vivald

warnings: (three parts - smut in part 3) - explicit language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of ghosts / the paranormal, some smoochin'

note: Hi, lovelies. I am so sorry it took me so long to get this out. When I wrote part one, I had a complete outline and plan for what I wanted, but I had such a hard time writing it in a way that felt right. I literally rewrote this part four different times and was getting so tired of it because I just hated every draft- but as I’ve forced myself to finally finish the last few days I realized it’s because I felt like I had to still keep it in two parts. However, I didn’t want to rush this fic. It’s a very personal one, and only two parts didn’t do this justice, so there will now be a part three so there aren’t 11,000 words on one part lol. I am sorry that the awaited smut will indeed be coming in the next part and that you’ll need to wait a smidge longer. With that said, part three is drafted and just needs to be edited, so should be out by the end of the week and not almost two months later… :,)

By the time seven came, the ring from Noah’s Slurpee cup had dried into a faint circle on your nightstand. You heard the ringing of a bike bell coming from the driveway, and outside, the Crescent glowed warm with the evening light.

Noah stood at the edge of your driveway with one foot propped on the pedal of his bike, his head tilted down at his phone until he felt you looking, then lifting his eyes to your window.

His smile grew the moment you turned around, pretending you hadn’t been staring, and you grabbed your phone before you could think about it any further. By the time you reached the driveway he had placed his device back into his pocket and was leaning over his handlebars, acting like he had been waiting ages.

“It’s about time,” he sighed, rolling his shoulder back in faux exhaustion. “I was starting to think you were making me look stupid out here on purpose.”

“You did that to yourself when you rang your bike bell like a twelve-year-old.” You tossed him a look as you opened the garage with the keypad on the side panel.

Noah glanced down at the bell, then flicked it once with his thumb.

You stared at him. “Are you done?”

“No.” He grinned, dinging it again. You groaned but held a smile, missing the way his own turned softer at the sight of yours.

Your bike was where you had left it years ago, leaning against a pile of cardboard boxes and an old plastic basketball hoop that was covered in dirt and scratches. The tires were a little dusty, the rubber handles peeling. Noah watched as you tugged it free, the whir of the bike chain faint as you walked it beside you.

“When’s the last time you rode it?”

You glanced down at the bike, then back at him. “The bike, or a dude?”

Noah’s eyebrows lifted as he snickered smugly, watching you swing your leg over the seat. “I obviously meant the bike, but it’s interesting you needed that clarification princess.”

“You asked a vague question,” you replied, rolling your bike with the tips of your toes to the keypad, closing the garage. You then turned to him with a frown.

“I asked about the bike,” he said, eyes bright. “You’re the one who made it dirty.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again when nothing decent came out. Noah’s smile only got bigger.

“Oh, don’t look so pleased,” you said, pushing off before your face could get any warmer.

His laugh followed as he rolled after you, leaving the rumble of the garage door behind.

For a little while, neither of you said much. Noah rode beside you at first, and every now and then, his front tire drifted slightly ahead of yours before he eased back without being asked. You always used to complain when he “left you behind”, even when he never really went far enough to lose you. He would never admit out loud that he always liked making you chase him, relishing in the small huff of annoyance you gave when you caught up, just to know he was the one who had actually secretly slowed so you felt like you won.

Though it was never much of a secret when you knew all along. So when he slowed, you thought about how some habits, even through the essence of time, did not know how to die.

At the end of the Crescent, where the sidewalk cracked around the roots of an old poplar, the road bent toward the newer houses.

Noah glanced over his shoulder once, then turned his handlebars toward a narrow opening between two back fences where the grass had been worn flat from years of kids cutting through. The path was easy to miss if you did not know it was there, hidden behind a leaning cedar and a rusted chain link gate.

You slowed, pressing your brakes. “We’re still taking this way?”

Noah stood on his pedals, already disappearing into the break between the fences. “You always did.”

As the houses disappeared behind you and the trees grew thicker, the forest held the smell of summer. The earth was sweet, heavy, from the leaves baking softly in the sun. Pine and sap, along with the waft of warm bark, swelled through a soft hymn of bugs dancing through blades of tall grass that brushed your tires. As you inhaled deeply through your nose, relishing in the smell of nostalgia, you couldn’t help but watch the way Noah rode ahead.

He was taller now, needing to duck beneath branches with half a second to spare; and although the first one missed him, the second waiting beyond it did not.

The branch hit Noah square in the face, causing him to bark out a sound, his bike jolting over the uneven trail. He looked back at you once more before his front tire bumped over a root.

“You good?” you called, already laughing.

“I’m fine. That thing barely got me,” he shouted, running the back of his inked hand over his forehead.

“I dunno, looks like you lost to a tree,” you yelled back, swatting a few mosquitoes out of your face.

You stuck out your hand, letting the bushes skitter across your fingertips, the various shades of green fluttering over the skin as you passed. The trail ahead widened near the end of the bend, and Noah’s old brakes squeaked sharply as he eased just enough for you to catch up.

He glanced over at you then, noticing the quiet that emanated around you, his mouth already pulling around a comment. But whatever he had been about to say fell from his face when the front tire of his bike caught on a rock beneath the dirt.

“Jesus, Noah,” you laughed, watching him jerk the handlebars straight and hold himself with one foot, shoe dragging through the earth. “Maybe if you stopped staring at me, you’d actually ride straight.”

He blew a strand of hair out of his face, his smile flashing before he turned forward again. “Maybe if you stopped being distracting, I’d have a chance.”

It was hard to hide the flush that climbed onto your cheeks and ears, so you looked away before he could read into it. For a while, you focused on the path instead of him, noting the way the grass grew thicker and the bird song grew louder.

As the ground gradually sloped downward, you recognized the narrowing trail where the dirt became softer, the air cooling a few degrees as the trees opened wider ahead. The echo of the river grew louder before revealing itself at the end of the path, your chest tightening around the memory of it.

You caught glimpses of the shallows first, then the moss-dark stones and the fallen log still resting near the bend. For one second, you expected the water to welcome you back, falling back into step, not only through memory.

Though when Noah stopped and leaned his bike against the same tree he always had, you couldn’t help but realize how shallow the river had seemingly become.

“Why does it look so much… smaller, now?”

Noah followed your gaze to the water. For once, he did not answer right away.

The river moved over the stones in that same rush, but it no longer seemed wide enough to swallow you. To the left, the round pocket you had built as kids still sat cupped inside its crooked ring of rocks, somehow intact after all these years; but now it was small and bare, with only a few minnows swirling through the clear water without purpose.

“I think we got bigger,” he said finally.

You looked over at him, only to see the way he watched the current held the same longing you felt along your chest.

“That’s stupid.” Your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

Noah shrugged. “It’s unfortunately the answer.”

As you glanced back at the river and the log and that stupid little stone pool that stubbornly survived- your shoulders fell.

“Why did we have to grow up?” you asked, and Noah barely heard you over the sound of the water.

“I don’t know,” he said, making you turn, tracing his eyes with your own. “Sometimes I hate that we did.”

You watched his mouth open and close, clamping over words he did not seem ready to give. His stare moved over your face, catching the way your brows twitched in question at his hesitation, before he dropped his gaze to the ground.

Noah’s jaw worked once more to chew back the question. Though he let it slip anyway.

“Did you ever want to stay?”

He looked up slowly, and you wished he hadn’t. You wished he had kept his eyes on the dirt so you could pretend the sound of the water had swept away the question before you could have heard it.

The way you sucked in a breath gave him the answer. “Noah,” you whispered, almost apologetic.

His lips twitched, but there was no humour behind it. “Sounds like yes.”

It was easier then to look back at the river than it was to look at him. “I did,” you admitted. “For a long time, I really did.”

Noah’s voice softened. “Then why didn’t you?”

You swallowed down the words you couldn’t say. Because staying would have meant wanting things you were too scared to name, and leaving had felt easier than standing next door to him every summer and pretending your heart did not trip every single time he smiled at you. You had been seventeen, and then eighteen, and then gone; which wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? Grow up and then… leave?

You only shrugged, eyes fixed on the current. “I had to start my life.”

Then it was Noah's turn to look away before you could see the way his eyes sank in vulnerability, his hands now resting inside his pockets because at least then he could cover up and hide even just a small part of himself.

“You had one here,” he stated. “With the boys and your family.”

He shrugged his shoulders, though there was nothing careless about it or the way he now looked down at the ground as he toed away at a loose rock in the dirt.

“With…me.”

It was unfair the way your heart ached from his words. You faced him, yet he remained poised towards the river, licking his lips and lifting his head to stare out across the bend, as if you weren’t there.

Sucking in a nervous breath, you laughed faintly. “I think that was the problem.”

Noah’s brow pulled together slightly, and you hated the way he understood just enough to be hurt by it.

“I mean,” you continued quickly, “aren’t we supposed to do that? Leave and go figure out who we are away from everything we used to be?”

Away from you, you did not say.

Noah finally turned, not just his head but his whole body, facing you with what now seemed like confrontation.

“Did it work?” he asked. “Do you feel any different than you did then?”

And although he did not say what he truly meant, because he did not ask if leaving had made you forget the shape of summers with him- or if another city or another man had been enough to make your heart stop reaching backward, you knew.

So Noah continued to stare, waiting to see if you would lie.

“No.” You whispered, breathing another moment before letting the words go. “I’ve only gotten older.”

Noah's face twitched. It was small, barely more than the pull of his brow, and his mouth parted around a breath he was not ready to take.

For once, he did not look like he knew what to do with you.

“Trees,” he said softly.

You opened your mouth, but whatever you might have said was swallowed by the bushes rustling behind you.

The blob of a man crashed through the brush from the left with a plastic bag hooked around his wrist, and you screamed high-pitched with fear as you jumped back, letting go of your bike.

The swede screamed at the sound, bag swinging around as the cans clattered together, and Noah stumbled backward, hand clutching his chest. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with me?” Jolly yelled, eyes wide as he gasped. “She screamed first.”

“You came out of the trees!” You snapped breathlessly, sighing in relief that it was just Jolly.

Folio appeared behind him, pushing his bike through the bushes with a cider in his hand. Ruffilo laughed, snorting heavily as he ducked beneath a branch.

“I told him not to jump out.” Ruffilo tried to hide his smile as he looked between you and Noah. “But now I’m kinda glad he did.”

“To be fair, I didn’t jump,” Jolly argued, huffing out a breath, “I merely emerged.”

The weight of Noah’s stare lingered at the side of your face as you kneeled to pick up your bike, gripping the handlebars. Both of you pretended that your racing hearts were only because Jolly had decided to crawl out of the woods, that when you finally risked a glance, Noah looked away too quickly, dragging a hand through his hair.

Folio took a slow sip from his drink, eyes moving between the two of you with interest. “So,” he said, swallowing. “Are we interrupting something, or...?”

“No,” you said too quickly.

Noah answered at the same time. “Shut up.”

Jolly’s eyes widened with delight as Ruffilo stepped around a patch of mud near the bank.

“Okay, well, before this becomes whatever that was, change of plans,” Folio said, crushing his can and tossing it into your bike basket.

You looked at him. “We just got here.”

“Exactly,” Jolly said, “And the vibes are off.”

“The vibes?” Noah repeated, still a little breathless.

Jolly gestured broadly toward the river. “Look at this place. It’s depressing now.”

“It is not depressing,” you said, though your voice gave you away.

“But it is, though. We got here early,” Folio explained, shifting his bike against his hip, “and Jolly started talking about how the log looks tiny now, which made Ruffilo say it’s probably because we’re adults, which made Jolly spiral about taxes and dental coverage and how he pulled something in his back last week just because he sneezed funny.”

“I almost died, and that's a fact,” Jolly said solemnly.

Noah’s mouth twitched despite himself, some of the tension loosening from his shoulders. “So what, the river hurt your feelings?”

“Yes,” Jolly said, pointing at him. “Thank you for understanding.”

“So where are we going instead?” you asked.

Jolly’s grin returned, which should have worried you. Folio looked far too pleased as he swung one leg back over his bike. Ruffilo however sighed because a part of him had already regretted leaving his house.

Noah noticed, and his head tilted, eyes narrowing. “No.”

“Yes,” Jolly countered.

“No, what?” you asked, eyes darting between them.

Jolly only smiled wider at that, pushing his bike back toward the trail. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

By the time the trees thinned again, before the house had fully appeared through the leaves, you already knew.

“No,” you mirrored, the word weak.

The clearing opened gradually, the trees loosening around the trail until long grass brushed everyone’s legs, and the Miller house came into full view at the far edge of the clearing.

The white siding had gone grey with age, and even the thistles were tall enough to scrape your calves, sprouting through the dirt around the porch which now sagged in the middle. One of the front windows had been boarded from the inside, the wood warped with water stains, while sheets of plastic hung behind the others, shifting in the breeze.

It looked just as abandoned as you remembered, even with the signs of renovation showing through. Nonetheless, the sight of it made your heart kick heavily.

Folio spread his arms. “Yes.”

“Be for fucking real,” you groaned, not even trying to hide the whine that slipped into your voice. “You think this abomination is better than the river?”

Jolly turned toward the house. “What? No better time to find the woman in the window than at the ripe age of twenty-five!”

Noah glanced at you, and you looked away too quickly, pretending the upstairs window had stolen your attention first.

It was easier to fear the ghosts, you thought.

He made a quiet sound beside you, not quite a laugh, and you frowned. “You’re thinking about it, aren't you?”

Noah’s smile deepened as his hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your shirt as he nudged you closer to the house. “What, you mean the getaway ride?” His eyes flicked to the upstairs window, then back to you.

Your face warmed before you could stop it. “Noah, I swear I saw her.”

He did not laugh right away. His smile softened, caught on the memory of when you were twelve, hands twisted into the back of his shirt, knees bumping against his bike frame as you screamed at him to go faster. You had been so worried that something was chasing you, and he had been laughing so hard he nearly tipped you both into the curb.

He then looked down at himself, a proud hum vibrating from his chest. “Well,” he said, easing his hand from the small of your back, “I can protect you now that I’m big and strong.”

You blinked at him. “Great,” you muttered. “I’m sure the ghost is terrified.”

Noah’s tease was gentle beside you. “She should be.”

Folio yelled from ahead, “She’s been dead for a hundred years bro.”

“Then she’s had plenty of time to hear about me and my katana.” Noah cupped his hand over his mouth and called toward the upstairs window, “I’m not afraid of you!”

The plastic behind one of the upstairs windows ruffled against the wood in a papery shift where the breeze caught and dragged it lightly against the frame. Your eyes snapped toward it, and you stepped toward Noah so quickly your bike tipped sideways from between your hands.

You were close enough now that your shoulder brushed his, and he stilled beside you for only a second before turning to look down at your grip on his arm. A smug smile curled from the corner of his lips, though beneath it, you felt the way his arm tensed. His breath had caught quietly, and when your fingers shifted against his skin, his pulse jumped beneath your thumb.

Noah’s gaze moved from your hand to your face, his face still teasing except for the part of his eyes that had gone too warm. Jolly and Folio were snickering ahead, but you ignored it, too embarrassed by where your hand was and how fast Noah’s heart seemed to be answering.

Ruffilo, who had been quiet for too long, exhaled through his teeth. “Can we not yell when we are literally about to trespass?”

Leaving your bike behind in the trees, you followed the boys toward the porch. The house looked worse the closer you came to it, stripped down to wood and chunks of siding.

“So, no one lives here anymore?”

Folio shook his head as Jolly reached the front door and wrapped a hand around the withered handle. “Nope. Someone bought it and started renovating. It’s entirely gutted right now.”

The door rattled in its frame as Jolly pushed against it once, the old wood complaining without opening. He huffed out a sigh and stepped carefully across the splitting porch, pausing whenever one creaked too loudly beneath him.

“They thought it would be fun to sneak in and take a peek,” Ruffilo said, his mouth flattening as he watched Jolly move toward the front window.

“Thought? Like, past tense?” Folio echoed, already following.

“Yeah, because I still think,” Jolly corrected.

Lingering at the bottom of the porch steps, your eyes moved over the mismatched boards and the plastic taped behind the windows. The gap beneath the front door was dark, dust and old leaves collecting between the grooves.

Noah stepped up beside you, his arm brushing yours. “You good?” he asked quietly, and you nodded.

You looked toward the window just as Jolly slid it upward, the wood scraping against the wood, making Ruffilo wince. Jolly froze halfway through, eyes wide, one hand still shoved beneath the frame until the window gave way all at once, jerking open with a sharp crack.

The Swede immediately grinned, turning back toward the rest of you with triumph before ducking his head inside. He climbed in, his long limbs lanky and awkward as he caught himself on the other side. Folio followed with less grace, laughing under his breath when his shoe knocked against the frame, and Ruffilo stood on the porch for one long second before finally sighing and climbing in after them.

Placing your hands on the chipped sill, sawdust pressed into your palms when you leaned forward. Inside, Jolly had already moved deeper into the front room, his voice echoing strangely through the gutted space, and Noah placed himself behind you.

“Here,” he said softly. His hands found your waist, warm through the thin fabric of your shirt. You sucked in a breath, hoping he didn’t hear the sound as he helped hoist you through, lifting your body as you pulled.

Your knee caught on the sill and Noah’s grip tightened.

“Careful, Trees,” he murmured, voice slipping beneath your skin.

“I’m trying,” you whispered, and it came out less annoyed than you wanted. With an awkward push, you made it over the frame and stumbled into the house, landing on the dusty floor with both hands out to steady yourself. Noah followed right after, ducking through the window, fingers braced on the sill before his sneakers hit the floor behind you.

The smell of sawdust and earth gathered thickly inside the house, mixed with old wood and the dry, chalky scent of drywall. It clung to the back of your throat as you straightened, brushing your palms against your shorts and leaving pale streaks behind.

Everything inside had been stripped down to the bones of the place, the walls open with exposed studs. The floor was scattered with old leaves, littered with pieces of torn plaster. Sheets of plastic hung in various places from the ceiling, dripping down through every doorway and hallway, turning the last of the evening light hazy and orange as the outside light bled through.

Noah brushed dust from his hands, and as you watched, you could still feel the phantom pressure of his fingers still resting at your waist, even though he had already let go.

You shifted forward before the feeling could show on your face, reaching into the plastic bag to grab your own can as Jolly, Ruffilo and Folio opened another.

Jolly wandered farther into the living room, phone light raised, even though there was still enough light to see. The beam swept over a peeled strip of wallpaper, a ladder leaning against the far wall.

“This is significantly better than the river.” He said, voice echoing through the hollow room,

Folio tipped his can toward the ceiling, squinting up at the exposed beams. “Yeah. Kind of cozy.”

“Nothing about this is cozy,” Ruffilo muttered, and even though you would’ve hummed in agreement, you barely heard them.

Your eyes had already found the staircase, a shiver running down your spine. Half the banister had been removed, and the remaining steps climbed into a darker pocket of the house where the orange light did not quite reach. Somewhere above, plastic shifted as another breeze cast through any cracks; the sound, though small, was enough to make that old childhood fear crawl up your throat.

Noah, to your dismay, had been watching you the entire time.

“Still scared of the upstairs?” he asked quietly.

You shot him a look. “No. I’ve grown up…”

His eyes remained careful, fixed on your own. “Yeah. You told me.” Then, his mouth turned with knowing. “Doesn’t mean much changed.”

Staring at him with the awareness of the way he looked at you, daring you to follow, made you swallow thickly. His smile stayed small, but there was less teasing in it now.

“Prove it, Y/N.”

The sound of your name in his mouth made the room feel even more barren than it physically could be. Only the boy next door could take something as stupid as a dare and make it about something else entirely.

“Fine,” you said, because backing down would have been worse, and Noah’s nod made it harder to breathe.

Folio went first, one hand sliding along the wall where the banister had been removed. The stairs groaned beneath his weight, each sound loud through the hollow house. Ruffilo followed after him, quieter now, as Jolly took the rear.

You stepped onto the first stair, which caused the wood to dip beneath your foot, Noah close behind you. His breath was quiet at your back, his steps matching yours as the orange light from the living room below grew into a dusk grey above. It was warmer on the upper landing, dust coating the air with the smell of stale drywall.

The old fear curled around your stomach, but so did something else when Noah then threaded his fingers through yours.

You looked down before you could stop yourself, watching his hand find yours in the dim light. The boys had lowered their voices to whispers, as if the darkness only welcomed softer things.

“Noah,” you whispered, and he only looked ahead, his thumb brushing once against your knuckle.

“Proving it,” he murmured.

It was hard not to think about the way his fingers fit between yours perfectly, as if they were furious they had waited so long, or the way he held you without teasing and tugging just to see what affect he had on you.

At the top of the stairs, the hallway opened into a larger bonus room stripped bare like the rest of the house. Folio lifted his phone, sweeping the flashlight across the room.

The beam caught on a rolled-up rug, tucked against another ladder placed just below the attic. A tin bucket of tools sat against a withered door, propping it open, as more plastic drapes coated the walls.

“Okay,” he whispered, quieter now. “Well this is actually creepy.”

Every pair of shoes crunched against the torn floor, the sound of a nail skittering and rolling across the wood ringing through the quiet hall when Ruffilo kicked it by accident.

Jolly raised his own phone light, grin returning even though his voice had dropped. “Helloooo, window woman.”

Ruffilo stood near the top of the stairs, arms tight around himself. “This is such a bad idea. If someone is outside, the sun is setting so fast they’ll be able to see us through the windows.”

As if the spirits had heard him, a pale sweep of headlights cut through the plastic of the front bedroom.

Everyone froze, your hand squeezing Noah's before you could think. The light moved slowly over the room, casting shadows along the walls, making the exposed studs throw long, thin lines across the floor.

Folio lowered his phone first as Jolly glanced at the group, and Ruffilo whispered a rushed, “Turn them off.”

Every flashlight went dark as Jolly cursed under his breath.

“Why would you manifest that shit, man?”

The sound of tires crunching over gravel grew louder as the car approached the house. No one moved as the room held you all in place, the hum of the engine echoing through the walls. Another beam of light dragged over the plastic, brighter this time, and the floorboards beneath your feet glowed faintly before falling back into shadow.

“Move,” Ruffilo hissed.

Panic broke through the room all at once. Jolly grabbed Folio by the sleeve and stumbled toward the hanging sheets of plastic, both of them slipping and crashing into the ladder. It fell to the floor with a metallic clatter, loud enough to make Noah swear under his breath.

Ruffilo ducked toward the back bedroom as Folio and Jolly followed. You were about to join them before Noah’s hand tightened around yours.

“This way,” he breathed, pulling you with him.

You stumbled after him through the dark, your shoulder brushing exposed insulation. Your free hand caught briefly against a nail as he guided you toward the withered door at the side of the room. The tin bucket that had been propping it open scraped against the floor when Noah kicked it aside, and the sound made both of you freeze.

Outside, the engine idled, and Noah pulled the door open just enough for you to slip through.

The room beyond was smaller than you expected, narrow, yet tall, with stacks of baseboards piled on the torn carpet. Noah stepped in after you and eased the door mostly shut behind him, leaving only a thin strip of grey light cutting across the floor.

Neither of you breathed until the car door slammed outside.

“Shit,” you looked around, pulling your hand from Noah’s to peek outside the window.

It faced the backyard, the plastic taped over the glass turning everything outside blurry, even with the night sky that shone through. Peering underneath one warped corner where the tape had peeled loose, you caught a glimpse of Folio’s face appearing in another upstairs window.

A man’s voice carried from outside, sharp enough to cut through the walls, and Folio’s head disappeared.

“Hey!”

Your stomach dropped, and Noah immediately pulled you from the plastic, pressing your back against his chest and into the closet. Leaning against the wall, he looked over your shoulder toward the yard as a flashlight beamed up from the ground towards the house.

“Stay down,” he breathed as you sank against him, feeling the press of his heart as footsteps crunched below.

Somewhere in the house, something clattered. There was a curse, followed by Jolly’s voice that sounded falsely deep and more polite than he had ever really been.

“Good evening, sir.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth. Noah’s fingers found your waist on instinct, steadying you as both of you froze in the room.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” the man called.

Another clatter followed, and then there was a scream, which was certainly Jolly.

“Get out of there, you little shits!”

“We’re just… looking around?” Folio offered, and you heard the door below open and close, rattling the floor beneath your feet.

Ruffilo’s voice cut in, strained but controlled. “Hey, yeah, we’re leaving. I’m sorry. We know this was stupid.”

“You think?” the man snapped. “This is private property.”

Jolly cleared his throat, yelling at the man who stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “In our defence, the mosquitoes are pretty bad outside. And you should probably put up more signs.”

“Jolly,” Ruffilo hissed, earning a snicker from Folio. The three of them shuffled down the hall, stopping just outside the door you were hidden behind.

Noah’s breath moved unevenly against your hair, almost a laugh, but he swallowed it down before it became a sound.

The man said something you couldn’t make out, lower this time. Ruffilo answered, his voice steadier.

“It’s just us. We promise it won’t happen again.”

Noah’s fingers dug gently into your waist as you tensed against him, realizing they were right outside the door. Ruffilo, Folio, Jolly, and whoever the man was, all close enough that one breath could give you away.

You could hear Jolly breathing too loudly in the hallway as the man’s flashlight cut beneath the crack of the door, a thin white line dragging over the floorboards and stopping just short of Noah’s sneakers.

Noah’s forearm tightened around your middle, making you feel every place his body met yours. Your hands rested on his, and the longer you were pressed against him, the harder your pulse skipped.

“Downstairs,” the man ordered, and there was a shuffle of movement.

Folio’s voice drifted past the door, fading away as they descended. “For the record, I agree that the signage was unclear.”

“Shut up,” Ruffilo whispered.

Both you and Noah stayed in place until the front door slammed shut, locking in place. Their muffled voices carried from outside.

Noah’s fingers loosened but didn’t pull away, giving you enough room to move if you wanted to, but you didn't.

