[BL] Dear Hushand, I want divorce-Chapter 131: Are we dating? (M)

TWO YEARS LATER ;

Noah stood in the kitchen, stirring the pot absentmindedly, lost in his thoughts. Two years. Well almost three years when they first met. It had been three years since everything started with Ryder, and yet Noah was still conflicted.

He never expected that all those steamy nights, teasing conversations, and sweet, stolen moments would lead him to this point—falling for Ryder. But he had. Hard.

He never thought those initial steamy hookups would evolve into something that would shake him. The teasing, the lustful encounters, the spontaneous dates...Somehow, they had slipped into a routine that felt so much more intimate than just friends-with-benefits. And it scared him.

But what exactly were they? Noah had asked himself that question so many times recently. They weren’t just friends who had sex and then went their separate ways. That would have been simple. But they spent almost every day together now—whether it was grabbing dinner, going on late-night drives, or just lounging around watching movies.

And then there was the sex, of course. Ryder’s touch was always possessive, always craving more than just a release.

Noah could feel it—it wasn’t just casual anymore.

They were almost like a real couple, but they had never confirmed it. No labels, no definitions. And Noah hated it. He wasn’t someone who liked undefined things. He wanted clarity, something solid. But every time he thought about asking Ryder what they really were, he felt his stomach twist with nervousness. How was he supposed to bring it up?

Every time the thought crossed his mind, embarrassment swelled in his chest. He wasn’t even sure how Ryder would react. Maybe he’d laugh it off, say it didn’t matter.

A sharp ring from the doorbell jolted Noah back to reality.

He blinked, pausing to wipe his hands on the kitchen towel before rushing to answer it. His heart skipped a beat as he swung open the door. And there he was—Ryder, standing on the other side, with that familiar, cocky grin that always made Noah’s stomach twist in both frustration and something dangerously close to fondness.

Ryder’s eyes roamed over him, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Miss me?" he asked, his voice dripping with that effortless charm that always caught Noah off guard.

Noah felt his face flush despite himself. He could never stop the way Ryder made him feel—flustered, warm, shy. Even after two years of them fucking each other mindlessly, the effect Ryder had on him was still the same.

Before he could even form a proper response, Ryder was already leaning in, his lips capturing Noah’s in a kiss that was both possessive and tender. It wasn’t rushed, like some of their earlier kisses, but there was a sense of familiarity in it—like coming home.

Noah’s pulse quickened, his mind momentarily blank as he kissed Ryder back. The warmth of Ryder’s lips, the soft brush of his fingers against Noah’s waist—it was intoxicating. When Ryder finally pulled back, Noah felt slightly breathless, his cheeks even redder than before.

Ryder smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of Noah flustered. "You’re too easy to read," he teased, stepping inside the apartment and closing the door behind him with an easy confidence.

Noah tried to compose himself, clearing his throat as he led the way toward the kitchen. "I was just making dinner," he said, his voice a little too casual as if the kiss hadn’t left him rattled. He could still feel the ghost of Ryder’s lips on his, and it was making it hard to focus.

"Dinner?" Ryder echoed with a raised brow, his eyes following Noah. "Look at you, playing house now."

Noah rolled his eyes, but the blush refused to leave his cheeks. "Shut up," he muttered, pretending to be annoyed, though he could hear the softness in his own voice.

Ryder, clearly not one to let teasing slide, stepped closer, his body heat brushing against Noah’s. "What? I think it’s cute," Ryder murmured, his lips hovering near Noah’s ear. He pressed a kiss against Noah’s neck, lingering there just long enough for Noah to shiver at the contact.

God, why was Ryder like this? Always finding a way to make Noah feel both exasperated and ridiculously giddy at the same time. But still, behind the playful jesting and stolen kisses, that nagging question lingered in Noah’s mind.

What were they? Friends with benefits didn’t act like this, did they? They didn’t spend time together outside of sex. They didn’t make each other dinner, share long conversations, or look at each other the way Ryder sometimes did when he thought Noah wasn’t paying attention. They didn’t kiss with that kind of tenderness.

But Ryder had never said anything. He hadn’t asked for more. He hadn’t tried to define what they had. So, why did Noah feel like he was the only one struggling with the confusion?

Before Noah could spiral too far into his thoughts, Ryder interrupted with his usual playful charm. "So, what’s for dinner, chef?" he asked, peeking over Noah’s shoulder at the pot.

