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Noel shuddered, let out a high-pitched sigh that was downright embarrassing, but then he felt warm lips on his bare shoulder, moving to nuzzle at the back of his neck.
“I got you, Noel … I got you … needed to be with ya … be where I belong, love …”
Up Noel’s arse was apparently where Liam believed he belonged, but Noel couldn’t really argue with it. It was the way they could be physically closest; the closest they could possibly get to becoming one. Something so fundamentally wrong since the first time they did it, but something they kept doing because they didn’t want to not to do it. Couldn’t not do it. Not when it felt so good. So right.
It didn’t always feel so right in the past. But it almost always felt good.
And tonight it was right.
They’d watched the documentary together today—together at the Venice Biennale premiere—and it was another reminder that they belonged together. That nothing had truly felt right while they were apart. In the film, Liam went audaciously far as to say nothing in the world had been right during the years he and Noel were split. It made for some good theatre, but sometimes Noel wondered if maybe Liam wasn’t right.
He’d been right about a lot of things.
Almost irritatingly so, but Noel hadn’t found it in him to get irritated about much of it.
Because they were equals now. In the past, he might have considered such a situation to be a loss. A loss of control. A loss of territory in a war he’d been fighting for as long as he could remember: from fighting with Liam over the last biscuit in the tin to who was an inch over the invisible line they often drew down the middle of their tiny shared bedroom when they were rowing, and finally to Liam constantly challenging Noel in his position as “Chief.”
Now, finally being able to share equally with Liam felt … like freedom. Like a huge weight off his shoulders. Like now he truly had a partner in the music instead of an unpredictable obligation. He no longer had to “manage” Liam.
Liam still needed managing, lord knew, but that was Debbie’s job now. And she did it well and seemed happy doing it. He liked Debbie, and he liked how Liam was under her professional—and personal—management.
Didn’t mean he didn’t still look out for his little brother, though. Some things never changed, and as he and Liam navigated the red carpet, Noel kept a careful eye on him. Noel wasn’t a novice on a red carpet, but this was really the first major one that was all about him. About him and Liam. About Oasis. This paled in comparison to the premiere of the Supersonic documentary, which he’d skipped altogether, much to Liam’s consternation. (At the time, Noel had both mocked and pitied his brother turning up at a premiere dressed in the same bloody coat he’d worn on that fateful day at Loch Lomond. Sporting a similar kind of haircut, and for what? That Noel would kiss him on the red carpet and all would be resolved? Not bloody likely. Not back then, anyway.)
And then Liam had eventually retaliated by refusing to participate in the Knebworth documentary at all, let alone turn up for the premiere.
That had surprised Noel. A lot.
Even shaken him a little. Made him realize that he’d come to rely on Liam always calling after him, poking at him, harassing him, haunting his life like a foul-mouthed, Twitter-addicted spectre.
He’d shot an entire music video about that fucking spectre. Sang even more songs about wanting it to disappear.
Until one day he realized it might be happening. And what the fuck do you do when you realize that you don’t actually want the ghost to disappear?
Because you need the ghost. Because the ghost made you feel almost whole.
Almost.
It took more time after that—so much time—but eventually they’d found their way back. His brother a spectre no longer; Liam now a full-fledged part of his life and … it was fucking brilliant.
Taken him a while to accept that, too, but now he was there.
He was whole.
And now they were here in Venice, being celebrated for a film about the reunion tour. It was both overwhelming and kind of ridiculous, but Noel did his best to lean into the experience and try to enjoy it.
He’d smiled to himself when he saw Liam make an immediate beeline for the throngs of fans, who no doubt had been waiting all day in the Venice heat for even just a glimpse of them. Those were the people Liam wanted to see first and Noel conceded he was right. A Sharpie was pressed into his hand and he went to work, starting in at the other side from Liam and they each worked their way down the line, “signing” whatever was thrust in their direction.
Noel’s autographing style had changed a great deal since the early days. When he’d been so astonished that anyone might want his mark that he would carefully write out his name in his best cursive like he was back in school.
Well, that was roughly about … fuckin’ hell … 50 million autographs ago? However many the fuck it was. It started that he wanted to be able to sign things faster, so he developed a quicker version of his signature.
And then fucking eBay became a thing. Noel knew that autograph-selling was a thing long before the internet, but putting the entire operation online just made it explode in a way that made his mind boggle. He’d scroll through pages and pages of shit he’d autographed for a “fan,” reselling for absurd amounts. He hated it. Loathed it. It cheapened the interactions he had with fans, and it felt like it cheapened his name somehow.
He knew he couldn’t stop it, though. And he also knew that he’d be a real prick to stop giving autographs altogether. Because many of them were still for real fans. The ones who cried and stared at him like they couldn’t believe he was an actual living, breathing person. The ones who told him how much they loved him and how he was a genius and he was beautiful and wonderful and whoof …
Always nice to hear that, ’course, but it got to feel like too much pretty quickly and he’d need to move on. Couldn’t have a real conversation with those in the usually limited time they had together.
He eventually came up with what he still considered to be a workable solution.
He started giving out the most dogshit signature possible. When fans thrust out pictures and posters and albums to sign, he’d just flick his hand out with his Sharpie and let the pen do what it would. Which was usually a bit of a line with a curve at the end. It was completely illegible and could be easily faked by literally anyone.
That was the point.
