SEEING YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME
best friend!noah x reader
SUMMARY: noah makes it feel like the first time.
WARNINGS: a dash of jealous!noah. pet names (princess, baby, good girl). brief mentions of past relationship/-s. sweetie noah talking you through it. praise kink. unprotected p in v. oral sex (fem receiving). noah is a munch. friends to lovers. fluff. some self-doubt. a bit of dirty talk. realization of feelings. body worship.
WORD COUNT: 8602
TAGS: @badomensspecter @theservantbones @geminigirlfromfinland @sleepycactus-offering @glasshousestragedy @lacy1986 @lowergroundfloor @amelia-acero @emocrouton
AUTHOR’S NOTE: i’m not gonna apologize for this. it came to me in a fever dream and i had to write it, so enjoy!!
You and Noah tell each other everything. Being best friends for years guarantees that sort of thing, anyways. You have shared everything there is to know about yourselves, and then some. There's nothing that you don't know about one another.
Except the fact that you wanted Noah to be your first, even years after losing your virginity. You always thought that he would agree to do it because you’re best friends who do everything together. But he had to go and lose his virginity before you, and it felt like you had to catch up somehow.
You lost it to your first boyfriend, Trenton. He was good, sure, but it was also his first time so things were shaky and awkward. You had to figure things out as you went.
After you and Trenton broke up, you’ve only ever had sex with three other people. None of these relationships lasted very long, something you always thought you were the root cause of. That you were incapable of being in committed relationships and your partner only ever wanted one thing from you. Sex.
And Noah already knows everything about these thoughts and fears of yours, which he’s been a huge help with working through all of it. But he doesn’t know about the fact that you have always wanted him. Him above all else.
And maybe it’s finally time.
You really don’t want to tell Noah though. Even though you can hear Folio’s voice echoing from the depths of your skull, sternly but gently urging you to tell the truth to your best friend, and to appease the dark pit of guilt and embarrassment swirling in your stomach.
You would rather be burned alive than tell Noah you’ve dreamt about him being your first.
But you promised Folio that you wouldn’t back out, that you were finally going to tell Noah the truth. Besides, Folio found out “by accident”, so it’s only fair you finally tell Noah. (You had been talking to your sister on the phone about the dilemma one day while out with the boys, not realizing Folio had been nearby.)
With the internal encouragement from Folio vibrating through your brain — something you will be eternally grateful for, regardless of the situation it has arisen from — the prospect of coming clean still proved to be much more difficult than you had been anticipating. And you had chosen the worst possible day to tell Noah.
Bad Omens leave for tour tomorrow, which leaves you utterly and royally fucked. In the end, it’s your own fault for waiting so long because you knew when tour began. That, and Folio found out over a month ago so you have had plenty of time to tell Noah that you spent procrastinating, instead.
Now, you’re sitting on Noah’s bed as he rifles through his closet for the clothes he’s packing for tour. He claimed he had needed your help, although he put in every single article of clothing you recommended he take into one of his bags.
For the past few minutes you haven’t been paying much attention to Noah as he’s been talking about a few song ideas he has. His soft voice was soothing as you mindlessly fiddled with the pillow you have cradled in your lap. Your eyes became glued to the comforter beneath your legs, your gaze hazy and unfocused.
The relaxing drone of Noah’s voice cut out, but you were still too distracted by your own thoughts to take note of it. Until there was a dip in the bed and Noah’s presence was only a few feet away. His fingers tap on your knee.
“Hey, you good?”
You blink. You look up at Noah to see him sitting across from you, a concerned expression on his face.
“Yeah, I'm good," you reply hurriedly as you pull the pillow up tighter against your chest. “What were you saying?"
Noah shakes his head. "No, that can wait. Something's bothering you. What's going on?”
“No, no, I’m okay. Seriously,” you insist, forcing a smile on your face to show him just how good you’re feeling. “Just got some stuff on my mind. But it’s not important right now. You need to finish packing.”
You try to get up and gather the rest of his things he will need when Noah grabs your arm. The contact sets your skin on fire. You swallow nervously.
“That can wait,” Noah says again, this time a little more forcefully. “Talk to me.”
“Noah, you literally leave for tour tomorrow,” you remind him. “Don’t sit here and procrastinate packing just to listen to me whine. That can wait, I promise. Plus, I already talked to Nick about it, so it’s fine.”
As soon as you said Folio’s name, you knew you fucked up. You and Nick are close, you will admit, so the initial conversation with him was much easier than it could have been with someone else. But you know how Noah feels about your friendship with Folio. Says that there’s never any space between you two; doesn’t like how you’ll sometimes sit on Folio’s lap if there is nowhere else to sit.
You’ve teased Noah for being jealous in the past, but he always denies it. Always claims he’s just looking out for you, despite the other man being one of his best friends as well.
“You already talked to Nick?” Noah asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You nod wordlessly.
Noah mutters something under his breath but you catch what he said anyways. Fucking Folio.
It is clear to you that Noah is upset just from the brief mention of Nick. And you know it goes deeper than you already talking to him. You’re going to have to pry.
