fidgetspringer-art

[fidgetspringer-art]

Cowboys AU part 1

Here's the start of that cowboys AU I mentioned! Just the first few pages, but I might share more later. It just needs looking over first.

-

Noah is 16 years old the first time he truly notices Martin Hart.

He’d seen him before, obviously, Oxrun was only a small town after all, the kind where everyone knew each other in some way or another. Everyone knew the Harts at least. It was hard not to, seeing as they took up so much space. Kurtis Hart was essentially the face of their town, his ranch large enough to provide work for damn near half the population.

So, Noah had met his son, Martin, before. They’d never spoken, exactly, but they’d exchanged polite nods the handful of times their fathers had swept each other up in conversation at the local markets.

He’d never truly seen Martin though. Not until now.

The rodeo is in town. A twice yearly spectacle that kicks off a weekend of livestock trading and bartering, competitions and dancing. The weekend ends on a bang with the bull riding.

This is where Noah is when his entire world is abruptly and permanently tilted on its axis.

Martin Hart is his father’s pride and joy in more ways than one, but maybe the most significant of them is the fact that he’s damn near unbeaten in the bull riding ring. He’s been riding bulls since he was a kid and at 24 he’s in top shape.

His father parades him around like one of their prize bulls, showing him off like some piece of meat.

On this day in particular, Martin is the last rider in the ring.

The gates fly open and the bull charges out. The crowd holds their breath as the beast bucks and twists, trying to rid itself of its pesky passenger.

The rider holds on effortlessly for a heart-stopping few seconds that seem to stretch on for hours and as the bell rings to signal the eight seconds are up ,Kurtis Hart’s golden boy slides off the bull's back and rolls to a stop with practised ease.

His dismount puts him right near the fence. Directly in front of where Noah is standing on the lowest rung, leaning down to watch him get to his feet. Martin brushes the dirt off his chaps and looks up, directly into Noah’s eyes. He smiles, winks with a nod and walks off alongside the man on horseback who’s come to keep the bull away from him while he exits the arena.

Noah is left staring after him. Feeling like he’s just been trampled by a couple of bulls himself.

After that, Noah is always at the fence whenever Martin is riding. He sharpens his hearing instinctively any time someone mentions the Hart name. And he always keeps an eye out whenever he’s in town, hoping to catch a glance.

It’s three years later that everything changes.

It’s the middle of lambing, so Noah has had to stay home with the flock instead of watching the bull riding this weekend. He’s more than a little pissy about it. Martin only rides for the general public so many times a year, and while this isn’t one of the big, twice yearly livestock markets, he still doesn’t want to miss it.

Lambs don’t wait though, so he doesn’t have much choice in the matter.

He doesn’t hear the news until two days later, when word finally makes it all the way out to their little homestead, by way of an old friend of Noah’s father riding in with a delivery.

Noah listens in numbly.

Martin had been riding one of his father’s own bulls. They breed them big out there. Big and mean.

His bull had charged across the arena out of the gate, bucked up once and lost its footing.

It had tipped forwards and gone straight through the fence, shattering the beams into splinters.

With Martin’s fragile human body between the bull and the unforgiving post, his spine had hit the wood first, before the massive weight of the bull had come down on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

The bull had still been kicking and fighting to get back on its feet by the time people had come rushing in to help.

Martin Hart was unresponsive, they said, until they’d lifted him up to move him onto a stretcher. He’d screamed in pain, despite the way he was rapidly slipping into unconsciousness. Noah felt the bile rising in his throat as the old man, Bill, described the near animal sound in vivid detail. Like Martin had been completely helpless to stop it.

Apparently the prognosis was grim. No one had much faith the lad would survive for very long with such an injury. Frankly it was a miracle he hadn’t been killed instantly.

Bill didn’t have much else to say after that. Kurtis Hart had taken the broken remains of his golden boy home and sent for every willing doctor within a week’s journey to come help his son.

Bill had shaken his head sadly then, in a way that told Noah he already considered it a lost cause.

Noah had gone behind the house after that and thrown up his lunch, heaving into the grass, feeling only a numb sort of pricking at his fingertips as his stomach turned again and again.

Martin Hart, golden child of Oxrun, was dead.

Except, Martin Hart never did die. At least, not to Noah’s knowledge.

There is no funeral. No new graves dug out by the church. At first, it’s as if Martin never existed. For months, there’s nothing.

The only reason Noah knows he hasn’t lost his mind and made the whole man up is because people around town talk. Every now and then he’ll overhear someone in the general store ask each other in hushed voices if there’s news of the Hart boy. There never is. Not at first.

Kurtis Hart comes through town every now and then, looking decades older than he had only a few weeks ago. No one dares bring up his son directly, but whenever he’s presented with an obviously leading question of ‘so, how are things?’ he simply gives a clipped non-answer and changes the subject.

It isn’t until Noah is wasting the evening away at the local saloon that he finally gets some answers. He’s up at the bar, nursing his second glass of scotch when the previously rowdy voices at the table behind him suddenly turn hushed.

Noah tunes in immediately.

“-should have put him out of his misery if you ask me.” The first kid, Tom, says. He’s Noah’s age, lives in town with his mother, Noah’s only met him in passing. Now that he thinks about it he remembers hearing his father say something about Tom Jacobs taking a job up at the Hart ranch for the weekends.

“What, like a sick dog?” one of the other lads pipes up with a grimace. Noah doesn’t recognise this one, but his accent suggests he might not be a local.

“Seems kinder than keeping him locked up in the fucking attic. Aubrey says he can’t do anything himself, just lies in bed all day. Says they have to keep him drugged out of his mind so he doesn’t go batty from the pain.”

Noah’s hand shakes as he raises his glass to take another drink. He’s not sure what he’s feeling exactly, but the disgust settling in his gut isn’t that hard to identify.

“Don’t tell anyone I said that though.” Tom is quick to add. “Mr. Hart is real specific about not wanting anyone to know the state his golden boy is in.”

the lads exchange murmured promises and the conversation moves on, but Noah is stuck.

Not only is Martin Hart still alive. Months after an accident that for all intents and purposes should have killed him from the start. But he’s being actively kept hidden away by his father. Locked up and out of sight, no doubt to avoid staining his family name.

The scotch doesn’t sit well in Noah’s stomach after that.

He goes home to bed and he dreams of Martin, of his accident. Wakes with the sound of his body being crushed between the splintered fence and the weight of the bull echoing in his ears.

Another year passes without news of Martin.

Noah thinks about him often. A few times he happens to ride past the Hart ranch and he finds himself scanning the windows of the main house, wondering which one is hiding a broken man, wonders if he’s still even in there somewhere.

There are rumours of course. Whispered speculation between bored housewives with nothing better to do than gossip. Most of it is obviously overdramatised and reeks of petty lies. Noah doesn’t buy into any of it. He knows better than to trust words that have changed mouths dozens of times already. He ignores them, even if his hearing sharpens automatically to listen in.

Noah spends most of the year trying to put the whole thing out of his mind. It’s more difficult than he’d hoped, but what is he supposed to do? Whenever he brings it up to anyone they hastily cast a worried glance around and quickly change the subject. It’s like no one cares how Kurtis Hart treats his son so long as they can keep him in their good favours.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Soon after the start of spring, his father tells Noah he’ll have to find work somewhere else to help make ends meet. His father is getting too old to take jobs around town and their flock isn’t producing enough to keep them afloat.

He’s checking the town noticeboard when he sees it. A poster marked with the Harts’ family seal. Seeking young ranch hands for the summer months. There are two full time positions, food and lodge in exchange for ranch work and a small wage. The salary is modest but it’s good enough.

Noah looks over his shoulder before he rips the paper down and stuffs it in his coat pocket. If he’s lucky the notice hasn’t been seen by too many eligible workers yet.

His dad is expecting him home by dinner, but he figures that if he comes home with good news he’ll be forgiven.

He mounts the old farm nag he’d left hitched down the street and sets off out of town, following the roads he’s known his whole life.

[fidgetspringer-art]

A few months ago now I had dream that Noah was a Sphynx cat for some reason, and he kept trying to hide in my hoodie. So i had to draw kitty Noah real quick just to get it out of my system.

[fidgetspringer-art]

“You asked me before, if I’d met other wolves.”

Marten nods. “You said you have.”

“I’ve met a handful, most of them only briefly and under unpleasant circumstances.” He takes a deep breath. “But there was one other.”

There’s a pained expression on the Cat’s face now. He's distant, like he’s no longer here in the room with Marten, but lost in some far away memory. Judging by his scent it isn’t a very good one.

“Were you close?”

Nohren chuckles sadly. “You could say that. We spent our first decade on the path together, met completely by chance after a hunt, hit it off and just sort of stuck together. I’ve never met someone like him, we told each other everything.” Marten now knows exactly where this is going. He’s lost enough brothers to be familiar with this particular brand of grief. “That’s why I know about the hot springs. I also know you have a library, I know about the names carved into the rafters in the great hall, I know that you hang the medallions of fallen Witchers on the branches of a tree, and that the keep can only be found by someone who already knows the way.”

Nohren worries his lip between his teeth. “Over a decade of trading stories means I know Kaer Morhen so well I could walk the halls blind, even if I’ve never been there.” he looks up to meet Marten’s wide eyes. “So there you have it. He wasn’t meant to tell me, but he loved that old ruin so much he was bursting with it. That’s why I know, not for any nefarious reason or ill intent, just through the stories of a man who adored his home too much to keep it all to himself.”