If he devalued his own signature, it meant less on the autograph market. How could anyone be sure that he actually signed the things people tried to flog on eBay or wherever else? And what cunt wants to buy something in order to show it off to mates and have them say, “You say Noel Gallagher signed this? You sure? Could be fuckin’ anyone, mate. Think you got taken for a ride … unless you did this yourself and are just having us on, which would be kind of pathetic, yeah?”
Now, if he was given something to sign for a charity auction, then he put in a bit of effort to make it good. To actually say something.
But for the fans who just wanted him to sign something to keep as a memory of meeting him … they’d know the signature was his because they watched him do it. And that would be enough for them. They wouldn’t need to prove owt to anyone because they’d know in their hearts that it was real.
And that’s why he kept signing shit, even as he heard of other musicians who’d stopped signing things because of the same problem.
Wankers. Encounter a problem … fucking solve it. That’s what Noel did. It’s what he always did.
He and Liam met in the middle of the line and did a funny little dance as they crossed paths, grinning at each other, Noel murmuring a little joke to Liam that made him laugh and squeeze his shoulder, sending another flush of happy warmth through Noel’s entire body. The way he always felt now when he could make Liam laugh. Giddy … that’s what he was. Utterly giddy.
And giddy wasn’t cool. Fuck, he needed to rein this in.
And he had. For the most part. At least while posing for the cameras. Mostly able to keep his “cool rockstar” face on.
And he kept an eye on Liam. Liam also knew how to conduct himself, but he could get overwhelmed sometimes. Overstimulated. The film world wasn’t terribly familiar to them, and especially this poncy kind of film festival. Seemed awfully posh for what they were flogging, but also of course they wanted the exposure for the film. Because it was a bloody good one. And it was making them a fortune.
They were standing in a row, he and Liam and Steven and the others, and he cast a glance at Liam, who was standing perfectly still next to Noel. From Noel’s vantage point, he could see behind Liam’s shades and note that his brother’s eyes were closed. He was doing this thing … his “boxer” thing where he held perfectly still and let the chaos flow around him. It was a beautiful thing to see, really; both making him look stoic and imposing but also giving him a moment to retreat and regulate.
The photo op ended and they were instructed to move down the carpet where they’d repeat the process for the next batch of relentless flashing cameras, but Liam was still standing stock still. He’d gone off somewhere in that mad, beautiful head of his.
Quickly, but very gently, Noel reached behind his brother and just brushed Liam’s fingers, clasped behind his back, with his own, murmuring, “Come back, kidda … we gotta move along.”
He spread his arms wide for a moment in a kind of herding gesture as Liam startled a little, turning to look at his brother, who was using his body language to indicate which direction they had to go, and he nodded and turned back, falling into step to the next spot.
He’d always look out for Liam. But now he could trust that Liam looked out for him, too. He’d more than proven that over the past couple of years.
It was a nice feeling. A safe feeling. Seemed like Noel had spent his entire life trying to feel safe. Building walls around himself to ensure that. Liam always scratching at them, kicking at them, screaming at them, wanting to be let inside. Often only to just knock them all down and leave Noel standing all alone in the proverbial pile of debris.
But not now. Now they co-existed together in a way Noel had never imagined possible.
Noel was getting ready for bed and had turned off all the lights in the room except for bedside lamp—feeling somewhat embarrassed by how relatively early it was, but fuckin’ hell, he was knackered and the London premiere and the real party was right around the corner—when his phone pinged. It was early enough that his Do Not Disturb setting hadn’t even kicked in yet.
He picked up his phone and smiled. Liam.
Heard you came back in your room already
Yeah. I’m shattered. What about you?
Gonna crash want a kiss good night though
Noel chuckled softly.
Is that so?
Fucking right it is c’mon you know
Debbie will let you out?
Pause. Pause. Three dots. Pause.
Noel bit his lip after sending the wind-up text. He was kidding, of course, but there were still moments where he shot off his gob and worried Liam would get all mardy about it. They just had that ability to do that to each other, even on accident. Brothers.
Piss off Debs is still at the party anyway so can I come round or what
Noel breathed a sigh of relief.
Come on then. 1807.
They were on the same floor, Liam just a little farther down the hall, so he wasn’t surprised that he got a tap at the door in what felt like moments later instead of a text back.
Noel padded to the door, glancing down at himself as he did so. He was in his sleeping gear: soft, ancient grey T-shirt so worn he’d forgotten what the printing on it used to say, and almost equally worn navy pyjama bottoms. He wouldn’t answer the door for anyone this way except for Liam.
And he grinned when he opened the door to reveal Liam in a hotel robe, also wearing pyjama bottoms and a pair embroidered hotel slippers on his feet.
He opened the door wide to let Liam in, who gave him the once-over.
“You really are all set to kip, huh? In your jim-jams, lights all low and nice. I wouldn’t believe it. It’s bloody early for you, it is.”
Noel shrugged. “Big day, wasn’t it?”
Liam nodded, smiled. “Best day.”
Noel’s eyes narrowed into happy crescents as he smiled, nodding. “Fuckin’ brilliant.”
And then Liam’s arms were encircling him and Noel let out a soft sigh in spite of himself, nuzzling into Liam’s shoulder and collarbone as he wrapped his arms around him, shivering a little when Liam stroked the back of his neck. They’d been nudging up against each other one and off since the morning’s photocall, and with the mounting excitement of the day, the premiere, the frenzied reception from the fans, the two of them centre of attention on a red carpet, then sitting close together in the dark during the screening, and well, it had felt like a proper tease for hours and now they were finally alone.
