I need a fucking miracle

Noah noticed immediately, the moment Jolly walked in, his eyes were glued. It wasn't because the guitarist was showing off, wasn't because he was talking, wasn't because he disappeared for two hours, wasn't because he was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago, wasn't because he didn't have a shirt on—

No, no, none of it helped though, not as Jolly just returned from the gym with his hair up in a messy bun and a thin layer of sweat drying on his forehead and chest, which was unfortunately bare and on perfect display for anyone in the room. Anyone being just Noah and Nicholas, but Nicholas didn't have any issues with Jolly, he didn't mind that the man was late, nor that he didn't have a shirt on, but that was because he didn't have a… problem.

A staring problem.

Noah, regrettably, very much did. Especially when it came to the drop-dead gorgeous Swede standing no more than 15 feet away, giving him a perfect view of abs and chest and shoulders and biceps and… forearms—

And hands, because as much as Noah was desperate to deny any accustation towards his little attention breaks— as he called them— where he was supposed to be doing something else, Joakim fucking Karlsson walks into the room and Noah's brain just quits. It wasn't like he wasn't aware, no, he was very fucking aware, he was just far too embarassed to even think too hard about what Jolly did to him by merely standing at his side.

Nicholas called him out on it multiple times, but he was grateful that now was not one of those instances as Jolly picked up the sweatshirt that had been haphazardly thrown over the back of the couch earlier when Noah came down. And shit, it was Noah's sweatshirt. That wasn't to say that between all of them that they didn't share clothes, no, it was hard not to when you lived on a bus with three other bandmates and numerous crew members, but between Noah and Jolly specifically?

They were both over 6 feet, taller than everyone else in the crew, and they wore the same size clothes, always had, so it was no surprise their stuff got mixed up the most. However, despite knowing that, Noah couldn't help but find he liked seeing Jolly in something that was his, or something that he thought was his, or something that he'd recently worn.

Of course, Noah would never admit that though, certainly not to Jolly himself, at least. But god it was hard not to stare as Jolly pulled the black Naruto hoodie over his head, giving Noah a few seconds to unabashedly stare at the man's stomach, flexing with his movements.

“You're late.” Noah spoke, but it was unsteady, voice cracking at the end in a way that had Jolly raising a brow and Nicholas covering his own mouth to muffle the laugh threatening to escape him. Any previous conviction in the singer’s voice wavered, and Noah was left to grasp at the straws of his sanity when Jolly sits beside him, knees almost touching.

“Right, sorry, someone stopped me on my way out.” Jolly smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms, the sweatshirt rode up just that much, and Noah was instantly drawn to the window of space between the hoodie and sweatpants, the boxerband that he could see from his perch mere inches away. He tried, he tried so fucking hard to not stare, but just a secret peek turned into a staring contest with nothing.

Jolly moved as Nicholas turned towards the TV, their equipment hooked up for a chill creative session they decided on two days ago. The guitarist leans forward, elbows on his knees and hands threaded together under his chin, keen on getting the creative juices flowing.

Noah, though…

Noah's having regrets after remembering Jolly goes to the gym every other day. Not that the man smelled— even if he did Noah wasn't sure he cared as much as he should— but the sight of a slightly sweaty, muscled and toned Jolly sitting just a little too close had Noah in hysterics. Despite that, his focus was partially shifted to the music, working through a riff Jolly did that caught all of their attention last week.

It was honestly relaxing, Nicholas strumming along with the bass, trying to find a tune he liked, Folio patting a beat on his thighs and laughing, Jolly pressing away on the laptop, in charge of replaying the riff, his guitar laying mostly untouched beside him as they worked through it.

And Noah?

Noah, aside from his slight desire to lean into Jolly's space, was humming, bobbing his head side to side with the beat Folio was giving them.

They ran like that for a while, actually getting through quite a bit, and turns out— like always— Jolly's riff had hit their creative block right over the head, cracking it open, and the ideas flowed smoothly after that.

Noah didn't know if he wanted to sock the guitarist in the jaw or suck his brains out through his dick.

He unanimously decided on the latter.

——————————

Noah was up early on Saturday, their session on Thursday had gone well, good, great, spectacular even, but now he was faced with yet another instance of Jolly.

He needed to get the tall fucker out of his head, the stupid Swede took up too much of his brain power, always just floating around, poking and prodding at Noah's sanity and sexual desires. His pretty face framed in places in his mind where it shouldn't be, imagining those brown eyes tracing Noah’s body if they were alone, hands touching him in ways they never had.

God, Jolly's hands were becoming another problem. On one hand, Noah knew that it was stupid, it wasn't like Jolly's hands were bigger than his, no, actually, Noah's fingers were longer. But, Jolly's were thicker, hefty and with more muscle, more calloused and rough in spots Noah's skin was smooth and close to the bones.

Stop

Another example of how stupid Jolly was always fluttering around in his brain like a saint, and how like he was the epitome of Noah's horny self.

Not that Noah would ever admit that, of course.

Desperate to get the gorgeous man out of his thoughts, Noah began to make himself a cup of coffee, scrolling through Instagram while he waited, standing in front of the machine, back to the room. Slowly, the hot water-coffee mixture began to run into the cup, the constant stream a pleasant sound to his ears, so much so that—

Oh

There was a hand on his waist and an arm reaching around him to grab the now full cup of coffee, the familiar feeling of coarse facial hair scraping against the side of his neck, and Noah froze at the unexpected proximity.

Too close

“g’ mornin’.” Jolly rasped, standing far too close with his voice still far too deep from sleep, adorable and far too arousing. Hooking his chin over Noah's shoulder, Jolly crowded him against the counter. Bringing the mug to his lips for a sip, Jolly groaned, “Black? Really? You're crazy, Noah…” The guitarist grumbled, and suddenly he was nuzzling into the side of Noah's neck, hips slotted against Noah's ass, arms encasing Noah's torso, hair tickling the side of Noah's face.

Noah wanted to pull away, he swears, he wanted to tell Jolly to fuck off, that it was his coffee, and not Jolly’s, wanted to deny the warmth budding in his chest at the heated body pushing up behind him, shrouding him in the scent and feel of Jolly.

But he didn't, because Noah was just a man who was so down bad for his best friend that he was thirsting for any drop of attention he could get.

Noah found himself involuntarily sinking into Jolly's body, letting himself relax with a hum as Jolly brought the coffee to Noah's lips, letting him take a sip— which Noah desperately tried to ignore the twitching in his pants as he brought the cup to his lips, right where Jolly's mouth was mere seconds ago. He let his neck relax, head lolling, landing against the older man's shoulder and placing his hand on the one Jolly had on his waist. Jolly sighed softly, ghosting his lips over Noah's shoulder, maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe he was delusional, but Noah swore the man's lips were a little too firm, a little too insistent, too comfortable to just be the moving of his head.

Noah almost fell when Jolly pulled away, it wasn't instant, no, he slowly extracted himself away from Noah's back, setting the cup of coffee down before slipping away. The singer stumbled, sending a glare at Jolly—

But oh, his hair was messy, his part at odd angles that had him looking utterly adorable.

Grabbing another mug from the cabinet, Jolly rinsed out the inside before grabbing the small coffee pod to make himself some of the delicious, pure energy that he would need for the gym—

Oh fuck

Jolly was going to the gym this morning, that's why he's up so early. Noah forgot, well, until right now as the man in question presses up against his back once more.

“Not even gonna move? Oh sweet boy, your dangerous this morning.” Jolly hummed lowly, setting the cup under the machine and pod in it like he didn't just say… that. Once the coffee machine made its telltale sounds of life, Jolly wrapped his arms around Noah's waist, one hand splaying over the singer's stomach, the other holding that one in place.

Noah froze, letting out a little gasp at— once again— how close he was.

“I hate you…” Noah whispers, but it's whimpery, has that notable whiney beg that Jolly knows oh-so well. Yet, the words don't stop Noah, and soon enough, he's leaning back into the embrace, again.

Noah was cold, anyways.

And Jolly was warm, it worked out.

The older man laughed a little, voice still a little deeper than his normal, cheeky tone. He presses against Noah heavily, firm body flush with the singer's back, slowly, his hand wandered, the one on his stomach unmoving as the other wandered over Noah's side, making its way up to caress his collarbone. “So pretty, all quiet and complacent like this…” Jolly whispered, and Noah almost didn't hear him in favor of trying to stop his dick from getting too excited about this.

But god, it was hard not to when Jolly was pressed so close, so close that Noah could feel the way Jolly's cock twitched in his pants against his ass.

And oh.

