5' 8"-5' 9"
It's amazing how good a hot shower can feel when you're chilled to the bone. Fifteen minutes under the pressure of water, and Noah finally felt like a human again. The tension drained from his body. The panic and fear he had felt back at the party faded slowly. He was finally home with Ethan. He was safe. Besides, Ethan had put the picture of Noah on the lock screen… That little gesture felt ridiculously sweet in Morgan's opinion!
Noah changed into a loose t-shirt and pajama pants and got out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair as he walked. Ethan was lying on the bed, patiently tolerating the attack of the cats: Peanut curled up into a fluffy ball right against his neck, while Fluffy climbed on top of him, kneading his chest with absolutely no regard for the white-and-orange hoodie he was snagging with his claws.
"Wonderful," Noah smirked, walking over to the bed. His hair, still damp, curled tighter than usual and clung to his forehead. Ethan propped himself up on his elbows, which sent Fluffy falling down from his chest with an indignant growl.
"I thought you were going to change," Noah said with a grin, hanging the damp towel over the back of a chair.
"I said I'd undress," Ethan corrected him. Noah had no idea what that clarification was supposed to mean, but he let it go. There was no point grilling Ethan over something dumb. He'd already taken the mask off, the knee socks, and those black armbands. That's where his enthusiasm for stripping down had apparently ended.
"Get up. It's time for your present!" Noah announced, holding out a hand to help Ethan off the bed. Ethan ignored it and stood up on his own and ended up just in front of Noah's face. His eyes scanned Noah's face with more focus than usual; his expression was oddly intense, like he was making some huge, borderline existential decision silently inside his head.
"Sit down at the table and close your eyes," Noah said, slowly backing toward the fridge.
"Okay."
"And no peeking!"
"Okay."
Ethan flopped down on a chair. Once Noah was sure his eyes were actually shut, he dimmed the lights and pulled a small box from the fridge. Inside there was a simple, single-serving cake he had ordered just for Ethan's birthday. Unwrapping the treat, he tore open a pack of candles and stared at the pile of tiny wax sticks in his hand. They were thin, sure, but twenty-three of them would completely cover the design on the top of the cake. Noah figured he'd have to get a little creative.
"Can I open my eyes now?" Ethan asked, already sounding impatient.
"Nope!"
Thomson let out a heavy sigh but kept waiting as he was told.
Noah went back into the hallway and started digging through the pockets of all his clothes, looking for a lighter. The one Ethan had bought him was, naturally, still sitting in the car.
"What are you doing over there?"
"Just a little more patience!"
He finally found a lighter, but using it to light birthday candles turned out to be a pain in the ass. He managed to burn himself twice before all the flames were flickering on top of the cake.
"Okay, now open your eyes!"
Ethan opened his eyes and stared at the small cake, decorated with a swirl of colorful frosting that painted a starry night sky. Dark green leaves curled along the edges. And in the middle of the white speckled sky, there it was—a familiar constellation. At the very bottom there was a simple, basic phrase: "Happy Birthday, Ethan."
"Wait… is this a reference to when we first met? That view from Hughes's winter garden?" Ethan asked, a little unsure.
"Yes!" Noah lit up. "I was hoping you'd catch that! Now make a wish and blow the candles!"
Ethan gave him a skeptical look.
"Seriously? Five?" Ethan meant the five little flames dancing on top of the cake. "I'm twenty-three…"
"Yeah, but the cake's small, so two on top, three on the bottom. That makes twenty-three!"
"Clever."
"Make a wish!"
Thomson sighed again. He was probably one of those people who thought blowing out candles and making wishes was strictly for kids. But instead of saying that out loud, he just frowned a little, leaned in toward the cake, and blew the candles out.
"Happy birthday!" Noah exclaimed happily.
"Thanks," Ethan nodded. "I don't want to ruin everything, but… I don't really like sweets," he added, gently pushing the cake away from him.
"I remember," Noah nodded right back. "That's why I got a tiny one. Whether you eat birthday cake or not, everybody should get to make a wish. As for this sugary bomb…" he sighed dramatically, sliding the box back toward his side of the table, "I'll take full responsibility for destroying it, even if it breaks my heart."
"My hero," Ethan said with a smile. It was the second compliment of the night. Sure, it was half a joke, but Noah didn't mind. He liked hearing it anyway. With Matthew, and with all the not-so-serious relationships before him, people had always treated Noah like some helpless puppy, as if he couldn't do anything on his own and needed a big strong guy to keep him safe. Ethan never did that. He never tried to act tougher or stronger, never implied Noah couldn't handle things without him, even though, in Noah's opinion, Ethan really was tougher and stronger, and yeah, sometimes Noah did need him. Still… with Ethan, it always felt like they were equals.
