what could've been

Nick chuckled softly. “I’ve seen you do a lot of stupid things, Noah. I’m not here to judge.” 

Nick’s voice held a practiced, precise balance between tenderness and concern. Noah had heard it many times over the years—Nick’s had always been the voice of reason, pulling him back down to earth when his head got stuck in the clouds (which happened a lot in Noah’s case). It was both comforting and, at times, intimidating—especially when it contained sharp truths that Noah wasn’t ready to hear. He suspected he was in store for some of those. 

“I may have…,” he trailed off, searching his brain for a combination of words he could accept. “…become attached…to someone.” 

He opened his eyes to note Nick’s reaction, but there was none. His face was neutral. Stoic. Kind, even. 

“Do you want to tell me who?” 

Noah shook his head. Nick tucked his teeth between his lips—a gentle sign that let Noah know he disagreed with the choice, but wasn’t going to press the matter. 

“Okay... So why is this an issue?” Nick shrugged.

Noah bit his lip, eyes flicking out his window when Nick’s sincerity became too much for him. He swallowed thickly. 

“I don’t think I’m good for her.” 

Nick’s eyebrows pinched together and Noah couldn’t handle the sympathy. It felt too much like pity. He chewed the inside of his cheek to distract himself. 

“Why would you think that?” 

Noah’s heart pounded inside his chest as he fought the urge to bail from the conversation. Three minutes in, and it was already bringing up repressed emotions Noah had no desire to feel. 

He breathed deep through his nose to steady himself, digging the heels of his palms into his thighs. How was he supposed to describe the situation? He wasn’t even sure why he felt the way he did, he just had a gut instinct. 

“So she’s like, religious or whatever,” he began. 

“Hold on,” Nick held up a hand to pause, his demeanor still unbothered. “Is this the pastor’s daughter Folio was talking about?” he asked, and Noah’s heart jumped into his throat. “Not a judgment, just a question,” he followed up. 

Noah hadn’t realized just how tense he’d become and forced his shoulders to relax. Though Nick was the least judgmental person he knew, he still couldn’t help but feel like he was on trial. 

Noah nodded reluctantly. “How much did he tell you?” 

“Not much,” Nick said with a shrug. “Just that you guys had a bet going.” 

Noah scowled. “I never agreed to be part of that.” 

Nick, calm as ever, simply blinked back. “I didn’t think you would.” His eyes scanned over Noah’s frame, likely noticing how on-edge his friend was. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Noah puffed out a breath, wrapping his arms around his knees to quell the tension in his diaphragm. He didn’t know why he was so nervous to talk about this—Ruffilo clearly cared about him and had never, ever judged him. Perhaps Noah judged himself so harshly that he couldn’t imagine anyone else not. 

“No,” he said, words finally flowing from him like a pressure release valve had been flipped. 

“I’m not okay. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop thinking about this girl, but I feel like I’m so fucked up and I just know I’m gonna end up hurting her somehow. And I think she likes me too, which makes it that much harder to stay away.” 

He pressed his palms into his eyes to equalize the pressure that had built up behind them. 

“I’m a fucking mess,” he continued fidgeting with a rip in his jeans. “I don’t have my shit together at all , and eventually she’s going to see how pathetic I am and leave me for someone better.” 

“Whoa,” said Nick, face remaining neutral, but voice taking a more assertive tone. “Hold on. You’re making a lot of wild assumptions here.” 

“Am I though? She’s a virgin and I can’t go a week without sticking my dick in someone.” 

Nick brought his finger up to his chin, eyes glazing over as he thought. “That does seem like an obstacle. Does she know this about you?” 

Noah paused his fidgeting. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I think she sort-of knows? But I don’t think she realizes how bad it is.”

“Is bad the right word?” Nick asked. Noah leaned his head back, tapping the crown of it against the wall several times over. 

“You’re missing the point.” 

“I don’t think I am,” said Nick, folding his arms in front of him. “I think you’re catastrophizing because you’re scared.” 

“Dude!” said Noah, throwing his hands in the air. “Can you not?!” 

Nick snickered into his hand, knowing he had finally gotten to the bottom of what had been eating at Noah. 

“Sorry, yes,” said Nick, struggling to keep his face straight. “You are alone in your problems. Nobody has ever dealt with anything like this before and you suffer uniquely .” 

Noah huffed, dropping his arms.. “Thank you. Finally someone gets it.” 

Nick smiled at his friend, then gave him a look that brought the conversation back to a serious note. “Do you really think you’re incapable of change?”

Noah sucked on his teeth. “I think that’s what I’m scared of.” 

Nick rocked forward on his chair, balancing it on its two hind legs. “Are you willing to try?” 

Noah rubbed his hand up and down his calf, “I don’t know.” 

The chair Nick was on slammed back down on all four legs, creating a thud that echoed through the room. “I don’t know what to tell you man,” Nick said, standing up and stretching. “You either want the girl or you don’t.” 

“Thanks,” Noah said flatly. “That really helps.” 

Nick sat down beside Noah on the bed, pressing his shoulder into Noah’s.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You have a lot of great qualities. There’s a reason she’s drawn to you. Personally, I’m really happy to call you my friend. And if it worries you that much, you can always try being honest with her about your concerns.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Noah said, trying to diffuse the sincerity with humor. He’d always had a difficult time accepting genuine affection, and Nick had a habit of giving it when it was most needed. 

“You might find,” he continued, “that she, like the rest of us, accepts you for who you are. Warts and all.” 

“It’s a lot of warts,” Noah said. 

Nick nodded in agreement. “It is a lot of warts.” 

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Noah cracked a smile. The pressure of Nick’s arm against his was comforting and he wanted to lean into it more, but he didn’t. He wasn’t ready to admit just how needy he was for affection. 