Oh oh oh oh fuck—

He shouldn't, Noah really knows he shouldn't be doing this, the Nicks are home, Matt's home, Davis is coming over this morning, Bryan has a photoshoot planned for this afternoon, he should not be rolling his hips, no matter how much he wants it.

But he is, because he can hear a swift intake of air next to his ear, Jolly's mouth on the side of his jaw as he pushes a little harder.

“Like I said, dangerous this morning, pretty boy.” Jolly murmurs against his skin, tapping his boy's stomach before removing his hands, picking up the cup of coffee— which was all too quickly done brewing. “Don't get too far, Pretty, we have things to do.” Jolly smirked, letting his fingers ghost over Noah's lower back as he walked away.

Oh fuck

Noah was hard, throbbing, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He wanted to wipe that smug look off Jolly's face so desperately… but the guitarist was out of sight before Noah could even force his body to move. He just stood stupidly, staring blankly in the direction the man disappeared in.

——————————

Time drags by when Jolly isn't there, Noah notices, maybe it’s because he was always subconsciously focused on the guitarist’s presence that when the swede isn't around his mind is just… blank. He tries playing games, gets bored 20 minutes in after he dies pathetically. He went for a run, was out for what felt like hours, returning a sweaty, gross mess.

Merely 14 minutes.

He showers, because now hes disgustinting and drenched, obviously.

A depressing 18 minutes.

Jolly's normally at the gym for upwards of 2 hours, not including drive or walking time. But, Noah knows he walked today, watched him leave while trying to prevent his brain from wandering down that dangerous path that entailed a sweat drenched, tanktop and cargo pants adorned Jolly walking into their house looking like God himself.

He really needed to find something he hated Jolly in, just to be able to think about that instead of literally everything else.

Alas, he found himself taking another cold shower, heated body and hardened cock in his hand.

The water didn't help until after he could watch his cum circle the drain.

——————————

The 2 hours, 24 minutes, and 57 seconds that Jolly was gone was pure agony. Noah and Nicholas were slouched on the couch when he returned, Nicholas still in his pajama hoodie and sweatpants, Noah in a pair of black slacks, a black turtleneck, and the button up stage shirt unbuttoned, giving Jolly a clear view of the way his chest and abs were defined underneath the pesky clothing.

Jolly stood just outside the living room in the kitchen, staring dumbly as if he'd never seen the clothing before— of course he had, it was typical Noah-wear, but it didn't make it any less drool-worthy in Jolly's opinion.

He had to swallow down the urge to go up and kiss Noah right then and there in favor of maintaining his sanity, because if he even so much as touches Noah, Jolly thinks that he himself might combust on the spot.

“Where are we meeting Bryan?” Jolly asks, prayers answered as his voice doesn't even sway, and he sounds entirely more sane than he feels. Especially when those mocha brown eyes turn to him like he hung the moon, and Jolly gets to watch the sun set right before him.

He was so fucked.

Jolly sits on the complete opposite side of the couch until Bryan gets there, remaining silent even when Nicholas left to shower. He and Noah were alone, too alone. The guitarist could feel it, the heat, the yearning.

At least, for Jolly?

He was standing on one toe at this point, barely even having a leg to stand on if Noah decided he was going to move.

Thankfully and angrily, Noah stayed eerily still the whole 23 minutes Nicholas was out of the room.

They get around to the photoshoot after Davis insists on beating Noah's ass in a Smash Bros competition, piling into both Noah and Matt’s car.

——————————

Jolly wasn't one to keep his hands to himself on days like this, slinging an arm around whoever was nearby, picking Folio up and putting him on stepstools just to watch the drummer’s face go red as he swore, getting to whisper into Noah’s ear, just for the sake of flustering his poor singer…

But everyone noticed the moment Jolly leaned up against a tree, not even brushing past a soul in the clearing they'd be doing the shoot in.

He didn't mock Folio's height, and certaining didn't go near Noah— it anything, he kept a conscious 50 foot distance from the taller man.

No teasing remarks, no playful banter from him…

No, because if he even thought about touching Noah, Jolly was sure that he himself might just vanish on the spot— but not after getting painfully hard.

The photoshoot was stiff, the shots were good, but off-scenes was tenser than watching a sports game that was still tied in the last minute of play.

Jolly adamantly refuses to go with Noah, and ends up making Matt drive him, who is no happier than to stop at the store, stop for gas, and then at a cornerstone for a pack of cigarettes, just to get Jolly to snap.

Matt's voice comes out of nowhere, and Jolly flinches when he returns with two packs, handing one to the guitarist. “Am I gonna have to ask Noah, or are you gonna snap outta whatever fucking thing your up in your head about?” Matt's voice isn't angry, annoyed at most, but there's a hint of a challenge that has Jolly's chest tightening and eyes narrowing.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jolly huffs, sliding a cigarette out and getting to Matt's lighter before the other man could even think about it.

“You know,” Matt huffed, buckling his seatbelt and starting back to the house. “Don't make me spell it out for you.”

Jolly is positively confused, flicking the ashes out the window. “Well I'm gonna ask you to, jackass.”

Matt groans, glaring at him once they stop at a red light. “Are you fucking… Alright look, you need to get your head outta your ass— Noah needs to too— and just fucking fuck each other already. I'm sick of watching this IRL sitcom between you two and you won't even have sex with each other and make it more interesting for the rest of us.”

Jolly eyes went wide, he choked, coughing into his elbow, and his eyes clenched shut.

What the fuck?

“—Matt—” He managed, flicking the half smoked cigarette out the window, still coughing.

“Don't Matt me, if you don't get your shit together I'm locking you two in the basement.” Matt huffed, pulling into Noah's driveway just as Jolly caught his breath, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“I hate you.” Jolly grumbled, sliding out of the car and slamming the door, all but speedwalking up the steps and into the house.

They were all home, Nicholas, Folio, Davis, Bryan, Noah, and unfortunately Matt, who was walking in behind him.

“I really fucking hate you.” Jolly muttered, toeing his shoes off and desperately ignoring the sight of Noah without any shirt on as the singer yelled at Folio for killing him. Jolly doesn't even stop to look at the game they're playing, going right upstairs to collapse onto his bed.

Fuck.

——————————

He rejoins the group almost two hours later, only because Bryan texted him that they made the freezer pizzas that Jolly loves for dinner.

He regrets it immediately though, because Noah still hasn't put a fucking shirt on, and is just lazing about like he doesn't look too good for Jolly's brain to handle. Muttering to himself, Jolly unlaces his arms from his sweatshirt and pulls the hoodie over his head, tossing it at Noah, who catches it with wide eyes. “Quit being a half naked, asshole.”

Once again, Jolly doesn't know how his voice doesn't sway, and he's oh-so intrigued by the way the singer's face heats up, even his ears falling prey to the deep blush spreading across his cheeks. His lips part, close, open, close, blinking rapidly.

“Don't let your jaw drop, pretty.” Jolly smirks, taking a slice of pizza to sit beside the very man he'd just reduced to a puddle.

He looked cute like that, Jolly noted, especially when he silently pulled the hoodie over his head.

Fuck he looks good…

Noah gets up, returning mere moments later with a piece of pizza on his plate, sitting close enough to Jolly where their thighs were flush together.

They sat through about half of the comedy movie the Nick's put on without moving, too close, yet not close enough.

Jolly was the type of person that could only sleep in a bed, unless he was dirt tired and exhausted. Noah?

The singer's head bobbed, and with a mere 15 minutes left of the movie, Noah's body slouched. Before Jolly could think to move Noah was leaning into him, cheek pressing against his shoulder, head nudging Jolly's jaw.

Jolly freezes, but slowly, he leans into the touch, right hand rubbing over Noah's thigh, thumb tracing circles through the sweatpants Noah wore.

He's warm…

Noah's body is cuddling closer, sinking into the way Jolly rests his head against Noah's, hand palming his thigh comfortingly. Soft, quiet, gentle.

Adoring

Jolly's eyes flutter, and suddenly, Nicholas is shaking his other shoulder, the one Noah wasn't leaned against.

“Jolls..?” His voice was quiet, and all Jolly could do was hum at first. “Bryan, Davis, and Matt went home, Nick's already asleep, I'm heading up, can you get Noah to bed?”

Jolly nods, blinking his eyes open with a yawn as Nicholas walks away.

Noah still tucked against him.

He shifts, knocking his head gently against Noah's, lips brushing over the crown of the singer's head. “Noah…”

The man in question shifts, lifting his head and grumbling, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn. Noah shifts, shoulders squared as he shakes his head slightly.

“Morning, sweet boy..” Jolly whispers, extracting himself from Noah's side.

