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★ 1995.

the nineties weren’t about professionalism. the main thing was blowing the fucking roof off and having a good time, that was always the case with oasis.

you and noel found out you two were too much alike by accident, one night backstage after a gig. it started as a simple conversation, until he decided to bring up a wrong decision you had made with the scheduling — something that accidentally fucked with the whole day, though no one really minded. they were all high off their tits, and besides, what is more rock and roll than missing one interview for a magazine.

you had apologized, of course, and you knew it turned out to be not that big of a deal. that’s why when the words left noel’s mouth, you only smirked, nearly mirroring the one he had on his own lips.

the corner of his lips only grew when you quipped back, mentioning how he had fucked a note in a solo, something about his vision being too blurry to properly see the pedal.

what was a conversation that shifted into teasing disguising flirting, turned out to be messy kissing, your back pressed firmly against the wall of the corridor. minutes later, you dragging him by the hand until the pair of you sneaked into a broom room, knocking over cleaning bottles as his cock slammed inside you.

the nineties weren’t about professionalism. the main thing was blowing the fucking roof off and having a good time, that’s the reason no one minded how you and noel always dissapeared for a good hour or so at the parties — coming back with disheveled hairs and swollen lips, or not coming back at all, only showing up in the van the following day with purple marks on your necks.

everyone knew you were something. something messy, too fucking high and too fucking horny.

but behind closed doors, there were things pieces of information that only belonged to you two.

you quickly learned that if going too hard in doggy, you’d have annoying cramps for another two hours or so. noel quickly learned that the easiest way to make you whimper was by giving your face soft slaps, even though he didn’t really care for them at first.

you learned that noel liked black lingerie with lace. noel knew you liked having his fingers inside your mouth.

one night, especially high, you learned something new about noel — equally as much as he learned something about himself.

your shirt was tossed somewhere on the floor of your hotel room, while his was probably in some opposite corner. your skirt was fumbled up, your knickers already drenched from his mouth kissing yours and traveling down to your cleavage inside the elevator. while his trousers were half unzipped, his cock still fully hard from your hand lazily stroking him.

you plopped down the bed with a laugh, elbows propping yourself up despite your head feeling heavier. your eyes followed noel’s figure walking closer to your suitcase, leaning down and running a hand inside his hair, shifting the short of piece of hair that fell over his eyes.

“what color is it?” he asked, eyes focused on his hand shoving folded shirts out the way.

you laughed, “oi! no need to make a fucking mess of my clothes.”

even though his face was slightly turned away from yours, you could hear a soft huff coming from him. “what color is it?” he repeated, still lightly.

you let your back fall on the bed, arms sprawling over your head as your high made the room gently spin. “it’s a little pink and white bottle.”

you could hear the sounds of his hand searching for it, too lightheaded to pay too much attention to the sound slowly stopping. “it’s proper good, i swear. the saleswoman said your cock feels all tingly with it,” you explained, referring to the weed based lubricant you had gotten back at amsterdam.

your eyes only opened again when he had been too quiet for what felt like too long. once you did, you were met with the sight of him straightened up, a shit-eating smug expression on his face and your rubber dildo inside his hand.

your cheeks warmed up, but you laughed anyway. “oh.”

he laughed, eyes crinkling softly around the corners as he walked closer. “is that why you fancy me?” he started, wiggling the rubber material closer to your face, tossing the lube on the mattress. “cause i’m bigger than this?” he added, chuckling harder once you swatted his hand away despite being too busy laughing.

his knee sunk inside the mattress right beside your hip, slowly settling on top of you, a grin on his face matching yours and the dildo still inside his grip.

“don’t be a dick, it’s for when i’m lonely,” you explained, smiling as you tipped your head back, just so your neck was more exposed, allowing him to kiss it better.

“hm… is it?” he mumbled against your skin, teasing. “reckon you’re just greedy.”

you laughed, palm pressing over his chest and easily pushing him off. he plopped down on the mattress, too high to mind you standing up and walking towards your suitcase. his eyes landed on the rubber cock in his hand again, huffing and shaking his head to himself while you grabbed something from your bag.

“it’s also… for possible new experiences,” you started, shimmying off your skirt until you were only in your black laced lingerie. he smiled at the sight, droopy, his body swaying and his eyes heavy as he propped himself in his elbows to watch you move closer.

you held something in your hand as you stood in front of the bed, something black with thick stripes and a solid base. his head tilted, “what’s that?”

