5' 3"
Ethan opened his eyes widely and jumped upright in bed with a wave of mild panic hitting him before he even realized where he was. For a second, the unfamiliar surroundings hit him hard. How many times had he woken up like this — in some strange place, next to a total stranger? Only now, the scene around him was nothing like the ones he'd faced back in his darker days. Beneath him was a soft bed, not some dirty, dusty mattress with old, nasty stains. The floor wasn't littered with empty beer cans, crumpled energy drink bottles, used needles, spoons, and rubber tourniquets. Instead, all he caught sight of was a few cat toys scattered around and a paintbrush lying under the kitchen table, which was probably shoved there by the cats themselves. Then Ethan realized he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, forcing his racing heart to settle down. The blanket was messed up on the floor. Noah was lying beside him on his back, one hand tucked lazily under his T-shirt, which had folded up, exposing his chest. The loose pajama pants Noah wore weren't doing much to hide how eager Morgan was to start the new day.
"Well, good morning to you too," Ethan murmured, resting his palm on Noah's stomach, feeling the soft thrum of his heartbeat beneath his hand. It was calm and steady. Peanut curled up in a perfect little ball, snuggled right against Noah's neck. Fluffy had claimed the other side of the bed, down by Ethan's feet. The moment Ethan sat up in the bed, Fluffy had lifted his head and was now staring at Thomson, yellow eyes wide and thoroughly unimpressed, tracking his every move.
Meanwhile, Noah was still asleep, breathing softly. Ethan debated whether he should let the guy sleep a little longer or whether he should take advantage of the opportunity to mess with him just a bit. Noah's bare stomach, warm under his hand, tipped the scales in favor of mischief. Ethan leaned down and brushed his lips over Noah's mouth. Peanut, woken by the movement, bopped Ethan lightly on the cheek with a soft paw with no claws, just a little "hey, watch it" kind of tap. Thomson turned to him. The cat, thrilled to have gotten his attention, flopped onto his back and stretched his front paws across Noah toward Ethan.
"Sorry, buddy, you're in the way," Ethan whispered, gently scooping the happy-to-be-scooped cat up and placing him next to a very cranky-looking Fluffy. Peanut immediately started grooming himself; Fluffy, after a moment of heavy-sighing cat judgment, followed suit. Ethan shifted his focus back to Noah, who was still blissfully asleep. A soft kiss Thomson placed behind Noah's ear earned him a low, incoherent mumble. Kisses on the cheek and the corner of Noah's mouth pulled a faint smile from him. It wasn't until Ethan pressed his lips to Morgan's neck that the guy finally rolled onto his side, turning away from him. Backing off now would've felt like cowardice — Ethan didn't want to lose the moment. He started planting kisses along the back of Noah's head, slipping a hand under his T-shirt until he found a soft nipple and brushed it lightly with his fingertips. It only took a few careful touches before it hardened under his hand.
'Well, well, well. Sensitive little thing, aren't you? Now I'm curious whether you've always been that way or if it's something you've picked up yourself.'
He made a mental note to ask Morgan later about that.
Ethan got closer to Noah from behind and gave him another teasing touch, which had finally given Thomson what he wanted. Morgan finally woke up, blinking sleepily as he turned his head toward him.
"What are you doing?"
"Waking you up."
"What time is it?"
"Does it matter?"
"Good morning."
"Good morning," Ethan nodded, trying to catch the still-unfocused gaze in Noah's sleepy eyes. Morgan clearly hadn't shaken off the last bits of his dreams yet, and it made him look adorably funny. His soft curls had turned into a full-blown bird's nest overnight. His face wasn't yet weighed down by worry or flushed with embarrassment. It looked sweet in its natural, unguarded state. Noah still seemed a little lost, but when Ethan leaned in to kiss him, a wide, genuine smile broke across the guy's face, and he eagerly met him halfway. Halfway, Ethan realized a moment too late that he was way too eager to answer back to his kiss. Somewhere in the middle of the kiss, Noah somehow managed to flip him over, pinning Ethan flat on his back and straddling him. Not that Ethan minded the enthusiastic response — at least not until he felt Morgan's fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers. That, he had to put a stop to. Catching Noah's hands, Ethan gently but firmly moved them away.
