CHAPTER 2: PREDATORS

Nathan glanced at his wristwatch for what felt like the hundredth time, the thin hands ticking past 5:15. School had ended at 2:00 PM, but here he was, still trapped in Noah’s private quarters, waiting like some obedient pet for Noah to finish his stupid soccer practice so he could hand over the assignment.

An assignment Nathan had actually completed himself, word for word, only for Noah to claim the credit in class tomorrow as if it were his own brilliant work. The thought burned low in his chest, but he swallowed it down—he had no choice.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out the small hand towel he always carried, carefully dabbing at the clotted blood still crusted under his nose from earlier. He didn’t dare use the water in Noah’s private bathroom; if Noah found out he’d even stepped foot in there without permission, the consequences would be worse than a bloody nose. He groaned softly, the sound escaping before he could stop it, and dragged his tired, aching legs until he was standing again. Every muscle protested, but he shuffled toward the door, needing to peek outside, needing to know how much longer this nightmare would drag on.

He had a part-time job waiting—stocking shelves at the small convenience store near the bus stop, and every minute he stayed here meant less money, meant risking getting fired for being late again. Noah knew that. Noah always knew exactly where to press to make him hurt the most.

Just as his fingers brushed the doorknob, the door flew open with brutal force, slamming into him and sending him crashing backward. He landed hard on his butt, the impact jolting straight through his weak legs like fire. Pain flared hot and immediate; he winced, biting his lip to keep from crying out, and looked up.

Noah stood in the doorway, a dark smirk already curling his lips. Sweat glistened on his skin, his singlet clinging to his chest from the game, tie, shirt, and blazer dangling carelessly from one hand like trophies he couldn’t be bothered to care about. He kicked the door shut behind him with his heel and stepped inside, eyes locked on Nathan sprawled on the floor.

“Can’t survive a little push, huh?” Noah asked, voice low and mocking as he walked closer.

Nathan didn’t answer—of course he didn’t dare. Not here, in Noah’s private space where the walls were thick, the door locked from the inside, and no one would ever come running if he screamed. He gripped the edge of a nearby chair, knuckles white, and pulled himself up slowly, legs shaking under his weight. “I’m getting late for work, so…”

Noah collapsed onto the sofa with a heavy exhale, his chest still rising and falling fast from the exertion outside. He tilted his head, studying Nathan like he was something mildly interesting. “You tried to run away?”

Nathan swallowed hard, throat dry. “No. I just… I wanted to go check.”

Noah chuckled, the sound dark and lazy. “You wanted to go check. As what?” He rose again in one smooth motion, grabbed a tennis ball from the desk, and sauntered back toward Nathan, half-sitting, half-leaning on the edge of the desk so he loomed even closer. “So you were gonna chase me off the field if I was still out there?”

Nathan’s legs trembled harder now, but he forced himself to stay composed, biting both lips between his teeth to keep them from shaking. “I wasn’t gonna do that. You know I can’t.”

“That’s right,” Noah said, nodding slowly like he was pleased with the admission. “You can’t do anything. And I can absolutely stop you from going to work, right?” He let the words drop like a bomb, casual and cruel.

Nathan’s eyes dropped to the floor, shoulders slumping as the weight of it hit him all over again. “Y…you know that’s my only source of income.”

Noah played with the tennis ball, tossing it up and catching it repeatedly, the soft thump-thump filling the tense silence. “Source of income,” he repeated mockingly, “and you’re still too broke to afford proper therapy or medication for that little… illness of yours?” He caught the ball one last time and squeezed it hard. “Pathetic.”

"Little?"Nathan replayed those words in his head, as his shoulders dropped further, the cruel words slicing deep. He stared at the devil in front of him, the one who controlled every miserable part of his day. “Well, it’s not enough,” he said, and this time his voice came out harder, edged with the anger he usually buried. He was fighting back tears, fighting the urge to scream or swing or just break down completely.

Noah noticed—the flash of defiance, the trembling lip, and it only seemed to feed him more. He dropped the tennis ball onto the desk with a clatter and straightened up, stepping even closer until Nathan could smell the sweat and grass on him.

