─ 𝖌𝖎𝖌𝖎...

i had several drafts waiting, including the second part of the previous one, but between some complicated personal stuff and starting a new job (which is good, but stressful), i hadn’t been able to sit down, revise them, translate everything and actually like how they turned out. this one wasn’t even supposed to be this long… but things happened lol

i was thinking that my last post was a bj one-shot, and i don’t usually put that much effort into writing blowjobs, so this time i went all in on worshipping the reader instead

the first half is almost entirely plot — i think it makes the whole thing sweeter, hotter and more fun. but there are three little “cuts”, so if you want to skip straight to the smut, you can start from the third one. overall it’s pretty fluffy, but it gets properly dirty once the spice starts. noah is really sweet in this one, a little less cocky than in the last one i posted, but he still is. i adore him here

like i said last time, english isn’t my first language, so there might be some mistakes or repetitive words even though i re-read it several times, tried to vary the vocabulary and did some research while translating. i tried my best to keep the same feeling i had when i originally wrote it in spanish, so please be patient with me u.u' any feedback or advice is always welcome though! (:

also, i’ve never really talked about taking requests, but someone left me one for subby!folio and i actually squealed when i read it!!! i already have something half-written for that, so i’ll probably post it eventually (no promises on dates though, because translating and adapting everything to english always stresses me out and i need to be on my days off with a calm mind, and I'm also a little embarrassed to post some things, heh sjdhsd). this one was already halfway done and i finally managed to finish it these past few days

anyway, mucho texto. if you’re reading this, thank you so much and i really hope you enjoy it <3

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When you decided to move from Richmond to L.A., you didn't think the process would be this exhausting. You expected some chaos for a few weeks, of course, but even after the movers and your friends helped you haul everything you’d brought with you up the building's elevator, the work was nowhere near finished. You hadn't brought everything from home; your new little apartment was crammed with boxes in every corner, and you still had plenty of things left to buy.

You managed to get a lot done during the first week. Your priority was getting the living room ready, just to have a comfortable, decent space to look at every time you walked in—a good first impression for guests. You’d set up some furniture, a rug, a bookshelf for your books and vinyls, a record player, and a few decorations. Right in the middle, there was a coffee table and a sofa that had been a total nightmare to get up the elevator. It had given Noah, Jolly, and Davis a massive headache just trying to figure out how to squeeze it through the door.

"No, man, tilt it more to the right," Davis said, holding the end that was already inside the apartment.

"How the hell am I supposed to tilt it right when there’s a fucking wall next to me, D?" Noah snapped back, struggling with the other end.

Jolly and you watched closely. He had a smirk on his face, while you just looked completely drained.

"Let's try the left then."

"There’s another wall to my left, Davis!"

It had been a total mess. They argued for several minutes, and a neighbor even came by to ask if they needed help. Great, what a first impression! Two idiots fighting in the hallway. But somehow, by nighttime, the four of you ended up exhausted and crashed in the living room. Noah had claimed the sofa, stretching out on it —even though he didn't quite fit and his feet were dangling over one of the armrests. Jolly, Davis, and you sat on the floor, sharing a couple of pizzas and beers you’d ordered.

Over the next few days, you had to unpack more stuff. Some of the guys and the rest of your friends stopped by to help, making the whole thing go faster and feel a lot less overwhelming.

At a glance, the place was finally starting to look like a home. The kitchen had the basics: a table and chairs, your cookware, and small appliances like a blender, a toaster, and the coffee maker that had been with you since you started college four years ago. Even though your cabinets and fridge were still pretty much empty, and you’d basically been surviving on takeout from a Korean place down the street, it was getting there.

The bathroom was done too, but your bedroom was the one thing still left to finish.

You’d been sleeping on a mattress on the floor, and your clothes were still living in boxes. All you had set up was a nightstand and your desk with your computer ready for work.

Then, after you'd been there for a week, your bedroom furniture finally arrived. Noah, despite being busy all morning, had promised to come over and help you set it up.

His helpfulness didn't surprise you. He’d always been like that with you, ever since elementary school. Most of your friend group had grown up in Richmond, and you'd all been tight from the start.

But Noah and you had been a sort of inseparable duo since you were like seven. You lived in the same neighborhood and went to the same school. You’d shared so much over the years—from taking the bus to and from class together, studying, and doing homework, to playing outside or going out to ride bikes and skateboards with friends when you were kids. Then, as teenagers, you started going to parties together, or you'd tag along to his rehearsals and those early gigs his bands played in sketchy bars.

The two of you always swore it was just a solid friendship and nothing more. But everyone else suspected there was something else there. Something you didn't talk about, or maybe something you both just refused to see.

Still, you did have secrets you didn't share with the others. Like the nights you spent stargazing together while Noah practiced chords on that old secondhand guitar he’d bought back in eighth grade. Or the anime marathons when you both made excuses about having to study for an exam instead of going out with everyone else. And the sleepovers at his grandparents' house, where you’d end up sharing the same bed.

You had a great bond in general. It was secure, strong, and warm. You understood each other better than anyone else.

But if there was one secret you’d never share, it was the fact that, on more than one occasion, you’d actually kissed. It wasn't anything wild, though. You shared your first kiss at eleven years old out of simple curiosity while watching a movie. Back then, it just made both of you feel gross, and you wiped your lips right after trying it.

"Eww, why do adults like this?" You said with disgust at the time.

Noah mirrored your horrified expression. "I don’t know. Your tongue felt weird."

“Why did you even put your tongue in my mouth?!”

“I don't know, they were doing it!”

The second kiss happened at fifteen. It was a dare from your friends during a small hangout at Nick’s house when his parents were away and his sister was staying at a friend's. That night, you’d tried drinking for the first time, and since Noah already had a girlfriend, he had more experience than you did. It was a normal kiss, nothing over the top. But it left both of your hearts racing, even if you perfectly faked that it wasn't a big deal and went on with your lives like nothing happened.

The third and fourth kisses came at sixteen and eighteen. Same situations, different moments. Usually at parties, both of you having had a bit too much to drink. Maybe blurred by the alcohol or just bored with the night, you ended up kissing in a corner where no one could see you. Again, neither of you questioned it. You just took them as little slips, simple curiosity, or just a way to kill time. Noah had already dated several girls by then, nothing serious, and you’d tried having a relationship that turned out to be a bit of a failure.

None of the others ever found out. You knew that if they already teased you about that one kiss from the dare every now and then, the jokes would be never-ending if they knew it had happened more than once.

By the time you were nineteen, Noah and the guys had left Richmond for L.A. to chase their dreams of making it in music. After several attempts with different bands, he and Nick had managed to put together a stable lineup for a new project: Bad Omens. They’d had rehearsals and small gigs in bars back home, still without a set name but with a few songs that would lay the foundation for their future. They waited for Folio, the youngest, to graduate before moving and signing with a label that soon carved out a path for them in the industry.

You had stayed home to study, starting a Fine Arts degree with a major in photography, and experiencing a stable relationship for the first time. Your future, though not entirely guaranteed, seemed to have a clear path too. And even though you had new friends and a partner, you never lost touch with your old crew.

You talked to everyone every week, especially Noah, who kept insisting you should move to L.A. once you finished your degree so you could be close again. From a distance, you watched the band grow—their first album, their first big festival sets, and tours during those first two years. You’d only seen them a handful of times during that period, through fleeting visits or the occasional concert, moments that reminded you what it was like to spend every single day with them.

You were still undecided, but during your last year of college, your first serious relationship came to an end. Fortunately, it wasn't on bad terms. Maybe it hadn't been the most stable or thrilling relationship, in the best sense of the word, and maybe that guy had even left a lot to be desired… But missing having someone by your side to wake up with, or just to cuddle and watch a movie, made you miss what you’d had years ago with Noah even more. You didn't want to lose all of that as if it were just a passing phase in your life.

So, with nothing left tying you to Richmond, in the summer of 2018, after finishing your thesis and holding a photography exhibition in a gallery—which all your friends attended, taking a weekend off to support you—you finally made the choice.

That was how you ended up in a small apartment in Koreatown, with your friends coming and going to help you settle in.

And on the day your bedroom furniture finally arrived, Noah showed up with lunch and a toolbox he kept at the band house to help you put everything together.

"I hate this thing," he grunted, sitting on the floor and struggling with the tiny screws for the headboard.

You were folding your clothes and putting them away in the wardrobe you both had finished assembling an hour earlier.

"You can leave it if you want. I can figure out how to finish it later," you said softly.

"Nah, I'm not leaving until this bed is ready." He shook his head, focusing with his brows furrowed. "Maybe you should let me break it in as a reward for all my hard work." He dramatically wiped sweat from his forehead.

You turned around, arching an eyebrow at him while putting away some t-shirts.

"You are not putting your sweaty ass on my new sheets, Noah."

He let out a low chuckle and shrugged. "I can take a shower first. Besides, it’s getting too late to head back. We can have dinner, watch a movie, and then I’ll sleep like a baby on this thing."

You shook your head, sighing as you picked up a stack of pants to put them in their spot.

The simple thought of sharing a bed with Noah after all these years made your skin prickle.

"I don't think we’ll fit. You're a lot taller than the last time we slept on the same mattress," you pointed out.

He looked up from where he was holding a screwdriver against the wood of the headboard. He scanned you from head to toe, narrowing his eyes.

"Don't exaggerate, it's not like I'm seven feet tall. We can find a way for both of us to fit and— Shit..." He groaned when one of the screws slipped from his fingers. "Why do they make these things so tiny?"

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at that, walking over to grab the next box of clothes to put away. The one with your underwear and socks.

"Maybe they aren't tiny. Maybe you just have giant sausage fingers," you teased, picking up a few pairs of panties.

Noah turned toward you, his brows furrowed. He was about to snap back, defend himself from your accusation, and probably tease you about being so short compared to him. But when his eyes landed on what you were holding, he pressed his lips together and went back to looking for the screw on the floor.

"Well... having big hands has its advantages, you know?" he said softly, biting his tongue. "Oh, there you are, motherfucker," he snorted as he stood up, triumphantly holding the tiny screw between his fingers.

You shot him a sidelong glance as you walked over to tuck your panties into one of the wardrobe drawers.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" you blurted out without thinking, just out of the old habit of bickering and challenging each other.

But as soon as you turned back to grab your bras from the box and saw the smug smirk starting to spread across Noah's lips, you regretted it.

"Well..."

"Noah, don't," you warned, fixing your eyes on the box as you leaned down to grab your underwear, avoiding his gaze.

Noah quickly held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. But neither his smile nor his eyes showed a hint of it.

"Hey, I didn't say anything!" He defended himself. He let out a little chuckle, shaking his head and going back to screwing the wood together. "What were you thinking about, you perv?"

Your first instinct was to throw whatever you had in your hand at him—a bra that ended up draped over his head and falling slightly over his face. Heat flushed up your neck as you watched him catch it, laughing again.

"I wasn't thinking about anything weird. But I know you like the back of my hand."

He arched an eyebrow at you, his gaze quickly dropping to the garment between his fingers.

"I've had a few of these thrown at me on stage, I've been asked to rip some off in backstages and hotel rooms... but it's the first time a girl has thrown her underwear at me with such rage."

You let out a huff and marched over just to swat him on the head and snatch your bra back from his hands.

"Give me that." You grabbed it roughly and headed back to the wardrobe, keeping your back to him so he wouldn't notice the deep blush crawling up your face.

You heard another chuckle behind you while you put your things away.

"It's cute, anyway. The fabric is... soft."

"Shut up."

"Alright, alright. I'd forgotten how grumpy you get sometimes." He hissed. “But I know you love me anyway.”

You almost snapped back, but you chose to focus on finishing putting your clothes away instead, while he kept piecing the bed together. A long silence stretched between you for several minutes, with only the city sounds drifting in through the balcony and music from some bar across the street.

The silence wasn't awkward, and you were grateful for that. You’d never felt uncomfortable around him, and that brief moment of peace reminded you of the hundreds of times you’d been alone like this. You never had to fill the space with small talk because it just wasn't necessary. Afternoons where he’d practice guitar and you’d study for an exam, not sharing a single word, but feeling the warmth of each other's company.

It felt good to have that back.

Still, he was the one to break the silence.

"You know, you insisted a few times on giving me something for helping with all of this," he started, speaking slowly. You didn't turn to look at him, but you were listening. "I think I know how I want to collect..."

