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.
DATE
Liam didn’t move.
He lay there on the floor, face slack, limbs useless, the taste of sweat and cum still coating the back of his throat. His chest was sticky with spit and pre and cum, his thighs twitching slightly from aftershocks of his much needed orgasm. His own heartbeat had slowed, but everything inside him felt… fast.
He wasn’t even embarrassed—yet. Just ruined in a way that didn’t hurt. Like his body had lost something he hadn’t given permission to lose.
Eventually, after what felt like ten seconds or ten minutes, he stirred. A low groan leaked out of him as he pushed himself up, muscles soft and heavy like cooked noodles. He didn’t clean himself. Didn’t speak.
He sat. Or rather, he dropped—plopped—onto the couch beside Noah, who was already reclined back, one arm slung lazily over the cushion, phone in hand, scrolling through something dumb and bright.
Noah didn’t look up immediately.
When he did, he raised a single brow, gave Liam one quick, lazy once-over, and smirked.
“Bro, wanna shower first?” he said, still half-scrolling. “I think you need it more than me.”
And Liam faltered.
The words hit like both a slap and a joke. A comment on the mess. A dismissal of the act. A casual reminder that none of this, nothing about what just happened, should have mattered to him. And yet, it did.
Liam mumbled something—maybe a “yeah,” maybe nothing at all—and pushed himself off the couch. His legs moved in slow, graceless steps toward the bathroom. His brain wasn’t following—he just knew he had to leave the room.
“Towels are in the cabinet, dude!” Noah called after him, cheerful.
Liam didn’t answer. He turned the corner and slipped into the bathroom, quiet.
The light was already on. He walked past the mirror out of habit, but something—some leftover scrap of self—made him glance at it.
Regret punched him in the gut instantly.
He looked like he’d been used. Was used.
Thick spit clung to his chin, still dripping slightly, stretching in lazy threads down his neck. More was crusted in the corner of his lips, some of it glistening and still moving when he breathed. His eyes were red, rimmed with tears—half from the act, half from whatever was happening inside him. His chest was streaked with spit and cum, some of it still wet also, some of it already drying in pale patches against his skin. His cock and balls were shiny, slicked down with it all, and faintly trembling.
He could even smell Noah on him.
And then it hit him.
Not like a realization. Like a physical weight.
‘I sucked another guy’s dick.’
It doesn’t land gently. It crashes through his chest like a blaring siren, then splits into layers.
‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’
His hands were gripping the sink now, and he didn’t remember putting them there. The porcelain was cold. His jaw locked. His eyes refused to meet his reflection, like even his own face didn’t want to look back at him.
His brain kept spiraling.
‘But Noah doesn’t seem to care.’ ‘I don’t want to lose a friend just because… I’m too uptight??’ ‘We did other stuff. That was okay. Yeah?’ ‘But this? Wait…Why…How is this different?’
He didn’t have the answers. His head was screaming, but his face stayed blank. Lips parted slightly, eyes wide and unfocused. Quietly trying not to drown in a bathroom.
And then—he turned on the shower.
The water hit him hot. He stepped in slowly, letting it sting his back before leaning under it fully.
He stood there for a long time. Not moving.
‘I let him do that.’ ‘But only because I NEEDED to cum. It’s not like I was into it…’ ‘Fuck!’
There was no neat answer waiting for him.
Just steam, water, and the thought of Noah’s voice echoing from earlier like it lived in his bloodstream.
When he walked out, towel clinging low to his hips, he stopped in the hallway.
Noah was already out.
Showered. Hair towel-dried. Wearing fresh clothes. He smelled like body spray and a clean conscience. Fucking… how?
And in his hands—two pizza boxes, still hot. Steam curling up from the flaps.
“Yo. Hope you like pepperoni.”
Liam’s stomach growled so loudly it almost echoed.
The smell of the pizza hit him like a freight train. Grease, salt, pepperoni, bubbling cheese. Something safe and stupid again. The heat of the box. The hum of the room. Noah looking entirely unfazed.
Liam’s thoughts were still tumbling over themselves, messy and loud. But for just a second, he decided to let the pizza win.
“I’m starving,” he muttered, almost to himself.
He sat down, in inertia, and reached for a slice. Took a bite. The cheese singed the roof of his mouth, and he didn’t care. It was the most grounded thing he’d felt all day.
They chewed in silence, save for the occasional can popping open or the wet smack of crust between teeth.
Liam glanced sideways. Noah was focused on the TV, laughing at some dumb reel, and for a second it was like nothing had happened.
But it had. It fucking had, man.
Liam swallowed hard and wiped his fingers on a napkin. His voice came out quiet, dry.
“Hey… about earlier. I just…” His stomach turned. “I think it got kind of—”
Noah cut him off instantly, eyes still on the screen but voice warm.
“Dude,” he said, turning slightly, smiling. “I just wanted to say—thanks. Seriously.”
Liam blinked. “Huh?”
“For not freaking the fuck out,” Noah said with a grin. “It’s cool, man. I think you finally got outta your head.”
Liam’s heart thudded once, confused.
“That shit we do sometimes? It’s just fun,” Noah went on. “I told you—guys in college do that stuff all the time. Mutual relief, man. No one makes it weird.”
He took another bite and talked through the chew, still so damn relaxed.
“Nice to see we can be friends and you won’t make it a big thing or push drama into it, y’know?”
Liam stared at him. At the earnest smile. The casual kindness.
He’d been about to say the exact opposite. He was this close to unraveling in front of him. But Noah smiled like he was proud of him—for not crumbling.
And Liam? He couldn’t be the guy who ruined that. And, you know what? Maybe Noah really was right, freaking out all the time was so fucking exhausting. He could feel his own anxiety washing away with each word Noah said.
He nodded slowly, forced the corner of his mouth up, and grabbed another slice.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding stronger, and to himself mostly. “Yeah, yeah….”
He chewed. Swallowed. Finally starting to relax.
They stayed on the couch after eating, both sunk deep into the cushions like their bodies were still processing more than just pizza.
The TV was on—some football game Noah had flicked to without asking. He leaned forward every few seconds, elbows on his knees, barking things like “Come on, you idiot!” and “Throw it! He’s open!” with the reckless passion of someone who absolutely didn’t care how loud he was being.
Liam barely tracked the game.He let the rhythm of Noah’s voice fill the space. It felt safe, in that stupidly masculine, TV-glow, game-night kind of way. Like if he stayed very still, he could absorb whatever was in Noah that made all of this so easy.