Cold…

Noah looks up groggily at him, lips parted and visibly chapped. Jolly slipped away for a moment, returning with a glass of water for Noah. “Drink” He requests, voice raspy and deepened from the sudden nap.

Noah takes the glass without a second thought, downing the whole thing one gulp after another, and Jolly can't help but laugh, selfishly pressing a kiss to the top of Noah's head. “C'mon, you gotta get to bed.”

He plucks the glass from Noah's hands, walking to put it in the sink, noting the shifting movement behind him.

When he turns around, Noah stands there silently, leaning against the wall, eyes wider, brighter, still a little puffy, but looking wide awake.

“Bed.” Was all Jolly said, approaching and slipping past Noah, who followed him without another word. What Jolly didn't expect was for Noah to make his way into Jolly's room, instead of his own. The slight pout on his lips was enough to make the guitarist cave, “C'mon sweet boy, lay down.”

But Noah didn't move, leaning back against the door he just closed.

Slipping out of his pants and t-shirt, and sliding into a pair of sweats was easy, despite Noah's eyes burning holes into the back of his head while he changed.

“Noah?” Jolly asked, gathering his hair into a messy bun. “Earth-to-Noah…?” He whispered, taking a few steps to stand in front of the man in question. “Hey..?”

Still, Noah barely moved, lips parting like he was trying to speak, yet no sound came out.

Fuck it.

Jolly lost his composure about this the moment Noah stepped into his room, with obviously no intention of leaving.

“You gonna be good for me?”

Noah's eyes flicker with something akin to desperation, and he finds himself nodding.

Jolly drifts closer, pressing his body to Noah's and trapping him against the door. “Bed”

The guitarist steps away, and Noah moves immediately, sitting down on the edge, and Jolly can immediately feel the anxiety radiating off him. Deciding to just go for it, Jolly steps forward, getting to his knees between Noah's legs, breath ghosting over Noah's thighs…

“..Jolly…” It was quiet, nervous, but the heat was undeniable.

“You sleep here tonight…” Jolly started, tilting his head to kiss the inside of Noah's thigh, high enough where his cheek brushed the cloth that covered Noah's crotch, and the singer shuddered, something between a whine and a moan escaping him. “...And you won't be leaving until tomorrow afternoon.”

He's rewarded with a helpless twitch of Noah's thigh, and a pretty whimper drawn from the singer's lips.

“You want that?” Jolly murmurs, trailing kisses up Noah's thigh and to his navel, chin ghosting over Noah's crotch.

The twitch of interest his cock gave was almost enough for Jolly, almost.

Noah's voice nearly startled him, “I want you.” but not nearly enough to not have Jolly practically springing to his feet, cupping Noah's cheeks and kissing him like he's been dying to.

“Fuck” Jolly mumbles, licking into Noah’s mouth as he pushes him back onto the bed. “Always so fucking pliant for me…” He groans, one hand tangling itself into Noah's hair, the other toying with the hem of Jolly's sweatshirt that Noah adorned.

Noah gasps into the kiss, and Jolly can see the cogs turning in his head when he pulls away.

“You gonna let me do this?” Jolly manages, sliding the hoodie up just enough to reveal a sliver of Noah's stomach. “Noah?”

The strangled sound that escapes the singer shocks Jolly to the core, not that he wasn't expecting Noah to be desperate, but he wasn't…

“God, Joakim—” Noah chokes around the cry, “— just fuck me already.”

… Jolly wasn't expecting that.

However, in no world did he need to be told twice.

“Off” Jolly demands, forcefully dragging the sweatshirt over Noah's head. He pulls, dragging clothing off in pieces until Noah is completely naked, looking up at him like a deer in headlights.

Only once Jolly wraps a hand around his cock, does his brain kickstart.

“Fuck—” Noah bites out, one hands fisted in the sheets, the other tangling in the roots of Jolly's hair as the guitarist dips down to mouth at his neck. “Jolly— Jolly—” He heaved, tugging, “Joakim…”

Squeezing his hand, Jolly pulls back to watch the way Noah's back arches on a pitiful whine.

“You'll get it, don't worry, Pretty.” Jolly smirked, teeth ghosting over the skin on Noah's neck as he squeezed his hand on the upstroke. He's rewarded with a choked moan, and a tick of Noah's hips that has Jolly using his free hand to hold the pesky singer down. “Stay still.”

Noah groans, tugging a little harder at the roots of Jolly’s hair. “C'mon—” He breathed out, the air hitching when Jolly growled against his throat, teeth pressing against the skin. “—please”

Jolly's hand stills, and he pulls away with a disapproving whine from Noah. “You wanna beg?” His voice is low when he talks, “Beg, but you won't get my cock any faster, Noah.”

A strangled groan sounded from deep in Noah's chest.

Jolly finds he doesn't care as much as he should, especially when he completely detaches from Noah— much to the singer's disappointment. “On your stomach, baby.”

And yet, Noah is rolling, hands trembling as he grasps onto the duvet. “Jolly—”

“Hips up.” Jolly growls, palming Noah's thighs and lifting him to his knees, face still planted against the mattress. “Good boy.”

Noah visibly shudders, and Jolly can't help the smirk that draws onto his face, the sight of Noah spread out on Jolly's bed, ass up, face down, cock hanging hard between Noah's thighs…

Jolly runs his hands over Noah's ass, smirk widening, he couldn't help himself from palming the singer's cheeks, enjoying the way Noah tried to grind back against his hands.

“Noah.” Jolly warned, shifting behind him to reach over and grab the bottle of lube stashed in his bedside table.

“Just fuck me, Joakim.” Noah manages through gasps.

What he wasn't expecting was for Jolly's hand to come down hard on his ass. Noah lurches, his whimper buried into the sheets that he'd tugged between his teeth. Jolly doesn't even say anything, just moves with an intense precision that has Noah's skin crawling.

He tries to grind back, still feeling the heat of Jolly oh-so close, but nothing changes, even as he hears the cap of the lube flip open and shut. Still nothing.

And nothing.

Then the rustle of clothing.

And then nothing.

And then there's a finger pushing against his hole, and all Noah can do is moan when Jolly sinks his middle finger all the way, without a break, no stopping, before pulling it out to the very tip.

“Be good for me.”

That was all the warning Noah was gifted before Jolly's fucking his finger into him, over and over, not quite slow, but not fast, just enough to make Noah feel every. thrust.

“Joakim…” Noah whines, muffled by the blanket.

Jolly groans, pressing a kiss to the small of Noah's back. “‘Love how you say my name, sweet boy.” But Noah could barely focus on the sweet words coming from Jolly's mouth, because it was offset by his index finger sinking in suddenly alongside the other.

Noah's thighs trembled, his forearms flexing, knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the sheets. The chuckle that escaped Jolly had Noah begging again.

“Fuck please—” Noah crumbled, voice cracking as he weakly grinded back against Jolly's hand. “—need… need it—” His voice cuts out when those pesky fingers brush close to that burning pleasure inside him, and his mouth falls open just enough for drool to soak into the bedding.

Suddenly, Jolly was leaning over his back, chest pressed to the heated skin so he could whisper into the singer's ear— as if he wasn't fully aware of how much of a disaster he'd just reduced Noah too.

“Yeah?” Jolly taunts, and all too soon, his ring finger joins the other two, and it has Noah a puddled mess on the bed. “You want me to fuck you? Want me to hold you right here until you're cumming on my cock?”

The stretch of the third finger so suddenly after the second was only minutely uncomfortably, and only for a moment before Jolly stretched his fingers, prodding Noah's walls in a way that made him want to cry.

“Joakim—!” Noah begged, voice shattering.

His orgasm was suddenly oh-so deliciously close. But fuck, he wanted Jolly so bad, so badly that he didn't want to cum yet, despite how desperately he wanted to.

Noah's voice grew, desperate and pathetically aroused.“Please— please…please, please please please—!”

Joakim's fingers curled, the calloused pads rubbing against the singer's prostate that he'd narrowly avoided earlier. “Gonna make you cum on my fingers first, Pretty Boy.”

“Fuck” Noah practically sobbed, face pushed into the blanket as his body shakes, cock twitching with ropes of cum, despite Jolly not having touched him in what felt like forever.

Noah's barely come down from his high— still panting, heaving, hazy with the aftershocks— when Jolly's thumbing his tip into Noah. He seizes, stretching in an attempt to claw at the sheets that just pushes his ass back onto Jolly's cock. “Joakim—” Noah cries out, clenched tight around Jolly that had the guitarist palming Noah's ass in a futile attempt to steady himself.