There was a time in Noah’s childhood where he’d expressed his needs. The need for reassurance. The need for affection. The need for love and kindness. Somewhere along the way though, he’d learned that his needs were a burden to his caregivers. Any time he asked, he was met with irritability and annoyance, and it wasn’t long before Noah received the message that his parents would only accept him if he didn’t ask for anything. 

He cut off the part of him that needed. The part that yearned. That part of him only brought about pain and rejection, so he treated it with disgust until it learned to never show its ugly face. Noah prided himself in his ability to be self-sufficient. And no, he never did end up earning the love he had wanted from his parents, but at least he didn’t get rejected by them as much. 

Now that he was older, he was starting to realize that being self-sufficient wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He knew he had to soften, and he would…one day. It was just that right then, he had so much he was already struggling with. Adding another task on top of the pile was overwhelming. 

So he settled for begrudgingly allowing his needs to be met whenever his friends insisted. 

“Thanks, man,” he muttered, not enjoying the way it felt coming out, but knowing it needed to be said. 

“Anytime,” his friend said, nudging his elbow deeper into Noah. “I’m here if you need to talk.” 

Nick waited a beat before continuing. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you should go for it. It sounds like she’s good for you.” 

Noah didn’t respond, but knew Nick would never say anything he didn’t mean. Perhaps he couldn’t trust himself just yet, but he could trust Nick, and that was a start. 

_______

“Can I ask your opinion on something?” Noah whispered in your ear. He’d snuck up behind you and you just about jumped out of your skin.  “Don’t scare me like that,” you said, turning.. His face hovered just over yours, close enough you could almost count his eyelashes,  and you had to take a deep breath to keep from flushing. Noah hissed a laugh through his teeth, backing away to a more respectable distance. 

It was Saturday morning once again. The first snow had just fallen, and the three of you were freezing your asses off outside. The two men had finished shoveling the walkways, and were now pouring salt along the sidewalks. Nick was about six meters away, scooping salt out of the massive bucket resting on the steps leading up to the church.

“My bad,” said Noah, fighting back his laughter. 

“What did you want to ask?” 

“What’s your take on lust?” he said, looking over to make sure Nick couldn’t hear. 

You blinked up at him. Noah wasn’t bringing this topic up just for the fun of it. He had an agenda, you suspected. The angel on your shoulder screamed to walk away, but the devil on the other whispered for you to take the bait. 

You swallowed hard and chose the secret third option—stall. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” you said, breath coming out in a cloud of steam. Your nose had started to run. 

“Like, do you think it’s a sin?” he asked, leaning his weight on the handle of the shovel he still hadn’t put away. 

“Well, yeah,” you said. “You’re objectifying someone.” 

“How much of the sidewalk do they want us to do?” Nick called. He was almost to the end of the main walkway, but still had yet to touch the sidewalks in front of the church. 

“I think the whole thing,” you said, pointing to the sidewalks on either side. 

Nick scoffed. “So we’re supposed to spend the entire morning out here? I’m fucking freezing !” he said, wrapping his arms around himself for effect. 

“Do you need to borrow a jacket?” you asked. “We have some in the donation bins.” 

Nick’s face twisted into something sour. “No thanks.” 

You chuckled. “Then I can’t help you. Get back to work.” 

He groaned, throwing his head back and stomping off like a petulant child to spread his salt bucket farther down the sidewalk. 

“Absolute baby,” you muttered under your breath. It was the truth, but you had a soft spot in your heart for Nick’s antics. It made the day go by faster. 

“Even if they don’t know?” Noah asked, once Nick was out of earshot. 

“Know what?” you said, turning to face him. You noticed his ears poking out from under his hat. It was stupidly charming, especially now that the red of his earlobes matched the end of his nose, the membranes chilled by the cold. 

“That they’re being objectified?” His lisp was more prominent on the last word. He was making it difficult for you to ignore the crush you’d been unsuccessful in getting over—whether or not he knew. 

“I don’t know,” you said, placing your hands on your hips impatiently. “I’m not an expert. Shouldn’t you be working?” Up until that point, the conversation had played out like a game of tug-of-war, with both of you having an even grasp over its control, but you could feel your feet slipping. 

“My bad,” said Noah, leaning his shovel against the building and taking out a large scoop of salt. He sprinkled it over the sidewalk for the next ten yards and then immediately circled back to you. 

“So do you ever catch yourself lusting?” 

“Noah,” you scolded, rolling your eyes. “Why are you asking all these questions?” 

“Sorry, it’s just,” he said, sliding his foot back and forth in a large arc. His shoe glided over the salt on the sidewalk in front of him, producing a crunching, scraping sound. He sighed before sheepishly looking at you. “Full disclosure? I find myself lusting a lot.” 

“What a surprise,” you said flatly. He tilted his head and sucked on his teeth, unamused with your interjection. 

“And,” he continued, stressing the word the way a teacher would when interrupted. “I always thought it was harmless because the person I was lusting after wouldn’t find out, so victimless crime, right?” 

You raised an eyebrow. 

“I had a feeling you would say that,” he said, and you laughed. 

“Okay, well, if I may…who are you lusting after?” you asked. As soon as the question left your mouth, your chest tightened, not wanting to know the answer. If he said any other woman’s name, you’d lose it. 

“Not important,” he said. He suppressed a smile and you immediately knew he’d seen right through you. It wasn’t the affirmation from him you hoped you’d hear, but that was a long shot anyway. At least he hadn’t said someone else. 

You didn’t like the idea of him potentially talking to you about his troubles with women. You held out hope he could be hinting about his thoughts of you, given his actions on Halloween. The idea of him wanting you in that way was intoxicating. But you also knew he had a track record of being promiscuous, so really, it was anyone’s guess. 