"You're the real hero here," Morgan smiled, swiping a bit of dark blue frosting off the edge of the cake and popping it in his mouth. "If you hadn't stepped in, I'd still be splashing around in that damn pool," he sighed. "It doesn't matter what I say or do—it never gets the point across. No one takes me seriously. Then you showed up, said a few words, and bam, they jumped. That was sick."
…So sick, I almost would've been turned on if I hadn't been half-frozen at the time.
"I wish I had that kind of authority," Morgan added with a small smile. "Maybe one day my words won't just bounce off people. I don't want to spend my whole life hiding behind you."
Whole life? Did you just say 'whole life'? Oh my God. What's next? A proposal?! Pull it together, Noah, and just pray Ethan ignores that phrase.
"While you're hiding behind me, I'm hiding behind my dad," Ethan answered, keeping his eyes on the cake that was rapidly disappearing thanks to Noah. "Do you think anyone would listen to a word I say if my dad wasn't rich? And a lawyer? Yeah, no. Not likely."
He didn't say anything. Thank God!
"I'm just a classic spoiled rich kid, using my favored position without hesitation."
"You are not spoiled."
"Oh, I totally am," Ethan smirked.
"Even without your dad, you've got the kind of reputation that says you can handle anything," Noah kept pushing back.
"How delicately you avoided just calling me fucking crazy."
"People hear what they want to hear."
"Fair enough," Ethan shrugged his shoulders. "But even that reputation didn't come out of nowhere. No one wanted to mess with me from the start, since everyone knew who'd step in if something went wrong. And knowing my dad and his money would always have my back, I acted however the hell I wanted. So that freedom I have was definitely given to me by my dad and not my sparkling personality," Thomson added with a smirk. "And besides, the guys by the pool were athletes. It's a totally different breed."
"What do you mean?" Noah asked, licking more frosting off his finger. Ethan seemed to zone out watching him and didn't answer until Morgan's hand finally dropped.
"Most athletes know their golden ticket, what they're banking their whole future on, is their body. It's their career, their shot at something big. One bad injury can wipe it all out. So only a complete idiot would start a fight with a guy holding a lacrosse stick. It's way too risky to mess up your whole future over something like that."
"But… you wouldn't actually hurt them, would you?"
"Hm…" Ethan tapped his fingers on the table, then glanced at the clock on the wall. "You know, we've got about twenty minutes left of October thirty-first," he said, switching the topic.
"Oh, you're right!" Noah jumped up from his chair and bolted toward the painting. "I haven't even given you your main present yet!" He stopped beside the covered canvas and waited for Ethan to come closer. Pulling off the white cloth suddenly felt like a big deal. What if Ethan didn't like it? Or worse, what if it brought up something bad?
"Do you want to guess what it is?" Noah asked, trying to make it look intriguing.
"Some fallen sailor getting fucked by an octopus-man? You'd be the sailor, obviously. I'd be the octo—"
"No," Noah cut him off sharply, his face going bright red. Okay, sure, there was a sketch like that… but only in his sketchbook. "Do you seriously think I'd gift you porn?!"
"I like porn, so why not?" Ethan smirked.
"I'll keep that in mind for next year," Noah sighed, giving in. "But tonight? No porn."
"It's not too late."
"It's kind of late, actually, almost midnight," Noah muttered without thinking. "Wait, what?"
"What?" Ethan looked genuinely surprised, and for a second, Noah wondered if he'd misunderstood Thomson. Maybe he was trying too hard to find something in Ethan's words again.
"If you don't like it, just say so, okay?" Morgan warned, gripping the edge of the white cloth. When he'd first started working on the painting, the idea seemed brilliant. Now, though, he was second-guessing everything. To stop himself from spiraling any further, Noah took the cloth off in one dramatic motion.
"Oh…" was all Ethan said, his eyes locked on the canvas. He didn't add another word, just kept silently scanning the deliberately rough brushstrokes.
"N-not so great, huh?" Noah finally broke the heavy silence after less than a minute. Ethan didn't respond. He was still staring. Then he took a step forward and reached out, fingertips barely grazing the layers of carefully blended paint. He shifted his weight slightly to the right, then to the left, almost as if he was studying something three-dimensional rather than a flat canvas.
"How?" Ethan forced the question, as if it was stuck in his throat.
"Facebook," Noah mumbled, hesitating. Had he crossed a line? It definitely felt like it. But whether it was a good or bad thing… that was still unclear.