Liam let out a happy, relieved sigh as well. “Yeah, wanted this for sure. Already brutal I couldn’t cop a feel during the film.”
Noel chuckled. “Being in a room full of people focused on us, and me boys sat behind us and all. Even in the dark, too risky.”
Instead, they’d settled for their knees pressing together and sometimes leaning in to nudge each other with their shoulders during certain scenes in the film, fingertips occasionally brushing.
“You looked fucking gorgeous today, Noely.”
Noel hummed softly and pressed a kiss to Liam’s neck. “Here’s where I suppose I have to tell you the same?”
“Naw.” Liam grinned and pulled back enough to look at Noel. He’d finally pried those Elvis shades off his face and Noel was happy to look directly into his baby blues. “I know I looked fuckin’ top. Except for them bloody pockets on the jacket, though. Fuckin’ still basted shut, they were. Dunno why none of us noticed that before. Managed to bust one open, but a bloke’s gotta have a place to put his hands, y’know what I mean?”
Noel just shrugged, having no idea what “basted shut” meant, but figured it was some clothing term Liam knew from his Pretty Green days. “You did fine, kidda. We both did.”
“Fuckin’ right we did. Poncy festival, fuckin’ hell. London will be mint. That will be our proper night. Fuckin’ black carpet and all, dead cool.”
“Why I decided to get me head down early. Save my energy for the proper party.”
Liam nodded, then moved his hands up to cradle Noel’s face. Noel leaned a little into the touch.
“My gorgeous lad,” Liam murmured. “Give us a kiss? Been waiting on it all day.”
“You thought I was gonna lay one on you in the theatre after, silly billy.”
“Well, yeah!” Liam said somewhat defensively. “You put your hand on the back of me neck and pulled me in and I just … well …”
“Muscle memory?”
A shrug. “Yeah, guess you can call it that, yeah.”
Noel chuckled. “You gotta rein that in, kidda …”
Liam made a noise. “Aw, rein this in, love …” And he leaned in and pressed his lips to Noel’s.
Noel’s eyes closed and he melted into the kiss, feeling Liam’s lips embrace his own, and then the warm press of his tongue, which he accepted, noting that they both tasted like toothpaste and how mad it was that they were in Venice and there was a party in honour of their film that was still going strong while and his kid were going to bed like good little boys.
The kiss deepened and they wrapped their arms tightly around each other, embracing in the way both of them had wanted to all evening.
Noel had already seen a few of the photos from the red carpet because that’s how fast everything worked now. Instantaneous. Gone were the days of getting his photo taken for a magazine and not seeing the results for at least a month or more. Even the print tabloids needed at least twelve to twenty-four hours to turn things around. But he’d been texted a few photos: him and Liam in front of the huge promotional sign for the film; him and Liam on the red carpet, Liam’s arm wrapped tightly around Noel’s waist and they looked like a proper couple, they did.
Couple of what, exactly, Noel chose not to dwell on. Only that he couldn’t hold back the small smile when Liam’s arm snaked through the loop of his arm and squeezed his waist both possessively and reassuringly.
Right here, brother. I’m right here.
Noel let out a whimper and pulled Liam even closer, feeling annoyingly emotional again. The film had brought him to tears … again. Only this time, everyone saw, including Liam. Liam, who saw Noel wiping at his face when the lights came up and did the proper Northern thing: take the piss out of him for it, then distract attention away from it by waving his arms around like a loon before throwing an impish smirk at Noel, pleased with himself.
And then Noel turned around and saw that his Donny was weeping as well—he hadn’t even had a proper moment to process that—and did the same thing Liam did, took the piss by nudging his brother, who turned around and playfully poked at Noel’s sons, getting laughs and smiles from both of him, but then Noel then murmured reassuringly to his eldest boy and offered him a fist bump, which Donovan accepted. Donny knew Noel was only kidding, but he had looked relieved to see that his father’s face was damp with tears as well.
Noel often struggled with the finer details of fatherhood, but he at least had been given a solid example of what not to do. And that included not mocking his sons when they cried. Not telling them to fucking suck it up and be men. Not teaching them that they had to bury their pain so deep down that it absorbed into them like a poison. Regardless if the pain was about something as minor as a broken toy, or as massive as a broken family.
About learning the difference between being a hard man and a strong man. His sons would be strong, but they wouldn’t have to be hard in the way Noel had learned to be in order to survive his upbringing. He couldn’t protect his sons from pain—the world was a fucking painful place—but least maybe they’d cope with it a little better than him. Hopefully.
“Hmmm, all right, Noely?” Liam murmured against his mouth, concerned.
Noel swallowed and pressed his face into the warmth of Liam’s neck for a moment to collect himself, breathing in his brother’s scent: a lingering hint of Liam’s cologne and just his natural smell.
Right here, brother.
They’d been properly reconciled for a few years now and Noel was still getting used to a Liam who could be mostly be relied on. A Liam who kept his word. A Liam who wasn’t so perpetually pissed and high that he couldn’t even remember that he’d even given a word to keep.
“Come to bed for a bit?” he murmured, pulling back to look up at Liam. “Unless you gotta get back to Debbie …”
“Naw,” Liam replied, running a hand up his back and stroking the back of his neck. “She’s still out at the party. Told her to have a good time—she’s earned it from all the wrangling she done all day. She’s a young ’un, yeah? She can handle a hangover tomorrow. Fuckin’ hell, she’s hard-fucking-core, man. Love that.”