“I think it’s probably not a good idea to be objectifying people like that,” you answered. “It could lead to treating them disrespectfully.” 

You said it, but you weren’t sure you meant it. A selfish part of you didn’t want to discourage him from thinking of you like that. 

“What if I could find a way to do both?” he asked. “Objectify and respect?” You found yourself struggling to look directly at him. 

You shrugged. “I’m not an expert. We both know I have a complicated relationship with sexuality, so I don’t even know if my opinion counts.”

“I think it counts,” he said. This time, you did chance a look over at him. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, shoulders raised to his ears as he looked at you. 

You wrinkled your nose, touched by his candor, but still unsure how you should respond. 

“If you feel like you can do both and it doesn’t feel wrong, then I’m not going to try to stop you,” you said. 

Noah pursed his lips. “That’s a very diplomatic answer.” 

“Can we go inside, please?” Nick whined, walking back up to the two of you. He’d salted about half the sidewalk. He bounced on his heels in a display of impatience. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “But find something productive to do. I think the displays need dusting.” 

Nick all but bounded up the walkway in glee, stopping to deliver a cold kiss on your cheek before he rushed inside. You stepped back startled at the sudden intrusion into your personal space. 

“Dude!” Noah scolded while you processed what had just happened. 

“Suck it, Noah!” Nick called back without looking, and you burst out laughing. You liked being able to witness little glimpses into their friendship dynamic. Nick was such an antagonist, but Noah always had a sharp tongue with a witty retort on the end of it. 

“Sorry about him,” said Noah. 

“Don’t be. I liked it,” you teased, twisting your body back and forth like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

Noah reared his head back, looking you up and down with a furrowed brow. “Whore,” he spat, and stalked off dramatically to grab more salt. 

Your laughter grew in intensity, now becoming a full-body affair. You shook your head at his sass, deciding to head into the church to make sure Nick was actually working. 

Noah didn’t talk to you for the rest of the session.  _________

Pausing his game, Noah looked at the clock. It was nearing ten. 

On any given Saturday night, he was usually either at a party at Jolly’s or at a bar. Rarely did he spend his Saturdays alone, but that night was different. The knowledge that he could be getting laid at the moment wasn’t lost on him. It gnawed at him incessantly, refusing to let him forget. 

He wished he could. There were much better things he could be doing with his time, like trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, for one. Or working on his music. Or self-improvement of any kind, but his body had needs, and they demanded his focus. 

Perhaps his dick anticipated being inside someone. Perhaps he’d Pavloved his body into expecting pussy at least once per week, always around the same time. He sighed, awareness being dragged down to his lap.

For the hundredth time, his thoughts drifted to you. You’d probably just gotten back from worship band practice and were getting ready to turn in early so you could be up for church tomorrow. 

He rolled his eyes at the thought of it, once again struck by just how different your lives were. God, could he even imagine himself being with you? Would you expect him to go to church as well? 

His nose wrinkled on his own accord, eyes landing on the silver ring he’d fished it out of the bucket in the supply closet the other week when you weren’t looking. It now sat next to his keyboard, taunting him. 

A purity ring. God , the concept was horrific. Why anyone would promise such nonsense was beyond him. Not to mention the fact that they basically forced it on you at such a young age. It made him sick. 

He was proud of you for not wanting to wear it anymore. It warmed his heart to see you freeing yourself from that burden. 

His stomach churned with guilt. He knew it was wrong for him to have it without you knowing, but in his defense, you’d asked him to take it before tossing it away. Had he known you were that serious about ridding yourself of it, he probably would have taken it when you offered. 

He had to admit, there was also something kind of hot about him having your purity ring. He felt like he’d taken a small piece of that precious virgin identity.  

His eyes drifted over to the phone sitting beside the ring. Your number was in there. He hadn’t used it yet, but he could if he wanted. 

Taking his phone in his hand, he unlocked it, pulling up your contact and opening a new message. You were right there on the other end of it. 

He shouldn’t. Talking to you right now was a bad idea, and he knew it. His whole goal was to be better for you. Not to further corrupt you. And there was no way he had the strength to behave himself if he spoke to you at this hour. Not when his body tingled with want and anticipation. 

No, staying away from you was the much better option. If he really wanted to talk to you, it could wait until morning. He’d rub one out and go to bed and wake up feeling like a better man. One who had actually resisted the temptations of the flesh, for once in his life. 

He sighed and locked his phone again.

He thought back to the conversation he’d had with you that morning. He knew it was a dangerous topic to bring up. He’d had ulterior motives from the get-go. But you’d answered all his questions with grace—not once giving into him the way so many would have. They way he knew he would have given in had it been reversed. 

If you’d been the one to bring up the topic of lust, he’d have found a way to bring the topic to the two of you fucking within minutes. He’d have slithered the idea of sex into that conversation immediately and found some way or another to get you thinking about it. 

If he did message you this late, you’d probably just turn him down anyway. Hell, you were probably already asleep. And if you did answer, you’d probably just have a casual, civil conversation with him. Or you’d want to talk religion again, which he was actually starting to like. 

Still, it was a bad idea. He was too needy. Maybe he should just watch some porn or something. He hadn’t done that in a while. 

Sighing, he opened his browser and typed the URLof his go-to site. Immediately, he was met with lewd stills. He tried to look, but it was all so gratuitous and intentionally overstimulating. There was no build up. Nothing left to imagination. Just explicit images of women bent over while men fucked them raw. And none of it sounded like anything he was remotely interested in. At least not at the moment. 

Swallowing back the acid that had crept into the back of his mouth, he closed the window, staring down at his boxers with pity. 

“I’m sorry, dude,” he muttered to his lap. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.” 

