i changed my user from @/fireworksinthesky for anyone wondering. and i legitimately don’t remember any of my previous handles i’m sorry
i’m highly inactive on this blog except to send asks as everything i post, i post on my side blog now & have been for a while ( you can dm me if you’re interested in my bad omens content but be aware it contains rpf )
if i end up making a comeback, i’ll rebrand this blog, but i haven’t felt inspired to write for the dc, marvel, or criminal minds fandoms for a minute. sorry to anyone who’s dissapointed but my past works won’t be making a reappearance here. they’re gone for good i’m afraid
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Tumblr is rolling out a new reblog/notes system that completely disregards creators. In their new system, they're taking a twitter-style approach where reblogs will have their own notes that DO NOT contribute to the original post's notes.
Because of this, creators will no longer be able to see an accurate display of likes/reblogs/etc. This is completely altering the way feedback and responses to works are going to be received on this website.
If you come across a fan work that you enjoy, please take the extra step to go to OPs original post, and leave your comment/like/reblog there. Or go one step further and send an ask to OP directly to tell them what you liked!
I really hope Tumblr staff reverses course and reverts to the original reblog system for the sake of the large base of creators who use this site to share their works, but until then, please be considerate and make sure the creators here see/feel the love.
GIRL. I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!!!! I HOPE YOU LOVE IT
for anyone wondering, I recommended this trilogy to V, and honestly I can’t recommend it more. I just finished it and gosh did it make me feel all the feelings. it’s a romantasy inspired by Japanese mythology and folklore and it’s for the slow burn girlies like myself because the arc over the span of the three books is absolutely INSANE. add to that a genuinely strong female lead and *chefs kiss*
^ the above version is basically the one I have and there’s even illustrations and they’re gorgeous
but this all started because I wanted a read like her ‘Unmaking of a Warrior’ and was in absolute despair to feel something ~ HAHAHA
pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem reader x Nick Folio
word count: 7.2k
warnings: fdom/msub dynamics. sexual content. sending nsfw pictures over text. phone sex. mutual masturbation. orgasm denial (m). panty stealing. oral (m receiving). Nick is a bit of a voyeur. he walks in on you twice. Nick shotguns smoke from a joint into your mouth while you and Noah are having sex. multiple orgasms (m). a smidge of overstim. Nick jerking off into reader’s panties. hinting at a future poly relationship.
the following work is rpf. reader discretion is advised. 18+
author’s note: hi hi hi it’s @somebodyels3 here posting on my main blog because guess what?... my side blog is still shadowbanned 😖 but never fear because the second installment of my poly au is here!!!!! little do you know we’re just getting started!!! thanks @concretejunglefm for being one of my biggest cheerleaders when it comes to them <3 mentally already at their wedding
and, as always, kisses for my beloved wifey and beta @broken0mens xoxo 🩷 you encourage me to keep writing
part 1 (Room 308) | part 3 (You Could Start A Cult)
header by me, divider: silent-stories
5 months later…
<Fish Boy> Just to clarify, Noah’s not allowed to touch himself without your permission, right?
you know Folio knows full well he’s not. texting you out of the blue like this only means he’s looking to stir up trouble.
the most you’ve messaged back and forth is a happy birthday here, a ‘congrats on the album’ there. your last text was almost two months ago.
<you> have a good tour. keep an eye on Noah for me.
<Fish Boy> thx. will do
but you suppose everything changed the night you and Noah got together. you saw the way he looked at you the next morning, with rapt fascination, the curiosity of someone who had seen a door crack open and couldn’t stop wondering what it would feel like to step through.
<you> right…
<Fish Boy> Does he have your permission right now? Because he just excused himself to the bathroom and I’m pretty sure he’s jorking it.
you’d just sent Noah some rather revealing photos in the new lingerie you’d bought, and you fight a smile knowing they had the desired effect.
it wasn’t even just about the way it made you look; it was about how it made you feel. powerful. sexy.
it was as if in wearing it you unlocked a side of yourself—the confident, badass woman who knew exactly what she wanted. she had always been there, but it was Noah who helped you fully embrace her, and you couldn’t wait to show her off.
you knew he was out to dinner with the guys, it being one of their off days, but you’d pressed send on the pictures anyway.
you’d watched the bubbles appear, how he seemed to be typing for an eternity before they dropped away leaving one word: read. his lack of a response can only mean one thing. you’ve got him exactly where you want him.
<you> are you trying to get him in trouble?
<Fish Boy> I don’t know what you mean.
…
but, hypothetically… if he were in trouble, what would happen?