“this…” you started, reaching out and taking the dildo into your hand. placing a strand of hair behind your ear to unblock your vision, your hands quickly shoved your knickers down, easily stepping into the harness and placing the rubber cock into its holder. “is for this!” you said sweetly, hands settling on your hips, swaying them softly to the sides.

his head fell back with a laugh, eyes closing. “yeah, fuck right off, you.” he said with a light scoff, tone in disbelief.

you laughed, brows raising. “what?” you teased, giving him a slow spin. “think i look quite sexy, don’t you think.”

he shook his head, a droopy smirk on his lips as he reached out, grabbing a handful of your ass. “yeah,” he replied casually, leaving a loud smack on your asscheek. “now take this rubbish off, wanna fuck ya.”

you laughed, turning until your front was facing him again. his hand now was settled on your hip, fingers softly digging in as his eyes inevitably trailed down your body, admiring how pretty your tits looked inside the lacy bra, letting his hand slide over your stomach, fingers sprawling over the soft skin.

reaching out, your hand softly settled on the side of his cheek. “oh, cmon, noelly,” you cooed, letting your thumb brush over his bottom lip, dragging it down until the rosier flesh bounced back into its place. “show me how pretty i look.”

he scoffed, pushing your hand off his face, settling his palm over your hip and softly forcing you to take a step back. “if you think i’m gonna suck a rubber cock you’re out of your fucking mind,” he said, nearly defensively, despite still smirking.

you laughed. “cmon! it’s not like you haven’t done it with real ones, either…” your tone was sweet, but quieter. despite being just the two of you, it didn’t feel appropriate to repeat a secret he had told you in bed in a normal volume. it happened with the pair of you sweaty and giggling too hard after sex, sharing confessions, yours was something you had done back in uni, while his was something from his roadie days.

he huffed, eyes closing like that would make his cheeks blush less. his hand, though, moved to his own crotch, fingers curling around the outline of his hard cock strained inside the denim, like he was only adjusting himself. “yeah, stop fuckin’ around, bird.”

you giggled, leaning down until your mouth was on his, giving him a soft kiss — smirking at yourself as he greedily tried to slip his tongue inside, swallowing down a groan once you pulled away — before kneeling on the floor, looking up at him from between his spread thighs.

“i’ll show you how easy it is, hm?” you said softly, fingers curling inside the waistband of his trousers while your mouth placed a wet kiss on his lower belly, feeling the soft happy trail tickle the tip of your nose.

raising his hips and licking his lips so a smirk wouldn’t properly grow, his cock sprang free the second you dragged the fabric down.

you never knew what was prettier.

if it was his cock, big, heavy and warm inside your palm, with a big bead of precum smeared over his rosy head. it always felt velvet soft on your lips, always tinted in such a pretty shade of pink you wish you could find a lipstick like that.

or if it was him from his angle, his chest heaving no matter how badly he wanted to play it cool, a soft patch of hair that always smelled like soap covering his pale skin. his nipples were a light shade of pink, and he always moaned a bit louder when you’d lean down to give them messy licks no matter how much he pretended to be unaffected — the memory made you slowly take his length inside your mouth, smirking at yourself.

his hand settled on the back of your head, a low and raspy moan slipping past his parted lips. your cheeks softly hollowed as your head moved down, brows softly furrowing just like his. yours from the fullness, his thick ones from the warmth of your mouth he swore he could never get tired of.

you hummed around him, slowly bobbing your head as you looked up. even though his baby blue eyes didn’t quite meet yours, you couldn’t possibly mind. not when your gaze traveled across the cute little moles scattered all over his stomach.

your palms slid over his thigh, softly caressing the muscle as you sucked him without any rush. you were always self indulgent with it, to a point where sometimes he’d quietly tell you ‘come here’ just so he could properly fuck you before he came, just to give you back the same pleasure.

with a soft pop, your mouth let go of his cock. smirking to yourself at the feeling of his fingers twitching behind your head, you slowly stood back on your feet.

“see?” you spoke softly, letting your hand caress the side of his face, tilting your head as you looked down at him.

he sighed softly, letting his eyes flutter shut for a second before looking up at you. his hand settled on your hip again, fingers softly squeezing your flesh. “stop pissin’ about, yeah?” he started, brows furrowing. “just— let’s get it on with it already.”

you breathed out a laugh, head tilting as your fingers softly played his hair. “aw… bet you’d look so pretty, though,” you praised softly. his cock twitched despite the ‘fuck off’ expression painted across his face. your thumb shifted until it slid over his bottom lip again, “won’t tell a soul. you know i won’t.”

he scoffed lightly, letting his hand slide up your waist. “fuck me, you’re actually serious, aren’t you.”