“Why are you so angry over that?” you question him. “I’m allowed to talk to Nick and be friends with him, Noah. It’s not my fault you’re so jealous.”
There’s a dark glint in Noah’s eyes at your words but he says nothing. You watch him take a deep breath, composing himself. His hand has slipped down your arm and has tangled his fingers with yours in the meantime.
“I’m not jealous of Folio, princess,” Noah says lowly after several moments. Your heart skips a beat at the use of the nickname. And you’ll never tell him this, but you’ve imagined how you’d feel if Folio ever called you princess, and it pales in stark comparison to the way Noah makes you feel. Weak in the knees, chest filled with butterflies, need coursing through you.
That alone is a blatant reminder as to why you have to tell Noah.
You look expectantly at Noah, silently urging him to keep talking, maybe admit something so you don’t have to. But he stays quiet.
It’s now or never.
“Do you remember Trenton?” you blurt out.
If the look on Noah’s face was dangerous before, it’s beyond lethal at the mention of your ex. He tilts his head and finally shifts his gaze towards you. You don’t miss the slight twitch of his fingers against yours.
“Yeah. What about him?” Noah says, his voice laced with venom.
Noah hated Trenton. He hated how he treated you and spoke to you, always claiming Trenton wasn’t good enough to be with you. You remember one instance in particular, when you had gotten in an ugly argument with Trenton and he threatened you in front of Noah. You have never seen Noah so pissed off or ready to fly off the handle and beat someone up.
Safe to say you and Trenton weren’t together much longer after that fight.
You hesitate, fearing you may be making a mistake. You’re afraid Noah will run away once you tell him. Kick you out of his house. Not take you seriously. But you stamp down the fear and anxiety the best you can before continuing.
“He was my first,” you say. You see Noah roll his eyes at your words. “But I never wanted him to be.”
Noah looks back at you quickly. He lowers his head and watches you intently. And you’re suddenly nervous all over again.
“If I’d had the option, he wouldn’t have been my first,” you go on timidly. “Honestly, if I’d had the choice, I would have chosen—“
You cut yourself off. You can see the way Noah is staring at you, almost like he knows. He can’t possibly know, can he? Right? You’re starting to spiral.
“Who would you have chosen?” Noah asks softly.
You look down at your entwined hands. Panic is rising in your lungs and you are desperate to get out of this situation. You need to just tell him, then maybe you’ll be able to breathe properly.
“You.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I would have chosen you.”
Noah’s eyes are wide. The apples of his cheeks have a light pink dusting. His lips are pressed tightly together, but you don’t miss the slight quirk to them.
And he’s just.. staring at you. So openly. You’re growing anxious from under his gaze, and you know you are about to be rejected so hard. You know he’s going to tease you and maybe make fun of you for such an odd request. You internally prepare for his rejection.
“Me?”
His voice is so soft you almost don’t hear it. But you did. Oh, you certainly heard it. Because now Noah is looking at you so intently, with such pretty doe eyes and a small smile on his face. You are genuinely stunned.
But you give him a slight nod.
“Me?” Noah reiterates, almost like he doesn’t believe it himself. “Really?”
“It’s ridiculous, I know,” you murmur as you look away from him. You suddenly feel like you’re going to cry. “It’s just… I always thought that it would be you, because we’re best friends and we do everything together and I trust you above everyone else.”
The admission feels like a weight has been lifted off of your chest. You feel so much better having said it to Noah, finally. But your eyes are still welling up with tears and you can’t seem to stop them.
The moment the first tear falls Noah pulls you into his chest. One arm is securely around your waist and the other soothingly roves up and down your back. He lets you cry for as long as you need, and he just holds you. He doesn’t rush you, nor does he say anything until you’re ready.
You sob into his chest for a few minutes. The relief of telling him was monumental, yes, but fear is overtaking you even as your cries are subsiding. The look he had given you just moments ago is stuck in your head. You’re still expecting him to politely decline.
When you are able to choke back the rest of your sobs, you pull away from Noah. His arm is still around your waist when you look up at him with bleary vision. He looks heartbroken for you, and it makes you want to scream and cry some more. He patiently waits for you to say something.
“I-I’m sorry,” you say at last with a crack of your voice. “I really didn’t want to tell you but-but Nick thought it’d be a good idea and I-I trust his judgement so…”
Your words trail off. You drop your gaze to avoid looking at Noah any longer, embarrassment heating your face and chest. To expect a response from him is likely, but one you want to hear is highly unlikely. So you busy yourself by fiddling with the drawstrings of the sweatshirt that Noah is wearing.
“I’m sorry if I’ve made things weird,” you whisper. Your throat tightens. “I didn’t want that. Just figured I could be honest to you about it, that’s all.”
“No, no, you didn’t make anything weird,” Noah assures you. “I appreciate you coming to me about that. And I am really flattered that you would want that, by the way.”
Flattered? Why is he flattered by that? You just told him you wanted to have sex with him and lose your virginity to him. Why would your best friend find that endearing on any sane, competent level?
