Chapter 12 Noah
Noah
It’s been hours of cleaning, and Leo spiralling. Fixing Rachel’s gate and more cleaning. When finally, around five am we both have managed to finish every task. It was a hell of a night, one I am pretty sure none of us will forget for a while.
He is cooking me dinner, the one he promised when the night started, and I am sitting on Rachel’s favorite spot in the kitchen.
The one she usually sits in when I am cooking breakfast. Watching Leo cook is a spectacle on its own.
He is shirtless, with wet hair from the shower he just took.
The smell of the food, and the way he stirs the sauce he is making for what I think is some sort of pasta, makes me drool, and not exactly about the food.
It’s him I am drooling for. I wonder if it’s a trauma response to get horny over the fact that we had to hide a body not too long ago, or if I am just fucked up.
Might be the fact that I read books that can traumatize even the most mentally stable people, or I might just be insane.
I get up and walk behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist; he is taller than me. Just the perfect height to be able to hug him comfortably. His hand strokes mine without stopping what he is doing. It’s a sweet type of acknowledgement.
“Noah, I am trying to cook.” He tells me softly, and I smile, kissing his back.
“I know.” I whisper as my lips brush over his soft skin. The smell of Rachel’s soap suits him so well. The scent of caramel complements his natural scent.
“What are you doing?” He whispers, but is it really a question?
It sounds more like a plea for more. Begging to be distracted.
I reach for the stove and turn it off. He turns around, his eyes finding mine, and he leans over.
His lips brush against mine, but he doesn’t kiss me.
He teases me and pulls away, making me beg for more in silence.
I reach for him, and he pulls back, smirking.
“What do you want, pretty boy?” His voice is sultry, full of promises.
It makes me want him even more. It makes me want to beg for him.
Plea for him to use me as he pleases. Is that fucked up?
Wanting him after what happened earlier?
If it is, I don’t care. Who would judge me if they saw him this way anyway?
Half-naked, with his blond hair slightly falling over his face, and his tattoos standing out even more under the moisture of his freshly washed skin.
“You” I manage to say, the words barely leaving my mouth as he kisses the side of my neck. “I want you.” I whisper on his lips when he kisses me. A kiss that is both soft and passionate at the same time.
He deepens the kiss, stepping forward while I instinctively step backward until my back presses against the kitchen table.
I can’t even think how many times I have fantasised about hot kitchen sex while reading smut, not one of those times compares to how this kiss feels.
It’s not even sex, and it feels like my world is crashing in a million fireworks.
It’s chemistry you can’t deny. This man touches me, and my world stops.
It’s as if I am in those VHS tapes in the ’90s, and the image is frozen but the sound is still heard.
I feel like the world is this sound, still going, still moving around me, but at the same time it has stopped altogether.
“I was trying to make you dinner, you know.” He says the words with pretend annoyance in his voice, between kisses and touches, that tell an entirely different story.
His lips say, ‘I don’t like the interruption,” but his touch says, ‘Interrupt me again, make it count.’ It’s a challenge unspoken.
A message written in secret, only for me to decipher.
“Techically you were making breakfast.” I smile and kiss his chin and his neck, and then travel my way to his chest. Kissing, and biting, leaving unseen marks until I am on my knees in front of him.
“If you haven’t slept, it’s still dinner.” He argues.
I unbutton the tight pants he is wearing, before I look up, finding his eyes with mine.
“It can wait a little longer then.” I pull the fabric down, taking his boxers with it, freeing his cock in the process.
I am not too shocked to see that he is already hard for me but just to be cheeky and annoying I add, “You don’t seem to be too mad about it”.
“Careful there, pretty boy, don’t bite off more than you can chew.” He warns trying to keep my bratty attitude at bay. Not that it’s working. It only encourages me to poke more. I would love to see how much I can make him react.
“Yes, sir.” I say and pretend to bite the tip of his cock.
He laughs, a sound that makes my whole body freeze, not in a bad way, but in the way your heart skips a beat when your crush enters the room, or when you meet someone you know, from ‘hello’ he will be someone in your life.
You sure know what I am talking about; it’s that feeling you get with some people.
It’s an instinct, maybe a warning. It’s your intuition telling you this person will be the love of your life or the biggest dick you will ever meet. That feeling.
“Behave.” He growls, but I ignore him. Life is too short to behave.
It doesn’t have a meaning if you do. You can be the good type of person all you like, but you never know when your life will end.
Alex sure didn’t. Leo sure didn’t know he would end it for him either.
A moment can change everything. It can ruin your life or make it a wonderful fairytale.
So why would I behave when I can do this instead?