You took a deep breath.

"How much do you want?"

"Huh?"

"How much do you want?" you repeated.

"Y/n... I'm not talking about a payment, per se."

"No?"

You looked at each other then. You were confused, and he looked almost offended.

"How could you think I'd charge my best friend for helping her out?" He let out a huff. "But... going back to the bed thing. You could buy me dinner. I spent the last bit of cash in my wallet on gas and the stuff I brought for lunch." He gave a relaxed laugh. "Dinner, a movie, and sleeping on my masterpiece." He patted the bed, which was almost ready, as if it were his greatest pride. "I promise I'll shower."

You thought about it for a few seconds. It wouldn't be the first time you’d shared a sleeping space. There was no reason for it to be weird now if it never had been before. Finally, you nodded, this time with a calm smile.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

A warmth you hadn't seen in a long time, and that you’d truly missed, settled in his eyes.

"Yeah... doesn't sound too bad." His lips curved into a smile as he looked back at the wooden frame, shaking it slightly to make sure it was sturdy before standing up and leaning toward where the mattress was resting against the wall. "But maybe I’ll collect on another favor some other time."

You rolled your eyes. Things could never be perfectly simple with him around.

"I could do a free photoshoot for you if you want," you suggested.

He nodded, weighing the offer.

"Doesn't sound bad either, but Bryan already does that." He shrugged. "I mean, he gets paid for it. The label handles all that. And he doesn't even charge us for personal merch photos, so it doesn't really matter." He paused for a second as he picked up the mattress with absurd ease and tossed it into place.

You both stared at the finished job in silence.

"I’ll think of something," he said, acting like it was no big deal. Even though he already had a few things in mind he could ask of you—ranging from the stupidest ideas to the riskiest ones, the kind he knew would drive you crazy.

You didn't want to push it, and he didn't say anything else.

You just knew that any day now, he’d show up with an idea that he probably wouldn't let you say no to.

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Weeks went by, and with them came the adjustment to the city and your new chapter. Discovering new spots and getting into the rhythm of your friends' lives, as they quickly pulled you into everything they were doing. You’d managed to have a few promising talks with photography agencies that caught your eye while you worked on a personal project and occasionally pitched ideas for Bad Omens. Noah and the guys had even recommended you to their own agency, so you’d sent over your portfolio and had some paperwork to finish before the end of the month to set up an interview.

Everything seemed to be going well. It wasn't exactly like it used to be, since adult life brought its own set of worries, but everything else remained intact.

Rehearsals, shows, studio sessions, lazy afternoons at the guys' place or your apartment, dinners, laughs, and parties. All the missing puzzle pieces were finally back in place. You felt at home again.

You’d started spending one-on-one time with Noah again too. Every time he could grab a bit of free time to spend with you, he took it.

One afternoon in particular, he’d tagged along to help you go grocery shopping and finally stock your pantry and fridge. He helped you put everything away, stuffing the high shelves with things you wouldn't use or eat often, and once again, he suggested the usual plan: dinner and a movie.

"I saw you talking to some guy at the party last weekend. How’d that go?" He asked while you were both lounging on the couch, the TV on and a pizza box with two slices left sitting on the coffee table.

A beer rested in his relaxed hand. He was halfway through his third one, and you’d just started your second.

"Oh... nothing happened, really. He bought me a drink. He was flirting, but there was no, um... I don't know... spark?" You took a sip from your bottle, your eyes never leaving the thriller movie he’d picked out.

He shot you a sidelong glance.

"Spark..." he repeated, focusing on his beer. "You haven't been out with anyone since...?"

"Frank? No..." You shook your head, adjusting your position and tucking your legs up on the sofa. His eyes followed your every move. "After we broke up, I spent the last few months focusing on finishing my degree. And then I moved here, so I haven't really had much time for that either."

He nodded, shifting in his spot as well.

Once again, the silence wasn't awkward for you, but Noah seemed to be struggling with whether to ask more questions or try not to watch your expressions as you reacted to the movie. He’d missed this company, and the new routine you had, had brought a sense of peace to the chaos of being the frontman of a band that was already making a name for itself in the scene.

"And have you thought about it? I mean, dating again?" He asked casually— though the slight tremor of his fingers on the bottle suggested he was worried about sounding too forced—and took a quick swig of his beer.

You turned your head, locking eyes with him for the first time since the movie started. His dark gaze looked more curious than his voice had let on. You took a moment to really think about your answer.

"Mmm... I haven't ruled it out. But... I don't know." You shrugged. Then, you added in a more relaxed, teasing tone, "It's not as easy for everyone as it is for you, you know?"

Noah narrowed his eyes, searching your face.

"It's not that it's easy... It's just... letting things flow?"

"Great advice, Romeo," you said with a lopsided smile.

He rolled his eyes. "I promise it's not that complicated. I can give you lessons whenever you want." He gave you a wink.

That little gesture made you let out a huff, and you tried to focus on the movie again.

"Are you going to make me watch you make out with some girl at a party, or how exactly would these 'lessons' work?"

A loud laugh echoed through your living room, and it was impossible for you not to look at him again. He looked so pretty when he laughed, his eyes crinkling just a bit.

"That would be funny. But I was thinking about... I don't know, advice, maybe?"

You pursed your lips, trying to read past his relaxed expression.

"Advice on how to win over a man?"

"Yeah," he nodded without hesitation.

"And what do you know about it? Have you ever tried to win one over?" You arched an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your ribs.

Noah’s gaze dropped to your arms, and he quickly looked away when he noticed the simple action made your chest stand out in the top you were wearing.

A slow smile curved his lips.

"I’m a man too. I know what men like, and what they want." His voice was low, almost suggestive.

Want.

That word hung heavy in the air between you.

"Is this going to be some sexist crap about men liking women who cook or something like that?" You grunted.

"No. But that should be a universal thing. Taking care of the person you care about, no matter who you are or how you identify."

"You have a point. Go on."

Silence took over the room for a few seconds, interrupted only by the tense music of the movie and some dialogue from the characters. Noah watched you closely through his lashes, almost as if he were gauging your expression to figure out where to start.

"Most of us do like being pampered. Not necessarily in that way, but the... little things. Of course, that depends on the guy. But you’re probably more used to being called cute or having people compliment your outfit." His voice was calm, and he seemed to be taking the matter seriously. No jokes. "We’re used to giving the compliments, not hearing them as much. It’s rare to be called cute, and it can make someone's week."

You tilted your head with a bit of curiosity.

"Have you really never been called cute?"

He shook his head, a playful smile on his lips. "I’ve been told I’m hot, or fit. But cute? Nah."

Then, before you could even respond, he added:

"Wait, that's not true," he corrected himself, taking back his previous answer. "You called me 'cute' once back in sixth grade."

Your lips parted, and you stayed silent for a second. How did he still remember that?

"Yeah... You'd done your hair differently that day and you were wearing a shirt that looked good on you."

His eyes softened for a moment.

"Told you. Little details can make a week... or a whole lifetime."

You bit your tongue, thinking seriously about that. There were definitely things that had left a mark on you over time too. Things Noah had said or done, specifically. But you didn’t think he’d actually remember the things you’d said or done. He’d always seemed way more carefree than you.

You took a deep breath.

"What else?"

He pondered his next answer for a few seconds.

"We also like confidence when it comes to what someone wants or desires."

"Everyone likes that."

"True, but you know, it’s nice when you’re flirting with someone and they make it clear what they’re looking for. It doesn't have to be blunt, either, but it has to be honest."

You nodded. So far, it all sounded logical.

"Anything else, Professor?" You asked, sighing with exhaustion as you settled further into the sofa. One of your knees brushed against his thigh, but you didn't think much of it; you’d been much closer than that before.

He couldn't hide the mischievous smirk that spread across his lips when you called him that.

"Scents, eye contact, kisses, touches at the exact right moment," he listed calmly. "A nice perfume, a lingering look, and a soft squeeze on the arm can be your key to success."

You soaked up the information like a sponge. It wasn't anything crazy or out of this world. It was still logical. And the fact that he was being so logical was starting to worry you. Noah never missed a chance to turn a serious moment into a joke.

"You make some good points…  Is that it, or am I ready to go up to some guy at a party now?"

He just smirked.

"That’s your foundation. After that, it’s up to you to keep the conversation going and keep the guy interested."

And then, just like you suspected, he decided to mess it all up. He leaned in toward you, eyes narrowed and a look on his face that said whatever came out of his mouth next was probably going to get him yelled at.

"And if that doesn't work, you can always just get on your knees and give him some good head."

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard him. Your blood ran cold, and you were sure your face turned a thousand different shades of red in a matter of seconds.

"Noah!" You shrieked, shoving at his thighs with one foot. He caught it before you could actually kick him in the legs.

"What? I’m being honest, honey!" He let out a laugh, leaning back against the sofa cushions as if he hadn't just said something completely out of line. "We like that."

Your face burned, and you bit the inside of your cheek, looking away. Of course, you couldn't have a completely serious talk about a topic he could easily turn into an inappropriate joke. He’d always been like this.

You shook your head. It’s my own fault for asking.

But quickly, images from your previous relationship started flooding your mind. All those nights you’d spent in bed with your ex. It had been a preetty nice relationship, but you never really knew if what you were doing was right or not; you just let things flow. You didn't even know if everything your ex did was the "right" way, either, You remembered having better orgasms on your own, playing by yourself, than you ever had with him.

Maybe Noah noticed the gears turning in your head, because he gave your foot a gentle squeeze, his tattooed hand wrapping completely around it.

"What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You blinked a few times and scrunched up your nose. "Nothing."

He didn't believe you. The way you shifted uncomfortably in your spot and the flush on your cheeks gave you away.

"Come on, we’re close. You can tell me," he assured you, the joking tone gone from his voice.

His hand calmly stroked your foot, almost massaging it in an attempt to soothe you. But his thumb grazing the sole of your foot made you ticklish, and your skin prickled.

You bit your bottom lip, debating whether to say something else or just kick him and go back to focusing on the movie. But now you had a thousand questions.You’d always figured things out for each other, and clearly, Noah had more experience in these matters than you did. Maybe it was worth asking.

Just some simple advice.

"Mmm... It's just that I'm not sure how..." You looked down at your stomach, where your fingers trembled slightly against the fabric of your top. "Well... how that whole thing works properly."

He leaned in, paying closer attention now.

"You've never done it?"His voice came out raspy—thicker than he probably intended.

You shook your head quickly.

"No, no. I mean... I have. But— I... I don't know, it was weird." You shifted in your seat again. "It was... fast. It was always fast."

One of his eyebrows arched.

"Did he finish quickly?"

The bluntness of the question made your cheeks burn even hotter. God, you had never talked about any of this with anyone.

You nodded almost shyly.

Noah paused, looking like he was choosing his words with extreme care.

"...And what about you?"

"What do you mean?" You looked up with curiosity, your heart starting to pound against your ribs.

The way his dark, focused gaze stayed on you made you shiver.

"Did you finish fast too, or did he have to work harder to make sure you got there?"

Oh my God.

The bluntness of it, without a single trace of a joke in his voice, was enough to make your head spin. And you hadn't even had that much to drink.

The conversation was already starting to spiral out of your control.

"You know what? We don't have to—"

Noah noticed the hesitation in your voice and the way you shifted nervously. He cut you off calmly, trying to make sure things didn't get too awkward for you,

"I’m just trying to see what I’m dealing with so I can give you the right advice, Y/n." He shrugged, looking so composed it was almost overwhelming. "It’s me. We’ve known each other since we were what…? Six years old? You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

Yes, it was Noah. Your oldest friend. The person you’d always trusted, the one who knew everything about you. But over the last two years, even though you’d spent hours talking on the phone and texting, there were details you’d never touched on. Among them, your sex life with your only serious boyfriend. And you weren't kids anymore.

"God..." You closed your eyes, trying to keep it together. It’s just Noah. You can talk to him. "No, I didn't really... finish fast. And there were times when I just didn't... Like, I didn't..."

You looked away, feeling a wave of shame this time.

Noah shifted in his spot, straightening up a bit. You didn't notice, but along with the fresh squeeze he gave your foot, his free hand made a subtle move, adjusting his pants slightly. The gears in his head had been working overtime for several minutes now, too.

"There were times when you didn't finish?" His voice sounded airy, low. A chill ran down your spine, from your lower back all the way up to your neck.

