ashleigh ୨ৎ

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Noah stood in the shower with one hand braced against the black tile wall, his head bowed as hot water ran down the back of his neck. Steam filled the bathroom like fog, blurring the full body mirror opposite the glass. 

Good. He didn’t particularly want to look at himself right now. Not after eight hours on a red-eye flight from London while his body ran on nothing but a cheap protein bar and two coffees. He hadn’t slept, he couldn’t sleep, and his body couldn’t even tell what time it was anymore. 

He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as the water ran through his hair before spiralling down the drain, carrying away the smell of airplane and weeks spent living out of a suitcase. His muscles ached from sleeping in cramped bunks on the tour buses, hauling heavy luggage through terminals and sitting in vans and planes for hours on end. 

He straightened up and rolled one shoulder, letting out a groan when it cracked loudly. 

So fucking old. He thought to himself. Though thirty wasn’t old, not in the slightest, it just felt that way after six weeks on the road, travelling through Europe. 

He landed just less than an hour ago, and he dropped his bags by the front door and immediately headed into the bathroom. He’d deal with unpacking later, he’d deal with missed calls and emails and whatever else was waiting for him later. 

After shutting off the shower, he finally noticed just how quiet his apartment (penthouse, he’s just humble) was. He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water disappearing into the expensive rug beneath his feet as he made his way into the kitchen. The place looked exactly how he’d left it, spotless, almost too clean- despite him telling his cleaner not to bother coming while he was on tour, but still paid her anyway. 

He stopped beside the kitchen island, and opened the fridge. Inside, he found a couple bottled waters, half a lemon and expired oat milk. He stared at it for a moment before shutting the door again. 

Food could wait. Everything could wait. 

He shook his head, and was about to make his way to the bedroom when his phone buzzed on the counter. 

Davis: Land safe?

He unlocked his phone and typed with tired fingers. 

Noah: Yeah. Got back an hour ago. 

Davis: Good. Get some rest dude, you deserve it 

He huffed a humourless laugh and tossed his phone back onto the counter. 

If only it worked like that. 

He knew he needed sleep, he was exhausted, every muscle in his body was screaming for rest, his eyelids burned and his head felt heavy… but he knew himself too well. If he climbed into bed right now, he’d stare up at the ceiling, eventually reach for his phone and scroll through twitter, reading comments he shouldn’t read. Maybe eventually he’d move into the studio and open up his laptop, start tweaking some demos for the next album, then start panicking about the next album. Worrying whether it’s good enough, thinking about streams and people’s expectations until the pressure would send him into a spiral. 

His brain didn’t know how to stop when he was at home, or at least not on it’s own. 

So he dragged his suitcase into the bedroom, and dropped it onto the bed. He dug through it until he pulled out a pair of black jeans, a tshirt that didn’t cling to him, and a pair of boxers that he hoped were clean. He quickly got dressed and half heartedly dried his hair with his towel before reaching for his black baseball cap that had dropped onto the floor. 

He caught his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted it on his head- his bloodshot eyes and dark circles, the way tour seemed to physically age him another thirty years. 

He just stared at himself for a moment before his eye caught his suitcase in the reflection. He should stay home, he should unpack, he knew that. Any sensible person would’ve climbed into bed and slept for twelve hours… instead, Noah found himself wandering towards the front door and reaching for his car keys. 

Because there was only one thing he could think about during the entire flight home. Not his bed, not the new album, not even seeing his friends. It was you. 

He didn’t have your number, he never asked for it, it never felt right, because everything about the two of you existed within the walls of the club. There was something comforting about that, though. There were no expectations, no texts late at night, no need to wonder if he was bothering you on your day off. He just had to turn up to the club, walk through the doors and you were there. 

But sometimes you weren’t. 

And if you weren’t, he’d nurse a whiskey, chat to the bartender for a while, tip the girls who came over to say hello then head home. But he knew that wouldn’t be the case tonight, since he knew for sure that you were working. Before he left for Europe, the bartender told him that you’d picked up Thursdays now that one of the other girls had left. So before he even left for the tour, he knew exactly where he’d be on the night he came home. 

He barely remembered getting in his car, but now he was at the club, walking up the door with his head down.

“Look who finally decided to come home!” The bouncer grinned, making Noah look up and give a tired smile. 

“It’s been a long six weeks.” Noah sighed, and the bouncer nodded his head before stepping aside to let him through. 

“Good to have you back.” 

“Good to be back.” He said with a nod, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. 

But it didn’t matter anymore once he stepped inside, the smell of perfume, cologne and alcohol all mixed together as coloured lights swept across the room. Nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone, everything was still in the same place, they were still playing the same music, the same bartender was polishing glasses behind the counter. 

He let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, then his eyes found you. You were on the stage, you must’ve been halfway through your first set tonight. 

He smiled to himself when he saw what you were wearing. The most gorgeous lacey lilac two piece that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He wondered just how many outfits you had, since last time you were in emerald, and before that it was red, baby pink, silver, and he could never forget when you were in black the first time he came here.

You looked beautiful as ever tonight. Your hair was even curled, and it gently bounced as you moved beneath the lights. The crowd was eating it up- there were a group of businessmen at the front who looked hypnotised, and a couple guys he guessed were rather drunk, throwing handfuls of bills onto the stage. 

You gave a polite smile, gracious and professional as you twirled around the pole again. Oh how he had missed watching you…

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite rockstar.” Noah looked over to see one of the girls who worked here, Lila, smiling brightly and looping an arm loosely through his. “You’ve been gone forever.” 

“Six weeks.” He nodded. 

“See,” she pouted, “Forever!” 

He laughed softly, a warm smile creeping onto his lips. 

“Good to see you.” He said. 

“You too.” She said, before stepping back to take a proper look at him. “...Shit. You look exhausted.” 

“I am.” He quietly admitted. 

“You want some company?” She asked casually. And there was no pressure, because she knew the answer already. 

“I appreciate it,” Noah said with an apologetic smile, “But…”

Her eyes followed his, and they led straight to you. She laughed, though he could tell she was a little disappointed. 

“I should’ve known.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder, “She’s been wondering when you’d come back. I think your booth’s empty if you’re heading over there.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Thanks.” 

Lila gave him a smile, gently squeezing his arm, before turning around to head back into the crows. But Noah just managed to call out,

“Wait!” 

She slowly turned around, and Noah was already reaching into his pocket for his wallet, then he handed her a little stack of bills. 

“Have a good night.” 

…

Noah sat in the secluded booth that had somehow become his over the past year, he had his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey that he’d been nursing for the past ten minutes while he watched you. 

You had no idea he was there, or maybe you did, he couldn’t tell. Still, he didn’t wave or try to catch your eye. He didn’t want to pull your attention away from your work. Not when this was your stage, your time, he was quite content to sit in the dark corner with his drink, letting his thoughts start to slow down.

And like usual in this place, he completely lost track of time. It was impossible not to when you would spin so effortlessly beneath the lights, when the way you moved your hips were hypnotic. He sank back into his seat, his legs spread beneath the table as his fingers tapped against his glass. 

Then before he knew it, your set was over. He watched you flash that professional smile before disappearing behind the velvet curtain at the back of the stage. He smiled to himself, then finally took another sip of his drink, which had now been watered down by the melted ice, though he didn’t mind. 

He was too busy imagining you backstage with the other girls, kicking off the towering heels for a few blessed minutes, complaining to the other girls about how your feet hurt- he’d heard that complaint from you enough times. He imagined you touching up your makeup, fixing your hair, drinking half a bottle of water in one go.

“So you finally remembered where we keep the door.” A warm and teasing voice spoke. "I thought maybe you found a better club."

He suddenly looked up, and there you were. Your lipstick had been reapplied, though it was a little smudged on the bottom, the pretty little outfit you had on had been covered up by an oversized black zip up hoodie, the hood pulled up over your head while the sleeves drowned you. And clearly you were giving your feet a break, since you were walking around in a pair of fluffy pink sliders. 

You looked human, like a regular person, not the dazzling performer he and everyone else had just watched on the stage. 

You slid into the booth, letting out a sigh as you sat down, resting your feet in his lap. But when you looked at him properly… your smiled disappeared. 

“Jesus, Noah.” You winced. 

“What?”

“You look like shit.” 

He scoffed, setting his glass back down onto the table. 

“Wow, thanks. Here I was thinking you were coming over to say welcome home.” 

You smiled, tilting your head.

“Where have you been?” You asked softly, and he rubbed his eyes. 

“Europe. Got back two hours ago.” 

“And you came straight here?”

He nodded. 

“I showered first, didn’t think you’d want me smelling like airports.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Well, thank you for that.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the effort.” He smirked. 

“I do.” You nudged one of his knees gently with your slipper. “You look a lot cleaner than the last time you stumbled in after a flight.”

He smiled, the corners of his tired eyes softening. God, he’d missed this, he missed someone talking to him like he was just… Noah.

You studied him for another second, then your smile faded and your voice softened. 

“How long have you actually been awake?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Noah.”

“Well, I slept for maybe…” He squinted as he thought. “Fifteen minutes on the plane?”

You frowned. Poor thing. He looked so tired and so tense, and instead of being tucked up in bed he was here. You didn’t wonder why, you knew exactly why he was here, even if he never told you. 

You leaned back into the booth, stretching one arm over the backrest before glancing towards the stage

“Y’know, I’m on my break at the moment. I’ve got about…” You checked the clock mounted above the bar. “Forty minutes until I gotta go back out there. There was a guy asking if I could give his friend a private dance.” You looked back at him, and he was nodding slowly. “And I was going to spend it backstage until I saw you.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, and thoughtfully tapped your long nails against the table. “Y'know... one of our private rooms are empty.”

His eyebrow lifted as he picked his glass back up. 

“And you look like you could use a dance.” You added.

He smiled into his whiskey.

“I probably could.”

You watched him for another second, thinking something over in your mind. 

“…Or.” You rested your chin in your palm. “I could give you a massage instead. You look pretty tense.”

He scoffed. 

“You’re telling me. I’ve spent six weeks sleeping in a tour bus.”

You frowned. 

“Must be pretty hard for a big guy like you,” you half teased, “I’m guessing the plane wasn’t much better?”

He shook his head. 

“I can tell.” You said softly, “I’ve got some massage oil in my locker.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You do?”

“My back gets tight after dancing.” You sighed.

“Huh.” He hummed. “You offer this to everyone?”

You laughed outright.

“God, no.” You shook your head, “I’d never get any work done.”

He smiled.

“So why me?”

You met his eyes, not sure how to answer that without getting too soppy with it.

“I guess it’s just your lucky day.” You smirked, before reaching over to touch his tense shoulder, “I think I know just what you need.”

He smiled, small and tired, but grateful. 

“Thanks. That sounds good.”

You pushed yourself up from the booth, pulling your hoodie down so it covered your ass.

“Go upstairs, room three,” you instructed, “I’ll grab the oil from my locker, I’ll just be two minutes.”

He nodded, already reaching for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

You looked almost offended.

“Noah.”

“What?”

“I’m on my break.”

“I know, but-”

“No.” You folded your arms. “This one’s not work.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you pointed a finger at him before he could. 

“Don’t.”

A reluctant laugh escaped him.

“I wasn’t going to.”

You rolled your eyes fondly.

“The only thing you owe me… is keeping this a secret.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. 

You turned towards the staff corridor, then glanced back over your shoulder with a smile.

“And Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

…

Room three was at the end of the corridor, far enough from the main floor that the music had softened and you could just hear the bass thump through the walls.

Noah had barely been inside for thirty seconds before he heard the quiet knock, then the door opened just enough for you to step in.

“Sorry,” you smiled. “One of the girls cornered me to complain about a customer.”

He chuckled.

“It’s okay.”

You nudged the door shut with your foot before holding up a pair of heels that looked more like a torture device.

“So, I have a very important question.”

Noah tilted his head. 

“I’m listening.”

You lifted the heels slightly.

“Do you want me to look…” You made little quotation marks with your fingers. “‘Professional.’ Y’know, lingerie and heels.”

Then you liften and wiggled one foot in the fluffy pink sliders you were already wearing.

“Or… do you mind if I stay like this?”

Noah looked at the heels, then at your hoodie, then at the slippers.

“Is that even a question?”

“Your massage, your choice.” You shrugged. 

He laughed softly.

“You’re on your break, sweetheart. You’ve been working all evening, I’d rather you were comfortable.”

A smile spread slowly across your face.

“I knew I liked you.”

“You weren’t sure before?”

“I was about… seventy percent sure.”

“Only seventy?”

“Yup. Congratulations.” You tossed the heels onto the armchair in the corner dramatically. “You’ve just earned the remaining thirty.”

He laughed, the sound warm enough to make your heart squeeze. Then you walked over to the small table and set the bottle of massage oil down beside a folded towel. Then you looked back at him.

“Okay.” You clapped your hands together once. “Get your ass over here, pretty boy.”

He raised an eyebrow as he wandered over. 

“Bossing me around already?” 

“Mm, I know you love it.” You smirked, pointing down at the plush red L-shaped couch. “Sit.”

Noah huffed a laugh, but still obeyed. He lowered himself onto the corner of the couch with a groan, and in here you could see him better. The dark circles under his eyes were impossible to miss, and there was still that tightness in his shoulders, like he didn’t know how to let them relax. 

You stepped in between his knees, studying him for a second as a frown tugged at your mouth. 

“Wow, you really do look rough.” 

“Aren’t you just full of compliments tonight.” Noah scoffed, a playful smile on his lips. 

You ignored that, and instead reached for his baseball cap, and lifted it from his head, setting it on the table beside the bottle of oil. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, flattened from drying beneath the cap. 

“That’s better.” You smiled. 

You watched as his expression suddenly changed, he almost looked a little shy, and his hand started to rise towards his hair. 

“Nope.” You stopped him, catching his wrist before he could fix it. 

“It’s a mess.” He chuckled. 

“Well, in that case,” you settled onto one of his thighs, facing him, “Can I fix it?”

His eyes met yours, and his voice softened, like he’d been caught off guard. 

“...Yeah.” 

You smiled, and slowly slid your fingers into the dark strands at the back of his head, combing through his hair. As you did so, your long nails scratched gently at his scalp- and Noah’s reaction was immediate. His eyes fell shut, and a long breath escaped him. 

“Oh…” He let out a breathy moan. 

A tiny smile spread across your face as your hands slowly moved up his head, now brushing through the top of his hair. 

“That feel good?” You asked. 

“Mm… don’t stop.” 

You laughed softly and continued, your fingers slowly and gently moving through his hair. Little by little, you felt the tension leave him, his jaw relaxed and his head tipped forward ever so slightly, leaning into your touch.without even noticing. 

Then when you were finally satisfied, you brushed one last strand back from his forehead. 

“Much better,” you smiled, then carefully got up off his lap, “Alright, take your shirt off.” 

He couldn’t help but grin as he reached for the hem. 

“Remind me which one of us works at the strip club?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, as he pulled it up over his head in one motion before dropping it onto the arm of the couch.

You opened your mouth to say something… but nothing came out. 

…Oh. Wow. 

You’d seen him come in wearing tank tops before, the occasional tight t-shirt… but nothing could’ve prepared you for this. 

He wasn’t enormous, he didn’t look intimidating. He just looked… strong and masculine. Comfortably and naturally. His big broad shoulders tapered into a slutty little waist (sorry), his arms defined from years of lifting equipment instead of chasing impossible proportions at the gym. There were tattoos across his chest and stomach, your eyes drifted over them before settling on the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

He looked like he took care of himself.

Maybe not as obsessively as some of the other guys you’d seen in here, who make their muscles and bodies their whole personality. But you could tell he put work into his body anyway. 

“You okay?” His voice pulled you back.

You suddenly met his eyes.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

Heat crept into your cheeks.

“Yeah…” A laugh escaped you. “I wasn’t expecting…”

He looked down at himself, confused as to what you’re laughing at.

“What?”

“You look…” You searched for a word that didn’t sound ridiculous. “…really good.”

He gave an awkward little shrug.

“I’ve definitely looked better.”

You shook your head. 

“You know what’s funny?” You asked. 

“What?”

“I’m used to people staring at me. It’s literally my job.”

He nodded slowly, and you smiled to yourself. 

“It’s kind of nice that the tables have turned for once.” You added. 

A soft flush appeared across the tops of his cheeks.

“You’ve made me self-conscious now.” He said, half joking. 

“I promise I’m not judging you.” You insisted, “You’re just… wow.” 

Without thinking, your fingertips hovered near one of the letters tattooed just below his chest, then you paused.

“Can I?”

He glanced down at your hand before nodding.

“Yeah.”

Your fingertips rested lightly against his skin, tracing the edge of the ink with a featherlight touch. Then his stomach tightened involuntarily beneath your hand, and you immediately looked up.

“Sorry.”

“No.” A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m just…”

“Ticklish?” You smirked. 

“...A little.” He said quietly. 

You smiled warmly.

“Wow, Noah Sebastian's ticklish?”

