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"Hurts, fuck," Liam's voice scratched out, hoarse and fleeting, trying to empty his stomach but mostly only managing to spit. Spaghetti was a fucking nightmare to retch, it was. Noel's fault for taking him to that italian diner in the first place. Was like he wanted to watch him struggle, the bastard.
"Keep goin', our kid. C'mon, you wanna look good, right? Go on." Noel was holding his hair back, rubbing soothing circles into his spine while Liam was bent over the toilet. Like a good brother.
His throat burned, a sickening acidic taste permeating his esophagus the more he tried to force the food up. "I can't. Fuckin' hurts, man."
Noel furrowed his brows, a mean wrinkle between them, and his voice sharpened. "Yes, you can and will. Here, d'you want my help?"
He's a bit fucking much sometimes. Liam would like to see him fight his own bodily instincts every night. "An' how are you meant to help? Gonna fucking reach into me guts and shovel the food out yourself, are you?"
Noel instead shifted over from behind Liam and pressed his fingers to his lips expectantly. He pursed his lips into a tight smile—just 'cause he wanted to give Noel a hard time—but eventually he parted them at Noel's insistence, letting him slip his fingers inside. "Like this. Gonna push 'em in, now. Are you ready?"
Liam couldn't respond, of course, and he's not sure his response would matter anyway 'cause Noel had already wriggled his fingers in further, hitting the back of his throat, and crooked them downwards. He gagged around his fingers before heaving up the remaining contents of his stomach with great effort; tears were pricking at his eyes and his whole frame was trembling as he clutched at the sides of the bowl, trying to spit out the cloying aftertaste of vomit.
Noel's fingers remained firmly lodged in his throat though, and he looked up at him through his wet lashes to somehow communicate through his mind get your dirty fucking fingers out my mouth, but all that seemed to do was spur him on, starting to slide them in and out to Liam's horror. He sputtered around the digits assaulting his throat, finally managing to shove Noel off. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, cursing, and looked up betrayedly at Noel's self-satisfied little smile. Weird cunt.
While Liam was recovering, Noel had gotten up and returned with a small towel, wiping off the saliva that had dripped down Liam's chin and cupping his face in his rough hand. He thumbed his cheek sweetly, his words to match. "Good boy. Only want what's best for you, know that?"
Fatigue tugged at Liam's body but he leaned into Noel's touch all the same, feeling himself unwind as he gave himself over into the safe arms of his big brother. He looked up into Noel's eyes and there was a sort of unsettling stillness in them. Proper dark, like his pupil had engulfed the rest of his eye so much that only the black bit was visible, unwavering. But Liam couldn't pinpoint what it meant, so he left it alone, and drifted further into Noel's warmth 'cause he didn't get this sort of treatment often 'less he's been good and stuck to his 'diet'. That's what Noel called it, at least, and Liam sure as hell wasn't about to call it anything else. Cerice was all up his fuckin' arse 'bout it once she'd noticed his weight loss—sayin' it's unhealthy and she'd seen her sister go through this, said it was anorexia or whatever the fuck. Sounded like a bloody dinosaur. Noel said she was just jealous—trying to sabotage him and that, y'know how birds get competitive about their weight, be bare embarrassing for her if your waist is smaller—and told him to leave her, so Liam did. He's glad he did, too, 'cause now Noel's a lot nicer. Not calling him fat as much, or pinching at the too-soft parts of him to cruelly mock when he's upset.
"Arright. Get up, then," Noel said, gently pushing Liam off of him and pulling the door open, padding into their shared hotel room. He yelled from the bed, "And brush your teeth. Smells fuckin' rank."
Liam took his time brushing his teeth, making sure that awful lingering taste of vomit was gone. He fell into bed with Noel shortly after, yawning and about to let the tiredness that's been hanging over his head all day take him under but then he felt the mattress dip closer to him—Noel had rolled onto his side, facing Liam, and pressed a kiss to his lips. Wasn't chaste, though, because then his hands wandered beneath his shirt, one hand resting on his waist and the other tweaking at his nipple, elicting a sharp intake of breath from Liam, who opened his eyes blearily, faced with an identical pair boring into him.