"Stew," Noah answered simply, trying to keep his tone steady despite Ryder’s proximity.

Ryder chuckled, pulling back just enough to give Noah space, though his hand remained casually on Noah’s waist. "You really are going domestic on me, huh? Next thing I know, you’ll be inviting me over for game nights."

Noah couldn’t help but snort at that, though the image of them being that domestic did something weird to his chest. "As if," he muttered, though there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

But as they moved through the easy motions of their evening, that familiar warmth between them, Noah couldn’t shake the lingering question. He wasn’t sure how to ask it. He wasn’t even sure if he should. But how much longer could they go on like this without acknowledging what it had become? His heart felt heavy, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to ask.

So, instead, he let Ryder distract him, just like always—trying to push away the confusion for one more night.

As Noah moved around the kitchen, trying to focus on dinner, Ryder’s playful banter continued, a low hum of flirtation. Noah was distracted by Ryder’s charm and the way he seemed to effortlessly blur the lines between casual and intimate.

Without warning, Ryder’s hands moved sneakily, and he was suddenly kneeling in front of Noah, his gaze locked with Noah’s. Ryder’s fingers deftly worked at Noah’s pants, unzipping them with ease. Noah’s breath hitched as Ryder’s hands brushed against his cock.

"What are you—" Noah started, but the words faltered when Ryder’s mouth enveloped him. Ryder’s tongue was hot and thick, his lips moving with a skilled, rhythmic motion. Noah’s head fell back as a sharp gasp escaped him, his hands instinctively finding their way to Ryder’s hair.

Ryder’s gaze occasionally met Noah’s, filled with a blend of mischief and intense focus. His lips worked with a deliberate slowness that made every movement excruciatingly pleasurable. His head bobbed up and down making the hard cock slippery. Noah’s mind spun, caught between the immediate, overwhelming sensations and the deeper, gnawing questions about their relationship that he couldn’t quite shake.

The sound of Ryder’s muffled moans, combined with the occasional clink of kitchen utensils, created a backdrop of illicit, intoxicating pleasure.

"Ry–Ah!" Noah’s grip tightened on Ryder’s hair, his eyes clenched shut as he lost himself in the manias. Ryder’s suckings were confident, and every lick seemed designed to push Noah closer to the edge, to drown out the nagging questions that had been plaguing him.

When Ryder finally pulled away, his lips glistening and his eyes dark with satisfaction, Noah’s breath came in uneven gasps.

Ryder stood up, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched Noah’s flushed face and trembling form. "You okay there?" Ryder’s voice was low, teasing, yet there was a softness to it that seemed to acknowledge the deeper connection beneath the surface.

Noah nodded, his throat dry and his mind still reeling. He glanced at Ryder, searching for the words to bridge the gap between their physical connection and the emotional uncertainty that dawdled. But for now, the kitchen was silent, save for the gentle simmering of the stew and the lingering hum of what had just transpired.

Ryder’s smirk widened as he tugged Noah’s pants back up, his fingers brushing against Noah’s dick with a teasing touch. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Noah’s lips, murmuring, "Guess I already had my dinner." The playful glint in his eyes made Noah’s face flush a deep crimson.

Noah, still reeling from the intense sensations and overwhelmed by the emotions stirring within him, struggled to regain his composure. Ryder’s laughter was warm and infectious, but it did nothing to quell the storm of nervous energy building inside Noah.

As Ryder turned to head towards the living room, Noah’s heart raced uncontrollably. The question he had been grappling with for weeks bubbled up to the surface, his mind unable to silence the pressing need for clarity.

With a shaky breath, he called out, "Ryder, what are we?"

Ryder paused mid-step, turning slowly with a look of genuine surprise on his face. His eyes searched Noah’s. "What?" he asked, his tone slow and cautious.

Noah gulped, feeling the weight of his own anxiety. The prospect of Ryder’s response filled him with dread, but he couldn’t back down now.

Noah gulped, don’t know why but he somehow felt like he wouldn’t like the answer Ryder would give. But it’s too late. He can’t take it anymore.

He forced a shaky smile, trying to mask his growing panic. "I mean, we’re dating, right? I just...I need to know."

Ryder’s brows knitted in confusion. "Dating?"

.