#noelfisher

It's been a week since you got really sick.

Just a few days earlier, you wouldn’t have believed that a simple cold could knock someone out this badly. For seven straight days, you barely left the bed, but thankfully, you were never without care.

Your body felt heavy, like it belonged to someone else. Every attempt to sit up required a moment to gather your strength and a deep breath. Even walking a few steps to the kitchen was enough to exhaust you, sending you right back under the covers, slipping into a half-sleep almost instantly.

Luckily, everything was taken care of.

There was always a bottle of water on the nightstand, a thermometer, a box of tissues, and a small plate with something light to eat, even though you rarely had an appetite. Even the window was cracked open just enough to let in fresh air without letting the cold seep through. When you fell asleep, Noel quietly adjusted the blanket. When you woke up, he was already there.

You’d probably drunk more tea in that one week than in your entire life combined. Raspberry. Linden. With honey. With ginger.

The moment Noel found out how bad your condition really was, he went to the pharmacy that very evening and came back with an entire bag full of medicine.

He returned out of breath and freezing, his cheeks red from the cold. He dumped everything onto the kitchen table and spent a long while reading the leaflets with such focus it looked like he was studying for an exam. Then he lined everything up neatly and started watching the clock more carefully than you ever would have.

So yes — you were taken care of. Completely.

You didn’t have to ask for anything. Even when you tried to say you’d manage on your own, he only shook his head and adjusted the pillow behind your back.

Noel is the sweetest boy in the world.

Sometimes he sat beside the bed with his laptop, working, and you’d fall asleep to the soft tapping of his keyboard. Other times he scrolled through his phone, glancing over to check if you were sleeping. He’s gentle, loving, and takes care of you as if you were his most precious treasure. More than once, you woke up to find him half-asleep himself, slumped against the headboard, unwilling to leave you alone. Feeling safe.

Because that’s how you felt with him.

Even being sick felt lighter when he was sitting by your side.

But you still hadn’t forgotten about that evening.

The memory came back to you in short flashes whenever you closed your eyes. When you were lying half-conscious with fever, when his voice sounded closer than usual, when you drifted in and out of sleep. You kept thinking about how badly you’d wanted him then.

Whenever he wasn’t there, your thoughts returned to how much you wanted him with you — or even inside you.

Thankfully, you were back on your feet now, capable of functioning again. And you had no intention of letting this go until Noel kept the promise he’d made that evening. When you were barely conscious and aching, yet still aroused. When he’d promised to let you come once you recovered, that he’d take care of you.

You sat in front of your laptop, finishing up some work-related document. After all, now that you felt better, responsibilities had returned. You were still a little weak, but the fever, the aches, the runny nose, all of that was gone. Hard not to be, after that amount of medication.

Your fingers moved nimbly across the keyboard, typing out one sentence after another. Just moments ago, everything had been flowing smoothly. The words came easily, answers forming in your mind almost automatically. But with every passing minute, you made more mistakes. Letters swapped places, wrong words filled empty spaces, and the cursor blinked irritably. You sighed softly and corrected another error, already knowing it was pointless.

You couldn’t focus. Your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Your gaze drifted to the small digital clock on the shelf beside the bed. Red numbers glowed clearly in the dim light, counting down the minutes with merciless precision. Noel was supposed to be home any minute now. Your heart beat a little faster at the thought. You were getting impatient.

Because you had something prepared. 

Something just for him.

You set the laptop down on the bed beside your legs, closing it with a quiet click. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight as you rose smoothly to your feet. On tiptoe, you moved to the wardrobe, opening the doors slowly so the hinges wouldn’t make a sound. Inside, at hip height, was the drawer where you kept your lingerie and something you planned to wear tonight.

A garter.

White, made of delicate tulle, faintly sheer. A small, pink bow adorned the center. Subtle, yet eye-catching. You pulled the soft fabric from the drawer and studied it in silence for a moment, running your fingers over its delicate texture, feeling how lightly it slid beneath your touch.

“Noel’s going to love this,” you murmured under your breath, a smile creeping onto your lips.

You sqedueez the garter in your hand and rummaged through the drawer for your sexiest lingerie set. Something that would match the garter not just in color, but in mood. Your fingers brushed over lace, satin, thin straps of fabric, until you finally found what you were looking for.

Sheer, minimal panties and a lace bra in the same shade of white. Delicate, yet bold. Perfect.

You glanced over your shoulder at the clock. Time had passed faster than you expected. 

