky heat curling in his gut, melting any part of his mind that still wanted to pretend this was normal.
Because it wasn’t.
Not the sweat. Not the heat. Not the way his fingers kept slipping. Not the way his cock was leaking into his briefs now, making everything feel wet and slick and disgusting and unbearably good.
Still, he didn’t stop.
He swallowed hard.
And kept going.
Noah’s voice broke through the tension a moment later—lazy, low, like it was just an offhand observation. “You good down there, little buddy?”
Liam flinched. His hands paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. “I’m fine,” he muttered, voice thin. Subject over.
Noah didn’t push. Just let a beat pass.
Then he shifted again. Sat up slightly. And his eyes dropped—finally—to Liam’s lap.
“Jesus, dude,” he chuckled. “You’re soaked through with pre. That’s not fine.”
Liam’s head jerked down, like he hadn’t even fully realized it until now. His voice cracked. “Fuck—yeah, I—sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just—”
Noah raised an eyebrow, smirking. “It’s just… my sweaty feet again, huh?”
Liam groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Can you not?”
Noah sighed, but it wasn’t annoyed. More like… resigned. “Fuck it,” he muttered, and with one smooth motion, he reached for the waistband of his shorts.
Liam watched, petrified.
Noah tugged them down just enough to free himself. His cock flopped out, already half-hard, flushed, the head slick with fresh pre.
“I’m not just gonna sit here throbbing,” Noah said, casual as hell, as he started stroking slowly. “And you sitting there rock hard, leaking, while rubbing my feet is way weirder, dude. Handle your shit so we can move on.”
He looked over at Liam with an annoyed look on his face. “Seriously. You’re in need, man. It’s a medical diagnosis at this point.”
Noah was already stroking himself with lazy rhythm, his shorts pooled low around his thighs. His 9 inch cock looked like it always did when he jerked off —wet, swollen, glistening at the tip. Meanwhile, Liam sat fully clothed, back bowed, eyes wide and hazy. The contrast made the moment feel even more unreal.
He swallowed thickly. His own cock strained against his briefs, soaked with pre, pulsing with a need that felt almost medicinal. Like if he didn’t get off soon, he might actually get sick. He could feel every square inch of his skin somehow.
Noah caught the look and tilted his head.
“Dude. Don’t be weird. Just do it already.”
Liam hesitated—but his body didn’t. His hand drifted down. Opened his fly. Slipped inside his briefs with a groan. The contact made his whole body noticeably jolt.
“There we go,” Noah said, approving. “Jesus, your pupils look fucking crazy? You’re fuckin’ feral right now, aren’t you?”
Liam didn’t reply. He just leaned back on one hand, jerking himself with the other, his legs spread wide and face twisted like he was trying to hide how good it felt.
“God…” He let out slowly.
The air was thick. Their breaths were uneven. The only sounds were slick strokes and the occasional sounds out of Liam’s throat.
Then Noah’s gaze flicked up, locking onto Liam’s chest. He squinted.
“Wait… is that your shirt sticking to your nipple?”
Liam froze mid-stroke.
Noah leaned in, curious now.
“Are you hard there too?”
Before Liam could say a word, Noah approached, sat beside him, reached out and pressed his thumb against the faint outline beneath the damp fabric.
“Holy shit,” Noah muttered. “It is hard.”
He rubbed in a slow circle. Pressed down. Watched.
Liam let out a noise—somewhere between a gasp and a moan—and his hips jerked involuntarily.
They both froze. Noah smiled. Liam panicked.
“…Did that feel good?”
Liam’s face flushed instantly. “No—I don’t know, man, I—”
But Noah was already grinning. His fingers pinched the spot again, harder this time.
Liam groaned. His head dropped back.
“Duuuuuuude,” Noah said, voice low, amazed. “You’re fucking gooning out from this shit?”
He grabbed the hem of Liam’s shirt. “Get this off. Seriously. We’re testing this properly.”
Liam didn’t fight it. The shirt was yanked off, arms up like he was in a trance. His nipples were visibly hard now—flushed and sensitive.
Noah was sitting right beside him now, thighs spread, his own shorts shoved down just past his hips. His cock was out too—thicker, already shiny from his own stroking. It bobbed slightly as he leaned closer, the hand still loosely wrapped around the base.
Noah reached up with his free hand and rolled one of Liam’s nipples between his fingers.
Liam whimpered.
“You’re worse than any girl I’ve fucked,” Noah laughed, fingers still teasing circles around the swollen nub. “They never came close to this.”
Liam’s whole body was trembling now, one hand still loosely wrapped around his wet cock, but he couldn’t even stroke anymore. His grip had gone limp.
“Dude.” Noah leaned closer, voice lower, mock-serious. “You’re sitting here with your tits hard and your dick leaking just ‘cause I touched you there? That’s insane.”