Outside, Jolly said something that made the man bark back at him, but the words blurred beneath the rush of blood in your ears. You shifted carefully to turn and make space where there was none, but the closet was too narrow. Your hip pressed back against him, your body fitting too close to his, and Noah made a low sound in his throat before he could suppress it.

“You okay?” You said quietly, already trying to step away.

His hand tightened once more to keep you there a second longer, which was when you felt the heat of him, the tension below his waist proof he wasn’t as unaffected as he had pretended to be.

Your breath caught, and he knew you realized, every part of him careful.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

As the voices below retreated and the car engine grew louder, you should have stepped forward. Instead, your fingers settled over his knuckles, and you let your body press further against him.

“Trees,” the nickname almost sounded like a plea- your head turning enough to feel his lips brush your temple.

And although you no longer needed to stay in the space of the closet, you did, turning carefully so your shoulder brushed the wall until your chest was against his. You stopped when facing him in the dark, nowhere left to look except at the curve of his lips.

It was hard to see the expression on his face while hidden in the shadow, but as his hand rose to your jaw, thumb brushing the dip of your chin, you had a pretty good feeling about where his own eyes lay.

“Tell me no.” Noah’s breath fanned your face, and you shook your head.

His thumb stilled beneath your chin.

The sound of your name left your chest tight, and for a second, you heard the river again, his voice asking if you had ever wanted to stay.

“I won’t leave this time.” You said.

You rose onto the tips of your toes, and his hand cupped your cheek as he bent toward you, fingers vibrating beneath your jaw, and the recognition of his nerves made a breathy laugh escape your lips.

Noah, who had always grinned smugly in your driveway while trying to make you nervous. Noah, who had stolen your phone and teased you until your face burned. Noah, who always seemed so very sure of himself… here, in the dark, he was shaking- careful until the very second your mouth found his.

At the press of your lips, he did not dare move, as though afraid one wrong breath might make you pull away in regret. But when you pushed harder against his mouth and when your fingers curled into his shirt, kissing him like you had been waiting just as long, his composure fell.

His breath broke hungry against your mouth.

As his hand slid from your cheek into your hair, he tugged at the strands, his mouth deepening the kiss in an ache you felt in your knees. All you could hear was the pounding of your heart as his lips were no longer careful.

Noah exhaled because he had been holding his breath for years, fingers gripping your waist and tightening as he pulled you as close as physically possible.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud as you spun, and he followed with a hand bracing beside your head to keep from crushing you into it. The movement made the baseboards shift near your feet, and you both froze for half a second, mouths still touching as a breath caught between you.

Outside, the man’s voice carried faintly through the walls over the sound of his car, and you pulled away slightly, just for Noah to brush your lips.

The brunette let out the quietest laugh against your mouth, the sound sending warmth down your arms and across your stomach.

“Shh,” you scolded, though you were the one who had kissed him again.

His mouth curved beneath yours for a moment until the smile disappeared into it. You felt him everywhere, the press of his chest and the warmth of his palm at the base of your neck with the tremble still hiding in his hand every time he touched you.

You had imagined kissing Noah before, dozens of times.

At seventeen, you dreamed of the heat in your backyard with that fire pit smoke clinging to his shirt and his knee brushing yours beneath the table. At eighteen, when he crossed his bedroom window shirtless, albeit on purpose, it was a sight that left you wanting him out loud. Even now, older and supposedly different, you had imagined it in brief, shameful flashes every time your eyes met his.

Yet, you had never imagined him shaking.

Your hands slid up his chest, fingers catching in his shirt as you pulled him down, earning another sound he tried to swallow. Noah held his forehead against yours as he briefly pulled his mouth away.

“Fuck’s sake.” He almost sounded hurt, a tone of disbelief ringing through the words.

Your fingers tightened, meeting his gaze. Your eyes adjusted to the dark, barely able to make out the frustrated lines of his face.

“What?”

Noah shook his head once as his hands slid around your back, one resting low on the curve of your spine while the other held your shoulder blades.

“I thought it would feel different,” he whispered, pulling you toward him as he stepped out of the closet.

Your breath caught. “The kiss?”

“You.” He swallowed, his thumb brushing once at the base of your spine. “I thought that maybe if it ever happened, moving on would feel easier.”

You barely breathed. “And?”

His mouth hovered near yours, not touching.

“It doesn’t.”

The words sat with you, close enough to feel against your lips. All you could do for a long moment was stare at him and the shadows of his face in the dark room. He still held you close, and your fingers loosened before curling into his shirt again, lost in thought.

“No, it really doesn’t.” You agreed.

You reached for him first, fingers sliding into his hair. And when you kissed him again, it was slower, heavier, relishing the taste of his mouth that moved in an agonizing longing you had never once known before. Noah’s tongue pressed slowly along your bottom lip, the sensation making the room tilt beneath your feet.

His lips tried to learn what years had stolen from him, for possibly he could make up for every lost summer both of you had spent pretending not to want this.

Your back met a wall once more before you realized you had even moved, the unfinished drywall leaving a dust of white on the back of your shirt. Noah followed the motion but stopped himself before his weight could press too fully into yours, and even then, he was careful.

The fingers you threaded through his hair ran down the back of his neck, pulling him, and the small distance he had left between you disappeared. The line of him pressed against your thigh, and he let an unsteady breath slip between your mouth as the house creaked somewhere behind the door.

Noah’s mouth dragged from yours only far enough to breathe. “We should stop,” he said quietly, but his thumb brushed the skin beneath your shirt, tracing the waistband of your shorts.

“Do you want to?” You whispered, catching the shift of his jaw as he scoffed a laugh.

For a second time tonight, you thought he may lie. And you almost wanted him to, if only because one of you should have been sensible enough to remember the dust in your lungs, and that your friends were probably waiting somewhere in the treeline for you to escape.

When his ocher eyes lifted to yours, the moonlight casting through the plastic-covered window told you everything you needed to know.

“No,” he said lowly, “Not even a little.”

“Okay,” you replied, his breath catching as your hands lowered to his shorts. Mirroring his fingers, you skimmed his waistband, dipping the tips of your fingers between him and the elastic.

He kissed you harder this time, his hand fully sliding beneath the edge of your shirt. His palm was warm against your waist as he slid it up your back, your stomach pulling tight as he roamed his hands over your skin fervently.

You arched into him without meaning to, and his mouth left yours with a moan, dragging along the corner of your jaw instead. The kiss he left there was open, aching, and hungry as you let your fingers slide a little farther beneath his waistband.

Noah’s hands tightened at your back as he breathed your name in warning, but you only smiled. For all the teasing and cocky grins he could always muster, nothing smug lingered on his face now.

“Let’s go home.” He murmured, dragging his teeth gently down the curve of your neck before pressing a string of kisses back up, stopping only once he reached your mouth. “I need you, but not here.”

You nodded, mouth against his once more before he pulled away, lips brushing your ear. “In my bed,” his words rushing ever lower in your stomach. “Where I can take my time with you.”

part three coming soon

tags: (Join/leave my taglist here) (apologies if they are not updated!)

Second drawer of his bedside table. Take his watch and bring it back to me. Do not get caught.

Those exact words from the estate’s ‘chief security’ were still ringing in your head while you stood frozen in place, heart hammering through your chest as you felt your entire body go cold. 

There really was no other way out now, it seemed.

“Well? Care to explain yourself?” 

The heavy gold watch dangled around your trembling fingers, its owner awaiting your response as he leaned against the doorframe. His voice remained low, his face clearly unamused with his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

Who on earth would be amused anyway if you caught one of your housemaids stealing your Rolex?

It’s not like one watch would make a dent in his net worth, but that’s besides the point.

It was just your third day at your job in the estate, and you already found yourself in trouble with none other than your boss, Mr. Noah Davis.

“Sir, I’m sorry… i-it was Chad who asked me to do this.” 

You carefully placed his watch on the small table as you heard him huff. 

“What, you didn’t even question him? Ask him why the fuck he would need my watch?”

“I- I’m not… I don’t—“

He cut you off with a loud scoff, his lips tugged by a devilish grin as he slowly took a few steps towards you.

“You do know I could get you fired and file a case against you, right?”

You gulped, eyes going wide as your hands started nervously playing with the hem of your shirt, as if the piece of cotton would provide you with respite of any kind.

“Sir, p-please… I’m sorry, I-I’ll do anything,” you stuttered as you saw Noah’s smirk grow wider.

“How old are you again?”

“I’m 21, sir,” you quietly answered, biting your lip hard. “Please… I won’t– I won’t do this again. You can report me to the agency, sir, but p-please… I can’t go to jail. My family needs me.”

He snickered, “Do you know what they do to pretty and innocent girls like you in jail?” 

You shook your head as tears brimmed in your eyes. 

Clearly amused at your pitiful face, Noah moved closer and towered over your petite frame, leaving about a foot of space between the two of you.

“How about I show you, hm?”

“W-what?” You nervously swallowed.

“How criminals like you get treated in prison.” Slowly, one of his big tattooed hands reached out to your face and carefully tucked your hair behind your ear.

You flinched involuntarily at the contact. “S-sir, I don’t understand…”

“Tell me, sweetheart, when was the last time your boyfriend fucked you?”

“H-Huh?”

“That was a simple question. Don’t play dumb with me.” He lifted your chin a bit aggressively, forcing you to look into his eyes as his long fingers started to caress your jaw.

You blinked back your tears as you reluctantly spoke, “I have never… I’ve never had sex, sir.”

Noah’s eyebrows furrowed in amusement, letting out a breathy laugh. “Then you’re really gonna end up being someone’s bitch in jail, young lady.”

“Sir, no, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please don’t send me to the police. I’ll do anything,” you pleaded once again, your knees bucking as you awkwardly kneeled in front of your boss. You tilted your head up to not break eye contact, hoping the man in front of you could see the sincerity of your apologies.

Noah continued to enjoy the sight in front of him as you begged with clasped hands and tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

He could really have fun with you his way then.

“Hm… what a good girl you are… already in position,” he taunted before unbuckling his belt and pulling his zipper down. He shamelessly lowered his pants and boxers enough to let his cock free, making your eyes go wide. “Come on, suck me, you little slut.”

You had never seen a dick up close before, yet you already knew he was bigger than average. Despite the shaft looking soft and hanging limply off his trimmed groin, it definitely looked girthy, with a protruding vein adorning its underside. 

“Come on,” he repeated, his hand squeezing his shaft as he stroked it. “You’d rather be my bitch now than somebody else’s in prison.”

Letting out a sharp breath, you grabbed his member reluctantly, slowly bringing it closer to your quivering lips. You were not even sure what to do, but decided to place a soft kiss on its head, which automatically made his shaft twitch in your hand. You brought your tongue towards its base, licking all the way up to the tip where you played with the slit, making the man above you groan. With your every move, you felt his cock grow hard, its dark mushroomed tip now starting to glisten with your spit and his own arousal. 

“Open your mouth and put it inside; I don’t have forever,” Noah grumbled, grabbing the back of your head to push you towards his pelvis.

You did not dare fight him anymore and did as told. 

His now hard cock slid effortlessly inside your mouth, the tip immediately hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.

Noah chuckled as he disregarded your discomfort and started thrusting his shaft in and out of you. 

You let him use you as he pleased, your hands finding purchase in the muscles of his thighs that clenched in every move. 

Spit dribbled down your chin, mixing with the tears that found their way down from your cheeks. 

Who would have thought you’d end up on your knees sucking your boss’s cock in his bedroom today? Letting a man you barely knew use your mouth in the worst way possible?

But better this than jail time. Right?

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good. You sure you’ve never taken a cock before?” He snickered between his grunts and moans. 

You shook your head in response as you looked at his blissed-out face. Your teary eyes continued to plead for him to let you go already.

“Shit, shit, I’m gonna–” Noah’s grunts swallowed his words as you felt him shoot spurts of hot cum right into your throat. His cock pulsated in your mouth while your boss stilled and emptied his load in you. 

You breathed heavily through your nose, lightly pushing him off you. 

Gladly, he finally let you go, making you gasp as you plopped down onto the carpeted floor. You wiped the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand as you tried to compose yourself, catching your breath while you let things sink in. 

But before you could even get yourself together, you heard Noah speak as he moved across the room. 

“Now take your clothes off and get on the bed.”

What?

Noah scoffed, giving you an incredulous look. You did not realize you said that out loud. 

“B-but… sir, please.”

“Did I stutter?”

Noah undressed himself completely before walking to the door and locking it. His cock was hard again, standing all red and glistening against his abdomen.

Deep inside, you gawked at the sight. You never thought your boss was fully tattooed from the waist up. And before he took off his shirt, you never thought tattooed guys could get this hot.

You shook off those inappropriate thoughts and went back to worrying about your current situation.

You sat frozen on the floor as your naked boss stood in front of you, his hands on his hips, impatiently waiting for you to move.

“So?”

With wobbly legs, you slowly stood up. You swallowed before nodding, your eyes fixated on the ‘Desolate’ typography above his navel.

Hesitantly, you took off your shirt and pants and neatly folded them on the bedside table. You were now standing awkwardly with only your lace bra and panties on, crossing your arms against your chest.

Noah’s eyes raked up and down your semi-exposed body, his cock twitching at the sight of your cleavage and peeping cameltoe. 

“Do I really need to manhandle you and rip those off you?”

“Mr. Davis, I-“

“What? Do you want me to call the police instead?” He fished his phone out of the pocket of his discarded jeans, making your heart race anew.

“No, sir,” you quietly responded. “Please, don’t…”

“Then fucking strip,” he sternly said as he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving you as he manspread, his cock standing erect as if taunting you once more.

Noah gripped his shaft with one hand while his other scrolled through his phone before bringing the device to his ear.

With eyes wide, you hurriedly unclasped your bra, letting your boobs spring free, making Noah groan quietly. And with no hesitation, you pushed your panties down, revealing your groomed sex to his hungry eyes.

“Sir… please don’t call the police…” Your eyes welled as you heard the other line pick up.

Smirking, he shushed you as he began speaking. “Yeah… cancel all my meetings this afternoon, and make sure no one disturbs me. I’ll be in my room… doing important stuff.”

He hung up and threw his phone on the mattress. But that did not stop your tears from dripping down your cheeks again. 

“Now get on the bed; I can’t wait to come inside that virgin little pussy.” Noah pulled you down on the bed, pushing you into position. But you pulled away from his grip and tried to plead one last time.

“Sir, please,” you hiccuped. “Anything but this…”

“Do you know crying turns me on even more?” He whispered, his thumb wiping the tears on your cheeks.

“No, please, sir. I’ll work for you for free, just… not this. Please, not this.” Frantic, you bargained, not knowing what else to offer instead.

He scoffed, not even slightly bothered. If anything, Noah was bothered by your pert nipples that hardened from the room temperature and were now begging to be sucked by his lips. 

His hands found your breasts, palms pushing your chest as your back hit the mattress. “You should’ve thought twice about stealing from me then. Now spread those legs and let me see that pussy.”

Noah licked his lips as you reluctantly opened your legs for him. He crawled towards you and pried your knees apart to spread you even wider; the cold breeze from the AC hit your exposed folds, making you shiver.

“Fuck, I haven’t been with a virgin for so fucking long,” he murmured, his fingers starting to rub along your puffy folds, opening your lips to expose your pink clenching entrance to his lust-filled eyes. “Shit, look how tiny you are. My cock’s gonna ruin you.”

Before you could even respond and beg for him to stop, you yelped at the sudden feeling of his wet tongue licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your folds, his stubble grazing your inner thighs making you shiver.

You squealed, trying to close your thighs to push him away, but Noah’s large hands forced them open. He was gripping you so hard you could already feel them bruising.

“There’s no point hiding or running away from me, sweetheart. Trust me, I won’t hesitate to fuck you anywhere in this house, even in front of people,” he said before his lips wrapped around your sensitive flesh. “Now if I were you, just fucking relax and enjoy this.”

Then his finger poked your entrance and slid inside you inch by inch, making you feel the ridges of his bony digit.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wincing from the stinging sensation.

“Holy shit, you are so tight. How will you be able to take my cock?” He asked mockingly as he moved his finger in and out of your pussy. Noah dived right back and nibbled on your folds, covering you in his spit.

You could feel the end of the bed rocking, and when you dared look down, you saw him grinding against the mattress, his butt clenching with his movements.

Cursing, a whole new wave of panic crashed into you as Noah’s lips and fingers left your now throbbing pussy. He stood on his knees between your open thighs, one hand stroking his leaking cock while the other kept you spread.

“Sir… no,” you cried.

He tut-tutted, his large frame hovering over you. Smirking, he leaned down to place a kiss on your lower abdomen, up to your navel, ascending towards your heaving chest. He pecked both of your nipples, and as he wrapped his lips around one, you felt his bulbous tip pressing against your entrance, making you gasp and cry harder.

You tried to wiggle out of his grasp again, but Noah’s big tattooed body pressed you completely helpless against his soft sheets. 

The pressure of his tip poking into you increased, and you felt your entrance stretch as he pushed his cock into you— slow but hard enough to make you feel the burn.

“It hurts…” You whimpered.

“Hm, really?” He mumbled against your nipple, releasing it with a pop. “Too bad I don’t go easy on pretty little thieves.”

A fresh batch of tears trickled down your temple as you silently cursed, face all scrunched up, making Noah giggle on top of you.

“You look so cute crying, taking cock for the first time. I would’ve loved making love with you, but… maybe next time.”

With that, he slammed his hips hard into you, making you scream, hands curled around his sheets.

“Fuck me, you are the tightest pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned as he started thrusting in and out of you. “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby girl.”

Noah’s lips moved up to your collarbone, towards the crook of your neck where he kissed and sucked until a purple bruise bloomed on your skin. An involuntary moan left your mouth, making him smirk.

“Are you enjoying this?”

You shook your head no, mouth continued to silently plead for him to stop.

“You better not be,” he grunted as he moved back to his knees and started pounding into you like a madman. “'Cause this is your punishment for stealing from me. You steal my watch; I steal your pussy.”

Noah slammed hard again, letting out shameless moans as you felt his movements stuttering. 

“Are you on the pill?” He turned your head aggressively so you could look at him. “Answer me.”

“No, sir,” you whimpered.

He chuckled, his thrusts now faltering bit by bit. “Okay, just pray that I don’t get you pregnant.”

“Please… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He taunted, groaning as he felt himself reaching his high.

“Not inside me, sir… please.”

He smirked. “Just imagine what other people would say about you. Little virgin new girl sleeping with the boss...”

You cried hard, your legs trying to push him away, but again to no avail.

“Fuck… I can imagine your stomach swollen with my baby inside you. Fuck…” 

And with that, strings of curses left Noah’s mouth as he slammed into you one last time. Warm spurts of his come shoot inside your contracting walls, making you squirm underneath him.

His cock stilled, throbbing heavily. His body went limp on top of you as he calmed himself down, his face buried into your neck as both of your heavy breaths went in sync. 

It did not take long for you to hear him chuckle against your skin, and when he pushed himself up, both of you stared into each other’s eyes and burst out laughing. 

“Noah, what the fuck was that?” You playfully swatted his sweaty chest.

“What? Baby, I should be the one asking you that. That was your idea,” your boyfriend countered, giggling as his thumb wiped away the remaining tears in the corners of your eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, you were amazing,” you said, smiling, feeling his warm palm caress your cheek. 

“You were, too.” He captured your lips with his for the first time since you started this bit. “Who would’ve thought you had this in you? You little thief.”

You rolled your eyes before placing a peck on the side of his lips. 

“That was so fucking hot, though… Sir.”

###

・┈・୨୧・┈・

You didn’t really know what to expect after agreeing to this kind of relationship, but things were still normal. If anything, life seemed more peaceful. There weren’t pages of rules suddenly handed over to you or expectations to suddenly be obedient to him. Instead, it was just little things. 

When work really overwhelmed you again on Wednesday, you didn’t spend the drive home pretending to be fine. You climbed into Noah’s car, shut the door and before he could even ask, you let out a long, tired sigh. 

“Today was awful.” You told him, and he simply reached over and took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He frowned, and simply just getting that off your chest already made you feel better. 

When you got back, Noah sent you upstairs to shower and change into something comfy before dinner, and when you came back down the stairs he called you into the kitchen. 

“...Come here.” He said, holding his arms open for you. 

You crossed the room and let him pull you against his chest. He held you for a long moment, his hand gently rubbing against your back. 

“Wanna tell me about it?”

So you did, you told him all about the espresso machine breaking, and how all the oat milk had gone off, and how you had to go into the bathroom and cry for fifteen minutes. 

He had a great solution to it. He told you that after dinner he would make you both a hot chocolate, you’d go up to bed and put on a movie or TV show and cuddle. If you wanted him to use his fingers or his mouth to switch your mind off before going to sleep then he would… but an hour into the movie, he looked down at you cuddled up to his chest, and you were already softly snoring. 

On Thursday, he came to visit you at work, which was a surprise. He didn’t tell you he was planning on coming in, but you smiled the second you saw him hold the door open for an elderly lady before stepping in. 

He was dressed casually today, wearing a pair of black joggers and a navy hoodie, with a black baseball cap on his head. The moment his eyes found yours, a little smile appeared on his lips. Not enough that anyone else would notice, it was just for you. 

“Well,” Tom smirked, leaning against the counter, “You didn’t tell me Mr Millionaire was coming in- ow!” 

You elbowed him, telling him to behave. He shook his head, but grinned to himself as he wandered away to wipe down one of the tables. 

You were still serving another customer, so while you made their cappuccino, you wondered how you were supposed to act? Do you treat Noah like he’s just another customer, or like he was Noah?...

Your Noah. 

You mentally winced at yourself, don’t start thinking like that. 

But then you handed the drink over, the customer paid, and Noah stepped up to the counter next, resting his forearm against it. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” You replied, trying to stop the shy little smile spreading across your face- though he noticed it anyway. 

“So…” He began softly, and your eyes widened a little as you waited for him to continue, “You gonna ask what I want?”

You chuckled, feeling your cheeks start to heat up. 

“I already know what you want.” You smiled. 

“Good girl.” He said casually as he reached for his wallet, making you feel a little dizzy. You reached for a cup, trying not to let it show how it affected you. 

“Anything else?”

“Hm…” He pretended to think, “Well, I hear the barista’s pretty cute.” 

Your heart fluttered for a second, but you tried to shake it off. 

“So what brings you here?” You asked as you began grinding coffee beans. 

“I was nearby.” He shrugged. 

“No you weren’t.” You smirked. 

“Fine…” he sighed, “The coffee's better here than the cafe by my place.” 

“Oh yeah? Is that all?"

“Mm, and I wanted to see you.” 

Your hands stopped just for a second, before continuing. 

“I’m heading to Davis’s after this, we’ve got to sort some stuff before tour, since it’s only a couple weeks away.” 

You nodded your head. 

“You not getting him a drink?”

Noah scoffed. 

“He still owes me for lunch a couple days ago. If he wants coffee he can get one himself.” 

You smiled to yourself, and began to work the espresso machine. Noah watched you, it really fascinated him, the way you knew exactly what to do, how you remembered regulars’ orders and gave all your customers that little smile, even on days where you felt like shit. 

“You’re good at this.” Noah said, while you were staring into the distance waiting for the espresso machine. 

“Hm?” You glanced over at him. 

“You’re good at your job.” 

You smiled. 

“Thank you.”

Then, the elderly lady he’d held the door open for shuffled over beside him. 

“Oh!” She smiled at you, “Is this your boyfriend, darling?”

Your eyes widened. 

“Uh…” 

Before you could answer, Noah spoke. 

“Not yet.” He smirked, “I’ve still got a lot to prove.” 

The woman laughed. 

“Well, I’d say you’re doing rather well, dear.” 

You felt your face burn again, while Noah stood there looking rather pleased with himself. 

“I’ll take that.” He smiled

The lady picked up an extra sugar for her coffee with a cheerful smile before wandering away, and you looked back up at Noah. 

“You enjoyed that.” 

“Maybe a little.” He smirked, then you slid his coffee across the counter. 

“Here.” 

He took it with a grateful smile. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

Your stomach flipped, and you almost forgot what you were typing into the machine. 

“Noah, I’m at work!” You hissed under your breath. 

“What’s the issue?” He asked, looking entirely innocent, “You’re my baby everywhere.” 

“I’m trying to be professional.” You said, trying not to smile as you looked up at him over the counter. “Your total’s 4.60.”

“I thought you were going to give me employee discount.” He smirked. 

“You don’t work here.” 

“I could.” 

“You’d last about ten minutes.” You scoffed, making him chuckle as he tapped his card against the reader. 

The machine beeped, and a big approved appeared on the screen. Then when the tip option appeared, you didn’t think anything of it. You assumed he wouldn’t tip above the minimum, now you’re living in his house rent free, now he’s flown you to Paris and bought you countless amounts of things. 

“You don’t have to tip me, Noah.” 

“I know.” He said simply, before tapping the ‘custom amount’ option. 

You didn’t look. You turned around with a huff, and before you knew it, the machine beeped again. 

Tip: $100

“Noah!” You hissed. 

“What?” He smirked, “You look pretty when you’re working.” He said as he picked his cup back up, “Have a good day, sweetheart. See you at six.” 

And before you could even come up with an argument for that, he turned around and left. 

…

By the time Friday evening rolled around, you already noticed a change in yourself. You felt lighter than you had in months, so clearly Noah’s plan had worked, and this was helping. 

Noah had been working in the studio, though he told you he'd stop at 9 so you could both cuddle in bed and put something on the TV.

“Baby?”

You looked up from where you’d stolen his corner of the sofa, not expecting to see him for another hour.

“Hm?” You hummed. 

“Tommorow morning,” he leaned against the doorway, reminding you just how fucking tall he was, “I need you to pack an overnight bag.” 

“What for?” You asked. 

