If you’re here for gossip, rumours, or stalker-ish behaviour; this isn’t the place, and I kindly ask that you leave. As a reminder; the boys are real people that exist separately from my fictional lens. I do not know them, and everything I write is created with muses in mind, not mirrors; so nothing I write should be taken as fact. Also, if RPF isn’t your vibe, that’s totally okay. Please just scroll away and don’t read. Thankies <3

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warnings: smut, sex with feelings, slight talk about voyeurism, explicit language, nickname: princess, penetration, unprotected pnv, creampie, riding

note: Thank you all so so much for your patience, and thank you all for the lovely reblogs / comments. I am so flattered you liked this piece. It came from a very personal place, and in a very strange way was healing to write. I sure hope you enjoy this final part <3

You had been in Noah’s bedroom a hundred times before, though it never felt like this.

The door clicked shut behind you, his breath at your back as you looked around each of the walls. The taste of his lips was still tingling on your mouth, arms and legs vibrating with nerves.

The last time you had been here was a distant memory; a time you couldn’t even place. Though as you searched the corners, reminiscing of the times you and Noah were curled beneath his duvet to watch a movie, or remembering how he used to throw his dirty socks at your face from the floor whenever you touched his things- your mind spiralled around memories of him laughing there.

Yet this visit was different now.

In my bed. Where I can take my time with you.

Heat climbed onto your face as Noah’s fingers grazed your arms, the touch tingling down to your hands when he held you back against his chest.

He watched as you took in all the pieces of him that had changed while you were gone. The bed was bigger now, pushed against the opposite wall with dark sheets wrinkled beneath the glow of deep purple LEDs. What used to be a shelf of Bakugans now held Pop figures and vinyls, with clothes thrown, surprisingly, into the hamper instead of across the floor.

As Noah’s hands travelled down your arms, his nails traced lightly over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His lips met the curve of your shoulder, and you stared past the half-open curtains toward your own bedroom light across the strip of grass between your houses, softened by the leaves of the oak tree.

That stretch of yard had felt so far all those years ago, even when in reality he had just been a few steps away.

Noah noticed the way your throat tightened, and his mouth paused against your shoulder, thumbs resting gently against your skin. “What?” He whispered.

You shook your head, eyes remaining fixed on the curtains of your bedroom across the grass.

“Nothing.”

His breath moved hot against your neck as he drew you even closer, pushing his hips into the fabric of your lower back. “You’re such a liar.”

The laugh that slipped from you broke too quickly, unable to sound amused, and Noah lifted his head. He watched the side of your face quietly, and it almost seemed impossible that this was the same boy from next door who had spent his whole life trying to make you laugh.

Before he could ask again, you turned in his hands, pressing your chest to his.

“What?” he asked softer this time.

Your fingers found the bare skin at his waist, settling there as the truth rose close in your mouth.

“I used to look over here. When my room was dark, and yours wasn’t, I always hoped to see you on the other side,” you admitted, turning your head back toward the window, then back to him.

His throat moved, trying to hide the smug grin that fought its way onto his face. “Yeah? Did you?”

An embarrassed nod passed quickly. “It’s weird, and I don’t even know why I’m admitting to being such a creep I-”

His hand lifted to your jaw, thumb pressing to your mouth so he could cut you off. “Trees, I left it on because I wanted you to look.”

The catch of your breath made him drag his thumb across your bottom lip, watching the way they parted beneath the touch.

“And I knew you did…did you like it?” He murmured, leaning in until his breath warmed your cheek. “You were never as sneaky as you thought.”

You swallowed, feigning a scoff. “You're such a pest.”

“Yeah?” Noah leaned forward now, mouth brushing yours in almost a kiss. “That didn’t answer my question.”

He closed the space, lips against your own as he slid his hand around your back, cupping your ass with a free hand as the other held your jaw. By the time he pulled back, the breath that left you was faltering, his smile curling at the edge.

Then, he grazed your ear with the top of his mouth. “Did you like thinking about catching me naked?”

Your fingers squeezed his waist in protest, but you never denied it. He only laughed quietly, pleased by your response as he began walking you backwards toward his bed.

As his knees hit the edge, he sat slowly, hands on your hips as he pulled you with him until you stood between his knees. The purple hue softened the edges of his face, catching his cheekbones and chest every time he sucked in a breath.