How odd it was that Liam could praise his partner, his Debs, at the same moment that Noel was inviting him into his bed and it was fine. Totally fine for both of them.
Noel nodded, taking his brother’s hand to lead him the final few steps to the bed and lifting the covers open. Liam squeezed his hand before releasing it, shrugging out of his robe and letting it drop to the floor before climbing into bed, Noel following him, settling in with a soft sigh.
“Right cozy this is,” Liam murmured. “All the lights low … dead romantic, like.”
Noel just chuckled and pulled him in for another kiss, fitting his body up against Liam’s, both of them groaning softly at the contact. Liam wasn’t wrong … it did feel romantic, even if Noel had just been dimming the lights before crawling into bed and promising himself a maximum of fifteen minutes of faffing around on his phone before turning off the lamp and shutting his eyes.
Now the phone was forgotten, immediate sleep was forgotten, and the rest of the world was forgotten. Noel wasn’t even sure what this was leading to, but he just wanted to be with Liam. Feel him close and real and completely his.
They kissed and kissed, running hands over each other, limbs entwining, rubbing up against each other, and then he was on his back and Liam was rucking up his T-shirt to bury his face in Noel’s hairy chest, warm lips on his skin, hot wet tongue on his nipples, causing Noel to arch up with a soft gasp. He’d started getting a chub from the first kiss, and now he was hard and aching, and let Liam undress him, chucking the shirt off and aside, then Noel lifted his hips to let his pyjama bottoms come off, and then he was tugging off Liam’s sleep clothes, giggling when Liam cursed as he shook his left ankle where the inside-out pyjamas pants clung to his foot, and then they were naked and holding each other close again, Liam as hard as Noel was, both of the moaning in pleasure as they ground up against each other. Liam’s mouth trailed down his neck while Noel shuddered and ran his hands through Liam’s hair, still a bit crunchy with product, but still somehow soft, so soft.
The bed was comfortable and warm, the sheets impossibly soft, probably five million thread count or summat like that, the lights low, and they were tired, but not too tired to keep kissing deeply, almost lazily at times; the entire day until now had been scheduled to the hilt. Get the flight, get some sleep, get up, get on the boat, get the photos done, get ready for the premiere, etc. etc.
And now that was all done and they just had to make a flight tomorrow and recharge for the London premiere. Steve had been engaged to keep an eye on Sonny and Donny—he knew Debbie would as well, but it certainly wasn’t her responsibility to make sure they behaved—so their old fella could retire early and get some kip. It wasn’t like Anaïs or Liam’s older kids were there to party with, so he figured the boys would probably tire of the boring “grown-up party” before it got too late. Probably rack up a ridiculous room service bill in their shared posh suite across the hall, but why the fuck not? There were some things Noel had no problem “spoiling” his kids on, and one of them was travelling and letting them see and experience the world outside of what they knew at home.
If Noel hadn’t been taken on the road by the Inspirals and experienced band life, well, his and Liam’s lives could have turned out very, very differently. Having his eyes opened to a world outside of Manchester had been so unspeakably formative and now he had the means to show the world to his kids, and he’d foot the bills for them to go anywhere he went in the world for as long as they wanted to come along and it wasn’t overly interrupting school. Give them that grounding so they’d be ready when they wanted to start exploring more of the world on their own.
But for now Noel was happy to ignore the world outside his door and have some time alone with his kid.
He shuddered when Liam took them both firmly in hand and started to stroke a little. It felt good, but would be better with a bit of lube, and then he felt an ache inside, a yearning, a need …
“Up for it?” he murmured roughly, spreading his legs suggestively, letting Liam settle between them.
Liam blinked, giving Noel’s cock another tender stroke before releasing them both and propping himself up on one elbow, his left hand reaching up to gently tracing the line of Noel’s jaw. “Like you have to ask,” he said with a slow grin. “Always up for it, me. Just didn’t think you—”
“You didn’t think you’d end up this way when you texted asking for a kiss?”
Liam chuckled, brushing the pad of his thumb over Noel’s lower lip, and he kissed it gently. “A fella can hope, can’t he? But a kiss woulda done as well …”
“Big liar,” Noel teased, wrapping his arms around Liam and pressing a firm kiss to his mouth before leaning over to the side and fumbling into the drawer of the bedside table.
Liam raised an eyebrow when Noel produced a tube of lubricant.
“Only here two nights and … fuckin’ hell … you’re taking the piss about me expecting a shag?”
“Piss off,” Noel said with a soft chuckle. “Maybe I just wanted a really lush wank, huh …”
“Yeah, right … good thing I texted you, huh?” Liam smirked, chuckling as he took the tube from Noel and uncapped it. Noel shivered at the wet sounds of Liam touching himself, and then slick, warm fingers pressing up against his hole.
He’d thought about it, sure. Even getting a shag from someone other than Liam, so he’d had some condoms in the drawer as well, but at the literal end of the day, he hadn’t had the energy to pull … or let himself be pulled by someone else other than his brother.
Liam, who knew his body better than anyone else. Liam, who didn’t need to be wooed or impressed or seduced. Liam would just … take care of him.
He groaned softly as Liam’s fingers circled his rim and then dipped inside.
“You need this?” Liam murmured softly, nuzzling at his neck, twitching a finger inside him to clarify his question.