“Don’t go spreading that around.”

“I don’t know…” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “It’s kind of adorable.”

He groaned.

“I liked you better five minutes ago when you were being nice.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, remembering you were on a time limit. So you turned to pick up the massage oil. 

“Lay flat for me, on your stomach.” 

He obeyed without another word, and you took a step closer to the couch. You then shrugged off your hoodie, not wanting to cover it in oil. 

“Alright.” You said as you tossed it on top of Noah’s tshirt. 

He looked back over his shoulder at you. 

“If anything hurts, tell me. I’m not a professional, so promise you won’t sue me or the club if… I dunno, I break your shoulder or something.”

“I promise.” He laughed, folding his arms and resting his head on them. 

You looked at the couch… then at him… then at the couch. 

“…This is going to be awkward.” You said under your breath. 

“What is?”

“The angle.”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t really reach your shoulders from here, not comfortably at least, so...” You sighed dramatically. “I’m going to have to climb up there.”

“Up there?” 

“On you.” You clarified. 

He bit back a smile.

“I have complete faith in you.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t.”

He heard you muttering to yourself as you tried to work out the least ridiculous way to do it.

“Left knee… no… that’s worse.” 

Finally, you carefully climbed onto the couch behind him, balancing yourself with one hand on the backrest.

“This feels very undignified.”

“I wish I could see what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

Another second of shuffling followed…

“There.” You settled yourself down rather comfortably on his butt, your knees on either side of his hips. The position felt quite ridiculous, but it gave you the perfect leverage to reach his broad shoulders. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“…Are you comfortable?”

“I think so.” You smiled, pouring a little oil into your hands, warming it between your palms before reaching for his shoulders. 

“You ready?”

“Mhm.” He nodded into his arms.

Your thumbs pressed gently into the muscles beside his neck, and you immediately felt how tight they were. You worked slowly, using steady pressure rather than force, following the lines of muscle across his upper back. You didn’t realise you were rocking your hips with every movement, but Noah suddenly went very still. 

Every time you leaned forward to put more pressure into your hands, your hips roled, pressing your warm core firmly against the curve of his ass. After a couple of minutes, you felt him move underneath you, his muscles tensing instead of relaxing. 

“You okay down there?” You asked, still rocking slightly as you massaged lower down his back.

Noah’s voice came out a little strained.

“…Yeah. Just… keep going.”

You smiled, completely unaware of this effect you were having on him right now. Your hips continued to roll with the rhythm of the massage, rubbing your barely covered pussy against him over and over. The thin fabric of your thong did almost nothing to hide how warm you felt against him, even through his jeans.

Noah’s hands clenched into fists. His cock was now fully hard, trapped underneath him and grinding against the couch with every little movement you made. The pressure was driving him insane, and he wasn’t even sure you were doing it on purpose. 

You leaned forward again, your breasts brushing against his back this time as you worked on his spine, and let out a soft, focused hum.

“God, your back is so tight…”

Noah let out a quiet, broken sound that he tried (and failed) to disguise as a normal groan. Then, you finally sat back on his butt, still straddling him, and gently patted his side.

“Alright, big guy. Time to flip over. I wanna do your front too.”

Noah didn’t move right away.

“…Uh, okay. Maybe give me a second.” He mumbled into his arm, his voice hoarse.

You tilted your head, curiously.

“Why?” You chuckled.

He let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Because if I turn over right now, you’re going to see exactly what your little massage has done to me.”

A wicked smirk spread across your face. 

“Oh really?” You purred, “You got hard from me sitting on you like this and rubbing your back? Poor baby, were you that wound up?”

“You’ve been rocking your hips on me for the last five minutes,” he rasped, fingers digging into the couch, “What the fuck did you expect?” 

You laughed softly, biting your lip as you leaned forward, pressing your tits against his back while your hands slid down his sides. 

“Mm, I bet your dick's aching, huh?” You whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “Trapped underneath you, where you can’t touch it… bet you wish it was my hand wrapped around it, hm?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Noah grumbled, but there was no real complaint in his voice, just strained arousal. 

“I am,” you smirked, sitting up straight and giving his ass a playful squeeze with your thighs. “It’s not every day I get to make a big, sexy guy like you this desperate just by giving him a back massage.” 

You finally climbed off of him, wiping your hands with the folded towel on the table, then looked back over at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

“C’mon, turn over for me,” you said, tapping his side, “Let me see what I did to you.” 

Noah hesitated for a second, then slowly rolled onto his back. And the moment he did, the very obvious, very thick bulge in his jeans was impossible to ignore. Your eyes widened before you let out a delighted little laugh. 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring at him openly, “This all for me, huh?”

You reached out and trailed one finger lightly over up the length of his bulge, not enough pressure to satisfy, just enough to tease. And his hips twitched, a quiet curse slipping his lips. 

“Baby…” He warned, his eyes dark. 

But you just smirked, and swung your leg around him so you straddled him again. You settled your weight on him and slowly rolled your hips forward, grinding your barely covered pussy along the thick length of his cock through his jeans, and you had to bite your lip as your clit rubbed so deliciously against him. 

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying your massage.” You teased, your voice sweet as you started working your hands over his chest and shoulders again. Your thumbs circled his pecs, brushing over his nipples while your hips kept up that slow rhythm.

Noah’s hands flexed at his sides, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his restraint, and he tried to keep his hands off of you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He warned. 

You leaned down, pressing your tits against his chest as you massaged his shoulders, rolling your hips in a way that dragged your pussy right over the head of his cock with every movement.

“Am I?” You asked innocently, lips brushing his collarbone. “I’m just trying to be nice and help you relax all these tight, hard muscles…”

You sat up again, bracing your hands on his chest as you started rocking harder, grinding down on him with more pressure. The friction was perfect- your clit rubbing against his bulge over and over while you pretended to focus on massaging his abs. You almost forgot that you shouldn't be doing this here.

Noah’s breathing grew ragged. His cock throbbed hard beneath you, leaking precum into his boxers.

“Fuck… baby,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

You bit your lip and rolled your hips even slower, dragging your wet pussy along his entire length.

“Good,” you whispered, voice dripping with the teasing sweetness you know how to do so well. “I want to feel how much you like it.”

You kept going, grinding and rolling and pressing down harder with every pass, your own breathing getting heavier as you worked yourself against him. Your hands never stopped moving, sliding over his chest, his tummy, his shoulders, all while you rode his clothed cock like you were in his bed instead of a private room at the work.

Noah’s hands finally snapped up, making you jump as he gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh to stop your movement completely.

“Sorry- fuck, stop moving,” he rasped, his voice strained and desperate. His cock was twitching beneath you, and he felt right on the edge. “I’m serious. I’m about two seconds away from cumming in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

You looked down at him with a satisfied little smirk, still gently rocking despite his tight grip.

“Aww, poor thing,” you cooed, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You really are that worked up, huh? Just from me sitting on your lap and giving you a massage?”

Noah let out a shaky breath, thumbs stroking your hips even as he held you still.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Keep teasing me like this and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, and with one last kiss to his neck, you pressed your finger to his lips as if to shush him. 

“Not a sound. Sit up.” You instructed as you stood yourself. 

You turned your back to him for a moment as you gathered your hair and tied it into a ponytail. Then you turned back around, and dropped gracefully to your knees between his spread thighs. You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you warned him as your fingers already started working his zipper, “If anyone finds out I did this- any of this- I could lose my job.” 

Noah nodded quickly, his jaw clenched and eyes half lidded as he watched you. 

You pulled his cock free from his trousers. He was rock hard, big, thick and heavy, the head already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base and gave him one slow, firm stroke, watching his thighs tense.

Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth.

Noah’s head fell back against the back of couch, a silent, strangled groan caught in his throat as you started sucking him, slow, wet, and sloppy. You took him as deep as you could, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat, then pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock.

You looked up at him again, eyes watery but determined, and whispered,

“Not a sound, Noah. Or I stop.”

Noah nodded desperately, biting his lip hard.

You immediately went back down, taking him deeper this time. Loud, wet, filthy sounds filled the private room as you bobbed your head fast. Spit ran down his thick shaft messily, dripping onto his balls while you worked him.

You pulled off just long enough to look up into his eyes and spit on his cock, then stroked him fast and tight while your tongue swirled around the sensitive head, licking up every drop of precum like it was your favourite little treat.

“Fuck… baby-” Noah choked out in a broken whisper, one hand flying to your ponytail.

You moaned around his cock in response, the vibration making his hips jerk. Then you pushed yourself further, relaxing your throat and sinking all the way down until your nose nuzzled against his pelvis. You held him there, your throat fluttering and squeezing around him, glossy lips stretched wide around the base of his cock.

Noah’s whole body tensed, and his thighs started shaking.

You pulled back with a gasp, strings of thick spit connecting your mouth to his cock, leaving a ring of sparkly lips gloss at his base, then you immediately went back to sucking him hard and fast- sloppy, messy, and just straight up pornographic. Your hand stroked the base in time with your mouth while your other hand gently rolled and squeezed his heavy balls.

Fuck, Noah was losing it. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, fingers tightening almost painfully in your hair as he fought to stay quiet and in control. His cock throbbed on your tongue, leaking constantly, then you looked up at him with teary, cockdrunk eyes and moaned again, sucking harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him as deep as you could.

And that was all it took. Barely three minutes after you’d started, Noah’s hips rutted and his grip on your hair turned almost painful.

“I’m- shit, I’m cumming-” He gasped, his strained voice barely a whisper.

You moaned eagerly and pushed him deep into your throat just as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled down your throat as his cock throbbed in your mouth. You swallowed around him greedily, milking every drop while he trembled and whimpered quietly above you. Even after he finished, you kept sucking gently, cleaning him up with soft and lazy licks until he was twitching and oversensitive.

When you finally pulled off, you wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb and looked up at him with a wicked little smile.

“Already?” You teased softly, your voice sweet and mocking. “I thought big rockstars like you had better stamina than that, baby. You came so fast… did my mouth feel that good?”

Noah let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh, dragging a hand down his flushed face.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, still trying to catch his breath. “Absolute fucking evil.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his softening cock before tucking him back into his pants.

“Worth every penny you’re about to spend on me tonight, though… right?” 

Noah sat up slowly, his eyes still dark and hungry as he looked at you kneeling between his legs. He cupped your face with one big hand, his thumb brushing over your swollen, glossy lips.

“Come home with me instead,” he said, his voice rough. “Right now. Fuck the rest of your shift.”

You bit your lip, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Noah… I would but I promised this guy a lap dance in like five minutes. I can’t just-”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, leaning forward so his forehead rested against yours. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay triple what he was going to give you. I’ll cover all your house fees for the whole night, plus whatever tip you would’ve made. Fuck it, I’ll even pay the club an extra 2k if it means they’ll let you leave early..”

You raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by how quickly and casually he was throwing out numbers.

“Noah… that’s a lot of money.” You said as you stood up, only to be pulled down into his lap again. 

“I don’t care,” he said immediately, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw. “I’ve been stuck on a fucking tour bus for six weeks jerking off to the thought of you every night. I just came down your throat in under three minutes like a desperate loser. I need to return the favour. I need you tonight. All night. In my bed. On my tongue. Riding my cock until sunrise.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours as he kept talking.

“I promise I’ll make it worth it for you, princess. Five thousand. Six if you want. Whatever it takes so you can walk out that door with me right now and not worry about losing money.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip, hsi eyes burning into yours. “So what do you say? Let me spoil you properly. Come home with me tonight and I promise I’ll take care of everything- the club, the money, you. All of it.”

You felt heat pool between your legs at how insistent and generous he was being. The way he was willing to throw money at the situation just to have you. So you smiled slowly, leaning in to kiss him.

“Okay,” you whispered against his mouth. “I’ll go tell everyone I’m sick or something. Give me five minutes.”

Noah’s grip on your hips tightened, and he kissed you harder, deep and possessive.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Noah stood in the shower with one hand braced against the black tile wall, his head bowed as hot water ran down the back of his neck. Steam filled the bathroom like fog, blurring the full body mirror opposite the glass. 

Good. He didn’t particularly want to look at himself right now. Not after eight hours on a red-eye flight from London while his body ran on nothing but a cheap protein bar and two coffees. He hadn’t slept, he couldn’t sleep, and his body couldn’t even tell what time it was anymore. 

He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as the water ran through his hair before spiralling down the drain, carrying away the smell of airplane and weeks spent living out of a suitcase. His muscles ached from sleeping in cramped bunks on the tour buses, hauling heavy luggage through terminals and sitting in vans and planes for hours on end. 

He straightened up and rolled one shoulder, letting out a groan when it cracked loudly. 

So fucking old. He thought to himself. Though thirty wasn’t old, not in the slightest, it just felt that way after six weeks on the road, travelling through Europe. 

He landed just less than an hour ago, and he dropped his bags by the front door and immediately headed into the bathroom. He’d deal with unpacking later, he’d deal with missed calls and emails and whatever else was waiting for him later. 

After shutting off the shower, he finally noticed just how quiet his apartment (penthouse, he’s just humble) was. He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water disappearing into the expensive rug beneath his feet as he made his way into the kitchen. The place looked exactly how he’d left it, spotless, almost too clean- despite him telling his cleaner not to bother coming while he was on tour, but still paid her anyway. 

He stopped beside the kitchen island, and opened the fridge. Inside, he found a couple bottled waters, half a lemon and expired oat milk. He stared at it for a moment before shutting the door again. 

Food could wait. Everything could wait. 

He shook his head, and was about to make his way to the bedroom when his phone buzzed on the counter. 

Davis: Land safe?

He unlocked his phone and typed with tired fingers. 

Noah: Yeah. Got back an hour ago. 

Davis: Good. Get some rest dude, you deserve it 

He huffed a humourless laugh and tossed his phone back onto the counter. 

If only it worked like that. 

He knew he needed sleep, he was exhausted, every muscle in his body was screaming for rest, his eyelids burned and his head felt heavy… but he knew himself too well. If he climbed into bed right now, he’d stare up at the ceiling, eventually reach for his phone and scroll through twitter, reading comments he shouldn’t read. Maybe eventually he’d move into the studio and open up his laptop, start tweaking some demos for the next album, then start panicking about the next album. Worrying whether it’s good enough, thinking about streams and people’s expectations until the pressure would send him into a spiral. 

His brain didn’t know how to stop when he was at home, or at least not on it’s own. 

So he dragged his suitcase into the bedroom, and dropped it onto the bed. He dug through it until he pulled out a pair of black jeans, a tshirt that didn’t cling to him, and a pair of boxers that he hoped were clean. He quickly got dressed and half heartedly dried his hair with his towel before reaching for his black baseball cap that had dropped onto the floor. 

He caught his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted it on his head- his bloodshot eyes and dark circles, the way tour seemed to physically age him another thirty years. 

He just stared at himself for a moment before his eye caught his suitcase in the reflection. He should stay home, he should unpack, he knew that. Any sensible person would’ve climbed into bed and slept for twelve hours… instead, Noah found himself wandering towards the front door and reaching for his car keys. 

Because there was only one thing he could think about during the entire flight home. Not his bed, not the new album, not even seeing his friends. It was you. 

He didn’t have your number, he never asked for it, it never felt right, because everything about the two of you existed within the walls of the club. There was something comforting about that, though. There were no expectations, no texts late at night, no need to wonder if he was bothering you on your day off. He just had to turn up to the club, walk through the doors and you were there. 

But sometimes you weren’t. 

And if you weren’t, he’d nurse a whiskey, chat to the bartender for a while, tip the girls who came over to say hello then head home. But he knew that wouldn’t be the case tonight, since he knew for sure that you were working. Before he left for Europe, the bartender told him that you’d picked up Thursdays now that one of the other girls had left. So before he even left for the tour, he knew exactly where he’d be on the night he came home. 

He barely remembered getting in his car, but now he was at the club, walking up the door with his head down.

“Look who finally decided to come home!” The bouncer grinned, making Noah look up and give a tired smile. 

“It’s been a long six weeks.” Noah sighed, and the bouncer nodded his head before stepping aside to let him through. 

“Good to have you back.” 

“Good to be back.” He said with a nod, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. 

But it didn’t matter anymore once he stepped inside, the smell of perfume, cologne and alcohol all mixed together as coloured lights swept across the room. Nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone, everything was still in the same place, they were still playing the same music, the same bartender was polishing glasses behind the counter. 

He let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, then his eyes found you. You were on the stage, you must’ve been halfway through your first set tonight. 

He smiled to himself when he saw what you were wearing. The most gorgeous lacey lilac two piece that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He wondered just how many outfits you had, since last time you were in emerald, and before that it was red, baby pink, silver, and he could never forget when you were in black the first time he came here.

You looked beautiful as ever tonight. Your hair was even curled, and it gently bounced as you moved beneath the lights. The crowd was eating it up- there were a group of businessmen at the front who looked hypnotised, and a couple guys he guessed were rather drunk, throwing handfuls of bills onto the stage. 