"Have you ever thought about how many dead people there are on social media?" Ethan's voice was low and distant. The words sent a chill down Noah's spine.
"I have now," he muttered under his breath.
"The creepiest thing is… when you open up their profile, it still feels like they're here. Like any second they'll pop online, post something new, or send you a message," Ethan said, pressing his palm gently to the painting. "But none of that will ever happen. Waiting is pointless. The person is gone."
Okay, he had definitely crossed a line. Noah should never have painted Ethan's mom. He shouldn't have gone digging through old photos in articles about a much younger Michael Thomson. He shouldn't have found her Facebook page and used a picture taken on some warm summer day, while searching through grainy newspaper clippings. That soft smile. The sky-blue blouse. Laughter was still dancing in her eyes.
"Sorry," Noah blurted, already reaching to cover the painting back up. "I wasn't trying to hit a nerve—"
"Don't," Ethan said quickly, grabbing Noah's wrist and holding it tight. "You did an amazing job. She looks… she looks alive," he said, voice catching a little. Only now did he finally look at Morgan. "Thank you. Seriously. I never would've thought…" Ethan shook his head slightly. "It's… it's a really great gift."
"So… you like it?" Noah asked, letting out a breath of relief.
"I really like it," Ethan nodded.
"Then why do you look so tense?"
"Not tense," Ethan corrected. "Stunned."
"How's that different?"
"Oh, it is," he nodded again, still holding onto Noah's wrist the entire time. "You… you actually… painted her."
"More like copied from a photo," Noah said, a bit too quickly, earning himself a look of disapproval.
"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but… in this case, wording doesn't matter," Ethan replied. Under the weight of his gaze, Noah suddenly felt like he wanted to bend his back or just lie down on the floor and disappear.
"Will you let go of my hand?"
"I'm not sure. Should I?"
"I'd like to be able to move around the room," Noah said with a smile, gently trying to twist his wrist free. No luck.
"You can do that with me."
"Do what exactly?"
"Move around the room."
Noah couldn't help rolling his eyes.
"Ethan, let's maybe skip the wordplay kink just for tonight," he said, laughing.
"Are you sure the kink you're thinking of is my fault?"
Was Ethan really implying that Noah was just imagining it all? Reading into things that weren't there? No way! Noah shot him a mock frown, but Ethan was already staring back at the painting again, like he was seeing something in it that even the artist hadn't caught. Taking advantage of the distraction, Noah tried again to pull his hand free but instead got a light shove to the chest. He didn't expect it at all, so he tumbled backward onto the bed. Noah winced, feeling something small and round dig into his back. One of the cat's silicone toys, probably. He would've reached to get it out, but Thomson loomed over him suddenly, pinning him in place with that sharp, unreadable stare.
"Thank you," came Ethan's low voice. Noah felt goosebumps rise on his arms. Something in the way he said it, which was in a totally ordinary tone, still hit differently. Noah couldn't explain it. But he felt it deep inside him.
"You're w—
Ethan cut him off by running his tongue over Noah's lips, swallowing the rest of his hesitant reply. Noah froze. So did Ethan, leaning back just slightly. The silence between them was sharp, the closeness overwhelming. Noah could smell Ethan's cologne. It all created this strange, weighty atmosphere, like the air itself had thickened, pressing against his skin. There was this slow, humming tension building under it all, dragging out every second.
Noah felt like they stayed like that forever, eye to eye, trying to see past the surface, to understand something about each other without words. It was a strange feeling. Morgan felt like he was standing on the edge of the bridge with one foot lifted off the ground, holding it there in midair, not quite ready to fall. To fall right into the pit of Thomson's eyes. The pit was calling him. But it still kept just enough distance so that Morgan would have to cross it on his own.
He threaded his fingers through Ethan's hair, which was a lot easier to do than through his own messy curls. Thomson didn't move. While Noah was drowning in those eyes, Ethan was caught up in something else entirely. Noah decided not to break the tension with something dumb, like, 'Are you planning to stare at me all night?' Or one of his terrible jokes, 'You're looking at me like Hannibal Lecter looks at Will Graham.' Words felt useless right now. Being said out loud, they would break into pointless little sounds, shattering from the tension built between the guys. Silence said more than enough. Ethan and Noah understood everything just fine while being silent. Or maybe they understood even more than they could in a dialogue.