You bit your lip and nodded shyly again.

He went silent for a moment, and finally, he clicked his tongue.

"Oh, babe. Have you just been having shitty sex all these years?"

"Noah!"

Once again, you tried to push him away with your foot, but you couldn't do a thing against the firmness of his large, tattooed hand on you. He wasn't squeezing hard, it wasn't painful, but it was incredibly firm.

He shook his head in disbelief, as if what he’d just heard was some kind of tragedy.

"How is that even possible?"

"How is what possible?" You glanced at him sideways, still feeling self-conscious.

He bit his tongue, but reached out with his free hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The touch made you go rigid. It shouldn't have affected you so much; he’d done it hundreds of times before. But for some reason, that night, with a bit of alcohol in your system and the soft L.A. night breeze drifting in through the balcony window, it did.

"How is it possible for a guy to be with a girl as pretty as you and not make her cry with pleasure?"

His voice was almost a lament, and his words hit your chest like a row of darts.

Pretty... and... Cry with pleasure?

"Is that even possible?" You huffed, almost a growl.

His thumb grazed your cheekbone as he stroked the side of your head. Instinctively, you leaned further into his hand, as if seeking out a touch you hadn't felt in a long time, and there was something in that small gesture that made his own chest burn.

"Of course it's possible, sweetheart," he murmured, his thumb moving over your cheek again.

He shifted a little closer, not letting go. His finger slid down from your cheek to your jaw to keep you looking his way, while he carefully scanned your features. Your pupils were dilated, and there was a pretty blush spreading across your nose and cheeks. He couldn't help but notice how you swallowed hard having him this close.

The heat from your bodies and your breath began to mingle. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he’d notice it in the vein of your neck if he was paying attention.

"Do you want me to show you?" Again, his voice was raspy and airy.

"Noah..." you tried to warn him.

"I’m just trying to help," he lied. It was more than helping that he wanted to do now. "And you owe me a favor, by the way."

That hit you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

He couldn't be asking for what you thought he was asking for, right?

"Is this why you saved that favor?" You let out another huff, scowling.

He shook his head, perfectly calm.

"No. I was planning on asking for something else. But now, I want to ask you to relax."

What did that even mean? What was happening?

"Just relax, and let me..." He bit his lip. "Let make you feel good." His thumb stroked your chin so calmly that the mix of his touch and his words almost made you melt into the sofa.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched you like this. Maybe you’d never been touched like this—as if you actually mattered.

But this was wrong. It was your childhood best friend who was touching you.

You’d kissed a few times, sure. But what Noah was offering now crossed every boundary of what a friendship was supposed to be.

"I... I don't think this is right." Your voice sounded less certain than you’d hoped.

He smiled again. "Since when do you question whether what we’ve done is right or not?"

You bit your lip, and the simple question almost made you gasp.

"Noah..." you tried to warn him again, but your body seemed to be betraying you. Even though it would have been easy to pull away or push him back, you didn't.

"Just let me take care of you, angel."

Angel.

Shit.

He knew exactly what to do or say to make you crumble. He didn't even have to ask. He knew you better than you probably knew yourself.

"Would you let me? Please?"

His voice was so soft, his eyes so warm despite the dark glint in them, that you finally started to wonder what was even holding you back.

Noah was handsome. He’d always been handsome to you. He had changed a bit; his hair was longer, and his attitude was more confident than you remembered from before he left Richmond. You watched him move through parties or meetings with a much stronger presence now. But deep down, he was still the same shy, sweet, and clumsy guy.

Your friend. Your Noah.

You’d been through a thousand things together. He was quite possibly the person you had leaned on the most, the one who had been by your side through everything, just as you had been by his.

And if there was anyone you could trust blindly, it was him.

You took a deep breath and tried to count to ten, praying you wouldn't regret what you were about to say.

"Okay."

He didn't laugh, he didn't tease you, and he didn't have any over-the-top reaction.

"Okay?"

"Mhm," you nodded slowly. "Yes."

He nodded back, just once, even slower. Giving you one last light caress, he finally let out a sigh.

"That's it. Good girl." His voice was almost a purr that made you shiver. "Come with me."

With that, he let go of your cheek and took your hand in his, calmly moving your leg off of him as he stood up from the couch. You looked at him, confused, but you let him pull you up and lead you toward the hallway.

"Where are we going?" The answer was obvious.

"I’m going to make you ruin those new sheets, gorgeous." He gave you a lopsided smile—confident, but without being cocky.

Your heart did that thing where it skips a beat. Maybe it did a few backflips and ran a marathon in your chest too.

ㅤ

ㅤ

The process was slow.

You made it to your bedroom, and it was nothing like you expected. You thought you’d just stand there not knowing what to do, or that he’d immediately lunged at you with a kiss. But Noah led you to the edge of the bed and signaled for you to stay there for a moment while he turned on the small lamp on your nightstand.

You watched his every move as he pulled a lighter from his back pocket and lit one of the vanilla-scented candles next to the lamp. One he had given you the day you moved in.

He turned around slowly, looking at you with that familiar warmth. But there was something in his eyes, a spark that made his gaze feel different under the dim light of the room.

He moved toward the window to draw the curtains.

"Privacy."

That was all he said. And that single word set something on fire in your chest, and much lower too.

He walked with the slowness of someone who has all the time in the world to stand before you, still leaving a cautious space between you while looking you straight in the eye. Your hands trembled slightly, not knowing where to put them, and he smiled.

His own hands went straight to the waistband of his pants, to his belt, unbuckling it calmly without ever taking his eyes off you. Your heart did another round of high-performance exercises in your chest. He took it off with such natural ease and leaned over to set it next to the candle. You seemed to be in a trance watching him in the silence of the room, and the only thing that woke you up was the thud of the belt hitting the wood.

Your body shuddered.

"Do you want me to...?" you started to ask, your voice a bit shaky.

"No." He shook his head gently. "No. That’s just so I can move more comfortably." He took another step closer, gauging your reactions. "I already told you. I want you to feel good today. You don’t have to do a single thing for me."

His voice was so sweet you thought you were dreaming. Your ex-boyfriend had never been this calm, not even during your first time.

"Can I...?" he spoke again, interrupting the memories that had started to drift through your mind.

You saw his hands hovering halfway, gesturing toward your waist. You could only nod.

Noah closed the distance with small steps, making sure not to take the long strides he usually did. He didn't want to invade your space all at once or make you flinch.

His hands landed on your waist. They were large and firm, but without squeezing too hard. The heat of his touch through the fabric made you shudder again.

"You’re trembling," he murmured, his thumbs stroking your sides in an attempt to soothe you. "Don’t be nervous, gorgeous. I’m not going to do anything you don't want, and I won't do anything you don't like."

You took a deep breath. "Okay."

"You can stop me at any time. Now, in five minutes, when I’m about to touch you more... even if I end up undressing you. You can say no. Understood?"

"Mhm."

"Please, use your words."

Another shaky breath. "Understood."

"Very good... Good girl."

That damn pet name again.

Good God.

One of Noah’s hands moved away from your waist, reaching up again to brush a stray lock of hair that had stubbornly fallen over your face. The touch felt even more electric than before.

Noah never broke eye contact. His hand slid slowly down your cheek until his thumb rested on your bottom lip, pressing with a gentleness that made you instinctively part your mouth. The contrast of his warm skin against yours was almost too much to handle.

"Are you going to kiss me already?" The whisper slipped from your lips before you could even process it, heavy with an impatience you didn't know you had.

Noah let out a low chuckle, a vibration you could feel because of how close he was. His fingers tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you in until your chest brushed against his torso.

"Are you in a hurry, angel?" he murmured, tilting his head just enough for his nose to graze yours. "I thought you’d want me to take my time."

He didn't give you a chance to respond. Noah closed the remaining distance with an agonizing slowness, brushing his lips against yours once, twice, before finally sealing them in a real kiss. It wasn't a sudden crash; it was a firm, wet, deep pressure that made you let out a muffled moan. Is this actually happening? His hands left your waist to slide up your back, pressing you tighter against him, while his tongue sought entry with a confidence that made your legs feel weak.

You clung to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his t-shirt, feeling the hardness of the muscles underneath. Noah broke the kiss, pulling back only a few millimeters, panting against your mouth.

"Your mouth is just as soft as I remembered..." His voice was a raspy sigh as he trailed the kiss down toward your jaw, leaving a path of fire before moving up to your ear. "Tell me if you like this."

You felt his teeth graze your earlobe before he sucked on it gently, and an electric spark shot down your spine, making your body arch further into him.

"Yes... Noah, I like that," you gasped, tilting your head back to give him more access to your neck.

He didn't waste any time. His hands moved down again, but this time they didn't stay over your clothes. You felt his long fingers slide under the hem of your top, seeking direct contact with your skin. The touch of his warm palms against your stomach made you catch your breath, and Noah let out a heavy sigh against the curve of your neck when he finally felt your bare skin.

His fingers traced your sides with a slowness that made you ache, moving up inch by inch until his thumbs grazed the bottom edge of your bra. You tensed up—not out of fear, but from the rush of anticipation coursing through you.

"Can I take this off?" He murmured, pulling back just enough to find your eyes in the dim light.

His gaze was dark, heavy with an intensity that made you weak all over again, but his hands remained an invitation, not a demand. You nodded, unable to find the words, and Noah helped you rid yourself of the clothes with extreme gentleness, leaving your torso bare under the warm glow of the candle and the small lamp.

The cool air of the room hit your skin, but the chill lasted only a second before Noah’s arms were around you again. His eyes roamed over every inch of you with a reverence that made you feel like you were the most precious thing he’d ever had in front of him.

"You’re... beautiful," he whispered, and this time there was a slight edge of urgency in his voice. His gaze was fixed on your exposed chest. "Look at those pretty tits."

That made you blush instantly. And without giving you a second to process the praise, his lips were back on yours, but the kiss wasn't just an exploration anymore. Now, it was a silent demand. His hands moved firmly toward the back of your thighs, lifting you off the ground with an ease that reminded you just how much his body outmatched yours in strength. You wrapped your legs around his waist by pure instinct, feeling the heat of his torso through his t-shirt against your bare chest as he guided you the few steps to the bed.

When your back hit the new sheets you’d bragged about earlier, Noah positioned himself over you, keeping his weight supported on his forearms so as not to let his full body drop onto yours.

"I told you I wanted you to feel good," he reminded you, his voice vibrating against your sternum as he began to press wet kisses along the top of your chest. "And I’m going to make sure of it, gorgeous."

Noah pulled back just a few inches, enough to pull his t-shirt over his head in one quick, fluid motion. With his torso bare, the candlelight danced over the dark ink covering his skin, making his tattoo designs seem to come to life. Seeing him like that, so imposing and yet so devoted to you, sent a surge of desire through your belly unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

With your ex, sex had always been functional, almost choreographed, with your needs pushed to the background. But Noah... Noah looked at you like you were a miracle.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to stop touching you," he confessed in a whisper, capturing your lips in another deep kiss, hungrier this time, as his hands finally laid claim to your breasts.

The feel of his large palms surrounding you made you let out a moan that he swallowed instantly. His thumbs began to move in slow, steady circles, capturing those pretty buds at the tips until he felt them reacting to his touch, hardening. The pressure was perfect—firm, as if he were memorizing your texture.

He trailed his kisses down your sternum, leaving a warm, wet path that made you arch your back against the sheets. Every time his stubble grazed your skin, a shiver ran through your entire body. When his mouth closed around one of your nipples, sucking with agonizing slowness, you gripped the sheets, bunching them up as you let out a broken gasp.

"Noah... please..."

"Shhh, easy, baby. I've got you," he murmured against your skin before moving down toward your stomach.

His kisses descended inch by inch, pausing to trace a path toward your belly button with his tongue. You could feel the urgency building inside you, a heavy, damp heat settling between your legs that was screaming for his attention. But Noah took his time, savoring every little reaction from your body, every shudder, and the way your breathing became more erratic.

He stopped right at the waistband of your pants, resting his forehead against your belly as he caught his breath. You felt his hands move up again to lace his fingers with yours, pinning you to the bed.

"This is all about you," he said, looking up to meet your eyes. His brown eyes were smoldering, clouded with desire.  Once again, he asked for permission. "Can I keep going?"

