#noah request

Red hot heat radiated from the hand print and crudely cut NS on Will's cheek. The welt covered the supple flesh almost entirely. Noah delicately placed his hand over it and even more gently soothed the mark, further smearing trickles of blood and earning a shaky gasp plus a shiver from Will. It throbbed beneath his palm.

"I like how this looks." Noah's voice came out steady and calm despite feral lust burning through him. "You should get it tattooed."

He pressed his thumb against his initials until Will squirmed, then dug his nail into them. Will choked on a whimper in a futile attempt to move; the spreader bar kept his legs apart, spread wide so Noah could see everything he wanted—cock heavy and leaking, twitching with every deep breath, his hole wet, glistening with spit, puckering, pleading to be filled or played with again—and his arms in place, wrists bound to the middle so Noah could watch him fruitless grasp at nothing.

Will cried out when Noah's hand made contact with his ass again, harshly and painfully. The sting had almost dulled to numbness, but blossomed intensely once more.

"Did that hurt?" Noah cooed.

"Y-yeah." Will choked.

Gently, Noah ran his hand over the hand print. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Do you need a second?"

"No." Will sighed.

Noah reached for Will's knife and flicked the blade open.

"Good," he said, trailing the tip of the knife up the length of his cock, "because I'm not done marking you yet."

He positioned the the blade on Will's unblemished cheek and sliced his initials once more until his flesh—only now, Noah paired it with a plus sign and WR. Crimson bloomed, swelled until it trickled down, leaving bloody trails. Noah licked the blade clean before tossing it aside and licking up the blood he drew. Will whined.

Carved with bone and stained with his own blood, Noah kneeled before the stone structure, its likeness stood behind him. Fingers warm with the heat of hellfire slithered from the base of his skull to mask his eyes, tilting his head back to bare his throat.

“A fine offering for worship,” Will praised, silky smooth and saccharine. “Such attention to detail. Is this how you view me?”

Noah suppressed the shudder that threatened to make him a fool—but his composure faltered as His fingers migrated to his throat, deftly caressing the sensitive flesh. He sighed quietly, breathless and needy.

“Y-yes.”

Tentatively, he allowed his eyes to open, heart hammering against his ribs as Will gazed down at him with a similar wonder and devotion that he gazed up at Him with.

“Others would kill to be my favorite, you know.” He stared intensely at Noah, hoping to invoke just a sliver of fear. “But none are as loyal and devote… deserving as you.”

Will delicately pushed Noah’s hair out of his reverent eyes. For a long moment, He just stared, admiring his unearthly beauty and pondering how mortals could make offspring so perfect. It was terribly unbecoming of Him to harbor such emotions for a human, but how could He not?

“You should be rewarded.”

He stepped around Noah, keeping one hand on his head. Slowly, Will sank to His knees in front of him. Noah attempted to protest, but He silenced him with fingers pressed to his lips.

Noah was scared to touch Him, terrified he’d blemish His holy skin, taint beyond the flesh down to the bone. But Will had no qualms about touching him—delicate hands blazing fire in his blood, lips caressing and blossoming flowers in the wake of beautifully scorched nerves. Noah, an altar for Him, uniquely divine and sacred in a way he couldn’t fathom.

Will left no inch of Noah unblessed; from the top of his head to the sole of his feet saw some form Heaven. The reverential, angelic amber glow of His eyes felt almost blasphemous, wasted on him, but a fool Noah would be to not indulge in such honor.

Noah watched you flutter about the living room with fondness, fluffy wings and halo bouncing in time with your steps. Each time you bent over to light a candle, he craned neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of what little you told him you were wearing underneath. If you noticed him staring, you didn't say anything.

With the final candle lit, you flicked off the lights and turned toward Noah, a bright yet mischievous smile on your lips. You sauntered over, taking your rightful place in his lap. He smiled up at you, settling his hands on your waist.

