Me And The Grown Man Who Whimpers When I Call Him A Good Boy

MEN IN UNIFORM

warnings: groping, oral (sevika recieving), bottom sevika, one slap on the ass, cum sharing?, im not proof reading anything ever

"hey, you," you mutter against sevikas neck, sliding up behind her where she finishes putting some dishes away.

"me doing your dishes wasnt enough for you?" she asks, though you can hear the small smile in her voice as she leaned back into your hold around her, enjoying the small kisses to her neck.

"i cant simply want to thank my woman?" you cant help yourself as your hands find and gently knead her tits through her wife-pleaser.

"mmh... you usually want something from me, baby."

"its hard not to."

with a final squeeze you let go, running your hands down the expanse of her strong stomach, humming with appreciation before they find her hips to pull them back against you, your own grinding against her ass.

sevikas hand reached back to cradle your neck, brushing her warm fingers against your hairline.

"you gonna let me kiss you? or are you still on a strike?" you ask her as you inch in, the warmth of her breath mingling in with yours. of course she scoffs a little.

"maybe brush your teeth sometimes," she mutters half-heartedly against your lips before pressing a lingering kiss onto them.

you stood on your toes to reach her with your tender kisses, softly licking into her mouth and swallowing up her sighs as your hands wandered over her impressive physique. unashamedly you reached down to grab her ass, her mouth opening against yours with a ragged breath as you squeezed.

"you're so beautiful," you cant help but whisper into her mouth while you reach around her to work off her belt.

"come on..." she complains quietly, though she helps detach the straps around her waist, turning her face away from you to watch your nimble hands work her pants off.

"i mean it, sevika."

you kiss down the nape of her neck, touching your lips to where her bone had began to protrude after countless nights of hanging over her work, while your hand squirmed its way into her pants to cup her pussy through damp fabric.

"handsome, then..." you re-work your wording, fondling her. sevika was so easy to rile up, be it anger or arousal, it took next to nothing to get her going and satisfied.

nudging her forward she bent over, her forearm resting on the counter, her head onto her arm again. your hand stayed nestled in her pants, wetting themselves on her, as your hips ground forward, pushing small sounds out of the woman.

her back was something to be deeply admired as her muscles worked to keep her upright and grinding back against your movements. your free hand tracing over her back, you couldnt help but groan, landing a small slap to her ass while removing your hand from between her legs.

sevika glanced over her shoulder at you, a small harmless glare situated on her face. she shook her head and looked back down onto her arm on the counter as you pulled her pants down over her hips, laughing at her reaction.

"you slap my ass all the time, dont be a kill-joy."

she only grumbles at you while you continue your fondling of her, pushing your fingers and palm into her soft flesh as you practically make out with her shoulder, licking and sucking onto her dark skin.

the wet kisses moved back to her neck as your hands moved back to her tits, pushing her shirt up to get a proper feel of her. sevika pushed herself up slightly with her hand placed firmly on the counter, moaning so softly she might just not have been at all.

"fuck, youre hot," you groan into her skin, not able to help yourself. "just want to devour you."

her head bobbed at the suggestion, you just barely glimpting her lip catching between her teeth at your handling of her, you didnt treat her like this often enough.

it didnt take long for you to crouch down behind her to sink your teeth into the thickness of her ass, delighting in her low whine at the action, at her hips pushing back against you to urge you on.

it took even less for you to bury your face into her cunt, lapping up her tangy taste. god was it good, you moaned into her wetness while she widened her stance to get you deeper, moans tumbling out through her dark lips.

licking into her, your tongue pressed flat from her thrumming clit to her weeping hole, you hummed, pressing your hands into her cheeks to pull them further apart.

you moaned into her at her taste, sevikas own sounds almost drowning out around you, her whimpers as she gripped onto what she could while you licked at her pussy just about dissipating in your desire.

"make me cum, doll, make me cum," she groaned above you, more to herself than you if you were both being honest, her hips grinding greedily into your face to earn her more pleasure.