"I'm pretty sure you're not fully awake yet," he murmured, smiling into Noah's confused expression.
"Uh... yeah…" Morgan mumbled, entering the second stage of waking up — body first, mind second. "Oh God…" he exhaled, realizing that, yeah, maybe he hadn't been entirely aware of what he was doing just now.
"Are you comfortable up there?" Ethan asked whose morning was just as good as Morgan's; there was no question there. And at the moment, Noah was very comfortably sitting right on top of him. Morgan's face turned crimson in a flash. He jumped off Ethan immediately and tried to scoot away but didn't get far — Thomson grabbed him by the ankle with his left hand. Noah fell onto the mattress with an angry grumble.
"Let go of me."
"Not until we clear something up first," Ethan said calmly, tightening his grip just a little around Noah's ankle.
"Is something wrong?" Morgan asked quickly, misreading Thomson's serious tone.
"Yeah," Ethan nodded, drawing it out, just to get on Noah's nerves. "Something's definitely happened."
"What?"
"A kiss."
"Whose?"
"Ours."
"Um... that's not the first time," Noah pointed out.
"Exactly," Ethan agreed. "It's not the first time. And someone still hasn't followed through on our deal."
Noah frowned, trying to figure out what the hell Ethan was talking about. He was still a little slow from just waking up. The lightbulb finally went off about twenty seconds later. Whatever traces of sleep were left instantly dissolved into a mix of embarrassment and righteous indignation. Of course Noah remembered the promise he had made to Ethan about the kiss.
"Not right now!" he blurted out, struggling to free his leg from Ethan's grip.
"Why not now?"
"I... I need to prepare for it mentally!"
"I gave you plenty of time," Ethan smirked, slowly pulling Noah closer by the leg. "And as far as preparation goes... your body looks more than ready to me."
"I... I... I— Ugh, I can't!" Noah stuttered helplessly.
"You sure didn't sound so unsure when you made that promise," Ethan said, finally letting go of his ankle. The truth was that he hadn't been expecting much — he mostly just wanted to mess with Noah a little.
Morgan frowned.
"I'm not chicken," he snapped unexpectedly.
"I never said you were," Ethan shrugged his shoulders. "But let's face the facts—you're dodging your promise."
"...Just not right now," Noah muttered, looking away, his cheeks turning bright red.
"Fine. When, then? Give me a date and time. I'll mark it in my calendar," Ethan said, reaching for his phone on the dresser. Only instead of opening his calendar app, he just casually checked to see if he had any missed calls. Of course he didn't. The only three people that ever really called him were in the following situations: one of them was currently half-sprawled across the bed in front of him, and the other two were laid up in the hospital.
"No calendars, please," Noah said firmly, snatching the phone out of Ethan's hand and putting it back onto the dresser, screen facing down. Then, with a weird sort of determined look, he sat cross-legged in front of Ethan and stared down at his pajama pants. The good morning situation was finally starting to die down. Noah hooked a finger under the waistband of both his pants and boxers and pulled them out, peering very seriously at his lower half that was usually hidden under the clothes.
"Looking for something?" Ethan teased him.
"No... everything's still where it's supposed to be," Noah answered without thinking — then realized he'd just walked straight into the joke and shot Thomson a murderous look. "Your request is ridiculously embarrassing," he declared, trying to sound stern. "You do realize that not everyone could go through with something like this, right?!"
"Yeah. Not everyone," Ethan said with a sly smile. "That's kind of the point."
"I still don't really get where exactly the fun is for you."
"In the fact that someone would go that far just because I wanted them to do something not everyone would be willing to do," Ethan replied easily.
"So basically it's some kind of proof of how much I care, right?"
"No," Ethan frowned slightly, frustrated that he couldn't seem to put his feelings into the right words and feeling like Noah was getting the wrong idea. "Not at all. I don't need any proof," he said quickly, feeling weirdly uncomfortable. Noah's way of articulating the situation felt horribly wrong to Ethan. "Forget it," Ethan sighed, realizing he'd landed in one of those rare moments where he had no idea how to explain himself properly.