You stay quiet, trying your best to choke back the incoming wave of tears. You have never wanted to disappear more than you do in this very moment.
But Noah’s next words catch you off-guard.
“When I get home from tour. How about that?”
Your head shoots up. Surprise and confusion battle inside of you as you try to process what he just said.
“What?”
Noah smiles softly as he uses his free hand to brush the hair away from your face. His cheeks are a light, pretty pink color. He avoids your eyes and you get the sense that he too is anxious about this.
“When I get home from tour,” he reiterates in a near whisper, slowly. “We can make that happen, if you still want it.”
“Make that happen? As in, like…”
With a nod, Noah answers your unspoken question. And that is when he finally meets your gaze. His eyes are warm and sincere, more alluring than you have ever seen them. You hate that your heart picked up an ample amount of speed at his declaration.
“You don’t have to,” you tell him. “I only expected you to listen to me, anyways. I’m not asking you to do that for me.”
“I want to. Make it feel like the first time, I guess.”
You feel like you’re going to have a heart attack with the erratic beating of the anxious muscle in your chest. This was the last thing you had anticipated to come out of this admission of yours — to have Noah willingly offer himself to you in honor of your weird fantasy. To make it feel like the first time. You knew you didn’t deserve him a long time ago, but this just solidifies that fact.
“You would do that?”
Noah nods. “After I get back from tour though,” he tells you. “We could tonight, but I wanna take—“
Noah catches himself, and you see the glimmer of something dark within his irises. He quickly looks down at your mouth before meeting your eyes in a split second. The arm he has around you has tightened its hold on you.
“I have to finish packing,” he continues. “So after tour, if that’s okay.”
“Uh.. y-yeah. Yeah, totally okay,” you say, gobsmacked. You tear your gaze away from his to look around his room. “I should probably go anyways. Let you finish packing in peace.”
Noah seems almost disappointed but says nothing. He walks you out to your car, a nervous air about him. From the car’s mirrors you watch how he takes a few steps back from the vehicle and stays in place until you turn the street corner.
These next couple months are going to be hell, you realize.
—
You stalk Bad Omens on the internet for the following weeks. You watch as many concert videos as you possibly can. And even though you talk to Noah every day, you find yourself missing him more than usual. Something is different about this time, and you know it.
But you barely acknowledge it. You try to keep your agreement with your best friend towards the back of your mind as much as humanly possible. Although, there will be times where you’re watching those concerts clips posted by people either on barricade or further into the pit videos of Noah performing like nothing before. Where he is feral and unhinged and sounds like a heaven sent siren. The videos play on repeat as you try to snuff the feelings that arise from watching them; dark, untouched things you don’t want to see the light.
It’s one of those nights, a couple handfuls of weeks later, where you are stuck watching those videos. The last show of the tour was last night, and there are some amazing shots of Noah and the boys. But your attention is always grabbed by Noah, especially this time because you can hear a sort of desperation in his voice, even through the screen. It is haunting.
Then, there is a series of knocks against the front door, and you’re shooting out of your stupor. A mild feeling of embarrassment flows through your body. You shake it off as you make your way to the door.
And you are met with the familiar sight of Noah, much to your surprise. His tour bags are in-hand and he gives you a small smile, almost sheepish. You were not expecting him to come this soon.
“Hi,” he breathes out.
“Hi,” you reply just as breathlessly.
Without another word you step aside to let him in. He scoots past you, and the brief contact of your arms makes your blood sizzle. God, this is going to be so much more difficult than you had anticipated, you realize as you shut the door. He immediately drags you into his arms for a hug. And you hate how you melt against him.
“I missed you,” Noah whispers into your hair.
“I missed you too,” you whisper back.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” he says, his tone almost nervous. He pulls away from the hug.
There is an awkward air between you. After the promise Noah made to you you have been thinking about this day ever since. You just hadn’t expected him to show up on your doorstep fresh off of tour.
But you have to keep telling yourself it’s okay, because this is what you wanted. You want him here and you want to have this unorthodox experience with him. You just thought you had a bit more time.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course,” you assure him. “You can stay the night, if you want.”
Noah smiles at you before setting his bags down by the couch in the living room. You trail behind with a sort of nervousness you have never known before. Your palms are sweaty and your heart is beating out of your chest. You have to keep reminding yourself that it doesn’t have to happen right now. It doesn’t have to be tonight.
Oh god, but you want it to be. You want Noah to fulfill his promise this very instant. He offered to make dinner for the two of you, and seeing him dart around your kitchen that is much too tiny for his tall frame is just so domestic. Fuck, and if that doesn’t make you want to jump his bones.
He’s made food for the both of you plenty of times over the years. But something about this instance in particular has your chest squeezing and your breath coming up short. You aren’t quite sure why.
As Noah prepares dinner, you try to distract yourself with your phone. However, as soon as you unlock it, the video you had been watching starts playing again. A perfect view of Noah in that godforsaken black tee right from barricade. You immediately close out of it, a small squeak following.