“mhm…” you smiled, caressing his cheek. “deadly.”

he shook his head once, though he was still smirking. “right, then.” he said, wrapping a hand around the rubber cock pointed straight at his face.

then, he looked up. you had to bite down a smirk as he leaned closer, though your lips were too busy opening, his mouth slowly swallowing inch by inch of the toy without even breaking the eye contact.

fuck me, for a second, you wish you actually had a real one, just from how fucking pretty he looked like this. you could tell how the corner of his lip was softly curling up, the bastard still fucking smug even with a cock inside his mouth. you couldn’t blame him, though, because the sight was so pathetically arousing it sent a sensation through your body like you could actually feel it.

he pulled away just enough to speak, his slick lips still brushing the head while his hand shyly started to stroke the dildo. “this really does it for you?” he asked quietly, half amused and half disbelieving.

you blinked, fingers softly curling around the back of his neck. “you have no fucking idea.”

he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head to himself and muttering a small christ before leaning back in. this time, as his cheeks softly hollowed, his eyes fluttered shut. his brows furrowed for a moment at the warmth of your hand gently guiding him.

he pulled away shortly after, slightly breathless, cheeks flushed and his eyes glassy. a string of spit connected his slick lips to the toy when his hand reached up, curling around the back of your head as he pulled you down for a kiss.

your hand settled on his cheek, tongue sliding over his in that messy and lazy pace, the same one whenever when the high just felt too good. his hand only left you to clumsily shove the fabric of his trousers down his legs, while yours braced yourself on the mattress as you settled over him, your knees sinking into the bed between his legs.

your hands slid over his thighs, caressing the flesh and absentmindedly spreading them. he didn’t stop you, only kissed you harder, his own hands shifting until they cupped your breasts, groping them over the fabric.

your mouth shifted until it found his neck, pampering his flushed skin with wet and messy kisses, you could feel the soft straining of his muscles once his head tipped back with a low moan. you could feel his chest arching into yours, and for a second, his thighs pressing against your sides — the classic human silent gesture that says ‘please fuck me.’

with that, you let your mouth trail lower, sliding your hair off your face as you kissed his chest, looking up just to catch his reaction as you softly sucked his nipple before continuing your path.

“f-fuck, fucking tease,” he mumbled, fingers already tightening inside your hair even as your mouth had only reached his stomach.

you smiled against his skin, making sure to lick the patch of pre cum he had leaked over his soft lower belly. then, your lips wrapped around his tip, a breathy moan immediately escaping him as your tongue pressed firmly over his underside before you slowly took him further.

you pulled your mouth off of him with a wet pop, looking up at him while your hand reached for the lube. the sound of the cap opening made his adam’s apple bob, your brows raised softly in reassurance. “can i?” you quietly asked.

he inhaled deeply, licking his lips to cut himself off, like he was embarrassed of the answer. noticing it, you leaned down to give the head of his cock a gentle, wet kiss. “i’ll stop whenever you want.” you added, gently reassuring.

he exhaled, it hitched softly. “promise?” he asked quietly.

you nodded, placing another wet kiss on his cock, feeling it softly throb underneath your lips. “promise.”

his head fell back against the pillows with a ragged breath, jaw tightening for a second as his hand abandoned your face to wrap tightly around his own length, giving it a slow stroke from base to tip. “just— fucking get on with it before i change my mind, then.” he said quietly. a small, nervous and nearly boyish smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

you immediately beamed, kneeling between his thighs and squeezing some of the cold sticky lotion on your finger. his baby blue eyes followed you, heavy-lidded and glazed with a mix of the weed and anticipation. his hands reached behind, dragging a pillow underneath his head, feeling a thick drop of his pre cum falling over his stomach.

after smearing some of the lube on your palm, you wrapped your hand around his shaft, giving him slow strokes while your other one slowly slid down.

you watched his chest heaving, how his adam’s apple bobbed as he looked down to your hand slowly disappearing between his thighs while you kept a steady pace of stroking his cock up and down.

the pad of your finger pressed over his opening, drawing slow circles over it that made a shaky exhale slip past him. you licked your lips, too aroused by the scene, before shaking your head so your hair would be properly behind your shoulders, clearing the way so a drop of your spit could fall directly over the head of his cock, your palm quickly slicking his length even more.

“good?” you asked quietly.

he moved his head in a tiny nod, almost as nervous as his tone, quiet and stammering out a “y-yeah.”

slowly, you pushed your finger in.

you kept your eyes locked on his, watching every single micro-expression — the way his mouth immediately parted, inhaling a broken air, the way his brows drew together.