Noah shouted again, standing this time, his shirt riding up as he gestured at the screen. Liam glanced at the strip of stomach exposed, the flex of his back, and then looked away fast.
His phone was on the armrest. He tapped it without thinking.
Instagram. Stories.
Claire. She’d posted a selfie—dim lighting, wine glass, soft laugh lines around her eyes. Girl’s night was written in cursive white font at the corner, and that was enough to make him miss her.
They weren’t, like, dating or anything. But they’d been talking a lot since that double date. And she… she seemed more into him than most people ever were.
He opened their chat.
Smiled.
[LIAM: thinking of you…]
He paused. Then added:
[LIAM: also… our date night next week? I can cook dinner and stuff…]
He hit send.
Noah let out a triumphant yell behind him—someone scored, apparently. A high five landed on Liam’s shoulder before he could even look up.
“Dude, finally! That throw was sick.”
Liam laughed once. Short.
He felt at ease. Like he’d put something back in place.
“Why you got that goofy-ass smile stamped on your face?” Noah’s voice again, but this time more amused.
Liam’s eyes flicked up.
“You grinning at your phone like some Disney princess,” Noah teased, plopping back down beside him. “Are nudes involved?”
“No,” Liam said quickly. “I just—nothing.”
Noah smirked and turned back to the screen, letting it drop without pressing.
Days passed, and things with Claire didn’t exactly slow down. If anything, they found a rhythm. They texted most days—sometimes light, sometimes deep. Had a couple post-work coffees that weren’t officially dates, but felt like they could’ve been. Talked between sets at the gym. Shared music. Joked about stupid stuff. And Liam realized he’d been looking forward to her messages, her laugh, even just seeing her name light up his phone. He hadn’t felt like this in a while. Not since the early days with Camila.
He was mid-set on the incline bench, chest tight, breath steady, when he spotted Noah across the room—dressed in his usual personal trainer gear, helping an older woman adjust the pulldown machine like he was auditioning for ‘Human Golden Retriever of the Year’. He had that casual charisma turned up to max, smiling as he nudged the pin into place and mimed the right motion with exaggerated form.
She laughed. Touched his arm. Of course.
Liam rolled his eyes and finished his set.
His arms trembled a little more than usual on the last rep. Could’ve been nothing. Could’ve been the fact he’d skipped lunch. And breakfast.
By the time he wiped the bench and grabbed his bottle, Noah was walking over, shaking his head and grinning.
“Yo,” he said, towel slung over one shoulder. “I heard someone’s got a hot date this Friday.”
Liam turned. “Oh?”
“Ashley told me,” Noah said, voice teasing but not mean. “Apparently Claire mentioned it at yoga or something.”
“Oh,” Liam said. “Yeah. I invited her over. We’ve actually been hanging out a lot”
Noah blinked once. His smile stayed, but he was looking a little too closely now—eyes skimming over Liam’s face, then narrowing subtly.
“…You good, man?” he asked, quieter this time. “You look kinda white. Like, ghost-tier. You eat today?”
Liam scoffed and looked away. “Didn’t have time today, work was crazy.”
Noah paused. Just a beat. Eyes still on him.
Then he raised his brows. “So that’s why you’ve been all hush-hush about you and Claire, huh? Work?”
Liam gave a half-shrug, suddenly aware of how sweaty he was.
Noah leaned on the machine next to him, casual. “She’s a good match, man. Smart. Hot. Chill. I can see it.”
Liam nodded slowly, unsure what to say.
“Anyway,” Noah continued, “I’ll swing by Friday afternoon. Help you get ready.”
Liam blinked. “Help me?”
“Yeah,” Noah said, like it was obvious. “Strategy session. Clothes, vibes, whatever.”
Liam let out a short breath, one corner of his mouth twitching.
“I mean…” he said, grabbing his towel, “I did just watch you seduce a senior lady at the lat pulldown machine, so yeah—you clearly know your stuff.”
Noah barked a laugh. “Hey, don’t hate the game. She literally went, ‘I haven’t gripped one this big in years.’’ What was I supposed to do, not help?”
“Definitely not,” Liam said, smirking as he took a sip from his bottle. “I think she’s ready to risk it all.”
“She is,” Noah replied proudly, tapping his chest. “And now you’re gonna be too. The VIP coaching package. You’re welcome.”
Liam shook his head but didn’t argue. Honestly? He liked the idea of someone else taking the wheel for a bit. Could be fun.
“Alright,” he smiled. “I’m in.”
Later, after they’d split off, Liam hit the locker room to grab his stuff. He popped the door open—same as always—and stared.
Sitting on top of his gym clothes, was one of those overpriced protein bars he liked. The exact flavor.
Perched neatly on top was a sticky note, written in Noah’s handwriting—quick, slanted, chaotic:
“Eat something, dumbass.”
Liam blinked at it. Then at the bar.
“…Did he—”
His eyes flicked to the side of the locker. Yup. Okay. He did lock it earlier.
He exhaled a breath somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.
Noah had used his employee master key. Of course he did.
“Freak,” Liam muttered under his breath, but he was smiling now. The kind you hide in the floor tiles.
He stuffed the note in his pocket, unwrapped the bar, and ate the whole thing before he even hit the parking lot.
Friday rolled around and he met Noah for an afternoon snack—but not before scrubbing his apartment twice, Febreezing the throw pillows, and changing his bedsheets three times.
They went to that usual spot near the gym. Cheap, fast, crowded. Noah showed up late with wet hair and zero apology, dropped into the booth with a plop.
The waiter walked up—tall guy, mid-twenties, with warm brown eyes and a name tag that read Erick.
“I’ll get the grilled chicken, no bun. Extra pickles,” Liam said.
Noah squinted at the name tag. “You hear that, Erick? Grilled chicken, no bun. He’s cutting carbs for his date tonight.”
Erick’s mouth twitched—just barely. Like he wasn’t supposed to laugh but kind of wanted to. “And for you?”
Noah smirked. “Same thing. But better.”
He gave a slow nod and walked off. Liam shot Noah a look across the table.
“What?” Noah said. “I’m getting your anxiety out, that’s all.”
By the time they were walking back to Liam’s place the sun was already down, traffic soft, everything quiet in that post-lunch lull. Liam was feeling good about Claire.
Noah slowed as they passed a lamppost, brow pulling slightly.
