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Over the last several days, Noel— a man constantly fighting to keep ahold of any semblance of certainty, a starved hare hoarding every single scrap of food it could find with teeth turned too-sharp yet still feeling more and more blades of grass slip through his paws with every passing second— had nonetheless become increasingly sure of one fact: he needed to have sex with John
He had, in that same time, though, also become increasingly un-sure about that fact.
It wasn’t as though John and Noel hadn’t had sex yet. They had, undoubtedly, had plenty. Noel could easily remember the taste of John’s fingers pushing into his mouth, or the feeling of John pumping into his cunt while Arthur’s clever mouth wrapped around his cock. There had been sex, good sex, for a long time now.
But things had changed. Namely: there was a new body in the apartment. John's body. And for Noel, that change was… complicated.
He certainly would never deny the attractiveness of John's new body— broad shoulders and thickset limbs, muscled but covered in soft fat; dark curls that were styled every morning with the meticulousness of someone proud to paint the image of their body each day; deep brown skin and plush lips, which often pulled around an adoring smile whenever golden eyes caught the sight of Arthur or Noel.
Clearly attractive. But still complicated.
There were no tendrils lashing behind John or above his head, no gold robes that at once warmed like sunlight and burned like acid, no crown or mask or piece of inhumanity moulded to take on the crude shape of humanity and mock it. Yet, despite the logic of it all, Noel’s mind couldn’t stop the shivers and sickness that crept in at unpredictable moments throughout the day. Not when those honey gold eyes on John’s face caught the lamplight wrong, not when that low voice tipped over the edge of comforting and tumbled into threatening. Not when the stubborn, clinging, angry parts of Noel’s brain refused to let even the safest, luckiest moment of his life exist without spitting the stain of that gold freak on his love.
So moments of intimacy were as fragile as ice on the surface of Lake Crawford at the tail end of winter. It had been weeks now of make-out sessions ended abruptly when the voice in his ear growled too low, or when the nails on his chest dug too deep. Of kisses brushed off when the teeth behind lips appeared too sharp in the shadows, or when the eyes above shone too gold in the sunlight.
And after all that, it was safe to say that Noel was feeling rather pent up about it all.
He could still have sex with Arthur, of course, and that had certainly helped him work through some of the frustration. Not all of it, though. Arthur was unpredictable in bed, an exciting lover who was just as willing to fuck Noel into the mattress as he was to have his own wrists pinned and body manhandled. Still, he wasn't big enough to surround Noel's body. He wasn't gentle or patient enough to take things slow, to make love instead of sex. Most importantly— he wasn't John. As much as Arthur and John wanted to claim themselves as one soul and dream of reabsorbing each other like desperate black widows mating and consuming each other into one inseparable amalgamation of life and death, they were still distinct men, with their own dispositions and appeals. Arthur’s grins were sharper and his hands were more demanding. John's eyes were softer and his hands better at cradling. There were only so many cracks and divots in Noel’s shape that Arthur could fit into. And there were plenty that only a different shape could fill, and had not. Not yet.
But Noel was determined to amend that.
He’d been called stubborn and hard-headed and insolent and a hundred other synonyms for as long as he could remember— with both the affection of his Ma and Pa ruffling his forest floor-dusted hair, and with the snip of other officers counting down the minutes until he left their cases— and never once had he felt the need to change that fact.
Noel wanted John. And nothing— no fear or hesitation or god or illusion of a god— was going to keep Noel from getting what he wanted. What he worked for. Eventually, he would earn his reward.
Perhaps that determination was what had led Noel and John to this moment. What had started as flirting in the kitchen on a hazy afternoon off of work had slowly turned into hands roaming, which had turned into hips grinding and shirts unbuttoning, and then had turned into feet pushing each other toward the bedroom and two bodies falling on the mattress with breathless laughter as lips continued to seek each other out.
Now, Noel lay atop John, one elbow propping him up while the other hand cupped John’s jaw to hold him in a string of long, heated kisses. Underneath, John let Noel take the lead, keeping his own hands around Noel’s hair, neck, and shoulders. He was bolder with his legs though, lifting one knee up just enough to slot a thigh between Noel’s legs. Noel was perfectly fine with that. He slowly ground into John’s thigh, letting out soft sounds into John’s mouth as he felt the wetness beneath his slacks and boxers grow with each kiss and passing minute.
John’s lips were soft, and so was his bare stomach, and his fingers, even as they carded through hair on the back of Noel’s head and gripped a handful.
Heat shot straight to Noel’s groin at the touch. He groaned and rolled his hips harder. It wasn’t enough, he soon found to his surprise. He kept rocking into John seeking the friction and only succeeded in stoking the heat higher.
Maybe he was burning, maybe common sense or fear had been charred to ashes, maybe things were finally falling apart or maybe they were finally going just right, because Noel wanted nothing more than to chase the desire thickening in his veins. He trailed a line of kisses down John's jaw, coveting the oversensitive soft, half-gasping reactions of the man as he did. Noel moved back up and brought their lips together again. It tasted like cherries picked from the backyard, like fresh pie after work, like cigarettes shared in the trench.
As they continued the kiss, John’s hand carefully moved up to drift over Noel’s chest, fingertips ghosting across skin and scars with a careful, fragile reverence. He was always careful like this, keeping his touches to where Noel led him, taking whatever pieces he was given on a particular day and worshipping them as a gift of the highest worth, no matter how limited the scraps he was offered.
