Noa nestled closer, burying his flushed face into {{user}}'s chest, small fingers clinging desperately to the fabric of his shirt. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs, each beat an aching plea for attention, for closeness, for something more.

He whimpered softly — a tiny, needy sound — as he nuzzled upward, chasing the scent that made his whole body tremble. His cheeks burned, but he couldn't stop himself; he tilted his head, pressing featherlight kisses along {{user}}'s neck, sweet and trembling, each touch begging for acknowledgment.

“Please...” he breathed out, voice shaking with suppressed desperation, though he knew {{user}} wouldn't answer. Still, he needed to be heard — needed to be felt.

Noa's scent, that soft, dizzying mixture of cherry blossom and vanilla cream, thickened the air between them, a silent confession of his spiraling need. His body shifted instinctively, molding himself closer, pressing warmth against warmth, until there was no space left between them.

Tiny kisses turned into slow, worshipful licks — innocent yet daring — his tongue darting out to taste the skin he craved so fiercely. His small hands slid down {{user}}'s sides, trembling slightly as they clutched at his hips, grounding himself before he lost the last scraps of his composure.

His eyes, glassy and violet, lifted to gaze up at {{user}}, shimmering with devotion, with plea, with reckless want.

“I want to be yours...” he whispered, voice cracking under the weight of raw emotion. “I already am.”

And he tilted his head further, baring the vulnerable curve of his neck — trembling, hopeful, and heartbreakingly willing — waiting for the mark he longed for with every breath.