A torn flyer flapped in the breeze: MUGGINGS • ASHGROVE • STAY AWARE
He snorted. “They’re still putting those up?”
Liam barely glanced at it. “Guess people are still getting mugged.”
Noah shrugged. “Idiots walk around with their phones out like it’s not a city.”
They kept walking.
When they got there, Noah opened the door without asking. He stepped inside like he lived there, hoodie slung off in one motion.
“Smells good in here,” he said, giving the air a dramatic sniff. “Is that… desperation?”
Liam gave him a flat look. “It’s citrus.”
“Same thing,” Noah grinned, toeing off his sneakers.
They moved into the kitchen, where Liam had laid out some ingredients on the counter—nothing fancy yet, but it looked like someone was trying. Noah glanced at it all, gave an approving little nod, then turned to him with a smirk.
“Alright, let’s get to it,” he said, clapping his hands. “Date strategy. Phase one: interrogation.”
Liam narrowed his eyes. “Interrogation?”
“Uh, yeah. I gotta know where you’re at, mentally. This is coaching, dude. Gotta test your instincts. First question.”
He leaned against the counter, arms folded like a smug SAT proctor.
“You’re at dinner. Claire asks you what your biggest weakness is. What do you say?”
Liam hesitated. “Uh…”
“Don’t say ‘I care too much.’ That’s serial killer coded.”
Liam huffed a laugh. “I wasn’t gonna say that.”
“So?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess I’d say… I overthink things?”
Noah tilted his head. “Okay. Not bad. Honest. Slightly loser-y, but we can fix that.”
Liam made a face. “Thanks.”
“Next one,” Noah said, undeterred. “She compliments your cooking. Do you say, ‘Thanks, I try,’ or do you say, ‘Glad you’re into it, I was hoping I’d impress you’?”
Liam frowned. “Uh… first one?”
Noah clicked his tongue. “Nope. Beta energy. Always assume the attraction is mutual.”
“You’re really taking this seriously” Liam laughed, but he was sweating a little. “I told you, it’s cool, we’ve been going out.”
“Of course I am,” Noah said, casually reaching into Liam’s fridge like it was his own. “Today is about getting laid.”
He grabbed a soda and tossed it across the counter. Liam barely caught it.
And the game was on.
They continued the interrogation for a while—Noah tossing out ridiculous hypotheticals, half-serious advice, and unsolicited commentary on Liam’s “energy levels” like he was running a locker room TED Talk. Liam laughed more than he expected to. Relaxed a little.
And then Noah looked at him.
Paused.
Brows raised.
“Are you wearing that?”
The tone was flat. Judgment thick as molasses.
Liam looked down at himself. Fitted black jeans, clean white tee, a casual overshirt. Nothing fancy—but solid.
“Yeah,” he said, already defensive. “Why? Is it bad?”
Noah tilted his head like a disappointed stylist.
“Yup.”
Liam exhaled through his nose, annoyed. “It’s comfortable.”
“So is a Snuggie, dude. Doesn’t mean you wear it to seduce someone.”
He pushed off the counter and nodded toward the hallway.
“Come on. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
Liam hesitated, but Noah was already walking toward his bedroom like the decision was made.
Of course Liam followed.
Liam’s bedroom wasn’t big, but it was clean—like the rest of the apartment, scrubbed within an inch of its life. His closet doors were already open, a few shirts draped over hangers like they’d been considered and rejected one by one.
Noah walked in ahead of him, straight to the wardrobe like he’d been here a hundred times.
“Alright,” he muttered, flipping through hangers. “We need something that says ‘I’m hot but don’t know it,’ not ‘I’m apologizing for existing.’”
Liam hovered in the doorway.
Noah pulled out a dark, slim-cut button-up and a pair of tapered black pants. He laid them across the bed with a little theatrical flourish, then turned and clapped once.
“Try it on,” he said. Then, without missing a beat: “And change that underwear. What is this shit, middle school gym class?”
Liam hesitated.
“Can you—?”
“What?”
“Can you, like… step out for a second?”
Noah stared at him for a beat, then scoffed.
“Dude, fuck off. You’ve done worse. Like, objectively worse. Like, my-dick-in-your-mouth worse.”
“Ughh.” Liam winced. “Okay, Jesus.”
Noah just shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbing his phone.
Liam turned his back and pulled off his shirt, then pants and underwear, movements stiff. He tossed it into the hamper and reached for the button-up, letting it fall over his arms.
Then he bent to grab the pants from where Noah had dropped them—and that’s when it happened.
Noah looked up right as Liam leaned over, back arched unintentionally, ass in the open.
“Yooo,” Noah said, loud and laughing. “Dude. You don’t groom your junk?”
Liam straightened so fast he almost dropped the pants.
“I mean, you trim, yeah, I can tell. But like… bro. Balls, taint, ass. That whole zone’s a mess. That can be a full shutdown.”
Liam turned, horrified. “I do! I do groom!”
Noah raised a hand like he was being generous. “Not enough, man. Chicks don’t dig what you’ve got going on.”
Liam covered himself with the pants and muttered, “Can you maybe not look at my ass while I’m changing?”
“Then don’t bend over like a slut at bathhouse bingo,” Noah said, totally unbothered.
Liam pulled on the pants, ears hot.
Noah leaned back against the wall, arms folded, as Liam stepped out of the closet in the outfit—shirt half tucked, hair combed loosely, looking just a little uncomfortable but, well… undeniably hot.
Noah gave him a once-over, lips pursed, then nodded once with mock solemnity.
“Not bad,” he said. “Damn, you clean up.”
Liam rolled his eyes, tugging at the sleeve. “It’s fine.”
“It’s good,” Noah corrected. “Leave it out on a hanger though. Don’t shove it back in the closet or it’ll get all wrinkled.”
Liam snorted. “Okay, mom.”
He started pulling the shirt off again, stepping out of the pants.
Then:
“Jesus, dude,” he said, staring. “You seriously need to do something about… that.”
Liam paused, half-bent, confused. “What??”
“The hair,” Noah said, gesturing vaguely toward Liam’s entire lower half. “You got, like, a situation going on. Is that… Is that a taint fro?”
Liam shot upright, flustered. “Again?”
“Have you fucked her? Has she seen that?” Noah pushed off the wall and started walking toward the bathroom. “Girls hate that shit. You think Claire wants to get handsy with that?”
