The next day, they both take a walk.
As they walked the winding path through the park, the late morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
Skye kept his gaze fixed ahead, his steps measured and deliberate, the soft fabric of his oversized sweater brushing against his thighs with each movement.
He'd chosen the outfit that morning without much thought—a fitted pair of slim jeans that hugged his lean legs, paired with the sweater that draped loosely over his slender frame, the neckline slipping just enough to hint at the delicate collarbone beneath.
It was comfortable, familiar, a quiet expression of the femininity he embraced without apology, especially since he knew Noah saw him for who he was: a guy who liked boys, who dressed in ways that felt right on his skin. But knowing didn't stop the way Noah's eyes sometimes lingered, turning simple glances into something charged.
Noah walked beside him, his stride easy and confident, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.
The silence stretched, not uncomfortable but expectant, like the calm before a storm Skye wasn't sure he wanted to weather. He could feel Noah's presence like a magnet, pulling at the edges of his awareness—the subtle shift of muscle under fabric, the faint warmth radiating from his body as their arms occasionally grazed.
"You know," Noah said finally, his voice breaking the quiet with that teasing lilt that always set Skye's nerves on edge, "you look good out here.
All soft and brooding, like you're plotting your escape from me already." He glanced sideways, his lips curving into a smirk that was equal parts amusement and challenge.
Skye's cheeks warmed, and he tugged at the hem of his sweater, a shy habit he couldn't quite shake. "I'm not plotting anything. Just walking. And stop staring—it's creepy." His words came out softer than intended, laced with that inherent shyness that had followed him since the adoption at twelve, when his fragile build and gentle features had made the world tiptoe around him, assuming fragility where there was quiet strength.
Noah chuckled, low and rumbling, stepping a fraction closer so their shoulders bumped deliberately. "Creepy? Nah, that's just me appreciating the view. You've got this whole... ethereal thing going on. Makes a guy wonder what it'd be like to mess it up a little." His tone dipped, playful but edged with something darker, more intent, as if he knew exactly how his words landed.
Skye's breath hitched, a secret flutter stirring low in his belly. He quickened his pace, hoping the movement would distract from the heat blooming under his skin. God, why does he have to say shit like that? In the privacy of his mind, the thoughts unspooled—flashes of Noah's hands on him, not just gripping but exploring, teasing out those hidden desires Skye buried deep.
That night after Noah had left the apartment, sleep had evaded him until exhaustion pulled him under, only for dreams to take over: Noah's mouth on his neck, whispering taunts while fingers traced the lines of his body, pressing him down into the sheets.
He'd woken tangled in sweat-dampened fabric, his arousal throbbing insistently, a guilty secret he chased with hurried touches in the shower, imagining Noah's voice urging him on.
But he couldn't let Noah see any of that. Not yet. Skye forced a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest to create some barrier. "You're impossible. This engagement doesn't give you the right to... whatever this is." His voice wavered just a touch, betraying the internal war—the slow, insidious pull toward Noah that scared him as much as it intrigued.
They reached a secluded spot by the pond, where willows dipped their branches into the water. Noah stopped, turning to face him fully, his expression shifting from teasing to something more probing. "Maybe not. But admit it, Skye—you're not running. Part of you likes the chase." He leaned against a tree trunk, arms folding across his broad chest, eyes locking onto Skye's with an intensity that made the air feel thinner.
Skye's pulse raced, his body responding traitorously to the proximity, the way Noah's gaze seemed to strip away layers. He wanted to deny it, to push back with sharp words, but all that emerged was a quiet, "Shut up." Even as he said it, his mind wandered again—to secret fantasies of Noah closing the distance, of rough hands pinning him gently, coaxing out moans he didn't know he could make. The arousal simmered, hidden beneath his composed exterior, a private fire Noah unknowingly stoked with every barbed comment.
Noah's smirk widened, but he didn't press further, just nodded toward the path ahead. "Come on, then. Let's keep walking before you combust from all that pent-up attitude."
Skye followed, the tension coiling tighter with each step, his secret desires whispering promises of what might come if he let the walls crack even a little.