<you> hypothetically, he’d have to be punished. he knows the rules. and what happens if he breaks them.
he’s already got his cock in hand when your name pops up on his screen.
<you> hi, sweet boy. you staying out of trouble?
fuck.
you knew.
of course you knew.
not that he was trying to hide it. not really.
he would’ve told you anyway. he always does. it wasn’t about getting away with it.
he never really wanted to. sooner or later, he’d end up handing over the leash, giving himself up to you like he always does.
<Sweet Boy> I’m guessing you know the answer to that question.
a second later you’re requesting to FaceTime him, and he knows better than to ignore it. he’ll only be in deeper shit if he doesn’t answer.
when he picks up, he’s practically panting, breathing heavily over the phone, cheeks flushed a suspicious shade of pink. you don’t have to wonder what he was up to; he knows just how guilty he looks.
and yet, even through the screen, and as many times as you’ve called in the time he’s been gone, the sight of him still hits you hard. you feel a sharp pang of longing knowing he’s on the other side of the ocean right now.
the only thing keeping you from being there with him, from having accompanied them on the European leg of their tour, is your job, and it only allows enough time off to join them when they’re in the states.
“I was going to tell you,” he murmurs breathlessly.
you know he was without him needing to say it—you know him better than anyone—but you play dumb, letting him contemplate the consequences of his actions long enough to begin to regret them. knowing him, more so the consequences than the actions, the good boy vying with the brat in him. “I guess we’ll never know.” you cock your head like you’re deciding what, exactly, to do with him. “I’m judging you have enough privacy if you thought you could sneak away to disobey me.”
Noah’s face falls. he hates being in the dog house.
you continue before he can even try to defend himself. “did the pictures I sent you get you all hot and bothered?” your lips curl knowingly. you’re not actually upset, far from it.
it’s all a facade. you’re flattered. it’s exactly the reaction you were hoping for.
“by all means, don’t stop on my account. I’ve been worked up all day thinking about you and what we’d be doing if you were here right now to see this in person. almost debated keeping my new purchase a secret, but where’s the fun in that?
“go ahead, baby,” you croon. “touch yourself. I know you want to.” your voice is so syrupy sweet that he finds himself wondering if you’re guiding him into a trap. still, he drifts closer, a willing fly into your spider’s web.
“I bet your tip’s leaking.” you practically salivate at the thought. at the mess you’ve made of him. “show me.”
he knows it’s not that easy. you’re not one to forget disobedience so quickly. there must be a catch, but the thought falls to the back of his mind as the sight of you in baby pink silk pushes to the forefront.
he shyly meets your gaze through the phone as he balances it on the bathroom counter, allowing you a magnificent view of his perfectly hard cock, barely freed from the confines of his boxers pushed haphazardly down around his thighs and already glistening at the tip.
you delight in the fact that it’s because of you. you did this to him.
“I miss that pretty cock,” you murmur forlornly, and it practically twitches in response, as if echoing your sentiment.
“tease it for me.” the command has him hurrying to do as you say. “there you go, tease all the precum out. you know how I touch you, milk every drop.”
he squeezes around the tip like your own hand has so many times, head falling back, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, hard. you always set an almost torturous pace, and having to adhere to it takes a tremendous amount of discipline on his part, but his efforts are rewarded with a beautiful, shining bead of precum.
“you’re so quiet,” you pout. “what? you don’t want anyone to hear what a lovely little slut you are for me?”
he lets out a soft whine at that, subtly shifting his hips.
“I miss your sounds, too,” you remark wistfully.
“shit. are you touching yourself?” Noah groans as your wet sounds echo through the phone.
“they’re not as good as yours, but…”
you angle the camera downward toward where your fingers have sunk inside you to the knuckle, panties pushed to the side. he gets an eyeful of the lingerie that started this whole thing, and it leaves very little to the imagination, not that he hasn’t seen it all before. fallen to his knees and cherished every detail.
“fuck, you’re still wearing it,” he whines loudly, his eyes raking over every inch visible to him with blatant, palpable hunger that warms every bit it touches.
“you like it?”
understatement of the year.
“you look like a goddess.”
“feel like one too.” you grin giddily, like the cat that caught the canary. “if you were here, I’d have you take it off with your teeth.”
more precum dribbles down from his slit, and he uses the slickness of it to lubricate his length as he settles his hand at the base, trying to stave off his orgasm temporarily.
“fuck.”
he’s trembling.
“Noah. puppy.” you hear his rapid breathing as he resumes. “are you gonna come?”
you can tell he’s close by the way he not only speeds up his movements but also fucks into his hand. as if his hand could ever be a substitute for your cunt clenching down around him.