"No way! I made a promise!" Noah said, all fiery and determined—though that fire barely lasted a couple seconds under Ethan's steady gaze.
"Oh God," Noah groaned, his entire face lighting up bright red — and not just his face, but his neck and even his shoulders.
"I told you, we don't have to—" Ethan started, but Noah cut him off with a quick gesture that could only mean, 'Shut up and let me do this.'
"When I made a promise, nobody was twisting my arm," Noah said stubbornly — and yeah, that was true.
"Not gonna argue with that," Ethan agreed.
"It's just... I can see that you're looking," Noah mumbled under his breath.
"That's kind of the whole point," Ethan teased.
"No, the point was that you would see. Not me," Noah blurted out.
"Ooh... want me to cover your eyes?"
"I-I don't know…"
"I've got a better idea."
Ethan shifted, sitting up, spreading his legs a little, and patting the mattress between them.
"Come sit with your back facing me," he offered, already waiting for Noah to argue that idea, too.
"Oh, o-okay."
Noah crawled over and settled between Ethan's legs, his back pressed against Thomson's chest, practically burning up with embarrassment.
"Now you can't see what I see," Ethan whispered right into Noah's ear. Noah shuddered and let out a shaky breath in response.
"But I still know that you can see everything," Noah said back.
"Is it some new condition I'm not aware of?" Ethan smirked and kissed Noah's neck. Morgan shook his head. His good morning situation was slowly gaining back the new points again.
"You're awfully sensitive here," Ethan murmured, planting another kiss on Noah's neck. "And here," he added, brushing a few fingers over Morgan's nipples. The reaction was immediate. "I'm curious—have they always been like this, or are you the hands-on type?"
"Ethan!" The level of indignation in Noah's voice hinted at the right answer.
"So, the second option then?"
"Would you shut up already? Sometimes I think you need to get your mouth washed out with soap! Oh—" Noah flinched, but then he heard Ethan's laugh and got angrier. "Do you have to say everything out loud?"
"What did you usually picture when you played with your nipples? Was it, like, a tongue in your imagination?"
"Ethan! Just—stop talking!"
"I'm a firm believer in talking things through," Thomson replied smoothly, teasing both of Noah's nipples with his fingers and twisting them a little.
"And what exactly… mm… is the issue up for discussion r-right n-now?" Noah managed to ask.
"How do you like to be touched, and where do you like it? That's the question," Ethan whispered, letting his right hand trail lower. "How about here?" he asked, applying gentle pressure near Morgan's belly button.
"I-I like it lower," Noah admitted in a breath.
Ethan slid a warm hand to the lower part of Morgan's abdomen while still caressing his nipple with the other hand. Ethan ran a slow line with his tongue from Noah's shoulder to his ear and whispered, "So, what are you waiting for? Do it."
"A-ah… yeah… I… okay…" Noah's voice was scattered, his hand trembling as it slipped beneath the waistband of his pajamas. Nervous as he was, the tension was clearly giving way to something else—something eager. Ethan couldn't help but continue teasing Noah.
"Oh, not with your dry hand, come on," Ethan said with playful exasperation, gently pulling Noah's hand back. "Do you have anything for that?"
"Y-yeah."
"Ooh."
"Shut up! Open the top drawer of the dresser…" Morgan mumbled.
"Do you really keep the lube right under the photos of your sweet grandma and kittens?" Thomson gasped theatrically. "You little villain!"
"Ethan!"
"Filthy, filthy boy."
"Stop it!"
"And still acting like an innocent child."
"You're not helping at all!"
"I wasn't planning on helping. My job is to make things harder for you and watch how you get out of it. Or more precisely—how fast you cum," Ethan drawled, opening the drawer and fishing the lubricant out. "Oh? Mango flavor? Didn't know you were such a gourmand."