"jesus— fucking christ," he choked out, voice slightly cracking. his hips jerked upward on instinct, chasing the friction, his chest heaving as his head fell back.

you smirked wider at the sound, slowly fucking his hole with your finger. "feels alright, doesn't it?" you murmured quietly.

his reply was only a shaky breath, his eyes closing his legs involuntarily spread wider for you. he felt like if he actually said it, it would make it too real, but fuck me, you could feel his cock twitching inside your hand, watching his pre cum leak more and more until a thick string of it connected his tip to his soft happy trail.

eventually, you added another. earning another shaky gasp from him.

you leaned until your chest was pressed over his, letting your hand go of his cock for a second, the angle made it a bit hard to multitask, but your fingers were still inside him. your mouth found his jaw, kissing it slowly while your kept softly filling him up.

“look so pretty like this, noel,” you praised, feeling his jaw move underneath your touch as his lips spread in another needy gasp. you smiled to yourself, shifting until your mouth was on his, curling your knuckles to hit the spot you had noticed it made his chest arch a bit more. “gonna look so fit taking a cock.” you added, barely above a whisper.

his cheeks were a violent shade of red, brows furrowed in pleasure no matter how embarrassed. “f-fuck off.” he tried, without any bite to it simply from how his body was reacting.

then, very slowly, you pushed in another one. this time, he couldn’t stifle in a needy moan, high pitched and shaky in a way it made his cheeks burn, though his back arched off the bed.

you breathed out a fond laugh as your back straightened. “you want it?” whispering, slowly withdrawing your fingers from him.

you could already tell he was already missing the fullness. from the way his breath hitched, how his eyes looked so needy, pupils blown out as he looked down. but he only nodded, like properly saying it would be over the line. “just— slow.”

your hand wrapped around him once more, sliding your thumb over his leaking slit before smearing him down. “course, baby,” you said sweetly, biting down another smirk as his head fell back against the pillow again. “gonna fuck you nice ‘n proper, yeah?”

slowing down your strokes just so you could focus, your free hand reached for the lube. properly slicking the toy before guiding until the blunt head towards his entrance, your hand began to move up and down on his cock again to make him relax.

despite slow, at the feeling of the dildo being pushed in, even if it was only a centimeter, his hands shifted until he dragged the pillow over his face. it couldn’t hide how his chest moved up and down in shaky pants, or how his cock violently throbbed against his belly once you let it go just to rub his inner thighs reassuringly.

you slowly bottomed out. so slow you could swear he’d cum with his cock untouched at any second, just from how it violently throbbed with every inch of your strap stretching him out. the second you pulled back just to move, his knuckles gripped the pillow so harshly they turned white. a strangled moan being muffled into the soft material.

you smirked, setting a slow pace and wrapping your palm around his shaft, while your free one slid up his belly, fingers softly curling around once you reached his nipple.

he shifted the pillow off his face, like he’d die if he didn’t watch the scene with his own eyes. his cheeks were nearly as red as his lips, slick with his own spit and slightly swollen from biting. his hair was messier now, almost as messy as his thick brows, some of the short hairs in different directions.

“yeah? feels good?” you said gently.

he moaned, deep from his chest. “look so—fucking good like this,” he said, with struggle, trying so hard to keep his eyes open, focused on you fucking him despite his head spinning from pleasure.

you smirked, couldn’t help it. “yeah? i look good when im fucking you, hm?” tone sweet as your wrist softly twisted, stroking from the base to his leaking tip, while your other hand rolled his pretty pink nipple between your finger. your hips remained focused, hitting the spot that made him hold his eyes from rolling back.

his head dropped back, a rough “fuck” escaping him. he nodded eagerly, hands gripping the soft pillow beside his head.

even though you couldn’t properly feel it since… well, it’s not your actual cock, you could swear you could cum at the sight alone.

even though noel couldn’t care less about going to the gym, there were still times you could catch the way the muscles of his biceps tensed underneath his skin.

right now, you could see it, as well as the patch of hair underneath his armpits and the one over his heaving chest.

all of it reminded you of the masculinity he desperately wanted to hold onto. it reminded you how much stronger he is, making you stroke his cock faster, like the memory of him proving it to you many times — holding your jaw firmly so you wouldn’t look away from his eyes as he fucked you, before manhandling you over the mattress as he pleased — sent a wave of arousal straight through your body.

and yet, here he is. the one who’s taking it for a change, and god, he looks so fucking pretty as he does so.

warm huffs escape his nose, while incoherent babbles that turned into shaky grunts slipped out from his mouth. he kept nodding needily as you quietly talked, even though sometimes you didn’t even ask him proper questions, only teasing little ‘yeah?’ that really meant ‘like this, huh?’

feeling his cheeks burn at the mental image of himself letting go like this, he dragged the pillow over his face again. you could see how hard his fingers digged inside it, and you could still hear the soft ‘ah ah ah’s’ leaving his lips as he sounds of your skin slapping his become faster.