[fidgetspringer-art]

Everyone needs to see the kitty Noah plushie that @seeminglydark made for me!!

Honestly one of the most thoughtful gifts i've ever recieved. All the work that went into this is nuts <3

[fidgetspringer-art]

Smutty fic to make up for my current absence. Ft. Noah and Gabriel getting together before Noah Martin made it out of the mutual pining stage. So we've got a Noah who is very horny for a certain cowboy who has yet to pick up on the fact that he wants to jump his bones. Gabriel indulges his fantasies ;)

-

When Noah pulls up outside the tattoo studio, there’s miraculously an empty parking spot there waiting for him.

He wedges his bike into it and kills the engine. It’s cold enough out that it starts ticking immediately, the metal cooling quickly.

He’s grateful for his trusty old jacket on days like these, it’s just about the only warm piece of clothing he owns.

As Noah is ridding himself of his gloves, still straddling the seat of his bike, a window creaks open above him.

“Thought I recognized the sound of that engine.” Gabriel is leaning on the windowsill, squinting down at him from the second floor. “Didn’t know you were in the area.”

Noah pulls his helmet off. “I wasn’t.”

He watches Gabriel’s eyes widen at the sight of him. The dark bruise covering half his face. Lip freshly split.

Gabriel sighs and slumps against the edge of the window. “So it’s like that, then.”

Noah doesn’t say anything. Just tucks his helmet under his arm and pulls the keys from the ignition.

Gabriel straightens. “I’ll buzz you in.”

The familiarity of Gabriel’s small apartment is a welcome balm to Noah’s fried nerves. He kicks his boots haphazardly to the side and shrugs off his jacket. He can hear Gabe rustling around in the living room. The sound of papers being shuffled through.

When Noah walks in he finds Gabriel setting a pile of sketches down on his desk, probably having moved them off the coffee table to make space.

He’s turning around, about to say something when Noah shoves him back against the desk and kisses him.

Gabriel allows it for a while. Leans into it when Noah takes charge, doesn’t fight him until Noah gets too bold.

A hand shoved up underneath Gabriel’s hoodie is enough to earn him a sharp bite to his lip, before he’s suddenly the one pushed down onto the desk, head held firmly against the wood by a broad hand to the back of his skull. God he loves how much bigger than him Gabe is.

Gabriel drapes himself over him to speak into his ear. “That’s not how this works and you know it.”

Noah squirms, and it only gets his hands pinned behind his back. He groans at the strain but the pain is good, that’s exactly what he’s after.

“Come on, Gabe.” he grits out. “Need it.”

Gabriel’s hold on him suddenly vanishes as he steps away. Noah bites back a whine of disappointment.

“You know I have a life of my own, right? I don’t just sit around waiting for you to decide you need me.”

Gabriel slumps down onto the sofa, arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

Noah gets his elbows under himself, turning to scowl at him. He knows full well this isn’t fair. The way he’s been treating Gabe the last few years, using him, to put it more plainly. This isn’t the first time Noah has showed up at his door, bruised and hurting in more ways than one, to egg Gabe on until he gives Noah what he wants.

It’s that, or he shows up to crash on his couch. A soft place to land for a moment, before he disappears again, more often than not without a word of goodbye.

He also knows that Gabriel doesn’t really care though, and that might be a part of the issue. Makes it a little easier to pretend like it’s not wrong, if nothing else.

Gabriel has been his best friend since they were old enough to make friends. He’s always been in Noah’s life. He knows better than anyone what Noah is like.

Maybe that’s why he’s so good at getting him out of his head.

“Come on, Gabe.” He knows he sounds petulant. “Just a quick fuck, make it hurt, you can kick me out after.”

Gabriel’s eyes darken dangerously. Angry sure, but hungry too.

“And what if I said no? Can kick you out without laying hands on you.”

Noah straightens up, cocks his hip against the desk and tips his chin up, challenging. “You wouldn’t.”

There’s a tense pause. Gabriel chews his lip. Doesn’t take his eyes off of Noah for a second. “I have a client in two hours. You’ll have to wait.”

“Can get a lot done in two hours.” Noah takes the olive branch, finally pushing off the desk and joining Gabriel on the couch. He hadn’t expected he’d actually kick him out, but there’s still a sense of relief when he slumps down into the cushions and Gabriel slings an arm over the back of the sofa behind him, fingers playing with his shirt collar.

“Sure. I’m not giving you the satisfaction though.” He pinches the crook of Noah’s neck. “Don’t want to reward you for bursting in here demanding whatever you want.”

Noah shrugs, jostling Gabriel’s hand to no avail. “Never been an issue before.”

Gabriel flicks his ear with a scoff. The sting makes Noah flinch and bat him away. “Maybe it should have been.” he sighs. “Besides, judging by the state of you, a quick and dirty fuck is the last thing you really need right now. If we’re doing this we’re doing it proper, I want to take my time with you.” His hand shifts to touch the side of Noah’s throat. “I’m not letting you leave this time until I decide you’re where you need to be.” He taps Noah’s head with two of his fingers.

Noah snorts. “What, you gonna tie me up to keep me from leaving?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

He’d be lying if he said that didn’t appeal. Gabriel wanting to take his time doesn’t sound so bad either, even if it’s not the immediate release that he’d been hoping for. He can’t help but push though, can’t quite ignore the insistent thrumming beneath his skin.

He turns, laying his hand on Gabriel’s thigh, a little too high. “Fine. But how about a little something to hold me over until then?” He pushes his hand up, slowly, fingertips running along the inseam of Gabriel’s jeans until his fingers are brushing against his fly. “I could suck you off.”

Gabriel isn’t unaffected. His eyes are blown, mouth a little slack, and as Noah’s hand travels upwards, he subconsciously spreads his thighs for him.

When Noah touches the back of his knuckles to the bulge between his legs, Gabriel twitches in his jeans, firming up under his fingers.

Noah leans in until they’re panting into each other’s mouths, breaths hot where they intermingle between them. They come together the moment that Noah palms him properly, reveling in the way it makes Gabriel’s hips kick up into the touch.

Gabriel growls and breaks the kiss, shoving Noah back against the armrest, pinning him there with a hand to his chest. His eyes are stormy. “Enough.”

Noah grins, smug and full of teeth. It isn’t often that he can knock Gabriel off kilter like this, and it’s always a treat when he pulls it off.

Gabe scowls at him, but the pretty blush creeping up the back of his neck does a lot to soften the already half-baked threat. “Behave. I can still take back the offer.”

He won’t, Noah knows that just as well as he does, but he still puts his hands up in surrender.

He can be good, at least for now. Even if the itch to keep pushing is hard to ignore. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Gabriel squints at him.

He traces the shape of an ‘X’ on his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“As if your promises ever mean fuck all.” And that should sting, and it does a little, but it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. Gabriel stands up and turns the hand still on Noah’s chest into a fist, hauling him to his feet by the front his shirt. “Go have a shower, you reek.” He lets him go. “I’ll order us some food.”

“Do I get to pick what I’m having?”

Gabriel cocks his eyebrow in a way that says ‘What do you think?’

“I’ll leave a change of clothes for you on the bed.”

The only bathroom of Gabriel’s small apartment is an en suite, and Noah breathes in the familiar scent of Gabriel’s bedroom on his way past.

He’s spent countless nights in that bed, when Gabriel hasn’t been pissed enough with him to delegate him to the couch.

Usually Noah arrives in the middle of the night, or drunk, or sick.

Gabriel will always grumble when he comes to sleepily open the door for him, but he’ll hold the blanket open in invitation when they get to the bedroom. Letting Noah curl up against him.

He’s spent a good few days in there too, napping while Gabriel is downstairs working in the studio.

He’s lucky to have Gabriel in his life. In another world it probably would have been the two of them together. In a better one maybe. Noah has never really believed in soulmates, but he figures Gabriel is as close as it gets. Familiar and comforting, no matter how long they spend apart.

Noah undresses in the bathroom. Door cracked. No point in locking it.

He spots Gabriel come into the bedroom just as he turns the shower on. Spray too loud to hear him, but he doesn’t have to hear to know he’s humming whatever song is stuck in his head.

He digs through his wardrobe for something that will fit Noah.

Gabriel is back out in the living room when Noah comes out, towel wrapped around his hips.

There’s a neatly stacked pile of clothes set out on the bed, waiting for him.

At the top is a pair of tick, black socks and one of Gabriel’s boxers. They fit him a little loosely, but he’s grateful for that fact when he picks up the next item.

He’s not surprised, exactly. It’s the same well-worn pair of leather pants that Gabriel seems to favor on him. Softened and supple from years of use. They used to be Gabriel’s, when they were teenagers, but he’s done some growing since then. These days they fit Noah just right.

Last is a baggy white muscle tee, large enough to be sliding off his shoulder on one side. It’s hanging off him to the point where he might as well be topless with how little it covers up.

When he steps into the living room he finds that Gabriel has changed out of his hoodie and into a neat, red button up shirt and a pair of loose black jeans tucked into his trusty old combat boots.

Noah stumbles for a moment, something in his chest catching unexpectedly.

A memory flashes through his mind. Of Martin in a deep red shirt, same but different. He’s got his jeans tucked into his boots too. Not combat boots but just as worn in. His jeans aren’t black, but a faded blue dusted with red sand.

