Page 43 of Noble Charms

Destined to be crushed by an indifferent, oblivious man.

“The bistro set I've had since I first arrived in the city, actually,” said Aria, fretting around it on the street corner outside his former temporary apartment. The landlady and her maintenance man helped Aria empty the small space he'd borrowed for less than a week—and now, as he and Noble and Morgan stood by the stoop, he was embarrassed by the volume of stuff. They couldn't make it in one trip if they wanted to bring the table along. Aria said, “Look. We can leave it for the trashmen to take. I really should have let it go years ago.”

Morgan had two suitcases and a duffle slung over his shoulder. He shifted his weight and said, “We'll come back for it.” Across town twice? No.

“It's too much work. Forget it,” said Aria, flushing red.

Noble, also hauling two suitcases and a duffle bag, hummed in thought. “Can you carry a chair?”

“A chair? Yes, of course.” Aria put his carpet bag's handle into the crook of his arm, and picked up one chair. He tested the weight—it was heavy, but not unbearably so, if he used both hands like this. “I really don't mind leaving it. It's terribly old. And probably worthless.”

“But look at that pretty design painted on the side,” said Noble, blissfully ignorant that Aria himself had painted that on. “The little flowers? It's cute. And it'd look right at home in the kitchen, I think. There’s a nook by the back window that’s stayed empty. It’ll fit perfectly there.” He tucked one of Aria's suitcases under his arm, freeing himself enough to loop the back of the second bistro chair onto his bicep. And then he crouched down, put his enormous hand around the table's tulip-shaped iron base, and lifted it into the air. With one hand. “Got it. That everything?”

Aria knew he was gaping, awed and incapable of hiding his astonishment. “That has a solid marble top attached to it, Noble.”

“Hm. Is it real marble? It's a little heavy. Not bad, though.” To make his point, he straightened his arm into the air, lifting the table like it was a bouquet of flowers, and not a solid heavy mass of metal and stone. Morgan visibly, and perhaps pointedly, rolled his eyes.

Long ago, Noble mentioned he had demi-god strength and Aria had never gotten to see it.

So, again, it wasn't exactly Aria's fault that his wires got crossed. He’d always been drawn to strong men. When they reached Noble's townhome and unloaded everything into Aria's new room—which was actually two rooms, attached by an archway with pocket doors, and an enormous full bath—Aria's thoughts grew more and more frayed. Noble marched through all of New Hieroph for him. And did so with an impressive display of strength.

“Thanks, Morg,” said Noble as Morgan carried the second dining chair down the hall to the kitchen.

The front doorbell rang, and when Noble took a step towards the stairs, Morgan called out, “I've got it. Unload your bard.”

Your bard.

Aria's cool, unaffected mask tinted pink by his amorous thoughts—Noble could lift him just as easily as that table—but he pretended otherwise as he busied himself folding some socks and placing them into the chest of drawers near the window. “I suppose Morgan knows about our ruse, then. That I’m not actually your adame.”

“He’s too observant a type to be fooled by us anyway. Worry not. He’ll keep our secret.”

Aria didn’t know him well, but trusted Noble’s judgment on this.

Noble stepped back to look over the items brought into his home. “See. Moving isn't too bad. You had me worried it would be a nightmare. This was a lovely brisk walk on a sunny autumn day,” he said. He dropped onto Aria's bed, seated with his big legs spread apart, and he rolled out his bare shoulders, gone stiff from carrying everything. He and Morgan both shucked their shirts halfway through the walk. They reasoned they may as well walk around in their white undershirts when Noble's reputation was already at its lowest. None would care, even if he got recognized.

Especially none would care if they gazed upon his beautifully golden brown skin and the enormous thick band of muscles that made up each arm. Black hair accented every pulsing vein, and the sheen of sweat had him glowing exactly like the Sun God that he was.

Aria really couldn't blame himself for what came next. While he opted to wear a proper robe the whole walk over, he'd sweated through it, and desperately needed to cool down. Aria peeled the robe from himself, and said, “Where's the best place for me to do the washing? I'll start a pile.”

Noble looked up from the bedspread he'd been examining, froze, and blinked a few times like he didn't understand the question. And perhaps he didn't. It was likely a service came in and out of his home to do the washing. Or perhaps he'd been startled by the reveal of Aria's pale legs, and gauzy, silk-blend under shorts, and the matching cropped sleeveless top. His damp visage, like that of a drowned colorless rat, could strike fear into many men.

He walked closer to Noble and said, “Noble?”

Noble tore his eyes away from Aria's thighs, blinking like he'd gazed into the sun itself. Well, that was a little rude, Aria didn't say—he couldn't help that he didn't get out into sunlight often. He was a bard and he worked nights. Noble, thankfully, opted to remain polite, and said, “Sorry. I'm more tired than I thought. Did you ask something?”

“Nevermind. I'll ask Morgan later.” Aria placed his sweaty robe over the bedpost. He felt flush from trying—and failing—to not examine the wide berth of Noble's shoulders. “I can help, though. If you're tired.” Yes, that's it. That's why he was eyeing Noble like this. It seemed plausible enough. “Would you like a massage? I've a little bit of training. And I can sing a song—for Soothe. It'll help us both.”

Noble opened and closed his mouth a few times, fishing for words, before he said, “Really?”

“Of course.” Aria walked over to the other side of the bed and climbed on. He positioned himself on his knees behind Noble and said. “I'd say to relax, but the song'll do that for you.”

Noble shifted until he was seated most comfortably, and gave a nod for Aria to go ahead. Aria hummed a slow tune—no words. They weren't needed. His fingers connected with Noble's skin, and the heat of him was dialed up to a level Aria had not experienced before. It bordered on painful, like the furnace inside Noble had been left on too long.

It wasn't Aria's fault he got confused. Noble was hot. Aria was too. And⁠—

And—

He picked a gentle melody while he cast Soothe. The feeling of the magic sank into them both. Aria let himself obey his instincts to move from massaging Noble's shoulders. He shifted from Noble's deltoids down his arms instead. He couldn't help it—he wanted to touch the thick, hard shape of his biceps.