"oh fuck-" she whimpered, biting into her arm. your own arms wrapped around thick thighs as you ate out her poor cunt as if you depended on it. you moaned too, couldnt help yourself with the heat gathering between your legs, making you shift where you kneeled behind her.

you pressed your tongue into her, fucking her with it, one of your hands moving up to thumb at her hardened clit, rubbing slow torturous circles into it. all sevika could do was twitch against your hold, to push into you, to fuck herself on your tongue. her back arched with each whine that left her, hungrily humping your face.

you couldnt help humming into her pussy, moving back down to lick at her clit, sucking it into your mouth as she tried to starve off her moans by hiding against her arm. your nose pressed so closely against her you couldnt breathe without sevika filling you.

her humping became short and unmeasured, her hand pushing against the wall to help her grind back onto you. a sweet desperate whine left her as every part of her tightened, her pussy clenching on your tongue, pussy gushing onto your face. you licked her through it, as her hips twitched and her breath came out in small gasps following whiny groans and pleas for more and yes and god right there please.

you wouldve talked, ran your mouth and told her every filthy thing on your mind, that she was a slut, greedy, helpess with your mouth on her, that no one would treat her or eat her out the way you would, but youd rather die than pull away from her perfect cunt.

some things could only be imagined, as her mouth surely hung open, her brows furrowed, and her eyes slipped closed in her headless pleasure. fuck she wanted you inside her, wanted you to stuff her full until she cried, but she knew you, and knew within the hour she would be weeping on whatever you decided would fit her that night.

even once she was done you took to peppering kisses over her, from her clit to her hole to her bush and thinghs and ass. all of it. it was obscene the way you couldnt keep your tongue and mouth off her while she caught her breath.

"so fucking good," you murmured into the fat of her ass, licking a bite you had just left on her still twitching muscle.

"so perfect, so good... fuck youre good," you kept going, unable to stop yourself from just repeating it. because truly she was so perfect and oh so good, especially against your tongue, and especially with her wanton thrusts against it.

you stood up to bend over her back, grabbing her jaw to force her lips onto your cum covered ones. it was sevikas favourite part, it had to be, when you smeared her cum onto her lips, making her taste herself on your wild tongue.

sevikas brows furrowed while you licked into her again and again, her own tongue helping to suck onto yours, easily removing her taste from you to greedily have it for herself.

"take me to bed..." she murmured against your wet lips.

childhood girlfriend trope but with simon-ghost-riley. In his eyes you're everything to him and everything for him. you both grew apart years ago when he left for the military, yet you still remember the heartbreak that you had when he showed you a college selection letter? no it certainly wasn't and you were definitely clear that it wasn't a college selection letter after seeing the infamous SAS insignia with the motto 'who dares wins'. you wanted to slap simon square in the face, he was only 19 and so were you; promises you made about moving in together, building a small little family together which were either forgotten by him or abandoned by him. sure you sobbed for a few weeks after he left and maybe hated him for the a few months but after a while you grew tired of it, because if he did care for you and your love he would have atleast sent letters asking about your well being, so you set out to find love within someone else's embrace. and after 15 years, when your husband decides to invite his team over for dinner,now imagine the sheer shock on simon's face when his captain introduces you as his wife.

beautiful work, as always! Now what if I nonchalantly slip my hand down their pants? Like a stress toy....or ball, I guess....stress balls?

Gaz: the flincher. He’ll always be a little tense if you slip your hands in there without warning and grab his balls. He’s one of those people where if the cops drive by he’s like “this is it they’re gonna take me away” even though he literally hasn’t done anything so when you grab his balls he’s like “this is it I must’ve done something and now my nuts are gonna get gorilla gripped”. And what’s crazy is that he accepts that fate straight away.

Soap: he’s getting hard about it the minute the tip of your pinky breaches waistband.

Ghost: the number 1 fan of “just playin’ with ‘em”. Loves to mindlessly paw at you just to relax. So he’ll be 100% into you treating him like a stress toy.

Price: laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, sweetheart, they’re still there.” Also in the very back of his mind he is wondering if there’s a chance testicular massage can contribute to rate of conception but he’ll never say that.

Price is literally so gross. silver fox seeking a pretty young thing after a divorce to the MAX. his ex wife comes over to drop off their son but you open the door instead, cotton-plated in one of his shirts and hair damp from your recent shower. Price takes over and you can hear his wife’s voice from the foyer—“how old is she? she barely looks an undergraduate, John” and he acts sheepish but Lord knows he doesn’t care. Ou.

literally no words can describe how much i love historical war films.

dunkirk, all quiet on the western front, 1917, hacksaw ridge, band of brothers, saving private ryan, schindler's list, and oppenheimer are all done very well.

history is one of my special interests :)

Upcoming au wip✍️

Kinktober Day 22

Moniker: Keegan Risk Level: Low. Keegan has never been detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Femdom, pegging Safeword: Refer to first brief.

Ghost and Keegan requested this for you. You’re in full control this time around - Price

“Do not let him top from the bottom” Farah ordered as she tightened the harness around your hips.

