𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔰

Two weeks. 14 days. That’s how long it’s been since the last time I saw Noah, or heard from him in any capacity. 

He brought me home that night, walked me to my room, gently pushed me down into the mattress, and covered me in the sheets. I don’t remember it all, but I know I begged him to stay. I know I reached out, wrapped my hand around his massive wrist, and pleaded with tears in my eyes and a hole growing wider in my heart with every passing second. 

“Just sleep,” he said, voice soft yet raw with the aftereffects of the night. “We can talk about it after you wake up.” 

Except he wasn’t here. I tore the entire apartment apart the moment I realized he was gone. Maybe I’m just like him—so enthralled with the way he makes me feel that I’ve become obsessed and destructive. I always knew I had it in me. 

Sometimes, he feels like a ghost. I swear I can hear his voice, ringing in my ears or bouncing against the walls of my bedroom. There’s a lingering sensation against my skin as if he’s right next to me, running his calloused fingers against goosebumps and fresh bruises. There are moments where my body aches as if he has just finished using me, just finished reminding me of who and what I am. When that happens, no amount of boiling hot showers and freshly washed sheets can remove him from my mind. 

Other times, I’m convinced I never met him at all. He’s not just a distant memory. No, he’s just a facade, a dream, a horrible joke that has gone on for too long. I let myself believe in something that was never really there. I put all my faith in a bad prayer. 

He has seeped into every single part of me as if he has found a way to rewrite my chemistry, change the stardust and particulates underneath the cracks in my skin. I will never again be who I was before him. I’m someone who knows what it feels like to be his, and that’s all I will ever be. 

Every single night when Grace comes home from work, I look up from the spot on the couch that is indented and formed around my body from days spent in the same exact spot, and she simply shakes her head at me. There’s no need for words.

Noah hasn’t been to work since they reopened. No one will speak of him. Grace swears she has asked, and I believe her. She says they are all acting as if nothing has happened. No one answers her questions, no one checks up on me. My entire world has been turned upside down, and yet, no one else seems to care. Everyone else moves on, and I’m stuck in the orbit of someone who no longer exists.

I haven’t tried to go back to Bad Decisions. I don’t even know if my membership will work anymore. Grace seems to think they wouldn’t dream of removing my access. I know that Noah regrets every second spent, especially after he gave up so much. He showed his hand too early and is now paying the price. Who wouldn’t resent the person who caused such a terrible thing? I can’t exactly blame him. 

I stare down at his contact in my phone. It feels like a trap. I haven’t used it once since he added it here. I haven't had a need to. Things have been good until now. And even if I tried, he wouldn’t answer. There’s no need when his actions speak volumes. 

Here’s the thing, though. No matter how hard he’s trying to push me away, it won’t work. I won’t let him go this easily, not after everything we’ve experienced together. 

As I lock my phone and toss it onto the pile of pillows at the other end of the couch, the door opens. I don’t bother to lift my head, and neither does Sabbath, who is curled up against my side. I’ve been petting him idly, listening to him purr. It’s been somewhat soothing. 

“Hey, Gracie.”

She doesn’t immediately respond. My brows furrow at the sound of her kicking off her shoes and the way they echo against the hardwood floors. Her keys clatter as they hit the counter of the kitchen island. There’s light patter as she walks like she’s trying not to startle me. I use the arm of the couch to push myself up and look over my shoulder. Strawberry blonde hair covers Grace’s face as if she just pulled out her work ponytail. She blows strands away as she looks at me. 

“Babe,” she murmurs, walking toward the couch. 

The second I see the look on her face, I immediately feel it. That pit in my stomach is opening wide to swallow me whole. I know what she’s going to say. And I move, jumping off the couch and looking around me for the first semblance of an outfit. Sabbath skitters at my movement, springing off the couch and finding a place to hide. 

I watch him before going back to my search. I’ve got to find something to wear, and I’ve got to get down to the club as soon as possible. I’ve been practically living out here, and I don’t know when the last time I did laundry was, so most of what I like to wear is strewn over the kitchen table chairs, or in a pile on the rug underneath the coffee table. 

“Hey,” Grace says, putting a hand on my shoulder and forcing me to still my movements. I reluctantly meet her gaze. 

“I have to go,” I say breathlessly. “I have to see him.”

“No,” she starts, slowly moving to sit us both down on the couch. Once I'm seated, she plops her hands in her lap and nervously fidgets with the ring on her right middle finger. I haven't seen it before now. I stare at it as she blows out a breath and look up when she speaks again. “You need to think this through. Guard your heart.” 

I blink. “What are you talking about? No one has seen him in two weeks, and suddenly he’s just back at work? I need to talk to him, figure out what the fuck is going on.” 

“There’s a reason you haven’t heard from him. I know for a fact that all of those assholes have seen him, and I am certain he told them all to lie so that I couldn’t help you keep tabs on him. He doesn’t want you to know anything. I only saw him by accident.”

“Accident?”

She nods solemnly. “I went up to the office looking for—” she cuts herself off and swallows hard before continuing. “Someone else. I didn’t knock or anything, and he was sitting at the desk with all sorts of paperwork everywhere. The second he saw me, he tried to cover it all up. He begged me to leave, to pretend like I didn’t see him. He knew I was going to come home and tell you. There’s no way he didn’t immediately bail.”

“I don’t care. If I leave now, maybe I can still catch him.” 

With that, I swing my legs off the side of the couch and move to stand up once again. Grace stops me, reaching for my hand to keep me in place. I whip my head to look at her, emotions clawing their way up my throat in place of words.

“I need you to listen to me. Please,” she says. 

I stare at her, eyes trailing down the contortion of her brows, the hard lines etched with concern, the purse of her lips. It’s enough to make me blow out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping as my back hits the couch cushion again. 

“Okay,” I whisper, conceding. 

She squeezes my hand, and I know whatever she’s about to say is going to sting. 

“I know you’re hurting. I know you want some answers to figure out what the fuck is going on. But Noah has made his choices. He left you that night and hasn’t made an effort to come back. Is that what you want for yourself? Someone who just gives up on you when things get hard?”