He’s never made that connection before. Between Gabriel’s usual style and Martin’s everyday clothes. Both of them with a fondness for red button downs and jeans, though at the complete opposite ends of the spectrum.

“You ok?” Gabriel’s concern snaps him out of the moment he’s found himself frozen in. he blinks.

“Yeah, sorry. Food on the way?” Gabriel looks him over, assessing, but he lets him change the subject without pushing.

He nods. “Should be here in the next 30 minutes. Got you that burger you like so much. The one that makes you moan like a slut.”

Noah shrugs. “Can’t help it. I swear it’s better than sex.”

“You’re welcome to fuck it then. Let me have the rest of my day back.”

“Not getting off that easy.”

“Neither will you be once I get my hands on you.”

They end up watching a movie while they eat. Something Noah’s never seen or heard of before, it’s a cheesy horror movie of some kind, Gabriel calls it a slasher. The fear factor gets a little lost in the brightness of daylight, but it’s entertaining enough.

The burger is just as good as it always is. And Noah makes sure to not hold anything back when he’s letting Gabriel know just how much he’s enjoying it.

By the end, Gabe is glaring at him with eyes so dark they’re almost black. Just as turned on as he is pissed off, and that’s exactly how Noah likes him best.

“So. How long’s this appointment gonna take?” Noah asks when the credits finally roll.

Gabriel glances down at his watch. Must be almost time for him to head downstairs. “Not too long, it’s only a touch up. An hour, two at most.”

That’s not too bad. Noah feels a little more settled already, just from being around Gabriel, it always makes him feel a little less frayed at the edges.

He’s still itching for something more though, but he can wait, no longer feeling as much like he’s going to claw through his own skin.

“Might have a nap while I wait, then.”

Gabriel huffs. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a bit, call me if you need anything.”

Truth be told, Noah hadn’t actually planned on falling asleep. He’d been meaning to grab one of Gabriel’s coffee table books and just relax until he came back up. But after Noah had gone to grab himself some painkillers from the bathroom, he hadn’t made it back to the living room.

He’d intended to just lay down in Gabe’s bed for a second, just to rest his back a little, but before he knew it his eyelids were feeling dangerously heavy.

He managed to crawl his way up and under the blankets before he gave in and let sleep take him.

Martin’s calloused hands running down Noah’s back is enough to have him arching into the touch. There’s the rasp of a beard against the side of his neck, followed by the warmth of soft lips and sharp teeth working a mark into his skin.

Noah groans and grinds down against the lap below him, enjoying the feeling of Martin hard and hot against the inside of his thigh.

He gasps when Martin’s thumbs trail down to rub gentle circles around his cock, just teasing, until the pressure picks up, and the motion turns pointed and purposeful.

He can hear himself panting out Martin’s name, whole body strung tight with the need to come.

He grinds down again, hoping that might get things moving, and in the next second Martin is bare beneath his thighs and Noah is sinking down onto his cock so suddenly his whole stomach clenches, forcing a wet moan out of him.

“Noah.”

At first it’s Martin’s voice, murmuring his name, but then it changes, and when he hears “Noah wake up. There you go.” it’s all Gabriel.

He feels those big hands on his stomach, pressing him back against a solid chest that is too broad to be Martin. Yet he can still feel Martin’s touch on him like a ghost, can hear the whisper of his breath in his ear.

Gabriel is behind him, the hard line of his cock straining against his jeans is unmistakable where it’s pressed up against Noah’s ass.

He’s dizzy with how turned on he still is, his dream clinging on for dear life.

“God, please fuck me.” He pants, and Gabriel huffs against the top of his shoulder before he presses a kiss there that slowly works its way up, until he’s scraping his teeth against the side of Noah’s neck in a perfect mirror of what Martin had done.

“Heard you moaning his name.” Gabriel teases as he works a hand down into the front of Noah’s boxers, grinding the heel of his hand against Noah’s cock cruelly. “Fuck you’re so wet. All of this or him, huh?”

Noah would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so incredibly turned on. Something about Gabriel using this against him is doing it for him. Something about Gabriel knowing what’s on Noah mind even while he’s the one he’s in bed with. It’s fucked up and wrong but Gabriel doesn’t seem bothered by it. Quite the opposite.

“Tell me about your dream.” Gabriel grinds against his ass, pushing Noah forwards against his hand at the same time. “What was he doing to you?”

Noah pants, letting himself replay the events of the dream in his mind. It’s so easy, when Gabriel is quiet, to imagine it’s Martin’s hands on him instead.

“He was touching me, like you are now, stroking my cock.” He rasps out, breath hitching when Gabriel starts using his fingers more purposefully.

“Like this?”

Noah nods. “Yeah.”

“What else?” Gabriel nips the side of his neck, sending little shocks of pain through him. “Surely that wasn’t all.”

Noah groans. “He-” He stutters as Gabriel speeds up for a moment, catching him off guard. “He was fucking me, I was in his lap- Fuck, Gabe.”

Gabriel chuckles, but then he’s hauling Noah up and positioning them until Noah is in his lap. “Like this?”

Noah’s mouth is so dry he had to clear his throat to get any words out. “Yes.”

Like this he’s left sitting eye to eye with Gabriel, but if he looks down at his chest, at that red button up shirt that’s popped open enough to show some chest hair, it’s not hard to see what he wants to see instead.

He can tell Gabriel is smirking, clearly enjoying playing into this more than Noah would have liked, but he’s too far gone to care right now. He’s been desperate for a chance to have Martin under him like this for months, if this is the closest he’s gonna get then he’ll take it.

“Fuck me already.”

Gabriel grabs his chin and forces his eyes up, breaking his little self constructed illusion. “Bossy.” He’s still smiling though. “You’re a special brand of fucked up, you know that?”

Noah just bares his teeth at him, which makes Gabriel laugh. “Fine. I’ll fuck you. You want to stay like this, or would you rather be on your front, easier to build your little fantasy that way.”

Noah hates that Gabriel is so willing to indulge him in this. Part of him wants him to get angry, to get jealous, but Gabriel has never been like that.

Noah bites his lip, considering. “On my front.”

Gabriel wastes no time flipping them over, Noah face down in the pillows and held there by a strong hand while Gabriel rids him of his pants with his other.

He’s rough with him, impatient, Noah can’t blame him.

When Noah is bare, Gabriel drapes himself over him, supporting himself on an elbow by Noah’s head.

He presses a thick finger into him, all the way to the last knuckle in one go. He’s so wet it doesn’t meet much resistance.

“Ready?”

Noah growls, twisting his head in the pillows so he can scowl at Gabe over his shoulder. “Just get on with it.”

Gabriel grins. “Suit yourself. Close your eyes for me, just imagine your cowboy, I’ll be quiet for you.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Noah shuts his eyes. He lets himself just feel, tries to imagine Martin’s bedroom around him, the charming wooden walls and the old paintings. The plaid sheets and the cowhide rug.

When rough hands lift his hips up off the mattress and guides his knees further apart, it’s too easy to fall into the fantasy of Martin being the one behind him. It’s his hairy stomach against Noah’s ass. His work-hardened fingers running down his back. The rasp of his beard framing the kiss placed between his shoulder blades when he lines himself up and starts to push in.

Gabriel goes slow, gentle, just the way Noah imagines Martin would be. Except Gabe is big, the stretch more obvious than in Noah’s fantasies. By the time he bottoms out, Noah is sweating and clutching at the sheets with the effort it takes to not come on the spot.

He can’t hold back the moan that gets punched out of him when Gabriel forces his hips flush with his ass, hard.

Usually by now Gabriel would be talking to him, telling him he’s a doing well, how wet he is and how small he feels under him. But now Gabriel is silent. It should feel bad, but it just doesn’t, not when Noah is left wondering how big Martin is. If he’d fill him up this well, if he’d feel this good.

Gabriel doesn’t waste much time, it’s not like this is going to be the scene he’d had in mind for today, he doesn’t need to drag this out. He’s correctly assumed that all Noah is after right now is to come with Martin occupying every inch of his mind. He picks up the pace, leaving Noah to scramble to keep up.

The thing about having sex with the same person on the regular, is that you start to figure out how their bodies work and how best to hit their buttons. And Gabriel knows Noah better than anyone ever has.

He’s got Noah biting the pillow to keep himself from crying Martin’s name within minutes. Apparently Gabriel doesn’t like that. He digs his fingers into Noah’s jaw, forcing his mouth open. “Let me hear you, want to hear you scream his name when you finish.”

Noah is helpless to hold back after that.

After. Noah is laying draped over Gabriel’s chest, tracing patterns into the exposed patch of chest hair revealed by his open shirt. The fabric is soaked through with sweat and it sticks to Noah’s skin when he moves.

“Thanks for that.” Noah says, making Gabriel bark a laugh.

“No worries. I enjoyed that more than I thought I would.”

Noah hums. “didn’t get to do the scene you had in mind.”

He shrugs, jostling Noah. “I’ve got tomorrow off.”

They both know that the assumption Noah will stay that long is not a sure thing. Usually he’d be itching to go by now. He’s gotten what he wanted.

But Noah feels more off kilter than he’s used to. He’d come here with the intention of get Martin off his mind for a while, and instead he’s gotten the complete opposite.

Maybe staying and letting Gabriel take care of him for a bit longer wouldn’t be so bad.