Noah frowned and held out his hand silently, waiting for Ethan to squeeze some out. Of course, Thomson didn't rush. First, he dabbed a bit of the clear gel onto his finger and licked it.
"Okay, that does taste like mango."
"Stop eating my lube!"
"I haven't tasted your lube yet," Ethan smirked, finally squeezing some gel into Noah's palm. Noah immediately dipped his hand under the thin fabric of his pajamas.
"Well now I can't see a thing," Ethan remarked and, without warning, slipped both of his hands under Morgan's thighs to tug both his pants and underwear down to his knees, letting his palms roam over the naked skin. Noah instinctively tried to close his legs, suddenly shy again, but a few more kisses to the neck began to loosen him up.
"You shave smoothly," Ethan murmured.
"Stop it! Do you really have to comment on everything you see?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Ethan's hands moved from Noah's hips to his stomach, then down between his thighs, gently urging them apart. The view was picture-perfect.
"Morgan, go ahead; what are you waiting for?"
Noah, who had been gripping himself tightly, finally moved his hand up and down his penis with deliberate slowness. Just a few moves left him already trembling; every breath was shaking with tension. Thomson's gaze darkened, and he swallowed hard.
"E-Ethan!"
"Yeah?"
"The cats are watching us!" Noah blurted suddenly. Peanut and Fluffy, who'd jumped off the bed the moment sleepy Noah had crawled on top of Thomson, were now in different corners of the room—both staring at their owner with those wide, unblinking eyes.
"Let them watch."
"I… I can't do this like that!" Noah insisted, though his hand only slowed—it didn't stop.
"Oh, so you're telling me that every time you get the urge to masturbate, you lock the cats in the bathroom first?"
"What? Of course not!" Noah said quickly. "I—I just go to the bathroom myself."
"Every time?"
"Well, yeah."
"So let me get this straight—you've never jerked off in bed?"
Morgan mumbled something completely unintelligible in response.
"In that case, we definitely shouldn't stop," Ethan whispered into Noah's ear, like the devil himself. "I love being your first for things."
Noah let out a strangled moan. His pace quickened. Thomson slid his right hand down under Morgan's stomach so Noah's penis was right between his index and middle fingers. He pressed them together, applying just a bit of extra pressure—teasing, not taking over. Ethan wasn't planning on helping Morgan. He was supposed to deal with it on his own; that was the agreement. But stepping aside completely? This also wasn't in Thomson's style. The warmed-up lube had started to drip down to his hand. Morgan's breathing was getting more and more shallow, his whole body tensed, and fresh drops kept on appearing at the tip of his penis. Ethan bit his lower lip, trying to ignore the sudden, hungry urge to use his mouth instead.
"No need to rush. We've got all the time in the world," Ethan whispered, knowing full well his words would only push Noah closer to the edge. Predictably, Morgan's knees twitched inward from the tension. That's when Ethan decided to turn up the heat just a little. His lube-slick hand wandered lower, pressing against that tight ring of muscle on Noah's behind. Ethan had no intention of going further inside him—just light teasing, just enough to break his composure. Noah suddenly opened his legs widely in response to the contact, giving in to the feeling entirely. Understanding how tense he was getting when Thomson was whispering some filthy comments into his ears, Thomson continued telling everything that was getting in his mind. Noah didn't last even ten minutes. The tension hit all at once—Noah pressed himself hard against Thomson, and, just as his whole body locked up, Ethan grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him close, while his free hand slid into place just in time to catch Noah cum.
Noah didn't move for a while. He was practically lying on top of Ethan. His eyes were closed, trying to get his breathing under control. He only pushed himself off once he'd fully come down from the rush of everything he'd just felt. That was when he finally noticed Ethan's hand.
"Why did you…?" Morgan couldn't even finish the question.
"So we don't ruin the sheets," Thomson shrugged, already fishing around in the same drawer for some tissues. While he was wiping his hand clean, Morgan watched him, looking like he wanted to ask something—but couldn't quite bring himself to say it.
"And you…?" he finally managed. "Is it your turn now?"