Jolly's lip is caught between his teeth, both hands on Noah’s hips to keep him still as he sinks into the singer, enveloped in the warmth of his body. “Fuck, so good to me..” Jolly swears, bottoming out fast enough to make Noah dizzy. “Breathe for me… good boy..”

Noah's already half hard again, cock throbbing, head a puzzled mess of pleasure as the tip of Jolly's cock brushes against his prostate, and as much as he wants to say it's too much, that he needs a minute…

A strangled “more” was all he could get out.

And Jolly delivered, drawing back with a pitched moan at the way Noah's walls seemed to keep him trapped, only to follow through. Back to the base in a torturously slow way that had Noah shaking and letting out a whine.

He pulled back again, and the sob left Noah's throat cut off into a pathetic, trembling moan when he fitted himself back in.

“Joakim…” Noah begged, hoarse, rough, desperate to feel anything aside from the staggering overstimulation of his prostate being brushed against with each movement. “Please— want you to—”

Jolly knew what he was going to say, well, he thinks he did, but Noah never got to finish because Jolly was thrusting, hard. The crackling, loud cry that escaped Noah did nothing but fuel his arousal, fucking into him hard and deep and god his thrusts were right against Noah's prostate.

“Joakim—” Noah sobbed, breath hitching when that large, calloused, tattooed hand wrapped around his throat, keeping him from being pushed up the bed.

“Such a good fucking boy for me.” Jolly growled, the other hand grasping both of Noah's, keeping them pinned above Noah's head. “Gonna let me fill you up?”

The shuddering tremble that ran through Noah was intoxicating, intoxicating in a way that had Jolly planting his feet a little firmer, thrusting a little harder at Noah's cries of overstimulation. Noah's body moved with each thrust, bouncing forward only for Jolly to follow, thrusting harder, faster.

He maintains a pace once Noah can't move any further, but the singer's responses were ever changing, body shaking like a leaf on a tree one moment, ass clenching around Jolly's cock oh-so good the next, cries pitching and fading, whining and whimpery that had Jolly pummeling towards his own end. He refused to give in, despite the image…

Fuck me

Noah spread out on his bed, hands trapped in Jolly's grip, fingers tightening around his neck, Noah's cheek was pressed to the mattress, and Jolly could see the spit drooling from Noah's lips, wet patch beside his mouth that trailed towards those hazy, lust-filled brown eyes that were rolling back into his head.

Noah clamped down on him, burying his face into the mattress, despite the drool, despite the discomfort, because he was cumming so suddenly, so hard, and he had to muffle the scream that he couldn't contain.

Jolly heaves, hips rocking hard, and just as Noah's head twisted, preventing him from being in any more discomfort with tears beginning to track down his face, Jolly was cumming too, stretching over Noah's back. His hips ticked, riding out his high with shuddering, gasping breaths into Noah's ear. Vision going fuzzy, blurring in a way that had him all but collapsing over Noah's back for a long moment.

It takes close to a minute before Jolly moves, arms trembling as he lifts himself off of Noah's back and slides out of Noah's hole. He's quiet, but still, the moment he sees the tears that've fallen over Noah's cheeks, he's peppering kisses over the singer's shoulders and wiping the tears away.

He pulls away once Noah nuzzles into the blanket, tears smearing before soaking into the fabric. He slips his sweatpants back on, slipping out of the room and shutting the door behind him, only to return a mere minute later with a damp cloth in his hand.

“You okay, Noah..?” Jolly murmured sitting beside the man in question, who'd let his hips fall and was sprawled out— looking far more adorable than a man his size should. Slowly, carefully, he dragged the cloth over Noah's cheeks, dabbing the tears away first before smoothing it down Noah's thighs and gently wiping away any excess from Noah's hole.

Aside from the trembling limbs, Noah seemed okay, but god…

The look in his eyes was everything, that fucked out, derailed, puddled look on his face had Jolly's cock attempting to harden again.

But he knew Noah couldn't go again, especially not looking like that.

Slowly, Jolly maneuvered Noah, slipping the cum-covered duvet out from underneath him. Thankfully, much like Noah, Jolly had stashes of blankets, from wool to cotton to fleece, weighted to throws to duvets— well, he only had one of those, but the plethora of other ones easily made up for the loss.

“How're you doing, sweet boy..?” Jolly asks again once they manage to both slip under the covers, a fleece one large enough to be a quilt covering them both. Noah doesn't respond right away, instead, inching closer until he could rest his forehead against the guitarist's chest, bodies pressing together with Jolly's chin resting atop his head.

Noah's voice cut through the silence just as Jolly began to sink into the pillows.

"I hate you..."

Honestly, Jolly had to keep himself from breaking out in hysterical laughter, because well.

"Says the one who was practically begging me to fuck you into the mattress a half hour ago"

Silence.

"...Maybe I don't hate you"

"That's what I thought, pretty boy.”

——————————

In the morning, Nicholas desperately wanted to ask which one of them got their shit together first and fucked the other, but not only did they both look like messes at breakfast... Noah absolutely refused to sit, insisting on standing with a plate of eggs and toast in his hands, a perfectly good, unused chair not even five feet away.

Noah's breathes came out in short huffs. His head burrowed deeper and deeper into his pillow, attempting to muffle his whimpers and moans. His hips driving harsher and quicker; eyes squeezed shut from concentration. The sharp exhales of his nose came out quicker. Noah wanted to finish before everyone got back from dinner. Opting to stay back, stating he “doesn't feel too great, going to stick behind.”  

The imagery of you on stage, covered in sweat, flushed cheeks, and messy hair. Backstage Noah stood, zoned into your stage presence. How you carried yourself during ‘talking breaks. Noah switched his memory back to his imagination. Pretending it was you beneath him, praising him to continue, your hand soothing over his head. Each time Noah pictured one of his dirty scenarios, he would feel a bit of guilt. Making his chest tighter and his stomach squirm.  

Noah would shove himself into work, keeping his hands, mind, and body busy. The first plan worked for a few months before he became burnt out and needed a rest. With free time on his hands, nothing to do his thoughts would wander. Enclosing him into driving his hands down his pants. Getting off to the thought of you like a pervert. Any chance you popped into his head, if he was alone, he would start grinding, touching, jerking, his cock until he could finish.  

At times he would go for hours. Your voice is replaying in his head over and over again. The praise and degrading you would do to him. The thoughts of you ordering him around. The things you would make him do for you just to feel good.  

“Keep going, you’re making me feel so good, Noah.” You would purr into his ear. Your breath tickling his skin before you would pull away.  

Once Noah was allowed to work again, it became harder to get back into the rhythm of his plan. Biting his nails anytime you would speak to him or look at his direction, his heart beating faster, hands getting clammier.  

The sound of your voice bringing him closer to his orgasm. Noah would sit before your knees, hands resting on his lap, waiting for your command. Or if you decide to tie him to the bed and use him as you please.  

Noah’s cock fucked into the mattress, rocking as much as he could, clutching the sheets closer to his body. Knuckles turning white from the grip, his head hanging low, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose. Noah would lose control of himself. His mouth became drier as he gasped, and his voice raspier as he begged. Throwing his head back; allowing his cries to be heard, Noah released, leaving a mess inside of his pants. Even with his orgasm, Noah’s mind took ahold of itself. Picturing you standing above him, looking down at him in disapproval.  

“Not only did you finish;” you started, circling around him.  

Your taunting and harshful words would cause more blood to pump into Noah’s cock. Forcing him to hold another erection in his pants. The mess mixing around inside of his pants. The tip red and sensitive from the endless rubbing it’s endured.  

“But you made a mess in your jeans. Dirty and gross.” You would groan in fake annoyance. 

Your fake words would have Noah turned to his back; arms laid out around him. His chest heaved up and down rapidly. Reaching around for his phone, checking the time.  

12:45 a.m. 

“They said they would be back in a few hours. I should have time for another…” Noah reasoned with himself.  

“Shouldn’t pass up the time…” his words flowing out with reason.  

Tossing his phone back to the side, he reaches down, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his cock out. Cum drenched his dick, pre-cum mixed with it, slowly oozing more out of his tip. Red and swollen, Noah grasped his tip, teasing it just as he pictured you would. Circling his fingertip around the hole, dipping in slightly, forcing a hissed sound to come from Noah’s lips.  

“F-fuck...” Noah whimpered out.  

His hands still shaky, Noah grasps the base of his dick. Tightening the hold like he pictured you would, applying more pressure and pain before he forced himself to let go. His cock bounced slightly from the throbbing. Jeans bunched and pulled at the hips; Noah pushed them further down, taking them off completely. Reaching further down, Noah takes ahold of his balls, doing the same as before.  