He pulled him closer, his arms around his collar, as he pulled him closer to himself, Nathan's back to his front, while he settles his lips, on his ears. "You have a nice hair you know...."He whispered, and all Nathan could see was an insult, and he just nodded. "Blonde... straight and.... perfect for handling during a perfect blowjob."

Nathan's whole body went ridged, and cold. "W.. what are you trying to do?"Nathan whispered.

Noah chuckled, enjoying the moment. "What?"He aksed his hot breath fanning, Nathan's ear. "You haven't done it before?. You and I know you prefer being the hole!"

Nathan closed his eyes in total embarrassment, as he clenched his fist tightly. "Please, stop."He begged, desperately.

"What.."Noah trailed, as his finger traced, Nathan's neck to his chest. "You can't do it?"He aksed and Nathan nodded immediately.

Naoh pissed off, pushed him off slightly, as the faced eachother.

“You know what’s funny, Nate?” Noah said, voice dropping lower, almost intimate. “You work all those hours, dragging your useless legs around, and you still end up here on your knees for me. Every single time.” He reached into the pocket of his blazer, pulled out a thick wad of cash—crisp bills folded neatly—and slapped it down on the desk between them. The sound echoed in the quiet room.

Nathan’s breath caught. It was more money than he made in two weeks at the store.

Noah leaned in, eyes glittering. “That’s enough to cover your next rent, your meds, maybe even a decent meal that isn’t instant noodles. All you have to do is one little thing.”

Nathan stared at the money, heart pounding so loud he could feel it in his throat. “I can't do what you're asking..I can't..."He almost started sobbing.

"No... It's not that brutal. It's something you can definitely do."He mocked.

Nathan swallowed, the hard lump on bks throat. "What… what do you want?”

Noah’s smirk widened, slow and predatory. “Kiss me.”

The words hung heavy. Nathan’s stomach twisted violently. “No,” he whispered automatically, shaking his head. “I’m not—I can’t—”

Noah laughed softly, stepping even closer so Nathan had to tilt his head back to meet his eyes. “You can’t? Or you won’t?” He tapped the stack of bills with one finger. “This says you can. This says you’re desperate enough to do whatever I ask. Come on, Nate. One kiss, it's quick and Easy. And all your problems disappear for a little while.”

Tears burned behind Nathan’s eyes, hot and unstoppable.

He hated Noah—hated him with every aching bone in his body—but the money sat there like a lifeline, mocking him. Rent was due. His sister needed school fees. His legs hurt worse every day without proper treatment. And here was Noah, offering escape in the worst possible way.

“Please,” Nathan said, voice cracking. “Don’t make me—”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Noah cut in smoothly. “I’m giving you a choice. Kiss me, take the money, go to work late but still paid. Or walk out now with nothing and explain to your boss why you’re unreliable again.” He tilted his head, watching the tears finally spill over Nathan’s cheeks. “Tick-tock, Nate.”

Nathan’s hands shook as he reached up, his fingers brushing Noah’s singlet. He hated himself more in that moment than he ever had. Tears streamed freely now, silent and heavy, dripping onto his collar. He leaned forward, closed his eyes tight, and pressed his lips to Noah’s in the briefest, most miserable kiss imaginable—dry, trembling, full of shame.

The second their mouths touched, regret crashed over him like ice water. He jerked back immediately, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if he could erase it, chest heaving with humiliated sobs.

Noah didn’t move, didn’t laugh, just watched him with that same unreadable expression. Then he picked up the cash and pressed it into Nathan’s trembling palm, closing his fingers around it.

“There,” Noah said quietly. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Nathan clutched the money like it burned him, tears blurring everything. He couldn’t look at Noah, couldn’t speak. He just turned, grabbed his backpack with shaking hands, and stumbled toward the door on legs that felt like they might give out any second.

Behind him, Noah sank back onto the sofa, exhaling slowly.

“See you tomorrow, Nate,” he called after him, voice almost gentle. “Don’t be late for class.”

Nathan didn’t answer. He shoved the door open, stepped into the hallway, and let it slam shut behind him. The money felt heavy and dirty in his pocket, but he gripped it tighter anyway.

Because power was everything.

And right now, he had none.