"Yeah, I'd say so," Ethan nodded. "Mind if I use the bathroom?" he asked, mostly out of politeness, already sliding out from under Noah and stepping off the bed. He grabbed the lube tube on the way.
"You don't have to go… You can… You can do it here…" Noah mumbled, barely audible.
"Are you kidding?" Ethan cut him off. "The cats are here, don't you remember?" He gestured dramatically. "They'll be watching!"
"Ethan!" was the last thing Thomson heard before he felt a pillow hitting him right in the face—thrown with perfect aim by Morgan.
5' 8"-5' 9"
While Ethan was taking a shower, Noah splashed some water on his face at the kitchen sink, trying to wash away the last traces of sleep and the overwhelming, dizzying aftermath of what had just happened. Of all the things he thought might happen on a sunny morning like this, that sure hadn't been the first one on the list. His head was spinning with so many feelings. If he weren't such a private person, he'd already have texted Andrea and Scott about it.
Noah Morgan: "Can you believe what just happened?!"
Noah Morgan: "The stuff he gets me to do every time!"
Noah Morgan: "And then he calls me the filthy boy! Unreal!"
Noah Morgan: "So what if I like drawing niche erotica? It's called having an imagination!"
Noah Morgan: "Meanwhile, he doesn't even try to fantasize about things; he dives right in!"
Andrea would've definitely shot back with something like, "I told you he's insanely hot!" And Scott, seeing her message, would've immediately commented something jealous like, "Insanely hot? Or just insane?"
Noah couldn't help letting out a snort at this imaginary group chat. He would've kept picturing their reactions a bit longer, but Peanut had other plans. The cat was rubbing against his legs insistently, reminding him that it was high time to be fed, and he didn't stop until there was actual food in his bowl. Fluffy, meanwhile, was lounging on the dresser, right on top of the photos he'd knocked over earlier, thumping his tail lazily against the top drawer—the one with the interesting contents. He didn't even budge when Noah filled his bowl. The only thing he offered his owner was judgmental stares.
"Stop looking at me like that!" Noah grimaced. "I'm a grown man—I can do whatever I damn well please. You don't like it? Then maybe you should've looked the other way!"
The judgmental stare remained the same.
Noah tried his best to ignore that cat and turned his attention to making breakfast. By the time Ethan stepped out of the bathroom, already dressed in his own clothes, he was greeted with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, toast, a steaming cup of coffee, and a salt shaker on the side. The room smelled amazing with food, while soft music was playing from Noah's laptop speakers.
"Whoa, thanks," Ethan said, looking at the plate. "Damn, this takes me back to when my mom used to make breakfasts like this."
"Mine too," Noah nodded, trying to act like it was just another morning and not one where he'd been jerking off in front of his boyfriend thirty minutes ago. "So, what do you usually have for breakfast now?" he asked as he sat across from Ethan and dug into his own plate.
"It depends," Ethan shrugged, playing along with the casual small talk. Whether he picked up on Noah's need for a little routine during this hot morning—or just needed it himself—was unclear. "Most mornings I don't eat at all. I'm usually not hungry when I wake up," he added… right before shoving another piece of bacon like he hadn't eaten in days. Peanut instantly appeared at his feet, standing up like a prairie dog and meowing softly, clearly expecting a treat. Ethan ignored him cold-heartedly. "This morning's an exception," he added. Watching Ethan tear through breakfast like a man possessed, Noah quietly slid the remaining bacon from his own plate onto Ethan's, choosing the peanut butter toast instead. He didn't even get through one slice before the laptop lightened with an incoming video call.
"Are you going to take that?" Ethan asked, noticing Noah hesitate.
"It's my mom."
"So?"
So! You never know what to expect from that woman!
Noah sighed, turned the laptop to face himself, and answered the call.
"Morning, Mom," he mumbled, immediately noticing the camera caught a sight of the unmade bed where things had gotten very indecent not long ago. Oh God, how was he supposed to unsee all of this?
"Good morning, sweetheart," his mom chirped. "Heavens, are you eating anything? You look like you've lost weight again!" She cried out dramatically.