No, of course not. But that’s not what he’s doing. He’s protecting himself and everything he's created. I am just caught in the aftermath. I press my lips together and shake my head. There’s no use arguing with her. 

“I love you so much,” Grace whispers, her voice cracking. “I hate watching this happen to you. I was the one who pushed you to join the club, to get into a relationship with someone. I just wanted you to let go, to be happy. I wanted you to finally put yourself first. You gave up everything to follow me out here and start fresh. You built your photography business from the ground up, and you took over my lease when I was drowning in debt. You’ve done all of these things for me and the club was supposed to be my way of giving something to you. I never thought…”

She swallows hard, desperately blinking away tears that sting her eyes. Grace isn’t a crier. The last time I saw her like this was the night Jack forced himself on me. And it had been many years before then. I squeeze her hand, and she shudders, pushing it all back to keep talking.

“I don’t want to watch you throw it all away for someone who can’t even be there for you. He chose himself.”

“He chose the club, his livelihood. You can’t be mad at him for that,” I plead. I’m not surprised that I’m defending him, but Grace certainly is. She balks, pushing herself against the arm of the couch. 

“You’re right, but I can be mad at him for how long he has kept this up.”

“What?”

Grace sighs, dropping my hand to run her own through her hair. “The night you were sick, he told me he’d do anything for you. He said he’d burn Bad Decisions down. And for a fucking second there, I actually believed him.”

My breath catches in my throat. “He said that?”

She nods. “He did. He’s…intense, isn’t he?”

I blow out a sad laugh as I nod. “He is. But Grace, that’s why I love him.”

A weight should instantly be lifted off my shoulders the moment those words finally leave my lips. But instead, I just feel heavier, like I’m sealing my fate. 

Grace doesn’t even flinch. “I know you do. But maybe it’s time you let him go.”

“I can’t. I need to see him, to figure out how to fix this. He’ll never admit it, but he needs my help, needs me.” 

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not,” I laugh coldly. “I’m not sure at all. But I owe it to myself, and to our relationship, to try.”

“But do you actually owe it to Noah? You've given so much, and what has he done? It feels like he just takes and takes and takes from you.”

“How can you not see it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. 

Grace opens her mouth and shakes her head, completely at a loss for words. It’s almost comical that this is what finally makes her think the way I do. I reposition myself closer to her on the couch and continue. 

“How can you not see that I take more than he does? He comes into our room every weekend and does exactly what he knows I want. He puts all of himself into the hours we spend. I mean, can you imagine the pressure of someone giving you complete control? Knowing there’s a chance you can fuck it all up or hurt them? It’s not just about sex. It’s about trust. And there is no one else in this world I trust as much as him.” 

Not even you. I don’t say it, but we both feel it hanging heavy in the air between us. 

“How can you continue to trust him when he left you? You were drunk off your ass only an hour after being assaulted, and he just tucked you into bed and disappeared. And you can still talk about him like he’s some God.” 

I’ve never been one to worship any God or to give myself to a single ideal. I’ve always thought for myself and tried my best to make decisions based on what I think is right. Growing up, Grace and I would talk about relationships and boys. We’d always declare that we wouldn’t ever let one come between us. Things were simple back then. That was before adulthood and real responsibilities and way before Bad Decisions and Noah. 

There’s nothing wrong with still trusting someone after they’ve hurt you. It’s about their intentions, about what they do to fix it in the aftermath. 

Hurt flashes over my face. “How can you say that to me?” 

Grace’s eyes widen, and she reaches for me. I flinch away, standing up and crossing my arms for my chest to shield myself. 

“You aren’t listening to me, Grace. Noah is no God. He’s a man, and he makes mistakes. We all do. I know there is more to this. I know Noah did what he did for a reason. It took months for him to tell me the smallest things about himself. Do you honestly think he’d let me in about something this big? He’s pushing me away because he doesn’t want me to get hurt. But loving someone fucking stings, especially with someone like Noah. I don’t care. I want it all. With him. And I am going to that stupid bar, and I am figuring this out. There’s nothing you can say that’s going to make me change my mind.” 

“Fuck,” she groans, running a hand over her face. “I’m sorry.”

I offer her a small smile. “I know you are. But I’m not. I have to do this.”

“I know you do,” she says as she drops her hands and looks at me with soft eyes. For just a moment, it feels like we’re kids again. “Just call me if you need me, okay? And take my car.” 

This time, my smile is real as it pulls at my lips and spreads over my cheeks. I lean forward, grabbing at Grace’s face to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. Then, I scramble, desperately looking for clothes again. All the piles on the living room floor are mostly pajama shorts and oversized T-shirts, nothing I’d want to wear to Bad Decisions, no matter the circumstance. I clamber into my room and freeze in place the second I reach my closet. The perfect outfit pops into my mind only seconds before I see it. The only dress Noah ever directly commented on and told me to wear again. It's red, just like all the rest of them. The spaghetti straps tie into bows on my shoulders, and the asymmetrical hem exposes my right leg. While I don’t feel the confidence I should as I put this on, I know it’s the right choice. When everything is on the line, it’s best to fake it until I make it. 

After I throw myself together, I head out before I get the chance to second-guess my decision. The drive feels like a blur. The route is so familiar, and the closer I get, the more dread sets in. I park in a lot that’s a short walk away, just to keep Grace’s car from being recognized, and start walking. 

Everything has changed. The building is exactly the same, but nothing else is. Davis doesn’t open the door for me. Instead, he steps in front of the handle, his expression shifting into one of turmoil. 

“You know I can’t let you in,” he says softly. 

“Do I know that?” I challenge. 

He chews the inside of his cheek. I know he’s weighing his options. Part of me has always been aware of everyone’s loyalty to Noah, but it’s moments like this that remind me just how deep it goes. 

“I have strict instructions to turn you away.” 

I steel my expression, desperate to keep a single one of these men from knowing just how hurt I really am. “What’s he gonna do? Fire you? Please,” I scoff as I roll my eyes. 