You looped your arms over his shoulders and leaned in, mirroring his grin.

"Did you enjoy your birthday slash Halloween party, daddy?"

Noah slid his hands to your hips, silently urging you higher in his lap. "Hm, yes I did, baby. Thank you."

He hummed against your lips when you kissed him, a soft, teasing thing that promised more. You trailed your fingers down to the clerical collar adorning his black button up and tugged at it gently.

"Would Father like to unwrap his present here or somewhere more appropriate?" You whispered.

Noah slipped his hands under your dress, hoping to find a waistband to tug, but found none. He hummed thoughtfully.

Nick threw his head back in laughter. From a distance, Noah couldn’t hear it, but he knew the sound well enough—a broken record inside his head. A crowded room and his gaze was drawn to him. All Noah could do was observe, yearn for the moments he was the reason Nick laughed so hard, or fell apart in hands he made a mess of.

He remained respectful of the boundaries Nick laid; slip ups were now far and few between, practically nonexistent, but it didn’t stop Noah from wanting. He supposed it was deserved.

As if he could feel his burning stare, Nick glanced his direction, smile faltering as their eyes locked. Noah’s chest tightened and twisted something awful. He should have looked away. Obviously Nick was in the middle of a conversation and it was rude of him to draw his attention—but he couldn’t. Those fawn like eyes kept him there, and Nick, stuck in a tar pit trap.

He’s unsure who broke first, but at some point, Noah found himself searching for a new wall to attach to. Nick was no longer on his line of sight and he no longer knew where he was.

“You’re not subtle, you know.”

Noah jumped at the voice. His heart settled briefly once he realized who it was, then spiked all over again because of who it was.

Nick leaned against the wall beside him, drink in hand, staring straight ahead at the crowd.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Noah deflected, joining him in staring at the sea of people.

He scoffed. “Please. If you stared at me any longer, I was gonna burst into flames.”

“I was just—“

“Staring at me like you wanted to tear me apart.”

“That’s—“ Noah glanced at him, finding a stone expression still fixed anywhere but him. “I was just making sure you were okay.”

Nick looked at him then, albeit brief, and not long enough for Noah to see anything below the surface.

“I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need you to worry about me, Noah.” He took a sip from his drink. “Especially while I’m on a date.”

“Hm, can’t be that serious if you brought them to a work event.”

“I’m plenty serious.” Nick deadpanned. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just ruin everything.”

What did that mean?

Noah didn’t get a chance to ask before Nick was gone, lost among the bodies. Every ounce of him wanted to chase, demand an explanation, plead for… he didn’t know, but he would beg. Instead, Noah stood shell shocked, unable to will his feet to move. Desperate eyes scanned the crowd. None of the brunettes were the right shade or height.

When Noah enters the house, he’s greeted by a dull drone of a singular piano note being played over and over and over and over again. He could feel it in his bones, the heaviness seeping from the living room, chest twisting with each press of the key. He called for Nick, but met with no response. Peaking inside the living space, he saw Nicholas standing at the piano, shoulders hunched, head hung low and his hair a cascading veil around him. He was still wearing one of Jolly’s robes from this morning.

“Nick?” Noah called again, this time softer, so as not to startle him. Again, he was ignored.

It seemed disingenuous to ask if he was okay because it was clear as day he wasn’t.

“It’s okay to let me go.” He said flatly.

“What?”

Nicholas stopped. Slowly, his head lifted and turned ever so, just enough for Noah to see the absolute heartache on his face and swollen, bloodshot eyes. Noah felt his heart shatter in two. He took a step towards him, only for Nick to take one back.

“You need to let me go.”

Crimson from an open cut across Nicholas' knuckles dripped onto the wooden floor. The color was… off, even for him. It was far darker than it should be, that much Noah knew.

"What happened to your hand, Nick?" He asked cautiously.