Noel shook his head. “Naw … naw … just … go slow at first, okay?”
In the back of his mind, Noel was thinking about the boys. They had their own suite and it wasn’t adjoining to his, but it was just across the hall, and he wondered about when they’d come back to the room. If they’d go to his door and knock. What they might hear. Well, it all seemed sweet and nice right now and as long as they didn’t start yelling each other’s names. Fuck knows they’d learned that long ago.
He didn’t want to rush this, but he didn’t want it to take forever, either. Just wanted a nice moment with Liam.
Liam repositioned himself, moving between Noel’s legs, weight braced on his left forearm as his right hand guided his prick and then Noel gasped softly as he was breached, involuntarily tensing a little, but breathing through it.
“Tha’s it,” Liam murmured softly, lovingly, stroking Noel’s hair, brushing a kiss over his cheek. “Tha’s good, Noel …”
It burned a little, but that would ease off in a little bit. What mattered was Liam’s cock soothing, filling, the empty ache he’d suddenly felt inside. Needing his brother as close as possible. Watching him shine on stage in the film, Noel had felt so proud again. And irrationally a little jealous, even though Liam had been sat right next to him, his knee pressing firmly against Noel’s.
Noel shared Liam with the world, but at the end of it all, he belonged to Noel first.
Liam let out a low moan as he slowly sank inside. “Fucking … yeah … Noely … needed this, yeah … fucking needed it …”
“I know,” Noel murmured, cradling the side of Liam’s face in his hand, stroking a thumb over his cheek before urging him down for a kiss.
When he was fully seated inside, Liam started to move, but very slowly and gently. Something about the entire day; the joy and the love expressed in the film; the low light in the hotel room and the two of them all alone after a day filled with people demanding their attention: the photographers, the film festival bigwigs, the fans … now it was just the two of them: connected as deeply as physically possible.
Liam was making love to him.
And it was what Noel realized he wanted in that moment.
Sometimes he didn’t; sometimes in the past when Liam was feeling more romantic—which wasn’t as rare some might think—Noel couldn’t even look him in the eye because it was all too much. Too earnest. Too real. Too … much like being a couple, and that often caused the shame of what they were doing—as two blood-related brothers—to flare up again, scorching him from the inside out and he’d have to turn away, have Liam take him from behind, snarl at him to do it harder … faster … get it over with … even when it was what he wanted more than anything else in that moment.
But he didn’t have those moments anymore. Not since they’d opened communications again. Not since the first time they admitted they still desired each other and quietly decided to stop feeling ashamed about it. Life was too fucking short for all that guilt, and the guilt had never been enough for them to stop their sexual encounters, never, ever enough to fix what was “wrong” with them, so what was the point of it then?
Liam’s kids were grown and Noel’s were mostly there. Noel was pushing sixty and neither of them were legally married, so … fuck it.
They wanted—needed—to love each other this way sometimes, so they did.
Sometimes it was short, fast, and furious. Sometimes it was playful and almost funny.
And sometimes it was dead sweet and … kind of romantic.
Like tonight. Noel let out a shaky breath and let his eyes meet his brother’s gaze. His brilliant blue eyes nearly blotted out by his blown-out pupils.
“I love you,” he whispered through a nervous smile.
A smile spread slowly across Liam’s face.
“I know,” he said, then dipped his head down to kiss his neck.
“Oi now,” Noel protested softly, “I—”
“Love you too, you dickhead,” Liam murmured against his skin. “Fuckin’ love ya to bits, Noel. God, I love ya …”
Noel wrapped his arms around Liam’s shoulders, and hitched his legs up, wrapping them around Liam’s waist and fell into the rhythm as they rocked together in the soft bed, under warm blankets, Liam’s cock sliding in deep, Noel shivering as it brushed up against his prostate, letting out a soft whimper of pleasure as Liam moved slowly but surely, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through Noel’s body.
“Liam,” he moaned. “Oh fuck, Liam …”
Liam raised himself up a little to meet Noel’s eyes as his hips rolled in a slow rhythm. “Feel so fuckin’ good around me … perfect, yeah … made just for me …”
Noel nodded, shuddering, hands sliding down Liam’s arms, which were braced on either side of his head. “Yours,” he murmured. “Fucking yours … and you’re mine.”
Liam nodded with a smile. “Always been. Since day one. And always.”
Whether you like it or not, brother.
But Noel liked it. Even when he thought he hadn’t, he did. Belonging to a magical creature like Liam was a gift… even though it had nearly ruined them both before. But that was before. He didn’t like to think about before very much, and especially not at this particular moment.
Right now was now and Noel liked now very much.
There was nothing—not even standing in front of a roaring crowd of fans who practically make his parka ruffle with the sheer sonic force of their adoration—that Liam loved witnessing more than the look on his Noel’s face when he started sliding his cock inside of him. The way his mouth would fall open in a gasped “ahhh!,” his back arching a little, head tilting back, eyes briefly closing, trembling a little at the invasion, but he loved it; even when it hurt at first.
Liam knew this because he’d let Noel have him that way, too, and for him the pain was part of the “price of admission,” so to speak. No one, and no one, fucked him that way except Noel, so it were summat he just associated with sex with our kid. He knew it wasn’t quite the same for Noel, but that was okay. Liam didn’t need to be the only one ever.
He just needed to be the favourite one ever.
He was and he wasn’t and he was, and he wasn’t, and then he really, really wasn’t. For all them years.