He moved to the other nipple, brushing over it lightly, like he was just testing it.
“This one too?”
He flicked it once.
pLiam let out a strangled sound.
Noah’s grin widened. “No way. They’re both wired? That’s so fucking cute, little buddy.”
He pinched them both at once—thumb and forefinger on each—and twisted, not too hard, but enough to make Liam cry out.
Liam’s hips jerked violently. His eyes fluttered. His mouth dropped open, slack and wet.
“Oh my God, you’re actually gooning out. You’re full-on brainless from getting your nipples played with.” He laughed. “You’re not even listening to me, aren’t you?”
Liam didn’t react to the question. He kept jolting his body like it was going through an electric pulse. Eyes empty.
Noah kept going. Alternating pinches, then twisting them lightly, in sync.
“Look at you. Fucking drooling. Is this what gets you off now?” Noah kept talking.
Liam tried to shake his head, but his body was twitching. His thighs flexed. His hand was moving again on his cock but out of rhythm, messy, like he wasn’t controlling it anymore.
Noah let out a slow exhale, like he was watching something fascinating unravel.
Then he stood.
Liam barely noticed. He was still twitching under Noah’s hands, his cock still in a loose, shaky grip, hips jerking every few seconds like a glitching signal.
Noah paused for a second, stepped over him and grabbed the nearest chair—one of those cheap, wood-framed ones with the padded seat. He could see Liam slowly regaining consciousness. He dragged it a little closer. Then sat down, casually, right in front of Liam.
On the very edge of the chair. Legs spread.
His cock—wet, flushed, foreskin retreating—hung just a few inches from Liam’s open mouth. Close enough that Liam could feel the heat radiating off of it. His sweaty balls hanging low.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned back slightly, stared at Liam with a smirk, and reached forward with both hands to roll Liam’s nipples again.
Liam whimpered.
“There he is,” Noah murmured. “My little wirehead. You still in there, little buddy? Or did I fry your brain already?”
Liam couldn’t respond. His eyes were glassy. His mouth parted wider as a shaky breath left him, fogging the air between them. His cock gave another weak throb, spent but aching.
Noah twisted again. Just enough to watch Liam’s shoulders jerk.
“You’re so fucking gone right now. Just a mess. A mess that likes being played with like a girl.”
Liam’s hand twitched. Then again. And then—slowly, shakily—he reached up.
Wrapped his fingers around Noah’s cock.
His grip was weak. Hesitant. But needy. Like his body was on autopilot, responding before his mind could catch up. But the second he touched it, Noah let out a low, satisfied breath.
Noah looked down at him, eyebrows raised—mock impressed.
“Aww.” His voice dripped with mockery. “There it is.”
He let out a small laugh. “Didn’t even need to be told, huh? You just couldn’t help yourself.”
Liam’s face flushed deeper, but he didn’t stop.
“You that far gone, little buddy?” He chuckled again, leaning forward slightly, fingers still rolling Liam’s nipples faster now.
Liam was still jerking himself, but it was getting sloppier now. His rhythm broken. Eyes glassy. Mouth open. A string of spit had started to trail from the corner of his lips, sliding down his chin like he didn’t even feel it.
“Mmm… feels—ahhn… mhh—so—mmm…” Liam let out.
The noises dripped out of him, wet and stupid. Liam’s lips were parted, loose, his tongue barely working as he mumbled into open air. His chest was flushed, rising in shallow jerks, his nipples still stiff from Noah’s touch.
Noah brought his fingers to his mouth, spit over the tips, then dragged them back down to Liam’s chest. His eyes stayed narrowed, mouth tilted in that low, mocking expression.
Then he leaned back in—right on Liam’s nipples.
Liam’s eyes crossed. Helpless.
“Aww, little buddy, are you going retarded? Do you hear yourself right now?”
Liam’s hands were still stroking both of them now faster and harder—but twitchy, uneven motions like he wasn’t even conscious of doing it. Saliva kept slipping from the corner of his mouth and sliding down his chin in a glistening line, catching on his throat.
He gave one more slow pinch to Liam’s nipples. “That’s you, dude. Those dumbass sounds? That’s you.”
Noah didn’t let up.
He twisted both nipples again, dragging out another sharp moan from Liam’s mouth. Liam’s whole body jolted. His thighs tensed. His eyes unfocused.
“That’s it,” Noah said, voice low, calm. “Fucking give in, dude. You’ve already embarrassed yourself. Might as well make it count.”
Liam whimpered again—high-pitched, almost feminine, like his body was terrified the feeling might stop for even a second. His hand on Noah’s cock—and his own—started jerking faster, sloppy and desperate.