"'m not up for it tonight, Noel. Knackered, I am," he mumbled, uselessly pulling at the arm that was now riding down his back, painfully digging into the knobs of his spine with rough fingers. Can't get a minute's peace, can he.
"Then go to sleep or summat. Don't really care, do I." He shifted his leg up in between Liam's, involuntarily stirring interest low where his knee met his crotch. He just wanted to fucking kip, though, not have it off with Noel after he's just spewed. The very thought had him nauseated, mixing uncomfortably with the arousal Noel's forced on him sizzling in the background.
Liam groaned, putting an arm around his eyes, desperately trying to block out the blinding lamp light Noel had flicked on earlier while he was trying to sleep. "Told you I'm tired, man, can barely keep me eyes open."
Noel's hands stilled for a moment before letting a small press of air escape through his nostrils. "You've been asleep plenty times before, didn't hear your complainin' then." His hand continued moving down, invasively creeping down the back of his pyjamas and groping his arse. The waves of his voice seemed to reach inside his ear and tear through his whole body, now. "And you're always up for it, let's not kid ourselves. So quit your whinging or just shut your eyes and let me do what I want." He punctuated that by dipping a finger down the cleft of Liam's arse, thumbing over his hole, slightly threatening with the dryness. Noel wouldn't hurt him, though.
Liam shut his mouth, too tired to argue. His body felt heavy and exhaustion was pulling at his limbs but his mind stayed wide awake, buzzing with the implication that Noel's been doing things to him while he was asleep. But that shouldn't matter, cause Liam would've given it to him anyway, every single time. Pointless to try and deny it, wasn't it.
When Noel pulled his pants down along with his pyjamas, Liam, in spite of his exhaustion, had gained enough interest that his cock sprung out, precum already glistening down his length.
"So small," came Noel's voice, a strange air of veneration as he spoke. His gaze trailed all across Liam's body, and it sent a crawling sensation trickling down his spine, like a faucet just slightly twisted open, releasing a steady, maddening drip of water— never enough to cause a flood, but enough to build up, drop by drop, sure to drive anyone to insanity.
An uncomfortable flush crept up from his neck. "Fuck off. Get on with it." Noel's one to talk about being fucking small, anyway.
"'S a good thing—wouldn't have you any other way." And he crooked a finger inside him, then two, and soon enough four, with not nearly enough lubrication—he only used spit. The dry stretch felt good, he told himself; a bit of pain was necessary, wasn't it. But then, too soon—far too soon—Noel's fingers were replaced by something much larger and he shoved into him without warning, a white-hot pain searing through his whole being, forcing out a surprised yelp.
"Slowly, fuck—" Liam pleaded, gripping onto Noel's upper arms, but he didn't pay much concern, just kept spearing Liam onto him till he was sheathed all the way inside, then pulled out and slammed back in, the ridges of his cock dragging violently along his insides. But Noel wouldn't hurt him on purpose.
Liam looked down to where he was being split open on Noel, eyes widening—and suddenly he felt a bit lightheaded, drunk on whatever Noel was doing to him. "Can feel you—can see you inside. Too much, Noely." His airy moans were stabbed out of him—it felt like Noel was driving a knife in and out of him, carving out a home for himself in the warmth Liam housed deep inside.
Noel faltered, looking down to where he was connected to Liam, and his eyes trailed upwards till he saw it—his cock noticeably bulging in Liam's lower stomach, sliding in and out, and that's when he lost his composure, setting a brutal pace. He sprawled his palm out over his stomach, feeling himself glide inside, fucking into his hand and Liam's tight vice-like grip.
"Gorgeous, our kid. Fucking beautiful, fuck, you take me so good." Noel shifted so he was thrusting into Liam's body at an angle, now mercilessly pounding into his prostate, drawing out a particularly pained whine from Liam.
He didn't know when he started crying, but he felt the wetness reach his cheeks, slide down and mix with his sweat. He felt uncomfortably hot, felt like the room was closing in on him and Noel and he was being pressed so close to him the only things he could hear were the sounds of their breathing, intermingled. The praise wasn't lost on him though, and the burning expanding beneath his skin crescendoed as he released onto his stomach, completely untouched, gasping in bursts as he came down.