“You okay?”
Noah’s voice jolts you to attention. From the kitchen he is watching you with a furrowed brow and a slightly crooked smile. Your face is burning with blush.
“I’m fine,” you say a little too quickly.
With a short nod Noah goes back to making food. And for the rest of the time he is busy, you can’t get the image of him on stage out of your head. Seeing him being domestic and humming in the kitchen was already making you dizzy. But to then top it off with that perfect view of him performing has sent you over the edge.
Your thighs are firmly pressed together and there’s a steadily growing heat deep in your belly. You’re going to have Noah make good on that promise tonight if it’s the last thing you do.
Once Noah is done with dinner, he brings both of your plates to the living room. You eat mostly in silence, save for the occasional tidbit of information he tells you about tour. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t make the ache go away. The image of him on stage invades your mind once more.
After dinner, with your dishes sitting on the coffee table, you slide up to Noah’s side. His arm casually lays across your shoulders as his head tips back against the couch. You do the same, and you see his eyes have slipped shut when you dare to glance at him.
He looks so serene this like — stomach full, home from tour, hanging out with you. Your heart aches in a strange way at the sight.
You continue watching him. You know you’re being creepy but his breathing had settled a few minutes ago, telling you he had fallen asleep. You also have not been this close to him in a long time, and you can see all of the freckles across his cheeks and nose. The stubble that’s slowly growing back in along his jaw and upper lip. The pretty lavender hue to his eyelids.
Pretty. You’ve never used the word when describing your best friend. But in this moment of peace, you realize that is exactly what Noah is: pretty. And that scares you for an unknown reason.
It scares you so bad, in fact, that you jump to your feet. The sudden movement jolts Noah awake. You watch as he blinks a few times before seeing you standing in front of him.
“You okay?” he asks groggily. “What happened?”
His tired voice goes right between your legs. Heat is rapidly inching all over your skin and you are suddenly suffocating. You need to get out of here.
“Yeah. Fine,” you say as you take a step back. “I’m gonna go shower then go to bed, I think. Probably. We’ll see. You can sleep on the couch or in my bed with me. Don’t care. Completely up to you.” You take another step back. “Uh… Goodnight.”
And with that, you maneuver around the coffee table before dashing down the hallway to your bedroom. You slam the door and press your back up against it. Your breathing is heavy and anxiety is running rampant through your veins.
You push off the door and begin pulling off your clothes. You had showered this morning so all you needed right now was cold, cold water. Something to tone down the heat pulsing through your entire body. Something to distract you from Noah who is in the other room.
With the shower head now on, you tie up your hair and get in. The sensation of the cold water on your burning skin is an immediate relief. You sigh loudly, ignoring the goosebumps crawling all over your body. It’s better than the alternative, you tell yourself.
After a good long while of standing under the steady stream of water, you finally step out. The bathroom air is freezing and you reach for the nearest towel before wrapping it around your torso. With anxious limbs you drag yourself back in to your room to find some new pajamas. You grab a shirt that you suspect to be Noah’s and a pair of shorts. You pull both articles of clothing onto your body once you’ve successfully dried off your skin.
Then you’re sitting on your bed. In silence. Alone. For a long time.
You hoped that distancing yourself from Noah and sitting in silence would alleviate the ache that has been lingering in the pit of your stomach. Which is growing at an exceptional rate, inching dangerously close to your center. But you keep shifting and it just makes you needier and needier.
Finally, at last, you give in to your desire and jump off your bed. There is no need to prolong this any more, you tell yourself, as if you have to justify what you’re doing to your own mind. As if you hadn’t been the one to approach Noah in the first place.
And before you can talk yourself out of it you’re already in the living room. Noah is lying across the couch, his long legs dangling off the edge. His shirt has ridden up on his abdomen, and the tattooed tummy revealed has your breathing stuttering.
“Hey,” he says, looking up from his phone. “What’s up?”
You hesitate. You’re rethinking this entire thing now. There is no way you can do this. Noah is your best friend. You can’t possibly have sex with him just because you wanted to lose your virginity to him so many years ago. There are so many things wrong with this situation that you can’t even begin to name at the moment. But curiosity did kill the cat, right?
“I-I can’t sleep,” you tell him. “Will you come lay in bed with me? Please?”
Easy. You and Noah have slept in the same bed together hundreds of times. Maybe it will help calm you down and you can forget this for now.
But then Noah agrees and then he’s lying in bed with you and… The ache is unbearable.
You can’t calm down. Your heart is thrashing out of your chest. Blood is pounding in your ears. Your clothes are suddenly too restricting but not baggy enough. Your feet won’t stop moving.
Noah eventually comments on your unrest.
“Are you okay?” he asks. He turns onto his side from his back to face you. He looks genuinely concerned.
You don’t know what to say. In the low light of your room, Noah looks absolutely devastating. His dark hair sweeping over his eyes; eyes that shine brightly despite the lack of light. You see that same pretty pink from before coloring his skin, making his freckles stand out. His lips are partially open and chapped.