“Well, you got through the week, didn’t you? I said I had a surprise…” He smirked, “We’re staying in a hotel for the night, and make sure you pack something you’d wear to a concert.” 

“A concert?” Your curiosity peaked. 

He just smiled, and slowly shook his head. 

“I’ve already said too much.” 

“Noah-” 

“We’re leaving just after lunch. And no, I’m not telling you where we’re going… just trust me. You’re gonna love it.” 

He seemed pleased with himself as he pushed himself off the doorway and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a drink before disappearing back into the studio. You heard the door click shut, and a cheeky smile spread across your face. 

You had an idea… 

After a few minutes, Noah was back at his desk, headphones around his neck as he tapped away on his keyboard. He barely had time to look up before you wandered into the room. 

“...Hi.” 

He smiled, looking up at you. 

“Hi.” 

Without saying a word, you walked over and carefully settled yourself in his lap, looking down at him with your most innocent smile. His hands found your waist, and he looked up at you, a little taken back by your sudden confidence. 

“Well,” he smiled, “This is nice.” 

You tried not to giggle, and instead combed your fingers through his soft hair. 

“I need something.” 

“I gathered.” He leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs a little more so you were more comfortable as his thumbs brushed over your hips, “What can I do for you?”

You rested your hands on his shoulders, tilting your head sweetly as you asked,

“Can I borrow your credit card?”

His eyes widened. 

“...My credit card?”

You nodded your head, and he just looked at you for a moment, almost like he couldn’t believe what you had just said. 

“You know, we’ve been doing this for so long…” a lazy grin spread across his face, “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words come out of your mouth once.” 

You chuckled, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger.

“Well, I was thinking about going shopping tomorrow morning, before we leave. Y’know, get a new outfit for the mystery concert…”

“Of course, baby. What time should we go?”

You shook your head. 

“Nuh-uh, you’re staying here.” You smirked, poking his chest. “I wanna surprise you with something.” 

He studied your face for a second. 

“Should I be worried?”

“No.” You bit back a smile. 

“Should my bank account be worried?”

“...Maybe a little.” You smirked, and he chuckled. 

“You’ve become suspiciously comfortable spending my money all of a sudden. You argued with me for twenty minutes in Paris when I wanted you to buy those diamond earrings.” 

You shrugged, trying to look casual. 

“You told me to stop feeling guilty” 

“I did.”

“So…” You smiled sweetly. “…I thought I’d be a good girl and listen.”

“…You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” He smirked, his hands rubbing your hips.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Liar.” He smiled, but still reached into his pocket for his wallet, before sliding the black card between your fingers. “There’s one condition.”

You looked up expectantly.

“I want you to spoil yourself. There’s no limit on that card, so I don’t want you buying cheaper versions of things or knock offs. I want my girl to have the best, and nothing less.”

“Yes sir.” You giggled.

He leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

“I trust you.”

You smiled to yourself as you tucked the card safely into your pocket. If only he knew exactly where you were planning to take it… 

… 

The next morning, Noah let you take his car to go shopping. He had a few things he had to do at home, so he didn’t mind staying behind. He kissed you goodbye at the door and told you to take your time and buy whatever you wanted.

But he had no idea where you were about to step into...

You’d never been to a physical sex shop before. You’d bought a vibrator online a couple of years ago, and it had been fine- discreet packaging, no awkward eye contact. But this time, you had to go into the store.

You wanted to surprise Noah with something new, something you could both enjoy. He’d mentioned wanting to try toys with you, and the thought had been living in your head ever since.

You felt more excited than nervous when you pulled into the parking lot, but then you walked through the door...

The shop was bigger and brighter than you expected. The hot pink walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of toys in every possible shape, color, and size. Your eyes widened as you took it all in.

To your left was a whole wall of dildos- realistic ones with veins and balls, vibrating ones, thrusting ones, even double-ended ones. Some were monstrously large, others curved in ways that made you blush just by looking at them. Next to them were displays of butt plugs in every size, some made of metal, some of silicone, some with pretty sparkly jeweled bases. 

Further down the aisle were vibrators- wands, bullets, rabbits, suction toys that promised to “make you squirt”, though you scoffed at the thought of it, thinking yeah right. There were even fucking machines on display in the back corner, intimidating metal contraptions with attachments that scared you a little, making you swallow hard as you looked away.

The lingerie section was just as overwhelming- tiny lace sets that barely covered anything, latex sets that covered everything, crotchless panties, babydolls, leather harnesses, and bodysuits with cutouts.

You felt your cheeks burning hotter with every step. A couple browsed the BDSM section nearby- nipple clamps, paddles, ropes, blindfolds, and something called a “spreader bar” that made your stomach flip. Everything felt so… explicit. So shameless. You weren’t even sure just what type of toys Noah would want… or where to even start. 

You stood frozen in the middle of the vibrator aisle, clutching the strap of your handbag over your shoulder. A woman walked past you holding a box with a massive purple dildo on it and a big bottle of lube like it was no big deal. You suddenly felt so out of place... so innocent.

God, I wish Noah was here, you thought, your cheeks burning. He would’ve known exactly what to pick. He would’ve stood behind you, whispering in your ear which toys he wanted to use on you, teasing you about how wet you were getting just by looking at them.

Instead, you were alone, flustered, and trying not to stare too long at a suction toy that promised “intense clitoral orgasms.”

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to pick up the safest option to start with- a simple wand vibrator. The same kind you’d seen before in porn, and much bigger than the bullet you owned a couple years ago. You could already imagine Noah holding it against your clit while he fucked you, and your thighs pressed together in the middle of the store.

You quickly grabbed it and headed toward the register before you could overthink it any more, your face burning the entire way.

… 

By the time you finally got home, pulling onto Noah’s driveway, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy over what was sitting in the black bag in the passenger seat. Before getting out of the car, you tucked the bag into your handbag so nothing looked suspicious… then you made your way inside. 

“Noah?”

“I’m upstairs, baby!”

You slipped off your shoes, carefully hung your jacket up with his, and headed upstairs. His bedroom door was already open, and as you stepped inside, you found him kneeling on the floor with a suitcase lying open on the bed. Clothes were folded into neat piles, there were a couple pairs of trousers, t-shirts, his toiletries bag…

“You’ve started packing without me.” You frowned.

He glanced over his shoulder, smiling.

“I got bored waiting.”

“I’ve only been twenty minutes!” You chuckled. 

“Mm, it was a very long twenty minutes.”

You laughed, walking over before leaning down to kiss the top of his head. He hummed happily at the affection before pulling one of his drawers open. Inside, were neatly folded up pairs of black, grey and white Calvin Kleins. He took a couple pairs… but then something caught your eye. 

Tucked towards the back of the drawer, was black fabric, but this didn’t look like another pair of underwear. You screwed your face up, tilting your head. 

“…What’s that?”

Noah paused.

“What?”

You pointed into the drawer.

“Behind your boxers.”

He followed your finger, then smiled to himself. 

“Oh… that.”

He reached in and pulled it out, and you watched it unfold into a black ski mask. 

“Noah..?” You chuckled, in disbelief, “Why do you have a mask in your underwear drawer?”

He laughed, smiling at it fondly. 

“It’s not for robbing banks.”

“Well, that would explain a lot.” 

He shook his head, still smiling.

“It’s one of my old stage masks.”

You stared at it.

“…Your what?”

“Mhm.” He turned it over in his hands. “I used to wear it on stage a couple years ago.”

“No…” You looked between the mask and him. “…You did?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

He laughed.

“I just thought it looked cool.”

You reached out.

“…Can I?”

He handed it over without hesitation, and the first thing you noticed was how the fabric was incredibly soft. You noticed it said BAD OMENS around the neck, and you tried to imagine him wearing it on stage… 

“I don’t think I can picture it.” You said, looking up at him. 

“Wait a sec.” He grabbed his phone from the bed. “I’ll show you.”

A few taps later, he was scrolling through his band's instagram account, and after a moment, he turned the screen towards you. 

“There.”

Your eyes widened.

“…Holy shit.”

It was him… standing under bright stage lights, dressed in all black, with the mask covering his face. You could tell it was him because of the tattoos, and the black tank top. But he didn’t look like your Noah...

You looked at the photo, then back at the man kneeling comfortably on the bedroom floor in a faded old t-shirt, carefully folding up his underwear to pack in his suitcase.

“I can’t believe that’s you.”

He smiled.

“I’ve changed a bit.”

“A bit?” You looked at the photo again. “This is just crazy.” 

Noah chuckled, then you handed the mask back over to him. 

“So…” You said, drawing out the word as a smirk spread across your face. Noah immediately recognised that look, and he rasied an eyebrow.

“What?”

You tried your hardest to keep a straight face.

“Have you ever worn it in the bedroom?”

He looked a bit taken back. 

“Excuse me?”

“The mask...”

He laughed, shaking his head, almost looking a little shy.

“…No.”

“No?” You looked back down at it in his hands with disappointment. “…Wow. What a waste.”

“A waste?” He laughed, “Baby, I spent years wearing that thing on stage.”

“And apparently nowhere else.” 

He shook his head, still chuckling. Then you glanced up through your lashes.

“But would you…?”

He paused.

“…Would I what?”

“Wear it in the bedroom?”

His eyebrows lifted, and for a moment he was quiet. Then he leaned back on one hand, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Maybe…” He nodded, “It just depends.” 

“On what?”

His smile turned teasing.

“…Who’s asking.”

Heat rushed straight to your cheeks.

“You know who’s asking.”

“No I don’t.” He teased. 

“There’s only one other person in this room.”

“Hm.” He pretended to think about it. “You want me to wear this in bed?”

A smirk spread across your face.

“...Maybe.” 

He held your gaze for a moment before his expression softened.

“Huh. Good to know.” He nodded casually, before turning back to packing. Then he added, “You’ve become awfully confident this week.”

“Have I?”

“Mhm.” He smiled, “The woman who used to refuse to spend my money went shopping with my credit card this morning, and now-”

“Do you wanna know what I bought?” You grinned, interrupting him, and his face softened again. 

“I thought it was a surprise?”

You shrugged. 

“I’m awful at surprises,” you said as you sat on the edge of his bed, reaching for your bag. “Here.” 

You handed the black plastic bag over to him, and he curiously took a peek inside. 

“Oh, baby… what do we have here?” 

Noah reached into the bag and pulled out the box. When he saw the picture on the box, and realised there was a wand vibrator inside, his eyebrows rose slightly and a warm, delighted smile spread across his face.

“Wow…” he said softly, turning the box over in his hands. “You really went out and bought this?”

You nodded, cheeks warming under his gaze.

“I remembered you said that toys were something you’d like to try with me,” you said quietly. “So… I thought we could take this to the hotel tonight.”

Noah’s expression softened even more. He set the box aside and gently pulled you down into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

“You went into a sex shop by yourself,” he smirked, sounding both impressed and incredibly fond. “My sweet girl did that for me?”

He kissed your forehead, and you couldn't help but giggle.

“We’re gonna have so much fun with this tonight, princess,” he said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I can already picture how pretty you’re going to look when I use it on you.”

You smiled, feeling heat rush between your thighs- then suddenly, you pushed yourself up off of him. 

“I guess I better start packing then.” You smiled, and Noah nodded. 

“I don’t know how much you plan on taking,” Noah began, “But there’s still plenty of room in my bag.” He nodded towards the suitcase on the bed. 

“Thanks,” you said, looking down at him, then your smile became a little sheepish. “…Would you help me?”

Noah looked up at you.

“Help you pack?”

You nodded.

“If… that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.” He said soflty.

You rubbed your hands together nervously.

“Thanks. I know it probably sounds silly...”

“It doesn’t.” He shook his head, suddenly sensing the shift in your mood and body language, “Talk to me, baby. I can tell something’s bothering you.”

You let out a small sigh before sitting back down beside him on the edge of the bed.

“I always get stressed packing, it doesn’t matter if I’m going somewhere for one night or one month, I always get so overwhelmed.” You admitted. “I worry I’ve forgotten something important… then I pack extras just in case… then I convince myself I’ve packed too much…” You laughed quietly at yourself. “Then I end up unpacking everything and starting again.”

“How many times?” He asked. 

“…Usually three or four.”

He smiled sympathetically.

“I wondered why it took you so long to pack for Paris.”

“You noticed?”

“I notice everything.”

Your cheeks warmed.

“I just…” You looked down at your hands, feeling slightly nervous. “I thought…”

He waited patiently.

“I thought maybe…” You smiled shyly. “Since we’re doing this now…”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Could this be something you take care of for me?”

The smile that spread across his face was ever so gentle.

“Sweetheart.” He reached over, taking one of your hands in both of his. “Of course. I’d love to.”

You felt yourself relax before he’d even done anything.

“You would?”

“Mhm.” He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you for telling me how it makes you feel.”

Your shoulders seemed to drop all by themselves, feeling the anxiety slowly melting away. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” He said, his voice calm but still certain. Making you feel like he knows what he’s doing, everything's under control. “I’m going to ask you a few questions.”

You nodded.

“What are we doing tonight?”

“We’re going to a concert.”

“And tomorrow?”

“I think we’re coming home?”

“Yes,” he nodded with a little smile, “So that means one night away.”

You nodded again.

“That means we don’t need to prepare for every possible situation, do we, baby?”

You laughed, watching him rise to his feet. 

“…I do tend to do that.” You confessed. 

“I guessed.” He smirked, leading you into the guest room, where you kept everything you salvaged from your apartment. He reached for your suitcase from the closet- one that he bought you in Paris because the one you brought was overfilled- and he lied it down open on the bed. 

“I’ll tell you what to pack. If you think of anything else, then tell me. If you panic or can’t decide whether you need something or not, I’ll make the choice for you.” He smiled, “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, chuckling quietly, “You make it sound so simple.” 

“That’s because it is.” He smiled. “And once I’ve zipped this suitcase up,” he looked into your eyes. “…We’re done. No checking or unpacking. If you suddenly think of something when we’re in the car, then we can stop off somewhere and buy it.”

“…Really?”

He nodded, reaching for your hand.

“I promise you, sweetheart.” His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. “One forgotten toothbrush has never ruined a weekend.”

He then dropped your hand and gently tapped the suitcase.

“So it seems my first official job as your dom,” he looked at you with a playful smile, “Is packing this bag. And your first job as my submissive is to trust me when I say we’ve got everything we need.”

For a moment, you simply looked at him. Then you nodded your head.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” You smiled.

He leaned over and kissed your forehead.

“Good girl.”

Those words made your heart feel warm, and Noah smiled to himself before setting his hands on his hips. 

“Right then, let’s start packing.” He pointed towards the wardrobe, “Concert outfit first.”

You turned towards the wardrobe, searching through your clothes.

“I don’t really know what to wear.” 

“That’s okay.” He walked over beside you, “What are your options?”

You reached for a couple of hangers.

“I was thinking maybe this?” You held up a black dress. “But then I thought maybe jeans with a nice top would be better… remember that top you bought me in Paris? The leather one that laces up in the front?”

You were already reaching for the top.

“But maybe it’s too much…”

“Sweetheart.”

You stopped talking, and he gave you a gentle smile. 

“Remember your job.”

“…Trust you.” You nodded. 

“Good.” He looked at the clothes in your hands before taking the black top from you. “I think you should wear this.”

“Yeah?” 

He nodded his head. 

“This and those jeans you like, the comfy ones. I think that’d be pretty.” 

You smiled to yourself. 

“Yeah? I was thinking about that, but I don’t know if it’d be appropriate, I don’t know what kinda concert-”

“Trust me, baby. It’ll be perfect.” 

You nodded your head, and he neatly started to pack them. 

“There… now, pyjamas.” 

You nodded and reached for a comfy oversized tshirt, and a pair of shorts.

“And underwear!” You noted, before opening the drawers while Noah politely turned his attention to the suitcase instead.

“How many?” You called over your shoulder.

“How many nights are we staying?”

“One.”

“So?”

“…Two pairs?” You asked.

He smiled.

“Perfect.”

You grabbed two before pausing.

“…Or maybe three.”

He looked over.

“Why three?”

“Just in case.”

“What emergency requires a third pair of underwear?”

“You never know what might happen, Noah!” You chuckled, reaching for a third pair, then a couple pairs of socks, then handed it all over to him to pack. 

He folded everything with such care, then looked up at you again.

“Toiletries next. Toothbrush, hairbrush, perfume, deodorant… what else? Skincare?”

You collected all those things, putting them into a wash bag before handing them over. 

“Hair tools? Make-up?” He asked.

You looked at your overflowing make-up bag.

“…Do I need all of this?”

He peered inside.

“I’m not qualified to answer that.”

“I’ll bring it all, just in case.” You chuckled.

When the toiletries were packed, he zipped the little wash bag shut before placing it neatly beside your clothes, then he looked around the room.

“Anything else?”

You instinctively began scanning every shelf, every drawer, every possible thing you might have forgotten. Then your brain started doing exactly what it always did.

What about…? Did I…? Should I…?

Noah noticed your eyes darting around, and his brows furrowed. 

“Hey.” Your attention returned to him. “What are you doing?”

“…Just checking.”

“For?”

“I don’t know.” You let out a tiny laugh, before quietly confessing, “My brain’s doing the thing...”

“I can tell.” He stepped closer until he was standing in front of you. “Look at me.”

You did.

“You’ve got your outfit, your toiletries. You’ve got your phone.”

“Mhm.”

“I’ve got chargers in my bag.”

“…Okay.”

Your shoulders relaxed.

“We’re staying one night. And if we somehow discover we’ve forgotten something… then we’ll just buy it.” Then, without another word, he reached down, and zipped the suitcase closed. “There.”

You stared at it.

It was done. Normally, this was the moment you’d immediately unzip it again. Check every pocket, count your socks. Wonder if you needed another hoodie. Instead, you looked at Noah.

“That’s it?” You asked. 

He smiled.

“Yep.”

You took a slow breath in.

“…Okay.” A smile of pure relief spread across your face. “I’ve never packed for a trip without feeling stressed before.”

Noah walked over, cupped your face in both hands and kissed your forehead.

“That’s because this time, you didn’t have to do it by yourself.”

…

The drive passed far quicker than either of you expected it to, though neither of you complained. You stopped asking where he was taking you two hours in, and just decided to relax. He let you play your music as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel while the other reached over to rest on your thigh.

Every now and then you’d pass a sign, and you’d immediately start trying to guess the destination in your mind again… trying to figure out what concert was being held nearby… 

But before you knew it, a couple of hours later, Noah pulled into the underground car park of a beautiful hotel in the middle of the city. He parked up, then got out to open the passenger door. 

You climbed out and offered to take your suitcase from him, but he shook his head, insisting on taking the bags up to the entrance. 

And wow… it wasn’t as fancy as Paris, but it was still so elegant.

“This is…” You couldn’t put it into words. 

“Nice?”

“A little bit nicer than nice.” You chuckled. 

“I hoped you’d like it.” He grinned, "I've stayed here a couple times before."

Inside, the lobby was beautiful. There were marble floors that reflected the warm light from big chandeliers overhead, fresh flowers decorated almost every table, and the entire place smelled like fresh linen and a touch of something floral... probably from the flowers.

The receptionist greeted you both warmly as you checked in, before handing Noah the room key. Then, as you stepped into the elevator, you found yourself leaning lightly against his shoulder.

“Tired?”

“A little. I think it’s from the drive.”

“Being a passenger princess is hard work,” Noah teased, “We’ve got plenty of time before we leave tonight if you want a nap.”

“I might.” You said, then he kissed the top of your head.

"C'mon then."

The room was even more beautiful than the lobby. The big windows overlooked the city, and a king sized bed sat in the centre of the room, with the most comfy looking white bedding.

There was a little seating area by the window with a small table, on which sat some fresh flowers. Beside the seats was the door to the balcony. 

“…This is  amazing!”

Noah set both suitcases down at the bottom of the bed. 

“It’s alright.”

“‘Alright?’” Your eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

He shrugged innocently.

“I’ve stayed in worse.” He smirked. 

You laughed.

“You’re so spoiled, Noah.”

“Hey, I tour for a living.” He chuckled, before straightening up, “Still wanna have a nap, baby?”

You thought for a moment, before shaking your head. 

“I think I’m okay. I know it’s still pretty early… but I’m so excited, I just want to get ready now.” 

He smiled.

“That’s okay,” he nodded towards the bathroom. “Want to shower first?”

You looked towards the enormous bathroom before looking back at him, a little smirk on your lips.

“…Together?”

His lips curved into a soft smile.

“If you’d like.”

“Oh, I’d like.” You grinned. 

…

You spent most of the shower simply talking, laughing, washing each other with gentle hands. 

There wasn’t anything sexual about it, not even when he ran his soapy hands over your breasts and down to your ass. You melted into his touch, and he did the same when your fingers worked the shampoo into his hair. 

Noah stepped out first, wrapping a towel around his hips before handing one to you. After you stepped out, you stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes. Noah took another soft towel and gently started to dry your hair, then you took it from him, and made him bend down as you ruffled the towel against his hair, making it fall all over the place.

Afterwards, Noah disappeared back into the bedroom, tugging a clean black tshirt over his head while you reached into the closet for the fluffy white robe. You decided it wouldn’t make sense to get dressed yet, since there were still a few hours before you had to leave. 

So instead, you dug through your suitcase for your makeup bag and hair dryer, since you always preferred your own. Then, all of a sudden you heard the sound of a phone buzzing. You instinctively looked over to check if it was yours, but it wasn’t. It was Noah’s. 

“Huh.” He said as he looked at the screen. 

“What?”

“I just need to take this.”

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, answering it before opening the balcony door. “Hey...”

The door slid shut behind him, muting most of the conversation. You tried not to listen in, you tried to concentrate on your makeup… but you could still make out some of what was being said.

“…Yeah…”

It’s not like you were trying to listen. 

“…Tell Oli I said thanks for sorting me out tonight.”

Your hand froze halfway to your eyelashes.

Oli?

There couldn’t be that many Olis Noah knew. So you tried to ignore it. 

“…It’s not even really for me…”

Your curiosity won, and you looked towards the balcony door.

“No… it’s for someone special.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your tummy fluttering at his words. Someone special? You? A hundred different possibilities raced through your head, Oli, concert, someone special…

You slowly lowered the mascara wand onto the dressing table. There was only one Oli you could think of- and only one concert you had mentioned to Noah… and it suddenly started to make sense. 

He was taking you to see them now, because he’d be away on tour when Bring Me were playing in your city. Your heart sank a little at the thought of Noah having to leave in a couple weeks- but you couldn’t linger on it too long, as he continued talking outside.

“…Yeah, she still has no idea.”

A grin spread across your face before you could stop it. He was definitely talking about you.

“…I owe you one, man.” He paused, then let out a laugh, “Yeah… okay, I’ll see you in a bit.”

The call ended, and your eyes widened. See you… in a bit?

Your brain immediately started putting pieces together, and your stomach fluttered.

There was absolutely no way…

You hurriedly picked your mascara back up, trying to look as though you’d never stopped getting ready, and a second later, the balcony door slid open. Noah stepped back inside, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Everything alright?” he asked casually.

You looked at him through the mirror.

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” You popped the p. 

He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

“…You’re smiling.”

“I’m always smiling!”

He folded his arms, a suspicious smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“…How much of that did you hear?”

You widened your eyes innocently.

“Nothing!”

“Uh huh.” He nodded his head slowly, like he didn’t believe you. 

“I was doing my makeup.”

“Were you now?”

“I was.”

He took a slow step closer.

“So you definitely didn’t hear any of that?”

“Well, I might’ve heard… a name.”

“And?”

“And…” You smiled sweetly. “…I still have no idea where we’re going.”

That wasn’t entirely true anymore, you weren’t completely certain, but you had a feeling that Noah’s surprise was about to rock your world. (*get it? bmth reference? heh)

…

“You ready?” Noah glanced over as you slid your rings onto your fingers.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time.

Your black jeans fit you perfectly, your chunky boots peeking out just enough at the bottom. The leather lace up top you’d picked with Noah earlier sat perfectly, showing just enough skin to make you feel confident and sexy without feeling too exposed. Necklaces were layered around your neck, rings decorated almost every finger, and your hair fell exactly how you’d hoped after spending nearly an hour styling it.

You actually felt cool, and very pretty. 

Noah looked stupidly hot as always. In all black, as always. He wore his black jeans with the cut outs, that made you bite your lip wherever he turned around and wonder what’s he doing with all that ass? He wore his black boots too, with his fitted black tshirt beneath a lightweight jacket.

Then, as you stepped towards the door, he reached for his favourite sunglasses, putting them on despite the evening sun beginning to set, followed by a black baseball cap that hid most of his hair.

Once he was ready, he reached over, taking your hand.

“C’mon. The cabs waiting for us.” 

It was only a short drive to the venue from the hotel. You were going to argue, and tell Noah you could’ve just walked… but you weren’t sure just how easily recognisable he’d be to the fans if you were going to see a band he has toured with in the past. 

So instead, you sat tucked against his side in the back seat while city passed by the window. And when you looked outside, you noticed the streets were getting busier. There were groups of people dressed in black band shirts, all walking in the same direction.

Your heart began beating a little faster, and when you looked back at Noah, you could tell he was trying very hard not to smile.

The taxi finally stopped outside a huge arena, and you climbed out first, completely astounded by just how many people were lined up outside. Instead of joining the enormous queue, though, Noah gently placed a hand on the small of your back, and kept his head down as he led you away. 

“This way.”

You frowned.

“But the entrance is over there.” You pointed. 

“Not ours.”

“What do you mean?”

He simply smiled.

“C’mon. You'll see.”

He led you around the side of the building, where there were no crowds, and it seemed strangely quiet. A large metal security gate stood ahead, and before you even reached it, one of the security guards smiled.

“Hey, Noah! Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

“Hey, man.” Noah nodded, taking his sunglasses off.

The guard unclipped the barrier to let you through.