[fidgetspringer-art]

Blessed with Witcher AU thoughts.

Cursed with grown up job.

[fidgetspringer-art]

_ Taste _

[fidgetspringer-art]

Only the most creative file names around here

[fidgetspringer-art]

The story behind how Noah's eyes ended up the way they are. A healthy dose of angst with plenty of hurt/comfort. Freaturing Gabriel being a fucking saint and Noah being an absolute asshat the whole time. (What else is new)

-

Noah can feel his teeth rattle in his skull as his head hits the concrete wall of the alley. His vision whites out for moment, just long enough to have him stumble, struggling to stay on his feet.

It doesn’t matter, he’s pushed back again, hard, and this time his knees buckle and he hits the ground, only barely managing to break his fall enough to keep his temple from connecting with the cobblestones.

Someone shouts something down at him, and then he’s kicked squarely in the ribs.

He goes down like a sack of flour and stays there, wheezing up at the night sky through lungs that ache in his chest.

It’s not raining, not quite, but there’s the barest drizzle, enough for him to feel the tiny drops hit his overheated skin.

His eyesight is getting blurry, his left eye just about swollen shut, and the stars all look like little starbursts, clusters of blurry sparkles in the black.

More shouting. Then someone is straddling him, pinning him to the ground. He doesn’t bother to fight them, his body wouldn’t cooperate if he tried.

The shape above him draws their fist back, ready to deliver another blow, and Noah blinks, focuses on the stars instead.

The man’s knuckles split the skin across his cheek when they strike. Noah thinks he blacks out for a few seconds, he’s not really sure, but the next thing he’s aware of is that someone is urging the man on top of him to knock it off.

The weight across his body shifts and disappears. The toe of a boot connects harshly with his side one more time, hard enough to make him curl in on him self, and then there are hurried footsteps leaving down the narrow lane of the alley.

Noah coughs and then chokes when the motion jostles something sharp and painful in his chest. Shit, that’s definitely a broken rib he’s feeling. He wants to gasp for air, desperate to fill his lungs, but every time he tries he’s punished with a new flood of agony that makes his head spin nauseatingly. He doesn’t dare think about how bad throwing up would hurt right now.

He manages to roll onto his back again, whining helplessly as the pain makes black dots dance in front of his eyes.

He might have bitten off more than he can chew with this one. The guy he’d chosen to pick a fight with was a big bear of a man, an angry one too, apparently. Most of the time he’ll get roughed up just right and then let off with a black eye and a split lip. People don’t usually want to actually cause someone else real harm, even if they’re asking for it.

It had become apparent pretty quickly however, that this guy had no such reservations. He’d seemed more than happy to beat Noah to a bloody pulp.

It doesn’t take long for him to start shivering. It’s cold down here on the ground, especially with the rain starting to pick up. It’s slowly soaking his shirt and sticking it to his skin.

He fumbles around in his pocket, finding his keys first, then finally, his phone. A glance at the time tells him it’s far too late to be calling, but he just wants to hear a friendly voice right now, just for a little bit.

It rings for what feels like ages before Gabriel picks up. “Noah? What’s wrong?” There’s immediate urgency in his voice. Like he already knows that something isn’t right. Noah can hear music in the background, like he’s stepped away from a party to answer the phone.

Noah would feel guilty if he was capable of such a thing.

“Nothin’s wrong.” He rasps, cringing at how wrecked his voice sounds. “What’r you up to?”

There’s a long pause. Just the white noise of too loud music in the background.

“Noah, where are you?”

His heart aches. Count on Gabriel to see right through him. He sighs. “Dunno.”

“Why did you call me, Noah?”

Noah bites his lip, tasting the iron there. “M’not sure. Just wanted to talk, I guess.”

“Noah, you never call me just to talk.” Gabriel sounds near frantic. “Tell me you’re in one piece.”

“D’you remember that one movie we watched that one time, the one with the alien?”

Gabriel is quiet. Then he says. “You mean Alien?”

“That’s the one.” Noah smiles. “I liked that one.”

“Noah.” Gabriel’s voice is sharp in a way it rarely is. He doesn’t get angry. Not really, any time he raises his voice at Noah it’s with a glint of humor in his eye, even if Noah is doing something monumentally stupid. He hasn’t heard him like this before. “Where. Are. You.”

He really doesn’t know. He’d been crashing on Gabriel’s couch for the last week. He’d left two days ago, intending to head back further east, he just hadn’t gotten quite that far yet.

He’d wanted to stay in the city to maybe earn himself some cash before he set off, but he hasn’t had much luck. He was just going to have a drink or two, see if he could scam some idiot at cards or something.

Instead he’d picked a fight for reasons beyond his own comprehension.

“I’m fine, Gabriel.” He wheezes. “Not far from your place I think, just getting a drink is all.”

He can hear Gabriel moving, like he’s walking, the music gets more distant, overpowered by the one pouring out of the bar he’s laying next to. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Noah shrugs to himself. He doesn’t say anything, just listens to the sound of Gabriel’s breathing on the other end of the line. He closes his eyes when the world swims unpleasantly, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat. Man, he’s about two minutes away from puking his guts up. That’s gonna suck.

“Talk to me.” Gabriel urges him. “Stay on the line.”

Noah huffs. “Wasn’t so eager to talk before.” He murmurs. His eyelids feel very heavy suddenly. He hasn’t slept in over twenty four hours. Couldn’t find anywhere to crash last night so he’d just stayed up, tried to get someone to take him home with them. But no luck.

“Well, I changed my mind.” He’s breathing heavier now, like he’s in a rush. “Don’t want you going quiet on me, okay?” He waits for Noah to hum an affirmative. “Tell me what you liked about the alien movie.”

Noah chuckles, immediately regrets it when his rib twinges sharply. He clenches his teeth to stifle the pained sound that pushes its way out of him.

“What was that, are you hurt?”

Noah waits for the pain to subside. “I’m fine.” He swallows heavily. “I liked the cat.”

“What?” Gabriel is panting now, it sounds like he’s close to running. “Oh, the movie. Yeah the cat is cute.” He swears under his breath. “Just tell he where you are. Please.”

Noah looks around. He can’t really see much from where he is. He’s getting really fucking cold. His hand trembles where he holds his phone to his ear. “I don’t know. Some alley somewhere.” He shifts, wincing. “There’s a bar.”

“I’m coming. Just hold on.”

Noah blinks back the wet that suddenly clouds his vision. “I’m not doing so well, I don’t think.” He admits, voice cracking. “I’m scared.”

“I know. It’s okay, I’ll find you, yeah? Just hang tight.” He can hear the sound of Gabriel’s boots on the asphalt as he runs. “You’re okay, I’ll find you. I’ll find you.”

Noah nods. Forgetting that Gabe can’t see him. “I really fucked up.”

“Fuck, Noah.” His voice is strained. “Please tell me you are where I think you are.”

Noah doesn’t know what to say to that. He blinks and feels his tears break away and run down his cheeks. He wonders what Martin would think if he saw him like this. If he’d look down at him with that disapproving frown, hip cocked and eyebrow raised. Or if he’d be worried too. Maybe he’d be upset, disappointed, ashamed.

Noah fights the urge to sob, knows it would only make things worse.

When Gabriel is quiet for a while, apart from the frantic pace of his breaths and the beat of his boots, Noah lets himself close his eyes again. Despite the cold and the pain and the little drops of rain pattering his face, it would be so easy to fall asleep like this. He’s so tired. His eyes feel dry despite the fact that they’re swimming in tears.

He doesn’t realize he’s dropped his phone until he listens for the sound of Gabriel’s breaths and can no longer hear them.

He doesn’t have the energy to pick the phone back up, so he just leaves it, it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s just going to take a quick nap, just enough to get some energy back. Maybe he can find somewhere to sleep for real later tonight.

He’s startled by the sharp echo of heavy footfalls rushing past the mouth of the alley, until they come to an abrupt halt and double back. He feels sick when it hits him that the steps are coming closer. Maybe that guy from earlier is back to finish the job. Or maybe he’s just about to get robbed by some other lowlife finding an easy victim. Not that he’s got much of value on him.

He jumps at the feeling of warm hands on his face.

“Shit, shit, shit.” A winded voice hisses. The hands cup his head, raising it up from the harsh texture of the cobble stones. “Fuck, you don’t look so good.”

Gabriel.

Noah forces his eyes open, well, one of them, the one that isn’t swollen shut.

Gabriel is kneeling above him, hands flitting over Noah’s face, assessing the damage. He has a wild look in his eye. Noah has never seen him this scared before. “Hey, stay awake for me, yeah?” He taps Noah on the cheek when he closes his eyes again. “Hey!”

Noah blinks. He winces and cries out when Gabriel tries to shift him onto his side, putting his weight onto his broken rib. “No, stop, please-” He chokes. The pain is enough to have his vision go dark for a second, threatening to black out. “Don’t-”

Gabriel seems to catch on. He pushes a hand up underneath the flap of Noah’s jacket and cups his ribs, pressing gently down on each one in turn until Noah yelps when he finds the broken one. “Fuck. You need the emergency room.”

Noah grabs his wrist and pries it away. “No way in hell.”

“Don’t be like that. You could have punctured something, this is serious, Noah.”

“Leave me alone Gabe, I’m fine.” he bats Gabriel’s hand away when it tries to check his skull for fractures. “I’ll be fine. Just go.”