“don’t hide, baby…” you said quietly, sweetly, knowing the praise would only make him more embarrassed and more turned on. “you’re takin’ it so well, noel… look so, so pretty.”

throwing his head back, he started babbling, eyes closing tightly until a stray tear from pleasure clinged over his lashes dampening the pillowcase in a tiny wet spot. “don’t stop— fuck, ‘m gonna— oh, fuck. please don’t stop. don’t stop, don’t stop,” he chanted needily, breathy, too lost into it to drag his voice back down into his usual lower pitch.

too lost in it to keep the pillow firmly over his flushed face, not managing to protest when you reached out to shift it out of the way.

throwing his head back, noel bit his bottom lip so harshly he could feel the faint taste of blood slowly sneaking into his mouth. they parted, his breath coming out in short and shaky bursts, helplessly moaning as his balls tightened.

your hand was slick as it slid down to his balls, his shaft pressed against his belly as you caressed it, messily touching him and immediately earning hot spurs of his cum landing on his belly, his face contorting in pleasure. his orgasm washed through him in a way he’d never felt before, and you swore he had never looked prettier. he had came so hard you could see white streaks nearly reaching his chest.

he lays there panting for another second, chest heaving like he’s just run three miles up a hill. his eyes are tightened shut, he blinks them in that dazed, cute manner as he opens them, staring up at the ceiling. his hands are still clutching the crumpled pillow by his ears, like he’s trying to anchor himself to the mattress so he doesn't float right up off the bloody bed.

“fuckin’— hell,” he wheezes out, voice entirely wrecked, raspy and thick in a way that makes your stomach flip all over again.

you pull back with a soft laugh. then, sliding the strap off your hips with a quiet rustling sound. you drop the thing onto the mattress and crawl up the bed, sliding right into his space, pressing your bare chest against his warm, slick skin.

a heavy, nearly exhausted sigh rattles out of his mouth, arms instantly coming up and wrapping right around your shoulder, dragging you down until your face is buried right against the crook of his neck.

you can’t help but laugh against his skin, pressing a kiss there before you tease. “you alright there?” you murmur against his skin.

noel huffs a breathless huff into your hair. “shut up.”

his head tips back as you quietly laugh, letting your hand caress his chest. before he can reach for a cigarette, his head props up, looking down at you. “did you cum?”

you shake your head, offering him a soft, knowing smile.

he sighs softly, nearly blissful, his hand blindly reaching out for the little pink and white bottle on the sheets, popping it open with his thumb and smearing the cool, tingling lube thick over his thick fingers. “next time,” he starts before shifting his weight, guiding his slick fingers right between your legs. “i’m gonna be the one fucking your arse.”

you let out a breathy laugh, hands tangling in his messy hair as you spread your thighs, looking down at his fingers pushing into your entrance.

“deal,” you say.

christmas of 1991 is easily the worst christmas you’ve ever celebrated. a few weeks earlier, you had imagined it perfectly in your head. you’d get to come home to manchester and spend the holiday with noel and liam, and split time between baking christmas biscuits with your mum and helping peggy decorate their place.

but now, you’re sat in your bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. your room looks exactly the way you’d left it in september, albeit emptier, as you’ve barely unpacked any of your clothes that you’d toted back from london.

clack.

you know exactly what that sound is and who’s outside your window. it’s liam, standing in your garden, throwing handfuls of gravel. and if your dad wouldn’t kill you over the scratches on the glass, you would’ve ignored him completely.

instead, you make your way to the window, pushing it open. the chill rushes in, hitting your face instantly.

“what d’you want?”

a wide grin breaks across his face, “well if it ain’t the ghost of christmas fuckin’ past!”

—

the park feels a lot like a graveyard, all bare trees, not a bird in sight. you’re sat on the edge of a picnic table, your boots on the little bench, while liam paces a small circle in front of you.

he’s already halfway through a four-pack of lager, “when you comin’ round then?”

you snort, cracking open your own can, “try never.”

“mam’s doin’ the decorations tomorrow,” liam says, “she’s got a tin of biscuits the size of a fuckin’ tractor wheel and she’s been moanin’ that she’s got no one to help ‘er with the tinsel.”