"Fuck—yeah, y'like that? Comin' all over yourself for me like a teenager, fuck," Noel breathed. He barely registered Noel leaning down, face tucked into his neck as he mouthed bruises into his skin. "Gonna mark you up, our kid, show everyone yer owned," he mumbled into his skin, barely audible, hot breath fanning over the expanse of his neck. Teeth grazed over the pitter-patter of his pulse, pressing down as if testing the waters, and for a moment Liam panicked, thinking Noel would sink his teeth and that'd be the end. But then Noel pulled away, moving up to bite at his lobe, a dampness left behind as he licked at Liam's ear, whispering vulgar nonsense into his canal that even Liam couldn't decipher—it made him squirm all the same, though.
The constant prodding at his prostate didn't stop, though, and it was getting proper painful without the pleasure to mask it, coupled with the hot stickiness settling on his sweaty skin. But it was okay if Noel hurt him, wasn't it, 'cause Noel thought he looked good, thought he was beautiful and that more than made up for it. He clung to that, let the rather generous approval run circles around his head till he was dizzy with the thought. Noel thought he was beautiful; Noel thought he was good.
"Noely."
Noel lifted himself from the crook of Liam's neck, looking at him, but there was that strange look in his eyes again. The dull blue sea hung low around the black of his eye, eclipsing it, and it felt like he was being pulled in by the towering waves. And drowning. He shifted (as much as he could; he was practically pinned) under his gaze, discomfort pricking at the back of his neck.
"Noel. D'you love me?"
Noel paused his movement, slowing to an idle drag of his hips. Traced his finger down Liam's ribs, spread his palm across his concave stomach. Circled his hands around his waist, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave faint bruises. "How could I not?"
Liam didn't feel the expected rush of warmth. He didn't feel any happiness swell inside. He felt an all too familiar twinge of queasiness sludge its way through his stomach, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than for Noel to get off of him, to stop touching him. But he didn't say anything, and Noel stayed right where he was.
Liam felt warm liquid fill him up as Noel continued to lazily thrust his hips forward, fucking his own come into him. He distantly thought he felt some dribble down his thigh and onto the bedsheets as Noel pulled out, leaving him clenching around the sudden emptiness. His stomach lurched, but of course nothing could come up.
Liam was the first to wake, stirring on his own bodily clock, only the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the blinds to aid his sight. He'd always been an early-bird, drawn to the quiet of the morning—or in this case the late hours of the night—only the sounds of nature flitting about to accompany him, and the moments of peace it offered, which seemed increasingly rare as of late.
It'd been two weeks since he'd last weighed himself, so he carefully eased himself out of bed, wincing at the raw soreness in his arse and the sensation of dried come plastered between his thighs, and padded over to the bog. Once dry and out of the shower, he stepped onto the scale with bated breath.
He gained a kilo and a half.
His heart sunk as the neon blue numbers flickered before his eyes. He stepped off of it and back on again, zeroing it out, thinking it surely must've just been a malfunction. He can't have gained. How the fuck would he? He'd been good. Laid off the pints, always left some food on his plate. Passed on meals in favour of water. And blow.
Those fucking numbers stayed the same, though, unblinking and smug. And his world came crashing down on him. Noel was gonna leave and join another band and he'd never come back, and why would he, anyway, now that Liam was a fat fucking cunt, and how many frontmen of a rock'n'roll band did he know were fat, he'd gone and fucked it all—
His shoulders trembled, and he briefly registered grasping onto the sink counter, trying and failing to hold himself up because he ended up sinking to his feet when he caught his reflection. The extra weight was already showing; he looked like a sad, bloated geezer. And Noel was just calling him beautiful last night. Must've been too fucking dark for him to see what a failure he'd become—but numbers don't lie. And Noel would see, and as soon as he did he'd throw him a disappointed but not surprised sort of look and leave without preamble. Like it was expected for Liam to lack self-control and discipline, unlike Noel who seemed to have everything figured the fuck out, always on top of things with his bloody wisdom. He'd be right, though, and Liam hated that—hated being seen as some drooling, incompetent child who didn't know when or how to stop, just a ticking time bomb to placate in the meanwhile.