“Y-Y/N, p-please…please do-UGH- “before he would finish, Noah choked as he started to fondle himself.  

You were at the forefront of his mind, doing everything he imagined you would do to him. Pushing himself further past his limit. Seeing how far he can go before he combusts all over himself with you there.  

Noah started to jerk off as he continued to fondle himself, his grip tightening and loosening as he babbled out meaningless words. His orgasm coming closer and closer. Noah felt this would be a big one, one he hadn’t felt before. Excitement bloomed inside of his chest. His pace quickening once again, feeling himself start to cum, Noah aims it at his chest. Trying not to make more of a mess than he already had.  

Leaving his hands in his hands, his shoulders relaxed against the bed. His panting figure laid in silence as he came down from the feeling. His cock sat limp against his body. Figuring that it would be for the night, Noah took his time changing the sheets and showering. The guilt started to ride up in his chest again. Tossing his thoughts and clothes away,  

“Out of sight…out of mind...” He tried to remind himself. 

A pillow laid beneath your cushions your stomach, but you still feel the bulge of his cock each time he presses himself deeper. Holding his position, his hands grip your hips, the pressure of his fingers easily leaving behind bruises as he remains buried to the hilt and begins grinding his hips.

Noah doesn’t hold back, not even for a second. Desperate whimpers and pitiful grunts spill past his lips and against your ear before he’s burying his face against the side of your neck.

“God, do you feel that?”

It’s rhetorical, but you do. You feel everything in this position. The way his thighs keep yours pressed together makes everything squeeze around him tighter as he moves, your walls clenching with each delicious drag of his cock.

You acknowledge him with a hum, barely audible, mostly for the sake of the microphone that’s been strategically placed to catch all of his sounds.

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?” He rasps. “Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck.”

His breath catches, and he trembles against you, stilling himself as though trying to pull himself back from the edge of something he knows he won’t be able to come back from, but that’s why you’re here, why you offered to take the place of the usual toys he uses, to give him something more authentic.

Peering ahead of you, you catch the faint red light of the camera across the room, set up to provide a paid live feed. In the moment, it was easy to forget that there could be anyone watching, an idea that sends a swirl of heat through your stomach.

Clenching around him, he gasps, his voice breaking into a plea. “Oh, no… wait, please. You can’t do that to me…”

If there’s any way to make out your features on the livestream in the dim light of the room, you’re certain they’d catch your smirk in response—the devilish gleam of someone up to no good.

You do it again, because you can and you will.

You’ve heard these moans a hundred times, had them blaring in your ears on nights when you struggled to sleep or needed something to help take the edge off. You’ve came to them more times than you’d ever admit, but there’s something even more thrilling about being the cause of them.

The feeling crawls up your spine, tickling at the base of your skull and spreading through you as you rock your hips the best you can beneath him, attempting to draw another reaction from him.

“Oh, fuck… just like that… God, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna—” He breaks off into another moan.

This time, you can feel the effect it has on him, the way his body trembles against yours, his fingers gripping you tightly as he attempts to hold on to the last ounce of composure. Eventually, the final thread snaps, and he comes undone completely.

Even then, he doesn’t stop. He continues grinding his hips down against you, eyes rolled back, heavy, breathless sounds spilling from his lips, his voice barely audible.

“I can’t… I can’t stop…” He pants the words, chasing the same sensation he had been moments before, burying his face against the back of your neck as he whines.

・┈・୨୧・┈・

“So… have you had a good time?” Noah asked as you walked hand in hand back to the hotel. You’d be leaving Paris early tomorrow morning, so you two decided to go out for one last fancy dinner, watch the tower sparkle, then make your way back to the hotel. 

“It’s been amazing,” you said, nodding your head, “Thank you, Noah. I really mean it… I’ve needed this.” 

He chuckled, looking down at the ground for a moment before glancing back at you again. 

“What have I told you about thanking me, hm?”

You felt your cheeks suddenly warm, and you gave him a little smile. 

“So…” you said, looking up at the dark night sky, “What’s happening when we get home?”

“What do you mean?” Noah asked. 

You immediately felt shy, which you felt stupid for, since you’ve spent the last four days together. 

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, followed by a shrug, “I guess I’m gonna miss you.”

Noah stopped in his tracks, giving your hand a quick squeeze as you stopped beside him. 

“Baby,” he said with a quiet chuckle, “Just because we’re home doesn't mean we can’t spend time together. You know we live twenty minutes apart, right?”

That earned a reluctant smile from you. 

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

You hesitated for a moment as you wondered that yourself.

The point was that this trip had felt like you were in your own bubble, a perfect little world where neither of you had responsibilities or stress- besides the phone calls Noah had to take every now and then. But it felt like now it was coming to an end, the bubble was inevitably going to pop, and you weren’t sure what was going to happen after it did. 

Noah’s face softened, he had learned to read you over these days, and so he knew right now that you were overthinking. 

“You think this ends when we get home?” 

You didn’t answer that, which answered for you. Noah held his arms open, an invitation for you to step into them. 

“Come here.” He said, and so you did. 

He wrapped his arms around you, the two of you standing in the middle of the street, before pulling back to look you in the eyes. 

“Listen to me.” You did. “When we get home, I’ll still call you.” You smiled, “I’ll still annoy you, I’ll still take you to dinner, I’ll still spend time with you.” 

Your chest felt a little lighter, your heart fluttering at how simply he’d said it, like he didn’t even have to think twice. Then Noah tilted his head slightly as you pulled back.

“And if I remember correctly, you’ve got about fifty shopping bags full of things you need to show off- and I plan on letting you.” 

You chuckled, before taking his hand again as you continued walking back to the hotel. 

“So, what kinda things do you want to do when we’re back home?” Noah asked, and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I thought you were the one who comes up with the plans.” 

“Well maybe I want you to take the lead,” he smirked, “C’mon, is there anywhere you wanna visit? Bars or restaurants you want to try? A concert you want to go to?”

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about it. Because there was something… 

“Actually…” You said, earning a grin from him. 

“What is it?”

“There’s a band I've always wanted to see, and they’re playing in our city in a few weeks.”

“Who?” He asked, and you looked up to meet his eyes. 

“Bring Me The Horizon.” 

Noah casually nodded his head, like you’d told him you wanted to go to the grocery store or something. 

“I can get us in.” 

You laughed. 

“No you can’t, all the tickets sold out in like 10 minutes. And I am not letting you give your money to scalpers for overpriced resale tickets.” 

“Oh, I won’t need to, baby.” He said smugly, making you stop in your tracks. 

“So how exactly do you plan on getting us in?” 

Noah just shrugged. 

“Oli owes me a favour.” 

“Oli… Oliver Sykes?” You scoffed, and it was clear Noah was trying not to laugh. 

“Yes.” 

You stared at him, like you were trying to figure out whether to believe him or not. 

“...You know Oli Sykes?”

Noah laughed. 

“Of course I do. My band opened for them a couple years ago. Y'know, I even sung Antivist on stage with him a few times.” 

You shook your head in disbelief. 

“How have you never told me this?”

“You never asked!” 

“Because I didn’t know I needed to ask!” You scoffed in disbelief.

Noah laughed again, and you were still staring up at him, trying to process all this information. You knew his band must’ve been doing well for him to have the money he has, but you didn’t quite realise who Noah was… 

“So you’re telling me… you’re friends with Oli?”

“We’ve worked together and we get along… I don’t know if he’d count me as a friend.” Noah chuckled, suddenly seeming a little shy.

“But you have his number right?” You asked, and Noah nodded his head. “Oh my god, text him!” 

“I can’t text him.” Noah laughed. 

“Please?”

“No.” 

“Pretty please?”

“No,” he chuckled, “He’s probably spending time with his kids or in rehearsals or something.”

You pouted. 

“Just one text? Just check in on him…?”

“I am not texting Oli at nearly midnight because the pretty girl I took to Paris told me to.” 

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head in defeat. 

“Baby,” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand, “I’ll make sure you get to see them, okay?”

“You will?” You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Of course I will.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. And the excitement on your face must’ve been obvious because when he pulled away, his smile softened. “You got something to look forward to now, huh?”

You nodded as you wrapped your arms around Noah’s neck slowly, pulling him down into a kiss. 

“You better get us a good view.” You whispered against his lips, and he smiled.

“Only the best for you, sweetheart.”

… 

The trip home was too simple, too easy, you were waiting the entire time for something bad to happen- you flight to be delayed, bags to be lost- but no. It went perfectly. 

You slept most of the flight back, your head on Noah’s shoulder, his arm around you as he read his book. You didn’t have to wait too long to collect your luggage either, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of a car, on your way back to your apartment. 