Liam opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he saw Noah emerging again—razor in hand, leaning on the doorframe like he was about to sell him a timeshare.
"No… We’re taking it slow.” Liam said flatly. “And I’m not shaving my ass.”
Noah shrugged. “Fine. Show up half feral. She’ll probably still let you hit, but it’ll be out of pity.”
“I said no.”
Liam just stared, horrified and frozen in place, while Noah twirled the razor casually between his fingers like a man on a mission.
Noah shrugged again, breezy. “I’m just saying… You dress like that, you cook, you charm her, things go well—and then what? She’s into it. Things get heated. Her hand starts drifting down. She’s thinking, ‘Damn, this guy’s hotter than I expected.’”
A beat.
“And then—bam,” Noah clapped once. “Welcome to the forest.”
Liam’s jaw clenched. “Would you shave your ass for a girl?”
Noah smiled. “I have a 10 inch cock, I don’t have to do shit.”
Liam rolled his eyes, groaned. “You’re making such a big deal out of this, dude.”
“It matters, man,” Noah said, stepping closer like he was about to stage an intervention. “Look, you don’t have to wax it, you don’t have to go baby smooth. But a little trim? Clean the borders? You’re literally five minutes away from being fuckable and respectable.”
Liam stared at the razor in Noah’s hand like it was radioactive.
“And if I cut myself?”
“I’ll coach you through it,” Noah said, absolutely serious. “I got tricks. Angles. Moisturizing tips.”
“That makes it worse.”
Noah grinned, lowering his voice just slightly. “C’mon, man. You trust me, right?”
Liam blinked once. Looked down. Then back up.
“…You’ve done this before?”
“Obviously.”
A long pause.
Liam sighed like a man giving up a war.
“Fine. But if I bleed out, I’m haunting you.”
“Bet.” Noah said, already handing him the razor like a sacred tool. “Now let’s make your taint great again.”
Liam climbed onto the bed with the razor in one hand and dread clinging to his soul. He settled on his back, legs awkwardly spread, towel under him like this was some medieval rite of passage.
“This is so fucked,” he muttered.
Noah stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Liam’s spread legs like a coach judging form. “You’re doing God’s work, man. She’ll thank you.”
Liam looked up, deadpan. “Do you have to be right there?”
“Do you want to chop your balls off?” Noah shot back, like it was a genuine risk.
Liam groaned, looked down at his junk like it had betrayed him, and brought the blade close.
He tried. He really did.
The first stroke was tentative. The second was slightly better. The third—
“Fuck,” he hissed, jerking his hips. “Okay. Ow. Fuck. I’m done.”
Noah took a step closer. “Did you cut yourself?”
“Just a nick,” Liam muttered, inspecting the damage. “Stings like a bitch.”
Noah exhaled like a disappointed dad watching a failed science fair project. “Dude, you were going against the grain.”
“I don’t fucking know my ass grain patterns, man. It’s not a lawn.”
A long beat passed. Liam laid back with the razor hanging in one hand, eyes on the ceiling like he was seeing his dignity float up toward the light.
“She can take me hairy or not at all.” He said.
Noah rubbed his temples, then huffed out a laugh. “You’re gonna owe me so fucking much.”
Liam frowned. “…What are you talking about?”
“I’ll help you,” Noah said, casually pulling the towel tighter under Liam’s hips like this was routine.
“What?! No—no, man.”
“It’s not weird unless you make it weird,” Noah said, already glancing toward the bathroom. “I’m just trying to prevent you from ruining your shot.”
Liam sat up a little, shaking his head. “Noah. Seriously. I don’t think—”
“You want this date to go well or not?” Noah cut in, raising an eyebrow. “Because trust me—if it does go well and she gets a handful of that, you’re done.”
Liam opened his mouth. Muted.
“I’ve done this before,” Noah said again, calmly. “I’m here for precision and efficiency. Like a surgeon.”
Liam stared, silent. Then, finally—
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine.”
Noah was already rolling up his sleeves, smirking.
Noah crouched in front of Liam, one hand braced against the mattress, the other resting on Liam’s thigh.
“Alright, spread ‘em,” he said, businesslike.
Liam hesitated, then let out a shaky breath and reached back, pulling his cheeks apart with both hands. The humiliation of it—putting himself on display like some pathetic slut—made his skin burn.
Noah leaned in. Taking it all in.
Smirking still.
Liam’s little pucker was twitching, it was so soft and pink, it really did remind Noah of pussy. He reached forward and lightly touched Liam’s inner thigh, then traced a thumb down from Liam’s balls. He continued, brushed his fingers on Liam’s asshole, lingering. Liam stopped breathing for a moment. By then, Liam’s cock was already chubbing up.
“Okay,” Noah muttered, brow furrowed. “Where’s your—”
He stood up mid-thought, crossed to the nightstand, and yanked the drawer open without ceremony. A second later he pulled out a half-used bottle of moisturizer and held it aloft like he’d found gold.
“Here it is.”
Liam twisted awkwardly, still holding himself open. “What the fuck is that for?”
Noah popped the cap and shook some onto his palm. “Dude. It’s why you knicked it. That skin’s thin as hell, and you’re dragging dry blades across it like you’re shaving drywall.”
And then he knelt again, bottle in hand, gaze steady. Like this wasn’t absolutely deranged.
“This is so fuuucked,” Liam muttered under his breath.
Noah rubbed his palms together once, then leaned in.
“Okay, don’t move.” he said.
Liam’s hole clenched before Noah even touched him.
He heard Noah’s breath hitch—just a fraction—and then felt the first touch of slick on his ass. The pressure dragged slow, deliberate, spreading the lotion everywhere. Literally.
Liam’s jaw locked.
His body didn’t betray him fully—but it twitched. A soft shift. A tiny, involuntary lift of his hips, like a reflex that wasn’t given permission.
Noah paused.
“You good?”
Liam’s voice was a rasp. “Fine.”
Noah didn’t comment. Just kept going. Quiet. Focused. His fingers got close to his hole, tracing the rims, back and forth.
Then a finger pressed inside and immediately went out. Like it was a mistake.
Liam shut his eyes knowing his cock was already hard. Don’t fucking think about it. It’s just grooming.
Another slow swipe, right on his ass lips, and Liam nearly choked on nothing.
He didn’t make a noise. But his face flushed so hard it was like heat was leaking out of his ears.