The bite of it combined with the weight of the cock fitted to it was making you feel a heady rush of something. Arrogance maybe, because you found you wanted to top. You felt like you could put Keegan right in his place with this on you.

“Don’t assume this” Ghost said, grabbing the cock and tugging which had your hips following, “will get him to play nice. You need to be mean with Keegan if you want to break him into a slut. It’s a fight with him, you ease up and you’ll be on your back.”

“Ridden hard and put away wet darlin’” Alex added with a chuckle.

Some of the arrogance faded away given it felt sort of silly to be getting a pep talk off of three people to fuck one right in the hallway outside of the play room. You felt your hands moving to cover the frankly too big cock jutting from your pelvis and dug your nails into your palms to stop them when Nova walked past and smirked. It was pretty big and it honestly seemed a bit misshapen, a weird bump on it.

Did they have to do this in the damn hallway? You’d went from feeling like some masculine God ready to rock the world of anyone with a willing hole to feeling like you were about to get eaten alive for trying assert any sort of dominance what so ever.

“He is only teasing habibi, you will do wonderfully” Farah said, noticing how your puffed out chest had collapsed inward with your confidence.

“Hey” Ghost said, his thumb and fingers gripping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “You go in there all timid and don’t give him a fight and I’m going to come in and leather that cunt of yours with a paddle, you understand me princess?”

Somehow you suspected that Ghost would not make it an erotic experience. Weirdly it did give you a boost to hear him growl at you like that because you wondered if he had ever held Keegan down and had his way. Given how firm he was in his insistence you do the same you suspected yes. Was this something Keegan wanted or something he needed to keep him in line?

You were here to give them what they needed after all.

“I understand sir.”

You walked in and the door snicked closed behind you. It was all very sensual, low light and a plush bed covered in velvety red blankets.

“Aww you’ve lost me money kitten, I bet you’d puss out” Keegan said, your head whipping around to find him lounged in an armchair in the corner.

Jesus, he was dressed up for you and it wasn’t stopping him from reclining back, one leg thrown over the arm rest to fully display himself. You’d never seen a man in a corset, but he was bound tightly in a gorgeous scarlet one. It didn’t quite cover his pecs, his nipples peeking over the top. The one other thing he wore were pretty thigh high sheer stockings.

It was such a strange sensation it caused in you, your brain trying to use those little shortcuts about gender without your permission and misfiring. He wasn’t any less masculine and something about those things on him had your pussy wet and excited.

There was a matte black sort of puck between his legs… a plug. He was fucking plugged. How could anyone be tarted up, have a plug in their ass to prep them for getting railed and yet still look like the smuggest person on the planet?

You lifted your t-shirt to show the still red healing slashes on your ribs and raised an eyebrow. Puss out? Of fucking him? You’d taken a glorified fucking torture session and only stopped at getting permanently branded, you were hardly about to refuse pounding some bloody respect into him.

“Careful, you show off marks that I didn’t put there and I might get jealous” he said.

There was a genuine growl of jealousy underneath the words that was both surprising and delighting. It felt good to inspire that ugly feeling in someone. But it was also the threat of him taking control which bristled.

“On the bed Keegan. I’m not the one getting marked up today” you said, dropping your shirt to cover the marks again.

“What was it you said? Make me.”

This fucking asshole. Here you were nervous and unsure and all he could do was rile you up. You’d make him alright. You marched forward and hiked up your right foot to rest it firmly on his cock. His nostrils flared and his eyes widened in some sort of dark delight.

“I said on the fucking bed” you said, pressing your foot right into his balls for emphasis.

He sucked a breath through his teeth in pain but laughed.

“How do you want me kitten? On my back with my legs spread?”

You cocked your head at him.

“Hm. Feet on the floor, bent over the bed. It’d be a shame to not get a nice view of the lacing on that pretty corset.”

You removed your foot and stood tall as he got up. Oh you liked the way the corset kept his posture straight, how he had to float up out of the chair like some trained lady. You liked how there was the whisper of the silky material of the stockings rubbing against one another as he walked and his thick thighs rubbed. You liked when he bent over the bed and his cock jumped from the movement of the plug inside him, unable to keep up the same unbothered mask the rest of him could.

“Oh baby, you’re all wound up aren’t you?” you cooed, “who put that plug in hm? Did they tease you terribly?”

“Or maybe I put it there myself. Wanted to make sure you could even find the hole for your bit of plastic kitten, I know you’re not very practiced.”