Davis shuffles on his feet, eyes darting to the busy street around us. People shuffle past me as I stand in the middle of the sidewalk, but I plant my feet and stand tall, pointing my chin. I’m not budging until that door opens. 

When he finally looks back at me, Davis’ eyebrows furrow, and he sighs, rummaging around in his pocket. 

I look between his face and his busy hand. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh look,” he says as he pulls the keys out, then promptly turns his hand over and opens it, letting them drop to the ground with a metallic clatter. “I dropped something.”

I giggle at the sight of the discarded keys on the ground and reach my foot out to kick them even further from the door. “And I accidentally pushed them away. Silly me.”

“What a shame,” Davis sighs dramatically, stepping away from the door and bending over. I look back at the door that is now completely unguarded and waste no time hurrying past him. 

The handle feels heavy in my hand, grounding me in reality. I haven’t taken any action so far. I’ve waited this long. Why? I don’t know. Out of fear, maybe. I’ve been paralyzed by the weight of everything that has happened to me. So many moments where I have had no control, and now that I finally have it, I don’t know what to do with it. But I’m going to try to take matters into my own hands. 

I yank the door open and walk as it closes behind me, a gust of air hitting my bare back as it seals. The interior feels cold, even in the warm, dim light, but I ignore it as I make my way to the front desk. 

Nicholas moves slowly as if I’m an animal he’s trying not to scare. I watch as he steps out from behind the front desk and moves to guard the only way in or out of the front lounge. If he thinks he’s going to stop me from going inside, he’s a fucking idiot. It’s going to take a lot more to keep me from Noah. I walk up to him, barely giving him any sort of space. 

“Where is he?” I ask.

Nicholas’s expression is schooled, arms crossed over his chest, and chin pointed up. He looks down his nose at me like I’m some incessant bug that won’t leave, no matter how many times he swats at it. 

“He’s not here,” he answers simply.

“Bullshit,” I bark. “Grace saw him less than an hour ago. You mean to tell me he’s already gone?” 

“You think he’d stay long enough for you to catch him?”

Catch him. Like this is some game of cat and mouse, like I don’t matter enough for him to stick around. I swallow down my emotions and square my shoulders.

“Why are you all treating me like some villain? Like this is my fault? I think it’s honestly baffling that a group of grown men would blame the victim they so desperately tried to protect.”

“That’s not what this is,” Nicholas says softly. “We’re—Noah is trying to protect you.” 

“Protecting me? From what?” I don’t wait for him to answer before I shake my head and continue. “I don’t need protection. I need comfort. I need the trust we spent months building up together. I need him. Here.”

“There are things you don’t know—”

“I don’t know them because no one will talk to me! He hasn’t called or visited. No one will answer any of Grace’s questions. We were both certain that my membership had been revoked. Davis wouldn’t even let me in the fucking building!”

Nicholas’ lips press into a thin line. I can tell that he wants to keep making excuses and stand up for a man who is acting like a coward. But I won’t have it. I deserve better, and he knows it. But all of this pain has me fraying at the edges, no matter how hard I’ve worked to hold myself together. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I whisper, my voice cracking under the pressure. 

“You didn’t,” he repeats in agreement. 

I haven’t had a real conversation with Nicholas before. He always nods at me, lets me into the lounge, and then leaves me to my own devices. He doesn’t make small talk or hover. He’s not like Folio, who only cracks jokes or harmlessly flirts. And he’s certainly nothing like Jolly with his sultry tone and layered seriousness. 

He catches me off guard, breaking me out of my thoughts with a clear of his throat. I look back up at him and nearly topple over at the sight of him stepping away from the gate as he opens it. 

“Nicholas—” 

“Don’t mention it,” he cuts me off quickly. “Just talk some sense into him for me, okay?”

“I’ll try,” I murmur softly, offering him a quick smile and walking into the lounge. 

It’s the same as it always is. People line the bars, sitting on stools or leaning against the counter, drinking and talking amongst themselves. Others sit on lavish couches and plush chairs. A few couples kiss leisurely, taking their time savoring each other as their hands wander down bodies and underneath clothing. There’s even someone on all fours with their head down in obedience as someone else, presumably their master, rests their legs up on them. Heat slides down my veins, threatening to pool between my legs, but I desperately ignore it. Before, I’d savor the feeling and let it fuel my night. Now, after everything, I have to let it go and not give in. 

I look up at the main bar, spotting Folio instantly. He’s shaking a drink mixer and chatting casually, laughing along to a conversation he is surprisingly not leading. He smiles at something, eyes wandering up to scan the room as he listens. I don’t have enough time to hide, but I do pick up my pace. His face changes to an expression I can’t quite read, a mix of shock and annoyance and maybe even pity. He watches me go, too busy working to be able to stop me, and I give him a wave as I pass.

I never realized that I walk the exact same path every time I make my way to the roped-off section of the club. It has become muscle memory to pass the couches and the people and make my way to the main focal point of the room. You can't miss the throne, front and center, with its massive black frame and deep red plush cushion. Something about it always draws me to it, like I am just hoping that Noah appears with his eyes on me and his hands gripping the armrests. 

While Noah isn’t in it this time, someone else is. I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes widening. There’s someone sitting on Noah's throne. They’re wearing all black with a familiar balaclava pulled over their head to cover their face. Every single part of me knows it’s not Noah. I don’t even have to see their face to confirm it. It’s obvious in their posture, the way they sit hunched over with their hands up to their face and their elbows on their legs. They want to come off menacingly, like they are watching the room with authority, but they’re just an imposter, a fraud. I force myself to stay still, locking my muscles in place. As much as I want to march up to them and demand they let go of the ridiculous act, I know they serve a purpose. A decoy, someone to keep up the facade. 

It’s a smart idea, probably part of whatever Noah is concocting. I blow out a deep, uneven breath, knowing that this will all make sense to me soon enough, and continue walking. 