Noel wondered if he'd lost sanity. If this was perhaps the first time he'd found it. The first or final time he'd found cherries pie cigarettes gods John John John.
Noel caught John’s wrist and pressed it closer to his chest, trailed it down his body, until the fingers caught on the hem of his slacks.
A soft gasp broke their kiss. John leaned back to look into Noel’s eyes, his own golden irises shining with tentative excitement, pretty as ever. He licked his lips, which only made the warmth in Noel’s stomach flare higher.
“Noel…” he said low, voice a rumble that traveled straight through Noel’s veins.
“I need you, John,” Noel said, slotting their lips together again. “Here, now.”
John shivered, clearly itching to surge forward. Still though, he paused, cautious and careful as always. He glanced at his hand trapped on Noel’s hip, then flicked his eyes back up to Noel. “...Are you sure?”
Noel would have rolled his eyes at John’s constant questions, if it didn’t simultaneously make his heart clench with affection for the (perhaps overdone) amount of care held in this man. As it was, though, Noel only grabbed John’s face and held him still, locking gold eyes onto hazel. “John, sunshine,” he said, “I am telling you: I want to have sex with you right now.”
“Really?” John’s voice was breathless as he looked up with wide, shining eyes.
Noel smiled. “Yes.”
“Oh.” A shiver of excitement passed through John. “Okay. H-how do… what do you-”
“Fuck me.” The answer came automatic, and Noel moved one hand to twist in John’s curls, drawing him back in for another quick heated kiss. “I want you to fuck me, John. I wanna feel you inside.”
John groaned and nodded his head. “Yes, okay, just-” His hands moved to Noel’s torso, and he flipped them over to switch their positions on the mattress.
A bell peeled in Noel’s head. Before his back could even settle into the mattress, he hooked a leg behind John, grabbed his shoulder, and shoved them back to the previous position with him straddled above John. One hand moved to grab both of John’s wrists and pin them above his head. Noel placed the other hand on the center of John’s chest and pressed down, hard but not rough (yet).
“If we’re doing this,” Noel said firmly, “we’re doing it with me on top. Got it?”
John gaped up at him. “I- normally when I'm with Arthur-”
“You're not with Arthur right now.” He pressed down on John’s wrists. “Are you?”
“No.”
“Who are you with, sunshine?”
“You. N-Noel.”
“There ya go.” He slotted a thigh between John’s legs and pressed forward, feeling the growing erection there. John eagerly rolled into the pressure, but Noel only gave him a few seconds of friction before he let go of John’s wrists and moved down to pull off his slacks. The boxers were quick to go, too— Noel wasn’t looking to rush anything here, but he was done dancing around what his body wanted.
John sucked in a breath at Noel’s quick movement. “God, Noel, I- I want you,” he said, open and earnest in a way that twisted Noel’s chest tight with affection.
“And you’ll get me. Promise, baby,” Noel said as he shuffled to chuck off his own remaining clothes.
“When?” He tried to hide the impatient whine, but he couldn’t quite manage.
“Soon as I say so. Open up.” With a smile, Noel pressed two fingers against John’s lips, and John— perfect and willing as always— opened his mouth to take the fingers inside without hesitation. “Good boy,” Noel purred.
A groan rumbled around Noel’s fingers. John swirled his tongue around the digits, pushing between them, licking up their sides, sucking at them with perhaps too much enthusiasm for what really was just a couple non-erogenous digits (not that Noel was complaining).
When he’d gotten them wet enough, Noel tugged his fingers from John’s mouth, affection rushing through him as John leaned forward and chased his retreating hand for a second. Noel gave a quick apologetic kiss before leaning back and bringing his wet fingers down between his legs. He rubbed at his cock for a moment, just a quick touch to make his nerves jump again. Then he moved lower, tracing the lips of his cunt, and, slowly, he dipped his fingers inside, already met with eager wetness. A sigh fell from his mouth at the entrance, and he began to gradually work the fingers into himself, stretching and pumping slightly deeper with each drag. As he worked himself open, he kept his head from tipping back too far, determined to maintain his view and reality of John below, looking utterly lost in want and adoration.
John licked his lips as Noel made another pump inside, which made Noel smirk. “Enjoyin’ the view, sunshine?”
“Immensely.”
“Why don’t you indulge it a bit then.” Noel nodded toward John’s cock, which by now had hardened fully and curled over his stomach.
John quickly wrapped a hand around his cock, exhaling in sharp relief at the pressure. He started to pass his fist over his length, though stopped just as soon, looking up at Noel carefully. “Can I…?”
Noel huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Take what you want.”
“Thank fuck,” John hissed, then inhaled sharply as he finished the slow stroke, immediately started up another one. He set a slow, steady pace, giving himself just enough stimulation to make his breath hitch higher without overtaking the lead Noel had set.
The understanding of control— the willingness of John to fall underneath Noel and let him sit above, let him take the throne and rule this space between their bodies, small as it may be yet the equivalent of the world itself for all it mattered to the two of them— it made Noel's head spin. His blood pounded, caught on the high.
John lay below, pleasuring himself not for his own sake, but for the request Noel had made of him, the desire the need to get as close to Noel as possible and give him everything that he possibly could.