“shit,” he hisses.
you tsk. “I didn’t say you could. stop,” you bark, startling him into obediently dropping his cock. precum clings to his thigh in a lustrous string. meanwhile, you have a front row seat to his quivering stomach and shaky legs.
“please? can I?” he begs, hoping the sound of his desperation will sway you.
“so now you know how to ask permission?” and Noah knows you’re not referring to just now, but when he slipped into the bathroom with the intention of rubbing one out.
“please, I’m sorry, I was going to tell you—”
“after you came? ‘better to ask forgiveness than permission’? baby, you know the rules, and I told you you weren’t allowed to touch yourself. no exceptions. now you’re gonna edge yourself twice more for me.”
he bows his head. “yes, baby.”
his pretty, inked hand is in such contrast with his swollen, purple-pink cock as he obeys, fucking his fist right up to but withholding that sweet release.
both times he begs.
both times you deny him.
“I see you in less than a week,” you remind him, voice sweet but firm. “no touching yourself, no coming. I know you still know how to follow instructions.”
a beat passes.
“hey, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about my favorite pair of panties going missing, would you?” he knows the ones: black with the pink bow.
he shakes his head.
“okay. I love you, baby. be good.”
“I’m always good.”
you shoot him a look through the phone.
“best behavior, I swear,” he holds up his pinkie in a promise to the camera before his expression softens into something yearning. “I miss you.”
“six days.”
you blow him a kiss and end the call, and he rests on his arms against the counter, taking a moment to try and compose himself. to think about anything other than the way that fabric hugged your every curve as he wills his erection to go down.
when he finally shoulders the door open, he practically takes out Folio in the process.
Nick barely sidesteps in time, hands raised in mock defense.
“are you fucking kidding me, man?” Noah hisses, just loud enough for him to hear. “you ratted me out?”
he doesn’t wait for a response. “you like what you heard?” he taunts, a knowing smirk ghosting across his lips.
he leans in, close enough that Nick can feel the heat of him. “watch your back, man.”
he’s gone a second later, brushing past like nothing happened.
neither you nor Noah waste any time the moment you have a second alone on the tour bus. it’s been over a month since you’ve last seen each other, the coast is finally clear, and you’re falling into the back living room area of the tour bus, closing the door behind you with hushed giggles.
you’re practically glued to each other the instant it shuts, Noah’s arms wrapping tightly around you and pulling you flush to him. “god, I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
he leans in and buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. you smell like the same body wash he’s been using for weeks now, stolen straight from your shower and stowed away in his tour bag without a word. the same body wash you always reached for during aftercare when you showered together, your hands gently caressing his skin and claiming him as yours.
he’d started using it to feel closer to you, a tether to home when you were miles apart, but, god, if it doesn’t smell so much better on you.
“I hate being on the road.”
“you don’t mean that, silly,” you murmur.
“I do,” he says, lifting his head to look at you, a slight frown on his face. “I mean, I love getting to perform and make music, but I hate being away from you. I miss waking up next to you in the morning, I miss cuddling with you at night... you have no idea how much I’ve thought about you while I’ve been gone.”
“I think I have a little idea,” you allude knowingly, fingers tracing down his clothed chest. “have you been good for me?”
he presses a soft kiss to your neck. “I’ve been keeping my hands to myself, just like you told me to.”
you shoot him a look that says if he’s lying… but he just says, “I swear, baby.”
“well, then you deserve a reward.”
your hands push the hem of his shirt up, revealing his heavily tattooed chest as you kiss your way down it. Noah lets out a low groan at the feeling of your lips, and hands, trailing lower, but helps shuck the tee to the side as you pull down his sweats next.
“I missed you, too, you know.”
you snap the band of his boxers teasingly, eliciting a hiss from him that soon turns into a gasp when you kiss the skin just below his navel. your fingertips skim the edge of the fabric, teasing, before dipping lower, palming him, and then withdrawing entirely.
his whine of protest is cut off when you mouth over his cock in his boxers, your tongue dragging lazily over the fabric, tracing the outline of him as it strains against the cotton.
soon they too come off, his perfect length standing proud in all its glory, and Noah’s eyes glaze over as your tongue swirls around his tip, sucking lightly before taking him deeper, lids fluttering shut at the velvet warmth of your mouth welcoming him in.
it’s bliss until the sound of the door opening shatters it, Noah’s eyes snapping open as Folio stops dead halfway in the frame.
so much for drinks… coast so not fucking clear…
his gaze flicks back and forth between the two of you, alight with curiosity as it hones in on Noah’s hands, which he currently keeps firmly behind his back until told otherwise, Noah’s hand gripping his own wrist as he leans his weight on them. a good fucking boy who knows to let you have your fun and doesn’t need to be restrained.