As soon as you nodded, Noah shifted just enough to reach the button of your pants. His fingers moved with a precision that made you tremble, sliding the zipper down with a sound that seemed to echo in the silence of the room. He began to pull the garment down with agonizing slowness, stopping every few inches to leave a wet kiss on the skin he was uncovering—your hips, the tops of your thighs, even the curve of your knees when he finally freed your legs.

He took the time to gently kiss the side of your calf before tossing your pants to the side of the bed, treating you with a gentleness that made you feel like you were made of glass.

His hands moved up again, stroking the inside of your thighs with open palms, sliding up with a slowness that made you internally beg for him to reach where the heat was most intense. He stopped right at the edge of your panties, his long fingers barely brushing the fabric. His eyes locked onto yours, a silent question that you answered by slightly arching your hips toward him.

Noah hooked his thumbs into the fabric and slid it down. When you were finally fully exposed to him, instinct made you close your legs a bit, trying to hide yourself.

Noah let out a soft click of his tongue, a sound of playful disapproval that made you look at him.

"Nuh-uh... Don’t do that, honey," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Don’t hide from me. There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of."

His hands moved to the inside of your knees, pressing firmly but without force, guiding you.

"Open your legs for me, pretty girl. Let me get a good look at you."

You exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding and gave in, letting him clear the way. Noah caught his breath instantly, his tattooed shoulders tensing as his gaze roamed over what he had just revealed. He stayed silent for a few seconds, just processing the sight under the candlelight.

"Holy shit..." He whispered, his gaze darkening completely. "You have such a gorgeous cunt. It’s perfect."

That brutal honesty, spoken with such devotion, made a new kind of heat explode in your chest. Noah leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of your hips, never taking his eyes off you.

"Do you even realize it?" he continued, his voice vibrating with an intensity that made your skin prickle. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life... And I’m going to savor every single part of you."

Noah didn't go straight for his goal. He took his time, propping his elbows on the mattress and framing your pelvis with his large hands while his eyes stayed fixed on the way your ragged breathing made your chest heave. His hands slid down, his fingers starting to trace invisible patterns over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, closing in and then pulling away from the center of your heat in an agonizing dance that made you claw at the sheets.

"Noah..." His name left your lips as a shaky plea, a silent broken whisper..

He gave a small, satisfied smirk at the way you reacted to his touch. He lowered his head and began pressing wet kisses into the crease of your thighs, right where the skin meets your pelvis. The contrast of his hot tongue and the cool air of the room made you let out a stifled moan. He kissed the fold of your groin once, twice, before moving up to lick the skin of your mons pubis with a slowness that made you see stars.

You felt your hips start to move by instinct, searching for the direct contact he was deliberately denying you. The damp heat between your legs was an undeniable presence now, an urgency throbbing with every second he took to explore your skin.

Noah noticed your impatience. He felt your thighs tense and your body reach for his, and finally, he let out a heavy sigh that ghosted directly against your heat.

"Look at you... you're already so soaked for me," he murmured, and the tone of his voice—so low and gravelly—was the final spark.

Without warning, Noah used his thumbs to spread you with expert gentleness, exposing the small bud of your pleasure to the candlelight. He leaned in and pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss right there, before his tongue made its real appearance. That first direct contact was like a bolt of electricity shooting up your spine to the base of your skull.

"Mmm..." A small whimper slipped past your lips.

Noah began to savor you with long, firm strokes, tasting every inch of you while his fingers dug into the softness of your ass to anchor you to him.

You squeezed your eyes shut, throwing your head back as the entire world narrowed down to the exact spot where Noah’s mouth was working wonders. It was a feeling of total, perfect surrender; there was no rush, no clumsiness. Only the sound of your own erratic breathing and the steady rhythm of his mouth, which seemed to know exactly where to press and just how hard to suck to completely undo you.

The pleasure was so sharp that you instinctively squeezed your thighs together, but Noah wouldn't let you close up. His hands moved from your ass to your groin, holding you open for him. You felt the graze of his long fingers searching for your entrance—slick and throbbing from his tongue—before one of them pushed slowly inside.

You let out a muffled gasp, your fists bunching up the sheets. It had been so long since you’d felt anyone like this that the simple contact of a single finger felt immense, reclaiming a space you’d forgotten could be so sensitive when someone else invaded it. Noah paused for a second, giving your muscles time to relax and wrap around him before he began to move with deliberate slowness.

"Mmm, you’re so tight, angel..." he murmured against your skin, his hot breath sending a fresh jolt through your nerves.

Soon, a second finger joined the first, stretching you with a slowness that made you arch your back. The rhythm of his mouth against your clit didn't falter, coordinating perfectly with the steady motion of his hand. Noah curved his fingers upward, pressing against that spongy spot that made you let out a moan louder than you’d intended.

You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to stifle the sound, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. The shyness of doing this with Noah was still there, fighting against the wave of pleasure threatening to break you.

Noah lifted his head just a fraction, his lips glistening under the candlelight, and he looked at you with an intensity that took your breath away.

"Don’t do that," he whispered, his voice rasper than ever. "I want to hear you. I want to know exactly what I’m doing to you."

His fingers picked up the pace, pressing harder against that exact spot, while his tongue refocused on your core with faster, hungrier strokes. You felt the tension in your belly tighten into a knot, a searing pressure screaming to be released.

"Let it go, gorgeous. All of it... just let it out for me," he encouraged, his free hand sliding up to caress your thigh as the world began to blur around you. "Those sounds are beautiful. Don’t hold back."

You closed your eyes and surrendered, your moans becoming more unsettled and deep as the first orgasm of the night began to rack your body, dictated entirely by the mouth and hands of your best friend. It was an explosion that started deep in your womb, a tidal wave of molten heat that numbed you all the way to your fingertips. You felt your muscles contract rhythmically around Noah’s fingers, trapping them, as your back arched violently against the sheets.

Your hands flew down desperately to his head, burying your fingers in his hair—not to push him away, but to hold him there, anchoring yourself to the only reality that mattered while you came in his mouth. Noah didn't stop; on the contrary, he intensified the suction and the motion of his fingers, overstimulating you right at the peak of your pleasure, forcing a cry from your throat that vanished into the silence of the room.

You writhed beneath him, trembling uncontrollably, feeling every nerve ending in your body flare and fade at his mercy. Only when the last spasm finally subsided did Noah ease the pressure. He took a second to press a slow, wet kiss against your still-throbbing heat before starting his ascent.

His lips traced the path of warmth he had just ignited, leaving soft kisses on your belly and sides while his hands moved back up to reclaim your breasts, kneading them with a gentleness that made you feel like you were floating.The contrast of his two-day stubble grazing your sensitive, prickled skin slowly brought you back to reality.

When his eyes finally met yours, Noah had that dark, satisfied look, his lips and chin glistening with the trace of you that still lingered on them.  He leaned over your face, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before whispering directly against your mouth,

"You taste so fucking good, don't you, baby?" His voice was a low growl, heavy with a confidence that made you shudder all over again as he began to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "Even better than I imagined."

Noah let out a long sigh, a mix of exhaustion and a deep satisfaction that seemed to radiate from every pore. Instead of pushing further, he let himself sink slowly onto you, keeping his weight on his elbows so as not to crush you, and buried his face in the crook of your neck and chest. You could feel his hot, heavy breath against your still-sensitive skin.

You lay there, catching your breath, your heart thrumming wildly in your chest, realizing that for the first time in your life, you hadn't had to fake it for a single second. Noah knew you; he had read you perfectly.

Your hands, still trembling, moved to his hair again, stroking the chestnut strands with a tenderness that made something twist in both of your chests, even if neither of you would admit it out loud. It was a strangely domestic and sweet moment, surrounded by the scent of the candle and the silence of your new apartment. However, you couldn't ignore the firm, persistent pressure of his crotch against your thigh; Noah was achingly hard, yet he seemed perfectly willing to ignore it.

Did he get that hard just from eating me out?

"That was... incredible," you managed to say, your voice still a raspy, broken thread.

Noah pressed a soft kiss to the base of your throat without lifting his head.

"It was," he whispered against your skin. "Rest for a bit, angel. There’s no rush."

His generosity moved you, but there was something else simmering inside. The vulnerability of having been completely undone before him had given you a new kind of confidence, a spark of playfulness you didn't know you possessed. You bit your bottom lip, watching his tattooed shoulders rise and fall with his breath.

"Noah..." you called out softly.

He let out a low hum, an invitation for you to continue, without moving from his refuge against your chest, savoring the way you stroked his hair.

"You said you could make me cry from the pleasure..." you let out, repeating his own words from earlier. Your voice sounded a bit steadier, more defiant. "And I’m not crying yet."

The effect was instantaneous. Noah went rigid under your fingers, and the silence that followed was charged. Slowly, he lifted his head, pulling away from your chest to lock his eyes onto yours. His gaze was no longer just warm; it had darkened, his pupils so blown that the brown of his irises was barely visible. The desire he’d been trying to curb exploded across his face.

He caught his breath for a second, processing your invitation, before a slow, dangerous smirk spread across his lips.

"Are you sure about what you're asking for?" He asked, his voice dropping to a register so deep you felt it vibrate in your own pelvis.  "Because if we keep going, baby, I won’t be as merciful as I was a moment ago."

He didn't wait for you to answer with words; your gaze told him everything. Noah sat up in one fluid motion, moving to the edge of the mattress. He stood by the side of the bed, turning his back to you for a second as he kicked off his pants. The candlelight traced the muscles of his back and the map of ink running down his legs, but when he finally turned around to step out of his boxers and stand fully exposed, the air snagged in your throat.

"Shit..." you whispered, unable to help yourself, your eyes fixed on the way his erection—long, thick, and heavy with veins—tensed with his every move.

Noah was a 6’3” man; logically, everything about him was proportional... but seeing him like this, so real and so close, sent a small, involuntary flicker of panic through you. He was considerably larger than your ex, and the realization that all of that was about to be for you made you go wet all over again.

Noah caught the shift in your expression immediately. He sat back down on the mattress, crawling closer to you with that calm only he knew how to project, and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand.

"Hey..." he murmured, his smile softening, almost apologetic. "I was kidding about the mercy, angel. I’m not going to hurt you, you know that, right? We’ll go at your pace."

You nodded, swallowing hard as he moved to settle between your legs, letting his heat radiate against your thighs. Before going any further, Noah paused, bracing his hands on either side of your head.

"Are you on something?" He asked, his voice regaining a serious, responsible edge. "Because I... I didn't bring anything with me."

You looked at him for a moment, blinking, and let out a small, nervous laugh mixed with a bit of playful scolding.

"Wow, Noah Sebastian... I thought you were more prepared than this."

He crinkled his nose, feigning an offense he didn't feel, but then his shoulders slumped slightly and he averted his gaze toward your lips, a spark of genuine shyness flickering in his dark eyes.

"I am prepared," he defended himself. ”I always carry protection when I know I’m going to need it, I’ve never been reckless... But never, not in a million years, did I think I’d actually have the chance to use a condom with you. I didn’t think you’d ever let me get this close."

That confession made your heart skip a beat and now it felt like it had gone straight to the Olympics, thumping with a renewed force inside your chest. It wasn't a lack of planning; it was that, to him, you were someone so precious and out of reach that he hadn't even allowed himself to assume this would happen.

"Yes..." you managed to say, your voice softening completely. " I’m on the pill, Noah. It’s okay."

He let out a long sigh of relief, a vibration you felt through your entire body, and kissed you again, slower this time.

"Thank God," he whispered against your lips.

Noah moved back down to your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses that made your body arch before stopping to suck gently on the skin just above your collarbone. His hands moved firmly to the sides of your hips, using them to lift you just a fraction and settle himself better between your legs. He braced himself upright for a moment, and the sight of his tattooed torso, illuminated by the flickering candlelight as he loomed over you, took your breath away.

Without warning, you felt the first contact. Noah brought his erection close to your heat, dragging the head of his cock with agonizing slowness along the entire length of your slit. A low growl escaped his throat as he felt the searing warmth radiating from you. You gasped, closing your eyes, as he pressed against your clit, moving up and down to make you whimper.

Noah seemed entranced. His eyes dropped to watch how his own pre-come mingled with the slickness of your previous orgasm, creating a sinful sheen over his skin. He used two fingers to collect some of that shared trail and smeared it down his shaft, lubricating himself with a slowness that made you internally beg for him to end the torture.