"The toast with peanut butter in my hand doesn't count?" Noah asked, shoving the last bite into his mouth and holding up two more slices for proof. That earned him a bright peal of laughter from her.
"So, have you started prepping for Halloween yet?" she asked with curiosity. Her interest wasn't surprising—up until Noah left for college, his mom had always made all his Halloween costumes by hand. Noah had been Beetlejuice. The Penguin from Batman. Captain Hook from Peter Pan. No matter what character he picked, his mom always made sure he'd get the costume he wanted. When he was fourteen, Noah decided he wanted to go as Draco Malfoy, and that October, even his dad got involved by crafting a Nimbus 2001 broomstick for him in the garage. His classmates joked that he was the fattest Malfoy they'd ever seen, but Noah didn't give a damn. On that broom, he felt like a snarky heartthrob, no matter what anyone said.
"Hmm… I'm still thinking about it. But I might finally go as Tate Langdon this year," Noah said, chewing on his second piece of toast.
"That's the guy from the first season of American Horror Story? With the skeleton makeup?" his mom asked, frowning as she tried to recall. Noah had been dreaming of dressing as Tate for three years now.
"That's the one!" he nodded eagerly. "Andrea promised to do my makeup. Not the exact same one, of course, but I think she'll capture the look pretty well."
"I just don't get why you always pick villains," she sighed, clearly disappointed. Noah just shrugged his shoulders in response. Wasn't the answer obvious? He loved villains! "His costume wasn't even that special!"
"Yeah, but the backstory, though? Plus, I don't really need to go shopping for the costume—most of the clothes I can pull from my own closet. I just need some heavy-soled boots and maybe a toy shotgun. I'll get the shotgun from the kids' aisle. As for the boots… maybe I'll borrow a pair," he glanced toward Ethan, wondering what size shoes he wore. If they were the same size, would Thomson actually let him borrow them then?
"And how is your boyfriend going to dress up?" his mom asked, cool as ever. Noah swallowed a little too loudly. Ethan, who had already finished his breakfast and was now slowly sipping his coffee (salted, for some reason), didn't take his eyes off Morgan. He was watching him like he was reading between the lines of every word.
"He's doing a character from a book," Noah mumbled, already guessing where the conversation was headed next.
"And why aren't you doing a costume as a couple?" his mom asked, half-teasing.
"Yeah, why not?" Ethan's lips silently echoed the question.
"Because there's no character in his book that fits me," Noah muttered.
"That's not true," Ethan jumped in unexpectedly. "There's Kevin Day, for instance. But honestly, I think you'd make a better Nicky Hemmick. He's got curly hair too."
"And is Nicky your character's boyfriend?"
"No, he's his cousin."
"So you think it's totally normal to go as a matching costume… with cousins?"
"Why not?"
"And how do you even know that?"
"I figured I should read the books. Gotta know what I'm getting myself into."
"Sweetheart, I'm still here," his mom reminded him with a shy smile. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't alone?" she asked, acting as if she was offended, but Noah knew that tone all too well. It was curiosity, pure and simple.
"Um… I…" Noah's eyes ran between his mom and Ethan, struggling to decide how to handle the situation. Thankfully, Thomson took the lead. He got up from his seat, came over to Noah, leaned toward the camera until his face filled the frame, and gave a little wave.
"Good morning. My name's Ethan."
"Oh, I know who you are!" his mom exclaimed with all the enthusiasm of a giddy schoolgirl. "Agnes," she added, introducing herself.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Agnes," Ethan replied with a smile so charming it made even Noah flush.
"Oh my God, stop flirting with my mom!" Noah burst out.
"What? I haven't even started yet."
Noah's mom burst into laughter again.
"So early in the morning and you're already at Noah's place! Youth these days!" she said, eyes sparkling. "Reminds me of how your dad used to stand outside my window at 6am, just waiting for me to wake up so he could wish me good morning!" She smiled nostalgically. "He had to wait a long time—I was never a morning person!"
"Same here," Ethan agreed. "That's why I figured I'd just stay the night."
"Jesus, Ethan!" Noah tried to push him out of the camera's field of view.