However, this was where it would all change. 

Noah, as usual, refused to let you carry anything. You stepped out of the car and he was already lifting suitcases and grabbing bags. He had parked his car at your place before leaving, so he took his things first, throwing them into the back, before picking your bags back up and making his way up to your apartment. 

“How are you not struggling?” You laughed as he juggled everything. 

“I don’t lift weights for nothing, y'know.” He smirked as you dug through one of your bags for your keys. 

You unlocked the door, and the moment you pushed it open… Noah frowned. You were too busy shrugging off and hanging up your jacket to notice, but the further he walked in…

“Does it usually smell damp in here?” Noah asked, his brows slightly furrowed. 

Immediately, your stomach dropped. Because now he said it, you could smell it too- a stale, damp smell lingering in the air. Like the time your washing machine broke and started leaking while you were at work. 

“No… it shouldn’t.” You said quietly, suddenly panicked. 

Carefully, Noah set your bags down by the wall. 

“Stay there a second.” He said, before walking further into your apartment. 

The living room looked fine, but as he walked into the kitchen, his heart stopped. He called your name, and you followed him down the hallway, the smell getting stronger with each step. 

“What is it?” You asked, but when you spotted him, he was staring up at the ceiling in silence. 

Your heart started racing. The ceiling was stained brown, the paint bubbling in some spots, and in the corner by the wall it was slightly sagging. There were water marks running down the wall, water soaking the counters- 

“What the fuck…” You said in disbelief, taking a step forward. 

“Careful.” Noah reached out, catching your arm. 

Then you looked down. The floor was soaked. 

This had happened here once before, but not to this extreme. Your upstairs neighbour has had quite a few plumbing problems in the time you’ve been here. Thankfully last time you caught it in time before it could get any worse, but you remembered they were currently on vacation in Spain, and you had been gone for four days. There had been nobody to catch it this time. 

“Is that your bathroom?” Noah asked, nodding towards the door. 

“Yeah.” You said as you followed him towards it… 

It was even worse than you could’ve imagined. Paint was peeling, part of the ceiling had bowed downwards, water dripping onto the closed toilet lid. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling cold and stressed and overwhelmed. This was your safe space, your little apartment, the place you’d been looking forward to returning to after your trip. But it didn’t feel like yours like this. 

“Should we check the bedroom?” Noah asked carefully. 

You didn’t want to. You wanted to leave that door shut and pretend it couldn’t possibly be any worse… but you knew it was going to be bad. So you followed him again, and slowly pushed the door open. 

“Oh...” You said quietly, your heart sinking.

This room was the worst. Part of the ceiling above one side of your bed had collapsed, plaster and insulation all over your floor and bed. The wall closest to the bathroom was soaked, wallpaper peeling away from the wall, and your bedside table was ruined. The lamp sitting on it was tilted awkwardly beneath the fallen debris. 

What the hell had happened upstairs to cause this?

You just stood there, staring at it. Trying to process it. It was like all the excitement of Paris, the shopping, the laughter, the dinners, the joy you had felt, it had all been left on the other side of the ocean. 

Noah took a careful step closer, and after a moment, you felt his hand slide into yours. Your fingers wrapped around his, and then you looked down at them… then back up at him. Your vision started to blur, not because of your home, but because everything had been so perfect… it seemed the universe always hated you having nice things. 

“We'll sort this.” Noah said, his voice calm and firm, the tone he used all weekend whenever your mind started to run away with itself.

“But-”

Noah shook his head, cutting you off. 

“Call your landlord.” He said, and you nodded your head, “I’ll get some photos of it for you.” 

You nodded your head, swallowing hard as you reached into your pocket for your phone. 

“Then you come home with me.” 

Your head shot up.

“Noah, you've just spent all weekend with me!” You laughed in disbelief. 

But his expression didn’t change. 

“And…?”

You folded your arms, staring at him. 

“I dunno. You’ve probably had enough of me.” 

Yeah, that earned you a look. One that told you he’d found what you said ridiculous. 

“So where else are you gonna stay?” He asked, folding his own arms. 

“...I’ll figure something out. I’ll stay with Tom.” 

“Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, remembering what he had told you last week. 

“...Or I would. If his sister wasn’t there.”

Noah let out a chuckle as you dropped your head into your hands. He reached out, sliding an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. 

“Grab some more clothes or whatever you need, I’ll get some photos of the damage to send to your landlord.” He pulled back to look at your face, “Then I’m taking you home. No arguments.” 

You let out a long sigh. You didn’t want him to feel obliged, like he had to take you in out of guilt or politeness. But a part of you knew it wasn’t that way. He just wanted to make sure you’re okay, to look after you and make things easier. 

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop worrying about being a burden.” He said quietly as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “I want you to come home with me.”

"Okay." You said finally, earning a smile from him.

…

You spent the next hour frantically packing and waiting for your landlord to pick up the phone. Noah took photos of everything for you- the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, the ceilings and the water damage creeping down the walls. Every time you thought he’d finished, he’d find something else that needed documenting.

Your landlord sounded horrified when he finally picked up. Apparently your upstairs neighbour had been impossible to contact for the last few days, and there had been concerns about a leak for a while now, after several complaints were made about a damp smell coming from their floor. But nobody had realised quite how bad it was. 

By the time the call ended, you were told someone would be coming out tomorrow to inspect it, insurance would be involved, and nobody could tell you how long repairs would take. Days, weeks, possibly even longer. You didn’t really hear much after that, you just knew you couldn’t stay here. So you packed some more. 

You packed things that were valuable, things that felt important. You were sure you’d be given the chance to come back and get the rest, but even Noah was telling you to take as much as you could today. He told you he had the room to store things for you if you needed. 

Though every time you added something to your bag, a voice in the back of your mind kept whispering the same thing.

You’re imposing. You’re going to outstay your welcome. You’re going to become a burden. He’s just too kind to say it to your face. 

Noah seemed to sense every single one of those thoughts without you saying a word, because when he found you standing in your bedroom staring blankly at a pile of clothes, he took the bag from your hands and started folding things himself. When you’d tried to carry your own bags back downstairs, he’d taken them too. When you’d apologised for the fifth time, he just looked at you… and that was enough to stop you mid apology. 

Now, thirty minutes later, you were pulling into Noah’s driveway. You were still blown away every time you looked at his house, it was so nice, the garden was so tidy, it was all just so perfect- and this was just the outside. 

“You okay?” Noah asked as he parked the car. 

“Mhm.” You hummed, before getting out. 

This time you insisted on helping him bring things in, since he didn’t only have your things in the car but his own too. So you grabbed his suitcase and poked your tongue out as if to say you can’t stop me and dragged it up the path. 

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with the homely scent of laundry detergent and whatever fancy air freshener he had plugged into the wall. You let out a long sigh as you set his bag down, because despite already going back to your place, you finally felt like you were at home. 

However, Noah wasn’t wasting any time. He carefully passed you, and headed up the stairs, carrying all the bags so easily. 

“Show off.” You chuckled under your breath. 

“I heard that.” He laughed from upstairs. 

A smile crept up on your face, and you followed him up the stairs… he had stopped just outside one of the rooms, set your bags down, and turned to look at you with a smile. 

“Right…” 

You immediately became suspicious.

“What?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Important question, would you rather stay in the guest room…” He gestured towards the door at the end of the hallway, “…or stay in here with me?”

The question caught you off guard, you didn't realise you were going to have to choose. You looked away for a moment, towards the bags, towards the floor- anywhere but him. Because the answer was embarrassingly obvious. 

You didn’t really want the guest room. Not after Paris. Not after falling asleep wrapped up in his arms. Not after waking up to sleepy kisses and coffee and his hand reaching for yours before either of you were fully awake.

The idea of sleeping alone suddenly felt strangely disappointing, and lonely… but at the same time, you didn’t want to feel like you were taking over his place suddenly. 

When you finally looked back at him, Noah’s expression softened, and he could tell what you were thinking through your hesitation.

“Why don’t we at least put your things in the guest room,” he said as he reached for your bags again, “So you’ve got your own space if you need it.” 

The words made your chest ache and feel soft both at the same time, god he was so considerate. He wasn’t pushing you one way or another, he was giving you the option, giving you a space that felt like yours, somewhere you could shut the door and sit by yourself and just breathe if you needed to. 

He pushed the door open and set the bags down by the bottom of the bed. 

“Feel free to unpack, take over the wardrobe and drawers, make it feel like home- you can even redecorate the place if you want.” He chuckled. 

“I’m not redecorating your guest room.” You smiled, “It’s lovely.” 