“You wanna make me cum, huh?” Noah leaned back slightly on the chair, not stopping playing with his nipples. “‘Course you do.”
He looked down, watching the way Liam’s silly mouth stayed open, tongue barely tucked in, drool stringing from his chin. His cock was angled right at his face now—one twitch away from painting him.
“You know where it’s pointed, right?” Noah said, mock-gentle. “Right at that dumb little face.”
Liam moaned again—no words. Just need and incoherence.
“Mouth’s open too. You’re not even blinking.” He stared at him again and added “I knew you were gonna like that pill. That’s awesome.”
Noah tilted his head like he was talking to a toddler. “I know you can’t hear me right now, little buddy, but if you want me to cum on your face—and maybe in that mouth—you just keep stroking, yeah?”
He smirked, rolled Liam’s nipples again.
“Just like that. You’re jerking me off so good.”
A beat.
“Keep it up. Keep that pretty mouth wide open. Let’s see how much of a mess you really wanna be.”
Noah’s breathing started hitching.
He shifted on the chair, cock twitching in Liam’s grip. His balls tightened. His thighs tensed.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re gonna make me cum all over your gooned little face.”
Liam kept stroking. Still trembling. Still drooling. Still cross-eyed and slack-jawed.
Noah groaned—low—and suddenly he was there.
He came with a grunt, his cock jerking in Liam’s hand.
The first hot spurt hit Liam across the cheek. The second—right on his lips.
The third pulsed straight onto his tongue. Noah groaned raw—his whole body clenching as the orgasm tore through him. Heat flooded his chest, his thighs, his gut. His glistening abs flexed hard as his cock gave that third twitch, and he watched—fuck, he watched—as his cum landed right on Liam’s tongue.
And Liam didn’t flinch. Didn’t close his mouth. Just sat there, staring up at him, needy, mouth open like it belonged to Noah now.
Noah exhaled hard, breathless, stunned—but proud. There was a weird, humming heat in his chest—like he’d just won something. Never stopping playing with his friend’s nipples.
And that was it.
Liam snapped as Noah’s fourth rope of warm cum hit the inside of this mouth.
His whole body jolted like he’d been shocked—spine arching, legs locking, a raw, animal, broken sound tearing from his throat. His hand clamped tighter around both their cocks, but his own was pulsing violently, and then—
He came.
Hard. Twenty days’ worth of hard.
A thick, thick jet of cum sprayed up over his stomach, hitting the fucking ceiling. The second spurt splattered across his own chin.
He groaned through it, loud and unfiltered, mouth still slack, tongue twitching, eyes fluttering like he was barely conscious. Drool and cum smeared across his lips, and he still didn’t close his mouth.
Noah was finishing too—cock still jerking in Liam’s grip, spilling the last few hot spurts in lazy pulses across his friend’s tongue and chin. His thighs twitched. His abs clenched. He let out a long, animal breath as the final wave hit, deep in his gut, and it felt fucking incredible.
He watched Liam’s face—cum-smeared, dazed, mouth still wide open—and felt that wicked little curl of pride settle low in his belly.
Yeah.
He did that.
Liam kept cumming so hard, the final messy spurt ended up splattering against Noah’s leg.
Noah jerked his leg back with a laugh, startled.
“Yooo—WHAT the fuck?”
He looked down at Liam, blinking. “Dude. You just—did you cum from that? From getting nutted on?”
Liam didn’t answer.
How could he?
His mouth was still open, gaped and shining, breaths dragging in slow and shallow like his lungs forgot how to work. His whole body trembled with the aftershocks—small, involuntary spasms pulsing through his thighs and abdomen. His hands had gone limp, one still loosely cupping his cock, the other smeared with Noah’s semen.
His chest rose and fell unevenly, skin flushed and glistening with sweat. There was cum on his lips. On his tongue. His chin. His chest. His stomach. The air around him was thick with it—sex and sweat and that raw, dizzy heat that made everything feel like it was happening in slow motion.
His eyes were barely open. Unfocused. Glazed with something between bliss and shellshock.
His brain? Gone. Melted. Somewhere far away.
His head throbbed, like the blood hadn’t figured out how to leave his cock yet.
He wasn’t thinking about what just happened. He wasn’t thinking at all.
He just lay there—ruined, twitching, mouth still parted—as if the only thing holding him together was confusion. Cum sliding slowly down his face and jaw.
Noah just stared.
“Jesus Christ, little buddy,” he muttered.
Liam didn’t respond. His cognitive faculties weren’t there yet.
“You are so fucked.”
He lay there, mouth ajar, lashes fluttering, the weight of it all settling in layers on him—sweat, spit, cum.
And then… he exhaled.
One long, shaky breath. Like his body had finally given up.
His fingers slipped from Noah’s cock.
His eyes closed.
And he didn’t move again.
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