You snorted a laugh and his eyes were full of mirth looking coyly over his shoulder at you stood behind him. It was sort of fun being on this end of things, having the end goal be that you’d dominate him rather than like before when he was spanking you. Then it was always an eventuality that you’d float off into submission. You were starting to fizz with excitement about what it would be like to be the one putting someone else there.

“Well then, better get a lot of practice in. I’m sure your ass can handle it baby” you teased, pressing that plug a little and delighting in how it made his body ripple with tension. “Bet you’ll be silky and tight on my cock.”

“Bet you’ll barely last” he snapped back.

Oh, is that how you sounded when you clearly wanted to goad someone into fucking you? It was so… cute. So evidently snark coming from neediness. Whoever had worked him over for you had done a very good job of having him on edge and desperate that it wasn’t going to be impossible to get him to break on your cock and beg.

“That would be your fault, how could anyone last when you look so gorgeous laced up and cock hungry.”

And he did look gorgeous. The lacing up his back with exquisite, someone had taken time to do this properly. You ran your fingers down the boning on the side, smiling when he wriggled his ass because you were sure he hadn’t realised he was doing it.

Outwith this play room where you knew so definitively that you were safe you’d have worried about doing this, worried that there were safely concerns about pounding into his stomach when he was corseted. But you knew you didn’t need to worry about it because even if it was only the two of you in this room, there were eyes watching and keeping you both safe.

He groaned low when you played with the plug, pumped it to it’s widest point and back in to his ass a few times before pulling it out and admiring the little flood of lube that came with it. His hole flexed, not quite closing.

You knew his prostate would be sensitive and you tried to remember how Farah had been with you when she had explored with her fingers to find where you were most responsive.

The plug was tossed on the bed next to his head and it landed with a muffled thump. No need to start with just one finger when he had been well stretched, two sank in with no resistance, only the silky heat of his walls sucking your digits.

“Fuck Keegan, so wet and needy.”

“Fuck kitten, so slow and scared” he snarked back.

“Don’t be such a brat” you said, lightly smacking his ass and feeling your cunt throb with the sharp sound of it. “I’ll give you hard and fast when I’m good and ready.”

“Fuck!”

Ah ha. Found it. You pressed your fingers hard into the flimsy barrier to his prostate and his legs shook. Now you knew why Farah had been so determined to know exactly what angle to use, because having his body react like that was heady.

“Shh there we go, good boy” you said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his back just above the corset.

The boning and lacing was keeping his spine straight, keeping him from arching the way you knew he wanted to. Part of you wondered how it must feel. Maybe you’d let him lace you up one day. If he was good of course.

“Come on! Just fuck me already” he barked, still not giving in but definitely nearing the edge.

Honestly you sort of knew he was helping you here. From immediately getting you riled up when you walked in to get you out of your head to giving you cues like this to subdue him, Keegan was guiding you beautifully on how to dominate him. You obviously wouldn’t ever acknowledge it out loud, but you appreciated it.

“Settle down baby, I want you to savour it. Want you to relax.”

You punctuated your statement with what you were hoping was a nice prostate massage. By the way he ground his head into the bed to hide his whining you thought you were probably doing a good job. He was so fucking messy inside, your fingers slick from the sheer amount of lube that had been trapped by the plug.

Or maybe a little sticky actually, maybe a little less like lube and more like something else.

“Did someone use you and leave you wanting baby?”

You were almost jealous which was odd, but when you thought about it the feeling was coming from this new persona, this dominant side of you. The heavy weight between your legs felt very real right now and your hind brain was furious that someone else would put their cock where yours belonged. You wanted to fuck him better, rail him until he was fucking moulded to your shape.

He stayed quiet, as if nervous. The power of that went straight to your dick. He was nervous to tell you anything that might displease you because he was giving in, submitting to you. The crack of your hand on his ass was harder this time.

“Asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what Keegan?”

“Yes someone used me and left me wanting.”

You smacked him hard on the same spot, nearly losing your fucking mind at how your handprint was blooming red on his ass.

“Sir!”

“Was that so hard baby? God, I really have to teach you everything don’t I?”

“Sorry sir.”

You rubbed the mark lovingly as a reward for how sweet he went. Perfect. Nice and melted under your dominance. Nice and ready to take your fat cock so you could fuck that cum out of him, have it squelching out around you. You could take a guess at who exactly had tormented him, but you were happy to leave it a mystery. Maybe it was more than one person, maybe Keegan enjoyed a train. What a slut.

You fed him your fingers and he sucked the lube and cum off of them like he was starving for it. Slut.