Looking up at you then, he smiled, and a heat ran through you so quickly your fingers tightened at his shoulders, palms warming.

Noah let his hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, thumbs brushing the skin above your waistband. That earned a quiet huff that caught when he leaned forward to press his mouth along the soft place above your hip, just where your shirt lifted.

The kiss he left once then again, made your hand fly to his hair before you could help it, legs shaking.

For a few minutes there were no more words. The hum of the fan above his bed was quiet, covered by the tug of his mouth against your skin as he trailed up your torso, pulling your shirt up slowly with each inch he revealed. His palms moved up each side patiently, memorizing every curve and dip of your body and stomach as your fingers tightened in his hair, unsure of where else to go.

He did not rush as his breath fanned warm over your skin, the sensation curling low as every limb lit from the inside out until your shirt was at the base of your collarbone, and Noah looked up at you one last time, waiting.

The way his mouth was parted slightly, hair mussed from your hands almost made you moan, and he caught the working of your throat, tossing you a grin.

So you lifted your arms, his gaze flicking to your face first to confirm one more time, and when you nodded, his hands slid higher. He pulled the shirt slowly over your head, so slowly that the fabric brushed against your face longingly on the way that it left another trail of goosebumps behind.

Noah had gone quiet, looking at you with shallow breaths as his eyes traced your chest and stomach with such wonder that another flush coated your cheeks. You hadn’t worn a bra, and part of you wondered if maybe that was part of the problem; but as you reached to cover yourself, his fingers held your wrists in place.

“No,” he whispered.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the centre of your chest, then another just beneath. Each was slower than the first, before he began pressing his tongue flat along each curve. It was as though every good word and praise he could think of etched through each kiss, threaded into an intricate pattern of his lips that worked along your breasts.

Where I can take my time with you.

Fingers slipped back into his hair, a gentle sound leaving your body with his worship. His hands tightened around your wrist at the sound, and when he paused a moment, forehead pressed against your sternum, he guided you forward onto his lap.

Your knees sank into the mattress on either side of his body, and his hands instantly pressed into your lower back, leading you down against him. You kissed again, hungrier yet stripped of all the teasing.

Noah leaned back beneath you until his shoulders hit the bed, taking you with him.

The movement shifted your hips against his, and the friction stole the breath from both of you. A whimper broke into his mouth before you could stop it, and Noah echoed, helpless beneath you.

His hands tightened at your back as your hips moved again slowly, his head falling back against the bed, throat working around another groan that made heat rush between your thighs.

You bent over him, mouth finding his jaw then the line of his inked neck. His skin was warm beneath your lips, faintly salty from the bike ride back; though as you kissed the hollow beneath his ear, Noah’s fingers dug into your waist.

The sound of your name leaving him quietly made your eyes close, mouth pressing harder against his neck as you rolled your hips again. Noah sucked in a sharp breath, his hands guiding the rocking of your hips.

It was hard to ignore the growing thickness between you, and after one more thrust he suddenly moved. He rolled you beneath him quickly, your stomach dropping at the press of his forearm on the mattress beside your head until he kissed you again.

Noah was less patient this time, allowing himself to press his hips down into yours as your hands cupped the back of his neck. He pulled away just long enough to drag his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere beside the bed.

As you went quiet with an aching stare at the designs across his torsos, Noah’s smile returned slowly, smug; though the rise and fall of his chest was anything but controlled.

“What?” he whispered, leaning closer until his lips hovered. “Not what you were hoping to see through the window?”

Your cheeks warmed, but this time you did not look away. “You keep talking about me looking through your window,” you mumbled, fingers dragging over the ink on his chest. “What about all the times you might’ve looked back?”

Noah’s smile paused. He had looked far more times than he could count. But feigning ignorance was important here. “What times?”

You almost laughed at how badly he tried to sound innocent. “There was one night the summer before I left. Your light was off, but I thought maybe you were still awake.”

His breathing changed beneath your hands, and you swallowed, eyes flicking briefly toward the window before returning to him. “I changed in front of mine.”

Noah’s eyes moved across your face, fighting a smile even as they dropped to your mouth. Your fingers paused at his waistband, tugging gently at the fabric.

“I hoped you were looking. I knew you had before, but I really wanted you to that time.”

“You hoped I was looking?” he asked, voice rough.