__________

Your heart squeezed, knowing what was about to happen. Inosuke held Daki’s head in triumph, having just beheaded the demon when something squelched, and Gyutaro’s curved blade pierced through the middle of his chest. Blood spurted out of the boar’s mask on his head, and Tanjiro cried out in anguish for his friend. 

You’d watched this episode a half-dozen times, and it still never ceased to tug at you. 

An ache was beginning to form in your lower back from sitting in the same position on your bed for too long. Grabbing a pillow, you flopped onto your belly and propped your elbows over it. 

You looked over at Stevie’s clock she’d hung above her bed. It was just after ten. You knew you’d have to get to bed soon or else you’d be exhausted for church tomorrow. But perhaps you could fit in one more episode before then…

Your phone pinged. Picking it up, your screen displayed a text from the last person you expected. 

Noah 10:08 PM : Okay, so I have more thoughts. 

You smiled to yourself. Noah was indeed persistent when he wanted answers. You quickly typed out a reply. 

You 10:08 PM : Go on…

Noah 10:09 PM : I agree that objectifying someone without their permission is bad. 

You 10:10 PM : Correct. 

Noah 10:10 PM : What if I had their permission? 

You snorted, diving into the pillow. The man just wouldn’t quit. 

You 10:12 PM : Are you alluding to porn? Because I don’t think that’s something God would be cool with. 

Noah 10:12 PM : No, not porn. I’m talking about getting someone’s permission. 

Noah: 10:12 PM : It would have to be above-board in that case, wouldn’t it? 

You 10:13 PM : I suppose…

If he was about to tell you he was going to ask for some other girl’s permission, you would chuck your phone at the wall. He didn’t, however. 

Noah 10:14 PM : What are you up to? 

You 10:15 PM : Watching Demon Slayer. You? 

Noah 10:15 PM : Fallout. Where are you? 

You 10:16 PM : In my dorm. Why? 

Noah 10:17 PM : What are you wearing? 

You laughed, finally seeing through his scheme. And honestly, you found it both sweet and endearing. So much so that you were tempted to give it to him. 

You snapped a picture of the oversized, threadbare racecar shirt you were wearing. You’d had it since you were a kid. You couldn’t remember how you got it, but it’s been in your possession since you could remember. By that point, it had collected an impressive set of stains and rips, but the years of wear and tear had softened it into the most comfortable shirt you owned. 

You hit send. 

You 10:21 PM : Sexy, right? 

Noah 10:21 PM : Nice shirt. 

Noah 10:22 PM : Almost as good as mine. 

The next message contained an image of him in a black shirt with the Lord of the Rings logo on it. He wore big, round glasses and his hair hung down messily over his shoulders. The photo was purposefully unflattering, with him looking down at the camera and distorting the shape of his lower face.  

You laughed again, the sound coming out loudly through your nose and you were glad your roommate was still visiting her parents and couldn’t hear you. 

You 10:23 PM: Hot. 

Noah 10:24 PM : Ikr? 

You 10:24 PM : Never been more turned on in my life. 

Sending that last text felt edgy. Exciting, even. Like you let slip a little bit of truth wrapped in the sarcasm, and you wondered if he could pick up on it. 

Noah 10:24 PM : Is that so? 

Got him. You swallowed thickly, wanting to lean into the flirtation without making your feelings too obvious. 

You 10:25 PM : What can I say? I have a thing for men with multiple chins. 

You watched as three dots appeared, then disappeared, and then reappeared several times before he finally replied. 

Noah 10:27 PM : Video chat? 

Your heart leapt into your throat, stomach buzzing with nerves. This wasn’t just taking things a step forward, but a whole leap—one with any number of potential outcomes and the unknown both scared and enticed you. 

Was this dangerous? Perhaps. But perhaps there was part of you that was ready for some danger, having played it far too safe for the last two decades…

You 10:28 PM : Sure. 

You steadied your breath while you waited for him to call you, drumming your fingers on your nightstand. What would you say? Would it be awkward? What if he tried to get you to do something you were uncomfortable with? Would he…

Your thoughts were cut off by the buzzing on your phone. You sat up, straightening your hair in the reflection of your phone screen before answering. 

It was a few seconds before Noah appeared on the screen. He sat at a desk, a blank wall behind him. On the left, you could see the head of his bed with a neon backlight. A candle flickered on a nightstand next to it. He wore his long hair pulled back in a bun—a few strands falling pleasingly in front of his face. 

“Hey,” he said, his too-big front teeth on display in charming smile and you immediately relaxed into the conversation, feeling a smile creeping onto your own face. 

“Hey.” 

“Sorry for interrupting your anime,” he said, voice coming out low, gravelly, and slightly muffled. “I was getting sick of gaming.” His lisp was even more prominent through the speakers on your phone, which served to further disarm you.

“No, it’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “I’ve already seen all the episodes.” 

“Is Demon Slayer any good?” His voice echoed in his empty room. 

“One of my favorites,” you said. 

“Nice. I’ll have to check it out.” 

There was a lull in conversation you weren’t sure how to fill, and suddenly you felt self-conscious, fiddling with the hem of your shirt to give your hands something to do. Noah continued to stare at you, rocking side-to-side in his desk chair. 

“Is your roommate home?” he asked. 

“No, she goes home on the weekends.” 

“Nice,” he said. “Do you guys get along?” 

You nodded. “For the most part. She’s double-majoring though, so she’s usually in class or at the library. I don’t actually see her much.” 

“Does that get lonely?” 

“Not really,” you said, playing absentmindedly with a strand of your hair. “I kind of like all the alone time.” 

It was true. As much as you enjoyed Stevie as a person, you rarely saw her. She was even more focused on school than you, and that was saying something. 