“I’m not about to fucking leave you.” He looks around, as if to get help. Noah hopes to any god that will listen that he doesn’t get anyone else involved in this. “Can you stand?”

Noah grits his teeth and rolls, getting up on his hands and knees. He has to pause when the pain makes his vision swim dizzyingly, before he slowly pushes himself up and onto his feet. He never would have gotten himself standing without Gabriel there to help pull him up and support him.

His ribs twinge dangerously at the strain and Noah bites his tongue. He really is very close to throwing up.

“M’fine.”

“You’re not. This is bad, Noah, I don’t know if I can deal with this on my own.”

Noah wants to detach himself from Gabriel. Wants to push him away and shout at him to fuck off. But he knows he can’t stay upright by his own power.

He’s still fuming, though.

“Just find me somewhere to sleep it off. You don’t have to stick your nose in everything I do.”

Gabriel’s hand on his hip turns into an iron grip, hard enough that Noah flinches. “If you think I’m leaving you out here like this you’re a fucking moron.” He hoists Noah against himself, taking more of his weight. “Come on, the apartment isn’t far.”

Noah doesn’t remember most of their hobbling walk back home. But he does remember the relief of entering Gabriel’s warm apartment. That bone deep chill still clinging to him, but at least he’s out of the wind and rain.

Gabriel deposits him in his bed, gently helping him lay down so that he doesn’t strain himself too much. Noah reaches for the blankets, shivering, but Gabriel sees what he’s trying to do and softly takes his hand. “We gotta get you out of our clothes first, you’re soaked through.”

With his wet clothes in a pile on the floor, Gabriel finally pulls the blankets up and over him. He even brings another couple of blankets from the chest at the foot of his bed that he piles on top for good measure. Noah shivers, desperate to get warm, but his body temperature must be low enough that even with the blankets trapping all of his heat, it’s slow going.

“M’cold.”

Gabriel is squinting down at him, pulling and prodding on the skin near his eyebrow. “I know, I know, give it a second.” He tuts. “Nasty split, this one. Needs stitches.”

Noah swats at his hand. “S’fine.”

“Noah, it’s not fine!” Gabriel bellows.

Noah flinches. And that is enough to have Gabriel immediately soften. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, I just-”

Noah sighs. “I know.”

Gabriel leaves the room and comes back with a glass of water and a handful of pills. He helps Noah take them, and he makes him drink the whole glass, even if the cool water makes Noah feel even colder.

“Get in here.” Noah tugs on Gabriel’s jacket sleeve. He’s still wearing the same clothes. He must be cold and wet too.

Gabriel pries his fingers loose. “You’re covered in blood, I need to get you cleaned up before it gets infected.” He heads into the en-suite bathroom and Noah hears the faucet in the tub start up.

Gabriel rids himself of his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. “We’ll get you patched up in the bath, just stay warm while we wait for it to fill up, yeah?”

“C’mere, then.” Noah whines, and finally Gabriel relents with a roll of his eyes.

“Fine, but only for a few minutes, I gotta watch the bath.”

Gabriel’s body is like a damn furnace when he climbs under the blankets to fit himself against Noah’s side. He’s always ran hot, and Noah has always clung to him any time they’ve shared a bed. Greedily soaking up his warmth.

He can’t really move now, at least not to get on his side to get closer to Gabriel. But he lets him drape a strong arm over his chest and lean in, almost over top of him.

He sighs in contentment when that heat finally starts to leech into him. Thawing him out gradually.

Gabriel pets through his short hair while they lay there, just matching their breaths and sharing body heat. Noah waits for the inevitable moment when Gabriel will ask about what had gone down tonight. He knows it’s coming.

Thankfully he doesn’t ask now. He just lets Noah drift a little, worn down to the bone and soothed by the comfort of a familiar bed.

He flinches when Gabriel leans down to kiss him, startled by the unexpected motion. Gabe puts some space between them, just enough for Noah to catch on, letting him close the final distance himself.

Kissing Gabriel never stops feeling like coming home. It always settles something deep within him. Gabriel has always been a safe harbour. A sanctuary of familiarity that has been a constant in a life where nothing else ever is.

Kissing him chases away some of the pain for a moment, letting Noah focus on something else. All too soon he starts to push his luck, despite the agony in his chest. Trying to lure Gabriel into something more, but he’s not having it. He leans out of Noah’s space and pulls the blankets off of him.

He scoops Noah up into his arms as carefully as he can. Noah's ribs complain at being carried this way, but with a hefty dose of painkillers onboard it’s not too bad.

The bath is close to overflowing when Gabriel sets him down on the edge of the tub. He unplugs it for long enough to let the excess water drain, and then he’s helping Noah get in.

the water is almost too hot on Noah’s still chilled skin, but he gets used to it quickly, and soon he’s melting into it, letting it loosen up his tight and tense muscles.

Gabriel gets a first aid kit out from his bathroom cupboards while Noah gets settled, before he gets to work cleaning the blood off of his face with a washcloth.

It isn’t until Noah sees the water coming off himself run brown and then bright red that he realizes just how much blood he must have had on him.

Gabriel works silently, wiping the blood away and disinfecting the worst of the cuts, before he uses butterfly bandages to hold the split skin back together.

“You got a concussion?”

Noah nods. He’s had enough of them to know what it feels like by now. He’s definitely got one. Maybe the worst one he’s ever had.

Gabriel turns the flashlight on his phone on and tilts Noah’s face over with his fingers under his chin.

He shines the light in each eye in turn. Usually it’s a quick thing. Just checking whatever it is he checks when he does this, Noah doesn't know the reason. This time though, he takes longer, flicking the light back and forth, watching intently.

“Shit.” He hisses. “Put both your arms above your head for me.” Noah frowns. Annoyed. He’s about to refuse when Gabriel levels him with a hard stare. “Just do it.”

Noah listens. He winces when the motion jostles his ribs, but Gabriel seems satisfied, though still deeply concerned. “I think this might be a little worse than a concussion.”

“Why do you say that?”

Instead of telling him, Gabriel grabs the small mirror off the edge of the sink and hands it to him. “Watch your pupils.”

Noah watches as Gabriel brings the sharp glare of the flashlight up to his left eye. The pupil contracts down to a pinprick in response to the light.

He moves the light and repeats the same motion with the other eye.

The pupil doesn’t change.

Gabriel does it again. Taking the light away and then bringing it back. The sharp glare hurts, but his pupil stays the same, large and black.

Now that he’s looking, he realizes there’s a visible difference between them, even when the light isn’t directly in them. His left eye is normal, pupil and iris taking up about the same amount of space.

His right eye is so blown it looks almost entirely black. Only a narrow line of blue framing it.

He looks up at Gabriel. Sees the deep grooves of concern lining his face. “What does that mean?”

Gabriel puts the mirror back on the edge of the sink. “Nothing good. I think you have a brain injury, like a real one.” He chews his lip anxiously. “You should be in the ER, we don’t know how bad it is.” He stands, starts putting the first aid kit away. “Get washed up. I’ll find you some clean clothes to wear.”

Noah grabs the back of his shirt to stop him from leaving the room. “I’m not going to the ER, you can’t make me.”

They both know that’s a lie. But they also both know that trying to make Noah do something he doesn’t want to never ends well for anyone involved.

“You could be dying, Luce!” he’s raising his voice again. Clearly at the end of his rope. Noah hates seeing him like this. Wishes he hadn’t fucked things up so badly.

“I’m not.” He says, with all the confidence he doesn’t have. “I’m not dying, Gabe.”

They’re both idiots for letting Noah decide his own fate, but blessedly, Gabriel doesn’t push any more after that.

He gets Noah dried off and dressed in a pair of his own too large boxers and a shirt that hangs off of him like a dress.

Noah still isn’t nearly steady on his feet, so Gabriel helps him back to bed and tucks him in. “If you die in my bed I swear to god-”

Noah just hauls him down after him, arranging them so that he can rest his head on Gabriel’s chest without it putting pressure on his broken rib. “Go to sleep, Gabe.”

Gabriel grumbles some choice words under his breath, but eventually he shifts just enough to turn the light off, plunging the room into the darkness Noah’s eyes have been craving.

Gabriel wakes him several times throughout the rest of the night and the early morning, checking that he’s still breathing, and asking him a few questions that take Noah a little too long to wrap his head around. He wakes up by himself a few times too, flinching at an imagined fist flying towards him, jerking away from an impact that doesn’t come.

Gabe wraps his arms around him a little tighter every time it happens, and the slight pressure helps Noah ground himself enough to slip back off to sleep.

They sleep in until almost noon.

Noah feels it when Gabriel untangles their entwined limbs and heads off into the apartment. It doesn’t take long for the scent of bacon and eggs frying to reach him, but instead of the smell making his stomach rumble, it makes it turn over sickeningly and before he knows it, he’s throwing his head over the edge of the mattress and emptying his stomach.

Thank fuck for Gabriel’s foresight.

There’s a plastic bucket waiting for him on the floor and he manages to get most of his mess into it.

Gabriel comes rushing into the room at the sound of his heaving. He rubs the back of Noah’s neck while he hacks and coughs. Murmuring soothing words that Noah can’t quite make out.

“Better?” he asks when Noah finally stops vomiting and rests back against the pillows with a grimace. His ribs are fucking killing him.

“No.” He croaks, and he’s not lying. He still feels nauseous, like he’s one wrong move away from hurling again, but he manages to hold it in.