It was time. 

You slipped out of your loose T-shirt and shorts, letting them fall to the floor. You stood there in just your underwear as the cool air brushed against your skin. You reached for the lace bra, fastening it carefully and adjusting the straps on your shoulders. Then you swapped your comfortable panties for the string thong that hugged your hips just right.

You looked at yourself in the mirror built into the wardrobe door. A faint blush warmed your cheeks. In the dim light, you looked different. The lace subtly highlighted your curves, the pale color contrasting against your skin. You smiled to yourself, a pleasant tension settling low in your stomach.

Now, the garter.

You lifted your leg and slid the delicate fabric over your foot, slowly pulling it upward, inch by inch, until it rested high on your thigh. You adjusted it carefully, smoothing the tulle and positioning the bow perfectly at the front.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard the creak of the door and the familiar click of the metal lock.

Noel was home.

Your heart skipped.

“Baby, I’m back!” Noel’s voice called from the entryway.

A smile stayed fixed on your face as arousal spread low in your belly. Your fingers instinctively smoothed the lace on your hip, as if to reassure yourself that everything looked exactly as planned.

You heard Noel taking off his shoes. Placing his keys on the dresser. Every sound seemed louder now, sharper. Your senses were heightened. You breathed a little faster, trying to calm the fluttering in your stomach. You glanced at the mirror one last time, adjusted your hair so it fell freely over your shoulders, and gently bit your lower lip as you studied your reflection.

You looked innocent… And at the same time, not at all.

Noel’s footsteps grew closer to the bedroom. Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he’d hear it. You took a step back, positioning yourself so the light from the bedside lamp softly highlighted your silhouette. You wanted that first look to steal his breath away.

The handle moved quietly. You held your breath. The door opened slowly, and Noel stood in the doorway. At first, he looked at you like he always did — with that warm, familiar smile. But then his gaze drifted lower. And froze.

Something appeared in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a week. You knew instantly you’d succeeded. That you’d sparked exactly the reaction you’d been hoping for. You knew he was aroused because the way his tongue slowly traced his lower lip, the way his eyes wandered over your nearly bare body, meant only one thing when it came to him.

“Do you remember how badly I wanted to feel you inside me a week ago?” you said, taking slow steps toward him. “I still want it. Noel, I want you.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent.

Then suddenly he stepped toward you and crashed his mouth against yours in a passionate kiss.

There was no hesitation, not even for a second. His hands immediately found your hips, firm and certain. He pulled you so forcefully your body collided with his chest, a soft gasp tearing from your lips.

His mouth was warm.

He brushed over your lower lip first, slow and deliberate. Then, without warning, he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid between your lips, bold and dominant, finding yours in one fluid motion. You shuddered, feeling your knees go weak.

You breathed heavily through your nose. There was no room for air between your mouths. Your fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer, as if that were somehow possible. You tasted him — faintly minty. With every movement of his tongue, your saliva mingled more and more, the kiss turning wetter, deeper and greedier.

His hands began to roam.

One slid down from your hip to your ass, gripping it firmly until your body arched toward him on its own. The other moved up your back, slipping beneath the thin lace of your bra, his fingers brushing the clasp as if testing how easily it would come undone.

You let out a soft moan straight into his mouth when he bit your lip, just enough for a flash of pain to blend with pleasure. You answered threading your fingers into his hair and tugging lightly, teasingly.

The kiss was messy, impatient, filled with a week’s worth of tension finally breaking free. Your mouths collided, parted for only a second, then crashed together again even harder.

Noel’s hand slid down to your thigh. His fingers caught on the tulle of the garter. He traced it slowly, feeling the fabric beneath his fingertips, then moved higher, leaving a trail of heat along your skin. He pulled away from your mouth for just a moment — barely a second — to look at you up close. His pupils were blown wide, his breathing uneven.

“You’re going to be the death of me…” he murmured against your lips.

But he didn’t give you time to respond. He kissed you again. This time slower, deeper. His tongue moved against yours, exploring every motion, as if he wanted to memorize the taste. Your body burned beneath his touch, and every second of that kiss only fed the fire pooling low in your belly.

Then you started to back away, still gripping his shirt tightly so he followed without hesitation. You didn’t break the kiss, it was too intense, too necessary. Your fingers clenched in his clothes, guiding him exactly where you wanted him.