“Good to see you again.”

“You too.”

He knew the security? Shit, were you still underestimating this guy?

You followed Noah through the gate, trying not to look completely bewildered, but then another member of staff approached almost immediately.

“Oh, yhere you are.” She smiled. “Thought you’d be here a little earlier.”

“We got a little held up.” Noah explained.

“No worries.” The staff member looked towards you and smiled. “You must be Noah’s plus one.”

Your eyebrows lifted.

“…Uh…”

Before you could answer, Noah smiled and nodded his head.

“She is.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

She handed Noah two laminated passes attached to black lanyards. He slipped one over his own head before turning towards you.

“Head down for me.”

You obeyed, and he carefully lifted your hair out of the way before placing the pass around your neck. His fingers brushed lightly against the back of your neck as he adjusted it, making you shiver.

“There.”

You looked down, and were met with the bold letters reading, ALL ACCESS and your eyes widened.

“Noah?”

He just smiled.

“What?”

“I…” You looked back at the pass. “…All access?”

“Yep.”

Your heart started racing again, but he took your hand, and started to lead you as if he knew this place like the back of his hand. 

“This way.”

The two of you walked through another set of doors, then another. The corridors felt endless, people hurried past carrying guitars, lighting equipment and flight cases. Someone walked by wearing a headset, speaking into a radio, and another person nodded at Noah as they passed.

“Hey, man.”

“Hey.”

It felt busy, but rather organised. You even found yourself moving a little closer to Noah as everything rushed around you. 

“Nervous?” He asked softly, his hand coming around to rest on your hip. 

“A little.”

He smiled reassuringly.

“I’ve got you.”

You nodded.

“I know.”

He gave your hip a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m just wondering… I was gonna go find some of the guys, just to say hi, see how things are going. You can come with me if you want, I don’t mind at all, or if you’d rather we just go find our seats-“

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Not knowing how to say it without sounding ungrateful. 

“Can I be honest?”

He smiled immediately.

“I’d rather you always were.”

You laughed quietly, looking down at the floor.

“I'm just starting to feel a little anxious.”

His expression softened.

“Too many people?”

“A little. It’s just a lot… and,” You rubbed your thumb against your lanyard. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“You won’t.”

“What if I do?”

He tilted his head.

“What are you imagining?”

You let out an embarrassed laugh.

“I don’t know… saying something stupid. Tripping over. Passing out.”

He chuckled.

“I don’t think you’re going to pass out.”

“You don’t know that! I’ve never met people like this before!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“People like what?” He asked. 

“You know…” You waved your hands, trying to find the right word. “Rockstars?”

His eyebrows lifted.

“…Baby.” He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“What?”

“You live with one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re different.” You smirked.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

You thought about it for a second.

“I forget you’re famous.” You said, and he smiled to himself. “I just see… Noah.”

For a moment, he looked strangely touched by that. Then you sighed.

“And besides, I know Motionless are opening tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always had a tiny crush on Ricky.” You confessed with another gentle sigh. 

Noah slowly turned his head towards you, staying completely silent for a moment before asking,

“Ricky?”

You nodded innocently.

“The guitar player?” He asked.

“That’s the one.”

He stared at you for another second before letting out the most dramatic sigh imaginable.

“I bring you backstage, I organise this big surprise…” He placed a hand over his heart. “…And you’re thinking about another man?!”

“I’m not thinking about another man! I said I used to have a little crush.”

“Oh.” He nodded gravely. “That’s much better.”

“It was years ago! I haven’t even listened to them since… pfft, 2018?”

He looked unconvinced.

“I don’t know…”

You nudged his arm.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m devastated, baby." He frowned dramatically, pulling you in closer to him until you were chest to chest. 

The teasing eased the heaviness that had settled on your chest, and you felt yourself breathe a little easier- which Noah clearly noticed. 

“Better?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Good.” He nodded down the corridor. “C’mon, let’s go find our seats.”

You took a couple of steps before stopping.

“Actually...”

He turned back.

“What?”

“If you want to go and say hi to everyone… I don’t want you feeling like you can’t just because of me.”

“I wouldn’t.” He insisted

“I know.” You smiled. “But you’ve got friends here. People you probably haven’t seen in months or years.”

He looked at you carefully.

“Then what would you do?” He asked.

“I could just…” You shrugged. “…Wait in the seats?”

His eyebrows drew together.

“By yourself?”

“I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“I don’t know anyone here, not personally.” You laughed quietly. “And I'd feel a bit awkward just… standing beside you while everyone catches up. I’d feel like I’m in the way.”

He was quiet for a moment, then he stepped closer, frowning. 

“You’d never be in the way, baby. They’d all be happy to meet you.”

“I know.” You shook your head. 

“But?” He raised an eyebrow, and you let out a long sigh.

“I think I’d be more comfortable if you just… got to be Noah for a little bit without me. Go be a guy with the rest of the guys!”

He looked at you with a softness that almost made your heart ache.

“I appreciate you thinking about that.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “But I’m not leaving you on your own”

His thumb brushed gently across your cheek, and you shook your head. 

”You’re not.” You said, “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what are you doing?”

He smiled, then nodded as if to say okay…

“I’m taking my girl to her seat,” His hand found yours again. “Then, if you’re happy and settled with a drink and some snacks…” A playful smile tugged at his lips. “Then I’ll disappear for ten minutes, say hello to everyone, and come straight back.”

“…Ten minutes?” You smirked. 

“I promise.”

“You won’t get caught talking?”

“I probably will, but I’ll tell them someone’s waiting for me.”

Your stomach fluttered.

“Someone special?” You teased, remembering what you had heard over the phone. And he smiled without a hint of teasing this time.

“Exactly.” He kissed your forehead, “And if I see Ricky back there, I’m telling him-”

“No, Noah!” You laughed. “You’re not telling him anything!”

“What? He deserves to know that he missed his chance.” Noah grinned.

“Oh my god...” You shook your head. 

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself now. Then you let him lace his fingers through yours, and he led you further down another corridor then up some stairs, then down another corridor. You had no idea where you were being taken to, but eventually, you ran into another member of staff, who smiled the moment he recognised Noah.

“Evening, Noah.”

“Hey.”

The staff member scanned both of your passes before pushing the door open.

“Enjoy the show, man.”

“Thanks.”

You stepped through the door first, and immediately gasped.

“Wow…”

The room was beautiful. It wasn’t enormous, but there was plenty of space. In the middle of the room was a leather couch, and behind it was a table already laid out with drinks and bowls of snacks. Then you stepped over to the balcony, where there were seats that overlooked the stage. 

“Is this just for us?” You asked, and Noah nodded his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in how amazed you were at something that felt so simple to him. 

You held onto the railing as you looked over the balcony.

“No way...”

Thousands of people were slowly filling the arena below, and you couldn’t believe how close the stage was. 

“Noah,” You turned to him, your eyes wide. “This is incredible.”

“I thought you’d like it.” He said simply. 

“I thought we were gonna be somewhere at the back.”

He laughed.

“Not a chance… it's better here. Better view, better seats, more privacy.” 

You didn't know quite how to express your gratitude, besides a simple,

“Thank you.”

He shrugged almost bashfully.

“I wanted tonight to be special.”

“It already is…” You smiled softly... then you suddenly reached for your bag. “Oh! I should get a picture for Tom!” You grinned as you pulled your phone out of your bag. 

“Want me to get one of you?” He asked, and for a moment you thought about it… then you shook your head. 

“No.” You grinned, “You need to be in it too.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Me?”

You nodded your head. 

“Besides the dirty ones on your phone, I don't think we have any pictures together.”

He chuckled.

“Fair point.”

He wandered over, and crouched down a little as he stood beside you.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

You lifted your phone again, stretching your arm out.

“Smile.”

“I am smiling.”

“You don’t look like it. Smile harder.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically before softening into a genuine smile.

“There… perfect!” 

You grinned at the screen, taking a couple pictures, and just as you went to press the button a third time, you felt soft lips press against your cheek.

You put your phone back downa nd instantly tapped on the photo, and felt your cheeks start to burn. It looked quite romantic, his lips on your skin, your smile, his eyes closed, the lights from the arena behind you. 

“Send those to me.” He said as he straightened up and gently tapped your hip. “We look cute.” 

You stared at it for another second.

“Yeah…” You smiled to yourself. “We do.”

You quickly sent the picture to Noah, deciding you won’t tell Tom until after it’s over. So you slipped your phone into your bag, and when you looked back up, Noah was already watching you with that soft look on his face. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm…” You narrowed your eyes, unconvinced. 

But he just smiled. 

“I was just wondering if you’re still okay with me disappearing for a few minutes.”

You looked around your little private box again- at the sofa, the drinks and snacks, the stage… and you smiled. 

“Yeah, of course.”

“You sure?”

You nodded your head, and he gently pulled you closer. 

“If at any point you want me back, just text me.”

“I will.” You smiled. 

“And if Ricky somehow finds his way up here, tell him to back off.”

You burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, Noah.”

“I need to cover all possibilities, baby.” He smirked, then leaned down and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapping around you. “I won’t be long.”

“I know.” 

He gave you one last squeeze before stepping back. 

“I’ll make sure I’m back before the lights go down.”

“That’s okay.”

He gave you one last smile, then he turned and disappeared through the door. Then after it clicked shut behind him, you were left alone in a private box in a huge arena…

You slowly turned back towards the stage, just trying to take it all in. The crowd was growing by the minute, the seats were starting to fill out, and the sound of chattering filled the silence Noah left behind. 

You smiled to yourself.

This was your life now.

A month ago, you were worrying your landlord was going to kick you out because you were behind on rent, you’d been counting tips at the end of every shift, wondering if you’d have enough left over after bills to treat yourself to takeout. And now, you were standing in a private suite at a sold out arena, with an all access pass, all because… you weren’t really sure. Was it because he liked the way you made his coffee, was it because he felt sorry for you… or was it deeper than that?

You shook your head, trying to shake the thought away, knowing Noah wouldn’t want you to think that. So instead, you put your bag down on the couch and picked up a water bottle, and waited for Noah to come back. 

…

The first opener was amazing, you had never heard of them before, but you were blown away. God, you’d forgotten how much you loved the feeling of being at a show. 

You found yourself nodding along, not knowing any of the words, your drink forgotten on the little table beside you as Noah silently watched you more than he watched the performance.

“You like them?”

“Yeah, they’re so good!”

“I thought you would.”

Between the songs he’d tell you little things about the bands, “They’re from Australia”, “They’ve been touring nonstop”, “I wrote with their guitarist a couple of years ago”, “I’m in a group chat with the vocalist…” 

You’d look at him in awe every single time.

“You just know everyone.”

He laughed.

“It’s a small world.”

Noah teased you relentlessly while Motionless were on the stage, every time Ricky did something he’d make a comment, “Hey, did you just see what your boyfriend did?”, “Isn’t your boyfriend such a great singer?”, “Fuck, I wish I was as talented as your boyfriend.” 

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow, or groaning dramatically. But he loved seeing you react, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

Then eventually, the giant backdrop changed, and it’s like the stage grew bigger. Crew members walked out with more equipment and started putting things into places. You leaned over the balcony railing, watching it all happen. 

Then, after a little while, the lights all went out again. The suspense made you giddy as you squeezed Noah’s hand. 

“Oh my god!!” You yelped, then music began playing, and after another moment… “There they are!” 

Noah looked over at you just in time to see the biggest grin spread across your face.

“Happy?”

“So happy!” You beamed. 

The entire show was just unbelievable, you didn’t have a better word for it. The lights and the visuals, the crowd singing along to every word. Even from your private balcony, you could feel the energy radiating off the audience below.

You were even dancing and singing along, which made Noah smirk. 

“I didn’t know you knew all the words.”

“I know enough.” You laughed. 

Then, a few songs later you found yourself leaning on the railing, watching the mosh pit.

“You know, I actually saw them once before.” You said as you sat back in your seat.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, a few years ago.” You said, then hesitated before adding, “With my ex.” 

Noah’s expression stayed calm.

“How was it?”

You snorted.

“Well, it was going really well…” He already knew from your tone that there was a story coming. “…Until he decided jumping into the mosh pit was a brilliant idea. He got into a fight, and came back with a bloody nose because apparently somebody shoved him.”

Noah stared at you for a moment before shaking his head.

“…Fucking idiot.”

You burst out laughing.

“I know! That’s what I said.” 

Noah just shook his head. 

“You go to a concert where everyone’s pushing each other… then gets angry because someone pushed him?”

“That’s just the kind of person he was.” You sighed. “I remember spending most of the night worrying about him.”

Noah looked at you for a second, then he gently brushed his fingers against yours.

“I’m glad tonight’s different.”

“So am I.” You smiled. 

Another song came to an end, and you caught Noah glancing towards the side of the stage, then checking the time on his phone. 

“…Hey.”

“Hm?” You looked up. 

“I’ve just got to disappear for a minute.”

You frowned.

“Now?”

“I’ll be right back.” He smiled reassuringly. “I promise.”

You looked at him curiously.

“…Is everything okay?” You asked. 

He just nodded your head and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Yeah. Enjoy this one.”

Then without another word, he left again. You frowned when the door shut behind him. That was weird… 

Your mind immediately betrayed you. Was it because I mentioned my ex? Did I upset him? You shook your head. Don’t be ridiculous.

Still, you couldn’t help but glance towards the door every few moments. He’s taking his time, you thought. Another song finished and he still hadn’t returned. 

It’s probably nothing. He might’ve just got stopped by a fan, if anyone recognised him. But your attention was brought back to the stage again when Oli stepped up to the microphone. 

“Alright…” The crowd quietened. “We’ve got a little surprise tonight.”

The crowd wooo’d so loud before he even finished his sentence, and you grinned, wondering what it could be. 

Then your face dropped as a figure dressed entirely in black stepped out.

Your heart stopped, and the crowd screamed so loudly, but you couldn’t hear a thing. 

Because Noah just walked out on to the stage with a microphone in his hand. 

You stumbled as you rose to your feet to get a better view. Oli walked over with a huge grin, throwing an arm around Noah’s shoulders before saying something into the microphone that was lost beneath twenty thousand people screaming.

He hadn’t left because he was upset. He hadn’t left because of your ex. He’d left because he was about to walk onto one of the biggest stages in the country, and didn’t even think to let you know?!

You couldn’t stop smiling. He looked so fucking good out there, and he completely blew you away with his singing and screaming… he was really good. 

You didn’t feel like you were in your own body while he was performing, it all felt like a dream, until the door to the suite opened a couple of minutes later.

Noah stepped inside, slightly out of breath, a little flushed from the performance, his hair messier than before. He barely had time to smile.

“Hey, baby-”

You rushed across the room in three quick steps, and your hands caught either side of his face. Then you kissed him, hard. Full of adrenaline and excitement- you could still hear the crowd as he laughed softly into the kiss, one arm wrapping around your waist to steady you.

When you finally pulled back, you were almost breathless. 

“That.” You pointed a finger at him. “…Was the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t act humble, Noah.” You narrowed your eyes on him, “You walked out in front of thousands of people… and you looked like…” You searched for the words before simply giving up. “…You looked like a rock star!”

He couldn’t help but smirk.

“I am one.”

“Oh, shut up.” You shook your head, making him laugh. “Here I was thinking you left because I upset you-”

His expression softened immediately, and interrupted you. 

“What?”

You paused for a moment, chewing on your lip. 

“When you left, I thought maybe it was because I mentioned my ex… I thought I annoyed you.”

His face fell.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His hands found yours. “Not even for a second.”

“I know that now.”

…

There were only a few songs left, and somehow each one felt better than the last. And now, every time Oli wandered near the side of the stage, you’d grin to yourself.

“You were just down there…” You whispered to Noah halfway through another song.

“I know.”

“It’s still so crazy to me.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Noah smiled, patting your thigh. But you didn’t think you ever would. 

When the final song ended, confetti cannons exploded over the crowd, and for one last time, the crowd went crazy. You found yourself clapping until your hands hurt, and as the lights slowly came back up, you turned to Noah.

“This might’ve actually been one of the best nights of my life.”

His smile softened as he stood up, offering his hand to you. 

“I’m really glad.”

“Thank you.” You said after a moment, and he squeezed your fingers.

“I wanted to do something special… and after the week you’ve had, I hope it was worth it.”

“It really was.”

The two of you lingered there for another minute, watching as thousands of people slowly began filing towards the exits.

Your ears were ringing, and your heart was racing, yet you felt like you could run a marathon with the adrenaline that was coursing through you. 

“So,” Noah smiled as he picked up his jacket. “You ready to head back to the hotel?”

You nodded your head. 

“But I’m way too awake to go to bed anytime soon.”

He laughed.

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us are sleeping just yet.”

Still buzzing with adrenaline, you walked hand in hand, following him back through the quiet corridors, the echoes of the concert still ringing in your ears.

You left through the back, the same way you came in, and there was already a driver waiting to take you back to the hotel. And even in the back seat of the car, you were still buzzing, and you couldn’t stop talking. 

“I still can’t believe you did that.”

Noah smiled to himself from beside you in the back of the cab.

“I know.”

“No, seriously.” You laughed. “I thought you were annoyed, then suddenly you’re on the stage!?”

He chuckled.

“Was I good though?”

You laughed, resting your head against the seat.

“Yes! And oh my god, you were so hot.”

He looked sideways at you over the top of his sunglasses that he slipped back on before leaving. 

“Still thinking about that?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

His smile widened.

“I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that before.”

“Can you blame me? I didn’t know you sounded like… that!”

He frowned playfully.

“…That?”

“You were screaming and growling! And doing those… those monster noises!”

He burst out laughing.

“‘Monster noises?’”

“You know what I mean!”

“Yeah, I do those.” He he chuckled. 

“I had no idea!”

He couldn’t stop smiling now.

“Well, you’ve never asked.”

“I didn’t know there was anything to ask! I always thought you’d like to keep me and your work separate…”

His face softened. 

“Why’d you think that?”

You shrugged, not really wanting to talk about that right now, after having such fun tonight. So you decided to change the subject. 

“I was wondering, when you go on tour…”

“Yes?”

“Can I…” You hesitated. “…Can I come and see you at a show?”

“You just did.” He smirked. 

“I know, but…” You smiled shyly. “I wanna see one of your own shows. I know I’ll be working most of the time, but if there’s ever one near enough-”

He reached across the seat and took your hand.

“Sweetheart.”

“Hm?”

“It’s already sorted.”

“…What?” You asked. 

“You’re on the guest list, there’s a couple dates where you’re not working, so I sorted it out.”

“You already planned it?”

“I haven’t booked plane tickets or anything yet because I didn’t know if you’d want to come out and see me… but yeah.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest.

“So if you want to come” He squeezed your hand. “There’ll be tickets waiting for you.”

You stared at him.

“You really thought about all of that?”

“Of course I did.” He said like it was obvious, like there had never been another option. “I want you there.”

You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt.

“I’d love that.” You said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

…

By the time you reached the hotel, neither of you had really come down from the adrenaline. You were still giggling in the elevator, replaying moments from the show, teasing Noah about how you’ve never heard so many women squeal the way they did when he appeared on the stage. He simply rolled his eyes, and teased you back just as much, making comments about Ricky again. 

Them the elevator doors opened, and you wandered down the corridor towards your room. You waited just outside the door as Noah patted his pockets down for the key card, before holding it open for you. 

And the moment the door shut behind you, you kicked your boots off with a groan.

“Why do my feet hurt so much if we were sitting for most of it?”

“Was it worth it, though?” Noah smirked. 

“So worth it.”

Then you glanced down at yourself. Your leather top was sticking to your skin, the necklaces were starting to feel claustrophobic and you rubbed at your eye, completely forgetting about your makeup. 

“I feel disgusting.” You groaned. 

Noah chuckled as he tossed his cap onto the dresser.

“You’re still beautiful to me, baby.” 

You side eyed him as if to say yeah right. 

“I think I need a shower.”

“Then take a shower.”

You looked up.

“You’d be okay with that?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” He walked over, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Go, take your time, sweetheart.”

“You don’t mind waiting?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to be.” He smiled, kissing your forehead.

You smiled back at him.

“…Okay. And when I get out,” a little cheeky smirk spread across your face, “Do you think we can test out that new toy?”

Noah smirked, sitting back on the bed. 

“Of course we can.” He spread his legs out slightly. 

You nodded and reached for your little wash bag before disappearing into the bathroom, already looking forward to washing away the sweat and makeup from the evening.

As the door clicked shut behind you, Noah let out a quiet breath and smiled to himself. Tonight had gone exactly the way he’d hoped… but you didn’t know he had one last surprise in store. 

You showered in peace, not rushing yourself as you washed off the sweat and makeup, until you finally felt clean. 

You stepped out and reached for a towel, wrapping it around yourself before turning to the sink to do your skincare. You could picture Noah on the bed already, laying back in just a pair of grey sweats or black shorts, scrolling on his phone or switching through the channels on the TV. 

You were smiling to yourself, thinking about how nice the evening had been, then you pushed open the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom. 

Then you immediately stopped in your tracks. 

Holy shit.

In front of you, on the bed, Noah was lying there completely naked. Well, completely naked besides the black ski mask that was pulled over his face, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible. 

His tattoos were on full display across his body, standing out against the white bedding. One arm was tucked casually behind his head, looking so relaxed and confident… while his other hand held the wand vibrator you had bought this morning. He was slowly dragging the rounded head of the toy along the length of his thick, hard cock that rested against his lower stomach. 

Fuck, he looked so powerful, and almost a little intimidating…

The moment he noticed you in the doorway, his eyes met yours through the mask, and a slow, predatory smirk tugged at his mouth. You felt your breath catch, you couldn’t even think straight as heat flooded between your thighs. 

At first, Noah didn't move. He just kept slowly dragging the vibrating head along his cock, and down to his balls, watching you with dark, hungry eyes. 

“Hi, princess,” he said, his voice low and a little teasing. “Took you long enough.”

He gave his cock another slow stroke with the toy, letting you watch it drag over every inch of him. The way he was was touching himself so casually while wearing nothing but the mask made your stomach flutter, and you swallowed hard, trying so hard to stop your head from spinning. 

Noah tilted his head a little, his eyes dragging over your body.

“Drop the towel, sweet girl,” he said softly, but there was no mistaking the command in his tone. “I want to see you.”

You stood there for a second, your heart racing, your brain turning to mush- and Noah’s smirk just grew.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now, baby. You bought this toy for me… so I could use it on you. Come here and get on the bed.”

He spread his legs a little wider, making the view even more obscene- his hard cock, the buzzing vibrator, the mask, the tattoos, all of it on full display as he waited for you.

“I’ve been thinking about this since you handed it to me earlier, I can’t believe you went out and got this without me even having to ask…” He said, before a low groan slipped his lips. “Now get on this bed and let me show you how I reward my good girl.”

continue...

・┈・୨୧・┈・

You can tell that Noah has simply been itching for your tattoo to heal. Sometimes, you catch him staring at your tattoo, lost in his thoughts. He always blushes so sweetly and gets flustered when you ask him what he’s thinking about. Sometimes, you catch his fingers hovering just above the skin of your back, and you can tell that he’s itching to reach out and touch it. 

Noah never fails to mention just how pretty your tattoo looks, and how perfectly the ink accentuates your body. He seems to have developed a little bit of a fixation with it.

Life has been fairly hectic recently. Your tattoo has long healed—yet Noah hasn’t had the time to do much more than simply wistfully trace his finger along it while you shower before bed. Still though, despite how busy the two of you are—you can sense the desperation that’s bubbling beneath Noah’s skin. 

When you get home after a long workday, you’re exhausted—and you’re feeling a little bit needy, too. 

Once you walk through your front door, you immediately spot your sweet puppy sitting on the couch, watching something on the TV. He barely manages to squeak out a quiet ‘hi’ before you’re crawling atop his lap, straddling him. You cup his face between your hands, gently rubbing your thumb along his jaw.

“Hi, sweet puppy.”

He looks so happy now that you’re here. He’s got that wide, adorable smile on his face. If he had a tail, it would be wagging, enthusiastically thumping against the couch. Your sweet boy is always so genuinely delighted when you come home.

“How was your day?” You ask.

“It was good. I hung out with Jolly, then we got lunch together afterwards.”

Your hand slowly begins to slide up Noah’s leg, lightly squeezing his thigh. He lets out a shaky little inhale, but other than that, he pays no mind to your touch. 

“How was your day?” He asks.

“I’m so tired. Work was exhausting. I wish I could just shut my brain off.”

“We can watch a movie or something together, if you’d like. Or we can go to bed and take a nap. I could run you a hot bath? It might help, especially if you’re feeling a little bit tense. I’ve already made dinner, so you don’t have to worry about cooking tonight. I could also—”

Noah goes silent as he watches you pull your necklace out from beneath your shirt. His eyes follow your movements, as a beam of light reflects off of the key that hangs from the chain. You dangle the chain in front of him, tantalisingly swinging it. Noah’s breath catches as he watches you unclasp the necklace, and remove the key from the chain. 

He’s silent, unmoving. He swallows, waiting for your next movements. 

You reach down, cupping his bulge through his sweats. You feel for the firm plastic that you know is there. Noah lets out a soft whine. It feels so objectifying. 

“Has my sweet puppy been behaving himself?”

Noah nods. He’s at a loss for words.

“I’m just so exhausted after the week I’ve had. I think I just need a good, thourough fucking. I need to get thoroughly railed ‘till I can’t think. Do you think you could do that for me, pup?”

Your sweet puppy looks like his brain has just short-circuited.

“Puppy?”

Noah swallows. “I—I—yeah I can do that. I can do that for you.”

You stand up, clicking your tongue. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs then.” 

Once you’re in the bedroom, you waste no time before getting undressed. Noah does the same. His movements are hurried and almost clumsy. It’s adorable just how desperate he is. 