Noah pressed on the back of Ethan's head lightly, a wordless request for him to lean in. Thomson didn't move. Noah wouldn't have dared to ask again, except for the tiny smile twitching at the corners of Ethan's mouth. So he tried once more. And this time, Ethan let himself fall forward. The kiss started as a soft and hesitant one but quickly melted into something deeper and hotter. A slow burn that lit up Noah from the inside out. Ethan knew exactly what he was doing with his tongue. Noah couldn't stop the moan that escaped his throat. That tight, nervous energy vanished in an instant. Noah gave in, meeting Ethan's hungry, messy kisses with growing confidence. His arms wrapped tighter around Ethan's neck. His knees pressed to Ethan's sides. His body pushed instinctively closer, all hesitation gone. Ethan's mom used to call him a wolf cub, definitely for a reason. The sharpness of his pointed teeth was real. Noah felt it the second Ethan tugged at his lower lip and bit down. It hurt, just enough to matter, but instead of pulling him out of the moment, it shoved him deeper into it. It made Morgan's pulse race. It made everything else drop away. Noah kissed Ethan again, harder this time, not bothering to think if he was being too much, too forward, or too fast. He didn't care. He was done worrying about what Ethan might think, or what this might mean, or what came next. He let it all go. All the overthinking, all the nerves. He let the ffeeling take control. In that moment, everything felt perfect. And for once, he let himself just enjoy it.
"Mmf—Morgan, stop," Ethan suddenly pushed Noah back, pulling away fast. Morgan went still. What had he done wrong? Had he misunderstood something? That kiss, it wasn't some casual morning peck or a sweet hello after time apart. It wasn't a thank-you kiss, either. That kiss meant something bigger. And Noah felt it was a crime to stop now.
"I should've done this yesterday… Okay, wait… First…" Ethan, flustered in a way that was honestly kind of funny, slid off the bed and reached for the bag he'd brought. Noah, now sitting up, glanced down at his zipper and sighed heavily. Well, some things just had to be accepted.
Ethan climbed back onto the bed and handed Noah a stack of crumpled papers, looking all serious. Thomson could've looked intimidating, if not for the faint flush on his face from all the kissing, which kind of killed the vibe and made him look, unfairly, even more charming.
"What's this?"
"Read."
Noah took the papers and scanned the first one. Then the second. Still confused, he moved on to the third, and that's when his throat tightened. Then the fourth. And fifth.
"Why are you showing me these?" Noah asked hoarsely.
"So you know everything's fine."
"I do know that everything's fine," Morgan said, feeling suddenly irritated. Did Ethan really think Noah needed medical records to be convinced Thomson wasn't carrying HIV, hepatitis, syphilis, or God knows what else?
"An extra layer of proof from a former narc never hurts," Ethan said flatly.
"Yeah? Well, what about me then? I don't have any 'extra proof' to show you." Noah threw up his hands in frustration. They were so close… They could… Were they going to stop everything over a lack of paperwork? Sure, Ethan's logic made sense. Kind of. But this wasn't a one-night stand with a stranger from a dating app. In Noah's mind, the thing that was happening between them had already moved way past that line into something built on real trust. As naive or stupid as that might sound. But Ethan's move felt calculated and cold. Like the feelings involved were second to the checklist.
"You don't need that kind of proof," Ethan sighed, resting a hand on Noah's knee.
"Well, neither do you!" Noah snapped, smacking the stack of papers onto the bed.
"Maybe not," Ethan admitted. "But I needed to make sure that you know it," he pushed the papers slowly toward the corner of the bed, like a cat nudging a glass toward the edge of the table just to watch it fall. The stack slid off and scattered across the floor. And Ethan looked completely unbothered, just like some cat would've looked.
"That's not fair," Noah muttered, staring down. "I should've gotten tested too, then…" His thoughts started to spiral again. If any of Morgan's haters ever caught him walking out of a clinic like that, they'd post about it in the anonymous chat right away.
"It's too late to be thinking about that now."
"Why not?"
Ethan's hand slid up Noah's thigh from his knee, stopped just short of his groin, and settled on the waistband of his sweatpants. He hooked a finger under the bow-tied string of the pants and loosened the knot.
"Because I don't want to wait any longer."
Noah didn't want to wait either. He hesitated for half a second and then lunged forward so fast that what was supposed to be a kiss turned into a clack on the teeth. Ethan swore under his breath, licking his split lip. Noah should've apologized, but his mind just snapped. His thoughts were a mess. His ears rang with the pounding of his pulse. Ethan opened his mouth to say something, but Noah shut him up with another kiss. Taken off guard, Ethan leaned back, but Noah didn't let him get far and caught his lips anyway. Kissing Ethan felt amazing. Kissing Ethan on a bed felt even better. Kissing Ethan on a bed, late on an autumn night with the lights turned low? Yeah. That was amazing. Stunned by how persistent Noah was, Ethan flopped onto his back. Morgan climbed on top of him, straddling his stomach, and tugged his T-shirt off in one motion. Ethan just stared up at him like he was the Eighth Wonder of the World. Noah felt like he was burning from the inside. His skin was buzzing. His nerves stretched so tight they were about to snap. Ethan was right there: warm and completely caught off guard by how fast things were moving.
