Chapter 23 Noah
Noah
My face goes nuclear. Not red—glowing-core meltdown. My thighs tense, instinctively trying to close, to hide, but all that does is draw more attention to the mess I’ve made of myself.
More than half my cock is out of the panties, flushed, dark, heavy, and leaking against my stomach. The way the fabric hugs the base, how the tip glistens—it looks obscene.
“I’m—uhm, I know I’m—” I start, voice cracking, fingers twitching with the need to cover myself, apologize, or hide.
Damien swears low under his breath. “Fuck me…” he whispers, shaking his head slowly, almost in disbelief, awe warring with lust on his face. “How the fuck are you soft everywhere else but packing like a goddamn pornstar?”
I let out a startled laugh, part embarrassment, part pride. “Is it—bad?”
Damien grins, running both hands up my thighs, settling them over my shaft, and squeezing possessively. “Bad? Bad? Baby, these panties can’t even hold you. You’re so hard I can see the veins through the lace.”
As soon as he squeezes my cock, the sound that leaves me isn’t intentional. It’s helpless—high and strangled and needy. My hips twitch without permission, cock jerking hard against the wet fabric.
“Goddamn,” he growls, forehead dropping briefly to my stomach. “You think I’m not imagining how you’d sound if I got my mouth on this massive cock? Legs locked behind my neck, your thighs squeezing my head, begging me not to stop while I suck every drop out of you?”
“Mien,” I whine, not hiding anything anymore. I don’t think I could if I tried. Every want I’ve ever buried is right there on my skin in the way my body leans toward him without me telling it to. I want this. I want him to see it. I want him to want me like this.
Damien places open-mouthed kisses up the inside of my leg, teeth grazing just beside the lace of my inner thigh. His hands never stop moving—cupping my balls through the lace, smoothing over my waist, fingers ghosting the waistband of my panties.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, biting softly just beside the fabric. “You gonna let me make you feel good?”
“Please,” I whimper, tears pricking at my eyes from how intense it feels to be seen this way.
“That’s my good girl,” he says, and his mouth curves into the smallest smile, all tenderness and want, and then he leans over and sticks his tongue out, flattening over my cock and lapping at the precum. Just one swipe and my whole body reacts like I’ve been electrocuted.
I let out a shattered noise I’ve never made before—somewhere between a gasp and a sob. My fists twist in the sheets, my spine arching on instinct, the lace pulling tighter across my cock as I twitch under his tongue.
“Oh—god—”
Damien hums quietly, and the vibration makes my hips jerk.
I try to breathe, but my body’s twitching, locked, and panicked.
I’ve never felt this before—not with anyone.
He doesn’t take me into his mouth. Instead, he nuzzles me, his cheek and nose pressing in, stubble scratching my oversensitive skin and sending sparks dancing up my spine.
“I—I don’t think I—” My voice breaks. “It feels… It feels too much.”
He stills instantly and looks up at me with eyes full of concern. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, serious now.
I shake my head so fast it makes me dizzy. “No. No, I just—I don’t know what’s happening. I’ve never…” I trail off in a whimper.
“It’s okay, I get it,” he says gently. “You’re about to have your first real orgasm, baby. Let it happen. Just feel it. Just feel me.”
He keeps touching me, stroking through the lace, then slipping it aside to wrap his hand fully around me. I cry out at the contact, my hips jerking forward, and he follows the motion instead of stopping it.
The sensation detonates, and the pressure builds too fast. My body doesn’t know how to pace itself, every nerve screaming, every touch amplified. “Oh—oh my god—”
“Don’t fight it,” he whispers. “You’re doing so well, Blue. Let go for me.”
My whole body locks up, a strangled moan ripped from my throat as heat floods every limb.
I come hard, spilling over my stomach and his hand in hot pulses.
The pleasure is blinding, all-consuming, terrifying in its intensity.
My vision whites out, my back arches, and my fingers claw the sheets as if I’m falling through something I’ll never return from.
And it just keeps going.
Wave after wave crashing through me—relief, need, surrender. It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever felt this. All I know is his voice in my ear, murmuring, “That’s it, that’s my good girl, so fucking beautiful when you let go,” and the warmth of his hand stroking me.