You sit down on the bed, your back propped against the headboard. You motion for Noah to join you. He does so eagerly, straddling your lap.

He’s such a vision like this, sitting on your lap, naked, his cock locked in his tiny cage. It looks so adorably small compared to the rest of him. When you meet his eyes, you can tell that he’s very nearly completely gone into that subby headspace of his. You can tell that there’s not a single coherent thought behind those big brown eyes of his. 

“Your pretty little cock is so adorable,” you say, as you trace your finger along his locked cock. You tap your nail against the plastic, just to provoke him a little bit and get him more riled up. 

Noah’s breath catches in his chest as you retrieve the key. You take your time as you unlock him, prolonging the process and making it as slow as possible. Noah always makes the sweetest noises when you get him all teased and desperate.

You cup his balls with one hand, while you slide the cage off of his cock. You then carefully take away the ring that sits behind his balls. Noah makes a pitiful little noise as you accidentally jostle his cock. Your sweet boy hasn’t felt any stimulation there in a while, and every slight touch feels so overwhelming. 

You watch as his cock begins to harden. It’s so adorable to see just how worked up he is.

“Aww, you’re hard already? It’s cute just how desperate you are.”

Noah whines in response. The tips of his ears are tinged pink in embarssment—yet he can’t hide just how turned on he is. 

You retrieve the bottle of lube and drizzle the lube directly onto Noah’s cock. He flinches, whimpering about how cold it is.

“Oh you poor thing. I’m sure my pussy will make your cock feel all nice and warm, hmm?”

He whines so sweetly in response.

You spread the lube along his cock. He gasps at your touch, bucking into your hand. It’s not purposely disobedient—the poor thing genuinely can’t help it. It’s been so long since you’ve last touched him—every small touch feels like too much.

You get down onto all fours, positioning yourself. You tuck a pillow beneath your hips. You already know that it won’t be long before you lose the strength to hold yourself up. Something tells you that your sweet puppy will be particularly worked up tonight. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as his finger traces the outline of your back tattoo. 

His touch makes you shiver—it feels like a promise of what’s yet to come. 

You reach your hand behind you, wrapping it around Noah’s cock. Your sweet puppy knows that he’s not allowed to touch his cock, regardless of the circumstances—and that includes moments like these. He’s forced to wait until you guide his cock into your pussy. It’s a little rule that you’ve established between the two of you. You’re well aware of the fact that Noah loves how objectified it makes him feel—almost as if he’s just a toy that’s being used solely for your pleasure. 

You take your time, squeezing him teasingly, before guiding his cock inside you. You let out a soft moan as he presses inside. It always feels so good. You feel so thoroughly filled. Despite all of your teasing remarks about how small his cock is when it’s locked up, your sweet puppy does have quite a thick cock. He always fills you so deliciously, stretching you so nicely.

Usually, you prepare yourself a little bit before taking his cock—but not today. Today, you want to feel the stretch. 

Noah pauses once he’s fully inside you, his hips flush with yours. You let out a soft noise at the stretch. It almost feels like too much—but it also feels so good. 

“There we go,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss against your back. 

He gives you some time to adjust, which you’re very grateful for. He can’t help but trace his finger along the outline of your back tattoo while he waits. You shiver at the touch. 

“You can move now.”

Noah slowly pulls out until just the tip remains inside. He leans down, bracketing your body with his. You can feel his warm chest against your back, and you can feel how his heart races. Your puppy is just as worked up as you are. He presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, before stilling. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he whispers. “Gonna ruin that sweet pussy of yours until you can’t even think. Fill you and breed you ‘till you’re whining in pleasure.”

You can’t help the soft whimper that escapes you at his words. This is exactly what you need. 

You know that the roles have reversed a little bit, but you can’t find it yourself to care. It feels nice to be taken care of like this, to be whispered sweet threats of being ruined ‘till you can’t even think. 

Noah slams his cock back into your pussy, pulling a startled gasp from you.

He’s merciless as he begins to fuck you, his front pressed against your back as he slams his hips against you. 

You’ve asked him to service you, and he’s going to damn make sure that he does his job and makes you feel good. His desperation to be good for you fuels his thrusts. He pushes himself to fuck into you as brutally as possible. He’s been given the priviledge of fucking you—and he’ll make sure that you won’t regret it. 

It’s not long before you’re struggling to hold yourself up. Your arms buckle beneath you, and your chest falls onto the mattress. It all just feels so good. Noah doesn’t falter. His hands grab onto your hips, and he pulls you back to meet his thrusts. The new angle makes it feel like he’s fucking you even deeper than before. 

He’s merciless as he fucks into you, not holding back. His cock ruthlessly brushes against that one spot inside of you, making you feel so good. You can feel your body melting into the mattress, overwhelmed by the constant pleasure that you’re feeling. 

You’re letting out a litany of soft noises that you can’t even will yourself to hold back. It all just feels so good. You can’t help how the noises effortlessly spill from your lips. You can feel your mind going blank, as you allow yourself to succumb to the pleasure. 

It’s not long before you’re tightening around Noah, as your orgasm washes over you. You’re left gasping, while Noah keeps fucking you through it.

“There we go. Doing so well for me,” he coos.

The overstimulation should be too much, but instead, it feels so delicious. Noah keeps fucking you through it, and his pace doesn’t even falter. He thrusts into you with a renewed vigour, determined to bring you to orgasm once more.

He won’t show you any mercy until he pulls another orgasm out of you. 

“Need—need more,” you whisper.

Noah slows for a moment. “What do you need?”

“Need you to go harder. Faster,” you plead. 

Noah presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, before picking up his pace. 

The gears are already turning in his head as he begins to scheme. This is the first time that he’s been allowed to fuck you since you got your back tattoo done. He needs to time this so carefully. He’s not allowed to touch himself—so he has to pull out at the exact moment that he cums, and try not to ruin his orgasm. 

He thrusts into you with a renewed vigour. Soon, you’re clenching around him, as Noah works you through your second orgasm. 

You gasp as Noah suddenly pulls out. You feel a warmth against your back, as his cum splatters against your skin. 

“Noah!”

You turn your head to look at him. His head is tilted downwards, his hair falling onto his face—but his eyes are firmly fixated on the cum that drips down your tattooed back. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to regain his breathing. 

He’s got a sheepish little smile on his face, an adorable little smirk as his eyes meet yours.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he grins.

“Naughty pup,” you mumble, shaking your head in exasperation.

You collapse back against the bed, exhausted. 

As bratty as Noah is, he knows how to apologise. He’s gone for a moment, before he returns with a damp washcloth. The bed creaks beneath his weight as he sits down beside you. He cleans off the remains of his cum from your back. He presses soft kisses to your shoulder, murmuring a quiet apology—though you know damn well that he doesn’t regret a single thing. 

“You’re such a little shit,” you say, still a little bit breathless. ”You’re lucky I didn’t make you lick up your mess. You finally got it out of your system?”

Noah gives you a cheeky little smile. He looks thoroughly exhausted. “Mhm.”

He gets up once more, disposing of the washcloth. When he comes back, he kneels on the floor beside your bed, his face just inches away from yours. It seems that he’s taking great pleasure in seeing just how thoroughly ruined you look. He tilts your head up, bringing you in for a soft kiss. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you all nice and clean. My apology.”

Noah sticks to his word, taking such sweet care of you as he steps into the shower with you. He spoils you with affection, thoroughly washing your hair and body. He begins with massaging your arms, and then moves onto working the knots out of your back. You resist the urge to roll your eyes when you feel him tracing the outline of your back tattoo with his finger. All is forgiven though, once he moves onto washing your hair. The pads of his fingers scratch against your scalp—and oh, it feels so good. He dries you off afterwards, helping you get dressed—and he takes care of your hair, too.

As Noah busies himself with going through his own hair routine, you take that time to clean his cock cage. You also clean and disinfect a slightly smaller cage. It’s almost the exact same—a light blue, plastic cage—just slightly smaller. Noah hasn’t worn this one before—but you’re going to ask him if he’d like to.

When Noah joins you in the bedroom, you hold both cages out for him.

“I was thinking that we could try out a smaller size. It’s completely up to you. There’s absolutely no pressure.”

Noah’s finger traces over the smaller cage. His breath hitches.

“Have you—have you had this one for a while?”

“I bought it a few weeks ago. I thought that you might be interested in it.”

Noah swallows, then nods. “I think—I think I’d like to wear the smaller one.”

“You sure, sweetheart?”

He nods.

”Pull your shorts down for me?”

Noah does as you ask. He’s still soft, but his cock is beginning to slightly harden again. You’re so careful as you touch him, trying not to jostle him too much. You slip the little plastic ring over his shaft, and gently position it until it rests behind his balls.

“Does that feel okay, pup?”

“Yeah.” He sounds almost a little bit breathless. It’s clear that he’s not entirely unaffected by the idea.

You then attach the other part of the cage, sliding it over his cock. You hold the cage in place. 

“Does that feel comfortable? Can I lock it?”

The feeling of the cage is both familiar, and strange. Noah can tell that the cage is noticeably small and tighter—and it makes him feel so dizzy.

“Y—yes. Please.”

You don’t comment on how sweet and small his tone of voice is. 

You attach the lock to the cage, clicking it shut. Noah shivers once you let go of his caged cock.

“There we go. Good boy,” you coo. “Your little cock looks so pretty.”

Noah blushes so sweetly. It feels a little bit humiliating—and yet he loves everything about it. He can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips.

You giggle. “I swear to god, I’m never unlocking you ever again.”

Noah only gives you a sly little smile in response. That’s hardly a punishment, in his eyes.

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you hug your knees to your chest, your head resting on your arm as you watch Noah gather his things. clothes haphazardly shed around the room, wallet, keys, his phone on your dresser,.... he balances on one leg as he tugs his pants back over his boxers.

you try—unsuccessfully—to push down the flare of attraction you feel in your core as his shirtless form bends to grab his tank. his shoulders are broader than they used to be, his recent gains evidenced in the way muscle shifts under his skin as he moves. it’s unfair, really—how good he looks. almost as unfair as the way he’d peeled that same tank top off earlier, effortless and practiced in that way fuckboys somehow perfect.

he can’t help but smirk when he notices you looking. “you’re staring,” Noah says lowly, tugging his zipper up.

“can you blame me for enjoying the view?”

he grins and leans in to graze his lips across your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin a little more than playfully as he murmurs into your ear, “you always make this part harder than it needs to be.”

“then why go? you could always stay…”

Noah sighs, letting his chin rest on your shoulder. if you didn’t know him better, you’d almost think he regrets it, but this conversation always ends the same way, the two of you stuck in the same argument on repeat every time he has to leave. “you know why.”

and you do. this was supposed to be casual. no strings and no feelings.

except he just uses it as a shield. an excuse not to have to deal with the aftermath. 

you wrap your arms tighter around yourself, like you can hold in whatever is cracking open inside your chest. 

you told yourself you could handle it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

he never stayed. he never held you until you fell asleep. never cleaned you up or gave you soft words of affirmation. there was only ever the sound of the door closing behind him.

it never felt like you were more than a readily available way to blow off steam, a distraction. it was never about being intimate but about needing a body. you’re not special. you’re only one of countless girls Noah could choose from, and they’d all fall into bed with him without a second thought. 

Noah doesn’t so much as spare a glance back over his shoulder before he’s out the door, and that about sums up the state of your relationship. or lack thereof. 

a single, solitary tear falls down your cheek, and you stay, unmoving, until you can finally muster the energy to force yourself up and into the bathroom.

when you look at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognize the sad, broken person staring back at you. the circles under your eyes seem to have gotten darker. your hair is a disheveled mess, and your lips look bitten raw from where Noah attacked them earlier.

you turn on the water and step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade down your body.

it doesn’t make you feel any less dirty.

you could scrub yourself raw, and you would still be able to feel his touch on your skin. that’s not even the worst part. the worst part is knowing you’ll keep coming back for more. 

you hate yourself for it. hate the way your knees go weak whenever he looks at you with those doe eyes of his. how he could ruin you without even trying. most of all, you hate the way your body betrays you so easily, how even a single touch from him sets every nerve alight.

he’s like a drug of the most dangerous kind, your addiction, and you’re hooked.

you hate that you’d let him use you, and you have, over and over again. hate that you still want him so badly, that a part of you will always crave him no matter how badly you get hurt. and you hate the fact that the memory of him is going to linger on your skin for days, and the only thing you can do is cling to the sheets and pillows and the traces of his scent left behind.

you hate that even as he hurts you, you still love him.

if Noah called tomorrow, you’d answer. if he showed up at your door, you’d let him in without hesitation.

you love him too much to learn otherwise.

you check the time. 1 am.

you’re dialing Jesse’s number before you can think too hard about it. he is, after all, the one person who’s consistently had your back through everything, even if it’s complicated by his years-long friendship with Noah. Jesse had never minced words about his disapproval of how Noah treated you and the fact that it made him an ass, not when they were living together as roommates and not now when he’s since moved out, still always quick to defend your honor and forever on your side, his best friend be damned.

what you haven’t realized is that Jesse’s fierce protectiveness stems not just from platonic concern, but from feelings he harbors for you that you’re somehow shockingly dense about.

it only takes three rings before you hear a sleepy “hello?” on the other end of the line, and you suddenly feel guilty for waking him, but as he clears his throat, you can already picture him pushing himself up to lean against the headboard, his curls a mess. it’s too late now.

even just the thought of what you’d called to get off your chest has you sniffling again, tears trailing down your cheeks. “Noah just left,” you manage to get out amid sniffles.

the fatigue in Jesse’s voice vanishes in an instant, replaced by worry. he knows you all too well, and he knows how this goes. you didn’t call just to tell him that. you’re upset, and he’s the only person you could think to call. the only one who gets it.

he sighs softly on the other end, and you hear the sounds of him getting up and shuffling around, throwing on a sweatshirt.

you imagine him pacing in the hall, a moment’s notice from being on his way to you as he asks quietly, “are you okay? do you need me to come over?”

“I’m a mess,” you say, like that should be reason enough for him not to.

Jesse scoffs quietly. “don’t be an idiot. I’m coming over.”

the line goes quiet for a few seconds, and you know he’s slipping on his sneakers and grabbing his truck keys. “I’ll be there in twenty. hang tight, alright? I’m on my way.”

when he lets himself in, you’re wrestling with the sheets, stripping your bed frustratedly. Jesse appears in the doorway, and you just say sadly, “they smell like him,” before he’s bundling them in his arms and into the laundry.

the two of you remake your bed in silence with a fresh set of bedding from your linen closet. a familiar dance.

Jesse doesn’t say anything about the good set of underwear you’d worn specifically for Noah shed on the floor, or the faint red marks across your throat, like someone had been nipping at your skin.

“I hate his cologne,” you say bitterly, collapsing on your back into the mattress. 

what you hate even more is how it makes you want to take a bite out of Noah every time. how it somehow gets into everything. sheets, pillows, even rubs off on your clothes. 

Jesse snorts at that, making you smile faintly. 

the two of you lie side by side, his shoulder brushing yours as he stares up at your bedroom ceiling. he turns his head to study you for a moment. 

it hurts him to see you this way. to see you treated this way.

“you love that overpriced bullshit cologne of his.”

you huff softly at that, not quite landing a sharp jab to his ribs with your elbow. Jesse snickers. he catches your arm and intertwines his fingers with yours, giving your hand a squeeze.

he looks back over at you, and when you meet his eyes, the expression on his face is so unbearably soft that it makes your chest ache. he brings your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles that makes you shiver.

“I hate it… I hate that I love it. that I love him,” you admit quietly.

“yeah,” Jesse murmurs sadly. “I know.”

he’s probably the only one in the world who really does. 

he’s been your friend and your confidante. he knows everything. every detail, every late-night confession, every time you’ve sworn you were done, only to fall right back into the same cycle. he knows how deeply you crave a man who has only ever known how to use you.

for Jesse, your suffering at the hands of his so-called best friend has been something of a personal torment, forced to watch Noah break your heart while being silently in love with you for years. like being stuck in a time loop where he’s doomed to witness an inevitable car crash he can’t derail. over and over again. 

“he’s never going to love me back.”

you’re past the point of tears now. it’s a numb sort of melancholy, dwelling on this gaping hole in your chest, but it demands to be felt.

you feel Jesse’s hand leave yours as he rolls over onto his side, pulling you gently against him and into the crook of his neck.

you’ve spent many a night clinging to him like this, crying yourself to sleep on his chest. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arm wrapping around your back comfortingly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I deserve better.”

“damn right you do.”

“why couldn’t I love someone else? anyone else? someone easy… someone who’d love me back with their whole heart… someone like you.” you frown.

you hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud.

Jesse swallows hard around the lump in his throat and closes his eyes. hearing you say that hurts, because he’d give you the damn world if you let him, cherish you in a way no one else has, but you remain stuck on someone who fails to recognize your worth. and the heart wants what it wants.

none of it matters if you don’t choose him.

“it won’t always be like this.” he doesn’t say what he’s thinking. that you’re never going to get over Noah if you keep falling back into bed with him. “you should get some sleep.”

“stay the night?”

he knows he shouldn’t, but when it’s you asking, he’d find a way to lasso the moon.

“yeah,” Jesse agrees. “...what is it anyway?” 

“what’s what?” you mumble, already drifting.

he pulls the blanket over your shoulders. “...why him? why do you keep going back? what is it about him?”

his voice isn’t angry, just tired, like he’s worn down from watching you break over and over.

“would you believe me if I said his massive di—”

Jesse groans and immediately clamps a hand over your mouth, shooting you a ‘be serious’ look.

besides, live with someone long enough and chances are you’ve seen them naked. he isn’t exactly packing anything that you can’t get elsewhere.

“you’re ridiculous. and I’ve seen his dick. does it have magical properties? try again.”

“fuck if I know. we want what we can’t have, right?”

isn’t that the truth? Jesse’s heart constricts painfully.

“you’re worth so much more than crumbs, y’know,” he murmurs quietly, voice full of emotion. you deserve the whole damn bakery.

knowing he’s right isn’t the problem. try telling that to the traitor in your chest.

“do you talk about me?”

“what do you mean?” Jesse asks cautiously, though he suspects he knows. 

“you and Noah… does my name ever come up?”

there’s a flicker of guilt on Jesse’s face as he shifts uncomfortably. “yeah… sometimes,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. 

“do I want to know? …nevermind.” you drop it, not giving him a chance to elaborate. you know you’re putting him in a tough position. “I know I’m not the only one.”

Jesse winces, and his silence says more than enough. you know you have no right to be jealous, but you also know what Noah gets up to on the road. Jesse’s been witness to the girls that come and go from the tour bus.

he’s never said as much, but you know you’re responsible for the rift between the two of them. 

you never asked Jesse to pick a side, but it was clear-cut to him from the beginning. he’d been the one picking up the pieces after Noah shattered them enough times to know. 

“we’re not exclusive. he doesn’t owe me anything.”

“but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when he’s with someone else,” Jesse finishes.

“sometimes I thought about sleeping with someone else… to make him jealous,” you admit sheepishly. a hollow laugh escapes you. “but how can you make someone who doesn’t care, jealous?”

Jesse knows that, for the most part, Noah’s indifference is a hard-maintained act.

Noah Sebastian is a difficult man to get close to. he can have his dick inside you and still find a way to keep you at arm’s length. distance is something he demands because the thought of actually letting someone in terrifies him, and Noah Sebastian doesn’t do vulnerability.

he’s been burned one too many times for that. 

now he’s the one who does the burning. because if he ruins things first, if he keeps people craving him instead of needing them, then he never has to risk being the one left behind. even if he did care for you the way you wanted him to, Noah would rather let you think he felt nothing than admit you had the power to hurt him.

and maybe, after all the times he’d used and discarded you, only to come back and fall into your bed when you know he most likely hadn’t spent a single night since alone... maybe he didn’t deserve the grace you kept giving him.

“then don’t do it for him.” Jesse’s fingers brush your hair. “do it for you. if it’s gonna help you move on… then let someone show you how good it feels to be wanted without all the heartache.

“let it be me,” he murmurs softly. “let me show you how you’re supposed to be treated. not tonight,” Jesse breathes. not when your bed is scarcely cold and not with you in such a fragile emotional state. “let me take you out to dinner Saturday. wear that pretty sundress you wore to that barbecue Folio hosted last year. and I promise, I’ll clean up nice.”

you give him a small, tired smile at the memory. pale yellow with delicate straps and a corseted waist. the same one Noah had hitched around your hips shortly after his fingers had discovered that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“you always clean up nice, Jesse.”

Jesse must notice the flicker of nostalgia because he adds quietly, “we won’t bring him up. not once. it’ll just be us. now get some rest, I’ll be here in the morning.”

words you never hear Noah say….

your eyelids start to droop, and you nod, nuzzling your face into his chest. the rhythmic thumping of his heart against your cheek lulls you to sleep.

you never realized just how much you needed this, how much it hurt for the simple comfort of a warm body close to yours to be ripped away after being so intimate moments prior, but Jesse holds you like he knows exactly what you need.

you suppose after being the one you’ve called after countless late-night trysts, he does. 

Jesse’s taken to sleeping on your bedroom floor on nights like this, grabbing a pillow and the blanket off the back of your couch so he could be close if you needed him.

you hope he has no plans of leaving this bed tonight.

“you’re not gonna sneak out once I fall asleep, are you?” you mumble, fingers curling into his shirt. “please. I don’t want the bed to feel empty again.”

“okay,” Jesse caves almost immediately. “if you want me to stay, I will. sleep.”

you drift off with his hand stroking your hair.

when you open the door for your dinner date, Jesse is standing there with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. 

he’s always been a little old-fashioned like that. maybe it’s leftover from his Southern upbringing, but he’s always been big on gestures and fluent in thoughtfulness.

he’s wearing a dark gray button-up with a few buttons casually undone, the sleeves rolled up and exposing a bit of his tattooed forearms, complete with dark wash jeans and black boots. 

he looks damn good, the bastard.

his own eyes rake over you appreciatively, taking in the way that your yellow sundress clings to your body just right, the hem brushing just above your knees. Jesse looks long enough for you to know he’s appreciative before consciously dragging his gaze back up to meet your eyes. he’s nothing if not a gentleman.

you feel better than you did when you’d worn it at that barbecue. like a princess. 

“those for me?” you ask.

Jesse’s smile spreads as he holds out the bouquet towards you.

it’s a lovely arrangement of wildflowers—daffodils and daisies and the small cornflower blue petals of a flower you don’t recognize—arranged in a bouquet that’s as bright and cheerful as your dress.

the dress isn’t the only thing that makes you feel like a princess. so does Jesse’s treatment of you.

“thought you might like them more than roses.”

your chest tightens. you’d mentioned once, ages ago, that roses were overrated and unjustifiably expensive; not that you’d expected him to remember. he’d apparently never forgotten. “they’re beautiful, Jess. thank you.”

“don’t hold a candle to you, though.”

heat rushes to your cheeks. 

“sweet talker.”

“it’s the truth, sweetheart,” he says simply.

you busy yourself with the flowers before he can see how easily he’s gotten to you, carrying them into the kitchen and setting them in a vase, enough to keep them fresh until you can properly care for them.

you grab your bag from the hook by the door, then step into the balmy night air with Jesse at your back. 

“so,” you ask. Jesse walks ahead and opens the passenger door for you, “where are we going?”

he flashes a vague, somewhat secretive smile in response. “it’s a surprise. you’ll see.” 

he lets you get settled inside and then shuts the door, rounding the truck and getting into the driver’s seat. it isn’t until he pulls into the parking lot that you realize exactly why he’d been so secretive.

“if he wanted to, he would.” 

you marvel at the sign as you pass underneath it, the new restaurant whose reservations have been booked solid since its grand opening. 

Jesse’s hand finds the small of your back as he ushers you inside ahead of him.

“Jesse,” you say, a little incredulous. “I mentioned this place forever ago.”

he just shrugs. “I remembered.” 

it’s altogether too much for a first date, let alone dinner. tinder dates in the past had bitched about less. 

the place is oozing with class. in a dimly lit corner, someone plays the piano while your server leads the two of you to a booth near the back, partially obscured by a partition. 

Jesse lets you slide into the booth first, then slips in beside you instead of taking the seat across from you.

the two of you are close enough that your knees brush his. he grins sheepishly. “I hope this is okay.”

“I think it’s sweet,” you tell him, and he visibly relaxes, resting his arm along the back of the seat. “you know, you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble—”

“don’t even start,” Jesse warns. “I hope you’re hungry.”

you nod. “I’ve been wanting to try their—”

“—carbonara, I know,” Jesse finishes your sentence. “it’s your favorite.” at your surprised look, he again shrugs a shoulder like it’s nothing. “remembered that, too.” 

you think you catch the faint hint of a flush on his cheeks.

“you really pay attention, don’t you?”

he gives a soft hum in response. “to the things that matter.”

butterflies stir to life in your stomach as you find yourself seeing him in a new light.

“I take it you’re ready to order?” he asks. “would you like to share a bottle of wine?” 

you nod, noting how attentive he is when it comes to ordering. something about the effortless way he’s making sure you’re taken care of without ever making it feel like you can’t take care of yourself is panty-droppingly attractive. 

“red or white, sweetheart?” Jesse tilts the drink menu towards the both of you, leaning in close enough that his breath flutters against your ear.

“hm?” you blush, lost in your thoughts.

he chuckles softly, amused by your reaction, and repeats himself. “red or white, darlin’?”

his fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh ever so slightly, sending a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re sat by the ac vents.

“I trust your pick.”

“white then.” he places the order for a particular bottle, then turns his attention back to you. “I’m glad you agreed to this. even if it took me years to get you here,” he admits. “you’re worth every second of the wait.”

“Jesse…” you breathe.