And Noel watched, stuck on the sight like crack in his lungs, imprinting in his mind the vision of John's fingers moving up and down his thick cock, the foreskin pulled back and pushed up once with every pump, precum beginning to coat skin as John bit his lip further up the mattress.
Blood rushed, heat pooled in his stomach and his pumps grew slicker, deeper into his cunt. He felt his breathing grow faster, shaky, as his hand sped up. Faintly, he could hear the wet sounds of his own fingers pumping mix with the wet shifts of John’s fingers over his cock. Noel pressed deeper, quicker, more desperate as the heat in his veins spiked. He curled his fingers up, searching for the spot that made him see stars and—
A sharp gasp fell from his lips as his fingers hit just right, walls fluttering around his own fingers. He let out a soft moan, holding his hand there for a moment and rocking into the pressure. His eyes fell shut and he almost lost himself in the wave of heat.
A long groan underneath broke him from his haze, however. His eyes fluttered open to find John’s, his golden gaze flicking back and forth from Noel’s face to the sight of his fingers buried in his cunt. John had stopped working his length, and instead had wrapped his fist in a tight hold around the base of his cock. He held perfectly still, no longer focused on his own arousal, but instead entirely entranced on Noel and his pleasure. A man before the altar of his god.
“Ff-fuck.” Noel stuttered in his movements. He pulled his fingers out of his cunt swiftly, reaching to pull John’s fingers off of his cock, too. “Now,” he said. “Get in me now.”
“Okay, yes, yes just-” John somehow managed to look both flustered and eager at the same time, hands quickly moving to Noel’s thighs and urging him to shift closer to John’s cock, throbbing with need just as much as Noel could feel his cunt doing the same in turn. “Fuck, Noel-” he whined, feeling the slick drag as Noel eagerly rolled his hips over the head of John's cock.
“Doll,” Noel whispered, breathless. “Hold yourself for me, okay?” It wasn't a question, not in tone, and John followed it like the order that it was.
They each sucked in a sharp breath through their teeth as Noel lowered himself, the head of John's cock dipping into pulsing heat and slick.
“Christ,” Noel hissed, not from pain, far from it. It had been a long time since Noel had felt someone this thick, this warm, press inside him. Each slight shift down sent his breath fluttering and a low tremble in his blood. “Fuck, John. You feel so good, baby, fuck you’re gonna fill me so well.”
John made a choked sound, and Noel felt his cock twitch at his entrance. “I want to,” he said. “I want to make you feel good, make you feel everything I can give you.”
“You will, promise you will.”
John bit his lip, his eyes fluttered. Noel wanted to bite that mouth, kiss those eyelids. For now, though, he focused on sliding down the length of John’s cock slow, careful, indulgent. He rocked down in short movements, enjoying the view of John hissing in sharp breaths and his stomach clenching in desperation to retain self-control (perhaps enjoying it just a bit too much).
The discomfort of the stretch didn’t fade right away, but it was overshadowed by the heat that grew as Noel kept his eyes on John and sunk further and further down his length. By the time he reached the base of John’s cock, hips flush to hips, he felt half-mad with the euphoria at finally, finally taking his sunshine in this way, holding him, enveloping him. It was so- so much. It wasn’t enough. It was just right.
For a moment, Noel shut his eyes, panting softly, taking in the dwindling sensation of a stretch and the growing sense of fullness. He gave a small halfroll of his hips to feel that fullness shift within him.
“Fuck,” John hissed. His breath shook at its edges, just on the fragile side of poise. He trailed his hands down Noel’s thighs. “God, Noel, you're gorgeous.”
Noel opened his eyes and caught John's (fuck, those eyes). “Yeah?” The word was a rasp, weak, starved. He felt as though he'd lost his voice already.
“Yes. You- you look radiant from this angle. Strong, regal. There’s a dark flush on your cheeks, spread down to your chest. The sunlight catches all the sweat and spit and slick on you— you’re glowing. P-part of the earth’s light itself.”
A long groan ripped its way from Noel’s throat. His hips twitched involuntarily.
John’s hands started to slide up Noel’s thighs, creeping closer to his center. Noel stuttered. “Sh-shit— John.”
He rolled his hips again, intentionally this time. The movement made John’s breath hitch, so Noel tried lifting his hips up a bit and coming down. That made John twitch, a half-moaned ‘oh’ caught just behind his lips.
Noel rolled his hips a few more times. He kept them with the small movements, only just slightly lifting himself before going right back down, like his hips were made to lock with John’s and couldn’t leave for too long. It didn’t take long until all the discomfort was gone, and all that was left was the beginning force of a tide that they were desperate to crest.
Underneath, John looked gone, his gold eyes glazed like sunrise through fog in the meadow, hazy and soft, half-awake and half-dream. His chest shook with every breath; his hands almost shook as much. It was the vibration before fission, the tremble before every shred of self had to choose between saving itself or diving straight into madness. The tiny shiver before the atoms of a man broke.
Decade-old aftershocks rocked Noel’s bones, a cold-hot empathy chewing at the marrow.
Noel wasn’t going to have any of that. Nobody else got to have this moment but the two of them.
He drifted his hands up John’s sides. “C’mon, baby,” Noel murmured. “Get here with me.”
“I-” John gasped, “I am here.”
