My hand had been resting on Noah's arm ever since he sat down beside me. His head was tilted slightly against my breasts, just enough that I was sure he could hear my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs.
The movie blurred into meaningless noise—flickers of light and muffled screams that barely registered. Thirty minutes in, I wasn't watching anymore. I was memorizing the weight of him against me, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the warmth radiating through the blanket we shared.
'I want to touch you more...' The thought pulsed through my head like a secret I wasn't supposed to have. He could never know what I truly thought of him. If he did, Elara would kill me without hesitation—and honestly, I wasn't sure she'd stop there.
I slid my hand from his arm to the warm, firm space just under his armpit, my fingers pressing into the muscle right below his pec. The heat of his skin radiated through my palm, and I had the sudden, wild urge to drag my thumb across his nipple, to feel it harden under my touch. But I held back—barely. That felt like a line I wasn't quite ready to cross with him awake.
Noah didn't even flinch. His eyes were glued to the screen, wide and unblinking, like he was genuinely under some kind of spell. It was almost comical how engrossed he was.
"Holy shit! Did you see that? That girl's head just got sliced clean off!" he shouted, jerking up from where he'd been leaning against me. My hand stayed where it was, fingers still digging lightly into his flesh, reluctant to let go of the contact.
He settled back down a moment later, this time sinking lower, his head resting fully against my left breast. The weight of him felt heavy, intimate, his cheek pressed into the soft curve as if I were his personal pillow.
A surge of possessiveness washed over me—God, this felt so right. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, claim him as mine, shield him from everything. My protector instincts kicked in hard, and I couldn't help but let my fingers tighten just a fraction more against his side, savoring the way he melted into me without a second thought.
"Man, I'm so pumped watching this, but I'm dying for a nap," he mumbled, letting out a long yawn, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
I shifted both of my legs onto the couch, stretching out sideways to get comfy. The cushions sank slightly under my weight, and I propped a pillow under my head. He sat there for a moment, looking puzzled, his brows knitting together as he tried to figure out my move.
Then, realization hit, and a shy smile crept across his face. He scooted closer and carefully laid himself on top of me. His small frame felt so light against mine, almost delicate, like I could wrap him up entirely. He was adorable in a way that made my chest tighten—I wanted to pull him closer, to devour him, to feel every inch of him pressed against me.
His head rested right against my chest, nestled into the soft curve of my boobs. My breath hitched a little, wondering if he noticed, if he wanted to see more. I couldn't help but think back to a video I'd watched recently, some random study claiming guys were getting more obsessed with boobs these days, like it was becoming some kind of cultural fixation.
I glanced down at him, his messy hair tickling my skin, and bit my lip. "Comfy down there?" I teased softly, my voice a low murmur, hoping he'd pick up on the playful hint in my tone.
He let out a faint, humming "yes," and my mind raced with the realization of how dangerously close his lips were to my nipples. The flimsy fabric of my tank top was the only barrier between us, clinging to my skin with no bra underneath. I could feel the heat of his breath, warm and teasing, against my chest, sending a shiver down my spine.
"I won't tell Elara about this, don't worry. I trust you won't try anything..." he muttered, his voice low and sleepy, punctuated by a soft yawn. The movie flickered on the screen, some random dialogue and background noise filling the room, but it might as well have been static. Neither of us cared about it anymore; the tension between us was thicker than the plot on screen.
Noah drifted off almost instantly, his breathing slowing into a steady rhythm. I nudged his shoulder gently, my fingers brushing against his warm skin, but he didn't even flinch. He was out cold, his head resting snugly between my breasts, the weight of him so comforting yet maddening.
I could feel the rise and fall of his chest against me, the subtle graze of his cheek against the thin fabric of my top, and it made my heart pound. Up close, he looked so peaceful, almost innocent, with his dark lashes fanned out and his lips slightly parted. Damn, he was cute like this—too cute. My fingers itched to stroke his hair, to pull him even closer, but I held back. Still, I couldn't help but imagine having this every single night, his warmth pressed against me, the quiet intimacy of it all driving me wild.
I let my hand glide across his chest, my fingers brushing under his shirt and tank top until they found his nipple. I flicked it lightly, and a small, sharp gasp slipped from his lips. My pulse quickened. I couldn't stop myself—I needed to touch him more. It wasn't like I was hurting him, was I? He's my friend, my lover, and I love him so damn much.
I tugged at his nipple again, a little firmer this time, and a soft whine escaped his sleeping form. The sound sent a jolt through me. He was so responsive, even in his sleep. I couldn't help but wonder how he'd be awake, in the heat of something more, his body reacting with every touch.
