A Taste of Roughness

The air in Liam’s apartment, usually thick with the easy comfort of their shared history, had taken on a new, almost electric hum. It started with a whisper, a hesitant suggestion that bloomed in the aftermath of a particularly fervent session, their bodies slick and spent, tangled on the plush rug. Noah, his breath still coming in ragged gasps, had been tracing the line of Liam’s jaw with a fingertip, his eyes dark and unfocused.

“Liam,” he’d murmured, the sound barely audible above the thrumming in their ears. “What if… what if sometimes, I wanted you… harder?”

Liam’s own breath hitched. He’d known Noah was curious, had seen the flicker of something beyond simple affection in his gaze more and more often. But this… this was a new frontier. He propped himself up on an elbow, his gaze searching Noah’s face. “Harder how, Noah?” he asked, his voice low and steady, an invitation rather than a challenge. He was always game for exploration, for pushing the boundaries of their burgeoning intimacy.