“No,” Noel shook his head. “Here.” He set his hands on John’s chest, nails just digging in, and used the leverage to lift higher and drop back down with a quick, heavy motion. It took an almost-embarrassing amount of willpower not lose himself in the spark that pulsed through him as John’s cock bottomed out again. Still, he managed, determined to tie John here and not let him squirm out from Noel’s control.
“Fuck—” John’s eyes widened. His head tipped back, but another quick and hard movement from Noel had him scrambling to lift it back up and lock his gaze on Noel.
Noel held that gold like the last dying sun keeping him alive. “Here?”
“Good,” Noel nodded, then wasted no time setting a rhythm.
He worked up and down, kept it hard and steady so that neither of them could break the tie between them. Their breaths dissolved to pants together, their hands roamed and laced together, their thighs and arms and minds all trembled together. Noel fucked himself on John, and John twitched himself up into Noel, both writhing and twining like they might become one if they only found the right angle into each other.
(god, how he wanted it)
(god, how he feared it)
But want or fear, it didn’t matter, because neither of those was here, neither of them was the reality of how they fit two bodies together, the reality of the slide and heat and need that rose higher and higher with every movement.
Noel’s hand twitched as John’s cock hit that spot just right, fingers digging into flesh, grasping arm and chest to hold them down and here and his. He whined, pushed back down on John’s cock, chased that feeling again. His blood felt tight and loose at once, and he needed to pin it all down and get higher, needed to flood his body with that sensation of full and perfect and just enough and John John John.
Both of them were moving desperate, panting and chasing each other.
Underneath, every part of John squirmed and jumped and pushed, except for his eyes.
His eyes stood still, stood locked on Noel, stood gold and adoring and sunshine and needy and gold and sunburst and yellow gold yellow. John’s eyes Noel’s vision the whole room drowned in it drowned choked died in yellow.
John groaned and wrapped his hands on Charlie’s waist, hips twitching thrusting up harder. He dug his fingers in deep to get a better hold and-
and…
long, clawed fingers trailing down his skin, peeling strips off. Pale mask and empty eyes perched above in burning golden light. Dark, twisting tendrils wrapped around his hips his limbs, holding him and writhing and spreading him apart pushing into skin pushing into muscle pushing in in in—
“Stop—” Charlie slapped at John’s hands, frantically trying to pry his fingers off. “Stop, stop stop stop.”
“Shit, okay, okay.” John ripped his hands off and held still as Charlie pulled off, frantic, unable to stop his body from pushing off John too (not hard enough to get away quick to save himself to get free).
Charlie scrambled over the mattress until his spine hit the backboard. He pressed himself into it hard, tried to press right through it to somewhere safe and away away away. He drew his knees up and ducked his head into his arms, into dark and quiet. The room was spinning tilting covered in gold, and he couldn't look couldn’t feel couldn’t think couldn't be. His cunt ached at the sudden jump to emptiness, but flashes of memory drowned out the feeling. Through it all, his lungs struggled to pull in a complete breath. His ribs were sharp, and wondered if they’d shattered, if they were in his lungs and his liver, and if it would take only minutes or weeks to put them back this time.
There was a heat, an electricity still in his veins but it was cold, cold like ice cold like the hands of a vast god unwarmed by blood. He wanted to rip it out burn if off but he didn't know how, had never known and would never learn would only be stuck in the pit until the ice blazed clean through him and left just a pile of ash to dissolve in the wind. Dead man, lost man, dead dying imaginary gone gone gone—
“Hey, I’m right here, Noel. You’re right here. This is New York, we’re home. It’s just us, okay?”
The voice was warm. It was… familiar. Safe.
Tentatively, he listened.
“Just us, Noel.” A hand came to rest on his upper arm, soft and steady. “Us at home, safe. We’re home, and we’re real, and we’ve got each other.”
A choked sound pulled from Noel’s throat. He swallowed it down and croaked, “We… we’re h-here.”
“Yes, we are.”
“We’re- we’re real.”
“Yes. Real, and safe.”
“...Okay. O-okay.”
He inhaled. Exhaled. The breath came out more of a half-sob than anything else, but it was at least breathing. He did it again, and again, several more slow, measured breaths until the thickness finally dissolved and his lungs were clear once more. Still shallow and shaky, but clean. Free of shadows and melted gold, free of grave dirt and prison dust.
Noel flexed his fingers, feeling for the shift of the tiniest parts of his body. Muscle and cartilage and bone. All very safe, and whole. All very real.
“I- I’m here,” he said, informing John. “I’m… back, y’know. Here. All good.”
He hoped that they would simply look over the rasp in his voice. Of course, John was never one to ignore anything potentially concerning when it came to Noel or Arthur.
“Noel…”
“No, I- I swear, I-”
“Noel.” John didn’t raise his voice, didn’t fill it with anger or anything sharp. It was heavier, though, full of too many soft emotions for Noel to handle just yet. He shut up and kept his head buried in his arms, instead.
John rubbed his thumb over Noel’s arm. “We can stop if you need, I won’t mind.”
He stiffened. He was cold empty unmoored, and the thought of John leaving, of his warmth and his weight gone— no, absolutely not. Noel couldn’t handle that right now. “No it’s- I can keep goin’.”
“Noel, we don’t have to do anything, you know. Not if you don’t-”
Noel grabbed John’s hand, though his eyes stayed closed. “I want to, I promise. I just… need a sec. Okay?”