Finally, you felt the pressure of the large, swollen tip against your entrance. Noah didn't shove; he just tested the waters, feeling your walls begin to yield and stretch to welcome him. You shuddered, bucking your hips toward him in a reflex of pure impatience.

"Goddammit..." Noah let out a raspy curse, gritting his teeth as he let the head of his cock slip inside.

The direct, skin-to-skin contact was something so new and overwhelming for both of you that the air seemed to hum. Noah looked just as affected as you were; being inside you, with nothing in between, made him tremble. You felt incredibly tight around him, so much more than you had been with his fingers.

"Breathe, angel... just breathe for me," he murmured, his voice strained with a superhuman effort not to lose control. "I’m gonna go slow. You tell me if it’s too much."

Noah began to sink into you slowly, inching his way forward. You let out a whispered curse, feeling the real, powerful intrusion; he was definitely larger than anything you had ever felt before, claiming a space that made you feel full in a way that was almost painful yet exquisite.

He didn't take his eyes off you, checking every small twitch of your face, every gasp, ready to stop if you asked him to.

"That’s it... almost there, beautiful. Just a little more," he encouraged, his voice vibrating in the air as he finished burying himself deep inside.

He stayed there, completely still, letting your muscles adjust to his size and letting the heat of both your bodies melt into one. Noah leaned down again to catch your lips in a deep kiss, sharing your ragged breaths as he waited for either your body or your mouth to give him the signal to start moving.

You felt as though there wasn't a single millimeter of free space left inside you. Noah filled you so completely that you could've sworn you felt him pressing against your very core, expanding you from within. It was an overwhelming sensation, but the warmth radiating from his body soothed you through the intensity. You tried to take those deep breaths he’d asked for, letting your muscles relax and mold themselves around his hardness.

In a reflex, your nails dug slightly into his shoulder blades, searching for a handhold. That small sting against his back made Noah react by pressing his hips even harder against yours. You both hissed in unison at the depth of the friction—a sound heavy with pleasure and a hint of exquisite ache that forced you to break the kiss to catch your breath.

You stayed like that for an eternal minute, foreheads pressed together, both your hearts thumping at the same wild pace. Noah didn't move, keeping his unspoken promise to wait until you were ready, though you could see by the tension in his jaw and the glint in his eyes just how much it was costing him to hold back.

Finally, you slid a hand down his back in a soft caress, seeking out his eyes in the shadows.

"You can move, Noah... I’m okay," you whispered, giving a small nod. "Move."

Noah let out a shaky sigh and, without pulling away from your lips, began to tilt his hips. These were measured thrusts—slow and incredibly deep. He didn't pull out far, preferring to maintain that total connection, grinding against your hot, slick walls with a precision that made you arch your back.

"Shit, gorgeous... you feel so... so good," he growled near your ear, his voice breaking from the strain of keeping the rhythm under control. “You’re taking me so well.”

Every time his hips collided with yours, a fresh jolt of pleasure surged through your body. The sensation of Noah sliding inside you was a thousand times more intense than you’d ever imagined. Bit by bit, he began to pick up the tempo, gaining confidence as he heard your gasps and felt your legs tighten around his waist, urging him on.

The sound of skin softly slapping and the friction of your bare chests became the only soundtrack in the room. Noah buried his face in the crook of your shoulder for a moment, letting his thrusts become more fluid and sure. He lifted his face, his right hand moving down to find yours, forcing you to look at him again.

"Look at me," he pleaded in a low breath. "I want to see that pretty face while you take this cock."

Noah didn't wait for you to process his words. As soon as your eyes locked onto his, he drove his hips home with renewed force, establishing a steady grind that forced a sharp moan from your throat. Physically, it was a total takeover; each thrust felt like he was claiming territory, stretching your walls and forcing you to focus solely on the point where your bodies met. Emotionally, your mind was trying to make sense of what was happening. It’s Noah, you thought between gasps. The same guy who helped you move, the one who made you laugh, who knew your deepest fears, the one who had put together the very bed where he was fucking you like you’d never been fucked before... and in that precise moment, it felt so goddamn right to have him there, inside you, that the idea of it being "wrong" to be with your best friend dissolved with every stroke.

"Noah... a little more... faster," you pleaded, your hands sliding up his tattooed arms until you gripped his shoulders.

He didn't hesitate. His eyes darkened even further as he began to steadily pick up speed. The sound in the room shifted; now it was the rhythmic echo of sweaty skin slapping together and the wet squelch of shared slickness filling the air.

"Goddamn, babe... you look beautiful like this," he let out, his breath turning into a short grunt with every lunge. "You’re squeezing me so tight that..." Noah let out a raspy, almost disbelieving laugh as he kept driving into you. "Now I get why your ex couldn't last. You’re so fucking tight I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna make it myself."

Despite the intensity, the joke made a choppy laugh escape you. A moment of pure connection that you could only share with him.

"Shut up, Noah!" You laughed, pulling on the back of his neck to draw him closer. You kissed him with a desperate hunger, mixing the taste of your breaths together. "Go faster. Don’t you dare stop."

He stepped up to the challenge. His thrusts turned frantic, losing every bit of the patience he’d shown at the start. You felt the head of his cock pressing deep, grazing your cervix with a precision that made you let out a sharp cry of surprise and pure bliss. You arched violently against the mattress, your legs locking even tighter around his waist, feeling every inch of your insides vibrating from his size.

"Yes! Right there! Noah, just like that!" You shrieked, completely losing any sense of shame.

"I’ve got you, baby... I’ve got you," he growled, his hands gripping your hips firmly, adding more power to every strike, while his gaze remained locked onto yours, devouring you as he claimed you in the most unrelenting way possible. “That’s it… pretty girl, just like that”

Noah watched you with a raw hunger that made you burn from the inside out, his pupils drinking in every single one of your reactions. Without slowing the pace of his lunges, he slid one of his tattooed hands between your bodies, seeking out the center of your pleasure with pinpoint accuracy. As soon as his fingers made contact with your clit, the world exploded.

You shuddered violently, your nails digging into his shoulders as a second orgasm began to climb up your spine with a force that left you breathless. Noah didn't stop; even as your walls clamped down around him in uncontrollable spasms, he kept driving into you with relentless firmness, forcing you to process every inch of his size while you came again.

"Noah... I can’t..." You gasped, your breath turning into a constant whimper. Your senses were at their limit, the overstimulation so real that your vision was beginning to blur.

But Noah had other plans. He wanted to give you the best sex of your life, and he wasn't going to settle for just two orgasms.

"You can take another one, doll. I know you can," he murmured against your ear, his voice a possessive snarl as his fingers went back to work on you, perfectly coordinated with the frantic sway of his hips.

You felt the electric pressure building again almost instantly. Your eyes welled up, tears of pure bliss starting to slide down your temples as you writhed beneath him. You couldn't believe your body was capable of feeling this much, of vibrating this way just from the touch and the invasion of your best friend.

When the third orgasm hit you, it was more shattering than the ones before, a shockwave so powerful you lost all sense of where you ended and he began. You squeezed him with such force that Noah let out a choked cry and had to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as his own spasms began to surface.

"Fuck... I love this pussy," he groaned against your skin, his voice cracked with urgency. "It's going to drive me insane."

Noah braced himself upright again, his arms corded and veins bulging under the ink from the effort, just to see with his own eyes how your slick, throbbing heat swallowed every one of his thrusts. The sight seemed to be the final trigger for him. His lunges became deeper, more frantic, seeking that sensitive spot inside you to try and steal one last orgasm before reaching his own.

Each stroke was a steady hammering against your cervix, an invasion so profound you felt like you were coming apart. You began to shriek, a sharp, broken sound that mingled with the echo of slapping skin. Tears of pleasure blurred your vision completely as you shook your head against the pillow, your hands gripping his tensed forearms as if they were the only solid thing in a world falling to pieces.

"Noah... please... I-I can't take any more..." You whined, your body trembling in a constant note of extreme sensitivity.

He looked down at you, his face contorted by the strain and desire, the veins in his neck standing out as he fought not to come too soon. His eyes were bloodshot, locked onto yours with a primal urgency.

"Can I...?" he managed to growl, his voice barely a broken whisper while he kept the rhythm. "Can I come inside you, baby? Tell me yes."

Despite the haze in your mind, you understood exactly what he was asking. It was the most absolute act of intimacy you could give him, the final seal that on this night, your friendship had mutated into something much more voracious.

"Yes... yes, please... fill me up, Noah," you pleaded, arching your pelvis toward him in a desperate invitation.

Noah let out a raspy roar and, using his fingers one last time against your clit with ruthless precision, he pushed you over the edge. You came apart in a fourth orgasm, one that felt like your entire body was melting. Your walls, slick and hot, contracted with exquisite violence around him, drawing him in, and that was the signal his body needed.

Noah buried himself to the hilt, his hips crashing hard against yours as he let out a choked groan that was lost against your chest. You felt the dense, thick warmth of his seed spilling inside you, a sensation of fullness so deep it made you sob. He stayed there, anchored deep within you, as the final spasms racked both of your bodies in unison.

Finally, his strength gave out. Noah’s face fell heavily against your chest, his breath hitched, his lungs searching desperately for air. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and powerful, drumming against your own ribs, as silence returned to the room, broken only by your exhausted gasps.

Noah didn't move right away; he stayed there, enveloping you with his massive frame, as if he needed to process that finally, after all this time, he had made you his in the bed he had built for you himself.

You lay there, fused to one another, Noah keeping his face hidden in the crook of your neck as if the outside world had ceased to exist. It took a couple of minutes for oxygen to return to your lungs and for Noah’s heart to stop pounding with such raw ferocity against your chest.

Finally, he lifted his head, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. His eyes were clearer now, regaining that sweet glint, though they were still glassy from the effort.

"That was... fucking incredible, angel," he whispered before leaning in to give you a soft, slow kiss, heavy with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

With a heavy sigh, Noah  began to pull himself up to slide out of you. He did it with extreme slowness, letting every inch of friction be felt one last time. He stayed kneeling between your legs for a moment, in silence, his gaze fixed on the contrast of his tattooed skin against yours. He watched as his own seed began to slowly seep from your heat, slicking down your damp skin.

Noah let out a low hiss, his jaw tightening again.

"Shit... I’ve never done that," he admitted, his voice raspy, his gaze darkening for a second. "It’s so fucking hot."

He reached out and, with two fingers, caught some of the fluid that threatened to stain the already messy sheets, gently pushing it back inside you. The contact of his fingers inside you again made you let out a sharp moan, almost a startle, and you instinctively clamped your legs shut.

"Noah... stop... that’s enough." You managed to say through nervous laughter and gasps. You were so sensitive that any touch felt like a live wire against your skin.

He let out a low chuckle, a vibration full of satisfaction, and finally flopped down beside you, wiping his hand slightly on the sheets. He propped himself up on one elbow to face you, watching you with a warmth so absurdly sweet it made you feel like you could melt all over again. With his clean hand, Noah carefully brushed away the strands of hair that sweat and tears had plastered to your forehead and cheeks, taking care of you even when his own long hair was a tangled, sweaty mess—looking just as wrecked as you, if not worse. He traced your face with his fingertips as if he were memorizing every feature.

"You did end up crying after all," he murmured with a goofy smile, his eyes tracing the path of moisture on your cheeks. "You okay, princess?"

You nodded, still a bit dazed, feeling the weight of four orgasms clouding your senses in the best possible way. You curled into his side, seeking the warmth of his tattooed arm, and Noah pulled you in immediately, tucking you against his body while pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"I’m better than okay, Noah," you sighed, closing your eyes. "Way better than okay."

You stayed like that for a long time, your breathing returning to normal while the lamp light and the flickering candle cast long, dancing shadows over your naked, intertwined bodies. The silence wasn't awkward, but it was thick, heavy with a satisfaction that neither of you could quite process yet.

Noah broke the quiet with a sigh, shifting slightly to settle his head better against the pillow.

"Hey... can I ask you for another favor?" He blurted out, his voice regaining that playful edge you knew so well.

You let out a huff against his chest, closing your eyes with exhaustion, already knowing some stupid proposal was probably coming. "Noah, for God's sake... today's first favor ended with us like this. What else could you possibly want now?"

He let out a vibrant laugh that you felt through your entire body. He hesitated for a second, squeezing you a bit tighter against his side, and when he spoke again, his tone was a mix of shyness and restrained desire.