The house was quiet and stagnate enough that Noah swore he could hear the rattling of Nicholas' bones, as well as see it. Nicholas followed his gaze, lifting his bloodied hand and staring at it intently. Confusion furrowed his brow as he looked to Noah.

"I'm bleeding. Why am I bleeding?" His voice was laced with mild panic. "Noah, why am I bleeding?"

Noah took another step toward him; this time Nicholas stayed put, but he still flinched, a small, barely there twitch, but enough for him to notice.

"Nick," Noah held out a hand, "what happened? Are you okay?"

The blank stare told him as much as Nicholas had—nothing.

"I-I don't know…" Tears shimmered along his lashes. "I… cleaned up after you left this morning, then I… wanted to play Jolly a song so I came in here."

Noah looked to the piano where Jolly's urn resided, only it was missing.

"Then I realized I never showed him the renovations so I grabbed him and showing him around and… and I told him about you and then I felt th-th-this guilt and Jolly appeared and—" Nicholas inhaled a shaky breath. "Everything came rushing back and I was back there, cradling his dead body, apologizing over and over and over again."

Tears fell freely from somber seafoam, the whites of his eyes almost the same shade of red as the silk robe he wore. Noah stood, too stunned to speak.

"I kept yelling for you." His voice cracked. "And you weren't here, and I knew you weren't, I knew that. I watched you leave. I-I made you breakfast. Y-you kissed me before you left. You were here, but you weren't."

"Nick…" Noah didn't know what to say.

“It's not your fault, I know." Nicholas was quick to reassure him. "It just sent me down a spiral of what ifs. What if you get sick of me? What if you decide I’m too much to handle after all? What if the same thing happens? What if it's me? What if you—“

Nicholas couldn’t get the words out. A painful lump formed in his throat and a sob tore through him, sending him crumpling to the rug.

Noah was quick to rush to his side and engulf him. Nicholas thrashed, desperately trying to push him further away. Noah only held him closer until he eventually curled into him, his despondent sobs shaking them both. Tears stung his own eyes and trickled down his cheeks as he blinked them away. Nicholas’ fingers twisted in his shirt, clutching to the fabric like a lifeline and staining it with blood. He screamed, raw and visceral, shredding his throat, the sound only partially muffled against Noah’s chest.

He felt utterly and completely helpless. Nicholas had broken down on him before—more times than he could count and more than Nicholas would ever admit, but nothing quite like this. He wanted to do more than just hold him; he wanted to make the hurt go away, reach inside his chest and pull at the deeply rooted grief in his heart until it gave—but he couldn’t.

When his sobs finally quieted to sniffling, Noah gently pried his face from his chest. He smoothed a hand over his hair, pressing his lips into a sad yet sympathetic line as despondent seafoam flicked between black brown. Like fragile porcelain, Noah cradled Nicholas' face between his hands.

"I am not going anywhere.” Noah brushed his thumb across his cheek, wiping away lingering tears. “I will be here for as long as you want, Nick.”

"You don't know that." Nicholas choked out.

"You're right, but you also don't know this will end in disaster either." Noah fixed him with a firm yet gentle stare. "I knew the risks when you told me everything, and I still said yes. I am happy to pick up pieces of you, and I cherish every one of them helping you put them back together."

“That’s not fair to you.”

Noah pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Nicholas blinked, eyes still shimmering with tears and underlying uncertainty.

"You make it so difficult not to fall in love with you."

Noah chuckled. "Are you telling me you love me?"

"I.. might be."

The confession caught him off guard, but he managed to mask his surprise, at least he hoped so. On one hand, it was nice to hear Nicholas felt the same, but on the other, Noah worried if he just said it without realizing and was trying to save face—and he desperately, selfishly hoped he did.

"When was the last time you fed?" Noah asked.

Nicholas furrowed his brows.

"I ask because the blood coming from your hand looks old."

He looked down at the hand still twisted in Noah's shirt. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but when he untangled his fingers, the cut split, prompting more crimson to the surface.