“Alright,” he murmured. The soft sweeps of John’s thumb returned, gentle, just enough pressure to be grounding and keep Noel from slipping through and spilling out the seams of his shaking body. “What do we need to do different, then?”
“I don’t… I don’t think I can handle the- the holding. You holdin’ me.”
“Okay,” John said easily. “So I won’t hold you. What- …what should I do instead?”
Noel faltered, his brain running a hundred miles an hour yet tripping over its feet with every step. He felt stupid, childish, asking for something simple and then losing his god damn mind when he got exactly what he asked for.
John’s thumb was still warm and steady. Noel tried to latch onto it for balance as he stepped through the stubborn bomb-riddled field of his mind.
Carefully, he lifted his head, blinking against the light to latch onto his pillar.
John smiled when their gazes met.
It made Noel’s breath catch— this time, thankfully, for a good reason.
There seemed to be no end to the shock of seeing John's face. No end to the warmth that pulsed under his skin like his body had been crafted with sunlight in the veins instead of blood. Even now— curls mussed, skin tacky with half-dry sweat and spit and precum, dark face flushed and lips slightly parted over teeth, showing that small gap at the top that flashed hints of a pink tongue when John smiled or laughed or talked too big, loud and unapologetic nearly every second of the day— John’s presence was steady, calm, and bright. The blanket of orange that sweeps over the horizon at sunrise, the yellow that drifts down over the entire world at the zenith, the gold that gathers every corner of the trees and sidewalks and crowds in its arms at sunset. It was the energy that caused sunflowers to turn their heads, tree buds to open their innermost selves, foxes to crawl their way out from the dark of winter and back into the dawn of Spring's first day.
Noel watched John, watched his smile bring light to the room, watched the way it seemed as though the air itself shivered as ultraviolet radiated from the crown of curls surrounding his face. Noel watched his sunshine and traced his teeth, his lips, his cheeks and eyes, his chin and neck, down all the way to his shoulders. And just over the shoulder of that sunshine, when Noel glanced a touch to the right, was—
…
Huh.
He smiled. “I have an idea. Close your eyes.”
John did— though not without an affectionately suspicious eyebrow raised at Noel first. “You better not make me regret this, Finley,” he said.
Noel grinned as he pulled himself off the mattress to stand, careful to not trip over shaky limbs. “Now when have you ever not been able to trust my judgement, sunshine?”
“Between you and Arthur, I'm not sure I can trust any schemes that take place in this apartment.”
Rolling his eyes, Noel walked over to his dresser, taking his time as he rustled through the drawers. Faint sounds of shifting came from behind his back as John waited, impatient as always. Noel smirked, adding a few extra seconds just to hear the other man squirm for him a little longer.
When he’d finished grabbing what he needed and getting it set up, he closed the drawer (for once thankful for its worn out grooves) loud enough to make John perk up at the sound.
“Alright.” Noel turned around. “Look now.”
John did. His eyes slowly widened as they trailed from Noel’s chest, following down to his hips, to the base of leather, and then, finally, to the tip of the strap-on. “Fuck,” he whispered, face flushed dark and warm.
“That is the plan, sunshine,” Noel smirked as he stepped back to the bed. He pushed lightly at John’s shoulder. “Lay down.”
Without hesitation, John hurried to lay back, barely paying attention to where his body even ended up. Instead, all of his focus centered on Noel. His eyes tracked the sway of the strap-on as Noel climbed back on the bed, crawling over to straddle a thigh on either side of John’s legs.
Noel set the bottle of oil he’d grabbed to the side and trailed his hands up John’s stomach, coming up to cup his chest, thumbs reaching to tweak his nipples. John arched into the touch, a shaky sigh falling from his lips.
“Christ,” Noel smirked. “I barely just brought this out and you already look like you’re gonna fall apart. You really that eager for my cock, baby?”
“I-” John licked his lips. “Yes. God, I want- I need you, Noel.”
A hot shiver passed through Noel. All the ice-heat was gone from earlier. Staring at John— the halo of curls encircling his face and shining just a hint of gold when the light hit them right, the gleam in his eyes that might have been lust or worship or affection or all in the same, the warmth that radiating from him as if he'd been moulded from the elements at the very core of the Sun— the only thing coursing through Noel’s body and brain was love and desire as thick, persistent, and glowing as lava. “Yeah?” he asked. “You want me inside you? Want me to hold ya down and take you right here?”
John shook his head fervently.
“Such a good boy for me,” Noel murmured. He set his hands on either side of John’s head and leaned over him, caging John in as he lowered his head. He bit at John’s earlobe and rolled his hips to drag the shaft over John’s stomach. “You do this with Arthur yet?” he whispered.
“A- a couple times.”
“Did ya like it?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Hope I can live up to the standard, then.” He sat back up and patted John’s hip. “Hands and knees, doll.”
The frantic overeagerness of John’s quick roll onto his stomach and scramble to his knees made Noel smirk. He trailed his hands up John’s sides as the other man worked to settle himself, indulging in the soft skin underneath fingertips and the shivers his touch produced from the man below. He traced back down until he reached John’s ass, cupping each side.
John squirmed as Noel spread him apart.
Noel took his time dragging his thumb over John’s skin, squeezing, taking every chance to make John gasp and twitch, all before he leaned in and licked right across John’s entrance.
“Noel,” John mewled, squirming and desperately trying to press back onto Noel’s tongue.
