“Mornin’,” Noah mumbled, tightening his arms around Aspen, accidentally brushing their chest again.
The moan that escaped their mouth wasn’t quite full volume, but it sounded absurdly loud in the quiet room. Noah froze, his arm still pressed gently against the curve of one of Aspen’s… Okay, this was ridiculous.
“I don’t know what to call them,” Aspen groaned, tilting their shoulder so Noah’s arm dragged along the sensitive flesh. “There are two of them, so ‘chest’ doesn’t really make any sense.”
Noah remained frozen, his breathing growing shallower as he woke up. “I think…when I used to call mine ‘my chest’…it was because I didn’t really want to think about them at all. It was an easy word to say and move on. That seemed to be what you wanted yesterday, but…”
“But not this morning,” Aspen finished for him. “I’m so fucking horny, and your arm brushed one of them, and I realized I really want you to touch them…it…the one, but also maybe both? Ugh.”
Aspen rolled onto their back, and Noah adjusted, giving them space to lie down before he pressed up against their side, his arm still resting below Aspen’s rack.
Yeah, no, that still wasn’t the right word–and it was also singular!
“Have there ever been words you liked to use to describe them?” Noah asked, running his hand up Aspen’s sternum, his pinky and thumb brushing along the curved shape of both.
“I hate boobs,” they said, scrunching up their nose. “And breasts. Jesus, please don’t ever call them that.”
Aspen threw an arm over their face and felt that clawing sensation across the back of their neck. It happened anytime they, or someone else, misgendered them or said something especially dysphoric.
Noah, either unaware or trying to distract them, traced his middle finger over the top of one and then circled around the bottom. It felt nice, but more of a tease than anything else.
“So, you want it to be plural, and not those two words?”
Aspen began tapping their foot, first three, then four times. “Yes.”
Noah hummed in thought before dipping his hand under the collar of Aspen’s shirt. It was so big, he was easily able to shift it over until one of Aspen’s…chesticles popped out.
Fucking hell, that was the worst one yet.
Aspen groaned, but it turned into a soft moan as Noah began tracing his finger up to the top of one of the mounds before going back down. Aspen’s arm slid off their face, and they craned their neck to watch as Noah reverently stroked their skin.
When they glanced at him, they caught him staring at their face, not their chest. “You have gorgeous tits,” he said, and the word settled under Aspen’s sternum, right where that butterfly was happily flapping away. It seemed to use its wings to dust off the word, making it shiny and new and perfect.
“Th-thank you,” they whispered, all their earlier volume gone.
Noah’s smile was slow and sultry as he bent forward and pressed a kiss into the side of their left tit. “Do you like your nipples being played with?”
Aspen whimpered. That was a bit of a complex question. Sometimes they absolutely loved it and would practically beg for it in the moment. Other times, even having their chest brushed made them rage-y. They’d once bitten Ethan’s tongue when he grabbed their chest during a kiss. It was so hard to explain, and he’d been confused and angry–which, honestly, Aspen had been as well. They didn’t know why sometimes their chest was a no-fly zone—it just was.
Noah stopped his tracing, waiting for Aspen to answer, but they didn’t know what to say. They pressed up into his hand, forcing his fingers to skirt along the swell and up to their achingly hard nipple.
“Yes?” Noah asked, and Aspen pressed up again. Noah smiled, soft and understanding. “Sometimes?”
Aspen nodded aggressively, and Noah swooped down and dropped a kiss on their lips and then another on their straining nipple. There was something almost reverent in the way he closed his eyes and pressed his soft lips to one of Aspen’s mostcontentious parts. It almost made them believe Noah’s words. That they were…gorgeous.
“Fuck–can we–please,” Aspen whimpered, scrambling for the hem of their shirt.
Noah helped them get it off, then rearranged them so Aspen was lying between his spread legs, their back against his chest. He wasted no time in getting two handfuls of their tits. They were too big to fit in his hands, but he managed to cover the top third or so. Aspen loved the way it looked, with their flesh pushing up between his fingers. It looked like they belonged to him. Like he wanted them just as much as they wanted him, even at fuck-thirty in the morning when he could be sleeping instead.
Aspen squirmed against his hands, and he squeezed them a few times, making a low, satisfied noise in his chest. It made his ribs vibrate against Aspen’s back, like some sort of sexy proof of his arousal. When he released Aspen’s tits, they started to whine, but he immediately opened his hands, rubbing his palms in a circular motion.
“Oh fuck,” Aspen moaned as Noah worked both their nipples to razor-sharp peaks.
Noah kept playing with them, teasing with his fingers, gently scratching with his nails, and pinching just often enough to keep Aspen guessing. They were unbearably hard and wet, and they tried to rub their thighs together, but Noah wrapped his legs around theirs, placing his heels against Aspen’s knees and forcing their legs open.
“Noah–”
“I’ll get to your pretty dick in a moment,” he murmured, directly into their ear.