“you don’t have to say anything.” his hand settles over top of yours. “just let yourself enjoy tonight.”

you interlace your fingers with his and squeeze his hand. “I really am glad I came.”

your server pours from the bottle of white for the both of you, and you clink your glasses together.

the wine is light, crisp, perfectly paired with the meal ahead.

“did I make the right choice?” Jesse observes you as you take your sip.

“perfect,” you nod. 

despite the introduction of such an intimate atmosphere, there never feels like there’s any pressure to be any way other than how you already are with each other. 

conversation is easy, comfortable, flowing without you having to force it. like it always has been. it’s like muscle memory, you don’t even have to think about it anymore. there’s comfort even in the silence. 

you talk like you’re sat on your bedroom floor, talking from the late hours of the night into early morning about anything and everything. 

Jesse’s an expert at getting you to come out of your shell, gentle in all the ways Noah is intense.

he makes you laugh, makes you feel seen and special, makes you forget everything outside this moment. that is, until your phone sounds.

a single text notification lights up the screen as a plate of steaming pasta is placed in front of you.

no other name but his would make your stomach drop like that and make you lose all appetite for your dinner.

Jesse sees it too. his jaw tightens, just slightly, so subtle you might’ve missed it if you weren’t looking, but he doesn’t comment. just takes a slow sip of wine, allowing you your space to do as you see fit. 

Noah wouldn’t be texting you this late unless he was trying to use you for a last-minute hook-up. it’s as if he has some sort of radar or sixth sense for when you’re spending time with someone else.

your fingers hover over the phone, the screen still glowing with Noah’s name.

Jesse doesn’t say it out loud, but you hear it anyway. 

you deserve better than someone who only wants you when he knows he can’t have you.

<Noah> Miss that mouth of yours. You home?

your stomach twists. part arousal, part shame. 

how easy it would be to slip back into that familiar sin. one text reply and he’d be at your door, his hands everywhere, his voice murmuring all the wrong things in all the right ways.

but then you’re reminded of Jesse beside you. who took you to a restaurant you’d been wanting to try because you’d mentioned it once. 

Jesse, who doesn’t so much as steal a glance at your phone screen, doesn’t ask what it says, just waits patiently for you to decide.

you take a deep breath… and silence your phone.

your shaky smile gains confidence as you grin at Jesse and take a bite of your food... and moan softly without meaning to.

“that good, huh?”

“mhm… this is amazing,” you say, licking a bit of sauce from your lip.

Jesse’s eyes darken slightly. “yeah,” he murmurs. “it is.”

you get the feeling he’s not talking about the food so much as he’s talking about you.

your cheeks redden. 

“try some.” you avert your gaze back to your plate and lift a forkful to his lips without thinking. Jesse leans in to take a bite, not breaking eye contact the entire time, which only serves to make you more flustered. 

there’s a tension between you growing taut, and there’s proof in the way your heartbeat stumbles.

you end up getting a slice of cheesecake to share because he’d seen how your eyes lingered on the dessert menu a few seconds too long, and if the way you take turns alternating forkfuls is any indication of how sickeningly coupley you are in this moment, you are bound to come down with a toothache. 

it all just feels so… domestic that your heart pangs wildly because this… this is what you deserve.

it’s something you’ve always wanted, even if you haven’t always believed you could have it. you know you can’t, not with Noah.

but with Jesse, who would kiss away your tears instead of being the one to cause them…

who’d bring you flowers just because. who’d learn your favorite song and memorize how you take your coffee. who’d send you pictures of the little things that remind him of you. the sunset. a line in a book. 

the same Jesse who’d leave you love notes to find around the house. a post-it on the bathroom mirror. a slip of paper in the bagged lunch you’d taken to work. (that he made you.)

what would life be with someone who doesn’t leave you feeling empty afterward, but instead more fulfilled? 

Jesse’s eyes are so soft, so full of hope. 

“we don’t have to rush anything,” he says quietly. 

he always was good at reading you. or maybe it’s just that no one’s ever listened closely enough for you to know what it feels like to be seen.

“I’ve waited this long. I can wait for you to be ready.” 

you don’t know what’s wrong with you; you feel as if you’re broken.

because that’s the thing. Jesse is the type of guy who should get the girl, the one you bring home to Mom. he’s everything good and gentle and kind, and here you keep pining after a man who’s made it clear in no uncertain terms that the only thing he’s capable of giving you is his… cock?

you shake your head. “we’re leaving this restaurant. you’re going to drive me home and walk me to my door, and I’m going to invite you in, and you’re going to say yes.”

if Jesse is surprised by your newfound resolve, he doesn’t show it. he regards you with open amusement, smirking. “yes, ma’am.”

by the time you’ve slipped into the jacket he’s holding open for you, he’s already tipped generously and settled the bill before you can so much as reach for your wallet.

“I told you I’d take you out to dinner. that means it’s my treat,” he says. 

and when he’s stood outside your door, he waits for you to make the first move. 

he waits until your hands find his belt loops to tug him closer, and then he comes easily (like he always would for you), his hands instinctively finding their place on your hips.

his eyes search yours, as if needing to make sure you want this before it goes any further. 

the decision is yours—he’s made that abundantly clear. he’ll respect it. unlike Dylan from the dating apps, Jesse is under no illusion that paying for dinner equates to buying access to your body.

“are you gonna kiss me now?” you ask.

“do you want me to?” 

he knows he said he’d be there if it helped you move on. knows he’d take whatever piece of you you were ready to give.

still, a part of him can’t shake the nagging fear that he’s only a placeholder. a distraction meant to dull the ache Noah left behind. that maybe you don’t want him, not really, just to fill the void of the man who hurt you.

maybe this is too fast. maybe he should slow you down. maybe he should protect his own heart better than this… but the romantic in him screams that the risk is worth it.

“I want it to mean something,” Jesse whispers. “not just… because you’re hurting.” his hands slide up your back.

“you said you’d show me how it feels…”

he swallows hard, exhaling shakily through his nose. “yeah,” he breathes. “I did.”

your fingers tighten in his shirt. “well, I want to be something to someone for a change. I want to feel something real, even if it’s just for one night.”

Jesse rests his forehead against yours, your noses brushing. “if I had it my way, it wouldn’t be just one night. not with me.”

before you can find the words to answer, he’s kissing you. tentatively at first, giving you every chance to pull away, but when you don’t—when, if anything, you press closer, seeking him out—he deepens the kiss. 

his hands slide into your hair, cradling your face as his lips move over yours like he’s waited years for this (because he has).

he kisses you like you’re something to be cherished. like you’re some sort of precious masterpiece he can’t believe he gets to touch.

he swallows every sound you make like he could bottle it up for later.

god, you’d forgotten what it feels like to be truly, fully wanted. 

you’ve never been Noah’s first choice. merely an option. 

“tell you what’s going to happen,” Jesse murmurs. “we’re going to go inside, and I’m going to lay you on your bed. I’m going to take my time with you, make you come as many times as I want until I’m satisfied, without ever using my cock. in fact, I’m not going to come tonight.”

“but—” you’re about to protest with a pout when he presses his index finger to your mouth, silencing you. 

Jesse’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles kindly. “I’m going to take care of you and not the other way around.”

his chest is against your back now as he leans in closer to brush his lips over your neck, his voice low in your ear. “then, tomorrow morning, I’m going to make you breakfast.”

at this point, you’re fumbling uselessly with your house key, shaky hands struggling to jam it into the keyhole as you mentally curse the only thing that stands between you and the night ahead. 

you eventually give up and shove the key into Jesse’s hand.

he just chuckles, clearly amused by your eagerness. after he unlocks the door (with much more ease than you I might add), he scoops you up in one smooth motion, carrying you through the threshold and kicking the door shut behind him.  

the route to your bedroom is as familiar as his own, and he’s still laughing softly as he deposits you gently on the bed, bracing his forearms beside your head. 

he takes in the sight of you beneath him like a man starved.

his hands roam your body like he’s trying to map every dip and curve, his touch reverent.

he kisses you until you’re panting for breath, his mouth continuing on to your jaw and your neck before gently sucking on your pulse point.  

“god, I need you out of this dress,” he tells you, hands sliding down to the zipper.

“I thought you liked me in this dress,” you tease.

Jesse chuckles, his lips curving into an easy half-smile.  

he draws the zipper of your dress down slowly, his fingers grazing along your skin. 

“oh I do,” he murmurs, tugging the fabric gently over your head. “but I think I’d like you even better out of it. so…”

“so…” 

“what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? my fingers?” Jesse strums his index and his middle fingers over your clit as you gasp and push into his touch. “or my mouth?” his tongue proceeds to suck your arousal clean from the pads of his fingers. 

“do I really have to choose?”

“you’re right. you’ll get both. but you get to choose which you want first. so?…”

your hip hitches around his waist in answer, your heel bearing down on his back until Jesse is eye level with your glistening pussy. 

“mouth it is.” 

brown eyes lift to meet yours as if consciously drinking in the way you come undone in the wake of his hot, open mouth working its way up your inner thigh. his kisses inch closer while all the while falling short of where you truly want them, leaving you frustrated as you let out a soft whine of protest. 

the next time, his breath fans against your soaked underwear. the way he nuzzles his cheek just shy of your quivering cunt is proof that he hears you, even if he delights in making you squirm a little, the brush of his facial hair against your most sensitive skin only serving to stoke the fire in your core.

“you didn’t say you were going to be a tease,” you huff. 

“I told you I was going to take my time.” Jesse’s eyes sparkle. “tell me his version of foreplay wasn’t just two fingers scissoring you open and a little bit of lube.”

“actually—” 

Jesse has no interest in letting you finish that thought. his tongue renders you speechless as it drags through your folds in one long, drawn out lick that has your back arching off the bed and toward his mouth. 

evidently, he’s had enough of pretending he’s not just as eager to taste you as you are for him to. 

your hand finds its way into his hair, impatiently tugging his curls like it’ll urge him on, even though you’ve come to understand that he isn’t one to be rushed. this man wants to savor you.  

still, his hum rumbles through your core like a reward, even as he shows no signs of his patience wearing thin. 

each lick is slow, painfully so. deliberate circles of his tongue over your clit before dipping lower to taste you properly. 

his arms encircle your waist, keeping your hips secure no matter how much they want to shift in search of more. 

rest assured, he will not disappoint. 

it knocks the wind out of you when his lips well and truly seal around your clit. “ohh, Jess.” your head falls back against the mattress as he alternates sucking and lapping. 

you’re already trembling beneath him, fingers tightening in his hair as pleasure builds fast and hot in your belly with each flick of his tongue. 

“when’s the last time someone made you come without asking for anything in return, huh? just the simple pleasure of making you feel good,” Jesse croons. “you know, when I think of him getting to taste you, I get so fucking jealous. he doesn’t know what he has. you’re wasted on him.”

it’s as if the thought fuels him as he doubles his efforts, surging forward kissing and licking like a man on a mission to erase every memory of Noah from your body entirely. he won’t be content until his name is the only one on the tip of your tongue. 

“shit, Jesse, I’m gonna come,” you pant out breathily. 

“give it to me, baby. go ahead and come on my tongue. I’ve earned it, haven’t I?”

your body tenses, your thighs clamping around his head as the pleasure peaks. “that’s it,” his voice muffles against your core. 

Jesse milks your orgasm for all it’s worth, making sure to help you ride it out with soft laps of his tongue and gentle suction until every last shudder fades from your limbs.

when he finally lifts his mouth, he wipes the back of his hand across his lips and smirks, proud of himself.

“if you were mine, I’d spend every day of my life trying to be worthy,” Jesse murmurs, kissing your hip, then slipping a finger inside you.

“Jesse…” your breath hitches. the intrusion comes so soon after your orgasm. you’re still so sensitive, and he knows it, which is why he starts slow with just that one finger, curling it just right. 

that’s all it takes for you to become putty in his hands. 

putty whose face Jesse watches for every reaction like he’s memorizing what makes you feel good.  

“please.” it’s not long before you’re begging for more. 

he’s quick to add a second, stretching you gently as he leans down to kiss your stomach, his lips warm against your skin.

“I’d give you anything you want.”

Jesse’s fingers make a come-hither motion. slow, deep thrusts that curl upwards toward that sweet spot inside you and make your hips rock unconsciously into his hand.  

all the while, his kisses trail higher—up your stomach, your ribs, before he’s burying his face between your breasts, your heart hammering in your chest—and capturing one of your nipples between his lips and biting softly.

you gasp, your fingers in his hair peeling back his head to look up at you. 

“what about your cock?” you manage cheekily. 

his sharp exhale turns into a groan, but he shakes his head. “nice try, but no, honey, not tonight.”

your lip juts out in a pout, but Jesse wipes the sulk right off your face when he puts his mouth back on you whilst his fingers pump in and out of your pussy. 

your face heats at the realization that you’re already wound up again, sensitive and aching. 

“tonight is about you,” Jesse reiterates. “not taking anything for myself. not asking for anything in return.”

that’s exactly what hasn’t worked in the past. tonight needs to be different. he needs to be different. this isn’t about instant gratification.

this is about showing you how you deserve to be treated. 

“Jesse,” you pant, “you’re going to make me come again…”

“good,” he says matter-of-factly. if anything, the knowledge only makes him work harder for it…

your cunt clenches around his fingers and keeps them there, spasming around the length of them buried to the knuckle. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing that blissed-out look on your face,” Jesse murmurs. “feels good, doesn’t it? letting yourself be taken care of for once?”

your moan is an affirmative as your second orgasm washes over you, hot and sweet. 

“come sit on my face,” Jesse pipes up. you haven’t even fully come down before he’s patting the bed and settling on his back beside you.

your cheeks burn. “but—” 

“I won’t be satisfied until you do,” he cuts you off. “not until you use me to make yourself feel good, so you might as well give me what I want and come sit on my face.”

you know Jesse well enough to know he means it, and anyway, it’s not like it’s not an untempting offer. 

you tentatively move to position yourself on all fours, but not before Jesse’s fingers dig into your hips, dragging you backwards on your knees until you’re straddling his shoulders. 

then Jesse pulls you down over top of him until your heat is right above his waiting mouth.

“there you go. that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

his hands squeeze the curve of your ass as he pulls you down onto him, and god, the first swipe of his tongue has your knees buckling, your hands finding his thighs as you double over.

the scratch of his facial hair is like nothing you’ve ever felt between your thighs. 

every sensation already feels like too much.

the pleasant burn of his scruff as he nuzzles you open. 

the press of his nose nudging against your clit and his tongue following in its place. parting your folds, dipping into your entrance, lapping enthusiastically at your clit…

you can’t help the way you gush, your arousal surely drenching his face as he feasts from behind. 

the new angle has you whimpering, unable to still your restless hips. Jesse flattens his tongue for you, and you ride it, chasing the wet glide of it along your clit. you don’t try to hide your moans as you edge closer and closer to your third orgasm of the night, his saliva dripping from your folds. you grow more and more uninhibited, shameless in your grinding against his mouth, and Jesse increasingly pleased when it becomes evident that you struggle to hold yourself up as you ride out the height of your orgasm against his tongue, your knees going weak. 

what a sight he makes. his scruff drenched, his eyes sparkling as he licks his lips, and you completely oblivious as you now paw at the bulge in his pants from your seat on his chest. 

“Jesse,” you whine, “what if I just sucked you off?” 

his cock twitches against your cheek where it nuzzles against him. 

Jesse chuckles, cupping your chin with his palm and turning your head to look back at him. “I meant what I said.”

“just a taste?”

“as hard as it is to say no to you, I’ve got to.” 

“not too hard, apparently,” you huff. “doesn’t it hurt?”

his hard-on strains prominently against his jeans. seeing him so affected just from giving you pleasure makes your mouth water and stirs you to hunger. 

“a cold shower will take care of it,” he tells you. “thank you for your concern.” he presses a kiss to the skin of your back, “give me five minutes and I’ll be all yours again,” then disentangles himself from you before rolling off the bed and heading for the bathroom, and he assumes that’s the end of it. 

the sound of running water follows moments later. as does a muffled curse from behind the closed door, probably because the cold water is doing its job. 

a part of you feels guilty. here he is, being all noble, and all you can think about is how badly you want him inside you.

not guilty enough, apparently. or at any rate not enough to keep from propping yourself against the doorway, fully bare as you enjoy the view before you.

Jesse’s back is mostly to you, water from the showerhead sluicing down the lines of his chest. it’s the body of a touring musician, someone who’s spent years lugging amps and guitars, with just enough muscle to show for it. a body shaped by life on the road rather than in the gym. 

there’s an irresistible softness to him that is your catnip. plushness that yields underneath your hands. 

you bite your lip, imagining what it would be like to have full rein to touch him like this. to hug your arms around his middle, to leave little love bites where only you would see. to trace the lines of his tattoos. 

he hasn’t noticed you yet, too busy tilting his head under the icy spray, doing his damndest to try and cool off.

your hands come up to his shoulders as you rub circles with your loofah over his back.

“you’re playing dirty,” he murmurs, not turning around yet. 

your hands slide down his chest, your body pressing flush against his back. your hardened nipples prod him until he can no longer ignore their presence. 

“I can’t take a shower?” you ask, faking innocence.

“is that what you’re doing?” 

Jesse’s erection stirs to life more insistent than before, and you find yourself squeezing your thighs together at the sight of it, delightfully fat with a slight curve you can almost feel hit all the right spots already. a cock made for the taking. 

you reach around him and turn the water hotter, the beginnings of steam fogging up the glass.

he finally turns to look at you, water dripping from his lashes. his eyes drop to where water beads on your own skin before snapping back up to your face with visible effort.

you play coy even as the length of him twitches, drawing attention to the prominent vein along his shaft. 

“do me?” you press the loofah into his hand. 

he stares at the loofah like it’s a loaded weapon. “minx,” he finally murmurs, not unaffectionately. “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

he lathers the loofah with your body wash before running it over your shoulders, down your arms, faltering when he comes to your breasts. 

no answer. 

he drags the loofah lower with painstaking slowness, settling just under your belly button. 

“can you get my back?” you reply instead. 

Jesse breathes a sigh of relief, only to discover the supposed act of mercy is anything but. 

your plans are far more nefarious than he could’ve suspected… because the moment you turn your back to him, you back your hips into his. 

his curved cock slots perfectly between your soaped up thighs, the loofah slipping from his hand and dropping to the floor.

it isn’t hard to imagine how good even the smallest bit of friction must feel for him. the plush of your thighs alone seems like a cruel test of his self-control after being so hard, for so long, with lord knows how much precum leaked in his boxers. 

you’re overcome by the overwhelming need to thank him for his patience.

Jesse’s breath hitches, his hips rutting against you based on pure instinct. he braces one hand on the tile in front of you, the other on your hip. “fuck.” his forehead drops to your shoulder. “you’re not making this easy.”

his hips continue to move almost imperceptibly, committing small acts of rebellion against his better judgment. 

Jesse exhales shakily in your ear. 

“why waste a perfectly hard cock?” you kiss the underside of his chin. “when there’s perfectly needy pussy that’s begging for it?”

Jesse’s eyes squeeze shut. 

for a little while, it’s bliss. 

his cock head repeatedly nudging into your clit. the weight of it against you a reminder of just how easy it would be for him to sink inside and satisfy you. 

but he stays true to his word, showing the discipline you wish he was not capable of in this moment as his hand takes over. he plays your clit like he plays his six-string, pushing you over the edge with a dexterity that comes naturally to him given his line of work. 

he supports your weight when you all but collapse, allowing you to go boneless in his arms as he holds you upright with an arm encircling your waist and his other hand curled inside your thigh. you melt against his shoulder, protesting when his cock slips free of your folds, twitching in air. 

you can’t help but feel like a dog being taken away from its favourite toy when it wasn’t done playing. “Jesse…” you whine. 

“we should slow down.” his chest is heaving. his cock is flushed and swollen, precum beading at the tip. 

“it doesn’t make you him.” 

you know it’s what he’s thinking. hell, you can practically see the gears in his head turning as you search his face, his mind running a thousand miles a minute. 

he’s harder on himself than you would ever be.

“I can’t do the whole pretending this doesn’t mean anything in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” you say.

“I know. it’s just—if I let this happen tonight,” he adds, lower, “I don’t get to pretend I’m not already in deep. and I don’t think you’re there with me right now.”

and that’s the thing about Jesse… he cares about you in ways Noah never did. enough to stop when he wants to keep going. enough to put your feelings ahead of his own.

“I want to get there,” you say quietly. “maybe I’m not where you are yet, but I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t see what’s right in front of me.”

“you say things like that, and I can’t deny you anything,” Jesse sighs. “which is exactly why I need you to go to bed,” he adds, “before I change my mind.” 

a sinking feeling takes root in your stomach when you wake to an empty bed. 

white hot panic rolls over you in waves of déjà vu. it’s all too familiar. too reminiscent of countless mornings spent alone.

did he leave?

the faint clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen says otherwise. 

you pursue the sound in your bare feet, following the hallway, and there he is. 

Jesse, in all his morning glory, naked except for a pair of boxer briefs. his hair sticks up in all directions like he’d rolled straight out of bed and into the kitchen, spatula in his hand as he flips pancakes. a pair of round glasses sits crooked on his nose, atop the ever-present lines and shadows under his eyes. 

they persist no matter how many hours he’s gotten. 

he might not be considered conventionally attractive, but you’ve always thought him handsome. here in your kitchen the morning after, he’s absolutely devastating.

he glances up and immediately brightens when he sees you. the ball of nerves that had drawn taut in your stomach unravels so quickly it’s almost as if it was never there.

“hey,” he greets, “you weren’t supposed to be up yet.”

I needed to make sure you were still here. the words stay lodged somewhere behind your ribs. “I smelled food,” you say instead. 

“you’re supposed to be in bed. you’re ruining the whole plan,” Jesse chastises playfully. “go. back to bed. I’ll bring it to you.” 

he redirects you with his hands on your shoulders, and you trot obediently back the way you came, the happiness bubbling full to overflowing with every step. 

the bed is rumpled, still warm when you slip back under the covers. for once, you don’t feel the need to bundle the sheets and purge the remnants of your night. instead you breathe in the scent of Jesse left on the pillow on his side of the bed and let it soothe you.

true to his word, he had stayed. your heart could burst.

from the kitchen, you can hear him moving. soft clinks of plates and utensils, the fridge door opening and closing,... footsteps that make their way to the bedroom.

“okay, don’t laugh.” Jesse proudly presents you with a tray that holds a glass of orange juice, pancakes with goofy little fruit faces, and a small vase with a handful of the wildflowers from your date the night prior.

“why would I? this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you say. “I want to wake up to this every Sunday.”

“that can be arranged.”

“I’m serious.”

“so am I.”

“okay,” you whisper, trying to mask the way the words make your stomach swoop like the sudden drop of a rollercoaster.

“okay.”

you eat side by side for a few moments in silence, Jesse stealing pieces of fruit from your plate. he has his own, but apparently he only deigned to give yours the special treatment. 

“hey!” you protest weakly as he snatches yet another blueberry.

“payment for my labor,” he teases.

your phone buzzes—the groupchat checking in—and when you open your messages, Noah’s text sits just below the other text thread at the top as if it’s mocking you. 

your thumb hovers over his contact before finally settling on the block button. Jesse has made it impossible to ignore what you’ve been settling for, and you owe it to yourself, and to Jesse, to stop accepting less than you deserve.

no more settling.

you don’t even realize Jesse had asked you a question. “hey,” he murmurs, attuned to you as always, “you okay?”

you look down at the phone in your hand, then at the breakfast he so kindly made you, then back at him.

“yeah,” you whisper, “I’m okay,” and you mean it. 

“where’d you go just now?”

you unlock your phone and hand it over.

it takes a moment for Jesse to register that you’ve blocked his (ex?) best friend’s number.

“you didn’t have to do that for me,” he says quietly.

“I didn’t.” you pull the blanket over your shoulders tighter around yourself. “I did it for me.”

you think about all the nights you cried yourself to sleep, only to wake up the following morning alone. all the unanswered texts. the careful pretending that you were okay with casual when every piece of evidence that he didn’t care about you like you cared about him hollowed you out a little more.

you did it for that version of yourself.

“I’m proud of you,” Jesse tells you.

if you’re being honest, so are you.

it was about time you were the one closing the door and the one walking out, not the one being walked out on. the keeper of your own peace and the champion of your heart.

you hum thoughtfully. “where do we go from here?”

“I dunno. lazy Sunday… I was thinking the couch… unless you have plans.”

you laugh and tuck yourself into Jesse’s side. 

“you are my plans.”

The only thing better than one needy puppy pawing at you for attention (when you had the time to give it, of course) was two of them. You had been trailed for the better part of twenty minutes, back and forth throughout the house as you finished chores; you kept promising both men you’d be done soon, so they had held off on whining, but you could tell they were getting antsy.

It was certainly sweet, though. Stolen kisses and nuzzles, hands that squeezed without much rhyme or reason. Both of your boys wanted your affection, but you’d also let them derail you from cleaning for the past three nights — and something had to give. It wasn’t going to be your house, though. Besides, as you repeatedly told them, you only needed until seven, and then they’d have all of your undivided attention.

By six, Noah was whining, and Folio was always quick to follow — he blamed it on pack instincts, but you were pretty sure that Folio just took Noah’s soft little noises as permission to make his own. You huffed, placed your hands on your hips, and did your best to give them both stern expressions. “Go play in the living room,” you ordered, resisting the urge to melt when they both pouted in sync.

Having them act like that at the same time was always a challenge, but Folio seemed to take you more seriously than Noah did. He ducked a little, pressed a kiss under your chin, and then ushered Noah off toward the couch. “I’ll put your collar on you,” he promised the taller man. 

It was always a toss-up if Noah would let him put the collar on (he often insisted it was you that did it), but apparently Noah was amicable that evening. He huffed on his way out of the room but offered some vague affirmation you barely caught. You just hoped they’d play nice until you were finished; you only had an hour left, after all, and then you’d promised both yourself and your puppies that you’d be free.