When it finally ebbs, I’m left boneless and wrecked, staring at the ceiling with tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes, chest still heaving.
Damien moves down my body once more, and I watch as his tongue flicks out to lick the cum from my stomach. His eyes flutter closed slightly, and he groans, saying, “Taste so fucking good, Blue.”
“I—I’m sorry,” I whisper weakly, watching my softening cock twitch helplessly. “I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t mean to—”
He quickly hushes me and pulls me into his arms, ignoring the mess on my stomach.
“Noah, look at me.” He tips my chin up with his clean hand, wipes the tears from my cheek with the pad of his thumb, his eyes clear and full of nothing but care.
“That was supposed to happen. You didn’t do anything wrong, baby. Not a single thing.”
I press my face into his chest, breathing in the scent of cinnamon gum and spicy bodywash while he’s rubbing slow circles into my spine.
“But I… I thought I was supposed to wait, or tell you, or—” I stammer, embarrassment making it hard to meet his eyes, but he never looks away.
His lips press against my forehead. “You don’t have to warn me, or apologize, or hold anything back.
Your body’s just catching up to everything you never got to feel before.
That’s normal. All of it. You have nothing to be ashamed of.
” He rubs his thumb under my eye again, chasing away the last of my tears.
“I wanted you to feel good, Blue. That’s all I wanted.
Your body did exactly what it needed to. ”
The way he says it—gentle but grounded—makes my chest ache so badly I think I might cry again.
I swallow, blinking up at him. “Are you sure? It’s not embarrassing?” I mumble.
“Fuck no,” Damien says, shaking his head for emphasis.
“It’s the opposite, Babygirl. It means I got to make you feel good.
That’s all I want. Crying is normal, too, especially for your first time.
It’s overwhelming, yeah, but that’s not bad.
I loved seeing you let go and letting yourself have something good for once. You deserve all of it.”
His words wrap around me, gentling every sharp edge inside. “I never thought it would be like this. I thought I’d be awkward, or you’d laugh, or…”
He shakes his head again. “I’d never laugh at you for being vulnerable. I wanted it to be good for you. Even if all we ever do is this, I’ll be happy. That was beautiful, Noah. You were beautiful.”
“I didn’t think I could come without even trying,” I admit, so quietly I don’t know how he even hears it.
Damien lets out a quiet, breathy chuckle against my hair, the sound warm and not mocking. It rumbles through his chest where my cheek is pressed, and I feel it more than I hear it.
“Hey,” he murmurs, tilting his head so he can look down at me. His expression is soft and a little dazed. “You wanna see something that really is embarrassing?”
I frown immediately, pulling back to look up at him properly.
My face still feels hot, my body loose and strange.
I know I’m not fully put back together yet.
“You just watched me… do all of that,” I say, gesturing vaguely at myself, at the mess I made.
“I don’t think you get to win the embarrassment contest right now. ”
His mouth twitches, fighting a grin. “Yeah, well. Humor me.”
Suspicion curls low in my stomach, mixing with a flicker of curiosity. I hesitate, chewing on my lip, then nod once. “Okay,” I say, cautious. “Yeah. I guess.”
His grin widens, and he exhales through his nose. “Alright. Don’t laugh too hard at me.”
Then he lifts his hips and peels down the waistband of his sweats, revealing a wet, dark stain spreading across the front of his dark blue briefs. He’s still hard and straining, the evidence impossible to miss. He looks sheepish for the first time tonight, as if bracing for my reaction.
“Oh,” I whisper. “Oh.”
Damien laughs under his breath, cheeks faintly pink for once. “Yeah,” he says. “That.”
My eyes flick up to his face, then back down, then back up again. “You… you—”
“I did,” he says, exhaling on a quiet laugh, “You made me hump the bed and cum in my pants. Watching you lose it—seeing how fucking beautiful you are when you come apart—I couldn’t hold back.”
My jaw drops, heat spiking through my cheeks all over again, but this time I’m not embarrassed. I’m stunned, and a little giddy, and it feels weirdly powerful. “You—just from watching me?”
He grins, a bit self-deprecating, a bit proud. “Just from watching you, Babygirl. I felt you tense, felt you shaking, heard the way you came undone, and my body just… checked out.” He snorts quietly. “Didn’t stand a chance.”