“Let me in” you grunted, holding your cock and guiding it to his hole.

You laughed at him when he choked a little from the stretch. This wasn’t that nice beginner dick Farah had fed your pussy with, this was fucking big. When you pushed your way in there were two thoughts. One, you appreciated those with cocks more now because you could already tell this was going to be a workout. And two, the little bump deformity on the cock settled right against his prostate when you sank as deep as possible.

Jesus fucking Christ. This cock was designed exactly for him. You were literally perfect for him, filling him just right.

“You absolute whore baby, who did you beg to make this for you hm? Who did you get on your knees for to make it happen? Fuck look at you just swallowing it, holy shit” you hissed, really feeling the squeeze of his ass around that silicone as if it was your dick.

“Sir, please!” he finally begged, trying to push himself back even though you were already as deep as you could be.

You lost it and hammered into him. Your cunt throbbed in time with your thrusts and your hips fucking hurt with how aggressively you were fucking him, but my God the little submissive moans and whines could sustain you forever.

Logically you knew you couldn’t cum in his ass, but you were determined to fucking try. When you slipped out you just growled and grabbed you slippery cock to shove it right back in. It was such a compliment how he took it, such a kindness for him to let you dominate and take it so nicely. You had thought how well you were treated with the financial compensation and the aftercare was too much for what you were doing, but not anymore. You could see now that to submit to someone was such a fucking gift.

He came untouched, the abuse his prostate was taking having him spurt all over the bed. You kept fucking him through it, the poor corset getting smeared with his own cum as he was jostled back and forward. When his legs just collapsed you swore as you struggled to keep him up by his hips.

Your cock bounced out of his ass with a wet pop as you tried to take his weight so he went gently to his knees rather than crashing down onto them. You caught your breath once he was settled, his shoulders and head still on the bed and his legs splayed on the ground.

His ass was wrecked and it was gorgeous like that, all red and puffy and twitching while the remainder of the cum and lube dribbled out. And he was so vulnerable like this. Totally at your mercy as he panted and tried to calm down. It made you freeze just a little. You’d never done aftercare for someone else. You wanted to, but with him so debauched you were a little scared to fuck it up.

You didn’t want him to hear you say it and think he had done anything wrong so you gave the camera a look and the hand signal for red, hoping you were conveying that you didn’t want to leave but you did want help.

It was a little surprising that it was Soap who quietly opened the door and came in, but then he had handled aftercare with you so beautifully your first day with him and they wouldn't have sent him if he was in what you were going to politely call one of his moods. He helped you with Keegan, gave you whispered guidance. When Keegan was a little more together and you were feeding him in the bath he told you that the aftercare needed to go both ways, asked if looking after him was making you feel good as well.

Huh, you guess you hadn’t even thought about it, but it had. The act of unlacing that corset had calmed you down, got you out of the dominant headspace you had started to get lost in. It helped that getting him out of it and the stockings caused your pussy to practically purr.

Soap nuzzled you and started to strip you down, mumbling how you needed to be taken care of too. He gave you a lazy orgasm on his tongue and fingers right by Keegan’s bath and popped you in right next to him after. Well almost right after, Keegan definitely had to give him a long look.

Your heart flip flopped over it all. Just over a week to go.

John Price with a health obsessed wife. She always wants to make sure his health is at its best.

So it’s how John finds himself getting lectured at 6am because he’s drinking coffee. He couldn’t sleep, the poor fella, but you insist that a glass of water wakes you up more than caffeine.

“Water’s way healthier, caffeine can give you an irregular heartbeat.”

“Mhm, I’ll keep that in mind darling,” he mumbles from behind, his fingertips tracing over the waistband of your pyjamas. He plants a kiss on the back of your shoulder and gently nips it. “But I wouldn’t want to waste my coffee.” He picks it up again and quickly finishes it before you can protest. However, it doesn’t stop the cute, annoyed expression on your face.

“You take such good care of me, love.”

“Well you never listen to me anyway so I don’t know why I bother,” you replied saltily, brushing past him after leaving a glass of water on the side in front of him.

He grumbles as he picks up the glass and drinks it. Never would he want to ignore his wife so he obediently does what he’s told before reaching to grab you back and chuck you over his shoulder. “Back to bed, angel.”

Anyone want some angst? Cause I found some random angst laying around. With the bonus of Martin and Gabe interacting for the first time.

It’s 7am when Gabriel gets the call. The one he’s spent the last ten years dreading, knowing full well that sooner or later it would inevitably come.