But now he was again.
And he’d do just about anything to make sure it stayed that way.
Noel could have his girlfriends … this latest one was a bit too close to Anaïs’s age for his liking, but … fuck it, Noel was a rockstar and this particular move was definitely in the rockstar handbook. Mick Jagger was probably the same age or older than Liam’s parents, and his current bird was pretty much the same age as Debbie, for fuck’s sake.
Maybe someday Debbie would decide to finish with him, and there would always be some other young bird, sure, but one with a with a good head on her shoulders who could keep Liam’s straight? Fuckin’ hell … he didn’t want to think about that. He needed and loved his Debs. No question about that.
But what he and Noel were together … that was summat else. It was theirs.
And today had been fucking top. London would be even better, he reckoned. Their own premiere … theirs alone. But this had been pretty aces. Posing with Noel on the red carpet. Sneaking an arm around him and squeezing his little waist. Posing like a couple.
He’d read some of the comments online before he’d come to see Noel. The usual mix of bollocks and shitcunts taking the piss, and then the comments that made him laugh.
They look like they just got married.
Gcest honeymoon everyone!
He’d laughed his ass off at first, but then he kept rolling it around in his mad melon.
Yeah … fuck … maybe those madheads are on to something … they’re on to a lot more than we can ever let them know, after all.
He kissed Noel, hips rolling slow and deep, taking his kid real nice and gentle, but deep and good. But he was tiring a little and his hips were starting to protest a bit, murmured to his brother, “Gonna shift onto me side … take you from behind for a bit … all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, love … it’s good for me, too …”
“Sound …” Liam slowly pulled out of Noel and nudged him onto his side, slotting himself up behind him, spooning his kid before guiding himself back inside with a soft moan.
“Ahhh, fuck … yeah …” Noel moaned as Liam started to move again, kissing Noel’s shoulder. This position was good, too, so he could touch more of Noel’s body, his still-slick fingers sneaking down to wrap around Noel’s hard prick. He squeezed it lovingly, possessively, feeling Noel tremble against him, letting out another low, needy moan.
“You looked so fucking hot on that red carpet, Noely,” Liam purred into his ear. “All them hollering for ya. Managed to keep me hands off mostly. But I knew I had to have ya later.”
“Uh-huh, yeah …” Noel moaned, quivering as pleasure as Liam stroked his cock in time with his slow thrusts, his free hand groping Noel’s chest, squeezing his tits and teasing his nipples, Liam’s breath hot on his neck and in his ear. Liam was everywhere and Noel just had to submit and let his brother give him pleasure. Our kid was putty in his busy hands.
“Wish we could show them, yeah?” Liam murmured, nipping his earlobe. “Show them what we’re really about. Confirm all them rumours.”
“How …” Noel gasped, willing to play along with Liam’s little dirty-talk game—nice one. It was one they both liked. All the different ways they might show the world what they truly meant to each other. None of it ever meant to happen in real life, of course, but sometimes they liked to talk about it while they were shagging.
“When I had me arm around ya … had ya close like you were me proper date and all,” Liam said, teasing Noel’s neck with the tip of his tongue. “Wanted to grab you and kiss you in front of all them cameras. Properly kiss ya … make what we done at way back at Loch Lomond look like a peck on the fuckin’ cheek, it would. Proper filthy.”
The closest they’d ever come to revealing themselves to the world. He knew Noel had only meant to give him a little kiss on the lips—he’d learned later that Noel was having a fucked-up day first in witnessing the accidental death of a festival worker, and then learning second-hand of Liam’s engagement to Patsy (yeah, like he was going to tell Noel that on that day … seemed silly now, but fuckin’ hell … no sodding way) was high on cocaine and made an impulsive decision to lay claim to his little brother on stage—but then Liam of course had to take it even further, sticking his tongue out, daring Noel. Not thinking for a moment that Noel call his bluff.
But he did.
Noel dared.
Did he fucking ever.
Had opened his mouth and kissed him, sucking on Liam’s tongue. In full view of the audience and dozens of photographers, who quickly shot the moment from every conceivable angle.
And the way Liam had gazed at him after. He barely remembered it, the combination of the booze and drugs and the sheer audacity of what Noel had done. But he saw the pictures. Would see the pictures constantly for the rest of his life.
His face turned up at his older brother, mouth ajar, eyes fixed on Noel—who was gazing out into the audience with a semi-stricken look on his gob. Yeah, brother … what the fuck did you just do?!—Liam’s twenty-three-year-old face frozen forever in an expression of complete awe.
Couldn’t believe he done it. Couldn’t believe it.
And then … couldn’t believe that nowt happened after. Fuckin’ nowt. Printed in every fuckin’ paper in the world, it felt like … and nowt happened.
The audience had cheered. The papers called it a “brotherly kiss.”
Fuckin’ hell. Liam would throw up if he had to kiss their Bod in that “brotherly” way.
Amazing how people just chose not to see what was right in front of their fucking faces.
He and Noel never really talked about Loch Lomond, either. What was there to say? They flew close to the sun but hadn’t gotten burned. Yet.
Noel had apparently performed some fancy fuckin’ footwork to keep the videotape footage of that particular moment of the show out of the public eye. Including their recent joint legal action. He had it stashed away somewhere, Liam knew it. But he hadn’t asked about it. Kind of preferred to not know, really.
Now, apparently Loch Lomond was something they could mention in passing like a fond memory. Funny how time worked like that.