“Right here, baby,” Noel murmured, pulled back just enough to get the words out before pressing back in to John’s hole. He lapped around the rim, dipping his tongue in occasionally, just enough to tease. With every press of his tongue, John let out tiny, needy noises, fighting to hold still and be good for Noel. With every noise, every small jump of John’s muscles— Noel felt cold gold draining from his veins, felt sun-warmth filtering in. He was inside John, but John was inside him, had been branded to the underside of Noel’s skin long, long before this moment. They were twined, and Noel intended to make sure John never forgot that fact.
Soon he leaned up and was trading his tongue for a finger slicked in oil, then two fingers, twisting and pumping slow, steady, incessant in their careful unraveling of John's composure and their feast on control. John was unabashed in his noises and movements, twitching and whining with every press of Noel's fingers that hit just right.
When Noel started to tease the tip of a third finger, he gave a squeeze to the fat on John's hip. “Tell me how it feels,” he said.
John cursed as the rest of the next finger pushed past his rim and curled up in a thrust with the first two. “Noel, I- fuck, come on—”
“You can do it, doll. I know you can. Be good for me.”
Another whined curse. “Yes, okay, it– it feels good, Noel, so fucking good. Your fingers are rougher than Arthur's, and thicker. You move steadier than him, too, like you have more control over your movements. You're steady and strong holding me.”
“And do you like that?” Noel asked, something fluttering nervous and excited in his chest.
“Yes,” John gasped, rocking his hips back. “Yes, I do. I like feeling you in me, above me, I like feeling you take me. I want to be yours, just yours.”
That something in his chest tightened, compacted and exploded, red orange gold sparks pumping out from his heart like adrenaline, like cherry pies, like the first night in a city apartment that was his his his.
He pulled his hand out, earning a small sound of protest from John, and fumbled for the oil. “Jesus fucking Christ, doll,” he muttered as he poured some oil out and hurried to spread it across his shaft. “You're mine, baby, all mine. You have no fucking idea what you do to me. Not a fucking clue.”
John shifted to turn and look at Noel, licking his lips as he watched Noel frantically stroke his shaft. “I might have some ideas, if the things you do to me are anything similar.”
Noel smirked sharp. “Oh, sunshine,” he said, as he grabbed John by the shoulder and forced him to turn back around, dragging his hand down John's back, letting his nails scrape all the way, “you have no idea what I can do to you. Not yet.”
With one hand, he held John's ass open, and with the other he lined up his shaft with the shiny, gaping entrance there. Breath trembling, Noel started to slowly, carefully press the shaft in. When he got about halfway, he clutched John's hips and twitched his own hips forward with a harsher thrust— partially to feel the shaft's base press against his cock, mostly, though, to force that broken sound from deep at the base of John's throat as the shaft filled him deep.
Christ, Noel wished he could bite that sound, crush it in his teeth and lap out the marrow of need. Gold crackled in the heartbeat pound in his chest, his throat, between his legs. He wished he could consume John whole.
He wanted to hold John down, fist his fingers in those perfect-for-grabbing curls to shove his face down into the mattress, and fuck him until he broke. He wanted to watch this strong body go pliant and giving, wanted to hear that low rumble tremble and cry out underneath him so that he never heard its cool composure above again. He wanted to take take take, and not be taken from.
In the rush of fire and fantasy, Noel did not register how harsh his hands had begun to dig into the hips they held until John whined in discomfort. Guilt and reality crashed down like cold rainwater, and Noel let go, soothing his hands over the stinging skin.
“Hey, baby.” He leaned down to place an apologetic kiss on John’s back.
John, for his part, seemed to understand. He didn’t complain and only glanced over his shoulder at Noel. “Are you still here? Are you alright?”
“I’m here, promise.”
“Okay,” John said quietly, his eyes half-lidded as he stared up at Noel. Then he rocked back hard on the shaft, drawing twin moans from them both as the strap-on stretched further into him and pressed on Noel’s cock.
Now definitely back in the room, Noel took over again and continued to slowly rock the shaft deeper and deeper into John. Each inch forward pulled small twitches and sounds from John, which set Noel’s blood churning hotter by the second. By the time he’d leveled his hips to John’s and bottomed out, both of their breaths had begun to shake, one from the stretch of fullness and one from the heady thrill of control and anticipation.
Noel leaned down until his chest was flush with John's back, turning to nip at his neck. “How do you want it?” he asked.
“H-however you want.” John flexed his fingers into the sheets. “I want whatever you want.”
Fuck, he could get used to this. Noel grinned, teeth against John's skin. “Good answer.”
He leaned back up and started slow, dragging the shaft in and out at a leisurely pace. His hands held steady on John’s hips, dipping ever-so-slightly into the soft flesh there, holding John in place with a light touch for control.
And John— perfect, adoring John— gave right in. Each time Noel pressed in deeper and John flinched away or closer, he immediately let Noel’s grip rearrange him just how he wanted. Each time Noel heard John let out a sharp whine or a long moan, it was open, John letting the sound exist unhidden and proud so that Noel could taste the pleasure John sent into the air. Every shift in their forms immediately brought their matter back together, tight, twined.
Noel dragged the shaft in and out, drawing his hips back enough to leave just the tip in before immediately pushing forward slow but hard, letting John adjust without giving him a chance to breathe in between movements.