That promise being fulfilled now.
“You remember what we agreed to, before you left for tour?” you murmur into the pillow.
One side of Noah’s mouth crooks upward. “Yeah. I remember,” he replies as his eyes dart all over your face. “What about it?”
You bite your lip, and Noah’s eyes track the movement. Your stomach swoops with anxiety.
“Can.. Can we do that?” you ask in a whisper.
“Now?”
You nod without a word. And you watch as Noah’s smile grows, stretching his facial features. His face is rapidly turning red.
“Okay. We can do that.” He looks back at you, studies you for a few seconds before he says quietly, “Can I touch you?”
You nod frantically. Then one of his hands is gingerly touching your hip atop your clothes, until he carefully slips it under your shirt. You gasp at the contact of his hand on your skin.
“Is this okay?” he whispers.
And when you murmur that, yes, it is, he gently pulls you towards him. Once you’re chest to chest his thigh slots between yours. He repeats his previous question.
You’re breathless when you say yes. His thigh isn’t quite pressing where you need him most, but the position will do for now. You hesitantly cup the sides of his tattooed neck, and, maybe you’re imagining it, but you swear you felt Noah’s pulse jump at the contact.
It feels like hours pass before Noah whispers, “Can I kiss you? Is that okay?”
Your mind goes blank. Can he kiss you? God, yes, he can.
“Yes,” you say, pulse fluttering and chest tingling with the flap of countless butterfly wings. “You can kiss me.”
Noah’s mouth quirks slightly at your nervousness, but leans in nonetheless. His nose brushes yours as your lips collide. It’s soft, and you hardly register the languid motion of Noah’s lips moving against yours. You are far too focused on his thigh that is inching higher and higher from between your legs. And once it finally comes in contact with your aching center you can’t fight the sigh that escapes you.
Noah drinks in the noise. His mouth becomes greedy and there is zero hesitation from him as he shoves his tongue past your lips. You gladly let him lick into your mouth, relishing in the clicking of teeth and slide of tongues.
Your hands find their home buried in Noah’s hair. He groans at the tugging of the tresses atop his head, but responds in kind with his brutal grip on your flesh. You feel drunk and high at the same time.
You could have kissed Noah forever. His mouth slotted against yours perfectly, claiming every inch of tooth and muscle he could reach. And his hands on your hips were pulling and clawing at you, dragging you down onto his thigh. The rough glide of your already soaked pussy against the thigh muscle of his leg has you seeing stars.
With the moans beginning to leave your lips, Noah seems to remember himself. Seems to remember why you’re engaged in such a heated moment together.
The whine that escapes you when he pulls away is embarrassing. You has you stop moving against him, but keeps that lethal hold on your waist. Is it too early to wish for bruises to be visible?
Noah breathes out your name, sounding almost desperate. You sigh out his in reply.
“Umm, I…” Noah rests his forehead against yours. You can already feel the sweat beading on his skin. “Do you… Fuck, uh,” he stammers, catching his breath. “Do you want me to walk and talk you through it if we’re gonna do this?”
You nod. “Please,” you say, momentarily tightening your grip in his hair. “If that’s okay.”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
With that, Noah plants one more bruising kiss to your mouth before pulling away. He maneuvers you onto your back and situates himself between your legs. His hands glide up and down your thighs softly, his fingertips rubbing gentle circles into your skin as he stares down at you.
Then his hands are traveling up. Tugging your shirt up until it’s bunched at your neck and your entire torso is bare. That pretty flush from earlier crawls across Noah’s neck and face again, making you selfishly wonder how red you can get him before this is over.
Your heart is bashing into your ribcage, and you fear it may break the bone. Anxiety has you in its fierce grip as Noah continues to stare at you. His darkened eyes trace every inch of skin on display, his lips parted as he breathes heavily.
You shift against him slightly, hoping to break him out of his trance; his name slips off your tongue for good measure. But he either didn’t hear you or he is blatantly ignoring you. Because then he is dipping his head down until his lips gingerly meet your sternum. A jolt ripples through you at the contact, every single one of your senses on the brink of explosion as Noah continues kissing your breasts, your ribs, stomach — anywhere he can get his mouth on you.
But you let him explore. You tangle your hands in his hair once more and enjoy the sensation of his mouth tracing the lines and ridges of your body. His tongue connects each delicate kiss and you think you may be in heaven.
You feel like you’re floating on air. Noah’s hot mouth truly feels heavenly as you continue lying there, enjoying his thorough ministrations. You can feel hints of teeth as he goes, and you want so desperately to feel them properly. But you say nothing, letting out only small gasps and sighs.
Eventually, Noah’s lips leave your body and you can’t choke back the whimper you let out. If that was all you got out of this experience, that would have been fine by you. You would let him worship you for hours.
He’s hovering over you now. His chain necklace has escaped the confines of his shirt and is now dangling in your face. It’s inexplicably hot.
“S-Sorry,” Noah murmurs. His voice is shaking. “I know you didn’t ask for that, but I just—“
“Noah. It’s okay,” you tell him. Breathless. Desperate. “Felt good.”