But obviously, it was always more of a turn-on to talk about really outing themselves than to consider actually doing it.
“Yeah,” Noel gasped, arching, pressing his head back against Liam’s shoulder. “And then what?”
“I’d have ya right there. On that lush carpet. On your knees first, sucking me off. Nearly blinded by all them cameras, but you don’t need to see to give me head now, do ya, Noely?”
Noel groaned. “Just shove it in me mouth and I know what to do.”
“Fuckin’ right you do. Fuckin’ love your mouth on me. Let you get me all hard and slicked up and then I’d put you on your hands and knees and take your trousers and your keks down and have you right there in front of everyone.” Liam thrust in extra deeply for emphasis, causing Noel to cry out in pleasure.
“You’d like that, our kid? Everyone watching me have you? They’d probably keep cheering. Just like we used to imagine. Me havin’ you on stage. Bent over a monitor, up your lovely arse in front of all them fans. But now … all them people would be taking pictures and recording it on their phones. A dirty little sequel to our nice movie … everyone would see it … even that pretty little young bird you been running around with … what would she think, ey? Think she’d cheer us on, too?”
Noel groaned, both compelled and repelled by the thought, and managed to throw some of his weight back against Liam in a form of protest, since he couldn’t produce a word at the moment: his body burning with need with every slick thrust of Liam’s hard dick that thrust his own prick into his brother’s slippery fist.
Liam chuckled and kissed Noel’s neck tenderly. “Ah, just havin’ a laugh, yeah? Just a laugh, love … much rather do this. Have you all to meself, mmm-hmmm, all nice and cozy in bed, yeah?”
Noel made a rough noise of agreement, then turned his neck, angling his head as close to Liam as he could get, and receiving the kiss he was needing.
“This is just for us,” Noel managed to gasp, breath catching, turning his head back, stroking a hand over Liam’s hand, which was now clutched possessively over his heart.
“Just you ’n’ me, love,” Liam murmured in agreement. “Got ya back … ain’t losing you again.”
Noel shuddered. “No … never … swear …”
Liam made a broken sound and buried his face into Noel’s neck, squeezing his cock as he sank as deep into him as possible and then Noel was coming, letting out high-pitched “ah, ah, ah!” sounds as the waves of pleasure washed over him, his cock spurting over Liam’s fingers as he drove relentlessly into Noel, Liam’s breath hot against his skin, his groans vibrating into Noel’s back as his kid fell apart all over him.
Noel went boneless as Liam’s hand fell away from his cock and gripped his hip, grunting as he thrust in harder and deeper. Noel’s head fell back against his brother’s shoulder and he said, breathlessly, “Why don’t you come back on top and give us a proper kiss good night, love? Take me good and fill me up, that’s a good boy … c’mon …”
Liam whimpered in agreement, Noel groaning softly as he pulled out and nudged Noel onto his back, spreading his legs to let Liam settle between them again, hitching up his hips and moaning as Liam sank inside again.
“So good,” Noel groaned, gazing up at Liam. “So fucking good, kidda … coming and giving your big brother what he needs, yeah?”
“Yeah …” Liam gasped, leaned down to give Noel a clumsy but passionate kiss.
Noel held fast to him, as Liam’s movements grew more frenetic as he got closer. He stroked his brother’s bare back and nuzzled into his neck, smelling him, then biting at his ear lobe.
“Thought about it, didn’t I … last year … you taking me onstage … in front of ’em all. Two old geezers going at it proper in front of a paying crowd, Christ … them all watchin’ as you’re giving it to me good—cheering like when we snogged at Loch Lomond—like right now. Put it all inside me now, love … c’mon … give it to me …”
He pulled back enough to catch a glimpse of Liam’s face just before he came.
“Noely …” Liam gasped. “Oh fuck … Noel!”
And then he was gone, moaning, his body shuddering, quaking against Noel, sliding in deep and pumping him full.
Noel loved the way his kid looked just on the cusp … a kind of helplessness would soften his features, like he was being taken over by summat outside of himself … like he was seeing God … whom or whatever that was for his brother.
And then Liam was shaking apart on top of him, Noel feeling the pulsing warmth inside of him and he let out a groan of pleasure, of need, of relief.
Liam was still for a few moments, then pressed a kiss to Noel’s neck as he gently pulled out, rolled off, and then they put their arms around each other again.
“That were some kiss good night,” Noel finally said, chuckling, still breathless.
“Best fucking kind,” Liam murmured, stroking Noel’s arm. “Bet you’re really ready for a good kip now, our kid.”
Noel nodded, Liam’s mention of sleep triggering a yawn. “Fucking right. I’m about to go …”
“Hang on a tick …”
“Hmmm?”
“Just gonna see to you, Noely … be right back …”
Liam returned from the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed, peeling back the covers to expose Noel’s body. “C’mon … give you a little cleanup before you kip, love.”
Noel gave a raspy chuckle, shivering a little at the touch of the damp flannel, even though it was warm. “I’d just showered earlier and all …”
Liam smirked. “Didn’t hear you complaining a few minutes ago when you were spunking all over the place.”
“Mmm, fuck off.” The sleepy words held no heat. In fact, when Noel said it a certain way, it could mean something even warmer than “I love you.”
Satisfied with his handiwork, Liam chucked the sodden flannel onto the corner of the bedside table. He may have changed: grown up and become more responsible, but he still wasn’t making the trip all the back to the bathroom to rinse out the flannel.