The room wasn’t huge, but it felt cozy. There was a big bed with fresh white sheets, a rather big dresser, and a window that overlooked the garden. It felt more like a hotel room than a spare bedroom- of course it did, everything Noah owned was unnecessarily nice. 

Noah brought the last of your bags up as you looked around, and despite yourself, you started feeling a little bit better. Sure, it wasn’t home, but you felt comfortable here already. 

“There,” Noah said as he set the last couple bags down, “And if you decide later that you want to crawl into bed with me… I won’t complain.” Noah smirked. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Who said I want to spend another night with you?” You teased. 

“Hey, you were the one who didn’t want to come home from Paris because you’d miss me too much.”

“I never said that!” 

“Mm, you implied it, baby.” He said, his grin only widening. 

But then, before you could continue the argument, he reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder, the teasing fading a little.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, y’know.” He said, his voice a little softer. “Go unpack, take a shower- use the one in my room if you want, it’s less claustrophobic- and just make yourself at home, okay?” 

You nodded your head. 

“And what are you doing?”

“I’ll be downstairs, either in the studio or the kitchen. Just come find me when you’re done… if you want. Or take a nap, I noticed you were yawning in the car. Do whatever you want, okay baby?” He said with a kiss to your forehead before turning around and softly shutting the door behind him, leaving you standing alone in the guest room.

For a moment, you just stood there, letting the day sink in. Only this morning you were waking up in his arms in Paris, and although you didn’t really want to come home, you didn’t consider that you may not even have your own home to come back to. 

So you unpacked a few things until you found the bag of toiletries you took to Paris, then you grabbed a clean pair of pyjamas and stepped out of the room. Then your eyes drifted down the hallway, towards his bedroom. 

He told you to use his shower, though it felt a little weird… either way, curiosity for the better of you, and you pushed the door open. 

Immediately, you noticed his room felt very Noah. Not because it was particularly extravagant, but actually the opposite. It was clean and tidy without feeling sterile, comfortable without feeling messy. There were black curtains and dark wood furniture, a large bed with navy sheets that looked almost too inviting. In the corner of the room there was a bookshelf filled with books and little figures that you guessed were from a TV show he liked. 

A guitar rested against one wall, and on his dresser there were a couple framed photographs of what you guessed were him and his friends… except when you looked closer at the picture, you realised one of the guys in it had his face, but his hair was almost at his waist. Was that Noah? 

You just took in the room around you, and suddenly you were thinking about how this was the room he’d slept in every night while you were at home. The room he’d disappeared into after stressful days. The room he’d probably spent countless hours lying awake in, overthinking the same way you did.

For some reason, that thought made your heart feel strangely warm.

Then your attention drifted toward his bathroom.

Oh wow…

The shower alone was probably bigger than your entire bathroom at home. You shook your head and laughed quietly to yourself before stepping inside. 

You shut the door behind you, and started to undress. Then you turned the water on and waited a moment for it to warm up, and when you finally stood under it, it felt incredible. 

You definitely stayed in there longer than you meant to, letting the water wash away the unexpected stress of the day. For a little while, you managed not to think about any of it, you just stood there, feeling the hot water wash over you, letting out a long sigh. 

When you finally stepped out, you felt a lot better. You dried your hair, dried yourself and pulled on your tank top and sleep shorts, then glanced at yourself in the mirror. 

You could get used to this… 

Then you took a breath, put your things back in the guest room, and headed downstairs. The house was quiet, and you weren’t sure where to find Noah… but you could hear music coming quietly from somewhere. 

You followed the sound until you reached an open door near the back of the house. This must’ve been the studio. You knocked gently, then you heard him call out, come in. 

You pushed it open, and Noah was sitting at a large desk surrounded by screens, speakers, notebooks and so much equipment that you didn’t even know what half of it was or what it did. As you shut the door behind you, he looked over at you, and a smile crept up on his lips. 

“Hi, baby.”

Fuck, the way he’s been speaking to you lately had been making you feel a little weak in the knees. 

“What are you working on?” You asked as you stepped closer to him. 

“I’ve been trying to get the pitch right on a certain part, I got an idea for it yesterday that I wanted to try, so I told myself I’d try it out as soon as I got back… but it’s still not working.”

You gave a sympathetic smile, and then you noticed his eyes slowly travelling over you, taking you in. 

“Feeling better?” He asked. 

“A little.” You nodded. 

“Good.” Then he held one arm out toward you. “Come here.”

You smiled.

“What?”

“Come here.”

You closed the space, and before you could even ask what he wanted, Noah gently caught your hand and guided you toward him. Then patted his thigh, and your cheeks suddenly warmed. 

“You have chairs.” You pointed out. 

“I know.” 

You tried not to smile, but completely failed. You didn’t even attempt to argue, because quite frankly his lap looked rather inviting. So you carefully settled onto his lap, your legs either side of him, and you felt Noah wrap an arm around your waist. You moved about slightly until you were comfortable, then buried your face in his neck, breathing him in.

Noah and you both let out a content little sound.

“There.” He said quietly, his chin resting gently on the top of your shoulder, one hand holding you tightly, the other navigating whatever project was open on his screen. 

Neither of you said much for a while, you just sat there, letting your eyes fall shut, feeling more at peace than ever before, listening to the music softly playing through the studio speakers, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your chest. After everything that had happened today, this was just what you needed.

Eventually though, Noah glanced at you.

“Comfortable?”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“Mhm.” You hummed, not even bothering to open your eyes. 

A small smile appeared on his face.

“Good.”

And as his arm tightened around your waist, you realised you hadn’t thought about your apartment in at least ten minutes. Which, considering the day you’d had, was probably Noah’s goal all along.

Every now and then, he’d reach for the mouse, or his hand would leave you so he could type something on the keyboard- but other than that, he barely moved. It felt so comfortable, so safe, so nice.

But after a while, your mouth started feeling a little dry. You remembered you’d barely drank anything all day, so you softly wriggled a little and lifted your head from his shoulder. 

“Noah?”

“Mm?”

“Can I get a drink?”

You were more than prepared to get up yourself, expecting him to point you towards the kitchen and tell you where the glasses were, maybe explain where he kept things. But instead, he lifted his brows and gently moved you from his lap to the sofa beside him. 

“‘Course, what do you want, baby?”

A smile tugged at your lips, because of course he wouldn’t let you get up to get it yourself. You were starting to learn these things about him. 

“Just water, please.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes. 

He nodded his head, then leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Good girl,” he said, casually and quietly, “Such good manners.”

The words had left his mouth so easily that for a moment you weren’t entirely sure you had heard him right… especially since Noah seemed so oblivious to what he had just done, to the effect his words had on you as he disappeared off into the kitchen. 

Meanwhile you were left there in the studio, your brain unable to function properly. It wasn’t even that nobody had ever complimented you before, that was a total lie, but this just felt different. The approval in his voice almost made your head spin, you felt all warm and fuzzy inside in a way you couldn’t quite explain. But there was one thing you knew for certain. 

You liked it. A lot. 

A few minutes later, Noah returned carrying a glass of water, and the moment he walked back into the room, he noticed the look on your face.

“You alright there?” He smirked. 

You blinked.

“Hm?”

“Exactly.” A laugh escaped him as he handed you the glass. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

You quickly took the water, ignoring his comment. 

“Thank you.”

“And there they are again.”

You looked up.

“What?”

“Your manners.” A grin spread across his face. “I like them.”

Your cheeks immediately felt warmer, and you swallowed hard before saying,

“Most people have manners.” 

“True.” He settled back into his chair. “But yours are particularly cute.”

You nearly choked on your water, and Noah’s eyes widened as he spun his chair around to face you. 

“Hey.” He immediately reached over to pat your back. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly.

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” You said, popping the p, trying to act casual.

The concern slowly faded from his face, and to make things even worse, it was replaced by amusement. 

“You’re acting weird.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

You deliberately focused on taking another sip of water, and Noah just watched you for a moment… then he slowly narrowed his eyes.

“Oh…”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

A smirk started forming on his lips. 

“What?” You repeated, but his smile only widened.

“You’ve gone shy.” 

“I’ve not.”

“You have.”

“Noah-”

“Baby.” The grin was fully there now. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so flustered?”

You didn’t answer that, but you didn’t need to. You knew he already knew. 

“Wanna be a good girl and tell me why you’re blushing?”

“I’m-” You went to speak but immediately stumbled on your words, making you feel even more shy, and making his grin even more smug. 

Oh yeah. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

…

At some point later in the evening, you’d ended up back in Noah’s lap again. Neither of you said anything about it, you’d just gotten cold and didn’t want to go upstairs to grab a hoodie. 