Your face burned, but you held his stare. “Yes.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. His mouth brushed yours again. “You’re lucky I didn’t. I would’ve climbed over.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t have let you in.”

Noah’s smile disappeared completely, and he kissed you again, teeth tugging hungrily at your bottom lip. His hands ran across every inch of exposed skin with your bare chest pressed to his.

His hips rutted upward again with another sound, grip shifting to your thighs. The brunette's hold was hard enough to pull you down against him one more time, and although he had said he wanted to take his time, patience was wearing thin.

It was evident in the way his hands shook when they found the button of your shorts and the drag of his mouth down to your collarbone. The soft rasp of fabric made your breath hitch as he worked you open beneath trembling fingers, and your hips lifted before he could ask.

The press of his forehead to your shoulder as he worked your shorts down over your hips and down each of your legs made you ache for his touch. Noah became less and less careful as he stared at you now, exposed in a pretty thong.

He cursed between his teeth, especially when his hips pressed upward again, hard beneath his shorts and separated from you by almost nothing at all. His inked palms dragged upward over your hip towards the thin strap, tugging gently in question as his eyes sought approval. At your nod, his eyes almost rolled back with want.

With his mouth on yours, his finger slipped beneath the strap and pulled it down, kissing you through the shake of his hands as he tried to remain patient.

The last bit of lace slid lower, and your own fingers found his waistband, earning a hitch in his throat as you pulled at his shorts. He helped eagerly, kicking them away, and that was when you finally looked down, both of you bare and exposed and no longer hiding anything away.

His October eyes raked over every inch, like he could not believe he was allowed to see you like this; and it was the look on his face that made you ache worse than his hands had, because beneath all the heat and the wrecked breathing, there was still that softness.

Noah came back over you slowly, his forearm bracing beside your head while his other hand slid under your thigh. The first press of his arousal against yours stole every thought from your head, and his eyes shut hard, forehead dropping to yours.

As he pressed your back into the mattress, you lifted your hips, reaching slowly between your thighs. His breath broke at the sight, shoulders shuddering as you grabbed the line of him, adjusting until the edge was right there.

He watched every second. The purple light softened the tension in his face, catching part of his mouth as his breathing turned shallow. Then his eyes found yours again, certain.

You held his gaze as he moved. The feeling of him sinking closer made your eyes flutter shut, fingers digging heavily into his back. Noah’s body trembled as his restraint began to fray with every inch of him that sank further into your body.

It was impossible for you not to cry out his name, brows furrowed with need until he kissed you deeper, swallowing each moan. The world held the heat of him between your legs, his breath rough against your mouth as he groaned, almost in disbelief, that he finally knew what it was like to taste your body with his.

“I’ve wanted you for so fucking long,” Noah said, pulling back just enough before pressing his hips deeper. “Longer than I ever knew how to say.”

The confession broke against your mouth, rough and unsteady, and then he kissed you again because he could not stand to leave the words there alone.

Every thrust was a summer you had wasted, pressed through every window you had looked through in yearning. Your name left him again, broken, and as his rhythm grew faster with each thrust, the years continued to give way. It was an unbearably overwhelming feeling; to be wanted by someone who had never really stopped wanting.

He had known at sixteen that you were no longer just the girl next door.

It was that tell in the way his chest went tight whenever you fell asleep on his couch with your cheek pressed into one of his hoodies. In the way he had begun keeping cinnamon gum in his pocket because you always asked for a piece, even though he pretended it annoyed him. In the way his eyes found your window before bed without meaning to, searching for your curtains to see whether you had gone to bed or not; because he had always slept just a little bit easier knowing that you, too, were asleep.

He had known it at seventeen when your knee brushed his at the firepit, and he forgot for one terrible second how to speak.

At eighteen, he had known it with panic. You were leaving, and he was staying, and every touch between you begun to feel like time was running out. That summer, he could barely stand being in the same room as you, because being close reminded him that he still had to let you go.

Summer lost its colour then, too, because August had ended, and you went with it; and in the quiet of your window with all that was left behind, Noah understood the thing he had been too young, and dumb, and late to say:

He was in love with you.

Yet now at twenty-five, with your hands in his hair, mouth open on his, body holding him close as every thrust between your legs pulled another year of longing from his chest, he was lucky enough to know it like this, too.

He was in love with you.