Morgan trailed kisses down Thomson's neck, catching a lingering scent of his cologne, which felt new, but not in a bad way. His lips landed on hot skin. His hands slipped under Ethan's shirt without asking. Ethan said something, but Noah didn't catch a single word, fully taken away by the fact that he was finally touching him and letting himself chase even a fraction of the stuff that he had been imagining in his head over and over again, the stuff he had been drawing in his sketchbook… And only a sharp, sudden pain from Thomson pulling his hair snapped him out of that possession. Ethan was the one to do it to Morgan.
"…cats," Thomson muttered.
"What do you want to do with the cats?" Noah blinked, trying to catch up to what Ethan had meant.
"Not me. You need to close the cats!"
Ethan nodded his head toward the other side of the bed. Peanut and Fluffy turned out to be just a couple of feet away from them, staring at Noah and Ethan. Peanut looked mildly intrigued. But Fluffy… His back was arched, ears flattened, and fur puffed. The cat looked seconds away from launching himself into battle.
"Oh, yeah, maybe," Noah breathed out, still trying to get his heart rate under control. Thomson looked calm enough on the outside, but sitting on top of him, Noah could tell it wasn't that simple.
Noah scooped up alarmed Fluffy, while Ethan turned his attention to Peanut. They both got off the bed and carried the cats into the bathroom.
"Let's leave the light on for them."
"Okay."
"Oh, wait, I'll grab their water bowls."
"Okay."
"And their favorite beds."
"Okay…"
"And their toys."
"Of course, Morgan. And bring a week's worth of food, since clearly we're not leaving this bed until next Friday."
"Wait, wh-what?"
"That was sarcasm, Morgan," Ethan sighed, rolling his eyes. "Your cats are going to be fine," he added, locking the bathroom door. An immediate growl from Fluffy came from behind the door as soon as Thomson did it. Noah hated to admit it, but the cats had kind of killed the vibe. However, there was still an opportunity to fix it, wasn't it?
Ethan leaned his shoulder against the bathroom door, arms crossed, and gave Noah a look that could only be described as suspicious.
"You do know you don't have to try that hard, right?"
"Try?" Noah blinked. "Try what, exactly?" Thomson studied his face for a few more seconds.
"So this isn't…" Ethan didn't finish the phrase.
"Isn't what?" Noah frowned.
"So, apparently, you can show your temper not only when you're mad, huh?"
"What does that even have to do with my temper?" Noah wasn't following. His head was still buzzing from the fading emotions.
"I see…" Ethan said with weird intonation.
"What do you see?" Noah snapped, losing patience.
"Everything."
5' 3"
Well. Holy shit, that was one hell of a plot twist. No, Ethan didn't expect Noah to just sit there blushing, staring at the floor, or hiding his face in his hands from embarrassment. Okay, that was actually what Ethan had pictured in the beginning. He even came up with a whole plan: first he'd calm Noah down, get him to relax, and then slowly, gently help him open up. But what he got in return was… something else entirely. Apparently, the only person who needed to loosen up here was Ethan himself. He wasn't scared off or disappointed by the wave of raw emotion that had just slammed into him, no. He was just kind of…
…stunned.
Morgan's first burst of enthusiasm had probably come out more from impulse than intent, driven by pure adrenaline. Otherwise, the guy was still the picture of innocence, holding five pounds of sexual TNT. Locking the cats away had snapped him out of it a little, and now he stood near the bathroom door, clearly unsure what to do with himself. But Ethan had seen enough to know: once you get him back in bed, the only challenge would be to think about what to do next.
"Come here," Ethan said, reaching out a hand. Morgan, with that same awkwardness that now struck Ethan as somehow…different, slipped his hand into Ethan's and let himself be led back to the room. Thomson sat him down on the bed, then turned back to his bag. It didn't just hold clothes and test results. Moving with the calm of someone completely in control, Thomson pulled out what he needed and laid it out neatly along the edge of the mattress. Noah chewed on his bottom lip, looking at everything.
"And what are the gloves for?"
"Hygiene."
"Ohhh…" Morgan murmured, still taking stock of the setup.