"Let's get this cleaned up, then I'll give you a drink, okay?" Noah helped Nicholas to his feet.

"I don't have it in me right now, Noah."

"Nick—"

"No, I mean… I don't want a drink from you. I'd rather have a blood bag."

Noah nodded. "Sure. Just one?"

Nicholas let Noah bandage his hand without complaint, his gazing burning through him the entire time. Noah tried his best to ignore it, but it was heavy. He couldn't make out the emotion plaguing them. At the very least, it didn't seem as sorrowful or shaken. Maybe it was contemplative.

When he finished, Noah locked eyes with him. Nicholas' expression softened as Noah kissed the bandage.

"For extra healing." He said with a faint smile.

"Thank you." Nicholas whispered with a small smile of his own.

Gently, Noah hooked a finger under his chin.

"You're sure you don't want a drink from me?" Noah inquired, eyes flicking between his.

Nicholas nodded. "I'm too tired."

Noah's smile turned sympathetic; he softly pecked his lips.

"Blood bag and a nap then."

He helped Nicholas off the counter and guided him out of the bathroom, hand loosely in hand. Noah steered them in the direction of Nicholas' room, but he stopped just shy of the door. Before he could ask, Nicholas sheepishly asked if he could sleep in his room instead. Noah thought it silly to ask—this was Nicholas' house and his room was merely the guest room—but he agreed; of course he did.

Noah turned them in the opposite direction, past the bathroom, past the study to the end of the hall and opened the door. His bed was still neatly made, the curtains drawn just enough to let in a little light. He let go of Nicholas' hand to close them while he climbed into the bed.

The last thing Noah wanted to do was leave him alone, but he needed to grab blood and clean up the small puddles by the piano. Plus, he needed to find Jolly, more than he needed to clean blood.

With a chaste kiss to the cheek, Noah promised he'd be quick. He shut the door behind him then debated where to start first. His eyes wandered to the closed study door. It seemed good a place as any.

Quietly, he opened the door and stepped inside. The space was tidy, not a pen or book out of place. Everything was where it should be; no clutter on the desk, and no sign of Jolly. Noah frowned then exited.

The door to Nicholas' bedroom was slightly ajar. Noah grimaced at the loud squeak it gave as he slipped inside. The space was less tidy than the office. His bed was unmade, dresser drawers half opened with clothes threatening to spill over the edges. The closet doors were wide open and various robes that belonged to Jolly laid in heaps on the ground, along with Jolly.

His urn rested on its side, thankfully unopened. However, Noah's sigh of relief was short lived.

The mirror was broken.

“Oh… Nick…” Noah whispered, feeling his heart shatter.

An impact mark the size of a fist spider webbed out, the crack just below where his heart would be—and exactly where he imagined Nicholas'. Shards littered the floor and clung to the frame. His reflection was distorted, limbs disconnected from his body and warped.

Noah crouched down and set Jolly upright, giving the urn a pressed, thin smile.

"I wish I knew what to say." Noah said. "I hope he didn't throw you at the mirror too."

He looked over the urn; save for a few scratches, it was mostly unscathed. Noah stood, Jolly in hand and turned his attention back to the mirror.

"Nick's told me a lot about you, separately and together. He still wears the engagement necklace." He glanced down at the urn. "He asked me when we started dating if it bothered me, and I told him no."

Noah paused as if he were waiting for a reply. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, but he paid it no mind.

"He's… He still struggles. He still misses and loves you so much. I'm sure you know that though."

Silence.

"I wish I could make it easier for him, you know? I don't want to erase what you had together, that's the last thing I want. I just… I don't want him to feel guilty for moving on, or trying to. Nick deserves to be happy, to love, and to be loved."

Noah chuckled lightly.

"Actually, he more or less told me he loved me today. I didn't say it back. I should have. It just caught me by surprise, and if I'm honest, I'm not sure if he knows he said it."

He frowned.