I think to myself as I pass my tongue over the sensitive skin of his cock, from the base to the tip.
His reaction is everything, closed eyes, a low hum of approval. And for that alone, I do it again.
“Am I behaving enough?” I ask before I slide his cock inside my mouth.
I take him deep, reaching the back of my throat before I release him just enough, until he slips out of my mouth and I turn to look in his eyes.
“Is this behaving in your standards, Sir?” I tease, and a grin appears on his face.
His hand finds the back of my head, fingers weaved in my hair and I am pushed back down until his cock is reaching the back of my throat again.
This time he takes control. His dick slips through my lips and down my throat and back out again and again.
Each thrust is slow, intended. He is not chasing his orgasm in a hurry. He is devouring the attention.
“Fuck, your doing so good sucking my cock pretty boy.” He whispers between moans and I swirl my tongue around his shaft earning a hum of approval.
“Good boy.” He hums. “Fuck.” He growls as I take him deeper, his hand never leaving my hair.
He controls my movements just enough to allow him to fuck my mouth without once hurting me.
It’s a talent to know how to coordinate your body so well that even a blowjob becomes a whole activity.
“I need more.” He tells me, with a warning in his voice, and pulls away.
“Bend over the table.” I am not one to argue.
If he wants more, he gets more. Anything he wants.
I was willing to hide a fucking body for him, taking a cock in the ass is the last thing on the list of the things I would do for him, but at the same time it’s on the very top.
He kneels behind me, and slides the gray sweatpants I stole from Rachel’s closet off my body.
It’s an oversized pair, I am pretty sure she stole it from someone years ago.
It doesn’t fit her, but on me it’s perfect.
It highlights just what needs to be highlighted, and even though I could technically wear my own clothes since we threw them into the dryer and are all warm and toasty now, I chose to wear those instead.
Maybe I hoped for this, wanting easy access, or maybe I wanted comfort.
Either way, this works perfectly in my favor at this moment, and I am a little proud of my choice.
He pulls my body until I am bent over the way he wants; his hand grips my ass, revealing the tight hole in front of him.
He doesn’t waste time, passing his tongue over the sensitive area while his hand grips my cock in a tight hold.
He strokes as he licks my ass, his tongue slightly pushing in.
It’s the best thing that happened tonight.
I close my eyes, basking in the attention he is giving me.
I let him please me, lick me, and prep me all at once until he is satisfied, and then he pulls away and I feel the distance growing, panic filling my body.
I part my lips to complain, to ask for more, because he sure can’t be serious.
He is not going to leave me like that. But I don’t.
Because he kisses my back and my neck, and I see him in the mirror, Rachel conveniently hangs over her kitchen table as he spits in his hand, lathering his cock with it, before he slowly pushes inside me.
I close my eyes, my breath deepens, and I try to adjust my body to take his size, but it still hurts in a way that both feels good and uncomfortable.
He is big, and even though I never had any issues with my own size, the fact that he is so big makes everything a little better.
He grips my hips with both hands to control his thrusts as he slowly starts fucking me.
“Stroke yourself.” He barks the order, as his thrusts start to feel greedier. Faster. He is chasing that orgasm he so generously let slip from him just moments before.
“Yes, sir.” I say with a smirk finding his eyes with mine through the mirror.
A grin decorates his face, and fuck me if he doesn’t look like a god fucking my ass. Every move he makes feels like I am about to see stars and fireworks all at once. I stroke myself faster, matching his rhythm. Moans leave both of us, and the sound alone can make me cum.
“Good boy, faster, I want to see you spill over the table as I come inside you.” He whispers into my ear. Every word highlighted by a hint of growl. Just a low rumble that makes every cell in my body wanting to satisfy him.
“Fuck you feel so good pretty boy.” He praises. “ So tight.”
My eyes roll in the back of my head as I feel his cock spill inside me and my own release hits me like a brick. Hot strings of cum fall onto the wooden surface of the table until I am empty and satisfied, and honestly a little hungry.
He pulls out, and I reach down and pull the grey sweatpants and my boxers back up. He does the same. “I think that breakfast now sounds kind of amazing. Do you think the food can be salvaged?” I ask as I turn to look at him. He kisses the top of my head with a smile.
“Go take a shower, it will be ready in ten minutes.” He says in a soft tone, which is a vast contrast to the demanding man who was speaking just minutes ago.
“Yes, sir.” I respond with a little smirk.
As I said, life is too short not to act on your fantasies.
Even if those include teasing the guy you helped with a dead body.
Besides, who wouldn’t help a man like Leo hide a body?
Probably someone insane. This man can ask me to burn the world for him, and I will happily oblige.