You gave a polite smile, gracious and professional as you twirled around the pole again. Oh how he had missed watching you…

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite rockstar.” Noah looked over to see one of the girls who worked here, Lila, smiling brightly and looping an arm loosely through his. “You’ve been gone forever.” 

“Six weeks.” He nodded. 

“See,” she pouted, “Forever!” 

He laughed softly, a warm smile creeping onto his lips. 

“Good to see you.” He said. 

“You too.” She said, before stepping back to take a proper look at him. “...Shit. You look exhausted.” 

“I am.” He quietly admitted. 

“You want some company?” She asked casually. And there was no pressure, because she knew the answer already. 

“I appreciate it,” Noah said with an apologetic smile, “But…”

Her eyes followed his, and they led straight to you. She laughed, though he could tell she was a little disappointed. 

“I should’ve known.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder, “She’s been wondering when you’d come back. I think your booth’s empty if you’re heading over there.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Thanks.” 

Lila gave him a smile, gently squeezing his arm, before turning around to head back into the crows. But Noah just managed to call out,

“Wait!” 

She slowly turned around, and Noah was already reaching into his pocket for his wallet, then he handed her a little stack of bills. 

“Have a good night.” 

…

Noah sat in the secluded booth that had somehow become his over the past year, he had his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey that he’d been nursing for the past ten minutes while he watched you. 

You had no idea he was there, or maybe you did, he couldn’t tell. Still, he didn’t wave or try to catch your eye. He didn’t want to pull your attention away from your work. Not when this was your stage, your time, he was quite content to sit in the dark corner with his drink, letting his thoughts start to slow down.

And like usual in this place, he completely lost track of time. It was impossible not to when you would spin so effortlessly beneath the lights, when the way you moved your hips were hypnotic. He sank back into his seat, his legs spread beneath the table as his fingers tapped against his glass. 

Then before he knew it, your set was over. He watched you flash that professional smile before disappearing behind the velvet curtain at the back of the stage. He smiled to himself, then finally took another sip of his drink, which had now been watered down by the melted ice, though he didn’t mind. 

He was too busy imagining you backstage with the other girls, kicking off the towering heels for a few blessed minutes, complaining to the other girls about how your feet hurt- he’d heard that complaint from you enough times. He imagined you touching up your makeup, fixing your hair, drinking half a bottle of water in one go.

“So you finally remembered where we keep the door.” A warm and teasing voice spoke. "I thought maybe you found a better club."

He suddenly looked up, and there you were. Your lipstick had been reapplied, though it was a little smudged on the bottom, the pretty little outfit you had on had been covered up by an oversized black zip up hoodie, the hood pulled up over your head while the sleeves drowned you. And clearly you were giving your feet a break, since you were walking around in a pair of fluffy pink sliders. 

You looked human, like a regular person, not the dazzling performer he and everyone else had just watched on the stage. 

You slid into the booth, letting out a sigh as you sat down, resting your feet in his lap. But when you looked at him properly… your smiled disappeared. 

“Jesus, Noah.” You winced. 

“What?”

“You look like shit.” 

He scoffed, setting his glass back down onto the table. 

“Wow, thanks. Here I was thinking you were coming over to say welcome home.” 

You smiled, tilting your head.

“Where have you been?” You asked softly, and he rubbed his eyes. 

“Europe. Got back two hours ago.” 

“And you came straight here?”

He nodded. 

“I showered first, didn’t think you’d want me smelling like airports.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Well, thank you for that.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the effort.” He smirked. 

“I do.” You nudged one of his knees gently with your slipper. “You look a lot cleaner than the last time you stumbled in after a flight.”

He smiled, the corners of his tired eyes softening. God, he’d missed this, he missed someone talking to him like he was just… Noah.

You studied him for another second, then your smile faded and your voice softened. 

“How long have you actually been awake?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Noah.”

“Well, I slept for maybe…” He squinted as he thought. “Fifteen minutes on the plane?”

You frowned. Poor thing. He looked so tired and so tense, and instead of being tucked up in bed he was here. You didn’t wonder why, you knew exactly why he was here, even if he never told you. 

You leaned back into the booth, stretching one arm over the backrest before glancing towards the stage

“Y’know, I’m on my break at the moment. I’ve got about…” You checked the clock mounted above the bar. “Forty minutes until I gotta go back out there. There was a guy asking if I could give his friend a private dance.” You looked back at him, and he was nodding slowly. “And I was going to spend it backstage until I saw you.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, and thoughtfully tapped your long nails against the table. “Y'know... one of our private rooms are empty.”

His eyebrow lifted as he picked his glass back up. 

“And you look like you could use a dance.” You added.

He smiled into his whiskey.

“I probably could.”

You watched him for another second, thinking something over in your mind. 

“…Or.” You rested your chin in your palm. “I could give you a massage instead. You look pretty tense.”

He scoffed. 

“You’re telling me. I’ve spent six weeks sleeping in a tour bus.”

You frowned. 

“Must be pretty hard for a big guy like you,” you half teased, “I’m guessing the plane wasn’t much better?”

He shook his head. 

“I can tell.” You said softly, “I’ve got some massage oil in my locker.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You do?”

“My back gets tight after dancing.” You sighed.

“Huh.” He hummed. “You offer this to everyone?”

You laughed outright.

“God, no.” You shook your head, “I’d never get any work done.”

He smiled.

“So why me?”

You met his eyes, not sure how to answer that without getting too soppy with it.

“I guess it’s just your lucky day.” You smirked, before reaching over to touch his tense shoulder, “I think I know just what you need.”

He smiled, small and tired, but grateful. 

“Thanks. That sounds good.”

You pushed yourself up from the booth, pulling your hoodie down so it covered your ass.

“Go upstairs, room three,” you instructed, “I’ll grab the oil from my locker, I’ll just be two minutes.”

He nodded, already reaching for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

You looked almost offended.

“Noah.”

“What?”

“I’m on my break.”

“I know, but-”

“No.” You folded your arms. “This one’s not work.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you pointed a finger at him before he could. 

“Don’t.”

A reluctant laugh escaped him.

“I wasn’t going to.”

You rolled your eyes fondly.

“The only thing you owe me… is keeping this a secret.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. 

You turned towards the staff corridor, then glanced back over your shoulder with a smile.

“And Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

…

Room three was at the end of the corridor, far enough from the main floor that the music had softened and you could just hear the bass thump through the walls.

Noah had barely been inside for thirty seconds before he heard the quiet knock, then the door opened just enough for you to step in.

“Sorry,” you smiled. “One of the girls cornered me to complain about a customer.”

He chuckled.

“It’s okay.”

You nudged the door shut with your foot before holding up a pair of heels that looked more like a torture device.

“So, I have a very important question.”

Noah tilted his head. 

“I’m listening.”

You lifted the heels slightly.

“Do you want me to look…” You made little quotation marks with your fingers. “‘Professional.’ Y’know, lingerie and heels.”

Then you liften and wiggled one foot in the fluffy pink sliders you were already wearing.

“Or… do you mind if I stay like this?”

Noah looked at the heels, then at your hoodie, then at the slippers.

“Is that even a question?”

“Your massage, your choice.” You shrugged. 

He laughed softly.

“You’re on your break, sweetheart. You’ve been working all evening, I’d rather you were comfortable.”

A smile spread slowly across your face.

“I knew I liked you.”

“You weren’t sure before?”

“I was about… seventy percent sure.”

“Only seventy?”

“Yup. Congratulations.” You tossed the heels onto the armchair in the corner dramatically. “You’ve just earned the remaining thirty.”

He laughed, the sound warm enough to make your heart squeeze. Then you walked over to the small table and set the bottle of massage oil down beside a folded towel. Then you looked back at him.

“Okay.” You clapped your hands together once. “Get your ass over here, pretty boy.”

He raised an eyebrow as he wandered over. 

“Bossing me around already?” 

“Mm, I know you love it.” You smirked, pointing down at the plush red L-shaped couch. “Sit.”

Noah huffed a laugh, but still obeyed. He lowered himself onto the corner of the couch with a groan, and in here you could see him better. The dark circles under his eyes were impossible to miss, and there was still that tightness in his shoulders, like he didn’t know how to let them relax. 

You stepped in between his knees, studying him for a second as a frown tugged at your mouth. 

“Wow, you really do look rough.” 

“Aren’t you just full of compliments tonight.” Noah scoffed, a playful smile on his lips. 

You ignored that, and instead reached for his baseball cap, and lifted it from his head, setting it on the table beside the bottle of oil. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, flattened from drying beneath the cap. 

“That’s better.” You smiled. 

You watched as his expression suddenly changed, he almost looked a little shy, and his hand started to rise towards his hair. 

“Nope.” You stopped him, catching his wrist before he could fix it. 

“It’s a mess.” He chuckled. 

“Well, in that case,” you settled onto one of his thighs, facing him, “Can I fix it?”

His eyes met yours, and his voice softened, like he’d been caught off guard. 

“...Yeah.” 

You smiled, and slowly slid your fingers into the dark strands at the back of his head, combing through his hair. As you did so, your long nails scratched gently at his scalp- and Noah’s reaction was immediate. His eyes fell shut, and a long breath escaped him. 

“Oh…” He let out a breathy moan. 

A tiny smile spread across your face as your hands slowly moved up his head, now brushing through the top of his hair. 

“That feel good?” You asked. 

“Mm… don’t stop.” 

You laughed softly and continued, your fingers slowly and gently moving through his hair. Little by little, you felt the tension leave him, his jaw relaxed and his head tipped forward ever so slightly, leaning into your touch.without even noticing. 

Then when you were finally satisfied, you brushed one last strand back from his forehead. 

“Much better,” you smiled, then carefully got up off his lap, “Alright, take your shirt off.” 

He couldn’t help but grin as he reached for the hem. 

“Remind me which one of us works at the strip club?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, as he pulled it up over his head in one motion before dropping it onto the arm of the couch.

You opened your mouth to say something… but nothing came out. 

…Oh. Wow. 

You’d seen him come in wearing tank tops before, the occasional tight t-shirt… but nothing could’ve prepared you for this. 

He wasn’t enormous, he didn’t look intimidating. He just looked… strong and masculine. Comfortably and naturally. His big broad shoulders tapered into a slutty little waist (sorry), his arms defined from years of lifting equipment instead of chasing impossible proportions at the gym. There were tattoos across his chest and stomach, your eyes drifted over them before settling on the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

He looked like he took care of himself.

Maybe not as obsessively as some of the other guys you’d seen in here, who make their muscles and bodies their whole personality. But you could tell he put work into his body anyway. 

“You okay?” His voice pulled you back.

You suddenly met his eyes.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

Heat crept into your cheeks.

“Yeah…” A laugh escaped you. “I wasn’t expecting…”

He looked down at himself, confused as to what you’re laughing at.

“What?”

“You look…” You searched for a word that didn’t sound ridiculous. “…really good.”

He gave an awkward little shrug.

“I’ve definitely looked better.”

You shook your head. 

“You know what’s funny?” You asked. 

“What?”

“I’m used to people staring at me. It’s literally my job.”

He nodded slowly, and you smiled to yourself. 

“It’s kind of nice that the tables have turned for once.” You added. 

A soft flush appeared across the tops of his cheeks.

“You’ve made me self-conscious now.” He said, half joking. 

“I promise I’m not judging you.” You insisted, “You’re just… wow.” 

Without thinking, your fingertips hovered near one of the letters tattooed just below his chest, then you paused.

“Can I?”

He glanced down at your hand before nodding.

“Yeah.”

Your fingertips rested lightly against his skin, tracing the edge of the ink with a featherlight touch. Then his stomach tightened involuntarily beneath your hand, and you immediately looked up.

“Sorry.”

“No.” A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m just…”

“Ticklish?” You smirked. 

“...A little.” He said quietly. 

You smiled warmly.

“Wow, Noah Sebastian's ticklish?”

“Don’t go spreading that around.”

“I don’t know…” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “It’s kind of adorable.”

He groaned.

“I liked you better five minutes ago when you were being nice.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, remembering you were on a time limit. So you turned to pick up the massage oil. 

“Lay flat for me, on your stomach.” 

He obeyed without another word, and you took a step closer to the couch. You then shrugged off your hoodie, not wanting to cover it in oil. 

“Alright.” You said as you tossed it on top of Noah’s tshirt. 

He looked back over his shoulder at you. 

“If anything hurts, tell me. I’m not a professional, so promise you won’t sue me or the club if… I dunno, I break your shoulder or something.”

“I promise.” He laughed, folding his arms and resting his head on them. 

You looked at the couch… then at him… then at the couch. 

“…This is going to be awkward.” You said under your breath. 

“What is?”

“The angle.”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t really reach your shoulders from here, not comfortably at least, so...” You sighed dramatically. “I’m going to have to climb up there.”

“Up there?” 

“On you.” You clarified. 

He bit back a smile.

“I have complete faith in you.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t.”

He heard you muttering to yourself as you tried to work out the least ridiculous way to do it.

“Left knee… no… that’s worse.” 

Finally, you carefully climbed onto the couch behind him, balancing yourself with one hand on the backrest.

“This feels very undignified.”

“I wish I could see what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

Another second of shuffling followed…

“There.” You settled yourself down rather comfortably on his butt, your knees on either side of his hips. The position felt quite ridiculous, but it gave you the perfect leverage to reach his broad shoulders. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“…Are you comfortable?”

“I think so.” You smiled, pouring a little oil into your hands, warming it between your palms before reaching for his shoulders. 

“You ready?”

“Mhm.” He nodded into his arms.

Your thumbs pressed gently into the muscles beside his neck, and you immediately felt how tight they were. You worked slowly, using steady pressure rather than force, following the lines of muscle across his upper back. You didn’t realise you were rocking your hips with every movement, but Noah suddenly went very still. 

Every time you leaned forward to put more pressure into your hands, your hips roled, pressing your warm core firmly against the curve of his ass. After a couple of minutes, you felt him move underneath you, his muscles tensing instead of relaxing. 

“You okay down there?” You asked, still rocking slightly as you massaged lower down his back.

Noah’s voice came out a little strained.

“…Yeah. Just… keep going.”

You smiled, completely unaware of this effect you were having on him right now. Your hips continued to roll with the rhythm of the massage, rubbing your barely covered pussy against him over and over. The thin fabric of your thong did almost nothing to hide how warm you felt against him, even through his jeans.

Noah’s hands clenched into fists. His cock was now fully hard, trapped underneath him and grinding against the couch with every little movement you made. The pressure was driving him insane, and he wasn’t even sure you were doing it on purpose. 

You leaned forward again, your breasts brushing against his back this time as you worked on his spine, and let out a soft, focused hum.

“God, your back is so tight…”

Noah let out a quiet, broken sound that he tried (and failed) to disguise as a normal groan. Then, you finally sat back on his butt, still straddling him, and gently patted his side.

“Alright, big guy. Time to flip over. I wanna do your front too.”

Noah didn’t move right away.

“…Uh, okay. Maybe give me a second.” He mumbled into his arm, his voice hoarse.

You tilted your head, curiously.

“Why?” You chuckled.

He let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Because if I turn over right now, you’re going to see exactly what your little massage has done to me.”

A wicked smirk spread across your face. 

“Oh really?” You purred, “You got hard from me sitting on you like this and rubbing your back? Poor baby, were you that wound up?”

“You’ve been rocking your hips on me for the last five minutes,” he rasped, fingers digging into the couch, “What the fuck did you expect?” 

You laughed softly, biting your lip as you leaned forward, pressing your tits against his back while your hands slid down his sides. 

“Mm, I bet your dick's aching, huh?” You whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “Trapped underneath you, where you can’t touch it… bet you wish it was my hand wrapped around it, hm?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Noah grumbled, but there was no real complaint in his voice, just strained arousal. 

“I am,” you smirked, sitting up straight and giving his ass a playful squeeze with your thighs. “It’s not every day I get to make a big, sexy guy like you this desperate just by giving him a back massage.” 

You finally climbed off of him, wiping your hands with the folded towel on the table, then looked back over at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

“C’mon, turn over for me,” you said, tapping his side, “Let me see what I did to you.” 

Noah hesitated for a second, then slowly rolled onto his back. And the moment he did, the very obvious, very thick bulge in his jeans was impossible to ignore. Your eyes widened before you let out a delighted little laugh. 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring at him openly, “This all for me, huh?”

You reached out and trailed one finger lightly over up the length of his bulge, not enough pressure to satisfy, just enough to tease. And his hips twitched, a quiet curse slipping his lips. 

“Baby…” He warned, his eyes dark. 

But you just smirked, and swung your leg around him so you straddled him again. You settled your weight on him and slowly rolled your hips forward, grinding your barely covered pussy along the thick length of his cock through his jeans, and you had to bite your lip as your clit rubbed so deliciously against him. 

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying your massage.” You teased, your voice sweet as you started working your hands over his chest and shoulders again. Your thumbs circled his pecs, brushing over his nipples while your hips kept up that slow rhythm.