And Noah… said nothing. Kept moving. Kept touching. Kept pretending like this was normal. Like Liam’s skin wasn’t buzzing with confused electricity.
Noah clicked the razor. Liam flinched at the sound.
Noah noticed. “Dude. I’m not gonna cut you. I’m a professional.”
The first stroke was slow. Gentle, even. Liam’s breath caught. So ashamed he didn’t even noticed that:
Noah grinned.
“Huh. You’re hard.”
Silence.
“Didn’t know ass-grooming was your thing, but hey—I don’t judge, you know that.”
“Shut up,” Liam muttered.
Noah didn’t. “You think your future wife’s gonna do this for you?” he asked, voice syrupy. “Or are you hoping it’s, like, a bro job forever?”
Liam turned his face deeper into the sheets. “Please, shut up.”
Noah dragged the razor again—slow, efficient, devilishly gentle.
“You gotta spread more,” Noah said, calm as ever. “Like, a little wider.”
Liam gritted his teeth but obeyed, muscles twitching as he shifted, thighs trembling under the weight of his own shame. He felt cold air on his asshole, and then—worse—warm lotion again. Noah’s fingers moved with practiced precision, massaging in slow circles, getting way too close.
Then: fingers, closer. Between. Pressing in just slightly, again. A soft, curious prod right against his hole.
“Noah—” Liam’s voice cracked.
Noah didn’t stop. “Shh. I’m almost done.”
And then… the finger slipped in.
Just one. Slow. Casual.
Like it was part of the process.
Liam gasped—he instinctively clenched, but it was too late. The finger was in, warm and slick.
“Oh my God—” he whispered.
“You’re leaking again,” Noah said, twisting his finger with slow, infuriating control. “You sure this isn’t your thing, man? You sure this isn’t what your body’s been trying to tell you every time you see me?”
Liam kept quiet, squinting.
“I think there’s still a few stubborn ones deeper in,” Noah said, like he was talking about ingrown hairs and not casually fingering his best friend.
Before Liam could even protest, another finger slid in alongside the first—slick, slow inside his ass. And Noah pushed him open even more.
“—Jesus, man—”
“Dude, relax. You’ll tense and I’ll nick something,” Noah warned, in that maddeningly calm tone. “You want a clean shave or not?”
Liam bit down on a moan. His cock hadn’t softened once. Twitching with every shift of Noah’s fingers. A bead of precome clung to the head, already half-falling.
“Okay, okay—almost got it,” Noah murmured, eyes narrowed in fake concentration. “Just a few sneaky hairs up here…”
A third finger pressed in. Massaged the lips.
Liam’s back arched involuntarily. “Dude—Like—”
“You’re shaking,” Noah observed, voice just a little lower now. A little amused. “You good?”
Liam swallowed hard. His voice was hoarse when he finally muttered, “Are you… done?”
“Yeah, actually,” Noah said casually.
But then—all three fingers pushed just a little deeper inside Liam.
Liam jolted.
“Stop clenching your hole. I’m just withdrawing gracefully,” Noah said, like this was an etiquette lesson.
Slowly, he slipped his fingers out—deliberate.
Then he stood back and tilted his head, examining his work like it was a sculpted Greek statue. “Whoa, dude…”
Liam stayed still, praying for the earth to swallow him.
“…This looks like, you know…”
A pause. A grin.
“…Some grade-A pussy”
Liam sat up like he’d been tasered. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he muttered, scrambling off the bed.
He glanced around, saw the full-length mirror propped up awkwardly against the wall near the floor, and stumbled over to it—still wincing, still hard and leaking.
He crouched, tried to twist and look behind himself, but the angle sucked. All he could see was a blur of skin and shame. “Damn, hey, how can I…” Then he turned—and froze.
Noah was leaning casually against the dresser, shorts off, hard as hell. Thick, veiny, unapologetic.
Liam’s jaw dropped. “Bro??”
“What?” Noah shrugged. “Seeing your hole, smooth, real pink, needy and twitching at me like that? Of course this happened. And I have a huge cock. It hurts to keep it in my shorts, that’s all.”
Liam looked physically ill.
But Noah didn’t flinch. Instead, his eyes lit up with that smug glint again. “Yo,” he said suddenly. “I’ve got an idea. If you wanna really see what it looks like back there…”
Noah walked around the room, still completely naked from the waist down, his cock bobbing unapologetically with each step.
He grabbed the mirror and tilted it carefully, squinting as he adjusted the angle. “Kneel right here,” he said, pointing in front of him. “Facing away. I’ll line it up so you can get the full view.”
Liam moved like he was in a trance. He knelt in front of Noah, chest low, hands on the floor, ass up.
His voice cracked. “This is so fucking weird.”
Noah ignored him, leaned in to adjust the mirror again—this time behind Liam—and his throbbing cock swung forward, brushing across Liam’s cheek. Warm. Heavy.
Liam flinched like he’d been burned. “Hey—careful—”
“Oops,” Noah said, not sorry at all. He adjusted the mirror again, cock dragging across Liam’s nose, then neck as he leaned over. “Wait up.”
He crouched lower, checking the angle, then stood back. “Yeah, okay. Spread your cheeks open. A little more. Good.”
Another shift. Another accidental swipe—this time the head of Noah’s cock smeared against Liam’s lips. A smear of precum glistened.
Liam froze.
Noah noticed. “You’re fine, it’s just skin. Chill.”
Then he tapped the edge of the mirror. “Okay. Look. You can see it now.”
Liam shifted, peering into the mirror. The angle was weird—vulnerable—but clear.
“Whoa,” Liam said softly. “It’s really smooth. Like, freakishly smooth. It even feels different.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “You do that to your shit too?”
No response.
He turned.
Noah was still right there. One hand lazily wrapped around his cock, slow strokes gliding through slick. He wasn’t in a rush. He looked calm. Completely at ease.
Liam faltered. His eyes widened.
Noah didn’t flinch. He wasn’t looking at Liam.
Instead, his gaze drifted just over Liam’s shoulder—to the mirror. To the reflection of his hole.
“Yeah, man,” he murmured, voice low and almost reverent. “I’m an artist.”
His thumb slid over the head, catching the leak and smearing on the swollen head.
“Your ass looks amazing.”
Liam didn’t move. Something about the way Noah was looking at the mirror—not him, not directly—made his brain swirl.
He started to shift up, bracing his arms, trying to crawl away from the mirror and the view and the impossible image of Noah jerking off just inches away. His muscles ached with tension.