Liam drew the covers back over Noel and stood, checking to make sure he was covered up well.
Noel chuckled again. “Are you … are you tucking me in, kidda?”
“Maybe I am!” Liam said, a hint defensiveness covered by a smile. He leaned down to press a kiss to Noel’s forehead, then to his mouth, murmuring, “Hey … guess what they’re saying online about all our lovely photos today?”
Noel groaned. “Liam … no …”
“That we look like we just got married.”
“… we what?” Noel nearly sat straight up, but Liam gently urged him back down, giggling.
“Our romantic Venice honeymoon.” Liam batted his eyelashes. “Boat ride and all …”
Noel rolled his eyes, then rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Insane … the lot of them.”
“Closest thing, ey?”
“For fuck’s sake, Liam …” Noel chanced a glare at Liam, but his expression softened when he saw Liam’s playful grin and sparkling eyes.
“Sweet dreams, brother. It was a wonderful wedding night.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Only Noel how to make that sound dead sweet. Almost romantic.
“I love you, too.”
“Hmmph.”
“Oi, Uncle Liam!”
Having just closed Noel’s door behind him, Liam turned around in alarm, then smiling when he saw Steve escorting Sonny and Donovan back to their room, the bodyguard giving Liam a nod and a grin.
“Back in one piece, like I promised Noel. Didn’t promise I could keep ’em both off the sauce, though.”
Liam tugged the belt of his robe a bit tighter around him and stepped closer to his nephews, noting their flushed cheeks and the way Donovan fumbled to find his key card. They’d had a few, for sure. Sonny wasn’t quite of age yet, but fuckin’ hell, he was nearly sixteen, and Liam had been on the drink since he was even younger than the kid, and they were in Europe, for fuck’s sake. They weren’t falling over and it was even before midnight. They were fine.
He smirked at Sonny. “You two had some fun at the boring old-people party, yeah?”
Sonny nodded, grinning, but trying to stand up straight in the overcorrecting the way that teenagers did when they were trying to pretend they hadn’t had a drink or two. “Yeah … it was all right.”
“Thought you’d be dead out by now,” said Donovan. “Debbie said you would be.” He was smiling, but also looked worried. He’d seen the kid pissed before, during the tour, when he were newly of age, but he supposed it were different when he and his brother were “sneaking back” in after an evening on their own.
He supposed he had to make some attempt to make the lads feel like they were getting away with summat instead of just cheering them on. Noel would appreciate it.
Liam shrugged and stepped forward to clap Donny on the shoulder, giving it a bit of a squeeze, looking into his eyes with a smile and a little nod of tacit understanding.
All good, kidda. Won’t rat you out for letting your kid brother have a few.
As if he would ever, ever do that. As if Noel gave a fuck in these circumstances. He was a good da. The boys were living with him after the divorce. That told him all he’d needed to ever know. Even now that Donny could legally choose, he still wanted to be with Noel. Fuck yeah.
Donovan’s smile softened and he nodded back. Liam slung an arm around Sonny and gave him a half hug.
“Just givin’ your old fella a kiss good night before I get me head down. You two want one, too?” He puckered his lips and made cartoonish kissy-kissy sounds as boys cracked up in laughter and backed away from him.
“No! No, way!”
Liam smirked. “Your Da was half out just now when I was leaving, so how about you just shoot our kid a text to let him know you’re in all right, okay?”
He looked over to Steve and smirked. “Our Steve here will also text him to tell him you actually are in and on your way to get some kip. Because that’s what you’re gonna fuckin’ do now, yeah? Didn’t sneak any booze in on ya, yeah?”
He stepped forward and pretended to frisk Sonny, who giggled and fended him off, batting at Liam’s hands. “Get off, man! We’re clean, promise!”
Donovan cracked up. “Swear, Uncle Liam! I mean, we tried to—”
“Shut up!” Sonny hissed.
“OI!” Liam heard Noel’s voice before he registered the door opening, and Noel—back in his jim-jams—was blinking in the light of the hallway, hair stood a bit on end … and not from sleeping.
“Oh, hi Dad!” Sonny said sheepishly. Donovan offered a guilty smile.
Noel pointed at their room’s door. “You two … get the fuck in there. Get to bed now before you wake up the entire floor.” He looked at Liam. “That means you, too, kidda. Shift it.” He yawned pointedly and nodded at Steve. “Thanks a lot for keeping tabs on ’em, Steve. I mean it.”
“You’re all right, Noel, Liam,” Steve said, turning to go. “See you in the morning.”
Donovan managed to get the door open and he and Sonny stumbled inside, giggling their good nights.
And then it was Noel and Liam alone again.
Noel shook his head. “Fuckin’ hell … some timing that was.”
Liam shrugged. “Told them I was giving you a kiss good night. That’s truth enough. In fact …” he darted forward and before Noel could react, landed a sneaky kiss on his mouth.
“One more for the road, our kid.”
Noel chuckled and tried to slap at Liam, who hooted and bounced out of his reach. “Go to bed already, you little shit.”
Liam grinned and mock tiptoed down the hall toward his own room. “Nighty-night, Noely G … love yooooou!”
He heard a muttered “Loveyoutoo” before the door closed.
Liam smiled, holding his head high and throwing his arms up into the air in triumph as he strutted down the empty hallway toward his room.
Best kiss good night he’d had in recent memory. But there would be more to come.