"Well... I was wondering if we could do this again. Not another round today, my body wouldn't hold up, and yours even less... but another day. Can we?"

You looked up to find his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat again, a sensation of warmth different from the sex. It was something deeper, something that burned with a sweet ache. He wanted a repeat. You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break through.

"I don't know, Noah... I don't know if my body is capable of handling another night like this with you," you teased.

He let out an exaggerated pout, knitting his brows into a puppy-dog look you knew he only used when he wanted to win an argument.

"Please, baby... don't tell me no," he insisted, going back to being that same annoying friend as always, but with a new spark in his gaze. "I think my dick finally found its place in the world. You can't take that away from him now."

You gave his chest a light swat, feeling the heat of his skin, and told him to shut up as a blush crept up your neck.

"You're an idiot, shut up!" You laughed, hiding your face against his shoulder. You stayed quiet for a second before adding in a whisper, "Maybe... I could think about it."

Noah grinned from ear to ear, an expression of absolute triumph. "I knew you loved me."

You let out a groan, feigning an exhaustion that was actually pure adoration. "Unfortunately, yes, Noah."

It was a phrase you’d said to each other a thousand times since you were kids, but this time, the weight of the words was different. It carried the taste of his skin, the scent of sex, the vanilla candle, and the echo of your moans still lingering in the air.

Noah turned serious for a moment, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you too, angel. So damn much."

But, being Noah, he couldn't let the seriousness last too long. He let out a dramatic sigh and added, "And I love your tits... and your pussy... why didn’t we ever fuck before? I could spend my whole life buried inside that sweet, tight, pretty cu—"

"Go to sleep already!" You exclaimed, unable to stop yourself from laughing as you felt your cheeks burn against his skin.

"Fine, fine... but I love you," he repeated, settling in further and closing his eyes with a smug smile. “Always have.”

You curled up closer, letting sleep finally begin to win the battle, protected by his tattooed arms.

"I love you too, cute boy," you finally answered, letting the now definitive silence wrap around you both until sleep claimed you both.

ㅤ

“Open up a little wider.” The command was soft, yet firm.

Your lips parted, letting out a nervous sigh as you waited for the next bite of whatever he was about to offer you this time. You couldn't see a thing, but you could feel the heat of Noah’s presence looming over you.

The camera was on, recording the whole sequence. Both of you were tucked into the sofa of the house you shared with the rest of the guys, and the coffee table in front of you was a mess of candy, snacks, fruit, and drinks.

Noah didn’t know how he’d ended up agreeing to film this challenge. Or maybe he did, but he refused to admit it to himself while his eyes traced the line of your jaw with an intensity the camera wouldn't quite catch.

You had a YouTube channel where you uploaded weekly vlogs, covers, and fun challenges, documenting your days with your group of friends after moving into a huge house together, while they were working hard on the small band they were trying to get off the ground.

Noah was no stranger to filming himself doing stupid things—his Vine already had a loyal following at this point—so collaborating on silly trend-chasing challenges wasn't unusual for the two of you. You were best friends, after all. On the internet, you were a dynamic, fun duo—and you were just the same in real life. That’s why this challenge shouldn’t have felt... like this. So heavy. So intimate.

You both had taken advantage of the fact that the rest of your friends were out to finally film a challenge for your channel: guessing food and drinks while blindfolded.

“Try this. Tell me what it is.” His voice sounded a bit huskier than usual as he pressed something cold against your lips.

You felt a smooth, slightly creamy texture brush against your lips. When you stuck your tongue out to take a taste, Noah bit his bottom lip so hard it almost hurt. The sight in front of him was something he’d never expected to witness, let alone document: you, sitting there, blindfolded, mouth slightly parted, waiting to receive whatever he offered. That blind trust—that absolute willingness—was making his stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the food.

“Mmm…” You licked your lips, scrunching your nose as you identified the flavor. “Ugh, is this that gross pudding Matt always buys?”

Even with half your face covered, he swore he could see the disgust in your eyes. Noah let out a short laugh—more of an exhale, really—to release the building pressure in his chest. His eyes didn't leave your mouth for a single second.

“Bingo.”

“God, Noah! That’s disgusting!” You made an exaggerated face for the camera, pretending to gag. “Just wait until it’s your turn. I’m giving you those stale cheese-flavored chips you hate so much.”

Noah couldn’t help but smile, even though you couldn't see it. He leaned over the table to set the spoon down, and as he did, his arm brushed against your knee. It was a tiny bit of contact, but he felt an electric jolt that made him clench his jaw. He glanced at the camera lens out of the corner of his eye, making sure his ‘suffering’ looked like part of the joke and not the result of the growing problem bothering him under his sweatpants.

“Hey, Not those! I’ll actually end up puking and ruin your whole video.” He said with a laugh. You made another face of disgust. His eyes scanned the table, looking for something to distract him, but they ended up right back on you. “Alright, open up again. Drink.”

“Okay.”

You heard the metallic click of a can being cracked open. Noah moved closer, holding the metal against your lips with a hand that—if anyone was paying close attention through the lens—was trembling just a little. He tilted the can with unnecessary slowness, watching the way your throat moved as you swallowed.

“Sprite,” you answered instantly.

“You sure? Don’t need another sip?” His voice went low, sounding almost annoyed that you were getting it right.

“Positive.”

Noah leaned back, letting out a heavy sigh that was meant to be one of defeat, but sounded more like a groan. “You’re good at this shit.”

Your lips curled into a proud smile, and you did a little victory dance for the camera. Noah let out a genuine chuckle when he saw you pointing in the completely wrong direction, but his gaze quickly dropped to your waist and then down to his own thighs. He had to discreetly cross his legs, internally praying that the camera’s frame was tight enough to hide his growing lack of self-control.

Why is this so difficult?

The deal was simple. You’d play in two rounds, and whoever guessed the most items won a week’s worth of free takeout paid for by the loser.

“I’m gonna kick your ass.” You sang out with a level of confidence that Noah found almost unfair. You were currently six for ten.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, doll. You could still mess up the rest.”

You heard him let out a heavy sigh, a sign that he was overthinking his next move. While you gave the camera a quick recap of your previous vlog—an afternoon spent at the guys' rehearsal followed by everyone going rock climbing—recommending your followers check it out and leave a comment, Noah already had his next ‘weapon’ ready. The faint crinkle of plastic wrap broke the silence of the room, followed by the sound of something sliding out of it.

“Can’t wait too long on this one. Open up.” He commanded again. His voice didn't sound playful and confident like it did with the first few items.

You turned your attention back to him and parted your lips.

“A little wider. It’s kind of big.”

You furrowed your brow but obeyed. With your sight gone, the rest of your senses were on high alert. The scent of chocolate flooded your nostrils almost immediately, making you smile as you caught a clue. When you felt the cold, solid texture rest against your mouth, you stuck your tongue out to test the waters. Chocolate, yeah — but what kind?

“Mmm…” A soft, almost unconscious moan escaped you as you tasted the sweetness.

Noah’s breath hitched instantly. The recording camera seemed to fade into the background against the frantic hammering of his heart. And how could he not feel this way? He’d spent the last twenty minutes torturing himself: watching your lips wrap around lollipops and your tongue caress strawberries. But this… seeing you take that vanilla ice cream bar from his hands, with such pure willingness, was his undoing.

You were friends, sure, but Noah had never hidden from the others how much he loved having you around. Maybe a little too much. He had always gravitated toward you with an intensity that bordered on possessiveness.

That was why he’d put off this video for weeks; he needed you two to be alone. Because at this exact moment, the pressure beneath his sweatpants was so obvious it was humiliating. He shifted for the tenth time on the sofa, internally cursing the black fabric that did nothing to hide every inch of his lack of self-control. This ‘innocent challenge’ had turned into a minefield, and he was one sigh away from throwing the camera —and his sanity— straight to hell. It would have been a thousand times harder with any of the other guys lurking around the house.

“It’s chocolate.”

“Almost. It has chocolate, but there’s more.”

You furrowed your brows, concentrating. “Can I bite it?”

The question sounded casual, but it hit Noah like a punch to the stomach. He had to clench his jaw to keep a stupid—or far too honest—comment from escaping his lips.

“Yeah. You can bite this one.” His voice sounded a bit more choked and gravelly than he would’ve liked. His eyes were glued to the way your teeth carefully sank into the ice cream bar.

It didn't take long for you to take that first soft bite, feeling the thin layer of chocolate snap. As you tilted your head to keep a piece from falling, Noah’s free hand moved out of pure instinct, cupping the area just under your chin to catch any drips.

The ice cream was dangerously melted from sitting out for so long. A few drops of thick, white cream slid off the bar, landing directly on his palm while others coated the corner of your mouth, trailing down toward your chin.

“Shit,” he hissed. The sound was a dense exhale, loaded with a frustration he could no longer hold back.

He should’ve done this before it started melting—not when the tension in his pants was about to hit its breaking point.

You licked your lips slowly, chewing the piece you’d caught, and without a second thought, you swiped your tongue down to clean the cream on your chin. It was a quick, wet, devastating gesture.

Oh, God.

Noah’s crotch actually ached. A sharp, physical tug that forced him to tense every single muscle in his body. He thanked the heavens that the blindfold prevented you from seeing the look of pure agony and desire that had taken over his features. He was suffering through this challenge in a way that words couldn't even describe. He glanced at the camera out of the corner of his eye, feeling a prickle of panic: there was no way you could edit this footage without noticing he was about to lose his mind.

“Mmm… It’s an ice cream bar.” You said, a satisfied smile playing on your cream-stained lips.

A husky huff, almost a growl, escaped his throat. To you—and to the camera—it might have sounded like a groan of frustration for losing that point.

“Yeah… That’s seven correct.” He managed to choke out, though his throat felt tight, like he’d swallowed sand.

“Yay!”

You clapped and started that little victory dance again, wiggling your shoulders happily, completely oblivious to the fact that the air in the room had turned so thick you could almost touch it. Your total lack of awareness was driving him insane. Noah cursed himself internally, questioning for the thousandth time why he’d agreed to film this.

It wasn’t that he wasn't enjoying it—of course he was. He’d always loved sharing food with you. But this was different. He was certain this was the most exquisite torture he’d faced in all his years of knowing you. Literally.

“Come on. Give me the next one, I’m gonna get them all right.” Your voice sounded confident, almost cocky, as you snatched the ice cream bar from his hand and kept eating it on your own.

Noah didn’t laugh this time; he stayed silent while you finished celebrating. His eyes dropped to the ice cream bar again, tracking every movement. He watched, mesmerized and aching, as your mouth closed around the melting bar, your lips forming a tight, wet seal as you sucked the cream off the wood. He could hear the faint, rhythmic sound of it in the quiet of the living room, watching the way your cheeks hollowed slightly with every pull. Your lips were a mess—glossy, wet, and coated in white cream that shimmered under the ring lights you’d set up. There was no turning back now… The sight of your tongue darting out to catch a stray drop was a slow-burn torture he wasn't sure he could survive.

A heavy silence filled the room for several seconds as he tried to cling to whatever was left of his sanity.

“Noah?”

Your voice sounded so soft and curious that he simply couldn't take it anymore. He knew what was crossing his mind was messed up—he knew it was wrong, for fuck's sake—but hearing you say his name like that made any remaining self-control vanish.

With almost agonizing slowness, he took the ice cream from your hands and set it on the coffee table, making a small porcelain plate clink. He stood up. You heard the rustle of his sweatpants against the sofa and the heavy thud of his footsteps as he moved closer to you.

This was his only shot.

“...If you guess this, you win. I don’t think I can beat an eight-point streak,” he said, his voice dropping so deep it seemed to vibrate in the air. “But I need you to be very careful. It’s… delicate. Don't go breaking it.”

You felt his hands rest on your knees, their weight pressing through the fabric of your clothes. He seemed to be issuing a warning from up close. Noah took a deep breath, glancing at the camera lens one last time with silent defiance, as if he were saying goodbye to his ‘best friend’ reputation; even if it meant ruining what would probably be the most-watched video on your channel. Regardless, you weren’t going to be able to edit this video. He wasn't going to be able to beat you—which meant he’d be the one paying for the bet—and he definitely wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight if he didn't do something about it.

Carefully, his fingers went to the drawstrings at his waist, untying them with a desperate clumsiness he tried to mask in the silence. He pushed his sweatpants and underwear down just enough, his movements slow so the rustle of the fabric wouldn't alert you too soon.