But then Noah’s hand landed on his shoulder. Firm. Heavy and unmoving.
“Stay.”
Liam froze.
“Dude, I—”
“You gonna make me finish alone?” Noah’s voice was light, but underneath it—something sharp. Something dangerous.
Liam swallowed. “I—I have a date later, man.”
Noah snorted. “I know that! I’m helping you get laid. I’m getting no pussy tonight.” His hand tightened slightly. “You think I shaved your ass out of boredom?”
Liam paused. His pulse was in his throat.
“What’s the big deal?” Noah said, quieter now. “Help me out. We’ve done all this—Jesus Christ.”
He didn’t wait for a reply—he reached forward. Fingers brushing over Liam’s ribs. Then lower. Then up. Slowly teasing over Liam’s chest until they landed on a nipple.
He flicked it. Light. Playful. Testing.
Liam gasped—body lurching.
Noah smiled. God that was easy.
He rolled the nipple between his fingers, slow and deliberate, like tuning a dial. “Like this, huh?”
Liam’s breath shuddered.
“You’re moaning,” Noah said softly.
“I’m not,” Liam snapped—but his voice was too thin. Too wrecked.
“Yeah, you are.” Noah leaned in, stroking his cock again with lazy control, his other hand still playing with Liam’s chest. “Just let go, for fuck’s sake. Have fun.”
Liam twisted, looking toward the wall clock—wide-eyed, frantic. “Man, please…” he muttered, cock leaking now but breath shaky. “Claire’s probably already on her way here…”
Noah didn’t even blink. He just leaned back, cock heavy in his hand, smirk sharpening.
“So you better start, then.”
He went on.
“Just get real close to it. Peel it back. Breathe me in. Y’know the drill” Noah’s tone was mock-casual. “I ran all the way here. Been sweating. I bet you’ll like it, little buddy.”
Liam stared at him, incredulous—then at the clock again. The panic, the shame, the confusion. It all blurred into one terrible conclusion: I just need to be fast.
His body moved before his brain could stop it. He leaned in. His face hovered close to the head and with one last moment of self-respect hanging by a thread, he peeled the foreskin back.
The scent hit him—warm, salty, raw—and something in his chest twitched. He let out a noise, sharp and involuntary. A weird, half-swallowed hum of shameful pleasure.
What the fuck… why does that smell… feel like that? The thought tumbled through him, panicked and confused. It didn’t make sense, how something so filthy, so disgusting, could light his whole body up like that.
Noah caught it instantly.
“There he is.” he said, voice soft and amused. “My little buddy.”
Liam tried to look away, but Noah didn’t let him.
Noah’s hand hovered near his cheek, thumb brushing his jaw, keeping him locked in place. “Go ahead,” Noah murmured. “Get the tip in your mouth and jerk your little dick off.”
Liam hesitated for half a second—then opened. Slowly. Reluctantly.
Noah guided himself in with terrifying ease, just the head at first. Liam’s lips closed around it, warm and tense and thick. The taste hit him fast—manly, earthy, so real it made his eyes flutter.
At the same time, his hand went to his own cock—already hard, already leaking. He started stroking, fast and mechanical, like he was trying to get it over with.
Noah chuckled. “That’s it,” he said, smoothing a hand through Liam’s hair. “See? You’re just thanking me for this afternoon. Chill.”
Liam let out a noise, low and muffled.
“You’re doing so good,” Noah cooed, voice dipped in mock sympathy. “Bet Claire couldn’t handle this. Bet she’d freak if she saw you like this, huh?”
Liam moaned around him, humiliation bleeding into arousal in the worst possible way.
Then Noah shifted. Just a little. Just enough to make Liam pause.
“Hey,” he said, gently tapping Liam’s hip. “Spread your ass for me.”
Liam froze.
“I wanna see it in the mirror. C’mon, man. Just reach back. Pull it open.”
His voice was calm. Almost sweet. But underneath it—command. Control.
Liam’s breath hitched. His free hand slid back slowly, hesitantly. Then the other. He reached around and pulled, exposing his asshole completely—still sucking Noah off, shame burning.
Noah exhaled. “Fuuuck,” he whispered. “That’s so hot. You’re seriously gonna make me cum just from this view. That isn’t just a hole, little buddy, that right there is a pussy.”
Liam flinched at the word but didn’t answer. Didn’t even look up.
He just tried to take more. Desperate. He could feel the texture of Noah’s cockhead passing through his lips, up until his throat then back. Mouth stretched, jaw aching, throat tight as he pushed down, ignoring everything Noah had just said.
He just wanted it done.
Noah exhaled sharply, cock twitching against his tongue. “Damn,” he muttered, brushing Liam’s hair back gently. “Look at you, so eager all of a sudden. Are you this thristy for my babies?”
Liam’s hands kept working between his legs, stroking fast and sloppy, while he struggled to get more of Noah inside. He needed to just finish him off.
They stayed like that for a beat too long—Liam panting around his pulsing cock. Noah heavy and slick in his mouth, the mirror still tilted behind them, showing everything every twitch of Liam’s hole. He could feel everytime it twitched.
Then, without warning, Noah pulled out of his drooling mouth.
Liam gasped, spit trailing from his lips. “??—?”
Noah didn’t answer. He reached behind him, toward a messy pile of clothes by the dresser—digging around with one hand while the other lazily stroked his cock.
Then he pulled out a dumbbell. Just the bar—the kind you load with plates yourself.
Liam’s stomach dropped.
“No,” he said immediately, voice cracked and hoarse. “No, dude. Please, not that again.”
Noah raised an eyebrow, still casual. “Why? Don’t you want me to cum fast?”
He held the dumbbell like it was the final piece of some workout circuit.
“That’s the way to go.”
Liam’s whole body tensed. “Dude. I swear to God—”
Noah shrugged. “Or we can wait. Claire might wanna join. Make it a threesome.” He grinned.
Liam’s eyes locked on the dumbbell as Noah squirted lotion onto the handle—calm, methodical. Like he was prepping a massage tool, not a weapon of ego destruction.
“Don’t drop it,” Noah said, voice smooth as he handed it over. He didn’t step back. He didn’t give Liam space. He just stood there—right in front of him—naked, hard, and smirking. His cock twitched with every heartbeat, swaying gently, almost mockingly, just inches from Liam’s face. “It’ll be easier now that you’re smooth.”
