Noah was still inside him.
Ty had fallen asleep some time after the last round, body slack and heavy against the sheets. Noah hadn't moved. He remained buried deep, one arm locked loosely around Ty's waist, the other free. His expression was stern, almost severe, as he studied the younger man's face in the low light.
His fingers traced the line of Ty's cheekbone, then the curve of his jaw, the faint scar near his left eye.
Slow. Methodical. Like he was trying to map something that kept slipping away from his torn memory.
Who were you to me?
The question sat heavy in his mind. Flashes came without warning—sharp, incomplete. A rooftop under a red sunset. Shared protein bars. Ty laughing at something stupid, head tipped back. The feeling of carrying someone lighter than him through smoke and screaming. A name spoken like it mattered.
Noah's hand froze mid-trace. The memories weren't full. Just pieces. Enough to make his chest tighten with something that wasn't the usual mutation pain.
He shifted slightly without thinking, and the movement pushed him deeper into the heat still wrapped around him.
Ty grunted in his sleep, a low, soft sound, brows knitting for a second before smoothing out again.
Noah stared down at him. The quiet in his body was still there—no black veins, no grinding agony that was constantly stabbing into every nerve of his body—but the need hadn't left. It never fully left when Ty was this close.
He rolled his hips once, slow and testing. Ty's body clenched weakly around him in response. He did it again. Deeper. Controlled.
Ty's breathing changed. His lashes fluttered. Another slow thrust dragged a quieter sound out of him, and then his eyes opened, hazy and irritated.
"…Noah?" His voice was rough with sleep. Ty tried to shift, only to feel how deep Noah still was. A pout formed almost instantly. He reached up and tugged at Noah's dark hair, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to show his displeasure. "I can't. I'm done. My legs don't even work."
Noah's hand settled on his hip, holding him still. "One more."
"Fucking Christ."
"One more," Noah repeated, already moving again—slow, deep strokes that made Ty's breath hitch despite himself. "Then you can rest."
Ty's protest turned into a strained exhale as Noah adjusted the angle and pushed in harder. The pace stayed measured at first, almost deliberate, like Noah was savoring the way Ty's body still opened for him so easily.
Ty's fingers stayed tangled in his hair, tugging weakly every time a particularly deep thrust forced a sound out of him.
"You fucking basterd," Ty muttered, even as his hips began to move back to meet him.
"mhm." Noah flipped them without pulling out, putting Ty on his back and folding one of his legs up against his chest. The new position let him drive deeper. Ty's head tipped back into the pillow, mouth open on quiet, broken noises he clearly didn't want to make. Noah watched his face the entire time—every flicker of oversensitive pleasure, every clench of his inner walls, every moment Ty's body betrayed how much it still wanted this.
When Ty came again it was with a frustrated, almost angry sound, cock spilling weakly between them.
Noah followed soon after, burying himself to the hilt and staying there as he filled him a third time that night.
He didn't pull out immediately. He simply stayed locked deep, forehead pressed to Ty's temple, breathing until the last of the residual tension left his body.
Eventually he withdrew which made Ty make a soft, exhausted noise at the loss and the sudden emptiness.
The shower was already running when Ty dragged himself into the bathroom. He stood under the spray with his forearms braced against the cool tile, head hanging, letting the water cascade down his back and over the marks Noah had left. His body ached in deep, thorough ways. Cum still leaked slowly from him, washed away by the water only to be replaced by more.
I should leave.
The thought came clear and sharp. He could wait until Noah was busy with the Pride, take what supplies he could carry, and disappear into the surface ruins the way he used to. He was good at surviving alone. He had done it for years.
But if I leave, the rat still wins. And Noah still doesn't remember.
He squeezed his eyes shut, water running over his face. The old Noah—the one from the flashes, the one who used to share food and fall asleep against his shoulder—was still in there somewhere. Buried under mutation and blood and power. Leaving now felt like abandoning the last piece of something that had once been real.
He was still arguing with himself when the bathroom door opened. Noah stepped into the steam without a word, already stripped. He moved in behind Ty, chest pressing to his back, and reached around to tip Ty's face up under the water.
Their mouths met in a slow, wet kiss that tasted like heat and residual salt. Noah's hand slid down, fingers pushing gently back into him, scooping out the excess cum with deliberate, thorough motions while they kissed.
Ty shuddered, half from the overstimulation, half from the intimacy of it.
Noah didn't rush. He cleaned him out carefully under the spray, fingers working until the water ran clearer, all while keeping Ty pinned loosely against the tile with his body.
When he was done he turned Ty around and kissed him again, deeper this time, hands framing his face.
They stayed under the water until it started to cool.
Later, both of them dressed in simple black clothes, they sat on the edge of the ruined bed. Ty's hair was still damp. Noah's expression had returned to its usual stern lines, but the black veins remained gone.
Ty spoke first. "The two men I heard. Masked. One of them is higher up—sounded like he gives orders. They mentioned a rat already inside. They're waiting for a signal. And they know about me. They called me a complication."
Noah's eyes narrowed. "Did you see faces?"
"No. Full black, masks. But the authoritative one mentioned the fleshbound experiments making you worse. They're using your instability as the reason to move."
Noah was silent for a long moment, processing. "Rafe stays close to me. Jax is too loud to be useful to them. That leaves the mid-ranks and a few of the older lieutenants who were here before the mutation stabilized."
Ty leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "If we hunt them openly they'll go quiet. We need them to think you don't know. Let them keep planning while we watch who moves differently around the locked door and the specimen cages."
Noah's gaze flicked to him. "You're volunteering."
"I'm already in this," Ty said flatly. "You killed Kara. You're still half a monster. And somehow I'm the only thing that shuts the pain off. That means I don't get to walk away clean. So we do this smart. We find the rat. We cut it out. And then…" He trailed off, jaw tight.
Noah finished the thought without softness. "And then you decide if you stay."
Ty didn't answer. He simply nodded once. Noah stood, already shifting into the cold focus of the leader the Pride feared.
"Tomorrow we start mapping who has access to the restricted levels. You're with me for every meeting. If someone flinches when you're in the room, I want to know."
Ty looked up at him, still sore, still conflicted, but clear-eyed.
"Fine. But if we're doing this, you don't disappear into the experiments again without telling me. The more unstable you get, the faster they move."
Noah held his gaze for a long second. "Understood."