“jesus christ, you couldn’t wait the two fucking seconds to get a room?”
“what do you call this?” Noah manages to retort, even as dazed as he is given how you continue to devote your full attention to sucking his cock so he sees god [is a woman, aka you].
his slow blink through heavy lashes makes him look downright wrecked. add the soft ‘o’ of his parted lips, and he’s the picture of undone.
Nick bats away the passing thought that he doesn’t know whose position he envies more.
“you mind?” Noah grits out. “either join or get out.”
Nick startles like he’s been slapped, and he backs out fast, muttering something that might’ve been ‘sorry’ or ‘shit’, he’s not even sure, but he doesn’t make it far.
he stops just past the door as he slides it shut, heart hammering, flip-flopping between panic and lust. he shouldn’t listen. he knows that.
and still…
against his better judgment, he stays, back pressed to the wall, pulse roaring in his ears. the sharp edge of your voice carries through the door, low and commanding, followed by Noah… begging.
“fuck. please. I’ve been good. I haven’t touched myself. I haven’t come, just like you told me.” all punctuated by an unmistakably high-pitched falsetto whine. “please.”
he tells himself he shouldn’t be here. shouldn’t want this.
but maybe the whole point is for him to hear.
and, fuck, he does.
he hears
everything.
he hears you finally grant him permission. he hears you coaxing him to go ahead and come for you with sweet praises of ‘good boy’ as you talk him through it. he hears the rustling of fabric as you encourage him to paint your tits in great, long spurts with his cum, accompanied by Noah’s broken whimper as he obeys, still concerned with your pleasure and how he can reciprocate.
in fact, he can almost hear the smirk in Noah’s voice when he says, “I think I know where your underwear went.”
shit.
Noah finds you in the green room after the show that night, full of excess adrenaline that needs out and the afterglow of a successful performance still coursing through his veins. normally he’ll take a cold shower—even if it’s only a temporary fix, a band aid—but you’re here, really here, and now that he’s got you in front of him, he doesn’t want to cool off. he wants to burn until he can’t any longer.
the only relief he wants tonight is the kind you’ll give him.
he’s practically vibrating—flushed, overstimulated,.... one look at him and you know what he needs, even without those soulful brown eyes of his pinning yours and the hint of wildness behind them communicating the restlessness that needs to be quieted. that needs you to quiet it.
“you need somewhere to put that energy, don’t you?”
he nods, his gaze once again asking permission as if trying to wordlessly get you to understand the unbridled need pulsing through him.
“then come here, and show me how good you can be for me.” you arch your neck as if directing him, and he follows, picking up on your cue.
his touch is surprisingly gentle when he firmly presses you with your back against the wall, layers feverishly shed, successfully pinning you as he positions himself at your entrance.
you cling to him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him in closer, and he slides his hands down to grip your thighs as you eagerly hook your legs around his waist, supporting your weight.
when he sinks inside you, Noah sighs into the crook of your neck like he’s just now able to breathe freely for the first time, rocking instinctively and angling his thrusts until you’re crying out at how full you feel.
“there you go, baby,” you coax him with ragged breaths into his shoulder. “get it all out.”
would you believe Nick walks in on you for the second time today?
“for fuck’s sake,” Noah exhales, hot against your neck. “do you ever knock?”
“be nice.” your fingers tangle in Noah’s silver chain necklace, tugging gently.
“my bad. didn’t realize the fucking green room was off limits,” Nick retorts snarkily. “did you ever think about locking the door?” he twirls a drumstick mindlessly in his hand, fidgeting as he mumbles, “thought you’d at least make it to the hotel room this time.”
“yeah yeah… you gonna stick around?” Noah challenges. “because you know if you’re planning on listening in… you might as well watch too.”
Nick stands frozen in place, his face pinkening at Noah’s words, looking caught. he doesn’t miss the way Noah’s body is still caging you up against the wall, or that he’s still inside you, his hips pressed flushed to yours.
Nick’s presence is a surprise, sure, but nothing about Noah’s tone makes him feel unwelcome.
what he doesn’t know is you’ve talked about this scenario since seeing his reaction at the breakfast buffet, and you’re both okay with it. when you and Noah lock eyes, his small nod is all the confirmation you need, the shared understanding passing between you.