Noah’s hands flexed at his sides, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his restraint, and he tried to keep his hands off of you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He warned. 

You leaned down, pressing your tits against his chest as you massaged his shoulders, rolling your hips in a way that dragged your pussy right over the head of his cock with every movement.

“Am I?” You asked innocently, lips brushing his collarbone. “I’m just trying to be nice and help you relax all these tight, hard muscles…”

You sat up again, bracing your hands on his chest as you started rocking harder, grinding down on him with more pressure. The friction was perfect- your clit rubbing against his bulge over and over while you pretended to focus on massaging his abs. You almost forgot that you shouldn't be doing this here.

Noah’s breathing grew ragged. His cock throbbed hard beneath you, leaking precum into his boxers.

“Fuck… baby,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

You bit your lip and rolled your hips even slower, dragging your wet pussy along his entire length.

“Good,” you whispered, voice dripping with the teasing sweetness you know how to do so well. “I want to feel how much you like it.”

You kept going, grinding and rolling and pressing down harder with every pass, your own breathing getting heavier as you worked yourself against him. Your hands never stopped moving, sliding over his chest, his tummy, his shoulders, all while you rode his clothed cock like you were in his bed instead of a private room at the work.

Noah’s hands finally snapped up, making you jump as he gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh to stop your movement completely.

“Sorry- fuck, stop moving,” he rasped, his voice strained and desperate. His cock was twitching beneath you, and he felt right on the edge. “I’m serious. I’m about two seconds away from cumming in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

You looked down at him with a satisfied little smirk, still gently rocking despite his tight grip.

“Aww, poor thing,” you cooed, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You really are that worked up, huh? Just from me sitting on your lap and giving you a massage?”

Noah let out a shaky breath, thumbs stroking your hips even as he held you still.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Keep teasing me like this and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, and with one last kiss to his neck, you pressed your finger to his lips as if to shush him. 

“Not a sound. Sit up.” You instructed as you stood yourself. 

You turned your back to him for a moment as you gathered your hair and tied it into a ponytail. Then you turned back around, and dropped gracefully to your knees between his spread thighs. You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you warned him as your fingers already started working his zipper, “If anyone finds out I did this- any of this- I could lose my job.” 

Noah nodded quickly, his jaw clenched and eyes half lidded as he watched you. 

You pulled his cock free from his trousers. He was rock hard, big, thick and heavy, the head already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base and gave him one slow, firm stroke, watching his thighs tense.

Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth.

Noah’s head fell back against the back of couch, a silent, strangled groan caught in his throat as you started sucking him, slow, wet, and sloppy. You took him as deep as you could, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat, then pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock.

You looked up at him again, eyes watery but determined, and whispered,

“Not a sound, Noah. Or I stop.”

Noah nodded desperately, biting his lip hard.

You immediately went back down, taking him deeper this time. Loud, wet, filthy sounds filled the private room as you bobbed your head fast. Spit ran down his thick shaft messily, dripping onto his balls while you worked him.

You pulled off just long enough to look up into his eyes and spit on his cock, then stroked him fast and tight while your tongue swirled around the sensitive head, licking up every drop of precum like it was your favourite little treat.

“Fuck… baby-” Noah choked out in a broken whisper, one hand flying to your ponytail.

You moaned around his cock in response, the vibration making his hips jerk. Then you pushed yourself further, relaxing your throat and sinking all the way down until your nose nuzzled against his pelvis. You held him there, your throat fluttering and squeezing around him, glossy lips stretched wide around the base of his cock.

Noah’s whole body tensed, and his thighs started shaking.

You pulled back with a gasp, strings of thick spit connecting your mouth to his cock, leaving a ring of sparkly lips gloss at his base, then you immediately went back to sucking him hard and fast- sloppy, messy, and just straight up pornographic. Your hand stroked the base in time with your mouth while your other hand gently rolled and squeezed his heavy balls.

Fuck, Noah was losing it. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, fingers tightening almost painfully in your hair as he fought to stay quiet and in control. His cock throbbed on your tongue, leaking constantly, then you looked up at him with teary, cockdrunk eyes and moaned again, sucking harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him as deep as you could.

And that was all it took. Barely three minutes after you’d started, Noah’s hips rutted and his grip on your hair turned almost painful.

“I’m- shit, I’m cumming-” He gasped, his strained voice barely a whisper.

You moaned eagerly and pushed him deep into your throat just as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled down your throat as his cock throbbed in your mouth. You swallowed around him greedily, milking every drop while he trembled and whimpered quietly above you. Even after he finished, you kept sucking gently, cleaning him up with soft and lazy licks until he was twitching and oversensitive.

When you finally pulled off, you wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb and looked up at him with a wicked little smile.

“Already?” You teased softly, your voice sweet and mocking. “I thought big rockstars like you had better stamina than that, baby. You came so fast… did my mouth feel that good?”

Noah let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh, dragging a hand down his flushed face.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, still trying to catch his breath. “Absolute fucking evil.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his softening cock before tucking him back into his pants.

“Worth every penny you’re about to spend on me tonight, though… right?” 

Noah sat up slowly, his eyes still dark and hungry as he looked at you kneeling between his legs. He cupped your face with one big hand, his thumb brushing over your swollen, glossy lips.

“Come home with me instead,” he said, his voice rough. “Right now. Fuck the rest of your shift.”

You bit your lip, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Noah… I would but I promised this guy a lap dance in like five minutes. I can’t just-”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, leaning forward so his forehead rested against yours. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay triple what he was going to give you. I’ll cover all your house fees for the whole night, plus whatever tip you would’ve made. Fuck it, I’ll even pay the club an extra 2k if it means they’ll let you leave early..”

You raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by how quickly and casually he was throwing out numbers.

“Noah… that’s a lot of money.” You said as you stood up, only to be pulled down into his lap again. 

“I don’t care,” he said immediately, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw. “I’ve been stuck on a fucking tour bus for six weeks jerking off to the thought of you every night. I just came down your throat in under three minutes like a desperate loser. I need to return the favour. I need you tonight. All night. In my bed. On my tongue. Riding my cock until sunrise.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours as he kept talking.

“I promise I’ll make it worth it for you, princess. Five thousand. Six if you want. Whatever it takes so you can walk out that door with me right now and not worry about losing money.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip, hsi eyes burning into yours. “So what do you say? Let me spoil you properly. Come home with me tonight and I promise I’ll take care of everything- the club, the money, you. All of it.”

You felt heat pool between your legs at how insistent and generous he was being. The way he was willing to throw money at the situation just to have you. So you smiled slowly, leaning in to kiss him.

“Okay,” you whispered against his mouth. “I’ll go tell everyone I’m sick or something. Give me five minutes.”

Noah’s grip on your hips tightened, and he kissed you harder, deep and possessive.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Noah stood in the shower with one hand braced against the black tile wall, his head bowed as hot water ran down the back of his neck. Steam filled the bathroom like fog, blurring the full body mirror opposite the glass. 

Good. He didn’t particularly want to look at himself right now. Not after eight hours on a red-eye flight from London while his body ran on nothing but a cheap protein bar and two coffees. He hadn’t slept, he couldn’t sleep, and his body couldn’t even tell what time it was anymore. 

He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as the water ran through his hair before spiralling down the drain, carrying away the smell of airplane and weeks spent living out of a suitcase. His muscles ached from sleeping in cramped bunks on the tour buses, hauling heavy luggage through terminals and sitting in vans and planes for hours on end. 

He straightened up and rolled one shoulder, letting out a groan when it cracked loudly. 

So fucking old. He thought to himself. Though thirty wasn’t old, not in the slightest, it just felt that way after six weeks on the road, travelling through Europe. 

He landed just less than an hour ago, and he dropped his bags by the front door and immediately headed into the bathroom. He’d deal with unpacking later, he’d deal with missed calls and emails and whatever else was waiting for him later. 

After shutting off the shower, he finally noticed just how quiet his apartment (penthouse, he’s just humble) was. He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water disappearing into the expensive rug beneath his feet as he made his way into the kitchen. The place looked exactly how he’d left it, spotless, almost too clean- despite him telling his cleaner not to bother coming while he was on tour, but still paid her anyway. 

He stopped beside the kitchen island, and opened the fridge. Inside, he found a couple bottled waters, half a lemon and expired oat milk. He stared at it for a moment before shutting the door again. 

Food could wait. Everything could wait. 

He shook his head, and was about to make his way to the bedroom when his phone buzzed on the counter. 

Davis: Land safe?

He unlocked his phone and typed with tired fingers. 

Noah: Yeah. Got back an hour ago. 

Davis: Good. Get some rest dude, you deserve it 

He huffed a humourless laugh and tossed his phone back onto the counter. 

If only it worked like that. 

He knew he needed sleep, he was exhausted, every muscle in his body was screaming for rest, his eyelids burned and his head felt heavy… but he knew himself too well. If he climbed into bed right now, he’d stare up at the ceiling, eventually reach for his phone and scroll through twitter, reading comments he shouldn’t read. Maybe eventually he’d move into the studio and open up his laptop, start tweaking some demos for the next album, then start panicking about the next album. Worrying whether it’s good enough, thinking about streams and people’s expectations until the pressure would send him into a spiral. 

His brain didn’t know how to stop when he was at home, or at least not on it’s own. 

So he dragged his suitcase into the bedroom, and dropped it onto the bed. He dug through it until he pulled out a pair of black jeans, a tshirt that didn’t cling to him, and a pair of boxers that he hoped were clean. He quickly got dressed and half heartedly dried his hair with his towel before reaching for his black baseball cap that had dropped onto the floor. 

He caught his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted it on his head- his bloodshot eyes and dark circles, the way tour seemed to physically age him another thirty years. 

He just stared at himself for a moment before his eye caught his suitcase in the reflection. He should stay home, he should unpack, he knew that. Any sensible person would’ve climbed into bed and slept for twelve hours… instead, Noah found himself wandering towards the front door and reaching for his car keys. 

Because there was only one thing he could think about during the entire flight home. Not his bed, not the new album, not even seeing his friends. It was you. 

He didn’t have your number, he never asked for it, it never felt right, because everything about the two of you existed within the walls of the club. There was something comforting about that, though. There were no expectations, no texts late at night, no need to wonder if he was bothering you on your day off. He just had to turn up to the club, walk through the doors and you were there. 

But sometimes you weren’t. 

And if you weren’t, he’d nurse a whiskey, chat to the bartender for a while, tip the girls who came over to say hello then head home. But he knew that wouldn’t be the case tonight, since he knew for sure that you were working. Before he left for Europe, the bartender told him that you’d picked up Thursdays now that one of the other girls had left. So before he even left for the tour, he knew exactly where he’d be on the night he came home. 

He barely remembered getting in his car, but now he was at the club, walking up the door with his head down.

“Look who finally decided to come home!” The bouncer grinned, making Noah look up and give a tired smile. 

“It’s been a long six weeks.” Noah sighed, and the bouncer nodded his head before stepping aside to let him through. 

“Good to have you back.” 

“Good to be back.” He said with a nod, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. 

But it didn’t matter anymore once he stepped inside, the smell of perfume, cologne and alcohol all mixed together as coloured lights swept across the room. Nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone, everything was still in the same place, they were still playing the same music, the same bartender was polishing glasses behind the counter. 

He let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, then his eyes found you. You were on the stage, you must’ve been halfway through your first set tonight. 

He smiled to himself when he saw what you were wearing. The most gorgeous lacey lilac two piece that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He wondered just how many outfits you had, since last time you were in emerald, and before that it was red, baby pink, silver, and he could never forget when you were in black the first time he came here.

You looked beautiful as ever tonight. Your hair was even curled, and it gently bounced as you moved beneath the lights. The crowd was eating it up- there were a group of businessmen at the front who looked hypnotised, and a couple guys he guessed were rather drunk, throwing handfuls of bills onto the stage. 

You gave a polite smile, gracious and professional as you twirled around the pole again. Oh how he had missed watching you…

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite rockstar.” Noah looked over to see one of the girls who worked here, Lila, smiling brightly and looping an arm loosely through his. “You’ve been gone forever.” 

“Six weeks.” He nodded. 

“See,” she pouted, “Forever!” 

He laughed softly, a warm smile creeping onto his lips. 

“Good to see you.” He said. 

“You too.” She said, before stepping back to take a proper look at him. “...Shit. You look exhausted.” 

“I am.” He quietly admitted. 

“You want some company?” She asked casually. And there was no pressure, because she knew the answer already. 

“I appreciate it,” Noah said with an apologetic smile, “But…”

Her eyes followed his, and they led straight to you. She laughed, though he could tell she was a little disappointed. 

“I should’ve known.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder, “She’s been wondering when you’d come back. I think your booth’s empty if you’re heading over there.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Thanks.” 

Lila gave him a smile, gently squeezing his arm, before turning around to head back into the crows. But Noah just managed to call out,

“Wait!” 

She slowly turned around, and Noah was already reaching into his pocket for his wallet, then he handed her a little stack of bills. 

“Have a good night.” 

…

Noah sat in the secluded booth that had somehow become his over the past year, he had his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey that he’d been nursing for the past ten minutes while he watched you. 

You had no idea he was there, or maybe you did, he couldn’t tell. Still, he didn’t wave or try to catch your eye. He didn’t want to pull your attention away from your work. Not when this was your stage, your time, he was quite content to sit in the dark corner with his drink, letting his thoughts start to slow down.

And like usual in this place, he completely lost track of time. It was impossible not to when you would spin so effortlessly beneath the lights, when the way you moved your hips were hypnotic. He sank back into his seat, his legs spread beneath the table as his fingers tapped against his glass. 

Then before he knew it, your set was over. He watched you flash that professional smile before disappearing behind the velvet curtain at the back of the stage. He smiled to himself, then finally took another sip of his drink, which had now been watered down by the melted ice, though he didn’t mind. 

He was too busy imagining you backstage with the other girls, kicking off the towering heels for a few blessed minutes, complaining to the other girls about how your feet hurt- he’d heard that complaint from you enough times. He imagined you touching up your makeup, fixing your hair, drinking half a bottle of water in one go.

“So you finally remembered where we keep the door.” A warm and teasing voice spoke. "I thought maybe you found a better club."

He suddenly looked up, and there you were. Your lipstick had been reapplied, though it was a little smudged on the bottom, the pretty little outfit you had on had been covered up by an oversized black zip up hoodie, the hood pulled up over your head while the sleeves drowned you. And clearly you were giving your feet a break, since you were walking around in a pair of fluffy pink sliders. 

You looked human, like a regular person, not the dazzling performer he and everyone else had just watched on the stage. 

You slid into the booth, letting out a sigh as you sat down, resting your feet in his lap. But when you looked at him properly… your smiled disappeared. 

“Jesus, Noah.” You winced. 

“What?”

“You look like shit.” 

He scoffed, setting his glass back down onto the table. 

“Wow, thanks. Here I was thinking you were coming over to say welcome home.” 

You smiled, tilting your head.

“Where have you been?” You asked softly, and he rubbed his eyes. 

“Europe. Got back two hours ago.” 

“And you came straight here?”

He nodded. 

“I showered first, didn’t think you’d want me smelling like airports.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Well, thank you for that.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the effort.” He smirked. 

“I do.” You nudged one of his knees gently with your slipper. “You look a lot cleaner than the last time you stumbled in after a flight.”

He smiled, the corners of his tired eyes softening. God, he’d missed this, he missed someone talking to him like he was just… Noah.

You studied him for another second, then your smile faded and your voice softened. 

“How long have you actually been awake?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Noah.”

“Well, I slept for maybe…” He squinted as he thought. “Fifteen minutes on the plane?”

You frowned. Poor thing. He looked so tired and so tense, and instead of being tucked up in bed he was here. You didn’t wonder why, you knew exactly why he was here, even if he never told you. 

You leaned back into the booth, stretching one arm over the backrest before glancing towards the stage

“Y’know, I’m on my break at the moment. I’ve got about…” You checked the clock mounted above the bar. “Forty minutes until I gotta go back out there. There was a guy asking if I could give his friend a private dance.” You looked back at him, and he was nodding slowly. “And I was going to spend it backstage until I saw you.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, and thoughtfully tapped your long nails against the table. “Y'know... one of our private rooms are empty.”

His eyebrow lifted as he picked his glass back up. 

“And you look like you could use a dance.” You added.

He smiled into his whiskey.

“I probably could.”

You watched him for another second, thinking something over in your mind. 

“…Or.” You rested your chin in your palm. “I could give you a massage instead. You look pretty tense.”

He scoffed. 

“You’re telling me. I’ve spent six weeks sleeping in a tour bus.”

You frowned. 

“Must be pretty hard for a big guy like you,” you half teased, “I’m guessing the plane wasn’t much better?”

He shook his head. 

“I can tell.” You said softly, “I’ve got some massage oil in my locker.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You do?”

“My back gets tight after dancing.” You sighed.

“Huh.” He hummed. “You offer this to everyone?”