"Nick had a… big breakdown and there was… a lot of disconnect and emotion flying around. I hope he meant it, because I love him too. So much. More than I know how to say or show. I guess I should start by saying it back first, huh?"

Noah looked at the urn, at Jolly. He tried to visualize him, but he'd only ever seen pictures and paintings. He didn't know how tall he was, how thick his accent was. He wondered if they'd be friends in a different time, if he and Nicholas would still meet. Noah's certain they wouldn't be together if Jolly were still alive.

"I'll take good care of him, Jolly. I promise. I know I'll never come close to you, but I just want to give Nicholas the love we both know he deserves."

Noah took much longer the anticipated taking it upon himself to tidy Nick's room before heading back down stairs. He returned Jolly to his rightful place in the piano, that same chilling feeling creeping over him as he walked to the kitchen. He swore he saw someone in his periphery, but when he turned to look, no one was there.

When he went back to the guest room, Nicholas was dozing—not quite asleep, but in between. He perked up, greeting Noah with a sleepy smile that warmed his chest. Noah crawled in beside him while he devoured the blood bag.

Nicholas wastes no time wrapping his limbs entirely around Noah, leeching his body heat all for himself. Silence filled the minuscule space between them as unconsciousness tugged at Noah's eyes.

"You didn't say it back." Nicholas mumbled.

"Hm?"

He squeezed Noah tighter.

"Earlier. I told you I love you, and you didn't say it back."

Oh.

There was a beat of silence. Noah untangled Nicholas' limbs from his and turned to face him. Exhaustion plagued his features—sunken eyes lacking their sparkle, skin dull and paler than usual, sadness and grief etched so deeply in his frown, in every little wrinkle and line. Noah grasped Nicholas' injured hand, placing a feather light kiss to the palm before nestling, cradling it against his chest.

"I wasn't sure if you knew what you said, or if you… meant it like that." The confession came as a whisper, quieter and more vulnerable than Noah intended.

"Why wouldn't I mean it?"

Under different circumstances, Noah would find his pout adorable. He almost felt guilty for doubting his sincerity.

"Well—"

His words were cut off by Nicholas pressing a clumsy kiss to his lips. Noah followed his lead, letting him take what he wanted, be greedy as humanly possible, until they were both breathless and Noah was positive he could feel Nicholas' heart beating again.

Noah went easily when Nicholas tugged him, perching himself in his lap, caging his hips between his knees—but when his hands slipped under his shirt, he stopped.

"Noah…" he whined. Noah chuckled softly, amused

"I know, Nick, I know." He brushed their noses together. "You don't need to prove it. I believe you."

"But—"

Noah silenced him with a kiss.

"I love you too."

"You do?"

"I do."

Tag list: @jestersnotebook @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @sitkowski @ferduttini @lacy1986 @ladyveronikawrites @kavalyera

Jolly’s watched him wither and bloom time and time again, growing stronger, bigger. A show stopping focal point in an otherwise crowded garden. Countless times he bore witness to others trying to care for him with no knowledge. He watched helplessly as they selfishly cut Noah’s blooms to decorate their spaces, trim his branches and leaves in an attempt to unnaturally shape him, and poison him with the wrong fertilizers.

For too long Jolly sat idle, afraid of doing further damage, but when the last gardener nearly killed Noah, he had to intervene. Signs were placed to deter others and Jolly did what he could to ensure Noah survived until the season was done. Throughout his dormancy, Jolly waited, anxious and fearful that he didn’t do enough. He checked everyday, but it was impossible to tell if his care was successful.

As the seasons changed and the weather warmed, so did Noah. Under Jolly’s watchful eye and delicately meticulous care, he blossomed—not the big, vibrant blooms of past years, but a bloom nonetheless. And that’s all Jolly could ever ask for. He knew it would take time to return to his former glory, and Jolly possessed the patience of a saint.