My hands moved lower, gripping his stomach with a mix of force and restraint. I didn't want to wake him, but I couldn't resist feeling the softness of his skin under my palms. He felt so fragile, almost like I could leave marks just from the pressure of my fingers. I traced the curve of his waist, careful but hungry, my breath hitching as I watched his chest rise and fall, completely unaware of how much I craved him in that moment.
Then a sudden buzz startled me, sharp against the hum of the TV. My heart jumped, and I instinctively pulled my hands away. I gave Noah a soft nudge until his eyes fluttered open.
"Huh—oh..." he mumbled, sitting up slightly, his hair a tousled mess that made him look even more innocent than usual.
"Hello?" he said into his phone, voice still groggy. I already knew who it was — Elara. His tone softened immediately, that little warmth in his voice he only used with her.
"Oh, yeah, I'm at Bella's house. We're just watching a movie," he said, confirming my guess. I tried not to let the sting of jealousy show, keeping my face blank even as my chest tightened.
"Okay... I'm not going anywhere," he murmured before turning to glance at me. His shirt was a little out of place from my hands playing with him, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Love you too. Bye..." he finished, setting his phone aside with a yawn. "Why did Ms. Rose have to give me so much work? It's like she wants to torture me."
He looked exhausted this morning — the kind of tired that clings to your bones. Watching him like that made my heart ache. Noah didn't deserve to be weighed down by anything, not by school, not by life.
"It's okay," I said softly, pulling the blanket up over him. "You can keep napping, Noah. I'll be here... I'll protect you."
Noah's mumbled words, "Thanks Bella... love you," barely reached my ears before he collapsed, his face pressing right into my chest. His breathing deepened almost instantly, a soft snore escaping as he settled against me. I glanced down at him, a mix of affection and frustration stirring in me. He cut off my chance to tease his nipples more like I wanted. But I wasn't about to let that stop me from touching him.
My hands slid down to his back, fingers tracing the smooth plane of his skin. God, he was so pretty, every inch of him damn near perfect. I let my palms press harder, kneading into the muscles there, feeling the warmth of him under my touch. A dark part of me ached to lean down, to sink my teeth into the curve of his shoulder, to taste the salt of his skin and mark him as mine. I bit my lip, holding back, but the thought alone had my heart racing.
I'd fantasized about Noah so many times—picturing my hands on him, his breathless gasps as I'd take him apart, the way his body would tremble under mine. Every late night, every stolen glance, fed into those raw, desperate daydreams.
But as I stared at his peaceful, sleeping face, a pang of sadness hit. I wanted him, more than anything, but deep down, I doubted it'd ever happen. "You're killing me, Noah," I whispered under my breath, my fingers still lingering on his back, unable to pull away.
"I love you so fucking much, Noah... love me back, please."
I hummed softly, tracing slow circles along Noah's back as he slept against me. The tune echoed faintly in the dim room — something gentle, something to keep my heart from breaking.
The clock read just past eight-thirty; Elara would be here any minute. The November air leaked through the thin windowpanes, cold enough to make me shiver, but I didn't move. He felt warm in my arms.
Mom wouldn't be home until midnight, probably nursing her fifth drink at the bar by now. The silence felt heavier without her drunken rambling in the background.
A sharp knock broke through the quiet. My chest tightened. Carefully, I slipped my arms under Noah and lifted him, his weight familiar — I'd done this once before when he'd fallen asleep on the bus. He looked peaceful, his cheek resting against my shoulder.
I padded toward the door and eased it open. Elara stood there, dark circles under her eyes, her work uniform slightly wrinkled. Even tired, she radiated that same dangerous calm that made everyone else tense up.
"Hey, Bella," she said with a faint smile. "Thanks for looking out for my brother. Wanna come over for dinner tomorrow? We're having Chinese."
My heart jumped at the offer. Anything that got me near Noah — I'd take it. I nodded quickly, too eagerly maybe, but I didn't care.
"Alright," she said, stepping closer. "I'll be taking my leave then."
I hesitated before handing him over, his warmth slipping from my arms into hers. She carried him bridal style, the exact same way I had, and I watched them disappear into the night — their silhouettes fading into the soft glow of the streetlights.
When the car engine started and the taillights vanished down the road, I stood in the doorway, hugging myself against the cold. The hum of the city was distant, faint, and I realized I was alone again — just me, my empty house, and the ghost of his warmth still lingering in my arms.
"I'm gonna have to do something eventually..."