Espresso in The Rain

Noah had never been a fan of crowded places, but somehow, sitting next to Elias with the Bangkok skyline stretching behind them, he didn't mind as much. The rooftop bar was alive with the hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and soft music that filled the gaps between words. It should have been overwhelming, but with Elias sitting so close—his warmth a steady presence against the night—Noah found it almost comforting.

Almost.

Because the real problem wasn't the crowd. It was the way Elias looked at him.

Dark eyes, slow and unreadable, tracing the curve of his jaw, the exposed skin of his collarbone where his shirt hung loose. It was subtle—so subtle Noah might've missed it if he hadn't already memorized the weight of Elias' gaze.

It wasn't the first time he'd caught him staring.

But it was the first time Elias didn't bother looking away.

Santa, across the table, was too busy teasing Perth to notice, but Noah wasn't so lucky. He could feel Elias watching him, like a steady pull, like something he wasn't ready to name.

Noah set his drink down, gripping the stem of his glass tighter than necessary. "What?"

Elias smirked, amused by how defensive he sounded. "Nothing."

Noah narrowed his eyes. "You're staring."

Elias leaned in slightly, voice low enough that it barely reached past the noise of the bar. "So are you."

Noah scoffed. "I am not—"

Elias tilted his head. "Liar."

The word sent a slow shiver down Noah's spine, but before he could retaliate, Santa's voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Alright, lovebirds, if you're done eye-fucking each other, I'd like to place a bet."

Noah choked. "We are not—"

Santa waved him off. "No need to be shy, babe. It's cute."

Elias chuckled, not even bothering to deny it.

Perth sighed, already done with all of them. "What are you betting on this time?"

Santa grinned. "How long before Noah finally caves and admits he's completely obsessed with Elias?"

Noah groaned. "I hate you."

Santa smirked. "That's what they all say."

Noah made a mental note to block Santa's number.

—

Later that night, when the bar had emptied out and the neon lights outside had softened into something almost dreamlike, Noah found himself pressed against the door of Elias' apartment.

They hadn't even made it inside.

Elias' hands were on his waist, fingers digging in just enough to make Noah dizzy. His breath was warm against Noah's jaw as he murmured, "You sure you want this?"

Noah let out a shaky breath. "You know I do."

Elias' lips curled against his skin. "Say it."

Noah swallowed hard, heart hammering in his chest. "I want you."

Elias didn't make him wait.

The kiss was slow, deep—like Elias had all the time in the world to take him apart piece by piece. His hands slid under Noah's shirt, fingers tracing the dips of his spine, and Noah shivered, arching into the touch like he needed it.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he had for a while now.

They stumbled inside, half-drunk on each other, the door clicking shut behind them. The apartment was dimly lit, but it didn't matter. Noah barely had time to register anything before Elias was pushing him up against the nearest wall, lips trailing down his neck, slow and deliberate.

Noah's breath hitched. "Elias—"

Elias hummed against his skin. "I like how you say my name."

Noah's fingers curled into Elias' shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.

He had a feeling this was only the beginning.