Archive of Our Own ^beta

Liam landed a fucking amazing kick to his gut a few days ago. Fucking ace, truly. He’s even got a bruise to show for it, so big now that he considers the possibility of internal bleeding. 

To be fair, he landed a kick just as good to the cunt’s nose. Almost broke it, almost, but he didn’t hear that signature crack and instead took another hit to the eye instead. 

Liam won that one. He’s man enough to admit. He can’t even remember what the argument was about. He vaguely remembers discussing Macca and The Wings. Liam probably told him he was better with The Wings, and Noel promptly decked him in the jaw. 

Either way, he has a bruise now. Big fucking thing. Purple and green and yellow all over. Right on his side, on his ribs. 

Liam’s on top of him. His nose is rubbed red and his breath smells like he’s had too many Shirleys to even count. Noel’s sure he looks the same, but at least he’s not fucking Liam. That always means he’s more sober. As an older brother, he’s always more sober. That’s just how it fucking works, yeah. 

So Liam is licking on his neck like a dog, nuzzling his cheek with his head and biting him with his teeth that feel sharp as a fucking razorblade. Fucking hell, that’d be a decent song lyric, that would. 

Noel doesn’t have time to shove him off and get a pen, because he’s digging his pokey fat fucking fingers into said bruise that he had left earlier in the week. And Noel fucking cries. He wails. He whines. He shouts so loud that Liam lifts off of him and gives him a truly wild look. 

His cock is rock hard. It’s so hard he cries again and moves his hand to his crotch because he needs to cum immediately. It’s a feeling he’s never experienced before. Liam has worked him to tears and made him beg, but he’s never felt like this, never. 

His hands are suddenly caught, both of them, by Liam’s own hand. He pulls them up above Noel’s head and pins them to the bed. Noel’s got tears in his eyes. He’s writhing, moving anywhere he can. 

“Fuck, Noel,” Liam mutters, still dumbfounded, probably. And Noel would be too, definitely, if he even had the capacity to fucking think. 

All he feels is pain, pleasure, more pain, and even more pleasure. His insides are throbbing. He feels his intestines in his heart. His cock is about to fall off he’s so fucking hard. He wants it again. He wants Liam to hurt him again and again and again, and remind him of it again and again and again. And he almost tells him that, but then Liam digs his fingers into his side again before he has the chance. 

He wails. 

Maybe he’d be embarrassed of it if he could think. Maybe he’ll be embarrassed of it in an hour, maybe thirty minutes. 

But for now, he wraps his arms around Liam’s back, digs his fingers into the hair on the nape of his neck, and fucking sobs. Poor kid, he probably has no idea what’s happening. All that coke probably wiped straight out of his system at Noel’s first cry. 

“Fuck, you like that? You like that?” Liam asks, incredulously. He doesn’t even mean to be sexy, doesn’t even mean for it to be dirty talk, but he pushes into Noel’s ribs again and it is, it really is. He likes it. He fucking loves it. 

“Liam,” is all he can manage to say. His head is spinning. His dick is about to fall off. He needs something, something, anything. 

Liam sucks a bruise under his ear, and he’s gone. He comes, completely untouched, still trapped in his jeans. He makes a pathetic noise that he can’t even believe. He thinks he blacks out, maybe, for a minute or two, and when he comes to, he’s panting as if he’s just run a marathon.

Liam is simply staring at him, eyes wide, as if he’s just seen a fucking ghost. 

“Fucking hell, Noel.”

“Fuck.” 

They agree, at last. Noel can’t move. Liam takes his hand and shoves it down the front of his pants, and then he’s touching his cock, and, somehow, Liam’s coming all over his hand. It’s sticky, warm, disgusting, and Noel doesn’t even think before bringing his fingers to his mouth, sucking at the taste absentmindedly. 

Liam looks like he’s hard again, raring for another go. He whimpers. Noel looks at him with hazy eyes and turns over to lay on his side, the side that isn’t bruised. 

Before long, Noel feels his brother’s arms come to wrap around his middle, careful of the sore area on his ribs. It’s not because he doesn’t want to hurt him; it’s probably because he’s still trying to wrap his mind around how the hell his brother has just come by getting his stomach prodded at. 

He hums. Noel hums back, closing his eyes. He feels Liam’s nose at the back of his neck, and feels his warm breath fan down his back as he says: “Would’ve hit ya harder if I knew you’d be this worked up ‘bout it.” 

And Noel’s got his senses back, so he scoffs and sends an elbow into his stomach. “Get to fuck.” 

Liam only shimmies closer. He takes a strong inhale of Noel’s collarbone. Creep. “Cunt.”

His fucking creep. “Cunt.”