I swallow, suddenly hyper-aware again, of the mess on my stomach, of the way my body still feels sensitive and open. “That’s not embarrassing,” I say, even though my voice wobbles a little. “That’s just… really hot.”
His eyes darken at that. “Yeah?” he murmurs.
I nod. “I like knowing I did that to you.”
His grin is a little cocky now, but the affection is there, running under every word. He leans in and kisses me slowly, his tongue teasing mine as he groans into my mouth. When he finally pulls back, he brushes my hair out of my face, searching my eyes for any trace of doubt.
“Be right back,” he says and gets up and walks to my bathroom, giving me a few minutes alone—long enough to feel myself slowly spiral. But he’s back too soon, carrying a cloth in one hand and dumping his dirty briefs in my laundry basket.
He touches my knee first, just a gentle squeeze, then glances at my hips, checking in. “Can I?” His voice is so soft it almost doesn’t sound like him, but it’s everything I need right now.
I nod, biting my lip, still sniffling, but the urge to bolt is gone. Damien’s hands are careful as he helps me slide the lace down my legs, not fumbling or gawking or making a spectacle out of any of it.
I flush, but this time it’s from how tenderly he holds the things I keep hidden, the things I was always so afraid to share. There’s nothing rushed or embarrassed in the way he handles me—no sense that this is awkward or shameful, or anything other than normal.
It hits me then that this is Damien Moore. The only one who’s ever made space for all my ‘too-muchness.’ All my ‘weird.’ All the ways I don’t fit with anyone else. He’s always known how to read my moods, always been patient when I stumble over words or get overwhelmed.
We only lived in the same house for three years, but somehow, that was enough for him to memorize the rhythms of my life better than anyone else ever bothered to try. Not even Ryan, who tries so hard but never quite hits the mark.
Damien never made me feel like I was too much to handle or treated my mental health as a problem to fix or erase.
When the rest of the world felt like static, Damien always found a way to tune me in to his frequency.
He understood that some days I didn’t want to be touched, and other days I couldn’t breathe unless someone anchored me with a hand on my shoulder.
He learned that quiet didn’t always mean I was angry or sad; sometimes it was just how I recharged.
In three short years, Damien mapped out every shortcut through my walls, every off-limits room in my head, every tangled, impossible part of me. He’s been holding out his hand for years, and I was too afraid to see it for what it was.
He glances up when he finishes, tossing the cloth and panties into the laundry basket by my dresser, and just sits there for a second, hands still cradling my hips, thumbs stroking soft, grounding circles.
He’s close enough to kiss, a crooked smile tilting his mouth when I finally manage to meet his gaze.
“I don’t know why you’re so good to me,” I whisper, and I mean it. “Even when I was a mess, even when I never knew what you wanted.”
Damien’s smile gentles. He reaches up, brushing damp hair back from my forehead, and presses his lips to my temple. “Because I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t even remember what it felt like not to.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, letting myself lean into his touch.
My heart aches, full and raw and so soft it almost hurts.
I want to tell him I love him, that I always did, even when I was too scared to call it that.
But the words don’t come out—just this thick, clumsy wave of gratitude and longing that swamps everything else.
He helps me sit up and get back into my sweats, then grabs his hoodie from the floor and slips it over my shoulders, tucking me in. “Soft enough?” he asks as he rubs my shoulders, and I simply hum in response.
I wrap my arms around myself, breathing in the familiar scent of him—spice and cinnamon gum. It always felt like home to me.
Damien climbs into bed beside me, lying on his side, one arm draped across my waist, fingers tracing idle patterns along my hip. “You okay right now? Anything hurt? Anything feel bad?”
I shake my head. “No. Just… overwhelmed.”
“That makes sense. You want to talk?” he murmurs. “Or just lie here for a while?”
The fact that he’s asking, that he’s giving me a choice, makes my chest ache all over again. I lean into him, exhausted but safe. “Can we… just stay like this for a minute? If that’s okay?”
He smiles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “That’s more than okay, Blue.”
I press my forehead to his chest, let him wrap around me. It takes a few minutes for my brain to stop spinning. The ache in my chest is sweet this time, and when I tip forward to kiss him, I let myself fall all the way into the deep end.