Jolly’s already looking at me when I finally meet his eye. He looks… exhausted. Dark bags make his brown irises feel somewhat empty. Stubble lines his chin, and combined with his somewhat tangled hair, it’s obvious that it’s been a rough few days. And it’s all my fault, no matter how hard I’ve tried to stay out of trouble. He doesn’t move to stand in front of the rope. He stays completely still, hands clasped in front of him. 

“Are you going to stop me like everyone else?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“No,” Jolly says simply, shaking his head. “There’s no need.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because, little lamb, your dom deserves to be humbled. And you’re the only one who stands a chance.” 

“Jolly,” I snort a startled laugh, lips curling upward. The tiniest bit of anxiety dissipates with the seriousness he uses to convey such a silly sentence. 

“I mean it. He’s the most miserable person I know. Except for when it comes to you. Then I actually see him smile and give in. He never lets himself have the good things he deserves. I think you can knock some sense into him. Or even fuck it into him. Whatever works.” 

“Alright!” I shriek, throwing my hands up in surrender. “Alright. I’m going. Wish me luck.”

Jolly smiles at me, unclasping his hands to reach behind him and unhook the divider. Anxiety seeps into my bones as I step into the hallway. Nonetheless, I pause and swivel on my heels, leaning over to give Jolly a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” I murmur. Just two words, but their meaning is endless, and Jolly knows it. 

I don’t give him a chance to answer as I turn back around and walk further into the hall. Rooms line either side of me, and while they are familiar, everything else feels uncharted. I don’t know if my keycard will even unlock these doors anymore. And I certainly don’t know about the room at the end of the hall. I can feel it staring at me before I even dare to look at it.

The first time I passed it, I felt drawn to it, had my eyes on it. It felt untouchable, like I was never going to see what was on the other side. Little did I know that a stupid fucking room was going to be the place where I feel the safest, the most at home.

But my home isn’t really a place or a room. It’s a person. 

I pick my head up and finally look at it, immediately noticing that something is missing—the sign was proudly displayed above the door. The King in tarnished silver. I can make out perfectly where it once was, and its absence makes my heart ache. I don’t know why Noah took it down, but I know everything else will change in its wake. 

I hesitate as I walk up to the door, hand trembling before I even lift it to the fingerprint scanner. Part of me knows it will still unlock for me, but there’s doubt seeping into my bones. A relieved sigh escapes my lips as the door beeps in approval. 

All that’s left is to open it and see what’s on the other side. 

The handle clicks as it gives way, turning easily. I push the door open, using the creaking of the hinges to ignore the loud thump of my heart in my ears. I step inside, closing the door quickly so I don’t go back on my decision. 

And there he is, sitting in the leather chair that’s diagonal to the couch. It faces off toward the bed so I can see his side profile, the way his perfect nose points upward, and his lips jut out in a pout. His brows are furrowed, jaw clenched tightly. He’s looking down at something I can’t quite see, fingers tracing over it idly. 

Since he’s not needed as The King right now, with the fake one sitting on his throne, he’s dressed casually. Fitted pants, a tank top, and sneakers. All black. His hair is tucked under a baseball hat, hair curling by his ears as it sticks out in the back. I’ve seen him wear something similar before, but this time, he feels like someone new. 

“I didn't think it would be so easy to find you,” I admit, pressing my back against the door. 

Noah doesn’t move a muscle. 

“I saw no point in running. Everyone had orders to keep you away.”

My heart sinks, disappearing somewhere behind my rib cage and far past the point of return. I haven't heard this tone in his voice in months, not since the beginning. He was closed off back then, always desperately trying to keep me from knowing the real him. Over time, this rough exterior cracked and softened, but with every mistake made, we’re almost right back where we started. 

“They tried. It didn't work,” I explain matter-of-factly. 

“Unsurprising.” 

Tension permeates the air, making my throat feel tight. It shouldn’t be like this, not anymore. We’ve already gone through the awkwardness of nerves and early interactions. We are so far removed from it now. But I know what he’s doing, trying to keep me at arm’s length. 

“Look at me,” I demand, voice cracking.

“Not right now.”

I scoff, and frustration bubbles in my chest. “Why not? Are you ashamed that you picked me? Am I a mistake?”

His knuckles turn white as he grips the object in his hand. “I am not ashamed of you.”

I don’t believe him as much as I would have two weeks ago. 

“Then what is it?” I ask as I push off from the door and step closer to the chair. “Why can’t you look at me? Or be honest with me? Haven’t I done enough to deserve it?” 

“You should leave,” he grits out, leaving my questions unanswered.

“We both know I’m not doing that. It’s been two weeks, Noah. Why haven't you said anything?”

His lips press together in a thin line as if he has no intentions of continuing this conversation any further. I watch him for a moment, taking in the way he leisurely leans against the cushions of the chair, shoes firmly planted on the area rug. 

I love him. All of him, even the things he won’t tell me, the parts of him he won’t let me see. 

But I’ve had enough of this. 

I step toward him, closing the gap between us and grabbing the arm of the chair. It’s an enormous piece, something I’ve seen every time I’ve been in this room. I never expected it to move with ease, swiveling to face me. 

My breath catches in my throat when Noah’s eyes are on mine. His brows are furrowed, hard lines etched over every inch of his face. His dark brown eyes are narrowed, jaw clenched tight. Misery surrounds him, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. 

Curiosity gets the best of me, and my eyes drop down to his hands. All the air is sucked out of my lungs at the sight. My collar, his fingers tangled with the fabric. I look back up to meet his eyes. 

“I told you to leave,” he says, voice gruff and words barely breaking through. He calmly leans to the side and places the collar on the coffee table. 

“And I already told you I’m not doing that.”

He slowly shakes his head as he straightens back up, a sinister smirk curling over his lips. “You’re going to regret it, staying here, being with me.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Everyone does sooner or later,” he says with a shrug. “Eventually, you will too.” 

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Why can’t you just give it up? This is a sad act, shitty self-sabotage. Let me help you.”

“Help me?” He repeats in a choked, surprised laugh. “I’ll only hurt you.”

“Let me make that choice for myself. I want you to hurt me. I’ve asked you to do it over and over again. And I’ll keep doing it! Just tell me what’s going on, Noah.”