You laughed outright.

“God, no.” You shook your head, “I’d never get any work done.”

He smiled.

“So why me?”

You met his eyes, not sure how to answer that without getting too soppy with it.

“I guess it’s just your lucky day.” You smirked, before reaching over to touch his tense shoulder, “I think I know just what you need.”

He smiled, small and tired, but grateful. 

“Thanks. That sounds good.”

You pushed yourself up from the booth, pulling your hoodie down so it covered your ass.

“Go upstairs, room three,” you instructed, “I’ll grab the oil from my locker, I’ll just be two minutes.”

He nodded, already reaching for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

You looked almost offended.

“Noah.”

“What?”

“I’m on my break.”

“I know, but-”

“No.” You folded your arms. “This one’s not work.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you pointed a finger at him before he could. 

“Don’t.”

A reluctant laugh escaped him.

“I wasn’t going to.”

You rolled your eyes fondly.

“The only thing you owe me… is keeping this a secret.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. 

You turned towards the staff corridor, then glanced back over your shoulder with a smile.

“And Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

…

Room three was at the end of the corridor, far enough from the main floor that the music had softened and you could just hear the bass thump through the walls.

Noah had barely been inside for thirty seconds before he heard the quiet knock, then the door opened just enough for you to step in.

“Sorry,” you smiled. “One of the girls cornered me to complain about a customer.”

He chuckled.

“It’s okay.”

You nudged the door shut with your foot before holding up a pair of heels that looked more like a torture device.

“So, I have a very important question.”

Noah tilted his head. 

“I’m listening.”

You lifted the heels slightly.

“Do you want me to look…” You made little quotation marks with your fingers. “‘Professional.’ Y’know, lingerie and heels.”

Then you liften and wiggled one foot in the fluffy pink sliders you were already wearing.

“Or… do you mind if I stay like this?”

Noah looked at the heels, then at your hoodie, then at the slippers.

“Is that even a question?”

“Your massage, your choice.” You shrugged. 

He laughed softly.

“You’re on your break, sweetheart. You’ve been working all evening, I’d rather you were comfortable.”

A smile spread slowly across your face.

“I knew I liked you.”

“You weren’t sure before?”

“I was about… seventy percent sure.”

“Only seventy?”

“Yup. Congratulations.” You tossed the heels onto the armchair in the corner dramatically. “You’ve just earned the remaining thirty.”

He laughed, the sound warm enough to make your heart squeeze. Then you walked over to the small table and set the bottle of massage oil down beside a folded towel. Then you looked back at him.

“Okay.” You clapped your hands together once. “Get your ass over here, pretty boy.”

He raised an eyebrow as he wandered over. 

“Bossing me around already?” 

“Mm, I know you love it.” You smirked, pointing down at the plush red L-shaped couch. “Sit.”

Noah huffed a laugh, but still obeyed. He lowered himself onto the corner of the couch with a groan, and in here you could see him better. The dark circles under his eyes were impossible to miss, and there was still that tightness in his shoulders, like he didn’t know how to let them relax. 

You stepped in between his knees, studying him for a second as a frown tugged at your mouth. 

“Wow, you really do look rough.” 

“Aren’t you just full of compliments tonight.” Noah scoffed, a playful smile on his lips. 

You ignored that, and instead reached for his baseball cap, and lifted it from his head, setting it on the table beside the bottle of oil. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, flattened from drying beneath the cap. 

“That’s better.” You smiled. 

You watched as his expression suddenly changed, he almost looked a little shy, and his hand started to rise towards his hair. 

“Nope.” You stopped him, catching his wrist before he could fix it. 

“It’s a mess.” He chuckled. 

“Well, in that case,” you settled onto one of his thighs, facing him, “Can I fix it?”

His eyes met yours, and his voice softened, like he’d been caught off guard. 

“...Yeah.” 

You smiled, and slowly slid your fingers into the dark strands at the back of his head, combing through his hair. As you did so, your long nails scratched gently at his scalp- and Noah’s reaction was immediate. His eyes fell shut, and a long breath escaped him. 

“Oh…” He let out a breathy moan. 

A tiny smile spread across your face as your hands slowly moved up his head, now brushing through the top of his hair. 

“That feel good?” You asked. 

“Mm… don’t stop.” 

You laughed softly and continued, your fingers slowly and gently moving through his hair. Little by little, you felt the tension leave him, his jaw relaxed and his head tipped forward ever so slightly, leaning into your touch.without even noticing. 

Then when you were finally satisfied, you brushed one last strand back from his forehead. 

“Much better,” you smiled, then carefully got up off his lap, “Alright, take your shirt off.” 

He couldn’t help but grin as he reached for the hem. 

“Remind me which one of us works at the strip club?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, as he pulled it up over his head in one motion before dropping it onto the arm of the couch.

You opened your mouth to say something… but nothing came out. 

…Oh. Wow. 

You’d seen him come in wearing tank tops before, the occasional tight t-shirt… but nothing could’ve prepared you for this. 

He wasn’t enormous, he didn’t look intimidating. He just looked… strong and masculine. Comfortably and naturally. His big broad shoulders tapered into a slutty little waist (sorry), his arms defined from years of lifting equipment instead of chasing impossible proportions at the gym. There were tattoos across his chest and stomach, your eyes drifted over them before settling on the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

He looked like he took care of himself.

Maybe not as obsessively as some of the other guys you’d seen in here, who make their muscles and bodies their whole personality. But you could tell he put work into his body anyway. 

“You okay?” His voice pulled you back.

You suddenly met his eyes.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

Heat crept into your cheeks.

“Yeah…” A laugh escaped you. “I wasn’t expecting…”

He looked down at himself, confused as to what you’re laughing at.

“What?”

“You look…” You searched for a word that didn’t sound ridiculous. “…really good.”

He gave an awkward little shrug.

“I’ve definitely looked better.”

You shook your head. 

“You know what’s funny?” You asked. 

“What?”

“I’m used to people staring at me. It’s literally my job.”

He nodded slowly, and you smiled to yourself. 

“It’s kind of nice that the tables have turned for once.” You added. 

A soft flush appeared across the tops of his cheeks.

“You’ve made me self-conscious now.” He said, half joking. 

“I promise I’m not judging you.” You insisted, “You’re just… wow.” 

Without thinking, your fingertips hovered near one of the letters tattooed just below his chest, then you paused.

“Can I?”

He glanced down at your hand before nodding.

“Yeah.”

Your fingertips rested lightly against his skin, tracing the edge of the ink with a featherlight touch. Then his stomach tightened involuntarily beneath your hand, and you immediately looked up.

“Sorry.”

“No.” A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m just…”

“Ticklish?” You smirked. 

“...A little.” He said quietly. 

You smiled warmly.

“Wow, Noah Sebastian's ticklish?”

“Don’t go spreading that around.”

“I don’t know…” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “It’s kind of adorable.”

He groaned.

“I liked you better five minutes ago when you were being nice.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, remembering you were on a time limit. So you turned to pick up the massage oil. 

“Lay flat for me, on your stomach.” 

He obeyed without another word, and you took a step closer to the couch. You then shrugged off your hoodie, not wanting to cover it in oil. 

“Alright.” You said as you tossed it on top of Noah’s tshirt. 

He looked back over his shoulder at you. 

“If anything hurts, tell me. I’m not a professional, so promise you won’t sue me or the club if… I dunno, I break your shoulder or something.”

“I promise.” He laughed, folding his arms and resting his head on them. 

You looked at the couch… then at him… then at the couch. 

“…This is going to be awkward.” You said under your breath. 

“What is?”

“The angle.”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t really reach your shoulders from here, not comfortably at least, so...” You sighed dramatically. “I’m going to have to climb up there.”

“Up there?” 

“On you.” You clarified. 

He bit back a smile.

“I have complete faith in you.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t.”

He heard you muttering to yourself as you tried to work out the least ridiculous way to do it.

“Left knee… no… that’s worse.” 

Finally, you carefully climbed onto the couch behind him, balancing yourself with one hand on the backrest.

“This feels very undignified.”

“I wish I could see what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

Another second of shuffling followed…

“There.” You settled yourself down rather comfortably on his butt, your knees on either side of his hips. The position felt quite ridiculous, but it gave you the perfect leverage to reach his broad shoulders. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“…Are you comfortable?”

“I think so.” You smiled, pouring a little oil into your hands, warming it between your palms before reaching for his shoulders. 

“You ready?”

“Mhm.” He nodded into his arms.

Your thumbs pressed gently into the muscles beside his neck, and you immediately felt how tight they were. You worked slowly, using steady pressure rather than force, following the lines of muscle across his upper back. You didn’t realise you were rocking your hips with every movement, but Noah suddenly went very still. 

Every time you leaned forward to put more pressure into your hands, your hips roled, pressing your warm core firmly against the curve of his ass. After a couple of minutes, you felt him move underneath you, his muscles tensing instead of relaxing. 

“You okay down there?” You asked, still rocking slightly as you massaged lower down his back.

Noah’s voice came out a little strained.

“…Yeah. Just… keep going.”

You smiled, completely unaware of this effect you were having on him right now. Your hips continued to roll with the rhythm of the massage, rubbing your barely covered pussy against him over and over. The thin fabric of your thong did almost nothing to hide how warm you felt against him, even through his jeans.

Noah’s hands clenched into fists. His cock was now fully hard, trapped underneath him and grinding against the couch with every little movement you made. The pressure was driving him insane, and he wasn’t even sure you were doing it on purpose. 

You leaned forward again, your breasts brushing against his back this time as you worked on his spine, and let out a soft, focused hum.

“God, your back is so tight…”

Noah let out a quiet, broken sound that he tried (and failed) to disguise as a normal groan. Then, you finally sat back on his butt, still straddling him, and gently patted his side.

“Alright, big guy. Time to flip over. I wanna do your front too.”

Noah didn’t move right away.

“…Uh, okay. Maybe give me a second.” He mumbled into his arm, his voice hoarse.

You tilted your head, curiously.

“Why?” You chuckled.

He let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Because if I turn over right now, you’re going to see exactly what your little massage has done to me.”

A wicked smirk spread across your face. 

“Oh really?” You purred, “You got hard from me sitting on you like this and rubbing your back? Poor baby, were you that wound up?”

“You’ve been rocking your hips on me for the last five minutes,” he rasped, fingers digging into the couch, “What the fuck did you expect?” 

You laughed softly, biting your lip as you leaned forward, pressing your tits against his back while your hands slid down his sides. 

“Mm, I bet your dick's aching, huh?” You whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “Trapped underneath you, where you can’t touch it… bet you wish it was my hand wrapped around it, hm?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Noah grumbled, but there was no real complaint in his voice, just strained arousal. 

“I am,” you smirked, sitting up straight and giving his ass a playful squeeze with your thighs. “It’s not every day I get to make a big, sexy guy like you this desperate just by giving him a back massage.” 

You finally climbed off of him, wiping your hands with the folded towel on the table, then looked back over at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

“C’mon, turn over for me,” you said, tapping his side, “Let me see what I did to you.” 

Noah hesitated for a second, then slowly rolled onto his back. And the moment he did, the very obvious, very thick bulge in his jeans was impossible to ignore. Your eyes widened before you let out a delighted little laugh. 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring at him openly, “This all for me, huh?”

You reached out and trailed one finger lightly over up the length of his bulge, not enough pressure to satisfy, just enough to tease. And his hips twitched, a quiet curse slipping his lips. 

“Baby…” He warned, his eyes dark. 

But you just smirked, and swung your leg around him so you straddled him again. You settled your weight on him and slowly rolled your hips forward, grinding your barely covered pussy along the thick length of his cock through his jeans, and you had to bite your lip as your clit rubbed so deliciously against him. 

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying your massage.” You teased, your voice sweet as you started working your hands over his chest and shoulders again. Your thumbs circled his pecs, brushing over his nipples while your hips kept up that slow rhythm.

Noah’s hands flexed at his sides, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his restraint, and he tried to keep his hands off of you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He warned. 

You leaned down, pressing your tits against his chest as you massaged his shoulders, rolling your hips in a way that dragged your pussy right over the head of his cock with every movement.

“Am I?” You asked innocently, lips brushing his collarbone. “I’m just trying to be nice and help you relax all these tight, hard muscles…”

You sat up again, bracing your hands on his chest as you started rocking harder, grinding down on him with more pressure. The friction was perfect- your clit rubbing against his bulge over and over while you pretended to focus on massaging his abs. You almost forgot that you shouldn't be doing this here.

Noah’s breathing grew ragged. His cock throbbed hard beneath you, leaking precum into his boxers.

“Fuck… baby,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

You bit your lip and rolled your hips even slower, dragging your wet pussy along his entire length.

“Good,” you whispered, voice dripping with the teasing sweetness you know how to do so well. “I want to feel how much you like it.”

You kept going, grinding and rolling and pressing down harder with every pass, your own breathing getting heavier as you worked yourself against him. Your hands never stopped moving, sliding over his chest, his tummy, his shoulders, all while you rode his clothed cock like you were in his bed instead of a private room at the work.

Noah’s hands finally snapped up, making you jump as he gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh to stop your movement completely.

“Sorry- fuck, stop moving,” he rasped, his voice strained and desperate. His cock was twitching beneath you, and he felt right on the edge. “I’m serious. I’m about two seconds away from cumming in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

You looked down at him with a satisfied little smirk, still gently rocking despite his tight grip.

“Aww, poor thing,” you cooed, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You really are that worked up, huh? Just from me sitting on your lap and giving you a massage?”

Noah let out a shaky breath, thumbs stroking your hips even as he held you still.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Keep teasing me like this and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, and with one last kiss to his neck, you pressed your finger to his lips as if to shush him. 

“Not a sound. Sit up.” You instructed as you stood yourself. 

You turned your back to him for a moment as you gathered your hair and tied it into a ponytail. Then you turned back around, and dropped gracefully to your knees between his spread thighs. You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you warned him as your fingers already started working his zipper, “If anyone finds out I did this- any of this- I could lose my job.” 

Noah nodded quickly, his jaw clenched and eyes half lidded as he watched you. 

You pulled his cock free from his trousers. He was rock hard, big, thick and heavy, the head already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base and gave him one slow, firm stroke, watching his thighs tense.

Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth.

Noah’s head fell back against the back of couch, a silent, strangled groan caught in his throat as you started sucking him, slow, wet, and sloppy. You took him as deep as you could, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat, then pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock.

You looked up at him again, eyes watery but determined, and whispered,

“Not a sound, Noah. Or I stop.”

Noah nodded desperately, biting his lip hard.

You immediately went back down, taking him deeper this time. Loud, wet, filthy sounds filled the private room as you bobbed your head fast. Spit ran down his thick shaft messily, dripping onto his balls while you worked him.

You pulled off just long enough to look up into his eyes and spit on his cock, then stroked him fast and tight while your tongue swirled around the sensitive head, licking up every drop of precum like it was your favourite little treat.

“Fuck… baby-” Noah choked out in a broken whisper, one hand flying to your ponytail.

You moaned around his cock in response, the vibration making his hips jerk. Then you pushed yourself further, relaxing your throat and sinking all the way down until your nose nuzzled against his pelvis. You held him there, your throat fluttering and squeezing around him, glossy lips stretched wide around the base of his cock.

Noah’s whole body tensed, and his thighs started shaking.

You pulled back with a gasp, strings of thick spit connecting your mouth to his cock, leaving a ring of sparkly lips gloss at his base, then you immediately went back to sucking him hard and fast- sloppy, messy, and just straight up pornographic. Your hand stroked the base in time with your mouth while your other hand gently rolled and squeezed his heavy balls.

Fuck, Noah was losing it. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, fingers tightening almost painfully in your hair as he fought to stay quiet and in control. His cock throbbed on your tongue, leaking constantly, then you looked up at him with teary, cockdrunk eyes and moaned again, sucking harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him as deep as you could.

And that was all it took. Barely three minutes after you’d started, Noah’s hips rutted and his grip on your hair turned almost painful.

“I’m- shit, I’m cumming-” He gasped, his strained voice barely a whisper.

You moaned eagerly and pushed him deep into your throat just as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled down your throat as his cock throbbed in your mouth. You swallowed around him greedily, milking every drop while he trembled and whimpered quietly above you. Even after he finished, you kept sucking gently, cleaning him up with soft and lazy licks until he was twitching and oversensitive.

When you finally pulled off, you wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb and looked up at him with a wicked little smile.

“Already?” You teased softly, your voice sweet and mocking. “I thought big rockstars like you had better stamina than that, baby. You came so fast… did my mouth feel that good?”

Noah let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh, dragging a hand down his flushed face.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, still trying to catch his breath. “Absolute fucking evil.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his softening cock before tucking him back into his pants.

“Worth every penny you’re about to spend on me tonight, though… right?” 

Noah sat up slowly, his eyes still dark and hungry as he looked at you kneeling between his legs. He cupped your face with one big hand, his thumb brushing over your swollen, glossy lips.