“close the door, Nick.”
Noah cradles you close as he carries you over to the nearby couch and sets you down gently, and you protest when his cock slips from you.
“I thought this would be more comfortable for you,” he murmurs. probably offers a better view for your guest, too, but he doesn’t say that.
his attentiveness makes your heart flutter. he leans over you, braced on his forearms, and you lift your head to press a gentle kiss to his lips.
his body hovers mere inches from yours, his warmth radiating against your skin, and anticipation crackles in the air between you as he closes the gap, filling you up once again.
Nick thinks he’s gonna need a hit of something if he’s actually going to sit through this. the two of you wrapped up in each other, him just there. watching. feeling like an intruder amidst such… intimacy.
the shot he took before going on stage has long since worn off.
diagonal to you, Nick sinks into the armchair opposite with a sigh, already fishing out a joint. yeah, he definitely needs to mellow the fuck out.
Noah watches as Nick lights up, taking a long drag off the joint, his eyes fixated on the way your hips move in tandem. he lets out a small cloud of smoke, the room filling with the acrid scent of weed.
“you know if you wanna smoke, you have to go outside,” Noah says.
“you gonna snitch on me?”
wrong choice of words.
Noah scoffs, eyes narrowing. “maybe I should,” he says, clearly still holding a grudge.
“brat.”
“tattle-tale.”
“do I need to separate you two?” you butt in.
“no,” they both say at the same time.
you shake your head, amused. children. you’re dealing with children. “I need a hit of that. shotgun?”
Nick looks at you, then at Noah, his hesitation clear. “I don’t know—is—”
“she wants a hit, let her have a fucking hit.”
“fuck it,” Nick mutters under his breath, closing the space between you before he can lose his nerve.
Noah’s face stays buried in the curve of your shoulder as Nick kneels beside the couch, cupping your face in his hands as he touches his lips to yours, first feather soft, then firmer as he exhales a slow drag of smoke into your mouth. a chapped, barely there brush of his lips like he isn’t sure he’s allowed to want it.
with what you’re sure is a particularly vengeful thrust, Noah has you gasping into his bandmate’s mouth. your hand fists the collar of Nick’s shirt, and when Noah meets your glare, he at least has the decency to look somewhat chastised as he tries to plaster over his smirk now that Nick is clearly flustered.
it’s a work in progress.
god only knows what you’re getting yourself into with these two.
“one hit isn’t enough,” you mumble, only you’re kissing Nick this time, and you’re not sure if the head rush is from the weed or his lips on yours or Noah, whose gentle thrusts have turned feverish.
yeah, there’s an itch you need to be scratched.
right. there.
one hand tangles in Nick’s nape, using him to anchor yourself, as your thigh comes up to cradle Noah’s hip, the nails of your other hand clawing Noah’s back when the newfound angle nudges that perfect spot deep inside of you. he grunts at the feeling of your walls bearing down on him.
even when you let go of Nick to hold Noah tighter, he just rests his head against the side of the armrest, watching you lazily through the haze of smoke.
“that feel good?” Noah croons in your ear.
you keen in answer.
“good.” every snap of his hips ignites a spark of pleasure, a hum of electricity that lights you up from the inside out.
“it’s not too much?”
you can tell he’s still holding back, even now, with your permission. you give a light shake of your head. “give it all to me, baby, it’s okay.” you stroke his hair back from his forehead, which is shining with sweat. a single drop drips from his chain to your chest, and he’s so beautiful, even (and especially) as he abandons all sense of control to fuck you like an animal with thrusts that drag the length of the couch a few inches across the floor.
“you’re making me feel so good,” you praise. “no one makes me feel like you do. fuck, baby.” you tighten around his cock. “want you to put it all on me.”
you tug him down closer until his body is pressed fully against yours, his weight pinning you down, and the feeling of him bracketing you in like this, with strong arms that cage you in on either side, is intoxicating. you arch up, seeking more contact, needing to be even closer, to somehow merge into one, and he responds with a low sound, hips rocking into yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure zinging along your spine. you’re utterly overwhelmed as your hands roam over the firm planes of his back, relishing in the flex of muscle beneath smooth skin as you encourage him to sink further into you.
he obliges, hands sliding down your thighs to lift your ass so his thrusts hit deeper, nudging up against your cervix, and any trace of coherent thought scatters, pushed aside by pure sensation and the undeniable rightness of his body on yours.
when your fingers circle your clit, it’s all you need to push you over the edge. the pressure coils tighter and tighter in your belly until it detonates in starbursts behind your eyelids as your eyes roll back in your head.