When you finished up and walked into the living room at six-fifty, the sight that greeted you was only a little surprising: Noah and Folio tangled up on the couch, kissing and slowly rocking their hips together. Noah did have his collar on, Folio’s finger hooked through the d-ring on the front and simply resting there, and they passed breaths and soft, pleased noises back and forth between their lips.

For all of the assertiveness Noah had on stage, and the confidence and self-assuredness he'd started carrying himself with even off it, he tended to melt when Folio slipped into that headspace where he was closer to wolf than human. It was typical for Noah to top in most situations; however, once Folio allowed himself to indulge in his feral streak, Noah was quick to roll onto his back.

You stood for a moment and watched their leisurely, unhurried movements. Normally, they’d be rutting so desperately that they fell off the couch — or damn near did — but they seemed content to settle into something slow this evening.

Once you spoke, though, their gazes snapped to you. “Maybe I should go back to cleaning and leave you two to play,” you teased, well aware that you wouldn’t be able to walk away now, especially not with the heat that greeted you.

Noah whimpered and whined, pulling out that pleading expression of his that always made you fold. Folio echoed the noises, a bit quieter, and sat up, untangling their limbs. “You could play with us instead, baby,” he encouraged, baring his teeth in a hungry grin.

How could you say no to that? How could you walk away when Folio and Noah stood up, scrambled to press close — one on each side, nuzzling into your hair and neck and shoulders? While Folio was the only one who could really indulge in your scent, Noah acted like he had a similar experience. In fact, he’d even spend several minutes rubbing his face against your bare skin like he was scenting you when he felt particularly affectionate.

“Good puppies,” you cooed, scratching at Folio’s scalp and under Noah’s chin. “Let’s go to the bedroom, yeah? Get you both undressed for me?” The gentle, sweet encouragement was all it took for them to both start tugging you to the room in question, Folio making sweet, mindless promises that they'd make you feel good the whole time.

It seemed that when Noah was collared and mute, Folio took it upon himself to speak for both of them. He wasn’t usually nearly as talkative as he was in those scenes and encounters, and you loved hearing both the lilt to his words and the boyish giggles sprinkled throughout them. 

The three of you stepped into the bedroom and both of your boys didn’t hesitate to strip down. Noah seemed to waver and hesitate once he was naked, but you smiled and told him, “You can kneel, pup. I know you love being on your knees.” That permission was all he needed to sink down, seeming pleased to be on his knees and peering up at both of you with blatant interest.

Your own need was swelling in your gut and setting restlessness into your limbs as Folio detoured to speak to Noah on his way to the bed. “You look so hungry for something in your mouth,” Folio said, audibly delighted. He tugged on Noah’s d-ring until the taller man’s head tilted back, and then he glanced at you. “Can I give the puppy a treat? He’s been so good. I’ve been good, too,” he added, a little rushed, like he didn’t want you to forget that fact.

You took a moment to pretend to consider, tapping your chin as you walked to the bed and perched on the edge of it. A grin grew on your face at how both men squirmed, and you finally pitied them enough to nod. “Yeah, go ahead and give the puppy a treat, Folio. But if you want to fill me up, you better not cum,” you reminded him with a playful wiggle of your eyebrows.

Noah needed no more prompting to start pawing at Folio’s thigh, blinking big, dark eyes up at Folio like the werewolf would need any convincing at all. In fact, Folio was mostly hard already, never challenging to work up into a frenzy. Folio stroked himself and crooned down at Noah about earning his treat, begging for it like a good boy — and Noah barked, loudly, as he gave another excited wiggle.

For how neat Noah typically was — almost to the point of fussy — it was amazing to see how sloppy he got when he had his collar on. Any sense of restraint seemed to unravel in the face of his earnestness, his enthusiasm, and it made something in your gut heat even as your heart swelled with affection. Now was one of those moments when his composure fell apart, and he looked so beautiful as it did.

Folio certainly appreciated it too. He was always messy, both in daily life and in intimate moments, and he beamed down at Noah with obvious joy for how the puppy was taking after him. As Noah wrapped his lips around Folio’s cock and immediately began to bob his head, Folio canted his hips forward just enough to gag him on each descent. Soon, spit began to trickle from the corners of his lips, and Folio fisted Noah’s hair to get a better view, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.

You moved slowly as you watched your boys, undoing your pants and wiggling them down enough to get a hand on yourself. You thought you’d get away with being a voyeur, at least for the moment, but then you felt the mess you’d made of yourself and gasped. It was barely audible, but Folio’s werewolf senses meant he cocked his head.

Lust-darkened eyes were suddenly locked on you, and you felt your heart stutter at how feral Folio already looked. He grunted and tugged Noah down onto his cock even more firmly than before, taking in the sight of you just barely exposed — enough to pleasure yourself and to start filling the room with the scent of your arousal. He always swore it drove him crazy because it set his wolf into a possessive fit, and you found you believed him.

“Hey, puppy,” Folio started, pulling Noah off of his cock. You both looked down at the singer, and he offered each of you a hazy grin, eyes glazed over and face flushed. “It looks like they need some help. You want to go get another treat?” He fisted himself loosely as he spoke, shoulders rolling as if suppressing some urge you couldn’t place.

Noah perked up at the mention of another treat, and he grinned at you when he realized what Folio meant. He yipped and started crawling the second Folio released his hair; you managed to shove your pants and underwear off by the time he made it to you, and you took a moment to scratch under his chin and coo about how handsome he was.

The praise didn’t seem to satisfy Noah for long. As Folio came to join you both, Noah nipped at your fingers and then dove between your legs — you flopped back on the mattress and gasped at the feeling of Noah’s mouth on you, wet and hot and demanding. You felt one of Folio’s hands lift your left thigh to drape your leg over Noah’s shoulder, and you used the leverage to wrap your calf around his back and pull him in closer.

Folio settled next to your head on the bed, shoving your shirt up to get fingers on your nipples. “I still get to fill you up, don’t I?” he clarified, leaning down to steal a kiss that you couldn’t help but moan into.

You nodded and tugged on the back of Noah’s collar with one hand, snagged Folio’s hair with the other. “Yeah, you can fill me up,” you promised breathlessly, rocking your lips a little. Noah was whimpering and whining against you, tongue dragging and teeth tucked so neatly away. Folio was the one who liked the tease with hints of teeth, but Noah was usually far too obedient to even pretend to bite. Not when he was getting a treat, at least.

As pleasure swelled in your gut, your back bowing up off the bed, Folio grinned down at you. “Okay, puppy, give them a break,” he ordered, pushing at Noah’s shoulder when he didn’t budge. He rumbled at Noah when he didn’t listen, and that sound was enough for Noah to pull back and blink up at him.

Lifting onto your elbows, you took a moment to just admire the sight of Noah dazed and blissful, hair sticking up oddly and face damp with sweat and the mess he’d made of himself.

“Up,” you ordered, patting the mattress next to you. Your voice came out small and shaky, but Noah happily complied regardless, clambering onto the bed and settling next to you. He preened when you sat up completely to cover his face in kisses, wiping at his chin and tutting about the mess he’d made — a mess he looked completely unembarrassed about.

Folio still hadn’t stopped touching you. His hand wandered from your chest now, exploring your stomach and the lines of your hips. It dipped down to where Noah’s mouth had just been, his touch making you whimper as your lashes fluttered, and he grinned as he bit down gently on your shoulder. 

Noah wiggled about and pawed at your side, making inquisitive little noises. It took you a moment to realize what he was asking, and you grinned brightly when it clicked. “Does the puppy want to rut today?” you asked, watching his face light up. “You want me to get your pillow and let you hump it like a dumb little puppy while Folio fills me up?”

It might have sounded odd to someone on the outside, but Noah enjoyed getting the chance to simply watch and chase his own pleasure. He couldn’t find the words for it outside of puppy space, and he didn’t have access to words at all once his collar came on, but you thought you understood well enough. Observing without touching meant all Noah needed to do was be a good boy and get himself off, and sometimes he needed that space. 

Of course, there were also times that Noah would insist without words that he needed to finish inside you — or, rarely, with you filling him up, hips rutting up into the air in search of friction you all knew he didn’t actually need to get off.

Tonight was an evening that Noah seemed more excited to rut against a pillow than he could’ve ever been to actually fuck you. You kept a body pillow that Noah would always use to get off in moments like this, occasionally reminding Noah of the mess he always made of it just to earn a furrowed brow and flushed cheeks, and it was easy enough to grab it now as Folio snagged lube.

When you’d started dating, Folio had dutifully donned a condom every time you fucked, but he had almost wept with joy when you finally decided you were fine without one. It had been a little dramatic, sure, but you’d also gotten fucked through the mattress that evening in a way that had you wishing you’d made the decision sooner.

You settled on all fours, wiggling your hips and earning a playful growl from Folio, and made sure you were facing Noah so you could watch your puppy make a mess of himself. He was simply settled for now, hips idly rocking every few seconds; he seemed far more interested in watching Folio get behind you and slick his fingers.

As Folio worked you open, Noah started to move. He gasped softly to echo each noise you made, cock already leaking against the fabric of the pillowcase, and you reached out to touch one of the hands clutching the pillow as a small reminder to take things slowly. Noah had definitely gotten too eager before and finished before you or Folio were even close, and it hadn’t been a big deal, but you wanted him to enjoy himself for as long as possible tonight.

Before you knew it, Folio was working three fingers into you, pressing them deep and curling in search of the spot that made you shudder and keen the second he found it. He made a pleased noise from somewhere deep in his chest and fucked his digits into you at just the right angle to hit the bundle of nerves every time, and you whimpered and scrunched your eyes shut.

“Please,” you finally gasped, unable to ignore how close you’d gotten from Folio’s fingers. “Please, fuck me. Fill me.” That was Folio’s favorite thing: filling you, breeding you. Sometimes he’d lose himself in the moment and mutter about giving you his pups, something you hadn’t actually talked about but that pushed you over the edge every time.

Folio pulled his fingers out and wasted no time in burying his cock in you, taking it as slowly as he could manage. Three fingers was always slightly more stretch than you needed, but it made the press and friction perfect as he settled in to the hilt inside you. “So good for me,” he said, fingers clawing at your hips. He knew better than to go before you gave permission.

You lifted your head to look at Noah, smiling to yourself when you realized he was trying to see where your body met Folio’s. He whimpered when he noticed your gaze on him, rutting a bit faster and looking awfully pathetic about not being able to get what he wanted. He was so spoiled, but it was hard to resist — you told Folio to pull out just long enough to adjust where your bodies were, giving Noah a better angle as Folio yanked you back onto his cock the second he was given permission.

Normally, you liked to kiss Noah while you got fucked, but it seemed Noah couldn’t decide who he wanted to watch in the moment, and this gave him a chance to see everything. He yipped his appreciation, butted his head against Folio’s shoulder, and then howled softly in a request for more. Again, you really had spoiled him.

“Move,” you finally managed, once you’d adjusted and were sure you wouldn’t cum too quickly. You could see Noah if you turned your head just a bit, and you watched as he settled into a rhythm of rutting against the pillow in an exact mirror of Folio’s movements. As Folio fucked you slow and deep, Noah rolled his hips the same way, and his tongue ended up lolling out as he panted.

Folio’s hands slid lower on your hips, settled somewhere he could get good, solid handfuls; he grunted softly and then fucked into you harder, clearly trying to maintain a slower pace. “God, baby,” he babbled mindlessly, voice a little hoarse, “you feel so fucking good around me. Wanna fill you up.” 

When you clenched at his words, Folio hissed and slammed his hips forward abruptly, not giving you a chance to brace yourself as he started to chase his own pleasure. He was a gentleman, of course, and kept himself upright so Noah could watch, despite the fact he’d usually drape across your back to bite on your shoulder — never harshly enough to break the skin, of course, though he’d occasionally admitted he wanted to.

It was normally Noah’s job to leave the bite marks and hickeys. Folio could have sucked the latter into your skin, and he often commented on how pretty the ones from Noah looked there, but he also didn’t trust himself not to latch on and dig his teeth in. The last thing you all needed was a second werewolf in your house.

Your gaze shifted back to Noah even as things grew blurry. You could see his face still flushed, lips parted and tongue peeking out, and noticed that he had continued matching Folio’s rhythm. “Good puppy,” you moaned, hand slipping down beneath your own body. “Good puppy.” The words set Noah whining and writhing, though he kept up his rutting like a good boy. After all, you’d told him the trick you wanted. Spoiled as he was, he was trained well.

Noah was the first one to spill. He tipped his head back, tendons in his neck straining and jaw clenching as he came hard, making a mess you knew you’d be making him clean up. Folio beat you to it, though, and barked out for Noah to clean it up the second he’d came down from his high; you both watched Noah comply, looking tired but pleased with himself.

The sight of Noah licking up his own cum made your climax hit you hard and unexpected, and you bit your bottom lip to muffle a wail as you pressed back against Folio and grinded desperately in search of more. You needed Folio to cum in you, to breed you, and you managed to get out, “Please, Nick.”

You swore you heard another mumble about pups, and then Folio was pounding into you so hard you gasped with each slam of his cock. He spilled as deep inside you as he could manage, and he kneaded your undoubtedly-bruised hips as he came down from the high. All three of you were mostly quiet in the afterglow, panting softly and reaching for each other.

Folio ruffled Noah’s hair as you squeezed his hand, and Noah leaned down to nose at your ear as Folio said, “That didn’t take you long, puppy.” He was clearly teasing, but the way Noah squirmed told you it had hit home anyways.

Noah watched as Folio pulled out of you and then plugged you with two fingers, urging you to lay down slowly so as not to dislodge them. It wouldn’t do anything, really, but you indulged him despite how sensitive you felt and the twinge it caused in your thighs. Noah wavered for a mere second and then was nuzzling in close against your chest, mouthing at the warm skin and making a pleased noise that sounded almost like purring.

“Dogs don’t purr,” you mumbled as Folio cuddled up behind you, adjusting the angle of his arm as best he could despite the fact it definitely seemed like it’d be uncomfortable. Your wolf was so stubborn, but it was endearing in this moment. It wasn’t always.

Folio kissed your shoulder and grinned. “Maybe this one does. Noah’s always been weird. Isn’t that right, puppy?” he asked, giggling softly when Noah snapped his teeth playfully.

It was interesting to watch Folio and Noah banter like this, when Noah was still in pup space; only one of them could speak, but Noah certainly had retorts for all of Folio’s remarks, especially the dumb ones. You found yourself dozing off to the sound of it now, the silly words from Folio and the grumbles from Noah. 

As Folio pressed closer, you yawned and mumbled, “I love you.” Noah yipped softly and Folio yawned around his own reply, and you knew that both of them meant it. Here, with arguably the best behaved pups in the world, you knew you were loved.

You can tell that Noah has simply been itching for your tattoo to heal. Sometimes, you catch him staring at your tattoo, lost in his thoughts. He always blushes so sweetly and gets flustered when you ask him what he’s thinking about. Sometimes, you catch his fingers hovering just above the skin of your back, and you can tell that he’s itching to reach out and touch it. 

Noah never fails to mention just how pretty your tattoo looks, and how perfectly the ink accentuates your body. He seems to have developed a little bit of a fixation with it.

Life has been fairly hectic recently. Your tattoo has long healed—yet Noah hasn’t had the time to do much more than simply wistfully trace his finger along it while you shower before bed. Still though, despite how busy the two of you are—you can sense the desperation that’s bubbling beneath Noah’s skin. 

When you get home after a long workday, you’re exhausted—and you’re feeling a little bit needy, too. 

Once you walk through your front door, you immediately spot your sweet puppy sitting on the couch, watching something on the TV. He barely manages to squeak out a quiet ‘hi’ before you’re crawling atop his lap, straddling him. You cup his face between your hands, gently rubbing your thumb along his jaw.

“Hi, sweet puppy.”

He looks so happy now that you’re here. He’s got that wide, adorable smile on his face. If he had a tail, it would be wagging, enthusiastically thumping against the couch. Your sweet boy is always so genuinely delighted when you come home.

“How was your day?” You ask.

“It was good. I hung out with Jolly, then we got lunch together afterwards.”

Your hand slowly begins to slide up Noah’s leg, lightly squeezing his thigh. He lets out a shaky little inhale, but other than that, he pays no mind to your touch. 

“How was your day?” He asks.

“I’m so tired. Work was exhausting. I wish I could just shut my brain off.”

“We can watch a movie or something together, if you’d like. Or we can go to bed and take a nap. I could run you a hot bath? It might help, especially if you’re feeling a little bit tense. I’ve already made dinner, so you don’t have to worry about cooking tonight. I could also—”

Noah goes silent as he watches you pull your necklace out from beneath your shirt. His eyes follow your movements, as a beam of light reflects off of the key that hangs from the chain. You dangle the chain in front of him, tantalisingly swinging it. Noah’s breath catches as he watches you unclasp the necklace, and remove the key from the chain. 

He’s silent, unmoving. He swallows, waiting for your next movements. 

You reach down, cupping his bulge through his sweats. You feel for the firm plastic that you know is there. Noah lets out a soft whine. It feels so objectifying. 

“Has my sweet puppy been behaving himself?”

Noah nods. He’s at a loss for words.

“I’m just so exhausted after the week I’ve had. I think I just need a good, thourough fucking. I need to get thoroughly railed ‘till I can’t think. Do you think you could do that for me, pup?”

Your sweet puppy looks like his brain has just short-circuited.

“Puppy?”

Noah swallows. “I—I—yeah I can do that. I can do that for you.”

You stand up, clicking your tongue. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs then.” 

Once you’re in the bedroom, you waste no time before getting undressed. Noah does the same. His movements are hurried and almost clumsy. It’s adorable just how desperate he is. 

You sit down on the bed, your back propped against the headboard. You motion for Noah to join you. He does so eagerly, straddling your lap.

He’s such a vision like this, sitting on your lap, naked, his cock locked in his tiny cage. It looks so adorably small compared to the rest of him. When you meet his eyes, you can tell that he’s very nearly completely gone into that subby headspace of his. You can tell that there’s not a single coherent thought behind those big brown eyes of his. 

“Your pretty little cock is so adorable,” you say, as you trace your finger along his locked cock. You tap your nail against the plastic, just to provoke him a little bit and get him more riled up. 

Noah’s breath catches in his chest as you retrieve the key. You take your time as you unlock him, prolonging the process and making it as slow as possible. Noah always makes the sweetest noises when you get him all teased and desperate.

You cup his balls with one hand, while you slide the cage off of his cock. You then carefully take away the ring that sits behind his balls. Noah makes a pitiful little noise as you accidentally jostle his cock. Your sweet boy hasn’t felt any stimulation there in a while, and every slight touch feels so overwhelming. 

You watch as his cock begins to harden. It’s so adorable to see just how worked up he is.

“Aww, you’re hard already? It’s cute just how desperate you are.”

Noah whines in response. The tips of his ears are tinged pink in embarssment—yet he can’t hide just how turned on he is. 

You retrieve the bottle of lube and drizzle the lube directly onto Noah’s cock. He flinches, whimpering about how cold it is.

“Oh you poor thing. I’m sure my pussy will make your cock feel all nice and warm, hmm?”

He whines so sweetly in response.

You spread the lube along his cock. He gasps at your touch, bucking into your hand. It’s not purposely disobedient—the poor thing genuinely can’t help it. It’s been so long since you’ve last touched him—every small touch feels like too much.

You get down onto all fours, positioning yourself. You tuck a pillow beneath your hips. You already know that it won’t be long before you lose the strength to hold yourself up. Something tells you that your sweet puppy will be particularly worked up tonight. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as his finger traces the outline of your back tattoo. 

His touch makes you shiver—it feels like a promise of what’s yet to come. 

You reach your hand behind you, wrapping it around Noah’s cock. Your sweet puppy knows that he’s not allowed to touch his cock, regardless of the circumstances—and that includes moments like these. He’s forced to wait until you guide his cock into your pussy. It’s a little rule that you’ve established between the two of you. You’re well aware of the fact that Noah loves how objectified it makes him feel—almost as if he’s just a toy that’s being used solely for your pleasure. 

You take your time, squeezing him teasingly, before guiding his cock inside you. You let out a soft moan as he presses inside. It always feels so good. You feel so thoroughly filled. Despite all of your teasing remarks about how small his cock is when it’s locked up, your sweet puppy does have quite a thick cock. He always fills you so deliciously, stretching you so nicely.

Usually, you prepare yourself a little bit before taking his cock—but not today. Today, you want to feel the stretch. 

Noah pauses once he’s fully inside you, his hips flush with yours. You let out a soft noise at the stretch. It almost feels like too much—but it also feels so good. 

“There we go,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss against your back. 

He gives you some time to adjust, which you’re very grateful for. He can’t help but trace his finger along the outline of your back tattoo while he waits. You shiver at the touch. 

“You can move now.”

Noah slowly pulls out until just the tip remains inside. He leans down, bracketing your body with his. You can feel his warm chest against your back, and you can feel how his heart races. Your puppy is just as worked up as you are. He presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, before stilling. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he whispers. “Gonna ruin that sweet pussy of yours until you can’t even think. Fill you and breed you ‘till you’re whining in pleasure.”

You can’t help the soft whimper that escapes you at his words. This is exactly what you need. 

You know that the roles have reversed a little bit, but you can’t find it yourself to care. It feels nice to be taken care of like this, to be whispered sweet threats of being ruined ‘till you can’t even think. 

Noah slams his cock back into your pussy, pulling a startled gasp from you.

He’s merciless as he begins to fuck you, his front pressed against your back as he slams his hips against you. 

You’ve asked him to service you, and he’s going to damn make sure that he does his job and makes you feel good. His desperation to be good for you fuels his thrusts. He pushes himself to fuck into you as brutally as possible. He’s been given the priviledge of fucking you—and he’ll make sure that you won’t regret it. 

It’s not long before you’re struggling to hold yourself up. Your arms buckle beneath you, and your chest falls onto the mattress. It all just feels so good. Noah doesn’t falter. His hands grab onto your hips, and he pulls you back to meet his thrusts. The new angle makes it feel like he’s fucking you even deeper than before. 

He’s merciless as he fucks into you, not holding back. His cock ruthlessly brushes against that one spot inside of you, making you feel so good. You can feel your body melting into the mattress, overwhelmed by the constant pleasure that you’re feeling. 

You’re letting out a litany of soft noises that you can’t even will yourself to hold back. It all just feels so good. You can’t help how the noises effortlessly spill from your lips. You can feel your mind going blank, as you allow yourself to succumb to the pleasure. 

It’s not long before you’re tightening around Noah, as your orgasm washes over you. You’re left gasping, while Noah keeps fucking you through it.

“There we go. Doing so well for me,” he coos.

The overstimulation should be too much, but instead, it feels so delicious. Noah keeps fucking you through it, and his pace doesn’t even falter. He thrusts into you with a renewed vigour, determined to bring you to orgasm once more.

He won’t show you any mercy until he pulls another orgasm out of you. 

“Need—need more,” you whisper.

Noah slows for a moment. “What do you need?”

“Need you to go harder. Faster,” you plead. 

Noah presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, before picking up his pace. 

The gears are already turning in his head as he begins to scheme. This is the first time that he’s been allowed to fuck you since you got your back tattoo done. He needs to time this so carefully. He’s not allowed to touch himself—so he has to pull out at the exact moment that he cums, and try not to ruin his orgasm. 

He thrusts into you with a renewed vigour. Soon, you’re clenching around him, as Noah works you through your second orgasm. 

You gasp as Noah suddenly pulls out. You feel a warmth against your back, as his cum splatters against your skin. 

“Noah!”

You turn your head to look at him. His head is tilted downwards, his hair falling onto his face—but his eyes are firmly fixated on the cum that drips down your tattooed back. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to regain his breathing. 

He’s got a sheepish little smile on his face, an adorable little smirk as his eyes meet yours.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he grins.

“Naughty pup,” you mumble, shaking your head in exasperation.

You collapse back against the bed, exhausted. 

As bratty as Noah is, he knows how to apologise. He’s gone for a moment, before he returns with a damp washcloth. The bed creaks beneath his weight as he sits down beside you. He cleans off the remains of his cum from your back. He presses soft kisses to your shoulder, murmuring a quiet apology—though you know damn well that he doesn’t regret a single thing. 

“You’re such a little shit,” you say, still a little bit breathless. ”You’re lucky I didn’t make you lick up your mess. You finally got it out of your system?”

Noah gives you a cheeky little smile. He looks thoroughly exhausted. “Mhm.”

He gets up once more, disposing of the washcloth. When he comes back, he kneels on the floor beside your bed, his face just inches away from yours. It seems that he’s taking great pleasure in seeing just how thoroughly ruined you look. He tilts your head up, bringing you in for a soft kiss. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you all nice and clean. My apology.”

Noah sticks to his word, taking such sweet care of you as he steps into the shower with you. He spoils you with affection, thoroughly washing your hair and body. He begins with massaging your arms, and then moves onto working the knots out of your back. You resist the urge to roll your eyes when you feel him tracing the outline of your back tattoo with his finger. All is forgiven though, once he moves onto washing your hair. The pads of his fingers scratch against your scalp—and oh, it feels so good. He dries you off afterwards, helping you get dressed—and he takes care of your hair, too.

As Noah busies himself with going through his own hair routine, you take that time to clean his cock cage. You also clean and disinfect a slightly smaller cage. It’s almost the exact same—a light blue, plastic cage—just slightly smaller. Noah hasn’t worn this one before—but you’re going to ask him if he’d like to.

When Noah joins you in the bedroom, you hold both cages out for him.

“I was thinking that we could try out a smaller size. It’s completely up to you. There’s absolutely no pressure.”

Noah’s finger traces over the smaller cage. His breath hitches.

“Have you—have you had this one for a while?”

“I bought it a few weeks ago. I thought that you might be interested in it.”