"What? We just had a sleepover. We really did, Mrs. Agnes, I swear," Ethan said, looking right into the camera.
Noah's mom was laughing so hard now, she had to hold her stomach.
"You've got yourself one brutally honest young man," she said, delighted.
"I just don't see the point in hiding anything from the parents," Ethan replied simply.
"And you are absolutely right about that!" she beamed.
NO FREAKING WAY!!!
"Oh, for God's sake…" Noah buried his face in his hands, praying Ethan did have some kind of filter. THERE ARE THINGS YOU JUST DON'T TELL PARENTS.
Thankfully, Thomson returned to his coffee, and his mom, sensing she was the third wheel, quickly wrapped things up, mentioning she had to run to her Pilates class.
Noah shut his laptop and gave Ethan a dark, pointed look.
"What the hell was that all about?"
"What do you mean? I just met your mom," Ethan said with a smile. "It had to happen at some point, didn't it?" He raised an eyebrow when Noah didn't answer right away.
"I… I never really thought about it."
"You didn't introduce Coleman to your parents?" Ethan asked, surprised.
"I was going to… but never got the chance."
"So, another first for me to add to the list?" Ethan smirked, finishing his coffee. Noah said nothing, clearly feeling confused after the conversation. Most people treated meeting their partner's parents like standing trial—tense, stressful, and nerve-wracking. Ethan acted like it was nothing special.
"Is something wrong?" Ethan asked, noticing that Noah was still grumpy.
"Not exactly… It just felt like you didn't care," he mumbled.
"Didn't care about what?"
"About meeting my parents."
"If I didn't care, I wouldn't have said hello at all," Ethan replied calmly. "Maybe I don't react the way you'd expect, but that's just not how I was built."
"R-right… I'm overthinking things again."
"If it can make you feel better, when the time comes to meet your parents face-to-face, I'll start sweating nervously a full week in advance."
Noah couldn't help but smile.
"I'm not buying it."
"How rude. And yet, I promise I will," Ethan assured him.
They finished their breakfast in silence. Peanut, persistent as ever, continued begging Ethan for food that no longer existed. Chill music continued playing from the laptop speakers. Noah was sipping his coffee, glancing at Ethan from time to time, debating whether to ask what had been haunting him since last night or let it go a while longer. Eventually, he gave in and asked a straight question.
"Can I ask what happened yesterday?" he asked gently. "Or… are you not ready to talk about it yet?"
Ethan was ready—so he let it all out in one breath, dumping the entire story on Noah and shocking poor Morgan for the second time that morning. Noah had always believed stuff like that only happened in TV shows or in the lives of people completely removed from his own. But Ethan's story? It didn't seem real at all. It just didn't fit into Noah's idea of how the world worked. He didn't fully process it until they visited the hospital—first Ethan's dad, then Duncan, who was finally awake. Mr. Thomson Sr. was practically bouncing off the walls, trying to convince everyone he was ready to check out (he and Ethan screamed at each other about that for a solid twenty minutes. Two Thomsons arguing like lawyers in a courtroom—that was definitely a show!). Duncan, on the other hand, looked way worse, though he still managed to toss a couple of greasy jokes Ethan's way. After the hospital, the boys stopped by Noah's grandma's place, and Morgan couldn't help but joke that they were having the best weekend ever. Ethan appreciated the sarcasm.
Later that evening, as Thomson pulled up outside Noah's house, Morgan said softly,
"If you want… you can stay the night again."
Ethan hesitated. He tapped the steering wheel, lost in thought for nearly a full minute, before finally answering, just as quietly:
"Yes, I would like to."