“Come home with me instead,” he said, his voice rough. “Right now. Fuck the rest of your shift.”

You bit your lip, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Noah… I would but I promised this guy a lap dance in like five minutes. I can’t just-”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, leaning forward so his forehead rested against yours. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay triple what he was going to give you. I’ll cover all your house fees for the whole night, plus whatever tip you would’ve made. Fuck it, I’ll even pay the club an extra 2k if it means they’ll let you leave early..”

You raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by how quickly and casually he was throwing out numbers.

“Noah… that’s a lot of money.” You said as you stood up, only to be pulled down into his lap again. 

“I don’t care,” he said immediately, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw. “I’ve been stuck on a fucking tour bus for six weeks jerking off to the thought of you every night. I just came down your throat in under three minutes like a desperate loser. I need to return the favour. I need you tonight. All night. In my bed. On my tongue. Riding my cock until sunrise.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours as he kept talking.

“I promise I’ll make it worth it for you, princess. Five thousand. Six if you want. Whatever it takes so you can walk out that door with me right now and not worry about losing money.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip, hsi eyes burning into yours. “So what do you say? Let me spoil you properly. Come home with me tonight and I promise I’ll take care of everything- the club, the money, you. All of it.”

You felt heat pool between your legs at how insistent and generous he was being. The way he was willing to throw money at the situation just to have you. So you smiled slowly, leaning in to kiss him.

“Okay,” you whispered against his mouth. “I’ll go tell everyone I’m sick or something. Give me five minutes.”

Noah’s grip on your hips tightened, and he kissed you harder, deep and possessive.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Noah stood in the shower with one hand braced against the black tile wall, his head bowed as hot water ran down the back of his neck. Steam filled the bathroom like fog, blurring the full body mirror opposite the glass. 

Good. He didn’t particularly want to look at himself right now. Not after eight hours on a red-eye flight from London while his body ran on nothing but a cheap protein bar and two coffees. He hadn’t slept, he couldn’t sleep, and his body couldn’t even tell what time it was anymore. 

He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as the water ran through his hair before spiralling down the drain, carrying away the smell of airplane and weeks spent living out of a suitcase. His muscles ached from sleeping in cramped bunks on the tour buses, hauling heavy luggage through terminals and sitting in vans and planes for hours on end. 

He straightened up and rolled one shoulder, letting out a groan when it cracked loudly. 

So fucking old. He thought to himself. Though thirty wasn’t old, not in the slightest, it just felt that way after six weeks on the road, travelling through Europe. 

He landed just less than an hour ago, and he dropped his bags by the front door and immediately headed into the bathroom. He’d deal with unpacking later, he’d deal with missed calls and emails and whatever else was waiting for him later. 

After shutting off the shower, he finally noticed just how quiet his apartment (penthouse, he’s just humble) was. He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water disappearing into the expensive rug beneath his feet as he made his way into the kitchen. The place looked exactly how he’d left it, spotless, almost too clean- despite him telling his cleaner not to bother coming while he was on tour, but still paid her anyway. 

He stopped beside the kitchen island, and opened the fridge. Inside, he found a couple bottled waters, half a lemon and expired oat milk. He stared at it for a moment before shutting the door again. 

Food could wait. Everything could wait. 

He shook his head, and was about to make his way to the bedroom when his phone buzzed on the counter. 

Davis: Land safe?

He unlocked his phone and typed with tired fingers. 

Noah: Yeah. Got back an hour ago. 

Davis: Good. Get some rest dude, you deserve it 

He huffed a humourless laugh and tossed his phone back onto the counter. 

If only it worked like that. 

He knew he needed sleep, he was exhausted, every muscle in his body was screaming for rest, his eyelids burned and his head felt heavy… but he knew himself too well. If he climbed into bed right now, he’d stare up at the ceiling, eventually reach for his phone and scroll through twitter, reading comments he shouldn’t read. Maybe eventually he’d move into the studio and open up his laptop, start tweaking some demos for the next album, then start panicking about the next album. Worrying whether it’s good enough, thinking about streams and people’s expectations until the pressure would send him into a spiral. 

His brain didn’t know how to stop when he was at home, or at least not on it’s own. 

So he dragged his suitcase into the bedroom, and dropped it onto the bed. He dug through it until he pulled out a pair of black jeans, a tshirt that didn’t cling to him, and a pair of boxers that he hoped were clean. He quickly got dressed and half heartedly dried his hair with his towel before reaching for his black baseball cap that had dropped onto the floor. 

He caught his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted it on his head- his bloodshot eyes and dark circles, the way tour seemed to physically age him another thirty years. 

He just stared at himself for a moment before his eye caught his suitcase in the reflection. He should stay home, he should unpack, he knew that. Any sensible person would’ve climbed into bed and slept for twelve hours… instead, Noah found himself wandering towards the front door and reaching for his car keys. 

Because there was only one thing he could think about during the entire flight home. Not his bed, not the new album, not even seeing his friends. It was you. 

He didn’t have your number, he never asked for it, it never felt right, because everything about the two of you existed within the walls of the club. There was something comforting about that, though. There were no expectations, no texts late at night, no need to wonder if he was bothering you on your day off. He just had to turn up to the club, walk through the doors and you were there. 

But sometimes you weren’t. 

And if you weren’t, he’d nurse a whiskey, chat to the bartender for a while, tip the girls who came over to say hello then head home. But he knew that wouldn’t be the case tonight, since he knew for sure that you were working. Before he left for Europe, the bartender told him that you’d picked up Thursdays now that one of the other girls had left. So before he even left for the tour, he knew exactly where he’d be on the night he came home. 

He barely remembered getting in his car, but now he was at the club, walking up the door with his head down.

“Look who finally decided to come home!” The bouncer grinned, making Noah look up and give a tired smile. 

“It’s been a long six weeks.” Noah sighed, and the bouncer nodded his head before stepping aside to let him through. 

“Good to have you back.” 

“Good to be back.” He said with a nod, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. 

But it didn’t matter anymore once he stepped inside, the smell of perfume, cologne and alcohol all mixed together as coloured lights swept across the room. Nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone, everything was still in the same place, they were still playing the same music, the same bartender was polishing glasses behind the counter. 

He let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, then his eyes found you. You were on the stage, you must’ve been halfway through your first set tonight. 

He smiled to himself when he saw what you were wearing. The most gorgeous lacey lilac two piece that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He wondered just how many outfits you had, since last time you were in emerald, and before that it was red, baby pink, silver, and he could never forget when you were in black the first time he came here.

You looked beautiful as ever tonight. Your hair was even curled, and it gently bounced as you moved beneath the lights. The crowd was eating it up- there were a group of businessmen at the front who looked hypnotised, and a couple guys he guessed were rather drunk, throwing handfuls of bills onto the stage. 

You gave a polite smile, gracious and professional as you twirled around the pole again. Oh how he had missed watching you…

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite rockstar.” Noah looked over to see one of the girls who worked here, Lila, smiling brightly and looping an arm loosely through his. “You’ve been gone forever.” 

“Six weeks.” He nodded. 

“See,” she pouted, “Forever!” 

He laughed softly, a warm smile creeping onto his lips. 

“Good to see you.” He said. 

“You too.” She said, before stepping back to take a proper look at him. “...Shit. You look exhausted.” 

“I am.” He quietly admitted. 

“You want some company?” She asked casually. And there was no pressure, because she knew the answer already. 

“I appreciate it,” Noah said with an apologetic smile, “But…”

Her eyes followed his, and they led straight to you. She laughed, though he could tell she was a little disappointed. 

“I should’ve known.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder, “She’s been wondering when you’d come back. I think your booth’s empty if you’re heading over there.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Thanks.” 

Lila gave him a smile, gently squeezing his arm, before turning around to head back into the crows. But Noah just managed to call out,

“Wait!” 

She slowly turned around, and Noah was already reaching into his pocket for his wallet, then he handed her a little stack of bills. 

“Have a good night.” 

…

Noah sat in the secluded booth that had somehow become his over the past year, he had his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey that he’d been nursing for the past ten minutes while he watched you. 

You had no idea he was there, or maybe you did, he couldn’t tell. Still, he didn’t wave or try to catch your eye. He didn’t want to pull your attention away from your work. Not when this was your stage, your time, he was quite content to sit in the dark corner with his drink, letting his thoughts start to slow down.

And like usual in this place, he completely lost track of time. It was impossible not to when you would spin so effortlessly beneath the lights, when the way you moved your hips were hypnotic. He sank back into his seat, his legs spread beneath the table as his fingers tapped against his glass. 

Then before he knew it, your set was over. He watched you flash that professional smile before disappearing behind the velvet curtain at the back of the stage. He smiled to himself, then finally took another sip of his drink, which had now been watered down by the melted ice, though he didn’t mind. 

He was too busy imagining you backstage with the other girls, kicking off the towering heels for a few blessed minutes, complaining to the other girls about how your feet hurt- he’d heard that complaint from you enough times. He imagined you touching up your makeup, fixing your hair, drinking half a bottle of water in one go.

“So you finally remembered where we keep the door.” A warm and teasing voice spoke. "I thought maybe you found a better club."

He suddenly looked up, and there you were. Your lipstick had been reapplied, though it was a little smudged on the bottom, the pretty little outfit you had on had been covered up by an oversized black zip up hoodie, the hood pulled up over your head while the sleeves drowned you. And clearly you were giving your feet a break, since you were walking around in a pair of fluffy pink sliders. 

You looked human, like a regular person, not the dazzling performer he and everyone else had just watched on the stage. 

You slid into the booth, letting out a sigh as you sat down, resting your feet in his lap. But when you looked at him properly… your smiled disappeared. 

“Jesus, Noah.” You winced. 

“What?”

“You look like shit.” 

He scoffed, setting his glass back down onto the table. 

“Wow, thanks. Here I was thinking you were coming over to say welcome home.” 

You smiled, tilting your head.

“Where have you been?” You asked softly, and he rubbed his eyes. 

“Europe. Got back two hours ago.” 

“And you came straight here?”

He nodded. 

“I showered first, didn’t think you’d want me smelling like airports.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Well, thank you for that.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the effort.” He smirked. 

“I do.” You nudged one of his knees gently with your slipper. “You look a lot cleaner than the last time you stumbled in after a flight.”

He smiled, the corners of his tired eyes softening. God, he’d missed this, he missed someone talking to him like he was just… Noah.

You studied him for another second, then your smile faded and your voice softened. 

“How long have you actually been awake?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Noah.”

“Well, I slept for maybe…” He squinted as he thought. “Fifteen minutes on the plane?”

You frowned. Poor thing. He looked so tired and so tense, and instead of being tucked up in bed he was here. You didn’t wonder why, you knew exactly why he was here, even if he never told you. 

You leaned back into the booth, stretching one arm over the backrest before glancing towards the stage

“Y’know, I’m on my break at the moment. I’ve got about…” You checked the clock mounted above the bar. “Forty minutes until I gotta go back out there. There was a guy asking if I could give his friend a private dance.” You looked back at him, and he was nodding slowly. “And I was going to spend it backstage until I saw you.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, and thoughtfully tapped your long nails against the table. “Y'know... one of our private rooms are empty.”

His eyebrow lifted as he picked his glass back up. 

“And you look like you could use a dance.” You added.

He smiled into his whiskey.

“I probably could.”

You watched him for another second, thinking something over in your mind. 

“…Or.” You rested your chin in your palm. “I could give you a massage instead. You look pretty tense.”

He scoffed. 

“You’re telling me. I’ve spent six weeks sleeping in a tour bus.”

You frowned. 

“Must be pretty hard for a big guy like you,” you half teased, “I’m guessing the plane wasn’t much better?”

He shook his head. 

“I can tell.” You said softly, “I’ve got some massage oil in my locker.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You do?”

“My back gets tight after dancing.” You sighed.

“Huh.” He hummed. “You offer this to everyone?”

You laughed outright.

“God, no.” You shook your head, “I’d never get any work done.”

He smiled.

“So why me?”

You met his eyes, not sure how to answer that without getting too soppy with it.

“I guess it’s just your lucky day.” You smirked, before reaching over to touch his tense shoulder, “I think I know just what you need.”

He smiled, small and tired, but grateful. 

“Thanks. That sounds good.”

You pushed yourself up from the booth, pulling your hoodie down so it covered your ass.

“Go upstairs, room three,” you instructed, “I’ll grab the oil from my locker, I’ll just be two minutes.”

He nodded, already reaching for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

You looked almost offended.

“Noah.”

“What?”

“I’m on my break.”

“I know, but-”

“No.” You folded your arms. “This one’s not work.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you pointed a finger at him before he could. 

“Don’t.”

A reluctant laugh escaped him.

“I wasn’t going to.”

You rolled your eyes fondly.

“The only thing you owe me… is keeping this a secret.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. 

You turned towards the staff corridor, then glanced back over your shoulder with a smile.

“And Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

…

Room three was at the end of the corridor, far enough from the main floor that the music had softened and you could just hear the bass thump through the walls.

Noah had barely been inside for thirty seconds before he heard the quiet knock, then the door opened just enough for you to step in.

“Sorry,” you smiled. “One of the girls cornered me to complain about a customer.”

He chuckled.

“It’s okay.”

You nudged the door shut with your foot before holding up a pair of heels that looked more like a torture device.

“So, I have a very important question.”

Noah tilted his head. 

“I’m listening.”

You lifted the heels slightly.

“Do you want me to look…” You made little quotation marks with your fingers. “‘Professional.’ Y’know, lingerie and heels.”

Then you liften and wiggled one foot in the fluffy pink sliders you were already wearing.

“Or… do you mind if I stay like this?”

Noah looked at the heels, then at your hoodie, then at the slippers.

“Is that even a question?”

“Your massage, your choice.” You shrugged. 

He laughed softly.

“You’re on your break, sweetheart. You’ve been working all evening, I’d rather you were comfortable.”

A smile spread slowly across your face.

“I knew I liked you.”

“You weren’t sure before?”

“I was about… seventy percent sure.”

“Only seventy?”

“Yup. Congratulations.” You tossed the heels onto the armchair in the corner dramatically. “You’ve just earned the remaining thirty.”

He laughed, the sound warm enough to make your heart squeeze. Then you walked over to the small table and set the bottle of massage oil down beside a folded towel. Then you looked back at him.

“Okay.” You clapped your hands together once. “Get your ass over here, pretty boy.”

He raised an eyebrow as he wandered over. 

“Bossing me around already?” 

“Mm, I know you love it.” You smirked, pointing down at the plush red L-shaped couch. “Sit.”

Noah huffed a laugh, but still obeyed. He lowered himself onto the corner of the couch with a groan, and in here you could see him better. The dark circles under his eyes were impossible to miss, and there was still that tightness in his shoulders, like he didn’t know how to let them relax. 

You stepped in between his knees, studying him for a second as a frown tugged at your mouth. 

“Wow, you really do look rough.” 

“Aren’t you just full of compliments tonight.” Noah scoffed, a playful smile on his lips. 

You ignored that, and instead reached for his baseball cap, and lifted it from his head, setting it on the table beside the bottle of oil. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, flattened from drying beneath the cap. 

“That’s better.” You smiled. 

You watched as his expression suddenly changed, he almost looked a little shy, and his hand started to rise towards his hair. 

“Nope.” You stopped him, catching his wrist before he could fix it. 

“It’s a mess.” He chuckled. 

“Well, in that case,” you settled onto one of his thighs, facing him, “Can I fix it?”

His eyes met yours, and his voice softened, like he’d been caught off guard. 

“...Yeah.” 

You smiled, and slowly slid your fingers into the dark strands at the back of his head, combing through his hair. As you did so, your long nails scratched gently at his scalp- and Noah’s reaction was immediate. His eyes fell shut, and a long breath escaped him. 

“Oh…” He let out a breathy moan. 

A tiny smile spread across your face as your hands slowly moved up his head, now brushing through the top of his hair. 

“That feel good?” You asked. 

“Mm… don’t stop.” 

You laughed softly and continued, your fingers slowly and gently moving through his hair. Little by little, you felt the tension leave him, his jaw relaxed and his head tipped forward ever so slightly, leaning into your touch.without even noticing. 

Then when you were finally satisfied, you brushed one last strand back from his forehead. 

“Much better,” you smiled, then carefully got up off his lap, “Alright, take your shirt off.” 

He couldn’t help but grin as he reached for the hem. 

“Remind me which one of us works at the strip club?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, as he pulled it up over his head in one motion before dropping it onto the arm of the couch.

You opened your mouth to say something… but nothing came out. 

…Oh. Wow. 

You’d seen him come in wearing tank tops before, the occasional tight t-shirt… but nothing could’ve prepared you for this. 

He wasn’t enormous, he didn’t look intimidating. He just looked… strong and masculine. Comfortably and naturally. His big broad shoulders tapered into a slutty little waist (sorry), his arms defined from years of lifting equipment instead of chasing impossible proportions at the gym. There were tattoos across his chest and stomach, your eyes drifted over them before settling on the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

He looked like he took care of himself.