He was already hard just from watching you taste things from his hands; swollen and throbbing with a desperate need for attention, he was now fully exposed. The cool air hitting his skin made him shiver. As he looked down, seeing himself so close to your face, his jaw tightened.

“Open your mouth,” He commanded once more, struggling to control his own voice. “Just use your tongue.”

Noah held his breath, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs with violent force. In his mind, the image of your mouth—still cold and sweet from the ice cream—meeting his feverish heat was the only thing left. The video was ruined, and his friendship was hanging by a thread, but as he watched you obey and lean in slightly, he knew it was worth it. He had already won much more than a simple challenge.

One of his large, tattooed hands guided his length toward your lips, barely brushing the tip against your skin, testing your reaction. The electric contact almost made him swear out loud.

“Stick your tongue out.” He directed again, his voice barely a broken whisper. “Yeah… just like that. Good.”

He guided the tip, resting it shyly against the moisture of your tongue. For a moment, he felt like he was touching the sky with his hands. The image was filthy, raw, and fucking exhilarating: you, blindfolded, hands crossed over your thighs, surrendered to a ‘flavor’ you wouldn't be able to identify so easily.

Your tongue gave it a small lick, tracing his glans with a curiosity that was absolutely killing him. The strange, slightly salty taste made your nose scrunch under the blindfold as you tried to decipher what kind of ‘snack’ this was. Noah’s face contorted in a grimace of pain and absolute pleasure seeing your tongue get stained with his pre-cum. A hiss escaped through his teeth, and the fingers of his free hand gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, pulling it out of the way—anchoring himself to something so he wouldn't just thrust into you right then and there.

“Mmm…” A small sound of hesitation escaped your throat as you gave it another lick, a longer one this time.

Your tongue, still numb from the cold of the ice cream, immediately detected the drastic change in temperature. This wasn't frozen; on the contrary, it radiated a heat that felt almost alive. It was firm but gave just a little, with a softness that didn't resemble anything on the table. And that taste... it was subtly salty, musky. Your mind raced through snack options, but nothing fit.

“Can I try again?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Yeah… yeah, you can.” His voice was barely a thread of air, loaded with an urgency that threatened to break.

Another lick, tracing from the base of the head almost to the slit, made Noah shudder violently. He couldn’t see your eyes, but he swore he could hear the gears turning in your head as you tried to solve the puzzle. Seeing your tongue, glistening and wet, tracing the most sensitive part of his body was a vision that would haunt him forever.

“Can I take a bite?”

Noah tensed so hard his muscles actually ached. His blood ran cold for a second, and the grip of his hand around his own base faltered, almost letting his cock brush against your cheek.

“No.” He refused with a speed that sounded borderline desperate. “No teeth.”

The mere thought of you biting him was terrifying, sending a jolt of pure electricity straight up his spine.

“Just… explore more.” He whispered, pushing his glans against your lips again. “Use more of your mouth if you need to.”

“Can I suck on it?”

His eyes snapped shut, and his breath hitched in his throat.

“Y-yeah. You can suck on it.” His voice came out huskier than he expected.

You nodded, wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking gently, trying to decipher the texture. The shock of Noah’s heat clashing with the lingering cold in your mouth made him hiss—a sharp, needy sound that vanished into the silence of the room.

It was a strange texture. Soft as a peach’s skin but much firmer. In your mind, clouded by the game, you started thinking of more complex options—maybe one of those weird imported candies Jolly sometimes brought home.

“It’s… warm.” You murmured against him, not letting go, letting your hot breath fan over his glans. “Is it filled with something? It tastes salty, like… sea salt caramel? But I don’t know if I’m mixing it up with the vanilla from the ice cream.”

Noah let out a gasp that was half-hysterical laugh and half-groan of pure pain.

“Yeah… something like that,” He managed to choke out, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. “Keep going. Don’t stop to talk, or you’ll lose the point...”

Driven by the challenge, you decided to go further. You used your tongue to trace what you thought was the shape of the ‘snack’, swirling around the vein pulsing beneath the skin. To you, it was just a curious ridge; to Noah, it felt like you were sending a live wire of electricity directly to his brain.

“Noah… what the hell?” You said, your smile muffled against his flesh as you let out a silly little giggle. For a second, his eyes shot to your face, thinking you’d finally caught him. “What the fuck did you buy? Is it one of those weird big-ass lollipops from that import shop?”

Another low, airy, almost disbelieving laugh escaped his lips. He couldn't believe you still hadn't figured it out.

“No. You’re overthinking it. It’s simpler than you think,” he hissed again. “Take it inside your mouth...”

“I can’t. It’s huge.”

He let out a low growl, a visceral sound that was anything but friendly, and pushed his cock a bit further between your lips.

“Make it fit.” He commanded, and this time, there was no stuttering.

You obeyed, opening your mouth wider to try and accommodate that ‘treat’ that felt increasingly hot and hard. As you wrapped your lips around it, you felt a powerful, rhythmic pulse against the roof of your mouth. It wasn't a mechanical vibration; it was something… alive.

Your tongue traced the underside, and Noah let out a gasp so loud the camera’s mic surely caught it like a thunderclap. His knuckles turned white from gripping his own shirt so hard. He was one second away from losing what little decency he had left in front of the lens.

“Noah…” You murmured, your voice muffled because you had no room left. Your hands moved up out of instinct, searching for something to hold onto, and your fingers brushed the skin of his thighs, right where his sweatpants were bunched up.

A suspicion was growing in the back of your mind, and when you felt his heat… everything clicked. You froze. The texture wasn’t plastic. It wasn't a wrapper. It was skin. Hot, smooth, taut skin.

The silence that followed was so thick you could hear the hum of the camera’s autofocus. Your brows furrowed.

Noah bit his tongue to keep from moaning at the sight in front of him.

“Do you know what it is yet?” He asked, his voice raw. Even though he felt like he was about to shatter from desire, there was a hint of worry in his words.

Had you figured it out? Why were you taking so long to answer? What if you were furious? What if you bit him as revenge?

You pulled back slightly, trying to process the situation. Your heart was hammering against your ribs. Your fingers brushed his skin again, exploring, trying to confirm your theory. They slid up his thighs just a bit, and you quickly confirmed that what you’d just had in your mouth was definitely not food.

You swallowed hard. The logical thing to do was to rip the blindfold off, scream at him, kick him, and stop the entire recording. But there was something about the situation that made your skin crawl with anticipation, the heat of your blood rushing through your veins. All your senses were on high alert.

“I— I don’t… I don’t know,” you lied. Why did you lie? You weren’t even sure yourself.

Noah pressed his lips together, his fingers tightening over his shirt and around the base of his cock. He was on the verge of pulling back, regretting everything the second he noticed the hesitation in your voice—that tiny, almost shy tone that seemed to hide a truth that was already obvious. But then, you spoke again…

“Maybe I need a better taste to be sure.”

The playful edge was subtle, but it didn't go unnoticed. It was all Noah needed to hear for the last thread of his sanity to snap.

“Take it.” He growled, the words vibrating in the heavy air of the room. “It’s all yours.”

Mine. That thought made you shudder, sending a jolt of heat straight to your womb.

Without a single thought left for the challenge, the camera, or the absurdity of it all, you surrendered to the sensation. You leaned forward, letting your mouth—still carrying that sweet trace of ice cream—wrap around the head of his cock.

Noah grit his teeth, letting out a husky groan as he felt your cold mouth sucking with a newfound precision, much firmer than before.  The contrast was devastating. Your tongue, wet and eager, began to work his glans, tracing the circumference with a slowness that was driving him insane. You weren’t ‘tasting’ a snack anymore; you were claiming what was yours.

“Fuck—” He hissed, moaning.

He wasn't pretending anymore; he completely broke under your attention.

Feeling him unravel beneath your tongue only fueled you. You pushed your head forward, taking more of his length. Your lips sealed around him with a wet, filthy sound, your saliva helping to lubricate the way. The heat of his skin began to melt the chill in your mouth, and that thermal shock made Noah’s legs tremble.

Your head began to move in a steady, deep rhythm, but without rushing. You felt the thickness of his cock, the tension of his swollen veins pressing against your tongue, and the frantic pulse of his blood against your palate. Every time you went down, Noah’s musky, masculine scent clouded your senses behind the blindfold.

“Oh, God. Yes… yeah, keep tasting it like that.” He gasped, his voice breaking.

You didn't stop — far from it, you got more ambitious. Your mouth pushed further against him, trying to take it all, while one of your hands moved up to wrap around what wouldn't fit, following the motion of your head with rhythmic pressure.

“Jesus. Yes, yes. Just like that.” Noah moaned, his body jerking as he felt the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, trying to force its way into that warm, tight space.

He threw his head back, exposing the taut line of his tattooed neck to the camera while his lungs searched desperately for air. The sound of your sucking—wet and rhythmic—was the only thing filling the room, competing with the echo of his own groans that he no longer tried to hide. Noah was a wreck of pleasure-filled sounds, and the lens was capturing every bit of it.

The vibration of his low moans against your tongue was intoxicating. Knowing that he was now a shivering, gasping mess under your command sent a thrill of heat between your own thighs.

The hand he’d been using to steady himself finally let go of his cock, moving straight to the nape of your neck, burying his fingers in your hair to hold on. He didn't force you, he simply anchored himself to you, searching for stability in a world that was spinning out of control.

You felt his hips give small, involuntary thrusts—spasms fueled by a primitive need for depth, seeking the heat of your throat. The contrast between the softness of your lips and the firmness of his dick pulsing against your tongue was driving him insane. Noah wasn't thinking about the challenge anymore, or the friends who could walk in at any moment. All that existed was the weight of your head between his fingers and the way you devoured him with that mixture of fake innocence and hunger.

“Do you know what it is yet?” He asked in a thread of a voice, barely a broken whisper.

A muffled sound escaped your throat, and what tried to be a smile played on your lips, which were stretched full around him.

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head. The movement caused his length to rub against your inner walls with delicious friction, sending jolts of electricity straight up his spine.

A mischievous, disbelieving curve appeared at the corner of his lips. He couldn't believe it. He had his best friend—the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on—with her mouth full of him, playing dumb under the blindfold while she dismantled him with a technique that was anything but innocent.

He was dying to tell you how fucking amazing your mouth felt wrapped around him, how much he loved the way your spit was coating his dick as you took it in, and how much he loved seeing you choke on him—but he wasn't going to be the first one to crack. If you wanted to keep pretending this was still a 'challenge,' he was going to make you work for it.

“Keep sucking then.” He commanded firmly, though a hint of laughter and adoration bled into his voice. “Don’t stop until you guess.”

Inspired by his tone, you decided to go deeper. Your hands slid down his thighs and squeezed hard, using that leverage to suck even harder, wrapping around every inch he offered and your mouth could take. Noah let out a visceral growl, and his fingers in your hair tightened, losing the battle against self-control as his hips began to seek your rhythm with a much more intense force.  Almost aggressive.

He was finally going to fuck that pretty mouth he’d fantasized about hundreds of times.

His glans pushed into your throat, and a choked sound escaped you. Your nails dug into his skin, but instead of pulling back, you followed his movements, not letting him pull away either.

“Fuck, baby…” He groaned loudly, completely dismantled by the warmth and moisture enveloping him. “You’re taking it so well.”

His thrusts didn't stop, growing more erratic as his cock began to throb even harder inside you. He pulled out just enough to let you catch a breath of air, only to slam back in, stealing your breath and making your nails sink deeper into his thighs. It hurt both of you, but it was delicious.

The sight had him completely losing his mind: the blindfold hiding your eyes while your face moved to the rhythm of his desperation. He watched, mesmerized, as your lips stretched to their limit, straining to accommodate as much of him as possible. He could see the vein in his own cock throbbing against the wetness of your tongue, the thick shaft disappearing into the heat of your mouth until it simply couldn't take any more of him. The sheen of your saliva, now thick and mixed with his pre-cum, coated his entire length, glistening under the lights you’d set up for the recording as it overflowed as it overflowed, sliding down your cheeks and chin in messy, silver trails.

“Shit.” He moaned again, his voice breaking in a tone you’d never heard from him before. “I wish you could see yourself. You look fucking perfect like this, sweetheart.”