"Is something wrong?" Ethan asked, easing Noah down onto his back, though staying alert, because Noah Morgan was a goddamn ticking time bomb.
"I… uh… no, it's fine. Just…"
"Just?"
"I thought you'd bring ropes," Noah blurted. Ethan raised his left eyebrow.
"Rope? For your first time? Don't you think that's a little too much?"
Of course Ethan had brought ropes… But there was no intention of tying anyone up tonight.
Noah shrugged his shoulders.
"Or did you want me to bring them?" Ethan continued.
"I… uh… I don't know," Noah admitted honestly. Without a word, Thomson pulled a bundle of short red rope segments from the bag and tossed it onto the bed. He picked one out, looped it gently around Noah's neck, and tied a loose bow right under the Adam's apple.
"Doesn't really look like shibari," Morgan noted, swallowing without meaning to. The rope shifted against his Adam's apple as he did.
"It's just decoration, Morgan. It's my birthday, after all. And gifts are meant to be wrapped."
"So I'm your present now?" Noah gave a nervous little laugh. "Bit of a questionable one," he muttered under his breath, crawling closer to the center of the bed and eyeing Ethan expectantly.
"The best one," Thomson disagreed. "And you don't get to judge my presents," he added, settling between Noah's legs.
He thought the preparation would be the hardest part. Then it turned out that the real problem was different. Morgan had no self-control whatsoever and looked like he could explode at any second. Ethan was worried that might rub off on him, and he couldn't afford to lose focus. Not tonight. Thomson had to keep a clear head. He couldn't afford a misstep.
Okay, Ethan. You've done self-control before. You've got this.
Apparently, Morgan had no intention of wasting time. He took off the rest of his clothes in one swift move. Ethan blinked, tracking the flight path of sweatpants and underwear as they landed somewhere near the desk.
Or maybe fucking not!
"You're being too fucking impatient!" Ethan blurted as Noah dropped into his lap and wrapped his arms around his neck. The sea-colored eyes staring back at him were showing some clear signs of a storm warning. The waves were crashing straight into pitch-black pupils. The pressure on his neck increased.
"Try not to push your luck," Ethan said, more plea than warning. But Morgan didn't seem to listen. The kiss burned Ethan's neck. The teeth clenched on his neck. A moment later, Ethan felt Morgan lift up his shirt. He didn't resist. The T-shirt came off. The turtleneck, too. It hadn't even hit the floor before Morgan was pressing into him again. Another deep, breath-stealing kiss didn't keep anyone waiting. Morgan was relentless, grinding into Thomson's stomach with his penis without a hint of hesitation.
Jesus fucking Christ!
Ethan turned his face away from the next kiss, trying to hold on to some shred of clarity. But Morgan decided to bite into his collarbone instead. Ethan tried to guide him gently onto his back, but Noah wouldn't budge. He straddled Ethan's hips, grinding down just right so Ethan's boner, pressing tight against the fabric of his shorts, landed perfectly between Noah's butt cheeks. This was getting to be too much. With a grunt of frustration, Ethan gripped Noah's thighs and lifted him off abruptly and then dropped him, not so gently anymore, back onto the bed. Of course, Morgan tried to bounce right back up, but Ethan didn't let him. He shoved him down with a firm hand to the chest.
"Don't fucking move," Ethan growled, trying to calm that storm. It seemed pointless. His voice was drowned out by Noah's emotional hurricane. Noah reached for his shorts anyway, and Thomson had no other choice but to grab his wrists and pin them to the mattress above his head.
"Behave the same way and you'll end up with your hands tied," Ethan warned.
"I don't mind," Noah shot back.
Of course he didn't mind. It was obvious.
"Too much freedom turns people into animals."
"I like animals."
Morgan was definitely testing Thomson!
"Oh, that's…" Morgan finally noticed the medallion swinging from Ethan's neck as he leaned over him.
"Sobriety chip. Yeah," Ethan confirmed, his fingers brushing the metal, still warm from his body. Noah reached out for it, but Ethan shifted back before he could grab the chain. "I said don't move," Ethan snapped, tightening his grip on Noah's thighs just above the groin. Morgan propped himself up on his elbows, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His eyes were bright, his hair damp and clinging to his neck. The storm had somehow quietened, thanks to Ethan's control. The question now was: for how long?
"I don't think…" Morgan started.
