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He hammered into his body almost violently — Liam groaned hoarsely from these sharp, rough, almost painful thrusts, but still wailing for him not to stop. Noel isn't going to, instead of answering just tightens his fingers on his hip. They do it standing up in a utility room adapted to store tools. In fact, the two of them should be in the recording room right now, and he knows that he should not have been led by him, but this need is always stronger than the circumstances. Or caution.
Their band mates had already left the studio a long time ago, but Noel obsessively made Liam re-record the chorus for the thousandth time; although, to be completely honest, the first version was perfect. Noel just can't help it — he loves to make their cocky vocalist hoarse.
However, he gives him a little break by leaving him in the studio and goes out for a coffee, and when he returns, Liam is smoking in the hallway. Noel doesn't even have time to put down the coffee sleeves, nearly spilling their contents on himself, when he grabs him roughly and slams him against the wall, crumpling the collar of his shirt, biting into his lips so demandingly that he instantly hardens. Noel bites his lower lip, to which the younger swears, and then he drags him into this fucking dusty and stuffy back room.
It's dark in here, they did not manage to turn on the light. And he want to see everything — every detail, every emotion on his face, while fucking him like there's no tomorrow. Liam is trembling, his hands wrapping around his buttocks, sliding over his back and shoulders and back again and again. He pushes harder, finding the perfect angle, and Liam hits the notes Noel has been trying to get from him for hours on end. Hunger. It seems to Noel he's ready to swallow him without the ketchup. Too hot, too delicious, too much, but still not enough...
He leaves kisses and bites on his neck, runs along his jawline, sucks eagerly his earlobe. Liam hisses and spits out dirty talk. Noel picks him up and lifts him up, pressing him even tighter. Some fucking metal shit falls to the floor with a clang somewhere behind his back, but he don't give a fuck — neither of them can stop until they both get their climax.
“Harder, Noel…” Liam gasps, glaring at him with a challenge even though his eyes are watering. "Fuck me…"
"And what the hell am I doing, eh?" Noel's breathing is rapid, he can barely feel his legs.
"To hell with all of it." He snaps, almost loses touch with reality completely at the way Liam squeezes him inside — they both moan out loud from his tightness, and Noel for the first time in his life does not care at all that anyone can hear them. When did that stop them anyways? He speeds up and Liam throws his head back, his mouth drop open in a silent cry; if he passes out right now, Noel won't be able to hold him back.
In dense, suffocating darkness, all sensations seem even sharper, so that his ears pop with pleasure. Someday he will drive him crazy. With no one in this imperfect, sinful world, he felt anything even close to what was happening between them. At moments like this, they don't need words. Here and now they feel each other like never before.
His skin is delightful, a little bit salty and so damn hot that Noel is dying to kiss every inch of it forever like a possessed fanatic. Which he does, giving Liam another wave of shivers. And at this very moment, they hear it at the same time: the studio door opens with the noise, and then they hear voices.
Fuck!
Probably one of the lads came back to check if they killed each other.
Liam's wet blue eyes widen as Noel sees a reflection of his own rising panic in them. But his hips continue to move forward due to inertia — he just can't stop now. The kid sobs and Noel covers his mouth with his hand. His body is cramping — just a little more and it will all be over. The voices outside the door are getting louder and he makes a sign to Liam to be as quiet as he can. Although Noel himself does not believe it. But he still removes his hand.
Fingerprints are reddening on his smooth skin and Noel is ready to come from that alone.
The door to the recording room slams, and only then do they both exhale a little. When he can think clearly, he will need to think of some convincing excuse. But right now all he can think about is how hot and tight Liam is, and how his body trembles under his desperate possessive touch.
He could look at him for hours, and there is no better sight than when he brings him to its very peak. But now Noel has to let go of his hips and, without much ceremony, turns him back to him, immediately pushing him against the door. He groans and rests his hands to the sides of doorways, impatiently substituting himself for his caresses. But Noel is in no hurry. He teases him, slowly moving his glans around the entrance, and Liam, momentarily forgetting about his coolness, whines about how bad he wants him inside. Noel flashes electricity, his blood rushes to all parts of the body at the same time.
“If you ask for it, baby.” He whispers right into his ear as Liam gets goosebumps all over.
Forgetting that they aren't really alone, he cries out as Noel penetrates his heated, sensitive body again.
"Shh!" Noel hisses angrily at him, “Do you want to break the patterns? It is unlikely that this will be justified by coke."
"Then fuckin' stop pulling the cat by the balls, I need it ... now, you cunt."
Noel understands Liam perfectly; he himself is already at the limit. The body asks for only one thing — to get the desired release. And he always gets what he wants.
Their breaths and stifled moans are mixed into a sound that these walls have probably never heard before. The trembling gets worse with every move, and finally Liam screams for the last time. Noel squeezes rhythmically inside him and he can't help but moan too loudly. Nothing else is holding him back from his precipitous fall.
When they finished, they hastily try to regain a more or less decent look, which turns out to be not an easy task; Liam is bewailing that the elder tore off his button on his expensive shirt. Noel doesn't remember how it happened, but seething Liam gives him pleasure of a sort no less refined than what he experienced a few minutes ago.
As they cautiously emerge from their hiding place, the hallway is empty, but conversations can be heard from the studio — mostly something about the intricacies of mixing.
No cause for alarm. They didn't notice anything.
Noel breathe a sign of relief and scrutinizes Liam.
"Wot?"
“You have something on your lower lip, right there." Noel points at himself. “Pubic hair, I think."
"Suck it, twat." Liam snarls, but wipes his mouth anyway.
Noel, pleased as hell, breaks into a sadistic smile.
“Only after you, baby."
Liam sucks on his middle finger and releases it with a wet, smutty sound. Noel laughs uncontrollably. The world's best frontman gives a thumbs up, turns around and limps towards the recording room where the lively conversation is bubbling.
Noel can't deny himself the little weakness of staring at his delicious ass while he's not looking.
Judging by the walk, he won't soon forget this session.