***
On Monday, Noah couldn't stop smiling. He practically floated across campus, radiating joy like a walking mood lamp. As Scott said, pretending to shield himself, Noah was shamelessly leaking pure happiness across a three-mile range. Noah just grinned and lunged in for a hug, saying, "Oh no, Scott! My happiness rays are too close! Careful, or you'll become happy too!" Scott declared that Noah had officially lost his mind from being in love. Andrea snapped that maybe Scott should shut up until he was bursting with joy just from sitting next to her—which, clearly, he wasn't, if his sanity remained intact. That kicked off twenty minutes of Scott insisting he was happy—so happy, in fact, that Noah couldn't even imagine that level of joy. His brain had been fried and launched into orbit long ago. Nicole, frowning over a worksheet, nodded absentmindedly to both sides of the argument as she was taking some notes. The whole thing could've gone on forever, if not for the sudden buzz of half the cafeteria's phones going off. Everyone knew what that meant. The anonymous chat updated. Noah glanced at the latest post slamming him and… felt absolutely nothing. Not a thing. His mood didn't change a bit. Maybe because ever since Ethan's big moment in the cafeteria, most people had backed off. Or maybe because Noah knew—no matter what anyone said—Ethan was there on his side. He always had his back. And he always would. So Morgan put his phone down and went right back to glowing like nothing had happened.
"Damn, Noah, you've grown a freakin' bulletproof hide!" Scott said, genuinely impressed.
"Damn right I have," Morgan smirked, pleased with himself. "It takes more than that to get to me now."
Well…
The universe heard that. By Wednesday, the chat updated again.
This time—it got him.
5' 3"
One of Ethan's professors got sick, which left him with a long gap between classes. He figured he might as well use the time to swing by for an unscheduled visit to Duncan.
"A couple more visits like this and the nurses will start thinking you've got a secret crush on me," the bodyguard joked the moment he saw Thomson in the doorway.
"I couldn't care less what anyone thinks," Ethan replied. "Besides, I'm pretty sure the nurses have already married you off to my dad. Just let me know the wedding date, so I can carry the rings down the aisle on a little velvet pillow."
He nodded toward the small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on the nightstand beside Duncan's bed—the kind Audrey always liked.
"Me and Michael? That even sounds hilarious!" Duncan chuckled in disbelief.
"What's so funny about it?" Ethan asked, looking at the flowers like they were suddenly fascinating. "You're always together. You trail after him like the world's most devoted housewife. It's a perfect match."
"Can't even imagine Michael being the bottom," Duncan snorted.
"Good," Ethan shot back. "Because that role is already taken—by you."
"You're out of your damn mind! I'm the definition of alpha male," Duncan protested, flexing his left arm and giving his bicep a little showy squeeze.
"Exactly. Those are the most fun to fuck."
"Hey!" Duncan barked, eyes wide. "Okay, this convo is officially gone off the rails. I'll stick with being straight, thanks."
"Suit yourself," Ethan shrugged, brushing a fingertip against one of the flowers. "When was the last time Audrey came by?"
"She stopped by this morning."
"How's she doing?"
"Hard to say. She hides her feelings well—like all of your Thomson family," Duncan said with a smirk.
Ethan sat down on the edge of the bed and handed the bodyguard a paper bag.
"Please tell me that's not more fruit."
"What, you got something against fruit?"
"I'm sick of you people bringing me rabbit food! How many times do I have to say it? I want a steak. A fat, juicy steak! Or a bloody rare beefsteak! Hell, why not both at once?!"
"Doctor's orders."
"Oh, screw the doctors—ow," Duncan frowned and clutched his side; the pain got him from all the dramatic gesturing.
"Serves you right," Ethan smirked, noting that Duncan actually looked a whole lot better. Still a long way from full recovery, but progress was progress. Then Ethan's phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it automatically, half-sure it was a text from Morgan—only to freeze the moment the screen lit up.
"You good?" Duncan perked up, noticing the way Ethan's expression shifted in a blink.
"Shit…" came the low mutter. "Looks like they've raised the stakes."
"What are you talking about?"
Ethan didn't answer. He just turned the screen toward Duncan. It was a photo, freshly posted in the anonymous chat. In this photo, there was an old lady, beaming from ear to ear, holding up a canvas. Only instead of another one of her seascapes, the paint splashed across it said:
My grandson is just as good in bed as I used to be. Grandma's whore lessons really paid off! Nobody walks away unsatisfied! Noah knows how to make you feel good!"