"Then don't think," Ethan cut him off, moving lower. The floral scent of soap and the smell of sexual excitement hit his nose. The sharp edge of it landed heavy in his gut, heavier than before. But somehow Thomson still managed to control himself. Noah dropped back onto the bed and kept his hands to himself. Good. Because if he tried again, he might've noticed Ethan was shaking. Keeping a calm exterior was getting harder by the second. His neck still stung from Morgan's earlier kisses, a pulsing reminder of a side of him Ethan hadn't expected. Foreplay was never Ethan's strength. Lucky for him, Morgan didn't seem to need much of it. He was already turned on easily. Thomson licked his lips, then slowly ran his tongue along Noah's penis, tuning in to both Noah's response and his own. Morgan covered his flushed face with his forearms and let out a low whimper, his legs falling wider open without him realizing it. Interesting.
How fast can your mood change once you're in bed?
Thank God Ethan was in charge, at least for now. That made it easier to handle everything.
He took Noah deep from the start but did it slowly. He wasn't trying to make him cum just from a blowjob. Not yet. He just wanted to calm Morgan's eagerness a little, taking back full control. And then, get the satisfaction of doing what he'd wanted for a long damn time. His lips moved slowly, deliberately, drawing soft moans of pleasure from Noah's throat.
Without taking his eyes off Morgan, Ethan reached for the gloves and lube. Noah relaxed. His forearms slid down from his face to the top of his head. Morgan was showing an unreal kind of openness, as if he wasn't feeling a shred of fear before his first sexual experience. He probably wasn't even thinking about what was supposed to come next, completely caught up in the feeling of lips and tongue working their way slowly down his shaft and back up again in steady, unhurried passes. But the second Ethan slid a finger inside him, Noah's forearms shot back over his face.
"Relax, Morgan. It's just one finger," Ethan murmured, his breath warm against Noah's lower stomach, though he could already hear the tremor creeping into his own voice. Sparks lit up behind his eyes. Staying in control was burning through way too much of his mental reserve. He was scared he might back out at the last second. Or that Noah would. He was scared that pressure in his throat would crack something open inside him and touch on bare skin would feel like razors. He was scared it would all end up clumsy and awkward, and they'd spend the next week avoiding each other's eyes and pretending it never happened. But none of that happened. All those fears vanished like they were never there. The only one that stuck around, less loud now but still present, was the fear of hurting him. That's why Ethan wasn't rushing, unlike Noah. That's why he wouldn't let himself fall into the process too fast. He needed to keep at least one foot on solid ground, even if that ground was starting to melt beneath him under the weight of how horny he was.
Ethan squeezed out more lube and added a second finger. Noah tried to pull his knees in instinctively, which earned him a dissatisfied grunt from Ethan. To keep that from happening again, Ethan shifted forward, slid his left arm under Noah's lower back, and braced himself with his shoulder. The angle changed slightly, and his fingers pushed in deeper than planned. Noah hissed, teeth clenched tight.
"Does it hurt?" Ethan asked.
"N-no," Noah breathed out. That voice of his… God, that beautiful voice.
The third finger joined the others, maybe a bit sooner than it should've, but even patience had its limits. And Ethan wasn't the only one reaching his.
"I… I think that's enough," Noah panted. "Come on…"
The demanding tone of his low voice clearly showed that the next storm was already flashing on the horizon.
"Just one more second," Ethan muttered, crawling up higher, pressing hot kisses to Noah's pale skin and leaving faint hickeys behind. Noah's hands found Ethan's shoulders, and the higher Ethan moved, the lower Noah's fingers slid. By the time Ethan's lips reached the red rope at Noah's throat, Noah had already grabbed the waistband of his shorts. He lunged forward and kissed Ethan hard, dragging the shorts and underwear down with him in one rough move. Getting them off all the way took some work, mostly because Morgan wouldn't stop the kiss; his tongue was everywhere, not giving Ethan even a second to breathe. Thomson's fingers were still inside him. Ethan shivered every time Noah touched him with his cold fingers, like they were small electric shocks. It also didn't help the steadiness of the situation.
"So… Morgan…"
But Noah was already starting to drift again, and God only knew what he'd do next. Ethan needed a distraction. Fast.
"If you're in a hurry, then help me out. My hand's kinda busy," he said, holding the condom in his left hand and hoping to get Noah to focus on something specific. Morgan grabbed the shiny wrapper right away. His fingers were trembling so badly it took him a few tries to tear it open.
"You've got it upside down, Morgan."
"Oh. Right."
Ethan pulled his fingers out of him, took off the glove, and tossed it aside. Morgan went quiet, watching Ethan and waiting.
"You tell me immediately if anything feels wrong," Ethan said, slipping a hand under Noah's right thigh and pulling him in closer.
"Yeah, yeah… Okay…"
"No sacrifices, got it?"