“and you can’t help her because…?”

he scowls, “she says i’m too clumsy.”

—

liam had promised you that noel would be out of the house and you took his word for it. you let yourself in through the kitchen door, because why wouldn’t you?

peggy is standing at the counter, her back to you, wrestling with a massive, battered tin of biscuits.

“liam, why don’t you–”

but as she turns, she realizes you’re obviously not liam. she lights up, absolutely beaming. 

“oh, love! look at you!” peggy cries, nearly dropping the tin on the counter. she wipes her hands on her apron and rushes over, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.

then the sound of liam coming down the stairs cuts through. he patters into the kitchen, looking far too pleased with himself. he’s carrying a cardboard box that’s seen better decades, overflowing with tangled strings of lights and some questionable tinsel from the early eighties. he stops by the table, dropping the box with a heavy thud.

the three of you sit around the table, talking about everything. you talk about the library, the noisy neighbors, and the way the tube smells in the morning. you carefully avoid mentioning the nights you spent staring at the telephone or how the last few weeks are the worst you’ve ever felt.

when liam goes to dig out a stepladder for tree-decking purposes, the back gate opens. the back door swings open, bringing a gust of december air with it.

and noel just stands there.

he stares at you, and then the biscuits on the table, the tinsel laid out, the empty chair next to you.

"alright," he mutters.

“you’re home early,” peggy says, reaching for the teapot. “i thought you were in town with the lads.”

“meeting was a bust,” he finally steps inside and lets the door click shut. 

before it can get any worse, liam comes back into the kitchen, ladder in tow.

“d’we start from the top and work our way—” he stops dead, “oh, fuck.”

“you said he was in town,” you speak up, keeping your eyes fixed on liam, who is suddenly very interested in the hinges of the stepladder.

noel doesn’t look at you, already walking toward the cupboards to grab a mug.

“didn't realize i needed a permit to come into my own kitchen,” he says, his voice dripping with that defensive sarcasm you used to think was endearing, “decorating, are we? making things look all nice and pretty for the holidays?

“i was just helping your mam,” your voice comes out all quiet.

"helping," noel repeats, ”right. noble of you, innit? coming back from the big city to show us how the common folk do christmas."

—

and somehow you end up at mass on christmas eve, at liam’s request. 

“just come.”

“why the fuck would i do that?”

“because if i have to listen to father what’s-his-fuckin’-name drone on, so do you.”

and you suck it up. and you go. and you end up between liam and noel, wishing you believed in god. because if you did, then you’d think everything happens for a reason.

but there’s no reason you should be shoulder-to-shoulder with noel on christmas eve wearing some stupid dress and some stupid tights.

“peace be with you.”

“no, peace be with you,” liam can’t be serious for more than thirty seconds at a time.

and when liam releases your hand from a ridiculously tight grip, you just look at noel’s outstretched hand and shake your head.

he half-smiles, “c’mon, it’s christmas.”

and you miss peggy’s face when you give noel the laziest, most placating handshake.

—

“oh, come off it. everyone’s hungover on christmas. workin’ class tradition, that is.”

you sigh, but you don’t turn around. the pub’s going to be packed wall-to-wall and the last place you want to be is anywhere noel is.

“fuck it. fine.”

and that’s how you find yourself crammed into a corner booth at the local, the air so thick with cigarette smoke and damp winter coats it makes your eyes water. the speakers are rivaling the roar of forty blokes from the estate, and every time the pub door opens, a blast of freezing december wind cuts through the heat, smelling like wet pavement.

it’s quite sweet actually. the way everyone goes to church for christmas to appease their families, goes out in their stiff clothes, and gets absolutely off their face.

“missing london then?”

you don’t have to look over. the voice and the smell of a benson is enough.

“fuck off.”

“y’look good in a dress. just thought you should know that.”

“don’t,” you sigh, "don't do that.”

he nods slowly and leans against the bar next to you. it’s quiet because there’s absolutely nothing to say.

his jaw works silently for a moment and then, “i miss you.”

okay, maybe everything does happen for a reason.

and you let him buy you another pint.

and another pint.

and then you’re both laughing.

—

and you’re still laughing when you stumble through the front door. liam probably won’t be back for hours. peggy’s at her sister’s. or somewhere. there’s too many fucking gallaghers.

and you’re laughing while noel kisses you like nothing’s ever changed and nothing’s ever gone wrong.

getting into bed is a right mess, tights strewn over the edge of his bed, noel a steady weight above you.