-

Gabriel walks through the halls of the large hospital in a daze. Trying his best to follow the directions given by the nurse down at the front desk.

He pauses outside of what is supposed to be Noah’s room, staring at the door. His hand shakes when it comes up to twist the handle.

The figure in the bed at the far end of the room wouldn’t be recognizable if not for the fact that Gabriel could pick Noah out of a crowd with his eyes closed.

His face is so swollen and bruised Gabriel doesn’t think he could open his eyes even if he’d been awake to try.

His lip is split in several places, blood hastily wiped away.

His knuckles must be busted too, if the bandages covering his hands are any indication.

Gabriel sinks down into one of the free chairs in the room. There are two beds in here, separated by a thin curtain. The other bed is empty. Maybe just because it happens to not be needed right now, or maybe intentionally left as such, considering Noah’s case is likely a police matter.

Just a few more hits short of being a murder case.

Gabriel reaches out and rests his hand on Noah’s chest. Feeling the slow and steady beat of his heart against his palm. Just to remind himself that Noah is still alive.

In the countless times he’s imagined getting that call in the past, he’s never once imagined Noah still breathing at the end of it. It just hadn’t seemed likely.

But he’s here. Lungs inflating in his chest, rising up to meet the gentle touch of Gabriel's hand.

Noah is going to survive this, just like he’s survived everything else he’s put himself through. There is no other option.

Gabriel just hopes he won’t be too changed for it.

Gabriel sits with him for a few hours. Just watching him rest. Hands never leaving him for long.

He thinks about the last time Noah was at the studio. How happy and carefree he’d seemed. Gabriel had known from the moment he’d turned up, exactly where he’d come from, could always tell when he’d been spending time with his cowboy.

Gabriel blinks. Martin.

Unlocking Noah’s phone is an easy matter. There are no secrets between them, not even pin codes. The phone is thankfully accounted for in the plastic bag holding Noah’s small collection of items.

Gabriel steps out into the hallway to make the call, he’s not sure why. It’s not like Noah is going to hear him. But he needs a moment to himself anyway. Needs to take a breath.

Finding the right name in the contact list isn’t an issue, there aren’t that many names in there, but actually hitting the call button is harder than Gabriel was expecting.

He rips the band-aid off and brings the phone up to his ear. Cracked screen rough against his cheek.

It rings for a long time, long enough to have him second guessing himself. He’s almost sure no one is going to pick up when finally the line connects.

“Noah?” It’s urgent. Scared. “Noah, where are you, what's wrong?”

Gabriel’s chest aches. He can hear himself in Martin’s voice. Knows that if Noah called him out of the blue like this he’s be saying exactly the same words. Knows that he too would be fearing the worst.

“Noah! Talk to me.”

Gabriel shakes himself. Shuts his eyes. “Martin Hart?”

“No.” Martin’s breath leaves him with the word. “No, no, no, no, please-”

“He’s alive.” Gabriel is quick to clarify. “He’s alive.”

He can practically feel the relief in the silence across the line. He opens his mouth to continue, but no words come out. Martin’s fear for Noah’s life has rocked him. To know that someone else cares as much about Noah as Gabriel does- it’s stunned him.

“But he’s hurt?” Martin asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

Gabriel nods before he realizes Martin’s can’t see him. “He’s-” He swallows. “He’s unconscious. Broken a few bones too. They don’t know how long he’ll be out for, or if he’ll be himself when he wakes up, or-” His voice cracks. He hadn’t realized he was crying, but his cheeks are suddenly wet. “Can you-” He’s not really sure what he’s asking for, just knows that this is too much, even for him.

“I’m on my way, Gabriel.” Martin says, he must have assumed who was calling, there aren’t that many people in Noah’s life, after all. “You keep him company, yeah? I’ll be there as soon as I can, just tell me where you are.”

Gabriel rattles off the address. It’s a six hour drive from wherever Martin is, apparently. The thought of sitting in that hospital room alone for six more hours is enough to have Gabriel feeling sick.

He listens to Martin move around on the other end of the line, likely getting some things together before he heads out. The sound is soothing, less lonely, but then Martin tells him he has to hang up, that he only owns a landline, and Gabriel swallows down his dread and lets him go.

A nurse stops by a few hours later to check Noah’s vitals and to make sure he’s comfortable.

Gabriel watches her work with a numb sort of detachment. She’s humming and chatting, seemingly to the both of them, about nothing in particular, and Gabriel doesn’t bother answering her. He just gives her a tight smile when she comes to give him a pat on the shoulder before she leaves.