Without thinking, you brought the strand of hair to your mouth, sucking on the ends. 

“I get that,” he said, smile growing softer. “I like my alone time.” 

“Do you get much of it, living with two other guys?” 

“If I go to the studio,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Nobody bothers me there. Though they usually don’t bother me if I’m in my room, either.” 

“What’s it like living with Nick?” you asked. 

Noah rolled his eyes. “Loud,” he said. “The man can turn anything into a drum set.” 

“Have I met your other roommate?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he said, fiddling with something on his desk. You met him at the party for like a minute. Ruffilo. He has long hair.” 

“ Everybody had long hair,” you said. He let out a soft laugh. 

“True. He’s the one that plays bass. Green eyes.” 

“Oh yeah,” you said, vague memory coming back slowly. “It’s a Saturday night. Why aren’t you out?” 

Noah shrugged. “I’m getting bored with the party scene to be honest. What about you? Don’t you have some sort of youth group function to attend?” 

“Actually, there was an event tonight,” you said. “I didn’t feel like going.” 

“You heathen ,” he said, the corner of his lip quirking up into a devious smirk. He said it as a compliment, and your stomach buzzed pleasantly at the praise. 

You curled your toes into your sheets while Noah took an opportunity to observe you. 

“That hair taste good?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.. 

“What? Oh!” you said, laughing softly to yourself. You’d been chewing on your hair the whole time without realizing. You dropped the strand; sure you’d probably given yourself some split ends. 

“I like you like this,” he said. It was the most genuine compliment he’d paid you, and your insides melted into pools of liquid organs. 

“Like what?” 

“Cozy. Natural. I like your bedhead.” 

You blushed, avoiding eye contact and choosing to stare at your bedspread until you processed the compliment. “Thanks.” 

Noah let out a low humming sound meant to fill silence, which you found extremely attractive. 

“So what do you got going on tonight?” you asked. You propped your phone up against a water bottle on your night stand and shifted so you were sitting cross-legged in front of the camera. Noah’s eyes ran over your legs before drifting back up to meet yours. 

“You’re looking at it,” he said, stretching his arms up over his head and exposing a sliver of stomach. You allowed yourself to stare, taking notice of the ink that decorated it, much like the rest of his body.  

“You have tattoos on your stomach too,” you observed. 

He dropped his arms and sighed into a bashful smile. “Yeah.” 

“Is there anywhere you don’t have tattoos?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Where?” 

He looked down at his lap and then back up to you, smile devolving into a smirk. He topped it off with a wink. 

“Oh!” you said, head jerking back and hand coming up to cover your mouth when you finally pieced together what he meant. “I didn’t mean—Oh,” you said when you noticed his teasing smile.  “Just kidding,” he said, and you huffed at his idea of a joke. “I have tattoos on my dick too.” 

“What?!” 

He hissed out laugh. “You walked into that one.” 

“You’re such a jerk,” you said, looking away from the screen and biting your tongue until the blush seeped out of your cheeks. Kidding or not, he was deliberately bringing up his genitals and you were half-scandalized and half-aroused. 

“Come on, it was just a joke.” He said, rolling his eyes. Not that you noticed because you were still avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have tattoos on my dick.” 

“Well that’s a relief,” you said, finally looking back at him and letting your hand drop back into your lap. “It’d be excessive if you did.” 

Noah was certainly in a teasing mood. You liked it, but in the back of your mind, a nagging thought tugged at you and whispered of danger . 

“It is pierced though.” 

“Noah!” You sat there, mouth agape while Noah’s held his composure. You blinked at him a few times, before shaking your head. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.” 

“You sure?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “It’s quite impressive.” 

You held up a hand in refusal. “I’m good, thanks.” 

Noah grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered he was making you. 

“Wanna see it?” he asked. 

“What? No!” you said, feeling your neck grow warm. You half-hid your face in your hands, as if at any moment, it would show itself. You weren’t ready to see that much of him. You liked that he was talking about it, and you liked the flirtation, but that was too much too soon. 

“Liar,” he said. 

“It sounds like you want me to want to see it,” you said, calling his persistence to attention. He needed to be batted away, you could tell. 

He paused, not knowing what to say and then grinned, resuming his swaying. 

“In my defense,” he said. “Any guy would want that.” 

“Not any guy,” you replied. “Not all guys like women.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.” 

The conversation dissolved into the two of you grinning at each other, both enjoying each other’s company without needing to fill it with words. 

“You don’t actually have it pierced, do you?” you asked, finally, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“No,” he said, looking down sheepishly. “I used to, but it got infected and I had to take it out.” 

“Are you serious?” You asked in disbelief. He nodded. “How did it get infected?” 

“Because I was a disgusting teenager who didn’t clean his shit,” he said with a laugh.  

You frowned. “Gross.” 

“You’re telling me!” his hand came up to scrub over his face, and you were struck by just how long and beautiful his fingers were. 

The thought of them inside you flashed in your mind before you could catch it and your breathing picked up. You tried to squash the thought from taking over but ended up failing and the image morphed to him wrapping his long fingers around your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the picture. It wouldn’t be productive to think of him that way. Plus, you’d just talked about how objectification wasn’t morally right. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” you said, a little too quickly and defensively. He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. 

“It was my dick, wasn’t it?” He said it flatly, as if he’d already caught you in the act. 

“Was not,” you said, though he was on the right track. 

“That’s so rude, lusting after me without my permission,” he teased. Sure, he was feigning offense, but his voice was just a bit lower now. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you know that’s a sin?” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up,” you threatened, reaching for your phone.

“Wait!” he rushed. “Don’t go.” 

You lingered, waiting to see what he would come up with to convince you to stay. 

“I was just kidding,” he said. “Besides, you already have my permission.” 