“No,” he answers, shaking his head harshly. 

“How is this fair?” I throw my hands up in frustration. “You tucked me into bed and told me we’d talk about it in the morning, and then you fucked off! No texts, no calls, no visits. Were you hoping I'd take that as some sort of hint?”

“That's exactly what I expected,” he nods. “Turns out you're more stubborn than I thought. Or maybe just stupid, I don't know.”

My mouth falls open in pure shock. “Now you're just being mean.”

“All I've ever been is realistic.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, tilting my head in challenge. “Is denying your feelings and pushing everyone away because you're afraid of commitment a part of being realistic?” 

He stiffens in his chair, muscles locking and back straightening. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? I don’t?” I repeat. He narrows his eyes as if he’s challenging me, but I know he desperately wants me to shut up. I can’t, not when there is so much on the line. “Is this denial also a part of being realistic?”

“Pet,” he warns. “Quit while you're ahead.”

“You know what? No,” I laugh coldly. “Why should I? Are you going to punish me?” 

“No,” he answers honestly. 

“Then I'll continue,” I respond with a sarcastic lick. 

He leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, and motions me forward. 

There's so much I can say, but if I don't get right to the point, we're just going to keep going around in circles. There's no real resolution to this. He'll never just admit his feelings unless I pull it out of him. 

I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“I know that you love me, but you’re too scared to admit it.”

He shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I don’t let him cut me off or work to find some bullshit excuse. 

“I know that you fell for me a long time ago. I don’t know exactly when, but I have my suspicions. Maybe it was as early as our first session or the day I crawled in the front lounge, in front of all the guests. It doesn’t matter. The longer we spent together, the more I saw it in your eyes, the way you relaxed throughout sessions. I know you care about me. And I know it scares you. Guess what, Noah? It scares me too. It’s fucking terrifying. Because I love you too. More than anyone else. Maybe even more than I should. And I have chosen to stick by you even after you didn’t stay. I won’t pretend to understand everything about you. But if you just let me in—”

“Stop,” he demands, voice echoing in a loud boom that practically rattles the walls. 

“Let me help you. Let me be there for you. I can help save the club. I can show you that it's okay to let yourself love someone.” 

He stands up abruptly, towering over me and crowding the little space between us. I crane my neck ever so slightly to meet his eye as he peers down his nose. 

I've never been afraid of him, and I'm certainly not going to be now, especially with how he's slowly falling apart. 

“That’s enough,” he snarls. 

“Noah,” I whisper, hesitantly reaching a hand out toward him. He doesn’t move, just keeps his eyes on me. I gently take his hand in mine and lead it to my mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the top of it before resting it onto my cheek and leaning into the touch. 

He instantly morphs into someone I’ve never seen before. All of his walls come crashing down, and I know how desperately he’s trying to build them all back up. 

“Baby,” he whispers.

“You love me,” I murmur.

He shakes his head, smiling sadly. “I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I can’t.” 

“Why can't you, Noah? You’re punishing yourself for no reason. No one else is making you do this.”

He drops his hand from my face, and the absence of his warmth makes my entire body so cold. 

“My entire life has made me like this! All these people taking and taking, and giving me nothing back! And the one time I finally have something of my own, they try to take that too!” 

“No one is going to take the club. The guys wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I’m not talking about the club.”

I swear I stop breathing. He says the words with a sharp seriousness, as if I already know the answer. And I do. It’s been festering under my skin. 

“You. It’s you. The most important thing in my entire fucking life. I'm proud of this club, of the space I've been able to create. But nothing, and I mean fucking nothing, matters more than you.”

I shake my head slowly as I desperately gasp for air that refuses to fill my lungs. “When did you—”

“Early on. Maybe even before you were truly mine. I don’t know, it doesn’t matter.”

So many thoughts race through my head. While he hasn’t said those three little words exactly, this has the same effect. I feel weightless, infinite. But there’s something else inside me too. Something I never thought I’d want in any way. 

Control.

“You love me?” I ask, a coldness seeping over my words.

Noah blinks, eyes tracing over every inch of my face. “I do.”

There’s a hesitation in his voice, but it’s not because he’s unsure of his feelings. It’s because of me. He realizes why I’m asking, but by then it's too late. 

I nod down toward the wood floors, a sinister smile pulling at my lips. “Then get on your knees.” 

・┈・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 😭

taglist: @lowergroundfloor @mrslumi @mapsychoticimagination @meddleabout2 @astronoids @pipidoll @bartxnhood @dominuslunae @stardustsirenmelody @haileebluee @curse-bearing-hips @vintagemisery---blog @noahsstrawberry @shuiguans @fadingintothegrey @mushrumink @hayleylatour @death-ofpeace-ofmind @r3prise @novainpolaroids @eclipseeetop @leosunshine @miss570 @ami-gami @sleepycactus-omens @innerconnoisseurhologram @theservantbones @my-perfect-weapon @bassvivz @sullyselena @iamnotyourstoperceive @givemesomethingbeautiful @itsfarbettertolearn @enbytarin @overmydeadbodysblog @yabagoobieberg @museonfilm @wormm-mom @bridemassacre @lifeirreverent @montgomery-929496 @dead-astrid @gayfiretruck @death-core-fairy @icybansheesoul @acatatonicpeace

You turned your head to look at the man sleeping beside you. It was just light enough to make up the features of his face. His profile was one you could have recognized anywhere. The gentle slope of his nose, the soft curve of his lips, the dark strands of hair falling carelessly across his forehead - every detail felt familiar. Even in sleep, there was something achingly beautiful about him. The fading light caught the sharp line of his jaw and the ink winding up his neck, softening them into something almost tender. You studied him for a while, thinking he looked almost younger than his thirty years when he slept. Something in your chest tightened at the sight of him. 

”I can feel you staring at me,” he says suddenly, making you jump a little. 

”Jesus! I thought you were sleeping.” 

He opens one eye, tilting his head slightly more in your direction. 

”You should be sleeping.” 

”I know,” you sigh, ”I’ve been trying forever.” 