He can’t help the way he keeps checking his watch. He’s subconsciously counting down the hours until Martin gets here. He feels childish. Like he’s a kid waiting for an adult to come help them through a situation they can’t handle on their own.

He doesn’t even know this guy. Yet he sort of does. Noah is always talking about him, about his farm and his animals and the way Martin cooks for him. Real, actual food when Noah rarely gets to have anything besides junk food.

He remembers how distrustful he’d been towards this Martin guy when Noah had first told him about him. He'd imagined some older creep, manipulative and taking advantage of a young man desperate for his own place in the world.

He’d expected Martin to try to pin Noah down. Or to use him and discard him when he got too much. Wouldn’t have been the first time. But it’s been four years now, since Noah first met him. And every time Noah finds his way back to Gabriel’s studio after having spent time with the guy. He’s happy. Happier than Gabriel ever gets to see him.

Gabriel can always tell when Noah is leaving him to go stay with Martin too, even if he doesn’t let on that that’s where he’s headed. There’s an excitement to him that is unmistakable. Like he can’t wait to let his bike eat up the miles between them.

Of course there are times when Noah comes to him in a bad mood. They have their fights, every now and then. Mostly it’s Noah’s fault, but even so, Gabriel always feels a twinge of anger directed at Martin too, even if it’s almost never warranted. He just can’t help it.

With almost an hour left on the clock, there’s a timid knock on the door.

Gabriel doesn’t bother calling out or standing to open it, and he doesn’t have to, because only seconds later a tall, weathered man steps into the room.

He looks so much like your stereotypical cowboy it almost makes Gabriel want to laugh.

He’s wearing a red plaid shirt with an old work jacket pulled over it. He’s clutching a brown hat to his chest, just as dusty with red dirt as his well worn jeans and boots.

He freezes in the door, eyes going wide at the sight of Noah on the bed. He looks like he’s been physically stuck by the image.

Gabriel wonders then, how often Noah comes to him with bruises on his face. If he reserves that privilege for Gabriel alone, or if it’s just as common of an occurrence for Martin as it is for him.

“Hey.” Gabriel says, his voice comes out hoarse, raspy with disuse.

Martin doesn’t startle exactly, but he snaps out of his shock enough to look over. He blinks. “You Gabriel?” His voice is deep. He almost sounds stern, except Gabriel can tell he isn’t trying to be.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You speed all the way here or what?” He has to have been, to have gotten here this early.

Martin just shrugs. He slips out of his jacket and pulls up a chair, sitting next to Gabriel, facing the bed. He stares at Noah for a long time, silent.

“He woken up at all?”

Gabriel sighs. He reaches over and places his hand back on Noah’s bandaged one. “Not yet. They don’t know how long he’ll need. Something about the swelling on his brain going down first.”

Martin nods. “Do you know what happened?”

He knows Martin must have drawn the same conclusions as him. That he must have assumed Noah had a wreck until he saw his injuries. The way they don’t line up with those of an accident.

“Not really. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Thought he was out your way.”

“He was. Left a few days ago, said he was heading this way but, you know-”

Gabriel does know. Noah has always been bad at keeping him in the loop. He knows he’s even worse about doing so for Martin. “Thank you for coming, by the way.”

Martin smiles at him, and for a second he understands why Noah was drawn to him in the first place. He has a warmth to him, a steadiness that is sorely lacking from Noah’s life. He feels like a rock, sitting beside Gabriel like this, even as he’s clearly going through a lot in his own head, he projects an outward calmness that does a lot to soothe Gabriel’s worries.

“Thank you for calling me. I’m grateful for you letting me know. God knows he’d never call me himself.”

Gabriel huffs. Doesn’t he know it.

“I figured he’d want you close, when he wakes up, even if he would never admit to wanting either of us here.”

The cowboy deflates. “I hope so. I hope I’m not overstepping, I never quite know where I stand in all this.”

Gabriel feels a stab of sadness for the man. He clearly cares so much about Noah, and true to form, Noah is making loving him as difficult a choice as possible.

“He would want you here. I know he would.” It doesn’t feel like enough, so he adds. “He never stops talking about you, you know.”

Martin looks over, eyebrows raised. “That true?”

Gabriel nods. “I think I could name every single one of your chickens by now.”

That makes Martin chuckle. Deep and hearty. “He loves those birds.”

“He sure does.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, just the beeping of the machines filling the room. It’s getting later in the day now. The little bit of sunlight hitting the far wall through the curtains is golden against the stark white of the walls.