Gabriel wordlessly goes to empty and wash out the bucket. He replaces it by the side of the bed before he goes back into the kitchen to fetch a glass of some kind of fruit juice Noah can't identify. Not that it matters, it washes away the foul taste in his mouth just fine.

“Think you can eat something?”

Noah makes a face at the thought of choking down bacon and eggs right now, and Gabriel seems to have come to the same conclusion. He pats Noah on the thigh. “I’ll cut you up some fruit.”

They eat in bed together. Gabriel with his plate loaded up with meat and eggs and toast. He’s a big guy, and he’s good about eating enough, unlike Noah. Their portion sizes when Gabriel loads their plates up is always a comical sight, even if they’re eating exactly the same thing.

This time Noah’s plate has a handful of strawberries, a thick slice of honeydew melon and half an orange cut into wedges.

It’s surprisingly easy to get it all down.

“How do you feel?” Gabriel asks, he’s barely looked at his own food while he eats. He keeps glancing up at Noah, as if trying to catch something he’s missed.

“Like shit.” Noah says, chewing a strawberry. “Is my eye still doing the… thing?” he gestures vaguely to his own face.

“Yeah. It is.” Gabe doesn’t sound happy about it. Maybe that’s what he keeps looking at. Is it that obvious?

Noah’s left eye is still swollen pretty badly. He can barely see out of it. Maybe Gabriel has something he can ice it with.

“You sure you don’t want to go to the ER?”

Noah snorts. “Survived the night, didn’t I?”

Gabriel just sighs. Bone deep and exhausted. He looks it too, big dark bags under his eyes that Noah is sure matches his own. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

And there it is. He knew it was coming, sooner or later. “Picked a fight and got my ass kicked. What more is there to say.”

“Why’d you pick a fight?”

Noah just shrugs. When Gabriel keeps staring, he says. “I dunno, alright? I just did.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, you know that right?” He’s angry. Just barely keeping it behind bars. “One day you’ll get hit just a little too hard and you won’t be getting back up. What if that had been yesterday? What if I’d ran down there to find you already dead? Do you ever think about what that would do to me, or are you too fucking selfish to have ever considered it?”

Noah cringes at Gabriel’s tone. He’s used to being scolded by him, but this is different, there’s a raw honesty to him, an open fear that Noah hasn’t seen before. He doesn’t like seeing it now.

“I’ll just make sure I bite it somewhere you won’t find me, then.”

Gabriel’s jaw clenches. “Noah I swear to god-” He closes his eyes and takes a breath, before he grabs their plates and carries them off into the kitchen. Noah knows he’s being a dick. But then again, when is he not.

He takes the pills Gabe laid out for him and gets settled back under the covers. He’s still bone tired, and it doesn’t take long before he feels himself drifting off again.

[fidgetspringer-art]

In an old farmhouse somewhere...

[fidgetspringer-art]

I wonder who he's thinking about? ;) Full can be found here

[fidgetspringer-art]

Remembering why I put this Gabriel piece away the first time. He's covered in tattoos... And I have to design them all.

I do not want to do that.

[fidgetspringer-art]

That mini series was absolutely LOVELY I never would've guessed Gabriel was such a softie outside of a dynamic, but I love that! Where does Noah get the nickname Luce? Is it just something that Gabe calls him, or does Martin ever use it too? Thank you for your wonderful writing and art!!!!!

Thank you so much for reading!! 😭

Yeah Gabe is a massive sweetheart, at least when he's not got Noah breathing down his neck, coaxing out the sadist in him HAH.

The nickname comes from the group Gabriel and Noah ran with as teenagers. They all had nicknames based on fallen angels. And Noah's was Lucifer. He's still got 'Morningstar' on the back of his jacket as a reference to it. With the fallen angels featured underneath!

That's where 'Luce' comes from. No one else is allowed to use it now. Noah would break their nose if they did. And I don't think Martin even knows about it, or at least would never think to use it if he did :')

[fidgetspringer-art]

Third and final part in this little series! Smut pretty much immediately, so if that's not your thing, you can skip this one.

-

Gabriel is almost startled when he’s reeled into a tight hug. Martin warm against his wind-chilled body. Still cold from the walk over here. Martin chases that chill away easily. He takes a breath. “Told ya he’d come back to us.”

“I almost can’t believe it.” Gabriel sags against him. Careful not to put too much of his weight on Martin’s sore body, but chasing the urge to leave as little space between them as possible, letting it ground him. He might be overstepping here. Just a little. But Martin doesn’t complain, just holds on to him tighter. “You never doubted him, did you?”

Martin hums. A pleasant rumble against Gabriel’s chest. “I did, a couple’a times.” He’s surprised to hear it. He hadn’t let it show. “I’ve always known him to be impatient. Wasn’t like him to be taking so long.”

Gabriel nods. The tip of his nose brushing against Martin’s neck. He’s right. That’s part of what had been eating at him as well. Noah laying still like that for so long. Noah is never still. Always moving, always talking, always doing something with his hands. Ever the restless soul.

“You’re a good man, Martin. I don’t think I could have done this without you.” The depth of the gratitude Gabriel feels is impossible to put into words, but he has to try.

Martin pats him on the back and straightens up, just enough for their eyes to meet. “You could. You’d do anything for that fool.”

“Same as you.”

Martin smiles and Gabriel is once again overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. He’s never met anyone quite like Martin Hart. Never met anyone who seems to radiate kindness the way he does. Standing next to him is like standing next to a wood stove on a cold evening. Just being near him soothes Gabriel like no one else ever has.

The cowboy’s smile tilts up a little more on one side, like he’s caught the way Gabriel is staring at his mouth. He’s not exactly being subtle, to be fair. Head too full of restless giddiness to care. Martin flattens his palm against Gabriel’s chest, over his heart. “You gonna kiss me, or what, big guy?”

Gabriel doesn’t have to be asked twice.

The rough rasp of Martin’s beard against his own makes something hot and desperate take light in Gabriel’s blood. Winding his fingers into the hair at the back of his neck elicits exactly the response he’d been hoping for. Martin gasps into his mouth, visibly biting back a groan when Gabriel takes charge.

He’s curious to learn what makes this man tick. He wants to know exactly how he likes it. Does he prefer rough and assertive, the way Noah does? Or does he enjoy something softer? Gabriel spares a thought to the fact that Martin might not like Gabriel taking the reins like this, but one look at his blown eyes and slack mouth is enough to have him brush that thought aside.

He uses his grasp to tilt Martin’s head back, baring the column of his throat. He doesn’t fight it. Just goes along so sweetly. Letting Gabriel decide for them both how this is going to happen.

For a second the intense urge to leave a mark against the side of Martin’s throat takes hold of him, it would look so nice there, peeking out over the collar of his shirt. Deep and dark on lightly sunburned skin. He imagines Martin reaching up to touch it while he’s out working. Idly rubbing sweat of his neck and feeling the sting. Remembering.

He shakes himself free of the thought. They don’t know each other well enough for that. Marks are off the table, for now, but there are still plenty of other options left open to him, with the way this evening is going.

This Gabriel is good at. This is something he can do. Something that makes him feel settled into his own skin. In control once more, both of himself and the man in front of him. He feels at home with someone under his hands, giving themselves over and trusting him enough to let him do as he pleases.

The knowledge that Martin usually takes on this same role with Noah makes Gabriel a little dizzy. He looks so natural like this, pliant and easy. Gabriel has a hard time imagining him being the one in control. Yet he knows that’s how it usually goes with them.

“You alright with this?” He has to make sure. Suddenly scared to overstep. He gently shifts his thigh to slot it between Martin’s. Not pressing but almost. An invitation.

Martin’s hips buck up to meet him. He sucks in a breath and fists his hands into Gabriel’s shirt, like he needs an anchor. “Shit- yeah. Go on.”

Gabriel gets to work tugging Martin’s shirt free from his pants. He keeps half an eye on him, watching his expression carefully. There’s a lot going on there. Tiny shifts that betray the chaos of thoughts filling his head right now. There’s a slight tension to him that makes Gabriel want to tread carefully. It’s not anxiety, not quite. But Gabriel gets the feeling it’s been a while since Martin has been with someone besides Noah. It’s like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, or where to put his hands.

When Gabriel gets his hands up underneath his shirt to touch him without a barrier, Martin sighs. It comes out a little shaky. The muscles on his stomach jump under Gabriel’s touch. He’s so warm, and soft. The sharp angles of his bones are gentled by a layer of fat. He feels good like this. Gabriel wants to spend all night just touching him, trying to find all the ways to make his muscles twitch and tense against his fingers.

However, the way that Martin is shifting his weight from foot to foot tells him it’s time to take this somewhere else. “Sit down.”

If this had been Noah, Gabriel would have pushed him back, made him stumble and fall onto the bed, spread out and looking up at him with those mismatched eyes full of heat. But something tells him to go easy on Martin. And with the way he winces ever so slightly when Gabriel guides him down to sit on the mattress, he’s glad he did. He’s tempted to check in. To see if they need to cut this short, but he holds back. Martin is a grown man. He knows his own body better than Gabriel does. If he’s not asking to stop, Gabriel won’t nag.