”Is there something in particular that’s keeping you up? Wanna talk about it?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows. 

”Just… I feel so restless. I’m so close to falling asleep and then something pops into my head and I’m wide awake again. My head just won’t shut up.” You run a hand down your face, sighing deeply. 

Noah turns slightly so he’s facing you, his upper body raised slightly by an elbow pressed into the mattress, cheek nestled in his palm. A mischievous look spreads across his face.

”We can’t have that now, can we?” he murmurs. You know it’s not a question. ”I can think of a way to help you out, you know…Do you feel like A or B?” 

Your tired brain doesn’t understand him at first, even though he used your code. 

”I - what?” 

Noah chuckles under his breath. ”Tell me baby…” He reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. ”Pretty baby… will it be A or B? Let me help you sleep.” 

For a moment you just stare at him, then the penny drops. He was simultaneously asking for your permission, and letting you make a choice. This was your code. If you choose A, he’ll make love to you. If you choose B however; he’s going to rail you into the mattress. 

”Oh…Oh!”  

He smiles at you. ”There she is.” 

”B… Please.” 

A grin creeps onto his lips, his eyes darkening. ”Oh my sweet, sweet darling.” He lurches forward, caging you underneath him. His lips crashing onto yours with a fever, like he’d been thinking about this for hours, like he’s dying of thirst and you’re a glass of water. One of your hands nestles in his hair, pulling on it slightly, and he rewards you with a soft moan. Your other hand gripping a broad shoulder, feeling his muscles move underneath his smooth skin. 

He deepens the kiss until your teeth clash painfully together, but neither of you care enough to stop. He bites down on your lower lip, making you whimper. Noah works his way from your lips to that spot on your neck. He trails feather light, open mouth kisses along your jaw down to your neck. His teeth lightly graze the sensitive spot underneath your ear, making you draw a sharp breath. Moving down to your collarbone he leaves a damp trail on your skin. He leans back a little, blowing cool air over your sensitive skin. You feel like you’re going to combust. You let out a whiny ”please…” and his eyes shot up to you, your eyes already glazed over. 

”Oh poor baby…” he coos, ”I know, I know…”

One of his large hands slips under your t-shirt and bushes the underside of your breast, the light touch sending heat right down to where you need him the most. You involuntarily buck your hips up against him. ”Patience my dear, patience.” he whispers into the crook of your neck as his fingers reach your nipple. Taking the bud between his thumb and pointer finger he starts slowly pinching, tugging and rolling it.

He’s taking his time, and you can feel the damp patch on your underwear getting larger. You need him so badly, and he knows it. But he wants to take his time with you before giving you what you need. He revels in your glazed over eyes, your shallow breathing and the way your hips desperately grind on him. 

”Lift your arms up for me darling.” 

You obey. In one fluid motion he peels your T-shirt off, discarding it on the floor. You lay beneath him in only your underwear, hair already a mess on the pillow beneath you. 

”You’re so pretty.” 

You blush. ”So are you.”

He chuckles softly as his mouth places kisses all over your chest, biting and licking your skin. His lips closes around your hard bud, tongue swirling. You clench around nothing. You felt a large hand rubbing your stomach, making its way down to where you so desperately need him. 

”Oh baby… look at how wet you are. You’re soaking through.” His fingers dips down the waistband of your panties, two long fingers running through your wet folds. He leans forward, placing a small kiss on your earlobe. ”You’re soaking my fingers and I haven’t even made you cum yet.” he whispers as he starts rubbing circles on your clit. Your breath hitches at the contact. He’s going slowly, so slowly. You thrust your hips forward again, desperate for more friction. He pulls his hand away and tsks at you. 

”Beg for it.” You won’t pretend that you don’t know it’s an order. Normally you might challenge him, but you can practically feel yourself dripping down on the mattress. 

”Please… I need you to- please.” 

”You need me to…what?” 

”Pleaseee.” you whine, eyes fluttering. 

”My poor, needy girl. I’ve barely touched you and you’ve already lost the ability to form a coherent sentence.” He reaches for your jaw, squishing your cheeks together. ”What do you need?” 

You’re already having a hard time getting your words out, and Noah’s grip on your jaw and cheeks isn’t making things easier. ”I want you - I need… please…”

His other hand finds its way to the waistband of your underwear, hooking a long finger underneath, ready to pull them off. 

His grip on your jaw tightens a little. ”Tell me exactly what you need, sweetheart.” 

”I need you to touch- I need-” you take a breath to steady yourself, ”Please Noah I need you to touch me!” 

He instantly rips your underwear off. Two long fingers running up and down your slick folds before he eases them into you. The stretch feels immaculate, a low moan leaving your lips. 

”Look at that!” he says as he begins to pump his fingers into you. ”You had the words all along. Good girl.” 

Two fingers become three as he adds his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles on it. Noah curls his fingers to find that perfect, delicious spot. He does. You let out an almost pornographic noise as you arch your back against him. You can feel the heat building up in your lower belly as you reach down to pinch your own nipple. 

You feel your walls fluttering, how the tight coil is about to snap. And just when your orgasm is on the verge of washing over you, Noah pulls his fingers out of you. You make a disgruntled sound. He chuckles. 

”Why did- I was- please Noah I was so close!” 

You meet his eyes, and in the dim light you can see his pupils blown wide - almost making his eyes black. 

”I know, baby. I know,” he says, his voice dripping in fake pity. 

He shifts his weight back, sitting on his knees between your legs. He towers over you. You lift yourself up to reach for him, to reach for his arms. You try to pull him back, to pull his hands and fingers back to where you need him. You feel a tear running down your face in pure frustration. 

”My poor baby. You look so pathetic right now…” He smirks down at you. ”I bet you’d do anything for me to touch you again.” 

You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. 

”Yes,” you breathe. 

He leans over you, making you tilt your head back to look at him. 

He lifts a finger to tap at your jaw. ”Open.” It’s an order, not a suggestion. You do as he says and open your mouth. Looking up at him, neither of you break eye contact as he spits in your mouth, some of it landing on the corner of your mouth. You swallow his saliva and then stick your tongue to gather every last drop. 