You quickly learned that Noah liked to keep his house at a temperature that felt so low it should be a health hazard, and after shivering through half an hour on the sofa, you’d eventually climbed back onto his lap with a quiet complaint about freezing to death.

His response had been to laugh and wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer, so now you were curled up against him again while he worked, listening to the soft click of his mouse and the occasional tap of his keyboard.

It was comfortable- he was comfortable, so much that you felt yourself relax in his arms. So comfortable that a yawn escaped you… 

Followed shortly by another, which made Noah glance at you with a small smile. 

“Tired?”

You shook your head.

“Nuh-uh.”

Noah chuckled, knowing that was clearly a lie, and went back to working. But ten minutes later another yawn escaped, a longer one this time. Noah looked at you again, at some point his hand had slid up your top, and his thumb rubbed back and forth against your skin. 

“You wanna go to bed, baby?” He asked. 

The question was casual and gentle, like he was asking you whether you wanted another glass of water… but you didn’t think of it like that. Your stomach sank, because your brain always worked against you, and it was now telling you this was his way of telling you he wanted his space. You’ve been practically attached to him all evening, this was just him being polite. 

However, the logical part of you knew that was ridiculous, Noah had been nothing but kind to you all day. But it was easier to believe you’d overstayed your welcome than believe somebody genuinely wanted you around all the time…

“Yeah, probably.” You said, followed by another yawn. 

He smiled softly.

“Okay.” He said, but then returned his attention to the screen.

Which told you this wasn’t a big deal to him, he was thinking about it half as much as you were. You’d somehow convinced yourself he’d finally had enough of holding you in his lap all day like a clingy little koala, when all he was doing was waiting for whatever he was working on to save before shutting down his computer. 

But still, you carefully climbed off his lap, and you immediately felt how cold the room really was again.

“Night.” You said softly.

Noah looked up.

“Night?”

You nodded before picking up your water, leaving the room, and heading upstairs. 

You were trying not to feel disappointed, not to feel silly, because you had your own room here- a lovely, comfortable, cozy room- which if it wasn’t for him you could’ve been spending the night on Tom’s couch. 

So there was absolutely no reason for your chest to ache as you walked in, no reason for you to miss him while you brushed your teeth, no reason to stare at the empty side of the bed after climbing in. 

And yet, you did. 

With a sigh, you rolled onto your side and pulled the covers up to your chin. You’d spent pretty much every waking moment together for the last few days, of course he’d want some time to himself. 

For a while you laid there in the silence, staring at the wall, until you heard footsteps on the stairs. You couldn’t help but listen, he must’ve wandered into his room and- stop listening, you told yourself.

You buried your face into the pillow, trying not to think about any of it. Trying not to think about the way you’ve gotten so used to falling asleep with your head on his chest, his arm around you, the sound of his heart beating beneath your ear. 

It had gone quiet again for a while, you assumed he must’ve just gone to bed. You assumed he’d be asleep within ten minutes because you had both been up for quite a while now. 

But then you heard footsteps again. Then there was a gentle knock on your door. 

“Are you still awake?”

“...Maybe?”

“Can I come in.”

“Yeah.” 

The handle turned, and there stood Noah- fresh from the shower, dark hair still damp, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a black tshirt that fit like it was made just for him. For a moment, he just looked at you lying there in bed, then the corner of his mouth lifted. 

“I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.” 

Your tummy did a stupid flip at that. 

“What?”

“It’s fine if you want your own bed, baby.” He said, his voice as gentle and easy as ever, “But you do know mine’s comfier, right?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Noah nodded, “Wanna test it for yourself if you don’t believe me?”

You couldn’t help but scoff. Of course he’d find a way to make you feel better in less than thirty seconds. 

But then your smile slightly faded, and you looked down at the bed again. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, sensing the shift. 

“I thought you wanted some space. I’ve been clung to you all evening.” You admitted quietly, and for a moment Noah was silent. Until he let out a soft sigh. 

“Baby,” he said, making you look up at him again, “If I want space, I’ll tell you, okay? I promise. You don’t ever have to assume, or guess what I’m thinking.” 

It was your turn to sigh now, because the truth was, you spent so much of your life trying to anticipate what people wanted from you before they had to ask. Having to guess what people were feeling, trying to read body language and trying to sense what they were thinking through their tone of voice. 

Noah seemed to understand that without you ever having to explain it.

“Look at me.” 

You met his eyes again. 

“What did I actually say when we were in the studio?”

“You asked if I wanted to go to bed.” 

“Right. And did I say I wanted you to leave? Did I say you were being too much?”

“...No.” 

“Then don’t put words in my mouth, baby. If something is ever a problem, I will tell you.” He said with a soft smile, before holding his hand out to you. “Come on.” 

You looked at his hand, then at him. Then you sat up. 

“You really want me in your bed?”

Noah laughed.

“Sweetheart.” The way he said it made your stomach flutter. “I wouldn’t be in here trying to persuade you if I didn’t.”

You couldn’t really argue with that.

A smile tugged at your lips as you took his hand, and the moment your fingers slipped into his, he gently helped you out of bed. His thumb brushed across your knuckles once before he started leading you towards the door, then down the hallway to his bedroom. 

As he pushed the door open and led you in, you were a little taken back by how cozy it suddenly felt. The curtains were closed, the lamp by the side of his bed made the room glow golden and the smell of his shower gel lingered from the bathroom. 

Noah got into bed first, and pulled the covers back for you, patting the mattress. You chuckled and got in too, and right away you realised he’d been right. The mattress was like a cloud, and the pillows were even nicer than the ones in the hotel in Paris. It put your bed to shame, that was for sure. 

Noah opened an arm, and you rolled towards him, tucking yourself into his chest. Noah made a little pleased sound before wrapping both his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. 

“And I thought I was being the clingy one.” You teased softly, and Noah chuckled. 

“Mm, no.” He said, pressing another kiss on your forehead this time and holding you tighter. 

Then your temple, then your cheek. You tilted your head up, looking at him with sleepy eyes as you let out a little giggle. 

“Noah!” 

“What?”

“You’re proving my point.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said with a small smirk before kissing you again, before finally stopping, and just holding you there like that. “Wanna watch a movie or something? Or d’ya wanna just go to sleep? It’s been a long day.” 

You hummed in thought, just listening to the sound of his heartbeat for a moment before looking up at him again with wide, almost frightened eyes.

“Shit... I forgot I’ve got work tomorrow.” 

“Oh yeah?”

You groaned and buried your face back into his chest. 

“You know, you can always-”

“No. I’m not quitting my job, Noah. It’d drive me insane.” 

You felt his chest vibrate as he let out a quiet laugh. But then he was quiet for a moment, his fingers gently running through your hair. 

“Want me to take you?”

You looked up at him again. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I know.” 

“You’ll have to get up early.” 

“I know. And I don’t care. What time do you need to get there?”

“...Eight.” 

“And what time do you need picking up after?”

“Noah, you don’t have to-” 

“What time, baby?”

You sighed. 

“We shut at six tomorrow.” 

Noah nodded his head, then kissed your forehead again. 

“Okay.” 

“...Are you sure that’s okay.” 

Noah let out a sigh, then before you knew it, he was taking your face in both his hands. He wasn’t rough, but he was firm, making sure you couldn’t immediately look away. 

“Sweetheart…” His thumbs brushed softly across your cheeks.

“What?”

“What were we talking about five minutes ago?”

You groaned, trying to look away, but he stopped you.

“No,” he said softly, “What did I say?”

“You said if something was a problem then you’d tell me.” 

“Good girl.” He said simply, a smile tugging on his lips, completely oblivious to the way those two little words make your head spin. 

Or maybe he did realise?

He leaned forward just a little, his nose bumping yours, his lips just brushing yours without kissing you. 

“Are you done worrying for tonight?”

You smiled against his lips despite yourself, and gently nodded your head. 

“Yes sir.” You whispered teasingly. 

You felt Noah smile back, before pressing a slow kiss to your lips. Then he pulled back, and pulled the covers a little higher over the both of you before reaching over to turn the lamp off. 

You made yourself comfy on his chest, and he held you close, letting out a soft sigh of relief as his free hand rested behind his head. 

“Goodnight, Noah.” You whispered as you let your eyes finally shut. 

“Sweet dreams, princess.” 

・┈・୨୧・┈・

i desperately need you guys's opinions on something real quick, i feel like i've been soft launching a dom/sub relationship for these two and i want to know if that's something you want to see in this story or not 🤭 i'd love to write it, but it's not something you're interested in then i won't! i know the majority will say yes, but i'm literally velvet!reader i need reassurance that this is a good idea lmao 😭

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