Soon, John already dropped to his elbows. With the new angle, the arch in his back was more pronounced, shameless, perfect. Noel wanted to bite the flesh under him. He drew back for another drag, moved forward and angled up, and-
“Fffuck…” John twitched and moaned as Noel pressed against his prostate.
Grinning, Noel stayed there for a drawn-out moment, simply rubbing the end of the shaft against that sensitive spot and soaking up the desperation it drew from the man below him.
“Noel,” John whined, half his body writhing against the sensation while he forced his hips obediently still for Noel. “Please, pl-please…”
“Listen to ya,” Noel murmured, feeling as though he’d downed half a bottle of whiskey. “Stuffed with my cock, whining and moaning like a whore. Not an ounce of shame.”
Another broken whine choked from John as he fought to keep shaking muscles still. “For you,” he panted. “All for you.”
Sunbursts flared behind his chest, in his groin, through every vein and artery and the atoms of oxygen in his lungs. He pulled his hips back and thrusted in, hard. He hissed. “Fuck-”
John twitched and moaned, but obediently pulled his hips back, flush to Noel. He kept himself there as Noel continued thrusting deeper and harder.
The rhythm picked up as both Noel and John started to lose composure, both panting and moaning, Noel fucking hard into John to hit his cock and John’s prostate, John whining and rambling curses and pleads and adoration. Distantly, Noel could hear the worn bedframe creaking, but the sound was only secondary harmony to the chords he and John were making.
“God, please,” John groaned. He brought a hand between his legs, but stopped short of his cock. “Can- can I?”
“Yes,” Noel nodded. “Go on.”
“Thank you,” he gasped, another groan falling from his lips as he wrapped his fingers around his cock.
Noel could feel the muscles of John’s ass flex under his fingers as he tightened around the shaft. Noel’s own cunt was flexing over nothing, wet and hot, feeling as heady as the rest of his body. He kept thrusting forward almost mindlessly, chasing the pound against his cock. Between gasps, he murmured a constant stream of words back to John’s voice. “Good, good, baby, so good. Just like that, keep bein’ good for me.”
He drove into John over and over, until the man was grabbing at the sheets with one hand, his moans and whines rising higher, growing shakier and tighter, like string caught between teeth and pulled to the point of shatter. John writhed. “Getting- getting close.”
His voice was ice before sublimation, flint before strike, and it was Noel with the switch, Noel with the steel. He was trust, and Noel was command, and all of it was addiction.
Noel shut his eyes and dropped his head under the feeling. “Christ,” he panted. “You’re so fuckin’ good, sunshine. Can you hold on for me?”
“I- fuck, yes, just- please.”
Gentleman as he was, Noel couldn't let his sunshine suffer too long— especially not when Noel’s own pleasure was tightening, his cunt pulsing and slick spreading between his thighs. He sped his thrusts up, each one putting more pressure on his cock and placing more desperation into John as the man moved his hand to hold the base of his cock.
“Noel,” John moaned, filling the name with pure pleasure, nothing but adoration.
The sound pulled an equally debauched moan from deep in Noel, from some ache far deeper than he had expected. “Fuck, John,” he panted. “Say- s-say my name like that again. Don’t stop.”
“Noel.” John pushed his hips back harder. “Noel, please—”
“Good, baby. Good, j-just like that.” Noel thrust into John almost frantically, chasing the building tension in his stomach, the needy sounds coming from John. This was fire was cocaine was torrents was him and John and them. It was Lake Crawford shoreline and Arkham offices and New York diners and here and here and here here here. So real it hurt, it bit, it kissed and cradled, and it pushed Noel deeper and higher into pleasure wonder love until it all mounted sharp, hot, and finally, finally— with a burst like a sun flaring that Noel would swear to never forget— tipped him over the edge.
Noel came with a gasp and a groan caught on a one-syllable name. He kept the shaft buried deep in John and ground forward to ride out his orgasm, cock throbbing beneath. Aftershocks coursed through him, static from his core to his fingertips.
When the last wave had pulsed through, he bent and dropped his head to the back beneath him, panting, sweat and a slight trail of spit sticking to the skin.
A shift from the body under him shifted Noel back into alignment with the room.
John squirmed, a high, whining noise rolling from his throat. He still hadn’t released the hand holding the base of his cock.
“God, god Noel,” he begged. “Please, please can I-”
Noel knocked John’s hand out of the way, smiling at the gasp and full-body jerk it elicited. “‘Course, baby, of course. You did so good, such a good boy listening to me. Now come for me.”
“Yes.” John thrust into Noel’s grip. “Yes, thank you, Noel, fuck, thank you.”
He devolved into babbles as Noel set a fast and indulging pace, muttering and groaning a stream of please and thank you and Noel Noel Noel while his cock throbbed, slick spreading over the length with each pull. Noel had no intention of torturing John anymore today– not when he had done so well– and it was only a couple minutes before John stuttered, choked, let out one final gasped “Noel!” and came, cock spurting across the sheets.
Noel stroked him through the orgasm, coaxing a few more drops of come out before John twitched in overstimulation. Gently hushing him, Noel removed his hand and patted John on the hip. “Good, John. Perfect, baby, so perfect.”
A small grunt of affirmation was all John could manage.
Slowly, Noel pulled his hips back, detaching their legs where they had been joined together.