“I was so proud of you tonight,” you gasp as you come, holding him there with your legs locked around him as you ride out the high of your orgasm. he falters for a beat as you spasm around him before resuming his thrusts, grinding down against you lightly to afford you some lovely friction on your clit. “20,000 people…” on a headlining tour…
“and all I cared about was you.”
you hug his neck. you can’t help the way you know you flutter around him at the sentiment, an immediate dead giveaway that you’re just as crazy for him as he is for you.
“sweet talker.”
“I mean it,” he murmurs lowly, eyes like molten chocolate.
“I know you do. look at you, turning into such a big sap.” you smile. “I love you, too.” you kiss him, then press your forehead to his.
you want to see how he unravels for you, take in the look on his face when he comes—when his eyes glaze over and he can’t keep from making all manner of pretty sounds.
you can feel the way his cock pulses inside you, still aching for release. in more ways than one.
all he needs is a little encouragement from you.
“let go for me. want you to give it all to me,” you coax gently. “let Nick see how easy it is for my sweet boy to surrender.”
he comes almost instantaneously like he was waiting for your command, practically collapsing on top of you when he does. the shine in his eyes dulls as he finally gives in to exhaustion, and his racing heartbeat finally slows.
his cock twitches inside you, but he doesn’t pull out right away.
he looks… content. finally able to settle.
“there he is.” you stroke his cheek. “better?” you ask.
Noah, unmoving, just looks at you with this open, grateful expression, and Nick thinks he won’t ever forget that look of pure appreciation etched upon his face. he doesn’t have to say it, but he does anyway. “thank you.”
you smile down at him and kiss his temple.
“Nick.” Folio’s ears practically perk. “hand me that.” he follows your finger to the water bottle balanced alongside a mess of clutter on a stool that serves as some sort of makeshift end table.
a low hum of approval sounds in your throat as he obeys without thinking, his first step into your gravity. “and that cloth.” he passes both to you. “good boy.” and he thinks he understands what it is that could demand that kind of devotion because, for a fraction of a second, Nick feels it too. the unmistakable desire to please you. a fleeting feeling of pride knowing he had.
you take the water, uncapping it with one hand while the other stays cradling Noah’s head, and he drinks when you press the bottle to his lips. long, slow sips.
all it takes is a gentle push against his stomach for him to take the hint and slip from inside you, perched on his knee between your legs and balancing on his opposite arm as you drag the cloth through your folds. once you’ve cleaned yourself up, you slide the cloth over Noah’s tip, and his breath catches.
“sensitive, baby?”
Noah nods against your collarbone.
“what do you think about another one?”
you make another pass and feel Noah tense.
“you can give me that,” you encourage. “you give me more all the time.”
your palm lays flat against Noah’s chest, reveling in the flex of muscle, the push of his stomach against your hand and the pull away, seeking more at the same time as it feels as if it’s too much. he whines into your shoulder.
warmth settles in his lower belly at the knowledge that Nick’s witnessing him like this—about to see how obedient he truly is for you—his body more than happy to give in to your wants and desires.
“go ahead, pup.”
his head bows into your shoulder as his hips stutter—short, shuddering spasms—as you work the cloth back and forth over his tip until his cum’s made a mess of it, the fabric sticky against your palm as you collect every drop he’s had to give you.
“how’s your head now?” you whisper, tone adoring.
“quiet.” his eyes are edged with murky bliss, distant. like he’s not entirely there.
you kiss the tip of his nose before his head finds its resting place using your boobs as his pillow, his arms hugging your waist.
“you gonna take care of that?” you look pointedly at Nick’s boner.
he flicks his near-finished joint into the ashtray where it smolders, huffing a laugh. “you offering?” he jokes, a boyish smirk tugging at his lips before he adds flippantly, “the weed does that.”
“just admit you liked what you saw.”
you’d watched him, too, after all. seen the way his jaw clenched. his pupils blown black with lust.
sure, he could try and chalk it up to being stoned, but that hadn’t just been the weed. that was curiosity. hunger.
the whole thing tasted of more.
“I would,” Folio grins boyishly, “if I thought he’d ever let me live it down.”
Noah doesn’t even lift his head.
Nick coughs awkwardly. the idea that he’d wanted to jerk off in front of one of his best friends—while he fucked his girlfriend no less—is too much to unpack right now.
so naturally, he changes the subject. classic deflection. he’s practically a pro.
“is it like this every time?”
you study Nick curiously. “like what?”
he gestures vaguely—toward Noah, toward you. “this… intensity… the way he is with you. all of it.”
you shrug. “more or less. he isn’t always on top if that’s what you mean.”