Step by step. Until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

The mattress dipped slightly beneath the press of your thighs as you sat down, still pulling him close. The kiss finally broke, leaving you both breathing heavily. For a brief moment, he looked down at you, his gaze burning. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips slightly swollen from kissing. Lace hugged your body delicately, and the white garter on your thigh drew his eyes like a magnet.

Without a word, he slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

The movement was unhurried, thick with tension. His hands slid along your thighs until one of them wrapped around your leg just below the knee. Gently but firmly, he lifted it a little higher, spreading your legs wider. 

You shivered.

He leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving your face. Then his lips brushed your thigh. You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin as his mouth traveled upward, leaving behind a trail of slow, damp kisses. His hands tightened on your leg, holding you steady as his lips moved closer and closer to the garter.

Your fingers instinctively threaded into his hair.

He stopped right at the delicate tulle, looking up at you through his lashes with pure, unhidden desire. Then his teeth caught the fabric softly.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

Slowly, without any rush, he began to slide the garter down using only his mouth. The material glided over your skin inch by inch, and you felt every movement, every subtle brush of his lips and teeth. Your body trembled. The garter slipped lower, until it finally slid completely off your thigh. Noel leaned back just enough to hold the delicate fabric between his teeth for a split second before letting it fall to the floor.

His hands moved higher up your legs. And his gaze was darker than you’d ever seen it.

“Oh my God,” you breathed softly under the weight of his look.

Suddenly, he stood so abruptly it sent a small shiver of surprise through you. His eyes were dark. With one hand, he caught your jaw, lifting your chin so you couldn’t look away from him.

“Look at me,” he whispered low.

His other hand slid slowly along your arms, gentle but deliberate, until it reached behind your back. His fingers began to undo your bra — slowly, centimeter by centimeter — testing how your body reacted. The fabric finally gave, loosening and falling away just enough as he stared at your bare breasts with a hunger that made your heart race.

His hands moved over your body, exploring, mapping every inch beneath his fingertips. Your body responded to every touch, shuddering, arching toward him. Your lips parting in a soft, muffled moan.

Then he dropped back to his knees, his hands traveling lower. One swift, practiced motion, and your thong was in his hands, slipped silently down your hips. Your body shifted forward slightly as bare skin met air, and he let out a quiet, satisfied breath.

Another smooth, fluid movement and he lifted your legs onto his shoulders. Your thighs rested against him, your hips perfectly aligned with his face. His eyes met yours, his mouth curling into a smile full of desire, poised for what came next. 

“Noel,” you whimpered his name before he’d even done anything.

That sound flipped some kind of switch in him.

His hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you closer, sliding your body until your ass rested right at the edge of the bed. You immediately felt his hot breath against your skin. So warm it almost burned. He never took his eyes off you, and you couldn’t look away from him. You stared at each other in that unbearably intimate moment.

Then you noticed his lips slowly part. His tongue slipped out, the tip catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He leaned in even closer, his eyes shining with dark, untamed hunger. He focused on you and then, slowly, almost theatrically, dragged his tongue along your center.

Teasing. Certain.

Your eyes rolled back as heat flooded your entire body, every nerve ending craving his touch. You tilted your head back, your back arching, your chest pushing forward instinctively. Your hips moved toward him without thinking, as if your body itself was trying to pull him closer.

Your hand tangled in his hair, gripping tightly as if you needed to keep him there, draw him in, feel all of him. He responded instinctively, pressing his tongue harder, directly against your clit, working deeper into every inch of your sensitive skin while his other hand slid along your thighs, steadying you. His breathing grew heavier, warm breaths brushing against you, and every movement made your body react on its own, completely beyond your control. Everything inside you twisted and pulsed, and a soft moan slipped from your lips as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Mmm… you taste divine,” he murmured, and the vibration of his voice rippled straight through your aching clit.

He couldn’t stop. His tongue moved up and down in a way that was both subtle and relentless, making every second almost unbearable. Your fingers clenched tighter in his hair, your hips lifting instinctively toward him, chasing contact, warmth, pleasure. You wanted to ride his tongue. You felt his mouth and tongue in every motion, each touch sending electricity racing through your body. Your breathing quickened, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst with desire. Every moan, every broken breath was a response to him.

“Oh Christ… I’m going to come,” you whimpered.

His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue moved in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, stronger and stronger. Noel circled your clit with his tongue before sealing his mouth around it, sucking hard.

And you were gone.