Noah’s rhythm faltered once at his inner confession, allowing his body to accept the years of want. His mouth dragged from yours with a broken breath, hands sliding beneath your hips as he pulled you higher against him, deeper until the shift made your back arch from the mattress.

A sharp sound left your throat that was once again caught in his mouth, his tongue lapping every noise that you willingly gave each time he begged you for more.

Your fingers scraped down his back, and Noah groaned, wrecked. You could feel him everywhere, his arms trembling as he held himself above you, giving every inch you both deserved. Noah pressed every year he had spent wanting you back into your body until you could no longer tell where the ache of him ended and the pleasure surfaced, meeting your eyes once more.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth. “Listen to you.”

Heat rushed through your neck, but before your eyes could drift down to where your bodies met, his hand slid to your jaw.

“No, don’t hide from me,” he whispered, holding you there.

Noah’s pace slowed, but every thrust stayed deep. Your eyes fought to close beneath the pleasure, but you obeyed, watching him through the haze as he moved above you. His mouth parted at the sight.

With each roll through your spine, his eyes darkened. His hand stayed firm at your jaw, thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he drove into you; and while he claimed you with such greed, he still looked at you with a longing softness, as you were the most precious thing he had ever been allowed to touch.

His hand shifted beneath your ass, keeping you open for him, until you slid your own hand between your bodies. His pace stalled the moment he watched your fingers trace light circles over your core. A pained sound left him, Noah’s shoulders locking above you as he greedily watched your fingers move against yourself, revelling in the way your lashes fluttered, mouth open beneath the feeling of him still buried deep inside.

“Jesus Christ,” His breathing was wrecked, watching as you squirmed beneath him. “You are so fucking pretty.”

Noah’s praise burned through you, and you slowed your fingers. His hips shifted once more, and you pressed a hand against his chest for a brief moment before pushing hard enough to beckon him backward.

He blinked down at you before understanding moved through his face, and when you pushed him firmer, he let you guide him back. He landed against the mattress with his chest rising hard. Hands found your hips immediately, gripping to put all the want that went silent in his throat.

You looked down at him, breath shaking. “Still think I’m pretty?”

Noah’s grip tightened hard, his eyes dragging over you. “That’s not even a fucking question. Look at you.”

With his head falling back into the pillows, he followed the roll of your hips with his hands, helping you move without taking over. The tips of his fingers dug into your skin, pulling with need as you pressed your palms to his chest for leverage.

For a while he let you have it. He let you ride his cock with need and famish, every slow movement tearing his name from your throat while he raked his hands over every inch of your body. Noah started at your legs, sliding from your knees to your thighs to the dip between your hips and pelvis, squeezing the skin there in worship. Then his hands travelled higher, up either side of your waist and over the curve of your ribs, until they reached your chest and held each breast through the next roll of your hips.

You moved harder, and Noah’s hips jerked up to meet you on instinct. His hands slid back down to your hips, watching where your body connected with his until he could no longer bear the pace you set.

Jaw flexing a moment, he shifted, planting each foot against the mattress beneath you.

“Noah-”

His hands tightened before you could finish, pulling you down hard against his chest as he thrust up with force. You groaned against his neck, arms locking around him as his own wrapped across your back, holding you flush to him while he pounded into you from below.

You barely had time to register anything beyond the pleasure, the heat of his body beneath yours with the broken scream of his name leaving your throat.

“Better?” he breathed beneath you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders in response, a quick ‘mhm’ vibrating against him as you hid your face in his neck.

“That’s what I thought.” The words were smug, but his hands were shaking, a laboured breath pressed against your cheek.

One hand stayed firm at your back while the other slipped between your bodies. His thumb pressed against your arousal, the sound ruining any control he had remaining.

Noah groaned when he felt you tighten around him, thrusting and pressing and drawing you closer and closer to the edge, until you could no longer hold on.

“Fuck, princess,” he praised at your ear. “Give it to me. Let me taste you.”

In an instant, his mouth found yours, the kiss devouring the string of broken moans you gave him. Noah’s lips parted against yours as your body finally gave in, pleasure rushing through you all at once.

He kissed you through every shudder of your hips as you came, swallowing your sounds because he had been waiting years to know them this way. His thumb kept moving in slow, tight circles, earning every last beat from your body while his hips drove up into you with a warmth that began to break.

The moment he lost himself, his arms tightened, rhythm faltering beneath you; and then he pleaded into your mouth, devastated, ruined.