John hissed as the shaft slipped out.
“I know, baby,” Noel shushed. “C’mere.” He laid down, dragging John with him. He turned John on his side and slid up behind him, wrapping an arm over his stomach to hold him steady.
The slick shaft against his back made John shiver, but he pressed closer to Noel. Faint shivers still passed through his limbs, heavy and tired as they were, and Noel held tight, hoping his residual warmth might settle his worn sun.
They let a few minutes pass just like that, bodies close, heartbeats closer, letting the pound inside of them settle to a calmer pace, a soft, steady rhythm. Though the energy from before clung to the edges of consciousness, a short-term muscle memory, the heavy, full, and flat blanket of this current energy settled in just as strong, perhaps even stronger. It felt natural. It felt like the same energy that draped itself over their furniture, embedded itself into the floorboards, fused itself into the sunbeams that stretched across the entire apartment. It felt like home.
Noel savored the taste on his tongue.
“You did so good,” he whispered. He brushed sweat-drenched curls out of the way and kissed the back of John’s neck. “Christ, you were perfect, sunshine.”
A low, soft rumble rolled through John’s chest at the words, a hummed agreement. He lifted a hand behind his head to set over Noel’s hair. “Did you enjoy it? W-was that good for you?”
Another kiss. “It was good, baby. I loved it. And you?”
Another soft, contented sound. “Yeah,” John said. “I really enjoyed it.”
Noel paused. “…‘enjoyed’?”
“Loved.” John turned enough to glance over his shoulder and make eye contact with Noel, golden eyes tired but lit up, punch-drunk and framed by long thick lashes. “I loved it, Noel,” he said, voice full of that endless waterfall of adoration and earnestness that stole Noel’s breath away every god damn time.
Relief forced its way out from Noel in a sigh. He felt his entire body sag, finally safe enough to give in to exhaustion like a pronghorn that stumbles to sleep after running the entire plains just to escape snapping jaws. He pressed his forehead into the back of John’s neck, eyelids closed tight.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds in the room were the soft, still half-shaking pants as they caught their breath, and the slowing pattern of their heartbeats pressed to each other. The world stilled and waited as they rested.
It was soft, and warm. Noel wanted to do nothing but close his eyes, lay back, and let himself sink deep into the waves of sun coaxing him for the rest of the night. But ‘want’ had never quite worked out for him.
Exhaustion might have reached his bloodstream, but, still, some shiver of yellow lingered there, the way it had for half his god damn life, sharp and nagging, a hook that kept him from swimming too far down the stream from fear.
Noel swallowed around the sting of the hook in his mouth.
“I…” (should he say it?)
John shifted, a soft hum. “Hm-mm?”
(how could he not?)
“I’m sorry, John.”
The shift was more awake this time. “Huh?”
“For earlier.” (how could he?) “I- I didn’t mean… Christ, I’m sorry.”
“Noel—"
(how could he ever dare do anything? how could he dare to chain this mess to light itself, to burden sunlight with shadows he couldn’t manage to clear out?)
Hooked metal moved from his mouth to lodge in his throat. He tried to ignore it. “One day I’ll be able to do more.” His fingers shook. “I swear. S-sometime, I can do better for you, I can- I can fix this up and-”
John cut him off with a broad palm placed gently on top of the hand resting on his chest. “You don’t have to do anything to make me love you more, Noel. You don’t have to earn a single part of me.”
“I want to. I want to- to make this good for you, too.”
“It already is.”
The words were pretty, but Noel didn't trust pretty to be true, no matter how much he ached for it. Pretty was poison, was teeth and jaws, was knives buried between ribs. He wanted, craved for it to just be pretty, to just be good. He craved trust.
“Hey,” John murmured, interrupting his thoughts.
“Sorry,” Noel muttered, “I- I was just-”
“Do you trust me?”
Breath caught. “...What?”
“Do you trust me?” John asked, straightforward, pierced straight through their two chests.
It was possibly the only fact that Noel could say, without a doubt, was true: “Yes.”
“Then listen to me.” John squeezed their hands and spoke.
“Maybe someday you will be alright to do something different, and maybe you won’t. And that’s okay. It won’t matter to me either way. All I want is to be able to love you and be loved by you— the details about how we get to do that don’t matter to me. Just so long as it’s us.”
The corners of Noel’s eyes began to sting, and he pressed his face closer to the back of John’s neck. “You’re too fucking good for me, y’know that, sunshine?” he murmured into the soft skin there.
“I think we could throw that sentiment back and forth at each other all day and never agree about who meant it more.”
“No,” he smirked tiredly. “S’pose not.”
John raised their joined hands to his mouth and placed a slow, soft kiss to Noel's palm. “I love you, Noel. That's all that will ever matter.”
His breath was warm against Noel's skin, low and hot in a way so unlike the blazing fires Noel was used to, in a way more like sunlight draping over the bedsheets in the early morning, an embrace of breaking dawn wrapped in soft edges as it eased a tired body into a new day.
Dawn, and daylight.
Earth, home.
John.
Noel placed a final kiss to John’s skin.
“I love you, John,” he whispered back.
John leaned back into him. “I know,” he murmured. “I know. Now rest.”
And, well, Noel couldn't bring himself to deny his sunshine. He closed eyes, nestled himself close to John, and held the two of them tight together as exhaustion, trust, and love settled them into sleep.