Behind Noah, the mirror showed everything. Liam’s bent posture, the slick handle in his hands, the look of pure defeat in his eyes.
Liam swallowed. Then reached back, slowly, gripping the dumbbell with both hands.
His body trembled as he bent lower, awkwardly trying to guide the metal tip against his puckered asshole, knees spreading more for leverage. His face hovered too close to Noah’s cock, pre cum dangling from the head, which bobbed right there in front of him, like a metronome counting down his last scraps of dignity.
He pushed. It didn’t go in easily. He grunted, hips jerking. The angle was awful. Everything was too tight, too raw, too much.
Noah didn’t move. He just watched—head tilted, expression soft with disgusting encouragement.
Then his voice: low, coaxing.
“You’re doing great.”
Liam groaned.
Noah’s hand moved—reaching down to himself, stroking lazily as he stared down at Liam trying desperately to shove a dumbbell end inside his hole. “Push a little more. You’re so close.”
The handle shifted suddenly and it went in. Liam gasped. His eyes fluttered.
“Ahhhh—”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Noah whispered. “Keep going though, don’t stop there, you want more, don’t you?”
Both his hands reached forward, gently tweaking Liam’s nipples—soft at first, then firmer, rolling it between his fingers like he was winding him up.
Liam whimpered. His ass lips actually relaxed and the dumbbell slid in further like it was being sucked in.
Noah smiled. “Thaaaat’s it. Just let it happen, little buddy. You’re helping me so much right now.”
Liam whimpered. The dumbbell slid in further still.
Noah smiled, gaze fixed not on Liam’s body, but on his face.
He saw it. That expression.
Lips parted. Brows drawn. That soft, broken look of someone horrified at how good it felt.
And then—a moan. “Um—mmmh—oooohhhh.”
Soft. Barely audible. But real.
Noah’s cock twitched in his hand.
“Yeahh, baby, you feel so good.” he cooed, eyes locked on Liam’s reflection. “I know, I know… But you gotta keep going, okay?”
Liam shuddered. His breath came in ragged waves, hand still awkwardly wrapped around his own cock, too overwhelmed to move it much. Pushing the metal bar inside him.
Noah tilted his head, admiration in his voice.
“Yeah… that’s good. See? You’re done. You made it.”
A beat. Then, almost cheerfully:
“Now it’s the fun part. Go back to my dick, yeah? Keep jerking yourself. Make my dick feel good.”
He stepped just a little closer, cock now casting a shadow over Liam’s flushed face. He stroked it once, lazily.
Liam obeyed—because at this point, there was no resistance left in him. It felt too good. He leaned forward again, eyes low, lips parting as he took Noah back into his mouth. The taste hit him instantly, stronger than before. Raw. Familiar now.
His hand resumed its motion on his own cock, but slower this time—like he wasn’t even trying to finish.
Noah looked down at him, cock twitching in his mouth, then up—to the mirror.
And what he saw made his eyes light up.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, grinning. “Jiggle your ass a little.”
Liam made a noise, muffled by the dick in his mouth.
“C’mon, man. Do it. Small movements, twerking kinda. You’ll feel it.”
Liam gave a shaky, awkward little shift—his hips grinding ever so slightly back and forth, the dumbbell inside him shifting with it. Fuck. He just wanted to get dressed up for Claire.
Noah groaned.
“Fuuuck. Dude. That’s unreal. Your hole is twitching around the dumbbell like crazy, I can see it. It’s beautiful.”
He kept his eyes locked on the mirror, stroking the part of the shaft outside Liam’s mouth.
“Okay, little buddy,” he said, voice low and breathless. “I’m close. But I need one more thing, okay?”
Liam moaned around him—kind of like “yeah, whatever”, like he’d given up asking questions two brain cells ago.
“Take my cock out of your mouth, look at me, jerk me off, and say…”
A beat.
“I have a dumbbell in my pussy.”
Liam was absolutely paralyzed.
His whole body tensed—lips still around Noah heavy cock, eyes wide like something had just snapped inside him. He didn’t pull back. Just stayed completely still, like his brain was buffering that line on repeat.
Noah didn’t press. He waited for it to sink in.
Then—buzz-buzz.
Liam’s phone, on the floor beside them.
Screen lighting up.
He twisted his head to the side, eyes darting toward it—and read:
[CLAIRE: i’m in your street! want anything?]
Liam made a sound. A ghastly, high-pitched inhale of panic.
“Noah—” he croaked, finally pulling back from his dick, spit trailing from his mouth, breath catching.
Noah raised an eyebrow, smiling. “She’s close, huh?”
“Dude, I can’t—she’s outside—”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Noah said, stepping closer, cock throbbing in his hand. “We have, like, two minutes tops. No time for your drama. Just say it and help me finish.”
“I—Jesus Christ—”
Noah’s grin widened. “It’s just words for fuck’s sake. Say it, jerk me off, and I’ll cum right now. And it’s over. Boom. You win.”
Liam stared at him, chest heaving, thighs shaking, dumbbell stretching his pink little hole.
He closed his eyes—frozen in place, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile uphill in shame.
Then he snapped.
“FINE, fuck it—just be fast, man. Okay?!”
Noah’s grin widened, pure smugness dripping from every syllable. “Of course, little buddy. You help me, I help you. That’s how bros work.”
Liam pulled Noah’s cock into his mouth again with practiced defeat, and started working it with a desperate rhythm. The head was back and forth on Liam’s lips. He could taste the pre cum coming out of the piss slit. So much fucking pre cum. His own hand, however, had stopped. His cock throbbed in open rebellion, but he wasn’t touching it.
Noah noticed immediately.
“Hey,” he said, voice lightly scolding. “You’re not jerking off.”
Liam pulled off with a gasp, spit clinging to his lips again.
“I can’t cum, dude,” he blurted. “I have a date. We’re gonna… you know…”
Noah’s smile dropped.
A pause.
Then something darker shifted behind his eyes. Not angry—just decided.
“Nah,” he said quietly. “You cum right now.”
“I can’t!”
“I’m telling you,” Noah said, bored. “You’re gonna jerk your pathetic little dick till it shoots.”
Liam looked like he was going to argue again, but Noah bright his hands to his mouth, spat on both, stepped in—reached forward—and pinched both nipples at once.
Liam yelled, voice cracking high and raw. His body jerked, knees buckling slightly as the jolt of stimulation hit him like a current.