”Say thank you.” 

”Thank you.”

”My good girl,” he coos. ”Good girls get rewarded.” 

His thumb brushes your lower lip, prying your mouth open. He puts his fingers in your mouth. You feel the pads of his fingertips press down on the back of your tongue, making you gag slightly. You close your lips around his fingers, hollowing your cheeks. You can taste yourself on him. He groans. 

“What a good girl. Cleaning up your mess. See how wet you got for me, baby?” 

You look up at him through your eyelashes and he huffs, own jaw dropping a little. He pulls his fingers from you, pushing you down on your back. He trails kisses from your jaw, to your neck, down to your collarbone. He spends some extra time kissing and biting the soft flesh of your breasts before making his way down your stomach, kissing and licking your soft skin. 

He dips down between your legs, laying down on his stomach and lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. You squirm. Noah places a kiss on the inside of your thigh, continuing down to your knee. You know what he’s doing, and it’s driving you crazy. Noah loves the way you’re writhing beneath him, eyes filling with tears of frustration. He loves watching your brain turn off in real time.

 ”Noah… Noah, please.” 

He looks up at you from between your legs, a devilish grin on his lips. 

”Oh my goodness, ” he teases, ”Look at you. So needy. So desperate. Begging for me.”

 He leans down, placing a chaste kiss right above your bundle of nerves. Your whole body jerks at the soft touch. 

”You want me to touch you?” 

You nod your head frantically. 

”Yeah? You want me to eat this pretty pussy?” 

He’s teasing your entrance with a long finger, just barely inserting it. It makes you clench around what little he’s giving you. He chuckles. 

”You need to use your words, baby. How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t tell me?” 

He’s pushing your limits. You’re so desperate for him that your brain is short circuiting. ”I- I can’t… I- fuck Noah, please I… I need to cum. Please.” 

The next second he’s once again pushing two fingers into you, curling them just right. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit. One of your hands finds its way to his hair, the other grips the sheet under you. 

He takes his time, placing soft kisses on your clit. His tongue swirls around it, over it. You inhale sharply as he lightly bites down, your fingers pulling harder at his hair. Noah speeds up, lapping at your folds like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. At the same time he sets a punishing pace with his fingers, repeatedly hitting that perfect spot as his fingers curl inside of you. He puts his lips around your clit, sucking on it. 

It crashes over you as sudden as lightning strikes. Your whole body convulses, your vision blurring. You gasp his name in prayer as you squeeze around his fingers. Your thighs squeezing his head, but he doesn’t pull away. You try to push his head away, the overstimulation of him continuing to suck, lick and kiss you at the same time as he keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of you almost becoming unbearable. 

It’s no use however, he’s much stronger than you. He murmurs ”You’ve done when I’m done.” against your pulsating core. Your head snaps back, eyes rolling back in their sockets. Your blood feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending in your body electrified. 

”Noah… Noah - please I can’t…” you whine, squeezing his head so hard between your thighs that you’re afraid of hurting him.

He pulls his face away from you, still pumping his fingers. His lips, chin and cheeks are glistening with your arousal. The sight makes you blush. 

“Oh baby… you’ve got one more in you for me, yeah?” 

You shake your head. He tut-tuts. 

“You do if I say you do.” His voice drops slightly, and with it the mood in the room shifts. 

Noah leans forward, adding a third finger, and whispers against your ear. “And god have mercy on you if you dare cum without my permission.” You nod, biting your lower lip. 

The sensation is overwhelming. You’re so sensitive and every flick of his wrist is sending your body into a frenzy. He knows your body so well, and he knows just the pace to pull you towards the edge. You close your eyes. ”Please…” you whine. 

”Not yet, angel. Not yet.” 

You writhe beneath him, wanting nothing else than to be allowed to cum. Noah snakes his other hand down your body, using his thumb to rub fast circles on your clit. His mouth is attached to your neck, your jaw, leaving tiny red bite marks behind. 

”Noah… I’m- I can’t. You need to let me… oh my god!” He redoubles his efforts, just to torture you a bit more. 

”Do you think you deserve it?” he mumbles against your neck. 

”Please. I’ve been good! I- so good. I need… I need it so bad. Noah I-” you’re blabbering under him, not able to even form a thought. 

”You have,” he sighs. ”Always my good girl. Go ahead then.”

And with his permission you come undone. A broken cry tears from your throat. Pulsing against his fingers, waves of pleasure tearing through you. Noah pulls his fingers out of you, popping them in his own mouth. He groans as he tastes you. Watching him through hazy eyes, you give him a small smile. 

”You did so good for me baby, so good.” He gently cups your cheeks, kidding your forehead. You slightly shift your leg; and that’s when you feel it. He’s still in his boxers, but you can feel his rock hard cock through the fabric. He hisses as your knee brushes against it. You extend a hand, reaching for him. He takes a hold around your wrist, stopping you.

”No baby, I’m fine. This was all about you.” he says it so sincerely. You know that he’s perfectly content to cuddle you for a moment before disappearing to the bathroom and sorting himself out. You don’t want that though. 

”What if I’m not satisfied yet?” 

His whole body stiffens, head snapping up to look at you. ”You’re not satisfied?” You shake your head. 

”You couldn’t form a sentence a minute ago.” 

”I can now.” 

His gaze is fixed on you, eyes darkening. He once again grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together. 

”You’ll regret saying that, my love.” 

He flips you over so you’re laying on your stomach like you weigh nothing. His large hands grab a hold of your hips, pulling your ass towards himself. You wince when his open palm makes contact with your asscheek. 

You can feel him shifting behind you. He then  unceremoniously pushes himself forward until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you. Noah doesn’t let you get used to the way he stretches you, setting an unrelenting pace from the get go. You all but scream into the pillow as he thrusts in and out of you. 

You rock your hips back against him, trying your best to match his pace. You can’t. He chuckles at your attempt and whispers “absolutely pathetic” as his hand finds its way to nestle in your hair. He tugs at your roots as he pushes your face into the pillow. The way he completely fills you is making your head spin. 