“I don’t…,” you began, about to deny having pictured him like that, but thought better of it. Noah would have seen right through you. “When did you give me permission?” you asked. You thought you would have remembered a conversation like that. 

He rolled his head down to look at you from under his eyebrows, unamused. “It was implied.” 

“At what point was it implied?” you asked, brows crinkling together.

Noah rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically to emphasize his exasperation. “You know, you’re really going to have to learn how to pick up on subtle hints one of these days and stop making everyone spell it out for you.” 

“Or you could just be direct with what you mean.” You’d meant it as an off-hand remark, but when you looked at Noah, you realized it’d hit home with him. 

He opened his mouth, starting to say something but then shut it again, pursing his lips and humming. 

“Nobody’s ever asked me to do that.” 

“To be direct?” you said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. You found it hard to believe. 

“Yeah,” he said. You searched his face to see if there was any hint as to what he was thinking. You found none. 

“So does everyone else just? What?” you said. “Try to read your mind?” 

“Honestly? Yeah, kind of. More or less,” he said with a shrug, and you had to scoot back on your bed to process. Did people truly pay that much attention to him? Hyperfocusing on his body language and trying to infer what he was thinking and feeling? 

“Doesn’t that get confusing?” you asked. “I feel like it could lead to a lot of mixed signals.” 

He tilted his head from side to side, stretching his neck and you heard the crackling sound emanating from the joints. The deep crunch sent shivers down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his shoulders and dropping them a couple times to shake out any tension. Finally, he stilled and looked back at the camera, placing an elbow on his desk and resting his chin in his palm. “But it’s scary to be direct with what you want, don’t you think?” 

“I suppose,” you said, thinking back to your interactions with Isaac and Noah. You hadn’t been direct with either of them, so you could understand where he was coming from. It was intimidating. 

But something told you that if you wanted to get anywhere, you had to start asking for what you wanted. And demanding the same of others. 

You asked him first. 

“What do you want, Noah?” 

His eyes flicked down to his desk, then back up to you. He held eye contact, brows narrowing, breathing deeply in and out and sucking on the inside of his cheek while he considered the question. Finally he sighed. 

“Are you sure you want the truth?” he asked, voice taking on a new, unfamiliar tone—one that rumbled in his chest and hinted at what was to come. 

“Go ahead.” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Right now, what I really want is to know if you’ve thought about me.” 

You inhaled a shuddering breath, core pulsing around nothing and skin flushing. 

You had asked the question, but you weren’t ready for him to be that direct. You’d expected him to do what he normally did and beat around the bush, hiding his true intentions behind humor and teasing. You didn’t think he’d actually put it out there in the open.  

“In what context?” you asked, just to be sure. And maybe also to bide some time.

His eyes, which had been resting lower on the screen, flicked up to the camera. “Don’t play coy. You know what context.” His voice was low and commanding, impatient with your feeble attempts to avoid answering. 

“Right,” you said, nodding. You swallowed thickly. Noah had laid down his armor, showing unexpected vulnerability like you had asked. It was your turn. 

“So do you?” he asked, brow raised. 

You waited a few moments, stomach twisting uncomfortably while you gathered the courage to answer. 

“Yes.” 

“How often?” he asked, eyes growing darker. 

You kept your breathing even as you answered. “A few times.” 

More than a few. You’d been imagining him in various scenarios since your conversation on the altar steps all those weeks ago. His hands holding you down by your wrists or wrapped around your throat. His long fingers in your mouth. In other places….

“Did you touch yourself?” he asked. 

You blinked, cheeks heating in both shame and desire. This was a big thing to ask you to admit, but deep down, a long-buried part of you wanted him to know. You were ready for him to know. 

“Yes.” 

“How?” he asked, never once breaking eye contact. His questions came at you rapidly, like he was trying to throw you off balance. 

You shook your head, recognizing you’d reached a limit. “That’s private,” you said, and he nodded, sucking air through his teeth while he figured out which angle to approach from next. 

“What do you want?” he asked. 

Good question. “I haven’t figured that out yet,” you said, unmoving. 

You were determined to continue the conversation, but it took all your focus to not shy away or lose your composure. Your heart beat rapidly, threatening to pound out of your chest. 

You knew you were ready to let go of some of this religious guilt that has been holding you back. You were ready to start exploring your sexuality, and you wanted it to be with Noah, but there was that tiny part in the back of your head that whispered what if. 

What if the church was right? What if I’m being led into temptation? What if I go to Hell? 

“Do you want me?” 

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thoughts.  

“Yes.” You answered firmly, and you had a feeling Noah already knew. 

He tapped his fingers against his chin, pointer finger coming to rub at a dry flake of skin on his lower lip. Your eyes followed the movement, and he caught it. 

“You’re asking what I want?” he clarified. 

“Yes,” you said. 

He licked his lips, letting his teeth drag against the bottom one as he released it slowly. Squaring his shoulders, he exhaled heavily through his nostrils. 

“I want you to touch yourself.” 

Your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

“What? Like now?” you asked. The words came out choked, your throat dry. 

He nodded. “And I want you to think of me while you do it.” 

You paused, warmth pooling between your legs. You pressed your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure. His eyes flicked down to them, and you noticed just how exposed you suddenly felt. 

“One sec,” you said and heaved yourself off your bed and repositioned yourself at your desk, mirroring Noah’s posture. He frowned briefly when he realized he could no longer see all of you. 

“What do you think about” he asked again, “when you think about me?”

You were delving into new territory. You’d never confessed anything like this to anyone before, and the thought of opening up like this both thrilled and terrified you. But you couldn’t deny the affect his questions had on you.  

“Your fingers,” you said. 