Your eyes rolled back again. Your back arched, breasts pushing forward, your head falling back. Your fingers twisted tightly in his hair as he pulled you even closer, until you could feel the heat of his face pressed against you. Soft, obscene sounds filled the room. Noel sucking, licking, practically tasting you, your wet, soft cunt.

Every movement of his was precise and merciless, and you couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from your mouth. Your legs, draped over his shoulders, trembled under the weight of the tension building inside you. You felt it coming, just seconds away from the explosion, from completely losing yourself to the pleasure he was giving you.

Your body finally surrendered, hips lifting and dropping in time with his mouth. That familiar pressure started building low in your belly. You moaned louder and louder until the wave hit you all at once, sudden and overwhelming.

“Noel—” you cried.

Your body shook as the orgasm tore through you like lightning — sharp, electric. You felt yourself trembling, your cunt pulsing uncontrollably. Your breathing was fast and uneven, gasping for air like you might run out at any second.

Then you collapsed back against the soft mattress.

The orgasm had completely drained you.

With a heavy breath, you let out a quiet laugh, eyes still half-closed, lingering in the faint, lingering pulses echoing through your body.

“Fuck… that was incredible,” you murmured softly toward Noel.

You lifted yourself just slightly, barely propping your body up on your hands only to see Noel undoing his pants. He was standing right in front of you now, his hands moving with practiced ease at the zipper. Your heart started racing, a pleasant buzz spreading through your belly as you heard the familiar metallic sound of the zipper sliding down.

With every second, his movements grew more deliberate. He unfastened his pants, the fabric loosening immediately around his hips, revealing the first glimpse of his boxers. Your eyes followed every motion, tension coiling tighter inside you. Noel pushed his pants down gently, not all the way, just enough for the material to fall loosely and expose more of him.

Moments later, his boxers slid down completely. Your breath hitched.

His cock stood hard in front of you. Long, perfectly thick, with a velvety head glistening with a bead of pre-cum at the tip. Your breathing sped up automatically, your fingers clutching the bedsheets like you needed something to anchor yourself, because the sight was too intense, too electric.

“You’re leaking…” you muttered, unable to stop the slight tremble in your voice.

“That’s because of you and your fucking wet pussy, baby,” he replied, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

You squeezed your thighs together without thinking. You could feel the slickness already gathered there spreading even more, a sharp reminder of how badly his presence and his touch ignited your body. Your hips lifted instinctively, searching for contact, wanting him closer.

Every small movement Noel made was dangerously charged now, each one sending your heart racing. Every breath, every low word from his mouth made your entire body throb, ready to give in to pleasure. Wetness clung to your thighs, the tension in your lower belly building with every passing second, preparing you for the moment you couldn’t wait for anymore.

Then Noel stepped closer. Slowly, almost lazily, taking a single unhurried step forward. He wrapped his hand around his cock, fingers tightening deliberately. A quiet moan lodged in your throat.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly.

“Yes”

“Beg”

“Please, Noel. Give it to me,” you whined, dragging the words out as heat bloomed across your cheeks.

“Give you what?”

“You.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else. His hands immediately found your hips, pulling you toward him. You felt his hard cock brush against your wet cunt, every graze drawing a soft moan from your lips without permission.

Without waiting, he slid one hand up your thigh, slow and intentional, teasing as he went until his fingers slipped between your legs. He found your slickness instantly, moving slowly, exploring, pushing you right to the edge. He played with your clit, rubbing and teasing it with deliberate precision.

You trembled in his hold, your hips responding helplessly, lifting slightly to meet his fingers, moving in time with his touch.

His lips found your neck, biting down gently, leaving a bloom of red in their wake, while his other hand wandered upward to cup your breasts. His fingers closed around them firmly, shaping and squeezing, thumbs brushing over your stiff, sensitive nipples, tormenting them without mercy. Every squeeze, every movement of his fingers sent a burst of pleasure through you, blending with your breath and broken moans.

His eyes tracked every reaction as if he wanted to witness every shiver, every moment of weakness. Suddenly he pulled away, his fingers leaving your swollen clit.

The separation hurt immediately, an aching absence that made you crave him harder. But you didn’t have to wait long.

You felt a gentle friction between your wet folds.

The head of his cock.

He lined himself up and dragged the tip through your slickness, spreading his pre-cum over you, mixing your fluids together. Every movement was slow, deliberate. Your hips moved on their own, lifting toward him, pressing, fitting yourself to his body. Your hands clenched on his shoulders, nails biting lightly into fabric as his mouth returned to your lips and neck, teeth grazing, leaving warm marks behind. His breathing mingled with yours..