Gabriel sighs. The sound drawing Martin’s attention. “I need to go see if I can track down his bike before it gets stolen, if it hasn’t been already.” He stands up, wishing he had thought to bring a jacket with him. “Call me if anything changes, yeah?”

He gives Martin the pin code to Noah’s phone and shows him how to find his name in the contact list. It’s obvious the guy has never held a smartphone before, but he figures it out quickly.

“Go.” He says, when Gabriel hesitates in the doorway. “That bike is his whole damn life.”

And isn’t that the truth.

Gabriel spends the next two hours scouring the streets of the downtown area for any sign of the bike.

He knows from the nurses where abouts Noah was found, but it was down a back-alley in an industrial area. Far from the usual kind of place Noah might haunt. And not an easy area to get a motorcycle into. He opts to rule out the more likely places first before trying his luck there.

He checks the streets around every single bar and pub and club he can find, peering into alleys and side streets with no luck.

Next he checks the local motel parking lots. No bike.

Every time he sees a parked motorcycle on the street his heart skips a beat. But it's never Noah's.

He’s about ready to give up and head back to the hospital when he decides to finally go look at the area Noah was found in. He just feels the need to see it for himself. Like maybe it will clear things up somehow. Give him some answers.

Finding the exact alleyway isn’t hard.

There’s police tape all around it. It’s a full on crime scene.

Gabriel doesn’t go beyond the tape. Scared to disturb anything that might be important to finding whoever did this to him. Even if he knows the investigation will inevitably end up closed before anything comes up. It’s not worth the resources. Not for some homeless biker with a track record of petty crime and picking fights.

Standing at the mouth of the alley, leaning over the tape, Gabriel looks down into the darkness between the old buildings.

He doesn’t even need to bring his phone’s flashlight up to see the pool of blood on the ground.

There’s a pallet by the wall that’s splintered, like something impacted it. Fell on it maybe, or was pushed. Between it and the pool of blood lays a rusty old steel pipe.

It paints a picture well enough.

Gabriel turns away before he makes himself sick. He knows he should head back to the hospital, but he can’t bring himself to go just yet. He feels like a failure, both for not having found the bike, but also for not doing more to prevent this from happening in the first place.

He should have been a better friend. Should have talked Noah out of this kind of lifestyle, kept him safe.

Not that it would have done anything except push Noah further away from him.

He walks down towards where he knows the river will be. The old docks are silent around him. The only sound the humming of the lights illuminating the area, and the occasional seagull looking for a place to hunker down for the night.

He’s getting dangerously cold. He’s been walking around for hours, having left his car back at the hospital so he could ride the bike back if he found it. Now it’s looking like he’ll be walking back too. He’s not dressed for this. He should go before-

He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s following the river back into town when he passes underneath a bridge. The rumble of traffic above him loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

It’s pure chance that he glances up and into the darkness underneath the cover of the overhanging structure.

It’s Tansy.

She’s tucked up against a massive support beam, half covered by Noah’s trusty old tent haphazardly pitched against her side on the asphalt.

Noah’s things are all there, by some miracle. His backpack is hidden inside the tent along with his helmet, and upon closer inspection, his saddle bags are untouched.

Gabriel shakes his head at Noah’s luck. It’s always a theme with him, luck. He seems to have endless amounts of it, always working in his favor. Even now, stuck in a hospital bed with injuries bordering on incompatible with life, yet he’s facing decent odds, if the doctors are to be believed.

Pure luck, they’d said, that he wasn’t worse off.

Gabriel swallows down the bile in his throat and starts taking the tent down to pack it away.

Noah’s keys feel good in his hand when he pulls them out of his pocket, and he feels a surge of pride and relief when he turns it in the ignition and kicks the bike to life.

Tansy starts up just as willingly as she always does.

Gabriel lets her idle while he puts Noah’s helmet on. It’s far too tight on him, and he can already tell he’s going to have a banging headache by the time he makes it back to the hospital.

“Did you find her?” Martin asks as soon as Gabriel comes through the door. He’s sitting in Gabriel’s chair now, pushed up close to Noah’s side.

Gabriel holds the helmet up in answer. “Pure luck. But I did, in the end.”

“Good. Here, I’ll-” He goes to stand up, but Gabriel stops him.

“Sit. It’s alright. I’ve been with him all day.” Martin looks unsure, but he nods and sits back down. The way he takes Noah’s injured hand in his own is so achingly tender Gabriel has to look away to keep himself from letting his already worn thin walls crumble.

He’s exhausted, emotionally and physically drained, but he can do this. He can hold it together for a while longer.