“how are you still this fuckin’ cold?” he laughs against your neck.

you shudder under him, arching your back just enough to press yourself completely into his warmth, your hands slipping under his jumper to find the familiar, solid line of his ribs. his skin is burning hot.

“i dunno,” you giggle, “just fix it.”

he grins, “you want me to fix it?”

you nod, your two stupid grins matching. noel slides his warm hands under the fabric of your dress, hands on your hips.

“god, i can’t believe you never let me fuck you.”

you pin him with a look.

“i can’t believe you never let me make love to you,” he rolls his pretty blue eyes.

you let out another breathless, giddy laugh, but the sound dies in your throat as his thumbs press deep into the soft skin of your hips. that sobers you right up.

“you sure?”

you nod, the soft movement of your neck careful.

he kisses you so softly that you feel like you’re about to stop breathing, your hands tangling in the fabric of his sweater.

the feeling of him pressing himself against your center is fucking dizzying, the rough denim of his jeans pinning you underneath him. his tongue slides against yours, wet and insistent. you pull him closer, and this is exactly what you’ve always imagined with noel.

perhaps you had imagined it sober, a bit sweeter, and without the underlying tension. but there’s not time to think about any of that when his calloused fingers dip inside your knickers.

he instantly feels how slick you are, wet and hot, “fuck.”

and maybe it’s the way your head is spinning, and the fact that he smells like noel. like home. “i love you.”

he freezes and then nods, two fingers sliding inside easily, “i know. i love you too.”

you let your eyes flutter closed, letting yourself feel the pliant stretch of yourself against his fingers.

his fingers move inside you, slow and deliberate, curling in a way that makes your hips jerk. you gasp, clutching at his shoulders, and he breathes a laugh against your throat.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit in lazy, wet circles, “c’mon.”

you’re already so close, all that missing and aching and wanting spilling over. he always was good at making you cum. 

his nose gently nudges the hollow of your throat, “c’mon.”

you can’t even answer him, the words turning into a broken, high-pitched whimper as the friction builds, sharp and white-hot. 

"yeah," he grins, cooing, "yeah, there. fuck, i know.”

the satisfaction in his voice is heavy, a low vibration against your throat that sends a whole new wave of heat straight to your cunt. your hips roll frantically into his palm, chasing that release.

and then… nothing. his fingers leave you empty with a wet pop.

“noel, what the fu—”

you open your eyes abruptly to find him settled between your thighs, looking up at you. he’s kneeling between your knees now, his hands sliding up to grip your thighs, spreading you wider.

then his mouth is on you, kissing at the soft mound of your cunt before his tongue laps at the spot his thumb has just abandoned.

a sharp, violent shiver racks your entire body, your hips coming up to meet his mouth as your hands fly straight to his hair. you try to pull him up, to make him stop because the sensation is entirely too much, but noel doesn't budge.

he keeps his heavy hands clamped around the back of your thighs, holding you wide open for him, unbothered by the way you’re writhing.

he’s relentless, his tongue sliding against you in long, wet, deliberate strokes that have your head rolling back into the pillow, your throat raw from the breathless noises you’re making.

“noel, please,” you gasp out into the dark, your back arching so high off the mattress that your knees shake.

one of his hands frees itself, coming back to your dripping entrance, the same two fingers finding their way back inside, the sound obscene.

the slick, heavy friction of his fingers moving deep inside you while his tongue sweeps over your clit completely shatters whatever control you had left. he drinks in every single sound you make, his tongue speeding up, matching the quick rhythm of his fingers. the heat is overwhelming, a pressure building so fast behind your eyes that the room starts to tilt.

he tears his tongue away from you, his fingers still pummelling your cunt with every twist of his wrist.

“let me fuck you,” his voice is husky, raw.

“noel—”

“please,” he begs, the moonlight glinting against his wet chin.

“please. i’ll never fuckin’ leave again. i need you. please.”

“is that really—” you let out a little gasp, “the best idea?”

his fingers stop moving, and he sits up, looking down at you. then he gets up off the bed, kneeling so he’s looking up at you.

“the best idea?" he repeats, his voice rough and gravelly, cutting straight through the heavy quiet of the bedroom. his chest is heaving under his jumper.

“i don’t give a toss about a good idea,” he pulls you to the edge, resting his face on your bare thigh, “just let me in. i-i’m sorry. i’m so fuckin’ sorry, you have no idea.”

your hand slides under his chin, turning his head to face you fully. his eyes are glassy, lips red and wet.

you lean down to kiss him, nodding, “okay. yeah… okay.”

he swallows hard, “did you… in london?”