“Noah,” you muttered against his lips, and he came beneath you with your name breaking apart on his tongue, holding you so tight in claim.

When the last shudder finally passed through him as he came, he did not loosen the hold across your back. He pulled you closer, breath shaking against your mouth as his body settled beneath yours. The room rang; ears, pulse, and air, the fan turning slowly above the bed.

Noah’s breath echoed through you as you hummed with contentment, hand trailing up and down your spine slowly. As you began to peel your chest from his, he brushed his lips against the corner of your own, unwilling to pull away just yet.

“Hey,” he whispered, giving you a moment for your eyes to flutter open.

When you met his stare, never had you been looked at with such ache, every pass of his eyes over your own sharing a thousand words of reverence through surrender. Noah had never looked at you with such helpless worship; so you sucked in a breath, fighting tears that welled in your eyes.

He caught them immediately, all the softness in his expression turning to concern as he sat up, still straddling you on his waist. You wrapped your legs around him, holding your naked bodies in place as each of his hands cupped the sides of your face.

His thumb moved beneath your eyes before anything could fall. “Hey,” he whispered even softer. “No, no. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, but the motion only made another tear slip free. His face crumpled a little.

Letting out a helpless laugh, your fingers curled around his wrists as he held your face. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Noah did not look convinced as his eyes searched your own. “You’re crying. Did I do something wrong? Was it that bad?” He began, sucking in a nervous breath as his brows pulled together and he began to ramble. “Look, I-I’m sorry I don’t-”

Kissing him again, you laughed against his lips, “Relax. You did nothing wrong.”

He followed your pace, moving with you as you kissed him again and again and again, each one softer than the last until you pulled his hands down from your face.

“I’ve just waited years for you to look at me the way you are now.”

“Trees,” he whispered, and you squeezed his wrists gently. He then swallowed, gaze dropping briefly to where your hands held him before sliding back to your face.

“I’ve been looking at you like this forever.”

Your fingers loosened around his wrists, watching him as he turned his hands beneath yours until he could lace your fingers together, pressing them against his chest.

His heart was racing beneath his inked skin, wild with yearning that was yours; until he shared a vulnerable smile.

“I love you.”

The break in your breath felt like a reassuring realization that maybe you were not so crazy after all. Noah’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes still holding yours.

“I loved you then,” he smiled with years of everything unsaid. “And I love you now.”

You tried to blink back the tears again as your chest ached, but his confession touched every younger version of you that stood in your room, daydreaming of the boy next door. You ran your hands up his back, holding the nape of his neck as your fingers threaded through his brunette strands; remembering every goodbye you had swallowed because neither of you had known how to ask the other to stay.

His smile trembled as he watched you, until you sang the words back he had only dreamed of hearing himself one day.

“I love you.”

His entire face changed around the promise, muscles relaxing at the sound of the truth crawling off your lips; so you said it again.

“I love you.”

Noah laughed, taking your body with his as he fell to his side, a squeal flying from your mouth as he kissed you over and over, smiling eagerly into each one.

Laughing against his mouth, his name sounded weak.

“I can’t help it,” He murmured, kissing your lips, then your nose and cheeks and chin until he pressed a final one back toward the corner of your mouth. “You love me.”

You did; and somehow that appeared to be the thing Noah had been waiting his whole life to be smug about.

His grin stayed there for another second, boyish yet pleased. As the laughter faded between you, his hands softened against your body, mouth finding your forehead. His breath was quiet against your skin, and you hummed softly as your eyes drifted toward the window once more.

“It still looks far from here,” you said.

Noah followed your gaze to the narrow strip of yard, casting between the oak leaves. His thumb brushed over your arm.

“Not anymore,” he said, smiling.

You believed him, because summer had not come back the way it used to. Though it may no longer have been scraped knees and sticky hands, playground chalk dusting your ankles, or water from the garden hose cooling your tongue beneath a sky that lasted forever…it was shaggy brown hair and a laugh that made the world feel young.

It was purple lights and wrinkled sheets with the taste of Noah’s mouth. It was cinnamon gum and roadtrips with the windows down, calloused hands running across your thighs with the wind rushing through your hair.

So while yes, the older you got, summer still came and went- this time, with Noah’s heartbeat pressed into your skin, it no longer left without you.

This time, summer belonged to you again.

And, it had found a little bit of its colour too.

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