He sinks down onto the bed next to him, pushing him down to lay flat, legs still hanging over the edge. Gabriel leans over him, bending down to kiss him again. Martin’s restless hands find their way to his hips, then slowly, tentatively, he sneaks his fingers up and underneath Gabriel’s shirt, rucking it up his sides. It’s like he’s worried he’ll get told off. And maybe if this was Noah, he would have. But Gabriel doesn’t want that right now. They both need something easy, uncomplicated. If Martin wants to touch, he can touch to his heart’s content. It feels too good to put a stop to anyway. His calloused hands are pleasantly rough on Gabriel’s skin. Hardened from years of working outside.

Testing the waters, Gabriel slots his knee between Martin’s legs and pushes up, giving him a little bit of pressure to watch his reaction. When Martin responds by tugging him closer, asking for more. Gabriel grinds his thigh down against him, a little harder than he’d intended, forgetting for a moment that this isn’t Noah he’s dealing with.

Before he can correct his mistake though, Martin’s head falls back, throat bared. He bites his lip to keep himself quiet, and Gabriel darts down to coax it free with his own, and the next time he gives Martin some much needed friction, he’s too busy being kissed senseless to stop the noise he makes. He moans into Gabriel’s mouth instead, and the sound goes straight to Gabriel’s cock where it’s still trapped and aching against the fabric of his jeans.

“Want to get these off?” Gabriel reaches down to tug at his belt buckle. It’s more so a way to give him an out than anything else. They can stop this right here, without taking things any further, but they’ll be crossing another line if the clothes come off.

Martin bites his lip again, leaning back on his elbows, eyes fixed on Gabriel’s hand so close to where he wants it.

There’s something in his expression now though, something that wasn’t there before. It’s that anxiety that Gabriel had been watching for. Finally coming to the surface. He doesn’t get the chance to check in before Martin is talking.

���I uh. I might not get hard, all the way. I can’t always-” He trails off, clearly embarrassed.

Oh. Gabriel hadn’t even really noticed, but now that he’s mentioned it, there hadn’t been that much of a hardness against Gabriel’s thigh. Even though Martin had clearly been having a good time. “You still doing alright?”

He nods quickly. “I am just- sorry to disappoint.”

“Can I suck you off?”

Martin startles at the sudden change of subject. Solidly caught off guard. He blinks, cheeks steadily growing redder and redder. His pupils are so blown they remind Gabriel of Noah’s bad eye. Swallowed up by blackness.

“Can I?” He pointedly tugs at Martin’s belt buckle again. Feeling an edge of desperation in himself.

It’s a relief when Martin just nods at him, numbly, mouth a little slack. He looks like he’s going to go off like a shot the moment Gabriel puts his mouth on him. And that’s not a bad thought at all.

Gabriel slides off the bed and onto the floor. Wedging his wide body between Martin’s knees, forcing them further apart. Martin is still watching him through eyes half shut, leaning back, letting Gabriel do whatever he wants to him. He palms him through his jeans first, and Martin’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, visibly straining to keep his hips from bucking up into the touch.

He’s panting by the time Gabriel brackets his hips with his arms and bends to lick at the fabric of his fly. He feels Martin’s cock twitch under his tongue. So not entirely uninterested in the proceedings then.

Martin’s belt comes undone easily, buckle falling away and giving Gabriel access to the button and zipper. They work together to get the jeans down around Martin’s hips, revealing lightly tented white boxers, with a telling wet patch at the front, slowly growing larger.

When Gabriel shamelessly puts his tongue to that spot, Martin’s breath leaves him like he’s been punched in the stomach. There’s a hand in Gabriel’s hair suddenly, both pulling him away and pushing him down. Undecided and overwhelmed.

“M’not gonna last long.” Martin croaks out, apologetic.

Gabriel ignores him. Putting his mind back to tasting him, making Martin lose his tight control over himself, slowly but surely, until he’s flat on his back, heaving for breath like Gabriel is doing way more to him than he is.

True to his word, when Gabriel works the waistband of his boxers down below his balls, Martin isn’t close to fully hard. Though getting his mouth involved does seem to have helped a fair bit. If not for his cock, then definitely for the rest of him. “You’re shaking.” Martin’s thighs are trembling where he’s leaning over him. His breath shudders and catches every time Gabriel touches him.

“Sorry. M’so close.”

“Need a moment?”

Martin wheezes out a chuckle. “If you keep this up I think my heart’ll give out.” He takes a breath. “Don’t stop though. Just-” He flaps his hand vaguely, before it falls limp to the mattress.

Gabriel understands well enough. He places a kiss to the crease of Martin’s hip. Watching him fill his lungs with air, breaths evening out bit by bit. His hand comes down to circle Gabriel’s wrist where he’s pinning his hips to the bed. A tingling point of connection that feels miles more intimate than putting his mouth on his cock.

Which is something Gabriel can’t wait to do. If Martin will let him, that is.

He gets impatient after a while. His own need itching beneath his skin. He’s got no way to relieve the pressure like this, not without taking his hands off of Martin, and right now that feels like the worst sin imaginable.

It’s not before Martin starts to shift, just a little, getting fidgety. It’s enough for Gabriel to notice. The way his fingers start idly toying with the sheets, or the subtle biting of his lower lip that he seems to catch himself doing, stopping for a moment, and then starting up again, like he can’t help himself.

Gabriel licks a stripe up along the inner angle of his hip and it makes the muscles there jump so hard Martin lets out a choked off sound above him.

“Ready?” He mumbles, just to make sure, and Martin nods, eyes pitch black.

He’s a pleasant mouthful, when Gabriel finally gets his mouth on him. With him half soft like this he doesn’t have to worry about Martin accidentally choking him, which is a good thing, because the moment he closes his lips around him, Martin’s hips fly off the mattress before Gabriel gets a chance to hold him down.

Gabriel finally gets to hear the moan he’s been chasing all night then, when he forces Martin back down against the bed, plenty strong enough to keep him still. Unable to move when he ducks his head until his nose is buried in coarse hair.

Martin’s hands are both on the back of his head now, grasping desperately, but this time there’s not even the suggestion of wanting to push him off. If anything, Martin is fighting against the urge to keep Gabriel there, to hold him in place.

Gabriel is not at all opposed to the idea. He shifts his hands where they’re closed around Martin’s hips and urges him up, encouraging him to move now that he’s got better control of himself again. Martin picks up on what he’s asking for remarkably quickly for someone so far gone Gabriel isn’t sure he could string together a full sentence right now.

He starts off gentle. Soft and careful the way he is about all things. But when Gabriel moans around him and urges him on, he allows himself to let go a bit more, until he’s properly fucking into Gabriel’s mouth, just the way he likes.

Gabriel has never sucked someone off who wasn’t rock hard for most of it. But he can’t say he’s minding the experience. It’s strangely pleasant, to not have to watch his gag reflex, or to worry about having a sore throat in the morning.

He can taste more so than feel it when Martin is getting close. This time he’s not letting him catch his breath. He sucks harder, bobs his head a little to match Martin’s thrusts, and when Martin’s fingers dig into his scalp and then pulls, hard, he doesn’t allow him to pull him off of him, not until he’s spilling over his tongue with a hoarse cry that might actually have been loud enough to wake the neighbors.

Gabriel gently works him through it, until Martin makes it clear it’s getting too much. He peppers kisses against his hip while Martin comes back down with deep, shuddering breaths.

Only when Martin seems settled, does Gabriel take his hand off him to desperately pull his own cock out of his jeans. His knees ache from kneeling for so long, but he can’t wait. One stroke is all it takes to have him right on the knife’s edge.

He buries his face into the crease of Martin’s inner thigh and lets himself get lost in the scent of him, with his taste still lingering in his mouth.

“Shit, here.” Martin murmurs, he’s sitting up, and at first Gabriel want’s to complain, but then there’s the hard edge of the toe of his boot inching it’s way up his inseam, until the sole is right there. Gabriel grabs his sturdy ankle and brings it the rest of the way up. The worn down pattern of his sole is harsh and unforgiving against the tender flesh of his cock, but it’s perfect. Just the right side of too much to have him shooting off so abruptly he doesn’t have the time or presence of mind to make sure he doesn’t get any on the leather.

Martin doesn’t seem to mind. He’s staring down at him in awe. Like he’s just witnessed something incredible. Gabriel can only knock his foreheadhead against a bony knee and try to calm his breathing. He hasn’t come this hard in months. He’s not sure where that came from. The novelty of a new partner, maybe.

“You alright?” Martin is petting through his sweaty hair, a little more composed now than he had been. He still looks fucked out beyond belief. It’s a good look on him. Shirt open, chest hair on display. His hair is a mess too, just from the sheets. Gabriel has only ever seen him properly put together. Even after the rough week they’ve had. Martin has made sure to look presentable, tidy.

Gabriel huffs, leaning in a bit to pillow his cheek on Martin’s leg. He’s going to sleep so fucking well tonight, he can already tell. “I’m good. You?”

Martin smiles, soft and indulgent. “Sore. Might have overdone it a tad.” he doesn’t look even remotely upset by this fact. “Well worth, though.”

It’s high praise, Gabriel thinks, from a man like Martin, who’s so sparse with his words. He looks down, takes in the state of himself, and at the same time, Martin’s boot, where it’s still resting between his legs, covered in cum. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Martin tips the toe of his boot up, inspecting the damage. He shrugs. “Not the first time it’s happened.” Ah. Noah’s unrepentant boot kink. Gabriel should have known it would extend to cowboy boots as well as combat boots. Figures they would have already gone down this route. The mental image of Noah on his knees with Martin’s boot-clad foot between his legs is an appealing one. He almost wishes he could see it for himself.