Maybe not as obsessively as some of the other guys you’d seen in here, who make their muscles and bodies their whole personality. But you could tell he put work into his body anyway. 

“You okay?” His voice pulled you back.

You suddenly met his eyes.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

Heat crept into your cheeks.

“Yeah…” A laugh escaped you. “I wasn’t expecting…”

He looked down at himself, confused as to what you’re laughing at.

“What?”

“You look…” You searched for a word that didn’t sound ridiculous. “…really good.”

He gave an awkward little shrug.

“I’ve definitely looked better.”

You shook your head. 

“You know what’s funny?” You asked. 

“What?”

“I’m used to people staring at me. It’s literally my job.”

He nodded slowly, and you smiled to yourself. 

“It’s kind of nice that the tables have turned for once.” You added. 

A soft flush appeared across the tops of his cheeks.

“You’ve made me self-conscious now.” He said, half joking. 

“I promise I’m not judging you.” You insisted, “You’re just… wow.” 

Without thinking, your fingertips hovered near one of the letters tattooed just below his chest, then you paused.

“Can I?”

He glanced down at your hand before nodding.

“Yeah.”

Your fingertips rested lightly against his skin, tracing the edge of the ink with a featherlight touch. Then his stomach tightened involuntarily beneath your hand, and you immediately looked up.

“Sorry.”

“No.” A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m just…”

“Ticklish?” You smirked. 

“...A little.” He said quietly. 

You smiled warmly.

“Wow, Noah Sebastian's ticklish?”

“Don’t go spreading that around.”

“I don’t know…” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “It’s kind of adorable.”

He groaned.

“I liked you better five minutes ago when you were being nice.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, remembering you were on a time limit. So you turned to pick up the massage oil. 

“Lay flat for me, on your stomach.” 

He obeyed without another word, and you took a step closer to the couch. You then shrugged off your hoodie, not wanting to cover it in oil. 

“Alright.” You said as you tossed it on top of Noah’s tshirt. 

He looked back over his shoulder at you. 

“If anything hurts, tell me. I’m not a professional, so promise you won’t sue me or the club if… I dunno, I break your shoulder or something.”

“I promise.” He laughed, folding his arms and resting his head on them. 

You looked at the couch… then at him… then at the couch. 

“…This is going to be awkward.” You said under your breath. 

“What is?”

“The angle.”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t really reach your shoulders from here, not comfortably at least, so...” You sighed dramatically. “I’m going to have to climb up there.”

“Up there?” 

“On you.” You clarified. 

He bit back a smile.

“I have complete faith in you.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t.”

He heard you muttering to yourself as you tried to work out the least ridiculous way to do it.

“Left knee… no… that’s worse.” 

Finally, you carefully climbed onto the couch behind him, balancing yourself with one hand on the backrest.

“This feels very undignified.”

“I wish I could see what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

Another second of shuffling followed…

“There.” You settled yourself down rather comfortably on his butt, your knees on either side of his hips. The position felt quite ridiculous, but it gave you the perfect leverage to reach his broad shoulders. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“…Are you comfortable?”

“I think so.” You smiled, pouring a little oil into your hands, warming it between your palms before reaching for his shoulders. 

“You ready?”

“Mhm.” He nodded into his arms.

Your thumbs pressed gently into the muscles beside his neck, and you immediately felt how tight they were. You worked slowly, using steady pressure rather than force, following the lines of muscle across his upper back. You didn’t realise you were rocking your hips with every movement, but Noah suddenly went very still. 

Every time you leaned forward to put more pressure into your hands, your hips roled, pressing your warm core firmly against the curve of his ass. After a couple of minutes, you felt him move underneath you, his muscles tensing instead of relaxing. 

“You okay down there?” You asked, still rocking slightly as you massaged lower down his back.

Noah’s voice came out a little strained.

“…Yeah. Just… keep going.”

You smiled, completely unaware of this effect you were having on him right now. Your hips continued to roll with the rhythm of the massage, rubbing your barely covered pussy against him over and over. The thin fabric of your thong did almost nothing to hide how warm you felt against him, even through his jeans.

Noah’s hands clenched into fists. His cock was now fully hard, trapped underneath him and grinding against the couch with every little movement you made. The pressure was driving him insane, and he wasn’t even sure you were doing it on purpose. 

You leaned forward again, your breasts brushing against his back this time as you worked on his spine, and let out a soft, focused hum.

“God, your back is so tight…”

Noah let out a quiet, broken sound that he tried (and failed) to disguise as a normal groan. Then, you finally sat back on his butt, still straddling him, and gently patted his side.

“Alright, big guy. Time to flip over. I wanna do your front too.”

Noah didn’t move right away.

“…Uh, okay. Maybe give me a second.” He mumbled into his arm, his voice hoarse.

You tilted your head, curiously.

“Why?” You chuckled.

He let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Because if I turn over right now, you’re going to see exactly what your little massage has done to me.”

A wicked smirk spread across your face. 

“Oh really?” You purred, “You got hard from me sitting on you like this and rubbing your back? Poor baby, were you that wound up?”

“You’ve been rocking your hips on me for the last five minutes,” he rasped, fingers digging into the couch, “What the fuck did you expect?” 

You laughed softly, biting your lip as you leaned forward, pressing your tits against his back while your hands slid down his sides. 

“Mm, I bet your dick's aching, huh?” You whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “Trapped underneath you, where you can’t touch it… bet you wish it was my hand wrapped around it, hm?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Noah grumbled, but there was no real complaint in his voice, just strained arousal. 

“I am,” you smirked, sitting up straight and giving his ass a playful squeeze with your thighs. “It’s not every day I get to make a big, sexy guy like you this desperate just by giving him a back massage.” 

You finally climbed off of him, wiping your hands with the folded towel on the table, then looked back over at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

“C’mon, turn over for me,” you said, tapping his side, “Let me see what I did to you.” 

Noah hesitated for a second, then slowly rolled onto his back. And the moment he did, the very obvious, very thick bulge in his jeans was impossible to ignore. Your eyes widened before you let out a delighted little laugh. 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring at him openly, “This all for me, huh?”

You reached out and trailed one finger lightly over up the length of his bulge, not enough pressure to satisfy, just enough to tease. And his hips twitched, a quiet curse slipping his lips. 

“Baby…” He warned, his eyes dark. 

But you just smirked, and swung your leg around him so you straddled him again. You settled your weight on him and slowly rolled your hips forward, grinding your barely covered pussy along the thick length of his cock through his jeans, and you had to bite your lip as your clit rubbed so deliciously against him. 

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying your massage.” You teased, your voice sweet as you started working your hands over his chest and shoulders again. Your thumbs circled his pecs, brushing over his nipples while your hips kept up that slow rhythm.

Noah’s hands flexed at his sides, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his restraint, and he tried to keep his hands off of you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He warned. 

You leaned down, pressing your tits against his chest as you massaged his shoulders, rolling your hips in a way that dragged your pussy right over the head of his cock with every movement.

“Am I?” You asked innocently, lips brushing his collarbone. “I’m just trying to be nice and help you relax all these tight, hard muscles…”

You sat up again, bracing your hands on his chest as you started rocking harder, grinding down on him with more pressure. The friction was perfect- your clit rubbing against his bulge over and over while you pretended to focus on massaging his abs. You almost forgot that you shouldn't be doing this here.

Noah’s breathing grew ragged. His cock throbbed hard beneath you, leaking precum into his boxers.

“Fuck… baby,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

You bit your lip and rolled your hips even slower, dragging your wet pussy along his entire length.

“Good,” you whispered, voice dripping with the teasing sweetness you know how to do so well. “I want to feel how much you like it.”

You kept going, grinding and rolling and pressing down harder with every pass, your own breathing getting heavier as you worked yourself against him. Your hands never stopped moving, sliding over his chest, his tummy, his shoulders, all while you rode his clothed cock like you were in his bed instead of a private room at the work.

Noah’s hands finally snapped up, making you jump as he gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh to stop your movement completely.

“Sorry- fuck, stop moving,” he rasped, his voice strained and desperate. His cock was twitching beneath you, and he felt right on the edge. “I’m serious. I’m about two seconds away from cumming in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

You looked down at him with a satisfied little smirk, still gently rocking despite his tight grip.

“Aww, poor thing,” you cooed, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You really are that worked up, huh? Just from me sitting on your lap and giving you a massage?”

Noah let out a shaky breath, thumbs stroking your hips even as he held you still.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Keep teasing me like this and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, and with one last kiss to his neck, you pressed your finger to his lips as if to shush him. 

“Not a sound. Sit up.” You instructed as you stood yourself. 

You turned your back to him for a moment as you gathered your hair and tied it into a ponytail. Then you turned back around, and dropped gracefully to your knees between his spread thighs. You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you warned him as your fingers already started working his zipper, “If anyone finds out I did this- any of this- I could lose my job.” 

Noah nodded quickly, his jaw clenched and eyes half lidded as he watched you. 

You pulled his cock free from his trousers. He was rock hard, big, thick and heavy, the head already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base and gave him one slow, firm stroke, watching his thighs tense.

Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth.

Noah’s head fell back against the back of couch, a silent, strangled groan caught in his throat as you started sucking him, slow, wet, and sloppy. You took him as deep as you could, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat, then pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock.

You looked up at him again, eyes watery but determined, and whispered,

“Not a sound, Noah. Or I stop.”

Noah nodded desperately, biting his lip hard.

You immediately went back down, taking him deeper this time. Loud, wet, filthy sounds filled the private room as you bobbed your head fast. Spit ran down his thick shaft messily, dripping onto his balls while you worked him.

You pulled off just long enough to look up into his eyes and spit on his cock, then stroked him fast and tight while your tongue swirled around the sensitive head, licking up every drop of precum like it was your favourite little treat.

“Fuck… baby-” Noah choked out in a broken whisper, one hand flying to your ponytail.

You moaned around his cock in response, the vibration making his hips jerk. Then you pushed yourself further, relaxing your throat and sinking all the way down until your nose nuzzled against his pelvis. You held him there, your throat fluttering and squeezing around him, glossy lips stretched wide around the base of his cock.

Noah’s whole body tensed, and his thighs started shaking.

You pulled back with a gasp, strings of thick spit connecting your mouth to his cock, leaving a ring of sparkly lips gloss at his base, then you immediately went back to sucking him hard and fast- sloppy, messy, and just straight up pornographic. Your hand stroked the base in time with your mouth while your other hand gently rolled and squeezed his heavy balls.

Fuck, Noah was losing it. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, fingers tightening almost painfully in your hair as he fought to stay quiet and in control. His cock throbbed on your tongue, leaking constantly, then you looked up at him with teary, cockdrunk eyes and moaned again, sucking harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him as deep as you could.

And that was all it took. Barely three minutes after you’d started, Noah’s hips rutted and his grip on your hair turned almost painful.

“I’m- shit, I’m cumming-” He gasped, his strained voice barely a whisper.

You moaned eagerly and pushed him deep into your throat just as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled down your throat as his cock throbbed in your mouth. You swallowed around him greedily, milking every drop while he trembled and whimpered quietly above you. Even after he finished, you kept sucking gently, cleaning him up with soft and lazy licks until he was twitching and oversensitive.

When you finally pulled off, you wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb and looked up at him with a wicked little smile.

“Already?” You teased softly, your voice sweet and mocking. “I thought big rockstars like you had better stamina than that, baby. You came so fast… did my mouth feel that good?”

Noah let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh, dragging a hand down his flushed face.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, still trying to catch his breath. “Absolute fucking evil.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his softening cock before tucking him back into his pants.

“Worth every penny you’re about to spend on me tonight, though… right?” 

Noah sat up slowly, his eyes still dark and hungry as he looked at you kneeling between his legs. He cupped your face with one big hand, his thumb brushing over your swollen, glossy lips.

“Come home with me instead,” he said, his voice rough. “Right now. Fuck the rest of your shift.”

You bit your lip, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Noah… I would but I promised this guy a lap dance in like five minutes. I can’t just-”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, leaning forward so his forehead rested against yours. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay triple what he was going to give you. I’ll cover all your house fees for the whole night, plus whatever tip you would’ve made. Fuck it, I’ll even pay the club an extra 2k if it means they’ll let you leave early..”

You raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by how quickly and casually he was throwing out numbers.

“Noah… that’s a lot of money.” You said as you stood up, only to be pulled down into his lap again. 

“I don’t care,” he said immediately, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw. “I’ve been stuck on a fucking tour bus for six weeks jerking off to the thought of you every night. I just came down your throat in under three minutes like a desperate loser. I need to return the favour. I need you tonight. All night. In my bed. On my tongue. Riding my cock until sunrise.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours as he kept talking.

“I promise I’ll make it worth it for you, princess. Five thousand. Six if you want. Whatever it takes so you can walk out that door with me right now and not worry about losing money.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip, hsi eyes burning into yours. “So what do you say? Let me spoil you properly. Come home with me tonight and I promise I’ll take care of everything- the club, the money, you. All of it.”

You felt heat pool between your legs at how insistent and generous he was being. The way he was willing to throw money at the situation just to have you. So you smiled slowly, leaning in to kiss him.

“Okay,” you whispered against his mouth. “I’ll go tell everyone I’m sick or something. Give me five minutes.”

Noah’s grip on your hips tightened, and he kissed you harder, deep and possessive.

You looked at him, eyes gleaming. 

”Remind me to come on tour with you more often,” you said. 

”Gladly. May I ask why?” he grinned. 

”If these are the kinds of hotels you’re staying at these days,” you swept a hand in the general direction of the buffet. ”This is the greatest hotel breakfast I’ve ever seen!”

A few moments later you were tucking on a large selection of dishes. Scrambled eggs, pancakes, yoghurt parfait, fruit and croissants. You happily slurped your orange juice when you caught your boyfriend looking intently at your food before quickly typing something on his phone.

”…What?”

Noah tilted his head a little. 

”Just making sure.” 

”Sure of what?”

He flipped his phone around, showing you the screen. It was a google search. 

”Can pregnant women eat cantaloupe?”

”NOAH!”

He just grinned at you. You rolled your eyes and continued eating. Noah scrolled for another moment. 

”Have you started taking prenatal vitamins?”

”Have I done what?”

”Prenatal vitamins?” 

”Noah, I’ve known for ten days.”

He raised an eyebrow.

”That’s plenty of time.”

You just looked at him. 

”…Do you have any?”

”No.” 

”We’re buying prenatal vitamins today,” he informed you. ”Folic acid is very important, apparently.”

Nick made his way down to breakfast earlier than usual, coffee already on his mind. Truth be told, he hadn’t slept particularly well and could really use the caffeine. He had tossed and turned for hours, sleep evading him after leaving the two of you outside the restaurant the night before. 

As he stepped into the breakfast room he instinctively searched for Noah. He found him almost immediately. Even from his spot behind you, Nick could tell that your shoulders had dropped. You were leaning across the table, playfully swatting Noah on the arm. 

Nick watched Noah put both hands up in front of him in what seemed to be defeat. And then Noah looked up, meeting Nick's gaze from across the room. His face broke into the widest grin Nick had seen in days. ”Thank fuck,” Nick huffed as he made his way over. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to see Nick. You smiled up at him and he returned the smile. 

”You told him.”

You nodded.

”About fucking time,” he huffed. ”It was getting hard for me too.” 

Nick turned to Noah who was already on his feet. Neither of them said a word. Nick simply pulled his friend into a hug. Nick pulled away just enough to look him in the eye.

"Congratulations, man.”

Noah's face lit up.

“…Thanks.”

Once he’d sat back down again, Noah piped up. 

”Did you know she hasn’t started taking prenatal vitamins?” 

Nick's gaze reached you, sitting with your arms across your chest with brows furrowed.

”Enough with the damn vitamins, Noah!”

The morning air was crisp, the kind that made you instinctively pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself. Chicago was only just waking up. People hurried past with takeaway coffees in hand, cyclists weaving between taxis whilst dog walkers filled the sidewalks.

The city looked different today, you thought as you slipped your hand into Noah’s. 

Or maybe… you did.

Yesterday, Chicago had been little more than blurred streets and towering buildings rushing past the taxi window. On your walk it had been no more than blurred shadows at the edges of your tunnel vision. You’d been too consumed by the secret weighing on your chest to notice much else.

Today, you noticed everything.

The early morning sun reflected off the glass skyscrapers, making them shimmer against the bright blue sky. Trees and bushes were beginning to bloom. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the familiar rumble of the elevated train. You smiled to yourself.

Turns out the taxi driver had been right.

Chicago really was beautiful.

”Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Noah shrugged. 

”The guys have it covered.”

You glanced up at him. 

”You’re playing in front of ten thousand people tomorrow.”

”Yeah, but the only thing I absolutely have to do is soundcheck tomorrow,” he said. ”Besides, you know that Nick wouldn’t let me.”

Every time you crossed a street, Noah made sure that he was closest to the traffic. At one point it seemed like holding your hand wasn’t enough. Noah put his arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. 