And then, finally, after long moments of slow, maddening friction, you felt the thick head of his cock begin to push inside you. Just the tip at first, stretching you gently, parting your wet heat, pulling a soft moan from your lips. Your body trembled at the sensation, hips lifting instinctively, urging him on.

He didn’t hesitate.

He slid deeper, inch by inch, until you felt completely full. Your breathing turned ragged, your moans growing louder as your hips began to rock on their own, matching his movements.

His hands roamed your thighs and hips, gripping, guiding, holding you so you felt every inch of him inside you. Your body responded instinctively, clenching, pulsing around him, shaking and whimpering under the weight of pleasure spilling through you.

“Oh, Noel,” you moaned softly.

His first thrusts were slow and deep, sending waves of pleasure rippling from your lower belly through your entire body. His breath mixed with yours, your sounds blending into one intense rhythm. Your hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, begging for more.

Each thrust grew faster. Stronger.

Your hips answered, lifting to meet him, your slickness coating his cock, mixing with his pre-cum into a slippery, obscene heat. You felt the fire building with every second, knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

Noel didn’t slow.

He drove you exactly where he wanted you. Every roll of his hips, every pause between moans, every stretched second of tension pulling you closer to the edge. Your world narrowed down to him, to your bodies locked together in this wild, desperate collision of need.

His movements suddenly grew sharper, more forceful. His hips snapped into you harder, deeper, each thrust pressing you into the mattress like he wanted to claim you completely. Your body shook around him, hips pulsing helplessly in time with his thrusts, slickness spilling even more freely.

“Oh Noel,” you moaned, tension climbing through every inch of you.

Your hips lifting higher, chasing the perfect angle, desperate to match his rhythm exactly. His hands tightened on your hips, holding you firmly, guiding your rhythm. Every thrust drove deeper into you, making your whole body tremble. Your spine arching, your chest pushing forward, heat flooding your face. You clenched around him, refusing to let him pull back, because you needed him inside you. You could feel the rippling muscles deep within you flutter with every push of his hips.

“I’m close,” he suddenly gasped.

“So am I,” you moaned.

You felt his body vibrating, pulsing, tension building inside him. His hips paused for a split second with each movement before slamming back into you with brutal precision, dragging louder, rougher, increasingly shameless sounds from your throat.

And then you felt it — his tension snapping.

His body went rigid. Heat spilled deep inside you, flooding you in a wave of warmth, mixing with your slickness, pulsing and filling you completely.

You didn’t need another second.

Another orgasm ripped through you, stronger than the first. Your body shook violently, harder, deeper, your walls clenching tightly around him uneven, desperate. His sounds mixed with yours, filling the room. You felt his hips shudder a moment longer, each aftershock pressing deep into you, like he was pouring every last bit of desire, every ounce of himself into you.

Finally, he stilled and leaned down over you, bracing his hands on either side of your body. He was so close your foreheads touched lightly. You breathed the same air, breaths still uneven, heavy with emotion.

Very slowly, Noel pulled out.

Your body shuddered involuntarily, the oversensitivity after release. You let out a soft sigh, and he immediately leaned down, pressing a brief, soothing kiss to your forehead.

With one smooth movement, he lay down beside you. You did too. His chest rose and fell steadily, the sound of air slipping past his parted lips oddly calming. You turned your head toward him, a smile forming on its own.

Noel.

Your sweet Noel.

He lay beside you, relaxed, hair slightly tousled, that familiar calm on his face. He was beautiful. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

As if he felt your gaze, he turned his head toward you. Your eyes met, and he smiled warmly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, almost in a whisper.

You blushed instantly. You’d heard those words from him so many times, yet every single time they hit just as hard as if he were saying them for the first time. As if he truly saw something special in you.

Noel reached for the blanket lying nearby. He sat up slightly and, with great care, covered your naked body, adjusting the fabric to make sure you were warm and comfortable. His movements were slow, gentle, full of care.

“You shouldn’t be walking around naked like that,” he murmured softly. “You were just sick, baby.”

You smiled and shifted closer, curling into his side beneath the blanket. You rested your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

“I love you, Noel,” you said quietly.

He wrapped an arm around you immediately, pulling you closer as if that were the most natural place in the world.

“And I love you,” he replied without hesitation.

You tucked your face into his shoulder, closing your eyes. It was warm. Safe. Peaceful.