Noah swallows, then nods. “I think—I think I’d like to wear the smaller one.”

“You sure, sweetheart?”

He nods.

”Pull your shorts down for me?”

Noah does as you ask. He’s still soft, but his cock is beginning to slightly harden again. You’re so careful as you touch him, trying not to jostle him too much. You slip the little plastic ring over his shaft, and gently position it until it rests behind his balls.

“Does that feel okay, pup?”

“Yeah.” He sounds almost a little bit breathless. It’s clear that he’s not entirely unaffected by the idea.

You then attach the other part of the cage, sliding it over his cock. You hold the cage in place. 

“Does that feel comfortable? Can I lock it?”

The feeling of the cage is both familiar, and strange. Noah can tell that the cage is noticeably small and tighter—and it makes him feel so dizzy.

“Y—yes. Please.”

You don’t comment on how sweet and small his tone of voice is. 

You attach the lock to the cage, clicking it shut. Noah shivers once you let go of his caged cock.

“There we go. Good boy,” you coo. “Your little cock looks so pretty.”

Noah blushes so sweetly. It feels a little bit humiliating—and yet he loves everything about it. He can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips.

You giggle. “I swear to god, I’m never unlocking you ever again.”

Noah only gives you a sly little smile in response. That’s hardly a punishment, in his eyes.

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Everyone you crossed warned you.

“Get out while you can.”

“That house- It's haunted.”

“You're making a mistake.”

Yet, you made no attempt to leave. You figured they were trying to scare you off for no apparent reason.

That was until a week after living in your new home.

Every night the lights wouldn't turn on, you've changed the light bulbs three times within seven days, and it still won't turn on past eight p.m.

And your flashlight stopped working all of a sudden, no matter how much you change the batteries.

And one night- you made the unfortunate mistake of staying up.

It was 3:30 a.m.

And suddenly the grandfather clock started to chime.

You let out a startled gasp, you were under the impression that the clock had stopped working years ago.

The piano started to play on its own, you didn't want to get out of bed- it was as if you were in a horror film.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself and you took a slow and hesitant step out of bed.

As you walked towards the common room of the house, the music being played on the piano grew in both volume and speed.

You made your way to the piano and watched in shock as the keys moved on their own, as if a professional pianist was playing it.

Your eyes were pried to the piano as you walked to a lamp, praying it'll magically turn on.

3:32 a.m.

The light bulb of the lamp you were attempting to configure, exploded.

Yes, exploded.

You let out a yelp and ran to the kitchen looking for the flashlight with small but noticeable pieces of glass in your arm.

You grabbed the flashlight and cried, throwing it in frustration as you remembered it doesn't work anymore.

The piano stopped.

3:33 a.m.

Sobs.

Broken heartfelt sobs.

But they weren't coming from you- no, the noise was…behind you?

You turned around in an instant, just to be greeted with a human-like entity standing at 6’2”.

Your eyes went wide and no noise was able to escape your lips.

“You aren't supposed to be here.” It cried.

Your breathing grew heavier as you backed up, the further you walked away, the louder it's wailing got.

How?

You blinked and it was gone. And then you felt breathing on your neck, you cried and slowly turned around to the still sobbing creature.

“What do you want from me?” You asked- it was more of a terrified whimper.

You were unable to make eye contact with the crying creature, and then it spoke once more.

“For you to leave.”

You almost forgot about the glass shards in your arm, until the ghost's eyes landed on your bleeding arm, the blood starting to slowly dry.

Its eyes went wide, unable to look away from the blood. It swiped its finger on the blood- it hasn't fully dried yet.

It licked the blood off of its finger and closed its eyes in pleasure.

It's crying has finally calmed, though your breathing remains heavy.

You whimpered, not daring to move whatsoever.

The glass seemed more and more painful as the time went by. But time had gone by so quickly. It's almost been a whole hour.

Noah's eyes widen as he realizes what time it is.

4:32 a.m.

He quickly puts his hand on the glass that's in your arm and makes eye contact with you as you wince in pain.

4:33 a.m.

And he's…gone?

What just happened?

You look down at your arm, the throbbing pain of the glass no longer there. And that's because the glass isn't in your arm anymore.

Did he have something to do with that?

You look around, searching for a sign of him before stumbling back into your bedroom.

This has to be a dream. You tell yourself. There's no way this isn't! Ghosts aren't real!

You laid back down and closed your eyes, but you were unable to fall back asleep. You tossed and turned.

He was still here, you were just oblivious.

You can't see him now, you can only see him in a certain timeframe.

3:33 a.m. to 4:33 a.m.

But why so specific?

He's watching.

A week has passed since that night, you've failed to stay awake that late again.

You've done some research on your home. The entire time your aunt was living in this house, it was under someone else's name.

Noah Sebastian Davis.

He was the previous homeowner- there were no files on your aunt.

But how? This was her house!

Out of curiosity you decided to Google search the man's name and an obituary appeared along multiple newsletters and a band called Bad Omens.

First, you clicked the obituary:

“Noah Sebastian Davis, known for being the lead vocalist in the moderately popular ‘metalcore’ band, Bad Omens…”

“His death was ruled as a suicide but some suspect it was a murder…”

“He passed away on October 12th, approximately at 3 am.”

“May Noah now rest in peace…”

You tilted your head as you read. A murder disguised as a suicide?

An awful image appeared in your head before your eyes went wide- You thought of your aunt- No! She wouldn't kill someone! Although…this house was never in her name- No!

You then did research on the band Bad Omens.

You stayed up for hours learning about the band and attempting to learn more about his death.

You have to know what happened.

Was your aunt involved?

Was that the man you saw?

Was it truly a suicide?

3:31 a.m.

You wake to the grandfather clock, chiming louder than it did last time.

Your eyes widen in realization. It wasn't a dream last night, your hands reach for your phone on the nightstand and you check the time, light of the screen making your eyes flutter at the sudden intrusion.

You get out of bed and go to the kitchen, where you saw him last time.

3:32 a.m.

The piano starts to play again, a hauntingly, eerie, melody.

Then- everything stops.

Has it really been 60 seconds?

Yes. Yes it has.

3:30 a.m.

The sobs appear behind you again.

“Are…are you Noah?”

The sobbing comes to an abrupt end and you turn around, facing the creature.

“Noah Sebastian?” You ask.

“How?” He asks. “How do you remember me?”

His sobbing starts up again.

“No one remembers me. No one's supposed to remember me.”

“Everyone remembers you. You're not some memory that fades away.” You whisper.

“Why are you still here, Noah? What is the truth?”

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𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫: @unendeared2

@/r3prise fics

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 <3

“Besides, business proposals best done over dinner, no?”  Noah smirks, and you’re too enamored to process his words.  

“Alright... Wait- business proposals?” 

You don’t have any time to question him further before he’s practically dragging you towards a van where the other bandmates stand. They greet you with an energy that seems too high for it being almost midnight. Before you can process anything, you’re shoved into the backseat, sandwiched between Noah and Folio. Your heart hammers, questioning what the hell is happening and if you’re about to be murdered by the band you look up to the most.  

Noah nudges you out of your thoughts, clearly sensing your spiraling brain as the van drives off.  

“Relax. It’s just food, hm?” He says, barely above a whisper before looking back out the heavily tinted windows.  

You take a moment to observe your surroundings, a weak attempt at grounding yourself. Davis is driving, you recognize the silver strips of hair even as he faces away from you. Bryan is in the passenger seat, scrolling through tonight’s picture on his laptop. The bright screen lights up half the van. The band members, and you, are in the back. Folio taps his knees along to the drums of whatever’s playing on the aux, Jolly and Nick are scrolling through their phones, occasionally laughing quietly when something funny comes up. You know all these faces, and yet now it feels strange to be in a somewhat casual situation with them. If this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up.  

The ride is quiet but smooth and after about 15 minutes, the van parks. Eeryone files out like a clown car into the parking lot a cheap fast-food place, probably the only thing open at this hour. You look up at the flickering red “24 hours” sign atop the small restaurant.  

“Business dinner, huh?” you tease. 

“Shut up. Tour life isn’t easy.” Noah snorts, smiling as he places a large hand on your shoulder and guides you towards the entrance. One by one you all order, and true to his word, Noah pays for everyone. After acquiring food and replenishing the energy today drained, Noah looks at you across the table. His face turns serious for the first time tonight.  

“So, I looked you up.” He starts, “Your boss had some high praises for you, even gave me your portfolio from college.” 

“I- wait what?” 

Noah doesn’t let you finish, continuing, “Your mixes sound amazing. You know your shit. And you know you’re way around a studio.” 

You try to speak, but he interrupts again. “Valedictorian too. That’s not an easy thing to do. Your instructors practically sang your praises over the phone.” 

“I’m confused. What- what's going on right now?” Your heart pounds as you look around at everyone in the booth. 

Davis interjects before Noah can interrogate you anymore, “Can you please stop scaring the poor girl and tell her? Before she has a heart attack.”  

Noah sighs dramatically, scanning your clearly nervous figure across from him. “We need an extra hand in the studios, and, with your experience in audio post, you could help with tour videos and music videos. You’re a good stagehand too.” 

“Wait, wait. You... wanna hire me?” You barely recognize your own voice as the blood thrums through your ears.  

Noah nods, and his eyes flicker down to meet your fidgeting, shaky hands. “You’re talented. You know this stuff, probably more than I did at your age. You have a good ear.” 

Your face burns from the praise. Even with your high education, you weren’t ready for this. Were you? “I-I’ve never even worked in a proper studio-” You try to argue. 

“There were studios in your school. You aced those classes.” He says with a smirk, and it makes you pause.  

“How...” You take a breath, head spinning. “Why do you know that?”  

Noah smiles, sitting up a little in the booth. “We did our research on you.” 

“In the, what, four hours since you’ve met me?” You argue, looking at him incredulously. 

“No. In the 6 weeks since the venue change.” Nick interjects you freeze, looking like a deer in headlights. They knew you before today? 

Jolly sighs next to him, deciding to take over. “We needed someone who could do lots of different things. Mixing, recording, live work, stuff like that. We visited your university before, a while ago. We knew that they were good. So, we asked around and found you. We also found out you worked at the venue we were going to, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity.”  

“To... recruit me?” You ask, swallowing thickly as everyone's eyes seem to be on you.  

Noah cuts back in, “You’re incredibly talented. And what you may lack in experience, you make up for in hard work. I know that this is sudden, but I also know that you can do this.” 

“Why me...? Why not someone more experienced, someone who lives in LA, someone who can do this better?”  

Noah holds on up one finger, “First of all, we’ll discuss the living thing in a minute.” Another finger, “Second, we wanted someone younger. Someone with a fresh perspective and fresh ears.”  

You take a breath, nodding along slowly. They’re serious about this...  

“and the living thing? I can’t exactly get a Los Angeles apartment right now. Not with this student debt.” You say.  

“Theres the tricky part.” He starts, “Two options. The first is that the label gets you an apartment and pays for it. The second, and better option... is that you live with us.” He says, nodding to Jolly. “You won’t pay rent, and you’d be more involved in production this way.”   

Your heart sinks. Living with them?! You couldn’t. However... this is probably the biggest job offer you’ll ever get. In your life. Are you really gonna do this? You have to. Right...? 

Theres a beat of silence as you think. Your professors’ constant lectures about missed opportunities ring in your head. You have to do this.  

“Okay. I’ll do it.” Your voice is shaky, but you know if you contemplate this for too long you’ll chicken out. Noah smiles and pulls an ipad out of his bag, the contract already written up on the screen.  

“Take as long as you need.” Nick says, his bright blue eyes meet yours. Light eyes and dark hair... that’s a lethal combination. You shake the thoughts away, taking the electronic pen and beginning to read. 

Your eyes scan every line, mentally recalling the classes that taught you about these kinds of contracts. Thankfully, nothing looks suspicious and jesus, the pay is good. Finally, after about 10 minutes of reading and signing, your pen hovers over the final signature line. You look up to see Noah’s gaze fixated on you. He’s not pushing or coercing, just watching your next move. Taking a breath, you sign and date the final page, turning the ipad back to him. He smiles, saving the document and shoving the device into his bag again. Everyone at the table claps, cheering at a respectful loudness as you officially join the crew. 

“Welcome to the team, Y/N.” Davis says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You laugh softly in disbelief, letting out a shaky breath.  

Across the table, Noah smiles at you with a softness that makes your heart clench, and you can’t help but return the gesture. 

Noah stands first, ever the leader as the rest of the guys follow. “You need rest. Let’s get you back to your car so you can get home. We’ll be in town for a few days to help you prepare. I’ll text you the flight information.”  

The ride back to the venue is quiet, everyone tired now that they’re fed and the adrenaline has worn off. You however, are wired, nerves alight and heart pounding. They drop you off at your car, and Noah goes over last few things before parting ways. Something about packing essentials and a guest room. You can barely register anything as his hair halos around his head from the parking lot’s lights. This was going to be hard.  

divider 

The next three days are a blur of packing, phone calls, and mental preparation. You recall Noah saying that his guest room was already set up, and that all I needed was essentials and any gear. Somehow you manage to fit it all in two suitcases and a carry-on. Luckily, your roommate agreed to take on the full lease of your small apartment, so that was handled. Noah helped you arrange to get your car shipped across the country, which was easier than you expected. After a grueling three days, you’re loading your luggage into the same van as before. Well, more like watching them load it. You watch anxiously as the tow truck hauls your brand-new car, a graduation present, onto its bed. Thankfully, nothing goes awry.  

The ride to the airport is fast, and once you’re there, the guys practically refuse to let you carry any of your luggage, so you walk through the terminal with just your computer bag as everyone else lugs around large suitcases. Check-in goes smoothly and security is fast. Before you know it, you’re boarding the plane to your new life. It’s nothing fancy, a nice commercial flight in business seating. The plane is almost empty, and still, Noah sits next to you, his warm thigh brushing yours for a fleeting moment. He doesn’t say much, throwing on his headphones and openin his computer once you get to altitude. 

The flight is long, and your hips and legs ache by the final hour. When you step out into the gate, the familiar sight of LAX greets you. You’d been to California before, but this was different. You live here now. And whether you like it or not, you didn’t exactly have a means of escape.  

Once again, you’re back in a van. Except now, it’s only with Jolly and Noah. The Nicks went their separate ways after the flight, to their respective homes. By the time you reach the house, your head hurts from jetlag and your eyes are heavy with impending sleep. The driver parks, and the three of you make your way out. Still not carrying any luggage, thanks to Noah, you stare at the large house in front of you. It's nothing crazy, not grossly modern or insanely expensive, just a nice sized family house.  

The guys carry the luggage inside, and your heart stops once you take a look around. The walls are immediately familiar. The staircase, the living room, even the stupid custom painting above them the stairs. They still live here? It feels nostalgic in a way, having seen this house plenty of times from streams and posts before Noah ghosted the world.  

“C’mon. I’ll show you to your room.” Noah’s voice snaps you out of your haze, a gentle hand on your back guiding you towards the stairs. As you make your way up, you’re hyper aware of Noah’s presence.  

“Orie moved out a little while ago, the master’s all yours.” He opens the door, showing off the nice sized master bedroom.  

Your eyebrows raise, “The master? Are you sure?”  

“Yeah. We’ve all got our own setups in our rooms that we’re too lazy to move. Besides, it's got an en suite, so you get more privacy.” Noah's voice is quieter now, clearly tired and coming down from an exciting tour. “Make yourself at home, take a nap if you need to. I know I need one. Don’t worry about work right now. We’ll talk about that stuff later.” 

You nod, “Thank you. For everything... I really appreciate you trusting me with this.”  

“Don’t thank me. You deserve it.” Noah’s words don’t make it easy to hide your infatuation. You cheeks are flushed before you can stop it. Noah just smiles and dips out of the room, leaving you alone. The room smelt like clean laundry, and when you sat down on the bed, you knew you were a goner. The jetlag had caught up to you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re passing out on the plush king-sized bed.  

Divider   

You wake up a few hours later to a soft thrumming at the door. Your brain takes a moment to orient itself in the unfamiliar surroundings of your new room. You pinch yourself awake, blinking hard just in case you were still dreaming. But no, this was real. You were here.  

Noah’s voice pulls you out of your own thoughts, “Y/N? You awake? We’re ordering some pizza for dinner if you want some.” 

“Coming!” You say, fixing your twisted hoodie and sweatpants that had climbed up to your knees in your sleep. You smooth down your hair in the mirror and do one last look over before opening one of the double doors.  

You have to physically stop your knees from giving out at the sight in front of you. Noah's slightly grown out hair is messy from sleep, standing in a couple different directions. He’s in just a thin wife beater and sweatpants, his tattoos on full display. As well as his arms that you swear have gotten bigger since you last saw him just a few hours ago.  

“You with me? You must’ve slept pretty hard.” Noah chuckles, breaking your still sleepy haze as you admire him. He doesn’t pry when you blush slightly, simply motioning to the stairs. You follow him a few paces behind as he shows you around.  

“The studios through there, feel free to go in whenever you want.” You peak into the room, quickly glancing at the array of instruments and gear. You’re not terribly interested in working at the moment, running on an empty stomach and incoming jet lag headache.  

Noah guides you around the rest of the downstairs, showing you where things are in the kitchen and going through regular routines. “I usually wake up early. I like to go running before everyone gets up.” He says, pouring you and himself some water. “We typically have a few weeks after tours before we start officially working on things. But it’s hard for me to stay stagnant for too long.” He says sheepishly, you nod along silently. 

“Your work will start more once the production period starts again in a few weeks. We’re still working through the tail end of the album, so you’ll have plenty of work.” 

You nod wordlessly; hands folded politely behind you.  

“So, for now just uhm, get settled, learn the area and whatnot. Your car should be here in two days, so then you can go out whenever. In the meantime, you can join me in the studio if you want, or do some freelance, whatever.”  

Once again, you nod, smiling at the idea of working with him.  

Noah laughs softly, “I guess they weren’t lying when they said you were quiet when you’re not working.”  

Your cheeks flush, realizing you haven’t said anything since you came downstairs. “Sorry, heh.”  

“Don’t be. It's much better than someone asking a million questions and screaming in my face.” He teases, smiling.  

Jolly and Michael come downstairs at the same time, talking about the pizzas they want and how many drinks to get.  

Jolly looks up from his phone, nodding to you with a gentle smile, “Look who’s finally awake! This is Michael; he helps with songwriting and producing. Michael, this is our newest engineer and tour hand, Y/n.”  

“It's nice to meet you.” You say, shaking his hand. Your heart flutters as he introduces you, pride bubbling inside at the titles. 

Once introductions are out of the way, everyone’s focus shifts towards the pizza about to be ordered, arguing about which place to order fromm how many to get, and who’s gonna pick it up. You step back and Noah catches the movement, worried. You motion towards the hallway leading to the studio. He nods wordlessly, smiling.  

Escaping from the chaos, you wander into the bedroom studio setup. Everything quiets, the acoustic panels doing their job. You look around at everything. It's nothing crazy or out of this world, just a nice studio built up over the years into something that worked for them. You run a finger along one of the guitars in the corner, the matte black finish catching your eye. Turning, you sit down in a comfortable desk chair. On the desk, there are a few nice interfaces, a monitor controller, an array of microphones, and a desktop computer. A few guitar amps sit under the desk to save space. You smile to yourself when you can easily name everything. Even after all that training, you still sometimes worry it’s not enough. And in a way its not, experience and time are the real teachers. Still, there's a sense of accomplishment as you fiddle with the midi keyboard to the side.  

“What do you think?” Once again, Noah startles you out of your skin, making you clutch your chest. He only laughs, stepping closer.   “I feel like you’re doing it on person now.” You tease, spinning the chair around to face him. He laughs, leaning against the doorway with one arm.  

Dear God, that smile. 

“We’ll have you in the big studios in a few weeks. I think you’ll like them.” Your chest flutters at the idea of finally being in a proper, real studio.  

“I think I will too. It’s been a while since I’ve been in one.”  

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna just throw you into the fire. You can just sit and watch the first few days if you want, get an idea of our workflow.” He assures.  

“That sounds good. You guys primarily use Logic for production right?” You ask, 

“Yeah. The songs don’t usually don’t go to Pro tools until the final stages. You know Pro tools?”  

“Really well actually. It’s usually my go-to for editing and mixing.” You smile proudly.  

“That’s good. I can’t wrap my head around it most of the time. I guess we found another job for you.” He smiles, “I’m gonna send you some demos to mix later, I wanna see what you think and how you work. Don’t go easy on me, I want honesty.” 

You smile at that, sitting up straighter. You always loved mixing other’s music rather than making your own. He clearly notices your excitement, grabbing a spare chair and motioning for you to sit so he could use the computer. After swapping places, he loads up a few different projects, trying to decide which to show you. 

“This one's a bit more relaxed, more melodic.” He says and presses the space bar. A rolling, hypnotic guitar riff fills the room through the monitors.  

As the song goes on, you mentally take note of a few things. You have to close your eyes to avoid staring at his broad shoulders as he turns away from you.  

The song ends and he turns around, “So?”  

“Its good!” You praise, but he gives you a look. One that says, “be honest.” You sigh, chewing your lip. “I think the uhm, backgrounds feel lost. They should come up a little. And the guitars tracks sort of sound like they’re fighting each other...”  

He smiles at that, nodding. His voice drops a little, “That's what I want. Good.” He turns back to the computer.  

Your breath hitches at his words, and you have to squeeze your thighs to stop yourself from reacting. Noah continues to show you songs, new and old. It’s fun to see the inner workings of all the songs as he explains his processes and the stories behind them.  

The doorbell rudely interrupts your time, and you hear the rest of the guys’ voices fill the house. Noah closes the projects and you follow him out to the living room, seeing Nick, Folio, and Davis holding pizzas. Davis sets them down and pulls you into a hug; he smells woodsy and faintly of cigarettes.  

Everyone settles around the living room and enjoys the pizza. Laughter fills the house and for the first time in a couple days, you feel yourself relax. Conversation is easy and you find yourself engaging more than usual. Even after only having met a few days ago, you feel like you’ve known everyone for years. You could get used to this.  

Noah seems to notice your more social behavior. Your eyes meet and he smiles at you from across the room. You return the smile, but not without a heavy pink dusting on your cheeks. You expect him to look away first, but he holds your gaze until it’s too much for you. You look away, laughing softly.  

The night goes on for a while. A few of the guy's drink, Noah declines like usual. Davis offers you but you decline as well. You don’t typically drink unless it's around the holidays or if you’re really in the mood. You and Nick end up chatting for a while about cats and random shit, and the whole time you feel Noah’s gaze on you. Even Nick seems to give him a look at one point, which makes you laugh.  

The night ends around 1am, the guys that haven’t sobered up crash on the couch. Davis drives home, having only had one beer hours ago. You and Jolly put away the leftover pizza, playing tetris as you try to arrange the boxes in the fridge. Once everything's cleaned up, you say goodnight to everyone and head upstairs.  

This time, you hear Noah’s footsteps behind you on the stairs. You reach your door and turn around, meeting his eyes. “Everything alright?” You ask with a tinge of sarcasm when he doesn’t continue to his own room.  

“Yeah, I just uh- was wondering if you wanted to chat for a little while. Unless you’re tired.” He rubs the back of his neck, his arms flexing briefly.  

Dear god.  

“Uhm, yeah. Sure. I’m not super tired right now.” He smiles at that, nodding his head for you to follow him.  

He guides you into his room, and wow, it looks the same as it did 5 years ago. Same bed, same framed posters. You peak at his desk setup, two monitors and a nice pc behind it. The webcam and mic are still there, but the webcam is facing a different way, and the mic is tucked to the side. It makes you a little sad, knowing he had to stop streaming when things go too big. You weren’t a fan back then, still going through school online during covid and not into metal music yet. But still, you watched old archives on occasion when you needed a pick me up.  

He pulls out the red gaming chair for you, moving to sit on his bed. “So, how are you doing?” His voice is gentle, almost hesitant.  

“Honestly, better than I expected. I’m glad I get along with everyone.” You say, sitting down in the chair. You look around again, noting the small rack of jewelry and sunglasses behind the door.  

“I’m glad. And I knew you would fit in well. Told you we don’t bite.”  

You look down shyly at that, smiling to yourself.  

You two end up talking for longer than you expected, sharing life stories and stupid work moments. He tells you about his ghost writing and tour stories; you return with stories about all the bands and comic you worked for at the old venue. It’s nearly 3am when you finally begin to nod off in his chair. He chuckles softly, 

“C’mon, let's get you to bed.”  

He walks you to your room, and the two of you pause at your door. 

“Thanks, by the way. For tonight. I usually have trouble sleeping. And talking helps me wind down.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper to not disturb the others.  

You smile tiredly, nodding in understanding.  

The conversation ends but neither of you move. Theres a thick tension in growing in the air. Noah takes a step closer, invading your personal space. Your breath hitches as he stares at you. He leans down a little, cocking his head to the side. Your heart races, and your hands come up to his firm chest.  

You swallow thickly, “Noah... I-”  

“Hmm?” He places a hand over yours, his long, nimble fingers caressing yours.  

He leans in further, and this time you lean in as well. Your breaths mingle as you inch closer and closer. You can’t find it in your brain to pull away. You know this isn’t smart; this could make you lose the dream job you just got. But at the same time, you can’t bring yourself to stop. You want this. You’ve wanted this.  

Your faces are millimeters away, both your eyes closed now. You can feel his warm breath on your lips, you can feel the heat radiating from his chest. His heartbeat thrums rapidly under your fingertips.  

Your lips are just about to meet when you hear a shuffle and a groan from downstairs, then footsteps. You heart drops, and it snaps both of you out of your shared trance, your eyes are wide as they meet his own apologetic ones. He looks like he’s about to say something, but you don’t give him enough time to speak. You open your door and retreat into your room.  

End.

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