The finger that had been rubbing at his lower lip paused. His eyes dropped down to it, and then back to the screen. His finger resumed, and you knew he was doing it on purpose. 

“Where?” he asked. His eyes were darker, voice gruffer. He held an intensity you’d only seen once back at his studio, right before he’d tried to kiss you. 

“In my mouth,” you said. Truthfully, you wanted his fingers in many places. In you. On you. Around you, but the sight of his index finger running across his lower lip captivated you and all you wanted was to wrap your lips around it. 

It might have been subconscious, the way his tongue briefly flicked over the pad of his finger. Then again, he may have been teasing you on purpose. He replaced his index finger with his thumb, dragging his lower lip down so you could see the bottom row of his teeth and you had to swallow the excess saliva that had pooled on your tongue. 

“If I was there, you’d have them wherever you wanted,” he said, and flames erupted between your thighs. An itch that demanded to be scratched. Tension that pleaded to be soothed. Without meaning to, your hand traveled below your desk to apply pressure to the throbbing area. 

“Are you doing it?” he asked, pulling at the skin of his lower lip. 

You didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. 

“Yeah.” 

The thumb that had been tugging at his lower lip released. His lip sprang back into place as his eyes widened. “Can I see?” 

You shook your head. “Not yet.” 

“Why not?” he asked. He stared at the screen, mouth slightly open and teeth pressing into the corner of his bottom lip. You desperately wanted to taste him. 

“It’s private,” you said, and he pouted, bobbing his head up and down in a sign of begrudging understanding. 

“I suppose I’ll allow that.” 

“Oh you’ll allow it?” you said, eyebrows lifting. You liked that he acted entitled to you. Something about it made it just a little bit harder for you to breathe, but he couldn’t know that. His ego would run away with the knowledge. 

“I’ll allow it,” he repeated low, devilish grin on his face, and oh you liked that. As much as you pretended to be annoyed, you needed him to possess you. 

You noticed his shoulder shifting on the screen. “Are you?”

He nodded. “For a while now,” he answered. 

“Since when?” 

“How long has this call been going on?” he asked. “About that long.” 

You barked out a laugh, amused but not surprised, considering how much he’d talked about his dick already. You watched his shoulder moving, imagining what was going on just below the end of your screen. 

“Have you ever thought of me while touching yourself?” you asked. 

“What do you think?” He said it as if the question itself had been an insult to his libido. 

Your insides rolled and swelled with pride. The hunger for him evolved into something more ravenous, and you pressed harder into yourself with your fingers, stroking yourself over the soft cotton of your shorts. A small whimper left you and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. 

“What do you think about?” you asked. 

“Hmmm,” he sighed, and you thought it was probably the most attractive sound you’d ever heard. You wanted to pull that sound out of him again. “Should I tell you? Would it be too much for your virgin ears?” 

You waited for him to be done teasing. When he realized you weren’t going to react, he relented. 

“Ever since you mentioned you thought about being tied up, I’ve been thinking about that.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, fingers picking up pace to match the shifting of his shoulder. You wanted him to tie you up. You wanted him to want to tie you up. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. His words came out differently. Not his normal voice, but something breathier and more needy. “I’d tie you down so you couldn’t move. Force your legs apart and bury my face in your pussy.” 

Shit. You gasped softly, cheeks burning under his gaze. The friction over the clothes wasn’t enough anymore and you had to dip your hands under your waistband, closing your eyes and melting into the sensation. 

“Are you picturing it,” he asked. 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“Good. Imagine it’s me touching you.” 

You did exactly that, pulling your lip between your teeth and biting hard on it to give yourself something to fixate on. You could feel Noah’s eyes boring into you through the screen and you couldn’t look at him, too ashamed of your own desires. 

Noah didn’t allow that for long though. 

“Open your eyes,” he commanded. “Look at me while you fuck yourself.” 

Jesus. Your cheeks seared with the vulgarity of his commands, but you did your best to hold eye contact. His eyes were dark, irises blown wide with lust and jaw set hard in determination. 

His right shoulder tensed and shook with vigor and you’d have given anything to see what was happening under the desk.  

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, finally giving in and massaging your aching breasts with the hand that wasn’t currently inside you. 

This, you allowed Noah to witness. 

“Thinking about those tits in my mouth,” he said, voice low and gravelly. 

Your chest heated with the thought of it, breath coming out in pants. “Wish you could do that right now.” 

“There’s a lot I wish I could do right now.” The words were strained. Whiny. Needy, even and you needed to hear him make those sounds again. 

“Tell me,” you whimpered. “Please?” Your back arched off the chair and your eyes closed on their own accord. 

“Not unless you keep looking at me.” Your eyes snapped open. He stared at you intently, almost angrily in his efforts. “Keep those fucking eyes on me,” he ordered through gritted teeth. 

Hearing Noah speak to you like that was a new experience. He’d never taken that tone with you before and you couldn’t deny what it did to you. You grew wetter around your fingers, pace growing sloppy. 

“Need to see your tits.” 

You whined, wanting him to continue dictating his fantasies, but Noah wouldn’t budge. 

Slowly, you lifted your shirt high enough to uncover your breasts, tucking the hem between your teeth to keep it in place, but you kept your hand over your nipples to block his view. 

“Move the hand,” he commanded through gritted teeth. The veins in his neck began to pop. 

“Not until you tell me more,” you mumbled past the fabric.

Noah worked his jaw muscle while he stared down at your bare breasts, left shoulder tensed with how hard he was working himself. 

“Well right now, you’re cocky, so I wish I could wrap my hands around that throat until you drop the attitude.”

You flushed even more at his admission, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you. You bit harder into the hem of your shirt, smiling past the fabric. “Fat chance.” 

He inhaled deeply through his nose, a muscle in his temple throbbing. You liked this—making him angry. Testing his patience. You wanted to see how he’d react if you pushed him more. 