Noah uses his grip on your hair to pull you upright, your back pressed against his chest. He hooks one arm around your neck, putting you in a headlock. With his other hand he starts rubbing circles over your clit. The feeling of him thrusting up into you while he’s playing with your bundle of nerves as he’s putting slight pressure on your neck makes you cry out in pleasure. 

“You feel so good. So wet. So warm.” Noah grunts, placing a kiss behind your ear. “This pussy was made for me, huh?” 

“Y-yes.” You’re choking on your words, sight starting to blur from the tears gathering in your eyes. His breath on your neck grows more ragged, a guttural groan leaving his throat as you decide to clamp your walls tight around him. 

”Fuck baby you can’t just… Oh shi- you’re squeezing me so fucking tight.” 

He pulls out of you, flipping you so you’re facing him, laying you down on the mattress. He lowers himself over you, lining himself up and thrusting forward. He puts one hand under your knee, pushing your leg up, opening you up. The new angle allows him to thrust even deeper into you. You could swear he’s actually rearranging your guts. Your eyes roll back, mouth falling open as you pant his name. Tears roll down your face from the intensity of the pleasure he’s giving you. 

”Thats it baby.” He’s panting too. ”I want to see you crumble for me. I want to see you completely destroyed.” He leans down over you, placing a hungry kiss on your open mouth. ”I love how you fall apart for me.” 

You can’t answer him. Your words have completely failed you. All you can do is look at him, mouth hanging open. His mouth finds yours as his hips speeds up. Your hands find his broad shoulders, travelling down his back. You pull at his bottom lip with your teeth, spurring him on. Your nails dig into the skin of his back, and you know it’s gonna leave a mark or two. Noah pulls his mouth off of yours, a string of saliva still connecting you. You try to catch it with your tongue. 

“Oh my filthy, filthy girl. Open up then, I’ll give you what you want.” 

You open your mouth wider and he spits. You swallow it and mumble a small ”thanks”.

In a swift motion Noah rolls over, pulling you with him. He’s seated on the bed, back resting against the headboard. You’re in his lap, straddling him. You’re so tired, so fucked out of your mind. But the look on his face when he mutters the simple instruction of ”ride” makes it clear that there’s no use in fighting him. Your thighs tremble and your chest is heaving as you take his thick cock in your hand, lining him up at your entrance and lowering yourself down on him. 

You take a sharp breath, the way he fills you in this angle is absolutely overwhelming. You place your hands on his broad shoulders, needing to hold onto something. You feel like you’re going to collapse. His sweaty skin acts as your anchor to reality as Noah grabs ahold of your hips, helping you find a rhythm. 

As you grind down on him, he hits that sweet spot inside of you. You’re almost seeing stars when a large hand travels down to where you’re connected. You cry out as Noah starts rubbing circles on your clit. He’s watching your face contort, feeling the way your whole body is shaking. 

“You feel that?” he asks. “I’m so deep in you baby. Taking me so well.”  

You can only nod your head. 

“My perfect girl… Bouncing herself dumb on my lap. I bet you can’t even think straight.” 

He uses his other hand to slap your ass, once, twice, three times. Each time is a little harder than the one before. It leaves a delicious sting behind. 

“Noah I’m so… I’m so close. Please,” you beg. 

“Cum for me angel. I want to feel you fall apart on my cock.” 

He picks up his pace, vigorously rubbing circles on your bundle of nerves. And that does it for you. Your whole body snaps forward, pulsating and twitching. You fall into Noah’s arms and he holds you closer as his own end washes over him. You can feel him twitching inside of you, hot ropes of cum painting your insides. 

For a moment you just sit there, both of your chests heaving. Noah rubs your back with one hand, moving it slowly up and down, while the other threads gently through your hair. He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, holding you closely until your breathing evens out. You melt into him, cheek pressed to this damp chest, head tucked under his chin. 

”You okay?” Noah asks, placing another kiss on the top of your head. 

”Yeah,” you whisper. ”Just tired.” 

He sits with you in his lap a while longer, continuously rubbing your back, petting your hair, kissing your forehead. You can feel your body getting heavier, eyelids dropping.

”Baby?” 

”Hmm?” 

”As much as I’d love to hold you like this all night, we need to get you cleaned up.”

You make a disgruntled noise, but allow him to gently scoop you up and lay you down on the bed. He kisses your cheek, your forehead, your nose, the corner of your mouth. You giggle. 

”I’m gonna go get a towel, alright?” he says, standing up, turning on a table light on the dresser on his way to the bathroom. You gasp.

The tattoo he’s spent so long finishing spanned his entire back, a traditional depiction of Jesus, crowned with thorns and gazing heavenward. The skin beneath it was now littered with small, angry scratchmarks, each one bright red against the ink. Small droops of blood distorting the image until it looked as if Christ himself were bleeding from his eyes.

”Oh my god Noah!” 

”Huh?” 

”Your back!” You could feel your cheeks turning red. ”I’ve made Jesus cry!” 

He stops in front of the full length mirror with his back against it, turning his head to see for himself. A dark smile spread across his face as he looked at the red marks and the tiny drops of blood scattered across the tattoo. There was pride in his eyes. He had earned every mark carved into his skin. 

”Well…” he says, looking back at you. ”He did die for our sins. And what we just did…” He sweeps a hand towards the bed as if referring to everything that had happened there. ”Was definitely sinful.” 

And with that he left the room, leaving you with your jaw hanging open. Noah made quick work of cleaning himself up in the bathroom before picking out the softest towel from the cupboard. He turns the tap on, testing the temperature against his hand before wetting the towel and wringing it out.

By the time he returns to your shared bedroom, you’re already asleep. Laying sprawled across the bed, your hair tousled across the pillow. For a moment, he simply stands there, watching you, feeling that familiar ache in his chest.

He gently sits down beside you. Carefully, he cleans the mess between your thighs, his touch light enough not to wake you. When he’s finished, he brushes a few strands of hair from your face and presses a soft kiss to your hairline.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.” 

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