“Yeah?”
You hum, nodding.
“O-Okay. Can I take your shirt off?”
You nod again, and watch as Noah carefully brings your shirt up and over your head, then tosses it to the side. His large hands are back on you immediately.
“Can I take yours off?” you ask meekly, fully expecting him to say no.
But he gladly lets you, much to your surprise. And once his shirt is thrown to the side, Noah’s tattooed torso is bare and you can’t help but stare.
You’ve seen him shirtless countless times. It isn’t an uncommon occurrence and it’s never really made you nervous like it is right now. Maybe it’s the fact that he is sitting above you, with lips swollen from kissing and dazed eyes as he looks down at you. Maybe it’s the way you can feel him pressing into you between your legs, making you squirm.
Maybe all of the above. Maybe you’re nervous because of the situation you’ve put yourself in. The situation you both agreed to.
Either way, the sight of Noah’s bare chest steadily rising and falling with heavy breaths as your stomach twisting with nerves. And you can’t help but trace his tattoos with your fingers.
And he lets you. He remains quiet as his eyes dart from your face to your hand that is following the lines of his tattoos. The air between you is charged with electricity, and this is just making it worse.
Suddenly, he grabs both of your hand and pins them above your head. He leans down and buries his face in your neck. You moan out at his lips meeting the column of your throat, sucking and licking and biting — finally — into your sensitive skin. You writhe against him, bucking your hips and leaning your head back as far as it will go against the pillows so he has better access.
“We’re gonna do something now,” Noah whispers just below your ear. He pauses to place a tender kiss to the hinge of your jaw, immediately followed by his teeth gently tugging on your earlobe. “Gotta get you ready for me, okay?”
You whimper. Your lungs are filling with sweltering heat and your chest burns. Noah’s chain is uncomfortably cool against your skin, sending goosebumps flaring down your torso. But you nod emphatically at his words.
You feel Noah smile against the side of your neck before saying roughly, “Be a good girl and keep your arms up for me, yeah?”
Your insides turn to jelly. Noah’s words go straight to your center as you obey him. You keep your arms above your head as he reluctantly detaches from you, just to shift down the bed. You watch as he is now eye level with your pussy.
“Lift your hips, princess.”
And you do. With that sultry, rough voice of his you would do anything he asked.
With your hips raised, Noah hooks two fingers into the waistband of your shorts and slowly pulls them down until you are completely naked.
You suddenly become very self-conscious and feel the urge to cover yourself. And you almost do so, but then you see the way Noah is looking at you. His pupils are blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of warm brown around them. His face is bright red. His breath is hot against your pelvis. Something tells you Noah is enjoying this just as much as you are.
“Jesus christ,” he mutters. He begins placing kisses along your hipbones and down your thighs, getting closer to your cunt but still avoiding it. He gently sinks his teeth into your inner thighs, earning soft moans from you in the process.
You’re growing restless. This is supposed to be a recreation of your first time, of losing your virginity, not Noah getting to take his sweet time with you.
But you find that you don’t mind all that much. You are thoroughly enjoying the time and care he’s taking. He is giving you so much attention in every aspect that you don’t even care that he hasn’t properly touched you yet.
“Noah,” you whimper. Your hands are fidgeting and you need to touch him. “Please.”
Noah rests his cheek on your thigh, gazing up at you. He looks so goddamn pretty from here.
“I know, baby,” he breathes out. Your stomach flips at the pet name. “But I gotta get you nice and ready for me. This is my favorite part. Gonna take care of you, okay?”
His favorite part.
Your brain doesn’t have a chance to fully comprehend his words before Noah’s tongue strokes up through your folds, making you cry out. He does it again and you hate how you’re already a moaning mess.
He wraps his hands around your thighs to keep you in place and continues to devour your pussy like a man deprived of all sustenance. He gets your clit between his teeth and gently bites, pulling on it ever so slightly. You moan at the sharp sensation, your back arching.
His tongue continues lapping up at your wetness, fucking deeper and deeper into you, as far as he can go before doing it all over again. You want to push your hips down and follow his movements, but the grip he has on your thighs is like a vice: immovable. In your hazy mind you know there are going to be darkened bruises of where his hands were.
And that intense heat you’ve been experiencing is pooling deep in your belly. It’s a bright light that has your intestines igniting into flame. You’re so close.
“Hnnh— Noah,” you gasp out. Your back arches off the bed once more. “Fuck! Noah!”
All Noah does is hum against you, savoring your taste and relishing in your moans. That extra vibration is all you needed to tip over the edge, his name a scream against the four walls of your bedroom.
Your orgasm is brutal and all-consuming and amazing. You feel on top of the world as you come down. But overstimulation takes ahold of you from Noah continuing to lap at your folds, shocks of lightning shooting up your body. You have to reach down and tug on his hair. The beginning of another orgasm is cresting and almost overflows when Noah finally detaches his mouth from your cunt.