Noah didn’t stop. He rolled them gently, then firmly, fingers playing him like a switchboard. “There we go,” he whispered. “Let loose, nothing else matters.”
Liam moaned again, louder this time, face flushed, eyes dazed—and his hand went right back to his cock. Like he could not help himself.
Noah smiled like a proud parent. “Gooooooooood boy, little buddy.”
Liam was panting, jerking fast now, whole body trembling like a live wire.
And then—
Noah’s voice dropped, soft and cruel and final:
“Now… say it.”
Liam’s voice cracked as he tried.
“I—”
He looked at Noah, one hand jerking him rapidly, the other working his own, greedy strokes. His eyes were glazed, half-lidded, high on sex. Noah’s fingers were still pinching his nipples, gently but insistently, like he owned the nerves beneath them.
Liam shuddered.
“I… I hav—”
“Say it,” Noah whispered, breathless and brutal. “Keep looking at me.”
Liam’s voice came out strangled.
“I have… a dumbbell… in… my—shit, man” Liam’s eyes were shaking “…my…pussy.”
“You motherfucker” Noah moaned. Looking down at him. “Again. Don’t stop stroking.”
Liam hesitated—then gasped it again, face like lava.
“I—I have a dumbbell in my pussy.”
Noah’s grip tightened on his nipples.
“I can see that you do. Now louder.”
“I have a dumbbell in—fuck—”
“In your what? Keep going, little buddy,” Noah panted. “That’s it. Again.”
“I have a dumbbell in my pussy,” Liam sobbed, eyes crossing. “I have a dumbbell in my pussy—Jesus, FUCK— nghhhh… I have a dumbbell in my pussy—” His nipples felt so good in between Noah’s fingers.
Noah could feel his balls squeezing jizz up his cock, face twisted, body throbbing. “Yeah. Yeah, you do. You have such a pretty little pussy—say it, fuck—say it while I cum all over your gooner little face—”
Through the haze of it all —fingers punishing his nipples— Liam’s own hand stroking himself in clumsy, desperate pulls. The smell of Noah’s pubes. The pressure inside his asshole, its twitching, the stretch. He could barely think, barely breathe.
His fingers still slick and clumsy as they worked his hard dick, his stomach already sticky with pre cum. He hated how much he liked it, how good it felt to pump his own cock while Noah wrecked his nipples, but he couldn’t stop.
It was like a dam bursting—every nerve sparking at once, leaving him helpless, babbling nonsense as his hips bucked and his voice cracked:
“I have a PRETTY P— PRETTY LITTLE PUSSY!” Liam shouted, eyes wide, mouth open, smiling at Noah, genuinely smiling as the words fell out of him alongside drool, faster now, humiliating and raw. “I have a dumbbell in my pussy, I have a dumbbell in my FUCKING LITTLE pussy—” His hand going faster on faster on both of them. The pleasure he was feeling dissolving any resistance his mind tried to muster.
“Holy shit, dude, you look so pathetic.”
Noah was panting now, every muscle in his body drawn tight, abs, chest, arms. He stared at Liam—his flushed face, the way he moaned those cursed words on loop, like a broken prayer. The sight of Liam, wrecked and trembling with a dumbbell still inside him, finally pushed him over the edge.
“HmmmmmmMMMMMGGGGGG FUCKKKKK—” he shouted, voice cracking. “KEEP SAYING IT, YOU FUCKING FREAK—”
His voice was hoarse but steady, the words spilling out rhythmically between gasps.
“I have a dum—BBELLL in my pussyy”
Noah groaned, hips jerking forward, scalding hot jizz spurting out of his dick hole directly onto Liam’s face and mouth and hair. His moans ragged, long and manly.
Liam’s breath came in stutters now—his hand flying over his cock, thighs trembling, stomach tightening with every pump. His face was streaked with Noah’s warm dripping cum, and the scent, the heat, the mess—it was everywhere.
“Ohhhhhhh, thats gooooOOOD. Keep going, little buddy.” Noah breathed out. “Lemme ride it out.”
His hips jerked. He said it faster now. Still looking at Noah.
“I have a dumbbell in my pussy!”
His voice broke slightly. Faster still.
“I—I have a dum—I have a dumbbell in my—”
His head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut. His hand was frantic now, spit and precum making slick sounds that only made it worse.
Noah was still catching his breath, Liam’s hand was still milking the last of his jizz. His eyes were fixed on Liam, wide and unblinking, like he couldn’t tear himself away.
And Liam? A mess. Knees spread. Chest heaving. Eyes crossed. Noah’s hands on his nipples didn’t stop.
“I have a dumbbell in my pussy—”
A moan tore out of him. Loud,broken and high-pitched.
“I have a dumbbell in me—ahhhhh FUCK—”
His voice cracked into a sob. Each repetition came harder, more desperate. Liam’s hand was a blur now, his face flushed and twitching, close—so close.
And Noah—Noah just stood there, basking.
He let out a low, wrecked laugh through his nose, still dazed, still high off his own orgasm.
“Goddamn, you get so hot when you’re this needy, little buddy…” he whispered. “Keep going, you’re doing so great.”
“I—I—fuck—I have—oh my God—”
“Yeah, that’s right… lose yourself in it. Come on!”
And then his whole body snapped.
He came hard, groaning like it hurt, hot ropes of cum splashing against his already ruined stomach, his twitching thighs, even the goddamn floor. His ass muscles seized around the dumbbell still lodged deep inside him, drawing another degrading whimper from his lips.
He kept muttering the words even as he came and as his eyes fluttered shut—softer now, slurred and broken.
“…dumbbell in pussy… dumbbell in my… my pussy”
Until finally… silence.
Just his shaking, and Noah’s slow, satisfied breathing.
Liam was still on his knees, twitching, breath ragged. Cum clung to his stomach, his chest, face and a lot more on his hair. His ass still clenched helplessly around the dumbbell, like it didn’t know the scene was over.
Noah stood above him, slowly stroking the last drops from his softening cock, eyes overflowing with satisfaction.
Neither of them spoke.
And then—
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
A light, cheerful tap at the front door.
Both of them froze.
Noah’s eyes slid toward the hallway.
Then, like a blade through the air, they heard her voice—sweet and muffled but unmistakably close:
“Liaaam? I’m here!”
Liam’s heart stopped.
Noah turned to him, still breathing hard, still flushed, and grinned. Slow. Evil.
“…You wanna get that?”
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