“Watch your mouth,” he said. 

“Or what?” 

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I had a feeling you were a brat.” You grinned, feeling seen. “Talk all you want, but you won’t be so cocky when I have you in person.” 

God , you wanted that. You wanted him there, in person. On top of you. Inside you. You wanted his mouth on yours, all tongue and teeth and desire. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, I know so.” His voice came out more strained than ever. 

“Yeah? What would you do?” 

“Smack your ass, for one.” 

“Oh?” You taunted. “Daddy gonna give me a spanking?” 

Noah’s movements faltered and you worried you pushed him too far in your teasing. He looked at you, mouth opening and closing a few times, and you were about to apologize. Then he resumed his movements at nearly double his previous pace. 

“You can’t just say shit like that,” he said, breaking character into something much more genuinely Noah . The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed from beneath his desk. 

“What’d I do?” you asked, hand speeding up to match his movements.

“You know what you did.” 

Your mouth fell open. Your shirt fell, bunching over your collarbone. “Daddy? That’s what does it for you?” 

“That,” he said, “among other things. Uncover your nipples.”  

You did as you were told, allowing your breasts to fall naturally. You rocked your hips into your hands and Noah watched your tits bounce with the movement, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. 

“Are you serious?” you said. 

“Don’t kink shame me.” 

You curled your lip into a smirk, a deep need to test his patience again settling over you. 

“Why not… Daddy? Something wrong, Daddy? ” you teased, softening your voice and pitching it up to feign innocence. “Please tell me. I wanna be a good girl for you.” 

You could see a vein popping in Noah’s forehead. His face had grown an angry shade of red. “I know you’re trying to be a bitch right now,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “but this is actually working. Keep going.”

You pouted. “Well now I don’t wanna.” 

Another lie. You did want to, but you didn’t want to give in to him. 

Noah sighed and then chuckled. “I really fuckin’ hate you sometimes, do you know that?” 

You laughed, warmth spreading through your belly. Somehow his vitriol sent you further towards your end. “Good.” 

He made a gruff noise and grinned like the devil. 

You were about to respond, but your body chose that moment to betray you and instead offered up a whimper. 

“Noah, I think I’m close.” 

He groaned. “Can you hold out a little longer? I’m almost there.” 

“Hurry,” you whined, screwing your eyes shut tight. 

“Oh no,” he growled. “You look at me when you come.” 

Forcefully, you wrenched your eyes open, staring at him in want. He looked at you like a man starved, as if he could devour your entire body in one go. 

Your fingers squelched loudly inside you, and you were sure Noah could hear, but he continued to look at you, unblinking as he watched your face heat up with impending climax. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he muttered. You keened, rubbing fast circles into your clit with one hand and pumping your others inside yourself, picturing him touching you. Thinking about just how deep inside you he could get with those long, beautiful fingers. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed, brows pinching together and jaw set tight. “Ready?” 

You nodded, feeling your body hurling towards its climax. 

“Come,” he commanded. 

Your entire body tensed, tightened, and then pulsed, releasing waves of vibrations radiating out from your center. You let out a pathetic whimper, fighting against every fiber in your being to not close your eyes. 

Noah’s mouth dropped open. His body spasmed, pitching forward against his desk, vein in his temple throbbing and nostrils flaring. He let out a breathy whine and gritted his teeth, sucking air in through them. 

“Fuck!” he spat, body tense and rigid. And then he collapsed backward into the chair.  

Noah laid there, panting on the other side of the screen, mouth open, staring at you. He finally broke eye contact to drop his head back and close his eyes while he waited to catch his breath. His lips pressed together and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed the excess saliva that had collected in his mouth. 

“Good job,” he muttered to the air above him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, still coming down from your own high. And you meant it. That was the first time you’d reached orgasm without being overcome or interrupted by guilt. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

You felt no guilt now. Only gratitude. It fell from your lips in a stream of thankyous, and when you finally took your eyes off the camera, tears began to leak out. Not in the way they had done in the past, when you were overcome with anxiety and shame. 

These were tears of joy. You’d managed to show up for your body, and it was grateful to you.

After several moments of basking in afterglow, you looked back over to the screen. Noah was in a catatonic state. His chest rose and fell with his breaths, but his eyes remained closed and he kept silent. 

“How you doing over there?” you asked and he brought a finger up to his mouth to shush you. 

“Give me a second.” 

You smiled, pulling your shirt back down over your chest and shaking out the cramp in your hand. You took your phone back in your hands, unscrewing the cap to the water bottle it had been propped up against and drank deeply. 

“Should I leave you to it, then?” you asked. 

“Thank you for that,” he whispered. “I needed it.” 

“Same here,” you said, settling back down into the bed and stretching out. “I feel like I could fall asleep right now.” 

“Should I let you?” he asked, eyes still closed. 

“You could sing me to sleep,” you suggested. 

“That’s third date shit,” he said, swallowing thickly once again. 

“Suit yourself,” you said with a shrug. “That was nice. I’d like to do it again sometime.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah.” 

Recognizing he was in no state to make conversation anymore, you made the executive decision to end the call. 

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” you said. “Talk to you later?” 

“Yeah,” he said for the third time in a row. “Sounds good. Sleep tight. And thanks for that.” 

You chuckled lowly, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The sharp angle of his nose as he breathed. The flutter of his eyelashes against his cheekbone. The furrow in his brow. You allowed yourself a few uninterrupted moments to indulge in the sheer beauty that was Noah in this state. 

“Goodnight,” you said. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered. 

You ended the call, the vision of his fucked-out face burned into your retinas. It was the only thing you thought of as you drifted off to sleep. Click to be added to the Taglist