"Ethan, just do it already!" Morgan snapped, frowning in a rather funny way.
It wasn't that easy, though. Putting it in wasn't the hard part. The hard part would be not to lose your mind after you do that. Ethan leaned over Noah, close enough to watch Morgan's face, and only then pushed into him. Morgan was looking at him with so much intensity it was like he didn't even care what was going on below the waist. The second thrust didn't get much of a reaction either, but after the third, Noah flinched. Just a little.
"Morgan, I said—"
"Just shut up and keep going," Noah cut him off, grabbing Ethan by the back of the neck and pulling him down. "And kiss me," he whispered, biting Ethan's lower lip. Thomson had to hold it together.
He had to…
But whatever scraps of rational thought he had left were fading fast. The guy he'd wanted for so damn long was right here. Under him. Kissing him. Holding on to him. Taking every inch of him. Whispering in his ear with that soft, wrecked voice, begging for more. Come on, Ethan. Just let go. Stop overthinking. It's just the two of you, nose to nose, tangled up in heat and kisses, moving to the soft creak of the bed. Lost in the madness of giving in, pushed forward by something reckless and irrational and so full of trust it was dizzying. Every touch, every press, every moan was another way of learning each other's bodies. Ethan didn't even realize when he picked up the pace. Didn't clock the moment Morgan started arching into him, syncing with every movement. All he could hear was Noah's voice, shaky and breathless, spilling out between exhaled moans.
Ethan, slow down. Take it easy. Steady and smooth, okay? No sudden moves.
How could he possibly take it slow when Morgan was leaving scratches up Ethan's ass like he was trying to leave a permanent signature? It was hard to stay in control when the guy moaning under you is someone you're head over heels for, and the need to be close has long stopped being about just getting physical tension off. It was about proving, again and again, that this thing between them might actually mean something. That it wasn't just some short-term fling you look back on years later with a half-smile and a shrug.
No. This had to be better. This had to be unforgettable so that Morgan wouldn't even think about doing this with anyone else.
Ethan lifted himself up slightly on his arms, wanting to see Morgan's face, to see what it looked like when those sounds left his mouth. But he was searching for something else too. Something you don't catch unless you know what you're looking for. Maybe some sign that Noah felt it too, that he wasn't faking any of this. That it really was as good for him as Ethan needed it to be. Morgan was clearly demonstrating the fumes of passion. Sometimes he was all fire and chaos, dragging Ethan along. Then he'd burn out and hand control right back over to Ethan like it had never left. And somehow, all of it felt right. Like this wasn't the first time they'd done this, like they already knew each other inside and out.
"Ugh…" Morgan winced as the medallion swinging on Ethan's chain smacked him in the nose.
"Shit… sorry," Ethan muttered, biting down on the coin to keep it out of the way.
His hands didn't stop sliding over sweaty skin, feeling every shift. His thrusts were getting deeper now, more demanding. Somewhere outside, a car alarm started wailing. From the bathroom came the high-pitched meowing of pissed-off cats. But right here, right at his ear, the only thing Ethan could focus on was the rising volume of Morgan's ragged, breathless moans. The physical feelings were tangled up tight with the emotional, pulsing low in his gut like a live wire.
"Why did you bring… the rope, though?" Noah gasped out. He was probably just trying to buy himself a moment to breathe. Ethan could use one too; his body hadn't seen this kind of workout in a while. Well… They'd both be building stamina day after day from now on.
Ethan shifted to a sitting position without pulling out from Noah and reached for the bundle.
"I brought it in case you… wanted to get creative," he said between shallow breaths, wiping sweat from his forehead. The bundle was made up of separate pieces of rope, which he held up for Morgan to see. "Like this," Ethan added, pressing Noah's knees toward his chest in one sharp move. Morgan twitched from the sudden repositioning, a little shudder running through him. Ethan worked quickly, tying both ankles tight like thick rope bracelets. Then another two lengths were cinched around Morgan's thighs just above the groin. No knots, no patterns, just functional restraints. Noah watched silently as his wrists and upper arms were bound the same way.
"I don't totally get it…" he admitted, frowning at the rope around his wrist.
"Now imagine that it's not the rope holding you in place," Ethan said, slipping the medallion back between his teeth.
"Huh?"
"Yeah."
"I'm not doing that!"
"It's up to you," Ethan shrugged, deciding the break was over anyway.
… But of course, there was no way Noah was getting that idea out of his head now. And the storm that began after that fantasy blew everything away.
Dear readers!
Due to health and family-related reasons, the translator has taken some personal time. We hope and rely on your understanding and see you in several months!