Jolly’s heart swelled with each passing season. Noah required less and less rigorous supervision and began flourishing all on his own, once more reclaiming his show stopping nature. Not once did Jolly ever ask for thanks. He simply did what he did to help a beloved friend in need.

But, it was difficult for Jolly to completely stop fussing over him. He still plucked and pruned what he thought necessary despite Noah’s protesting. He pulled every little weed at his feet in fear of them crowding him out. When it rained, he worried about the amount of water. During the hottest summer days, Jolly would stand in the scorching sun to provide Noah shade.

His once nurturing care turned suffocating. Noah recognized it was doing more harm than good, but no matter what he said or did, it didn’t click for Jolly. He didn’t notice his leggy growth or the diminished size of his flowers, or that there were less blooms than last year. Noah feared he would ultimately love him to death.

When all the petals dramatically dropped, Jolly panicked. He’d been so careful, how could this be happening? The once gentle hands that delicately caressed now caused harm. How could this happen? How could he of all people hurt Noah? Tears flowed like waterfalls, flooding the soil with more than it could absorb.

Hands that were once too weak to push off the ground softly cradled his jaw and eyes that were once devoid of life stared back at him, now illuminated and bright.

“You have to stop, Jolly.” Noah whispered quietly. “I am fine.”

Jolly blinked, staring blankly and confused.

“You’re smothering me.”

Jolly stumbled through apologies, through explanations for being overbearing. Noah just simply nodded with an understanding smile, stroking the tops of his cheeks to halt the rivers still trickling from his panicked eyes. He knew it came from a place of deep love, knew how devastated he was every time someone stomped their way through him. He understood—but Noah needed Jolly to understand he was causing the same type of harm.

It took Noah uprooting himself and finding a space in a new garden for Jolly to snap out of his head—but the clarity was short lived. Seeing him flourish by himself filled him with pride and jealousy, almost resentment, especially when Noah decided to keep him at arms length. He felt slighted, like all his work meant nothing to him—all his love meaningless.

Noah no longer held the shape Jolly gave him, choosing instead to grow wild and unkempt. He still remained the same, still bloomed the same colors, grew the same leaves. Noah was still Noah, but not to Jolly. His Noah looked different; his Noah didn’t push him away.

He grit his teeth and forced a smile, for Noah and the band's sake.

Jolly watched Noah wither and bloom time and time again, growing stronger, bigger. A show stopping focal point in an otherwise crowded garden that he once cared so intimately for. And Jolly supposed he still does, just from a distance, and perhaps it’s a version that he doesn’t want to admit no longer exists.

Jolly Masterlist

Noah Masterlist

Lyric Prompt Masterlist 2

Tags: @jestersnotebook @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @sitkowski @ferduttini @lacy1986

"Is this what you wanted?" Noah spoke coldly while tugging on the slip chain looped around Will's neck. The metal dug into his skin, not painfully, not yet anyway.

If the dazed gaze reflecting back at him was an indication, Noah would think so. But Will wasn't meant to be enjoying this. All day he'd been a menace, a brat even. A needy, pathetic, whiny and pitiful little kitten—and Noah was hellbent on correcting that behavior.

Will squirmed beneath him, cock hard and begging to freed. A small wet formed on the crotch of his sweats. With his free hand, Noah firmly pressed his hand against Will's erection, cutting off his moan with a hard yank of his chain. The sound of his choked and surprised gasp filled Noah with a sick pleasure. He leaned down, just enough to breathe hot air across his lips.

"Do you think I should get a choke collar for you?" Noah cocked his head to the side. "How long do you think you could hold your breath?"

Will tried to arch into him, but Noah sat all his weight in his lap. He pulled the chain tighter, back and up until it caught and Will winced. A small, smug smile tugged at Noah's lips.

"Oh you want this bad, don't you?"

Will blinked with a subtle, barely there nod. Noah leaned in more, brushing their lips together, sinister smirk still plastered. He mocked every breathless sound Will struggled to make.