continued for @splitmeopens from here !
noah has never really known how to say what he wants. how to claim it. losing yourself behind locked doors is something taught early and often. but when the door clicks shut, noah lets his guard drop and suddenly he's actually allowing himself to be ravenous. he's allowed to want when no one is looking. and god, he wants rory. he wants him yielding under his grip and and wanton, desperation bleeding out of every pore. he wants every thing he's imagined with a hand wrapped around himself and boiling water pounding into his back. everything he pictures when he can't sleep. rory pulls. that matters. he pulls noah's hips flush to him, and noah takes it as an invitation. of course he does. if rory wants to press every complication out of his body, every fearful thought and broken glance, he can absolutely try. noah won't stop him.
noah rocks his hips against rory's, like he's never been hungrier for this than he is right now. lips meet the smooth expanse of his neck, and his teeth rake across rory's neck like consumption. a beat, a noise that hits like desire. he's always wanted this, he's just never been able to take it. rory's comments land like mines, but and they burst against the inside of his ribcage. he wants this. he wants loud and rough and needy, but he's settling right now. he has to. because there's a million people on the other side of that door who can't know that this is what they're getting up to. "fuck–" it's just a little breathless and ruined at the edges. "i'm gonna take you apart." and he's never meant anything more. breath runs hot against skin tinged with want, and noah can practically taste it all. his thumb pulls down on rory's lower lip, and it all feels vulgar and obscene in all the right ways. "fuckin' cocky asshole," a beat, "you love testing me." there's no part of him that would change it. it's consumption and want and worship all wrapped in a neat little bow. "talk to me, ro." he smirks, "tell me how often you think about this."