Nick raises an eyebrow. “and even when he is, he’s still…”
“submissive?” you offer. “yeah. you saw him. I have all the control because ultimately he gets his satisfaction by giving me mine. there’s a word for it. he’s what you’d call a service top.
“he may have come to me looking for a way to channel his excess energy, but that doesn’t change the fact that in his mind, his pleasure is second to mine. fucking me is an act of submission because it’s rooted in his desire to serve. does that make sense?”
“I think so, yeah.”
you can tell he’s still working it out in his head. like he’s trying to reconcile the Noah he knows with the one currently in front of him, another facet that up until now has been hidden away.
“what makes ‘this’ work is how we’re so compatible. have been from the start. he found what he needed in me, and I found the same in him.” your tone is fond when you say, “ultimately, it’s me he chose to let his guard down with, and he chooses that over and over again every time.”
you glance down at Noah, who’s practically purring against you, and your heart swells with affection. your fingers move slowly through his hair, relaxing him. “we’ve gotten closer than I ever thought possible. what we have goes beyond just a domme and her sub,” you say. “we were never just looking for someone to scene with. we were holding out hope for a life partner.”
Nick watches you carefully. “and you just… know what he needs?”
“overall, we’re pretty in tune with each other, but you learn to pay attention,” you say. “we talk. a lot. what we have didn’t just happen. it’s built on constant communication. before, during, and after. it’s a combination of reading his body language, listening to what he says, and noticing what he doesn’t. I trust him to tell me when I miss something. and over time, you start to pick up on things—a change in breathing, the way his muscles tense, a shift in his expression. those little cues? they tell me what’s working, what’s too much,…
“but that’s not all. we check in regularly. we use the stoplight system. green for good, yellow to take things slow, red to stop. he also has a safe word. every scene starts with consent, with setting boundaries first. we have regular discussions about what we’re both comfortable with and what we want to try in a session. it’s important to have those conversations so we both know we’re on the same page before we start a scene. that’s what keeps us safe and allows us to have fun together.
“and, you know, being a domme isn’t all male gaze latex and humiliation. that’s what people often associate it with when they watch porn, but submission isn’t one size fits all; it looks different for everyone. different people have different needs and thus play differently.
“submission doesn’t only happen in the bedroom either. what Noah needs from a dominant is a safe place to let go of control both inside the bedroom and out of it.”
Nick looks skeptical. “I just didn’t think ‘submission’ was in his control-freak nature.”
“that’s exactly why it appeals to him,” you reply. “it’s exhausting, being in control all the time. giving that up, even for a little while, can be such a relief. he knows he can come to me when he’s feeling overwhelmed, and I’ll ground him. sometimes that’s all he needs. to just be able to surrender everything to someone he trusts completely.”
and sometimes it’s up to you to approach him. when he’s buried in work, drowning in pressure, worrying about all the small details of a performance, you’ve had to gently pull him back, remind him to breathe, to rest, to take care of himself.
“being Noah’s dominant isn’t all ball gags and bondage.”—in fact, why you would ever deprive yourself of hearing such beautiful sounds is beyond you—“it’s reminding him to take breaks. making decisions when he’s too tired to think. just being a steady hand when his mind starts spinning out of control.
“he’s made a lot of progress with his mental health, but…” you pause, thinking of the softness in his voice when he asks to relinquish control to you, how much he trusts you to carry that weight. “sometimes, he just needs to be reminded that the world as he knows it doesn’t rest solely on his shoulders.”
Nick’s eyes flick to Noah again, still curled up with his head nuzzled into the underside of your boob, boneless and safe.
he can see the appeal.
“at the end of the day, we’re just like any other couple. we cook together. we binge our favorite shows cuddled up on the couch. we argue over dumb things like who left dishes in the sink or who didn’t replace the toilet paper roll. and yeah, the power exchange is important to us. it’s meaningful. but so is just lying in bed at the end of the day, talking about everything and nothing. that’s part of it too. the everyday domesticity of getting to live out your days with someone you love.”
“you guys make me sick,” he groans, despite knowing that most people spend their whole lives searching for what the two of you have. he can’t say you haven’t helped him understand exactly what it is he’s missing either. “absolutely nauseating. blink twice if you need me to get you out.”
you chuckle lightly. “whatever you’re thinking, I’m probably the furthest I could possibly be from needing rescuing, so you can put away the white horse, knight.”
he nods, his brown eyes warm with mirth.
“do you always do this after?”