His chest rose and fell in frantic bursts, and his breathing snagged as he gasped for air. It felt about as suffocating as the first time he'd choked on his own vomit, when he'd been sure that that was the way he'd go—laying in a puddle of his own filth with Noel beside him, looking on passively. But this time he was alone, and he wasn't choking on anything except for his own guilt and fear. Sobs wracked his body and he tried muffling his crying by burying his head in the crook of his arms, legs curled up in a defensive position. He hit himself, knocked against the sharp spots where his bones protruded but that wasn't enough of a comfort—was no good without Noel doing it for him, and now it was too late 'cause he can't fuckin' control himself.
A loud knock at the door startled him from his wallowing, and Noel called from behind, "Alright?"
Liam panicked, scrambling to lock the door, but it was too late, 'cause Noel had already pulled it open and seen him pathetically moping, all crumpled on the dirty bathroom floor. He must've looked like a sore sight, what with his puffy eyes and extra layers of fat clinging to his skin like congealed grease that wouldn't wash off no matter how hard he scrubbed. It was a weird, unfamiliar feeling for him—wanting to curl up inside of his own skin and hide. Hide from Noel's scrutinizing, watchful eyes, surely picking over each flaw—his too chubby fingers (sausage fingers, he'd called them), his soft belly (Noel once made him turn over 'cause he didn't wanna look at it—ruined the mood, he'd said), or his barely visible ribs (he can do better).
"'m sorry, I fucking failed—I'm up a kilo—I'm sorry, I don't know where I went wrong. I stuck to the diet, swear. Please don't go, please—" Liam blabbed, mostly incoherently, clinging onto Noel's shirt with wet, tear-stained fingers.
Noel just stared at him, silent for a beat. Probably assessing the pathetic state he's gotten himself into. He felt his breath blow against his hair as he sighed, before reaching to place his hand on the back of Liam's neck, gently caressing, his touch almost soothing if it weren't for the way his voice cut through the air, calm but with a certain exasperated edge to it that Liam attributed to his disappointment. "Right, calm down. You know why this happened, don't you?"
Liam shook his head adamantly, pulling his face from Noel's shoulder. "I fuckin' listened to what you been tellin' me—swear up and down. 'm not stupid, I wouldn't—"
"You want me to stay, right?" Noel interrupted, voice lowering as he narrowed in on Liam's face, blue meeting blue. "Want me to stick around?"
His heart hammered in chest and his throat suddenly felt too tight, like it'd been screwed shut. He managed to string together some semblence of a sentence, though, "Yeah—yeah, 'course I do. 'S all I want," and he could feel another wave of tears threaten to spill depending on Noel's reaction. Or response. Or maybe just Noel in general.
"Then don't let this happen again, yeah?" He grabbed Liam by the shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead and hushing his hiccuped sobs. Like how he used to comfort him when Liam was just a kid, running to his big brother after he'd scraped his knee or knocked a tooth loose. "You're alright, our kid, come 'ere. We'll sort it out. But I need you to listen to me, can you do that for us?"
Liam nodded his head into Noel's shoulder, unthinking and compliant, silently crying into his shirt. He trusted Noel—he had to—and he'd make everything better, like he always did.
"Good lad." He took a step back from Liam, grabbing his upper arm and pulling him back to bed with him, the sheets freshly changed and all. It felt like a heavy anchor had unhooked from the depths of his stomach, and now he was being swept away by surging waves and into the sanctity of the sea, foamy-white haze sliding over his vision.
Liam floated into Noel, following his lead. He felt a pair of arms drape over him as he let himself be taken under the waves as Noel sidled up next to him, dimly conscious of a heart beat against his back, fluttering and all-consuming. Felt the way his rib and hipbone dug into the mattress, the way his breathing synchronized with Noel's—when his chest rose, he felt Noel in tandem with him, like tides rolling in sync. He had Noel, and Noel had him, and everything would come to resolve. The universe had a plan; the universe was Noel. And the universe said I love you.