You can barely hear his heavy breathing over the pounding of your heart. Your legs are shaking and your head is swimming. But you’ve never felt better. You’ve never felt so blissed out.
That is clearly Noah’s favorite part, indeed. And he’s good at it. You file away that information for later.
Noah sits up. His chest is heaving as he gazes down at you. Blush rises up through the shading and colors of his tattoos, painting his skin in a gorgeous vermillion. His lips and chin shine from your arousal, and you hate how turned on that makes you.
Then he’s connecting your mouths and you can taste yourself on his tongue and your hands grab at his freckled shoulders in desperation. You need more. So much more of him.
His hands are grabbing at your tits and play with your nipples as you keep kissing. You moan into his mouth, high pitched and needy. And he swallows every single sound you make.
Once he pulls away, you’re both panting and fighting for air. His chain bumps into your chin, and you have half a brain to think that you cannot wait for it to do that over and over when he’s finally fucking in to you. You’ve had weeks to think about what it would be like, and you are nearly starstruck at the realization that you actually get to find out.
But there’s this tightening in your chest with that. Another realization is beginning to sink in, and panic is rearing its ugly head as you sit there in the quiet. The thought is much too soft and tender for this moment. You need to get rid of it right now.
Thankfully Noah beats you to it by saying, “You okay? You still with me?”
“God, yes,” you sigh with a dreamy smile. “Noah… oh, my god. Why are you so good at that?”
“I told you.” He returns your smile. “It’s my favorite part. I’d die happy if I suffocated while eating pussy.”
“Good to know. Now what? What are we doing?”
Noah dips back down until your noses are touching. His breath is scorching hot along your face, but you happily embrace the heat.
“I’m gonna stretch you out a little more, make sure you’re ready for me,” he murmurs. One of his hands is softly grasping your neck and the other is inching back down towards your center. “Wanna touch and taste you a little longer. You’re being such a good girl for me.”
You soak in the praise as Noah shifts and you feel his fingers prodding at your entrance. One delicately sinks into your heat, and it has Noah moaning in satisfaction. He pushes it in even further until he’s knuckle-deep in your pussy.
“Fuck, baby,” he drawls. “You’re so tight.”
You moan out which is then cut off once you feel Noah’s mouth close around one of your nipples. Another finger is added as Noah carefully fucks into you, his thumb rubbing at your clit simultaneously. His tongue dances casually around your nipple, with his teeth tugging and nipping at the hard peak. He lavishes one nipple before moving on to the other and copying his work on this one.
His fingers curl inside you, a painfully calculated come hither motion, the same moment his thumb presses down on your clit. He composes a perfect symphony of touches and sensations as he touches you. He harmonizes your moans with the swipe of his tongue and follows it up with the syncopation of your hips rocking against his hand.
Pleasure is building within you once more and you fear you may explode with it. Your orgasm is building and building, building to a bittersweet crescendo that you don’t want to play so you can enjoy this moment forever.
But then Noah’s fingertips are pressing against your cervix so perfectly and your vision goes white. The crashing wave of your orgasm is far more intense than the first one he gave you. A scream scratches your throat as the descending wave fully washes over you.
The first thing you see as you’re coming down from your high is Noah, still hovering above you, sucking his fingers clean. You feel overly delirious as you watch him, maintaining eye contact with you as he does so.
You grab at the waistband of his pants, repeating please over and over in your head. You hope he can hear your thoughts and finally give you what you want.
“Holy shit, you’re amazing,” Noah murmurs against your neck. He sloppily kisses along your throat and collarbones and jaw until he reaches your lips. There, he greedily claims your mouth, connecting your tongues and knocking your teeth together. “Fucking perfect, baby.”
You watch as he pulls back off the bed to get out of his pants, and you have never felt need like this before.
Once he’s stepped out of his pants Noah climbs back on top of you in all his nude glory. All of his tattoos are on display, and you want to run your tongue along each and every one of them. But the V of his hips snags your attention and you are surprised by your own boldness as you reach forward and grab his length.
Noah groans at the contact, a small thrust of his hips into your hand in reply. He’s warm and long against your palm, and your mouth waters as you gently pump him. His forehead falls against your shoulder as you sit there and work his cock, your thumb brushing over the peaking pre-cum. You delight in the shudders rippling through his body.
One of his large hands encloses around your wrist and pulls it away. He gently grab yours jaw and turns your face to look up at him. His nostrils are flaring, his mouth is set in a hard line, and sweat drips down from his hairline. You’re very much enjoying this version of your best friend.
Best friend.
This isn’t something best friends do. They don’t fuck each other and make each other moan with pleasure.
But you’re not best friends. You know that. There has always been something more brewing between you and Noah, something you have never acknowledged head on. Except for right now. Your chest suddenly feels so warm, almost on the verge of too much.
You don’t want this to end.
“Can I ride you?” you blurt out. You want to take back the words as soon as they leave your mouth. But the way Noah is looking at you as your pussy fluttering around nothing.
“I thought you wanted this to be like your first time,” he says, his voice husky.
“Not anymore.”