“aftercare is non-negotiable,” you explain seriously. “it helps bring him back down. I care for him, check in, make sure he feels safe. plus, he was already riding a high after the show. it carried him through, but it’s wearing off now. exhaustion hits hard once the adrenaline fades,” you say, your voice quiet. “he’s starting to crash.”
you can tell he’s fighting sleep. and losing.
“he’s at his sweetest like this,” you murmur, stroking his scalp. this is your favorite. when your boy is all pliant and clingy, wanting nothing more than to cuddle up with you. eyes half-lidded, nuzzling further into your touch and treating your nipple to teasing kisses and the delicate laving of his tongue.
“he just needs cuddles right now. he turns into a big baby when he’s this tired. some praise never hurts. he’s got a big ‘ol praise kink.”
you lean down and press a kiss to his hair.
“he’s my good boy,” you whisper.
Noah hums his agreement, goosebumps prickling your skin.
“I should really get him to the hotel room before he falls asleep and I can’t bear to wake him up,” you say. “c’mon, baby.”
he grumbles in protest when you slip out from beneath him, his hands reaching for you as if trying to stay tucked into your side.
“I know,” you murmur, steadying him, “but you gotta help me.”
despite his initial reluctance, he follows, draping his arms loosely around your neck. his head rests on your shoulder as he leaves a trail of soft, lingering kisses against your skin, one of which he sucks determinedly into a purplish blue bruise of a hickey, asserting his claim on you. you laugh and push his face away, but he comes back and nips the skin, evidently feeling playful before he soothes it with his tongue.
“for your collection.”
you press a pair of your panties into Nick’s hand, and he tries not to think about the fact that it means currently you’re not wearing any.
he looks sheepish. “I don’t know what Noah told you, but the last pair must’ve gotten mixed up in my laundry.”
“sure they did.”
you don’t buy a word of it.
“I don’t have a collection.” he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck like the semantics of it all could somehow save him.
“sure you don’t.”
you’re enjoying watching him squirm more than you expected.
“you have a boyfriend,” he says as if it’s some kind of defense, a line he shouldn’t be crossing. a line you shouldn’t let him. like he hasn’t just watched the two of you together. like that line hasn’t already been blurred.
“we’re open to the right third.” you pause just long enough to study his face as a flicker of surprise crosses over it, quickly trying to mask thinly veiled interest. “surely you don’t know anyone who might be interested?”
fuck. he’s in way over his head.
lo and behold, the next morning he’s right back to where he started from: hearing Noah’s and your moans in the hotel room next door.
this feels a little like déjà vu.
what time is it anyway?
Nick groans and pulls the pillow over his face, mind still reeling from yesterday’s events.
fucking rabbits.
it’s useless. he can still hear your soft cries and Noah’s whimpers, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the occasional creaking of the bed frame echoing in his head. except this time he can picture it. hell, it’s practically burned into his eyelids. he tosses the pillow to the side, his eyes catching on your panties right where he’d left them last night, hanging from the handle of the bedside drawer.
almost without thinking he hooks a finger in the little scrap of fabric, tugging it free as he brings them to his face, inhaling deeply in a desperate attempt to cling to the lingering scent of you, your dried arousal, once slick, yet another reminder of last night.
he closes his fist tightly around the fabric, feeling the beginnings of a painful tent in his pants that he needs to do something about.
shit, is he actually considering this?
yes. the answer is yes.
might as well make use of your thoughtful gift, right?
his free hand moves down his body, disappearing beneath the covers as he gives in to the impulse to wrap a hand around his nearly fully erect cock.
he can feel whatever it is he needs to about it after. in the meantime, he’ll press the fabric to his nose as he fucks his hand into blissful oblivion. maybe, he naively thinks, he just needs to rub one out and get it out of his system. let it run its course.
if the noise filtering in from next door, if thinking about the way you’d wielded Noah’s submission, gets him there faster, so be it.
he can hear it in every sound that escapes your lips, how close you are. he imagines you in the next room, your body trembling, your hands clutching the sheets, Noah’s shoulders—whatever you can grip—as your back arches and you take Noah with you, whimpering as he struggles to hold himself up. or maybe you’re riding him, perfect tits in his face, and, god, if he were your sub, they’d be in his mouth…
if he were your sub…
there it is. he’s spilling all over the fabric of your underwear, and he can’t help but wish he were there, in a shared hotel room with you and Noah.
worse yet, he can see how it would go. you, his and Noah’s undoing. he finds himself aching to be a part of it. to find purpose at your feet alongside Noah.