Suddenly, he stopped. You followed his gaze to your right. A pharmacy. He winked at you. 

”Noah… no. I—”

He pressed a long finger to your lips, shushing you. 

”Angel,” he said. ”I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

So that’s how you found yourself by the vitamin shelf. It was absolutely overwhelming. Noah shifted his weight onto one leg, folding one arm across his chest while the other hand came up to his chin. His thumb rested beneath his jaw as his index finger tapped thoughtfully against his lips, his brows furrowing as he studied the shelf.

”Why are there like… Twenty different kinds?” 

”I don’t know.”

He glanced up at you. 

”Would you like tablets? Gummies?”

”I don’t know.”

”These ones are organic.” 

”…Amazing.” 

He reached for a bottle, turning it over in his hands. 

”Supports healthy fetal development,” he read aloud. He nodded his head gravely. ”Sounds important.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at him. 

He carried the little bag of vitamins and a new tub of your favorite hand cream, which he had picked up almost subconsciously, out of the store with immense pride. 

”You’re such a dork.”

”Yeah,” he said, once again putting his arm around you. ”But I’m your dork.”

The Starbucks sign came into view a few blocks later. 

“Finally,” you sighed dramatically. “I’ve been thinking about their blueberry muffin all morning.” 

Noah chuckled as he held the door open for you. 

The place was busier than you expected, the line almost stretching to the entrance. The rich smell of freshly ground coffee mixed with vanilla and baked goods filled the room. You glanced at the line, and then towards the restrooms. 

“Can you order something for me? I’ll be right back.” 

“Of course.” 

Standing on your tiptoes you gave Noah a kiss on the cheek before disappearing towards the back of the coffee shop. When you returned, Noah was already waiting near the pickup counter with two paper cups in his hands and a small paper bag tucked under one arm. 

He extended one of the cups towards you with a small smile. You noticed the little tag hanging from a small sting. 

“Tea?” 

“Cutting down, remember?” 

You took it from him and tried it. It was surprisingly fruity and sweet. 

“You do realise that there is caffeine in tea too, right?” you asked as you made your way back outside. 

“...There is?” 

“Yeah. More or less, depending on the tea.” 

Noah slipped a hand down his jacket pocket, pulling his phone out. 

“Noah, no.” 

“I just…Let me check something.” 

You watched him for a moment as he frowned down at his phone, undoubtedly reading yet another article about pregnancy.

Twenty-four hours ago, you'd convinced yourself he would fall apart. That he'd panic. That he'd resent you for turning both of your lives upside down.

Instead he was googling what you could eat, how much caffeine you could have and buying prenatal vitamins like they were the most important purchase he'd ever make.

God, he was already becoming insufferably overprotective.

And yet, somehow, it made your heart ache with adoration for this man. 

Noah exhaled. 

“Okay, yeah. We’re good.” The city gradually gave way to quieter streets until you found yourselves wandering through a small park. The noise of traffic faded into the distance, replaced by birdsong and the rustling of leaves overhead. You walked in silence for a while, content just to walk hand in hand. To be together. 

“What happens now?” he asked after a while. 

“What do you mean?”

“I guess there has to be some kind of… I don't know... process?” 

“You mean healthcare wise?” 

He nodded. 

“I have an appointment next week,” you informed him. “On Tuesday."

He stopped walking, turning to face you completely. 

“I’ll be there.” 

“No, Noah. You won’t.” 

He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it a bit. 

“Yes I will.” 

“Noah. Babe. You’ll be in Canada.” 

“So?” 

“...So I’ll be back home. In Los Angeles. In America,” you put emphasis on the last word. “And you’ll be in Canada.” 

“We’ll cancel,” he stated simply. “I’ll get sick. I’ll lose my voice. Can’t sing.” 

You shook your head firmly. 

“No you won't. Thousands of people bought tickets,” you reasoned. “They’ve been looking forward to it for months.” 

There was something indistinguishable in his eyes. A determination that gave way to something like sadness.

“I don’t… I don’t want to miss anything,” he whispered. 

Stepping forwards, you wrapped your arms around him. He melted into you, resting his cheek on the top of your head. One of your hands found its way into the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching his skin lightly with your nails. 

“I know honey… I know.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then he mumbled into your hair. 

“I’m scared you’re going to have to do too much of this without me.” 

Oh. Your sweet, sweet man. 

You leaned back a little. He avoided your gaze. 

“Noah…” you breathed. “Noah, look at me.” 

He did, and you cupped his face in your hands. 

“I won’t be. I was… I was terrified coming here. I was so scared to tell you,” you stroked one of his cheeks with your thumb. “But I’m not anymore. I know you’ll be with me every step of the way, even if that sometimes might be over the phone,” you said before placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

“You’ve made that very clear.” 

Noah rested his forehead against yours for a moment before letting out a quiet breath.

"Okay."

You smiled.

"Okay?"

He nodded.

"Okay."

As you took his hand in yours, the conversation drifted effortlessly from one completely unimportant topic to another. Music. Nick’s terrible taste in movies. Whether blueberry muffins from Starbucks really were worth the hype. 

“I don’t think they are. There’s better ones out there,” Noah argued. 

“Then why the fuck am I sharing mine with you?” you laughed. 

“Because there’s no better one right in front of us.”

It felt strangely wonderful.

To talk about nothing at all.

To talk about everything.

“Same setlist tomorrow?” you asked.

“…Yes?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Can I request a song?” 

“No.” 

“Rude.”

“…You can request one. I’m not making any promises though.”

“Broken youth.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“I’m kidding. But I miss The Grey.” 

Noah tilted his head, lips pursed in thought as a quiet hum escaped him.

“…Maybe.” 

”Yay!” you squealed.

You couldn’t help yourself. Smiling, you reached up to pat his shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as the two of you continued walking.

You were halfway through telling him about the time in high school when you had escaped a pop quiz by climbing onto the school roof when your arm suddenly tugged backwards.

You frowned, taking another step before realising Noah was no longer walking beside you.

“…Babe?”

Turning around, you found him standing perfectly still. His eyes were fixed on the display in the window in front of him. 

Tiny knit hats. Soft, cream coloured blankets. A wooden crib. Fluffy teddy bears and a pair of the smallest socks you’ve ever seen. 

You smiled to yourself.

”…Want to go in?”

He didn’t answer right away. Peeling his eyes from the display he looked at you and shook his head slightly. 

”Okay.” 

You turned to resume walking, but once again Noah was like an anchor. 

”Maybe just for a minute?” he said in a small voice. 

”Of course, babe,” you smiled. 

A soft chime sounded above the door as you stepped inside.

The store felt quiet compared to the busy streets outside. Warm light spilled down from the ceiling lamps, bathing the room in a soft glow. Wooden shelves lined the walls, neatly stacked with folded blankets in cream, sage greens and dusty blue. Tiny knitted hats hung beside rows of impossibly small socks, while plush teddy bears sat patiently among baskets filled with pacifiers and teething rings.

Both of you stood still for a moment, just looking around. Noah's hand twitched slightly in yours.

”Do you guys need any help today?” came the soft-spoken voice of the woman behind the register.

”No,” you smiled. ”We’re just looking.”

Noah’s gaze wandered slowly from shelf to shelf. Tiny cardigans. Soft blankets. Strollers. Stuffed animals. A wall lined with baby bottles in every shape and size.

He took a tentative step forwards, hand slipping out of yours. Noah picked up a pair of tiny white socks with a pair of blueberries embroidered on them, turning them over in his hands.

“…No.”

”What?”

He held them up to you. 

”…There’s no way,” he whispered. ”They’re too small.” 

And they were. Everything in the store was too small. It was hard to believe that anyone could ever be so little. You watched your boyfriend move around the store, sometimes stopping to look at something that caught his eye. He was still holding the pair of socks. You knew Noah was a big man. That he was broad and tall, but you had gotten used to his size over the years. Something about the contrast of him and the items on display made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. Your tall, broad shouldered, tattooed metal frontman of a boyfriend surrounded by impossibly small socks, shoes and onesies. You sneaked a photo of him with your phone, wanting to capture the moment forever. 

A few moments later Noah stood looking down at the socks in his hands. His thumb gently brushed over the tiny embroidered blueberries.

”I know it’s too early,” he began. ”And I don’t want to jinx anything…” 

”Let’s get the blueberry socks,” you said. ”For our Blueberry.” 

As you stepped back out onto the sidewalk, Noah glanced down at the little bag in his hand and smiled to himself.

By the time the two of you made it back to the hotel, the sun had begun its slow descent behind the Chicago skyline. You kicked your shoes off the second the hotel room door clicked shut.

”Oh my gooood,” you groaned dramatically as you fell backwards on the bed. ”My feet.” 

Noah chuckled and plopped down on the bed beside you. Without a word, you rolled onto your side and tucked yourself against him, resting your head on his chest as you hooked one leg over his. His arm came around you instinctively, his fingertips drifting lazily up and down your spine.

You let out a contented hum, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

”Worth it though,” he said.

”Mhm,” you mumbled in agreement. ”It’s been a nice day.”

”Wanna take a nap?” he asked. ”I’ve made a reservation in three hours.” 

You looked up at him, a small smile playing on his lips.

”A reservation?”

”Yeah. At this nice little Italian place I’ve wanted to try since the last time we played here,” he said. ”I think you’ll like it.” 

The restaurant was tucked away on a quiet side street, far enough from the bustle and sirens of downtown that the city noise faded as the door of the restaurant closed behind you. 

The lighting was subdued, casting soft shadows across exposed brick walls and dark wooden tables. Large shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling displayed a large selection of wine bottles. There was soft music playing from hidden speakers, the sound mixing with the gentle hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery. The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with the rich scent of cooked garlic and fresh basil. Noah gave his name and the waiter led the two of you towards a secluded table in the very back of the restaurant. 

“This is nice,” you murmured as you sat down. 

Noah smiled. 

“I thought you’d like it.” 

Everything on the menu sounded good. You flipped the pages for what had to be the sixth time. 

“This is impossible.” 

He looked up from his own menu. 

“What is?” he asked. 

“Everything sounds so good,” you groaned. 

“Can’t decide?” 

You put your menu down on the table and started to point out everything that sounded good. Noah couldn’t help but grin.

The waiter came back with your drinks, lemonade for you and a glass of wine for him. 

“Have you decided?” 

You opened your mouth to say that you needed a little more time, but Noah was quicker. 

“Yeah, we’re ready to order,” he said, winking at you. 

You were? 

“We’ll take the burrata, the arancini and the fried calamari to start…” he began. “And then we’ll take the mushroom ravioli, the cacio e pepe, the eggplant parmigiana… We’ll also do the osso buco and the lasagna… You know what? We’ll do the grilled salmon and the vodka rigatoni too.” 

The waiter quickly jotted down the order and asked if you wanted a bread basket for the table, which Noah said that you wanted. When the waiter left, you simply stared at Noah who looked impossibly pleased with himself.

“Honey…” you laughed. “We’re two people! You’ve just ordered enough food to feed a small army.” 

“Technically…” Noah leaned forwards, putting both elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands. “We’re two and a half.” 

“You’re ridiculous."

“You love it.” 

You shook your head, unable to resist smiling. 

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I really do.” 

When the dishes started coming in, you could do nothing but laugh. Noah looked a little sheepish. The waiter placed the final plate on the table before taking a step back to admire his own balancing act. 

“Can I get you anything else?” 

You looked at the table, then at Noah, then at the waiter. 

“...Another table?” 

Noah shrugged. 

“Looks perfect to me!” 

The first few bites were spent in near silence. Not because you didn’t have anything to say, but because every dish Noah had ordered was somehow better than the one before it. You tore off another piece of focaccia before reaching over to try the ravioli. 

“...No.” 

Noah looked up. 

“What?” 

You lifted the dish from the middle of the table, placing it as close as possible to yourself. 

“This one is mine,” you declared. 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were sharing?” 

“We are. Just not this one.” 

He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. 

“Fine.”

The moment your attention drifted towards the window and the street outside, a fork entered your peripheral vision. 

“I can see you, you know,” you informed him. 

You turned back around just as he stabbed a ravioli, snatching it off your plate with a wide grin. 

“Quality control.” 

“I’ve already established that it’s good.” 

“I should probably double check though,” he winked at you. 

You glared at him as he chewed it. 

“That’s amazing.” 

“I know it is,” you stated. “...You absolute seagull.” 

He looked genuinely offended.

“Not you too!” he groaned. 

“You stole it!” 

“No,” he said. “I borrowed it.” 

“...You ate it.” 

“Ok… fair.” 

Neither of you could help but laugh. Moments later, Noah leaned back in his chair. Your eyes wandered to his hand as he lifted his wine glass to his lips, taking a sip. With long, tattooed fingers he swirled the wine in his glass. 

“You know…” he said. 

“Hmm?” 

“I guess we’re not turning the second guest room into an office after all.” 

You met his gaze. 

“We’re probably gonna need a nursery instead.” 

You smiled. 

“Yeah.” 

But then… 

“The guest bathroom still has to go though,” you deadpanned. 

“Agree. Those blue and brown tiles…” Noah began. 

“...Were definitely a choice.” you finished. 

“Criminal, truly.” 

Conversation with Noah always came so easily, drifting from one topic to another without either of you even noticing. Between bites of pasta and grilled salmon, you found yourselves talking about the house you had recently purchased. Rooms that needed painting, whether or not the garden could actually be salvaged or it needed to be completely redone. You reminded Noah of the shelf he had insisted he could hang up by himself that still hung at a questionable angle. He insisted that it was “artistically crooked”. You remained unconvinced. 

Somewhere along the way, sharing plates had turned from carefully dividing food between them into simply reaching across the table and stealing bites straight from each other's plates. Noah took the last arancini from your plate, you stole the last piece of lasagna from his. He fed you rigatoni from his own fork and even tried to suggest ordering desserts. It was effortless. Familiar. For a little while, the two of you simply existed in your own quiet little bubble. 

Noah turned the stem of his wine glass slowly between his fingers, watching the deep red liquid for a moment. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

You looked up from your plate. 

“Of course.” 

He hesitated for a moment before looking up at you.

“When do we tell people?”

You gave him a small smile. 

“Most people wait… Usually until after week 12.” 

“Do you know what week you’re in right now?” 

“I don’t think I’ll know for sure until next week,” you explained. “But probably five or six.” 

He let out a thoughtful hum. 

“So… That means telling people, other than Nick obviously, is pretty far away…?” 

“It’s… I mean, yeah.” 

Noah nodded slowly, a tiny crease appearing between his brows. 

“Okay,” he said quietly.

And yet his eyes lingered on the table for a second too long, his thumb tracing the rim of his glass of wine absentmindedly. His jaw tightened ever so slightly. You knew him well enough to recognise it. He understood. He just didn’t like it — and didn’t want to burden you with it. 

“You’re trying very hard to look okay with that,” you acknowledged. 

A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“Is that so obvious? 

“To me?” you reached across the table, dodging plates, and took his hand in yours. “Always.”

He looked down at your hands, where he was stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“It just seems very far away,” he whispered. 

“It does,” you agreed. 

"It's just… The first trimester is uncertain.” 

He looked up at you, but didn’t say anything. So you went on. 

“The risk of complications is higher early on.”

“Complications?” 

You swallowed. 

“Yeah. Like the risk of miscarriage,” you said gently. “A lot of people wait until around twelve weeks to tell family and friends because the risk of those kinds of complications decreases significantly in the second trimester.” 

Noah was quiet for a moment. 

“... I didn’t know that.”

You gave his hand a squeeze. Noah stared down at the table for a long moment. His thumb traced slow circles across the back of your hand before his fingers absentmindedly intertwined with yours. Your gaze drifted to the familiar mandala covering the back of his hand. You'd traced those lines countless times over the years, sometimes while watching television, sometimes lying in bed, sometimes without even realising you were doing it. For the first time in years, you really thought about the hand in yours. Not because it had changed. But because it would one day hold someone else as gently as it held you. 

“Could we… Could we at least tell the guys?” Noah asked hesitantly. 

“The guys?” 

“Just the band,” he clarified. “And Nick already knows. So just Jolly and Folio.” 

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was a quiet, pleading look in his eyes. And you knew exactly why. Not because he couldn’t keep a secret, but because they were his family. And if something were to happen, he’d need them to know why he was falling apart. 

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll tell them tomorrow.” 

“Together?” he asked.

“Together,” you confirmed. 

Noah smiled. A genuine smile that softened his features, finally erasing the tiny crease between his eyebrows. 

“They’re gonna lose their minds,” Noah stated simply. 

You couldn’t help but let out a high pitched laugh. 

“Yeah. They will.” 

Noah leaned back in his chair, still holding your hand in his. 

“I can’t wait to tell Jolly and Folio,” he said, pride etched in every line of his face. 

He laughed quietly to himself, almost shaking his head. 

“I can’t wait to tell them that I’m going to be a dad.”

---