And with that, Noah sits back on his heels and lets you straddle him. With one hand, he holds your hip tightly as the other carefully guides you down onto him until you’re fully seated.
You have never felt so full. You swear you can feel him in your throat, and it’s making you dizzy.
You wiggle your hips as you adjust to his size, clutching onto his shoulders for dear life. Noah’s grip on your hips is the only thing keeping you grounded to reality at the moment.
Soft moans fall from your lips as you adjust. That realization from earlier is haunting your thoughts and it’s scaring you. You don’t know what to do. Should you say something now? Or after? What would you even say? Because you think you know what you’re feeling, you just don’t want to put a name to it because then that makes it real. It becomes a real thing that you have to deal with.
You lock eyes with Noah to see his lids heavy, half closed over his bright irises. He’s enjoying this as much as you are, and that’s the scariest part of this whole thing. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. Almost like he craves you and wants you. Almost like he…
Yeah. He definitely does. So do you.
Focusing on the crimson blush staining his skin, from his face to his shoulders and to the full expanse of his chest, you mentally prepare yourself to do the stupidest thing you have ever done.
“I love you.”
Noah goes still. His breathing halts for a moment as he processes your words. It’s not like you haven’t said that to each other as friends over the years, because you have. But this is so very different, and Noah can tell there is a difference this time around.
Your body is trembling as Noah slowly lifts his hand and cradles the side of your face. Heat pulses behind your eyes as you watch him. His thumb traces your bottom lip before he’s crashing his mouth into yours.
You kiss and taste each other in a way that wasn’t there before. So many years of pent up emotions are bubbling to the surface in this single action, and you feel safe in the thought of completely drowning in it.
“I love you,” Noah mutters against your lips. “God, I love you.”
Then he surprises you with a sudden thrust of his hips. Your nails sinks into his shoulders, a loud cry punched out of your chest. Noah takes ahold of your hips and begins to thrust up into you at a medium pace. And you have to force yourself to match the rhythm he’s setting, matching each carefully angled thrust with a bounce of your own.
You finally take this time to bite and kiss Noah’s neck, hoping to leave your own mark on him. You sink your teeth in with every especially harsh thrust of his hips. The moans he gives you in response are fucking addictive.
“Noah,” you whine. Your legs are shaking and you are fighting the urge to flop against his chest with exhaustion. You hope he understands.
Without another word, Noah wraps one arm around your waist and the other holds onto your thigh. He continues to fuck into you, perfectly okay with doing the work. This way, you can keep kissing him and marking up his skin with hickeys and love bites. Which he pays in kind to your own neck.
That fire deep in your belly is billowing and on the brink of explosion. You chase the feeling as Noah’s cock hits that spot within you that makes you dumb.
“Noah, please,” you whimper, your words soaking into the junction between his neck and shoulder. “‘m so close, please—“
“I got you, baby,” he groans. His voice is strained and you can tell he’s nearing the end as well. “Let go for me, okay?”
With one more thrust of his hips, you’re screaming out as your pleasure reaches its climax and bleeds out of every pore. You shake in Noah’s arms, moaning and crying. He comes a second after you, fucking into you and working you through your shared orgasms. You’re numb with overstimulation and buzzing with bliss at the same time.
You sit there in Noah’s embrace for a long time after you eventually came down fully. Your limbs are heavy and you can’t make up a single coherent thought. You have never felt this good after sex.
Noah is placing soft kisses to your head and whispering praise against your skull. His hands are massaging your thighs and hips, helping to loosen up the tense muscles. You hum happily.
“You did so good,” he whispers in your ear. His fingers are soothingly running up and down the length of your spine. “So good for me.”
You nuzzle your face deeper into his neck, sighing softly at the overwhelming comfort you feel. Despite the tackiness of your skin from sweat, you think this may be your new favorite place to lay.
“Friends don’t do that,” you murmur into the quiet.
Noah chuckles softly. “No. No, friends don’t do that,” he agrees.
“Friends don’t fuck and go back to normal,” you go on. The heat has returned to your eyes. You cannot cry right now. “I don’t want to go back to normal, Noah.”
“Neither do I.”
You gather your strength and lean away from him and stare into his eyes. And, reflected back at you, you can see all of the emotions you’re feeling. Every single little thing you’re feeling Noah is also feeling, and somehow that doesn’t scare you. The realization that he feels the exact same way isn’t scary or daunting. It’s comforting.
“I love you,” you tell him softly. “Like, really love you. And I mean it when I say I don’t want to go back to being friends.”
“Good, because I don’t wanna go back to friends either,” Noah says with a slight smirk. “And this just confirmed that for me.”
You return his smile. “Together?” you whisper, raising your pinky between your sweaty bodies.
“Together,” he replies as he links your pinkies together. “I love you. You’re never getting rid of me, princess.”
“And you’re never getting rid of me. I’m your eternal groupie now.”
“Ew, please don’t call yourself a groupie.”
“Then what am I?”
Noah gently kisses you and whispers, “Mine.”
thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!! <3
masterlist
♱ foliosriot 2026