“no,” your voice is impossibly gentle, “god, no.”

noel buries his face back into the soft skin of your thigh for a long, quiet second, his shoulders dropping as the agonizing tension finally melts out of him.

“thank god,” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick.

he pushes himself up, slowly getting his belt undone, gently pushing his boxers and jeans down and then off.

he climbs back onto the mattress carefully, the springs letting out only a soft groan as he shifts his weight. the winter draft brushes over the room again, but the moment he settles right back between your legs, the heat of his body drives the chill away.

“gonna be gentle,” he murmurs, his voice a whisper against your lips. he rests the hot tip of himself against you, his body shaking with the effort it takes to hold himself back. “i won’t hurt you, i swear. just tell me to stop if it’s too much, alright?”

and then, with a slow, careful tilt of his hips, he begins to push inside you.

he only gets the very tip of himself in before your muscles clench in a blind, instinctive panic. you wince, your nose wrinkling slightly.

he stops immediately, hips staying exactly where they are, “hey. hey, hey. you're okay.”

noel gently kisses the side of your face, “d’you need me to stop?”

"no," you shake your head, “just... give it a second."

he stays frozen, his brow furrowed, scanning your face like he’s trying to read a map he’s never seen before. he’s taking the “gentle” part seriously, his breathing ragged and heavy, his weight held carefully on his forearms so he doesn't crush you.

"y’sure?" he asks again, softer this time, his thumbs brushing soothingly against the curve of your hip.

"yeah," you breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders to pull him just a little bit closer. "i'm sure. i promise."

he lets out a shaky breath, clearly relieved, and presses a lingering kiss to your temple. then, he begins to move again, slow, agonizingly deliberate inches. as he slides deeper, filling you completely, the panic dissolves into a dizzying rush. he watches you, his eyes searching, waiting for any sign of discomfort, but when he sees the way your head falls back against the pillow and your hands tangle into his hair, his jaw finally unclenches.

"there," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough rasp against your skin. "you're alright."

he starts to set a rhythm, careful and steady, his movements measured as if he’s scared to break you. it’s everything you wanted, and everything you’ve missed.

"god, you’re so tight," he rasps, his voice breaking as the rhythm shifts. the careful, gentlemanly pretense is completely gone.

you’re gasping, your breath coming in jagged, desperate hitches. he’s hitting that spot, and you’re clawing at the sheets, your nails digging into his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself. the sound of him, the wet, rhythmic slapping of skin, fills the small room.

"look at me," he demands, his voice a low, gravelly growl. he pauses, just for a second, locking his gaze onto yours. he doesn't wait for an answer. he just slams back into you, deeper this time, faster, his hips grinding against yours in a way that sends a wave of heat straight through you.

you can feel your control slipping, fraying at the edges. you’re a mess of tangled limbs, sweat, and breath, his mouth on your throat, his teeth grazing your skin, his pace relentless. he’s panting now, a heavy, ragged sound, his muscles tense as he pushes himself further, clearly fighting to keep it together just as much as you are.

"that's it," he grunts, his hands clamping onto your hips to hold you down, pinning you against the bed as he buries himself inside you until you’re unraveling, your hips twitching and trying to meet him, needing the friction, needing him.

the pressure inside you peaks, a rising heat that has you whimpering his name as your vision narrows. he sees it. he feels it. the way you begin to tighten around him, the way your body begins to shudder. and he stops fighting his own restraint. he thrusts into you once, twice, three times, each one deeper, his face pressed against your shoulder as he finally lets his own control shatter.

"yeah," he pants, his voice a broken rasp against your skin, "yeah, love, just like that."

—

the aftermath is a slow, hazy descent back to earth. the room feels impossibly quiet now.

noel stays heavy against you for a long time, his face buried deep in the crook of your neck. he smells like sweat, cigarettes, and that familiar scent of the gallagher house that has haunted you for months.

when he finally pulls back, his movements are uncharacteristically tender. he gathers you up, his arms wrapping around you with a protectiveness that makes your chest ache.

there’s a brief, shared rinse in the shower down the hall, a shared towel, and several tentative little kisses.

back in noel’s room, you pull on one of his soft cotton tees, the fabric ending at the top of your thighs. 

“noel, come here,” a content smile crosses your face as you pad over to the window between beds, watching a flurry of snow blow underneath the street lights.

his arms wrap around you from behind, warm and steady, “maybe we’ll get snowed in, hm?”

“in manchester?” you turn in his arms to giggle at him.

he looks like he’s thinking, really thinking, “stranger things have happened in manchester.”

you rest your head on his shoulder, “you’re so stupid.”