His words, thick with praise and raw desire, sent a violent shiver down your spine. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to stifle the sudden ache between your legs as your own core grew slick and heavy with heat,feeling your clit throb, swollen and painfully sensitive against the fabric of your panties. Every deep, rhythmic thrust into your mouth felt like it was echoing lower, making your toes curl against the sofa.

The rhythm became suffocating. Noah was no longer able to contain the trembling of his hand at the nape of your neck. His fingers tangled in your hair with an urgency that bordered on possessive. You felt the heat radiating from his skin, the scent of his arousal flooding everything, and the vibration of his groans echoing in your own throat every time he hit the back.

He was in heaven and hell at the same time. The pleasure was so sharp it was starting to ache, and the tension coiled in his balls was about to snap.

“Don’t stop…” He begged, and it was no longer a command, it was a prayer. “Don’t stop, I’m gonna… I’m gonna—”

Noah’s entire body tensed, his feet sinking into the rug and his hips freezing for a split second, pushing as deep as he could, seeking the back of your throat as if it were his only sanctuary.

Even without seeing him, you could feel his complete surrender in every hitched breath and the desperate way his body clung to yours. For you, it wasn't just about the challenge anymore; it was the intoxicating power of holding him at your mercy while he lost himself inside you, and the hunger to hear him finally break made your heart race with a primal sort of satisfaction.

“Can I, doll?” He pleaded once more. His voice was a wreckage of what it used to be, broken by the unbearable urgency of letting go.

You didn't answer with words, it was physically impossible. But you let out a small affirmative sound, a wet whimper that vibrated against him, and a slight nod that brushed against his skin. It was all he needed. Noah found a steady rhythm again—slower but much heavier—burying himself in your mouth with a depth that made your back arch.

The muscles of his tattooed abdomen began to ripple and tighten above your face. A guttural growl escaped from the depths of his chest as his fingers gripped your hair with desperate strength.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He repeated like a mantra, losing all control over language.

The air in the room vanished. You felt the first violent spasm of his cock about to release its orgasm against your tongue—a pulse so strong it seemed to fill every inch of your mouth. His hips sank in one last time with a force that made you squeeze your eyes shut under the blindfold, while Noah arched back, surrendering completely to the sensation of being devoured by you in front of that camera that kept recording his downfall.

Your core sought friction between your own legs once more. Feeling him so undone had made you lose your mind for a second, too.

The first spurt came with a force that caught you by surprise, hitting the back of your throat directly. It was thick, searing, and heavy with that heady, salty taste. Noah let out a choked cry, a torn sound that vibrated through his body and settled into yours.

“Oh, God!” He gasped, his fingers digging almost painfully into your scalp while his pelvis jerked against your face in uncontrollable spasms.

You couldn't see anything, but you felt the thick moisture flooding your mouth, overflowing from the corners of your lips and sliding down your chin in hot ribbons. It was too much to swallow all at once, but you pushed yourself, wrapping your tongue around him to catch every drop of his cum. The texture was smooth yet dense, a perfect contrast to the firmness of his cock, which continued to pulse violently between your lips.

More spurts came, rhythmic and powerful, filling you completely. Noah arched so hard his abs felt like stone beneath your fingers, and his breathing turned into a series of dry, desperate sobs.

Finally, the last spasm left him drained. His body collapsed forward, letting some of his weight fall onto your shoulders while he remained buried in your mouth, pulsing softly as the orgasm ebbed away. The silence that followed in the room was absolute, broken only by the sound of your own swallowing and Noah’s heavy, ragged gasps.

A part of him wanted to stay like that forever, but reality hit him hard. He straightened up clumsily, pulling back on trembling legs. His cock slipped out of your mouth with a wet, suctioning sound. Pop.

“Fuck...” You murmured, catching your breath as you sank into the back of the sofa. You didn't dare take the blindfold off yet. The world was still spinning behind the fabric, and your body was on fire from the sheer sensation of making him feel that good.

Noah slumped heavily beside you, his chest heaving violently. He was still processing that what had just happened wasn't a dream.

“Are you okay?” His voice was a whisper loaded with a sudden tenderness, almost frightened. One of his tattooed hands found your thigh, squeezing gently as if to make sure you were still there. “Are you mad?”

Your head was a wildfire of doubts. Just as you were about to deny it and tell him you were... fine, more than fine—and maybe ask him what the hell all of that was supposed to mean—the sound of keys hitting the floor outside the front door and a familiar curse broke the spell. The guys were back.

“Fuck.” He hissed, bolting off the sofa like he had a spring in his ass.

You moved into your places in a dance of coordinated panic. Noah pulled up his underwear and pants with clumsy movements, sitting as best as he could to hide the evidence of his still semi-hard erection, while you ripped off the blindfold with trembling hands. Your eyes stung at the sudden brightness of the room, and you smoothed your hair as your vision came into focus.

You looked at each other for a second that felt like an eternity, with no time to blush or process what had just happened. Noah raked his gaze over you. You were a beautiful mess, with swollen lips and the trace of him marking your skin. A part of him wanted you to stay like that, but the sound of the lock turning forced him to act.

He searched desperately for something to clean up the mess and handed you a throw pillow that was behind him.

“Use this... I’ll clean it later without anyone seeing,” He whispered urgently.

On any other occasion, you would have complained about staining the sofa’s upholstery, but time had run out. You pressed the fabric against your face, wiping away the trace of saliva and cum just as you heard the voices in the hallway. You flipped the cushion over, hiding the stain against your thighs just in time.

“I told you it was a stupid idea to take that route, man.” Jolly’s voice echoed first, shattering the bubble of the living room.

“How was I supposed to know they were fixing the road and there was a detour?!” That was Davis, complaining, followed by the sound of bags and keys being dropped on the entryway table.

Several sets of footsteps marched into the house and the door slammed shut. The atmosphere of the room shifted in a heartbeat, from the rawest intimacy back to the noisy normalcy of the house.

“Hey! You’re here!” Nick was the one who spoke then, as the others crowded around the sofa, drawn like magnets to the mess of food and drinks on the table.

“Oh, you’re recording!” Folio rushed over to the camera, shoving his face into the lens until only one eye and his nose were visible. “Hey guys, look what I got today!” He crinkled his nose to show off his new piercing. “Looks good, right? Comment if you like it.”

Jolly and Vincent joined the chaos, pushing each other to get into the frame while arguing about some nonsense from the road. Your heart was hammering so hard against your ribs that you felt like the guys could actually hear it. You weren't even able to greet them; you were too busy making sure the cushion didn't slip from your thighs.

You couldn't even complain about them ruining your video. It was already ruined long before they walked in, anyway.

“So… what exactly were you recording?” Nick asked curiously, eyeing the strange mix of products on the table.

Noah cleared his throat. The sound was dry, but his voice came out calm.

“A food challenge. We were guessing stuff and competing for a week of free dinners.” He said, resting an arm on the back of the sofa with a naturalness that left you cold. If you hadn't felt his cock in your throat two minutes ago, you would have believed him.

Nick nodded, distracted, and leaned down to steal a bag of chips. However, Matt, who had stayed leaning against the other sofa with his arms crossed, didn't take his eyes off you.

“You look like shit, Y/n,” Matt blurted out, unfiltered.

You went rigid, feeling the air escape your lungs. Noah glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and for a microsecond, you saw a trace of guilt—and something else you couldn't quite read in that moment—in his dark eyes.

“Yeah… um…” You started, forcing a groan of annoyance that came from your very soul. “We started arguing because Noah is an asshole and he dumped ice cream and soda on me because he was losing. He left me a total mess.”

Your eyes pointed to the puddle of melted ice cream on the ceramic plate as irrefutable proof. Your face was burning, but the lie flowed with an ability that scared you. Everyone’s eyes landed on the ice cream, and you swore the steam emanating from your skin was visible.

“Who won?” Davis asked, starting to head toward the kitchen, followed by Matt and Vincent.

“I did.”

“I did.”

Both of your voices came out in unison.

You shot each other a look, and for a second, the spark of real competitiveness returned to both of your faces, sweeping the panic away. Noah relaxed against the back of the sofa, stretching his long, tattooed arms with a smugness that made you want to hit him. A malicious smirk, loaded with your shared secret, curled his lips. “Clearly, I won.”

You bit your tongue to keep from snapping back with a retort that would expose you both. His taste was still present in your mouth, mocking your attempt to look dignified.

“We didn't even finish the challenge because of your bullshit… Noah doesn't know how to lose. He got pissed when he saw I’d guessed so many things. I guess it's a tie.” You shrugged, trying to sound annoyed while squeezing the cushion against your thighs. Noah let out a huff beside you, feigning indignation to fuel the performance.

Between arguments about who would take the first shower to hog the hot water and what they were going to order for dinner that night, the guys finally scattered. The living room plunged into a sudden silence, leaving only the hum of the camera and the beat of your own heart. The tension settled back in, but this time it was different. Thick, intimate, and charged with electricity.

Noah broke the silence without moving from his spot, watching you with an intensity that made your skin crawl in the best way.

“So… did you guess what it was?” He asked. He didn't smile, but that glint of dangerous mischief danced in his brown eyes, waiting for you to admit the truth now that there were no witnesses.

You frowned, torn between continuing the argument or simply running away. You chose calm, even though your hands were still shaking slightly. You played along.

“Nope. I don't have the slightest idea.” You lied blatantly, standing up with your legs still a bit weak.

You walked toward the camera to cut the recording, feeling his gaze fixed on your back as if he could read every single one of your dirty thoughts. You were going to have to hide that camera before someone else could borrow it to record their own shit and stumbled upon what you’d filmed.

I’m not going to watch it, just delete it, you lied to yourself as you switched the camera off.

He followed the sway of your hips beneath your pants as you moved, and he had to jerk his gaze away, crossing his legs to hide the bulge threatening to betray him again. The mere memory of your mouth just minutes ago was enough to undo him.

“Maybe I should try tasting it again to get more clues.” You said, looking at him over your shoulder. You were still playing.

That challenging tone and the spark of victory in your voice were the final blow. Noah let out a groan of pure defeat, collapsing heavily onto the sofa and burying his face in a cushion—fortunately, one that wasn't stained.

“You’re cheating.” His voice came out muffled and distorted against the fabric, sounding utterly frustrated.

You let out a small giggle, enjoying having some degree of power again.

“You're the one who started playing dirty, Noah.”

He clicked his tongue but couldn't retort because you were absolutely right, he had broken all the rules first. He rolled over, lying on his back. His fingers drummed nervously against his stomach, making a superhuman effort not to visualize the image of your tongue tracing him again. He couldn't afford another erection with the guys in the house.

“You know... technically, I still haven't had my turn.” He spoke, staring at the ceiling but searching for your reaction out of the corner of his eye—he looked stupidly adorable doing that, thinking you wouldn't notice. He also tried on that mischievous tone that always characterized him whenever he had a wicked plan in mind.

You walked over to the table and started gathering the empty wrappers and cans, trying to ignore that your hands were still shaking a bit. You looked at him with arched brows, regaining your usual sarcastic tone.

“The challenge is already ruined, Noah. Stop talking shit and help me clean this up.”

He bit his lower lip, suppressing a victorious smile, and nodded. He stood up to help you, though his movements still had that heavy sluggishness of someone who just had a fucking mind-blowing orgasm.

“We can try again later, or another day. You take control next time.” He shrugged, playing it cool.

But, because he could be such an asshole sometimes, he couldn't help letting out what was crossing his mind,

“Maybe I can taste what you’re hiding under those cute kitten panties you wear sometimes.”

Your stomach did a violent flip, and you felt the heat rush up your neck to your ears. Without thinking, you hurled a bag of chips you had in your hand at him. Noah caught it mid-air, letting out a clear, mischievous giggle.

“Shut up, you idiot!” You hissed in a desperate whisper, glancing toward the kitchen. “Have you been going through my underwear?” You accused him, indignant.

“Of course not!” He held his hands up in a peace sign, though there wasn't an ounce of innocence in him, and he knew it. “Well, maybe when it’s my turn to hang the laundry, I’ve given your panties a look or two... But you can't blame me, sweetheart. They’re pretty hard to ignore.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling like you were going to explode from embarrassment at any second. You grabbed an empty soda can and started walking toward the kitchen to get away from his smug smile.

“Screw you, Noah.”

Noah let out a soft, low chuckle—one that sounded entirely too pleased with himself—before shouting at your back, following you with his gaze.

“Come on, just think about it! We need a second round for the tiebreaker, babe!”