“Up, big guy. Your knees gotta be sore by now.” Martin stands to help haul him to his feet. He tucks Gabriel back into his boxers without a word, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Gabriel short circuits for a brief moment at the feeling of those calloused hands on his dick.

They take turns in the shower. Martin first on Gabriel’s insistence. He figures the sooner they get him laying down and relaxing, the better he’ll feel in the morning. Gabriel also makes sure he takes one of the painkillers he seems so reluctant to use, before he finally lets himself get into the shower.

When he comes back out, Martin is already asleep. He looks over his shoulder blearily when Gabriel tucks himself up against his back and pulls the covers up over them.

Both of them get the best night’s sleep they’ve had in days.

“You’re not the police.” Is the first thing out of Noah’s mouth when they walk in the next morning. Gabriel and Martin exchange bemused glances. Neither of them expecting this to be the greeting they’d get.

“The police been here?” Martin asks, draping his jacket over the back of a chair. It’s not surprising if they have been. Now that Noah is awake they’ll want to get a statement from his as soon as possible. Gabriel just wishes they would have come while he and Martin had been here. He can’t imagine Noah made doing their job easy for them.

Noah squints, blinking. “Oh. Yeah, they were here just now.”

The nurse walking past the still open door pokes her head in. It’s one of Noah’s regular ones, Ann or something like that, Gabriel isn’t sure. She gives them a wave hello. “The police were here two hours ago. He’s been a little stuck on it since they left.”

“Thanks.” Gabriel gives her a smile. She vanishes down the hall, off to tend to someone else no doubt. He slumps down into the chair beside Martin’s. “What did you tell them?”

Noah’s eyes narrow even further. “Told ‘em to fuck off.”

Martin scrubs a hand down his face. Gabriel would have done the same if he hadn’t been expecting Noah to say exactly that. “You didn’t tell them what happened?”

“Nope.” And he doesn’t look even the slightest bit remorseful. “They already knew I got my ass kicked, wasn’t about to cry about it.”

“How about giving them a description of the guys that did this to you? Or would that be snitching or some shit by your logic?” Gabriel hates the way he’s letting his frustration show.

True to form, Noah’s hackles go up. “I don’t fucking remember, alright!” He spits. “I have no idea what happened to me. I don’t know where I was, or who I was with. I don’t even remember where I parked the fucking bike that day!”

It’s only because Gabriel has known him for long enough that he recognizes the hurt and fear hiding under the jagged edges of Noah’s anger. He’s wielding it not like a weapon but like a shield. Protecting the soft vulnerable parts of him that are so fucking scared.

Martin must have seen it too. He gives Gabriel a sideways look that makes him feel strangely chastised, before he pats Noah’s leg over the blankets. “Easy, Dove. He’s just trying to help.”

Noah looks like he wants to snap at him, but he doesn’t. Just wrinkles his nose and stares out the window by his bed.

“My head’s still all messed up.” He admits after a while. “I don’t like it.”

“It’ll pass.” Martin says, calm as ever. Not a shred of doubt in his voice. “You just gotta heal up still.”

While Noah has his moments of confusion and forgetfulness throughout the day, it’s not quite as bad as it had been the first day. The nausea is the worst part. The nurses come by with meals that they encourage Martin and Gabriel to make sure Noah eats. And he tries, he really does, It’s just that they don’t seem all too willing to stay down.

As the hours pass, Noah’s energy drains slowly. Throwing up really takes it out of him, and so does each of his ‘episodes.’ He’s uncharacteristically quiet. Just replying with the occasional hum or nod when someone tries to include him in the conversation. Gabriel hates seeing him like this. So flat and far too silent. He should be hissing and spitting and trying to get out of there as soon as possible. He doesn’t even ask about Tansy after that one time he mentions her in passing.

It’s all wrong.

When Gabriel and Martin are getting ready to head off for the night. Noah’s nurse comes by again to let them know that he’ll be discharged tomorrow, around noon. And suddenly the question of “What do we do now?” Is looming over them.

It’s not like Noah can get back on the road yet. His arm is broken, along with his collar bone. The former in a cast, and staying that way for another few weeks. His concussion is still hard on him too, and he has trouble sitting up for too long at a time, so spending six hours in Martin’s truck wouldn’t be ideal.

Martin seems to have come to the came conclusion by the time they’re making their way back to the hotel. “He should go back with you.” He says, apropos nothing. It’s early evening still, sun an hour or so away from truly setting. It’s chilly out, like it has been all week, but it’s not too bad tonight, no wind to push through the layers of their clothes.

“Probably the best option, yeah.”

“Once he’s feeling better I can come pick him up, if he’d like. Change of scenery.”

Gabriel nods. Noah is going to want that. He’s going to be climbing the walls of Gabriel’s apartment. He wasn’t made to sit still in small spaces for long. Gabriel should feel guilty for the fact that he’s sort of glad to have a reason to make Noah stay put for a while. There will be no rushing off this time. No sneaking out in the early hours of the morning. Waking Gabriel up with the rumble of his engine as he leaves without a ‘thank you’ or a ‘goodbye.’

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

They end up with Noah in Gabriel’s car and Tansy in Martin’s.

There’s no easy way for Gabriel to bring her back with them, and he doesn’t have anywhere to keep her safe for the next few weeks either. So they decide to let Martin take her. It’s not like Noah will be needing her anyway.

Gabriel takes Noah’s backpack and his saddle bags off the frame. He chucks them in the back of his car. Noah is already in the front seat, buckled in to the best of their ability without agitating his fractures. Gabriel steps away a little, Martin instinctively going with him.

Gabriel holds his hand out. “Thank you, for everything.”

Martin smiles and takes it, shakes it firmly. “You too, Gabriel. It’s been good getting to know you.”

The temptation to kiss him again, one last time, is hard to ignore, but Gabriel shuts it down. It’s over now. It was only ever going to be a one time thing, the two of them. Just some mutual stress relief. A way to find some comfort during a difficult time. That’s all it was. He’s grateful all the same.

“You’re not at all what I expected, Martin Hart.”

Martin gives him a kind smile. “Hope I didn’t disappoint.”

Gabriel wishes he could voice just how much he did not, but he doesn’t know how to even begin to put that into words. He doesn’t have to try, though. Martin pulls a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and holds it out to him. It’s folded in half, torn off of a larger sheet judging by the frayed edges.

“My address.” He looks a little embarrassed. “If you’re ever over my way-”

Gabriel grins at him. “I’ll stop by. Come see those chickens of yours.”

“Any time. Door’s always open.”

When Gabriel gets into his car, he sits and watches Martin walk over to his truck through his side mirror. He waits until Martin has turned out of the parking lot and disappeared down the street before he twists the key in the ignition and forces his mind back on task.

Noah is watching him, quiet and contemplative in a way that Noah never is. It doesn’t last long though. “So. What do you think?” There are teeth audible in his voice. Cheeky fucker.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “About what?” He knows full well what. But he’s not about to give Noah this one. Head injury or not.

“The cowboy, idiot.”

“He’s alright.” Gabriel can’t bring himself to say anything but the truth. “He’s a good man. Better than either of us, that’s for sure.”

Noah snorts. “Did you fuck?”

Gabriel almost swerves off the road. He turns to scowl at him, finding only sharp eyes and an even sharper smile. “Shut up, Noah.” He shifts under that pointed gaze. “We didn’t fuck.”

“You gonna sit there and lie to me now? I’m concussed, not stupid.”

“You can be both.” Noah just flips him off with his good hand. Or should he say, his better hand. “And fine. We didn’t fuck, but we didn’t not fuck, either.” He glances over. “That an issue?”

“Damn it! I was so sure you’d just fuck. Did you treat him all gentle like or what?”

Gabriel would slap his shoulder if he wasn’t more bruises than not. “Not everyone is as much of a masochist as you are, Luce.” Not that he’s ever been one to complain about that. “It was nice. Easy.”

Noah’s smile turns a little softer. “I’m glad.” He yawns, wincing when he goes to stretch as he does so. Being rudely reminded that he’s broken in more places than one. “M’gonna have a nap.” He murmurs, voice suddenly heavy with sleep. The next time Gabriel looks over, not even a minute later, he’s out like a light.

[fidgetspringer-art]

Cranked out a good start to the final part of that little hospital saga before I left for work.

Telling creators you enjoy what they make really works if you want to see more of it! Couldn't even wait until I got home to start writing, I was so motivated I just had to get it down before I headed out <3

[fidgetspringer-art]

please do keep sharing your oc stories and lore, I've really enjoyed reading about them!! it's been my guilty pleasure reading my way through the things you've posted so far whenever I have a lull at work this week lol. I especially liked the two recent ones, seeing martin and gabriel's interactions and how they bonded over their shared love for/care of noah (and if you ever do get around to polishing up the final part of that story you mentioned, I'd be very keen to find out what happens next 👀)

Thank you so much!!

I really, genuinely appreciate the positive feedback on my writing. It's good to know that people actually do want to read my mad ramblings about the silly little men who live in my brain, and that you aren't all just humoring me to be nice :')

Maybe i'll be a brave boy and see about finishing the rest of this specific story. Saucy section included c:

[fidgetspringer-art]

Trying to actually finish something with Gabriel in it. Since he's featured in my writing so much lately.