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Today marks the day Noel has ever tasted anything. The toll of touring had only served to numb his senses beyond any kind of perception, not even the familiar pleasures of cigarettes or alcohol could salvage the itch. Noel, in an attempt to break through the anxious haze, did the same thing over and over again hoping that each try would be different, but it was not. Nothing changes, and everything's the same. It had been… days? No, weeks. He had been motionless for weeks since he had left. Noel doesn’t think it’ll change, that feeling’s second nature now.
Though it had been something about this particular day in which all manner of the mundane had stopped making sense.
Has the morning air always been this warm? Since when did the lights start humming like that? Will it ever get easier?
The questions lingered in his head up until the moment he answered the front door, where you stood behind. He let you in; you stepped inside. He offered you tea, but you declined. He pressed, and you gave in. He brought up music; you asked him about it. Back and forth, and so on and so on. He mentioned a solo career; you’re curious. Noel thought that perhaps it had started from here, the moment when the mood had shifted. When you finished your tea, he couldn’t bring himself to wash off the lipstick stain on the cup. The same lipstick that painted the ends of two dead cigarettes on the ashtray. He asked if he could say something a little fucked up; you laughed in response. For a moment, your voice sounded like the sweetest sound in the world. God, were you always this pretty?
Noel asks if he can know what your lipstick would taste like, you agree, and then he devours you.
It became routine after a while, but this one did not hollow him out, not like before. He feels compelled, yet guilty.
He drank you up without fail and touched you like it was the first time. Hours upon hours of sweat and skin, yet still neither of you can get enough of it. The way he loses himself inside you, the way you ride him like there’s no tomorrow, the way your tits bounce up and down, the way your nipples perk up when he fondles them, the way you curve your spine when you're close, the way you freeze and twitch during your peak, the way your spit mixes with his like a love concoction that leaves him craving for more, the way you blush when he praises you for doing a good job, the way you swirl your tongue around his dick, and the way you give his tip a little kiss after he cums all over your mouth. It’s a damn lovely sight.
Now and then Noel thinks if he should stop. Noel is no stranger to affairs, but now, there’s a weight being pulled on him because he’s got a child. To be honest, he hasn’t done the infidelity thing in a while. It gets tense. The shame hits him like a drum, so as nonsensical as an idea as it is, he eventually starts opening up to you. His thoughts are put to a grinding halt when he sees that lipstick-stained cigarette dangling on your fingers, and those starry eyes staring into his, features which he has grown fond of. He relishes these moments, getting off at the sight of you coming down from that high, holding your tired body close despite the stickiness of the skin’s contact. It’s become one of his favorite parts of sex; it’s dangerous territory now.
“You’re pretty quiet, today.”
A flavorful kiss pulls him back into reality, flinging his head into a drunken stupor, a daze far heavier than any hit of alcohol ever could. He savors the taste, basking in it. It takes a while for Noel to register what you said but still, he does not say anything, he does not want to, not yet, not now. He speaks to you in tongues, literally. He does not care that his teeth clash against yours—he’s hungry.
“What do you want me to say then?” His breath presses like feathers on your skin, and you tremble. You bet that he could also feel your heart pounding so quickly. His body gently pushes you down the soft, wool, cushions of the sofa. Your hands rest on his shoulders, fingers rubbing his nape and stroking the ends of his hair. Noel’s other hand goes to hold your jaw, caressing your cheek with his thumb. His touch is so soft, yet practiced. It’s as if all those years of restraint haven't touched him since the peak of his stardom; hedonism has certainly lent itself to his experience. “Let me have you, just for now.”
He settles in the space between your collarbone and your throat. Your chest tightens as he begins to nip at the skin, which earns him a few mewls. His hands trail from your ribs down to your thighs, the heat emanating from his hands was enough to send a jolt down your spine. He breaks away from your neck to pull your jumper off so that he has more access. You dig your fingers further into his hair, slightly pushing his head closer to you just so you can feel his lips brush against you. Noel laughs, a sound that creates a wave of warmth that crashes on you. His rough hands squeeze down on the suppleness of your thighs, his fingers just barely brushing on the hem of your shorts.
“Can you hold me just a little longer?”
The windows sport a translucent curtain, which has noticeably greyed out a bit from the dust. Just enough for the sunlight to come in, but not too much that it is blinding. It’s just enough that it reflects the glistening saliva on your body. He peppers kisses across the valley of your breasts, then a tongue glides down your midriff. His hands hover over the inside of your thighs, inching closer to your aching cunt. A hand hovers over your breast and he switches between fondling and pinching your nipple. You whine when he pinches it, the spiking pain sends a wave of pleasure across your body, and you can almost feel your arousal drip each time. Noel utters curses under his breath against your skin.
Even when all barriers of clothing have been taken off, he still takes his time. His fingers are slow yet restless inside of you. He likes to tease, but your patience is already wearing thin. He kisses you on your forehead, then your nose, your lips, your jaw, your neck, your breasts, until he comes back around one more time to torture you. You feel him smile against your skin, and you whine at the unfairness. Then, as an apology, he kneels, kissing your inner thighs with so much reverence. He worships like you’re the only god there is.
“Don’t let me go.”
“I won’t.”
Feels nice to hear that, it makes your lungs burn up.
Is this salvation? This must be what it feels like.
“Fuckin’ hell, you taste heavenly.” You writhe, filled to the brim while Noel drinks you up. “I’d eat you every day if I could.”
The lines start to blur. There’s no difference between fucking and loving in here anymore. It was suffocating.
Your core stiffened, threatening to burst like a bubble the more he lapped up your juices, flicking up and down at a rapid pace. But Noel likes to tease, so he stops moving his tongue, and laughs.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya.”
The scene plays out like it always has for the past few weeks. A few improvisations here and there, but the premise remains the same.
“Fuck me, you’re beautiful.”
Noel groans when you dig your nails into his back, holding on to ease the pressure inside you. He prays, whispering a litany of obscenities in your ear as he slowly pumps in and out, in and out, in and out again.
Milk tears spill, and your skin blooms with bruises. Filling you up not just with overwhelming pleasure, but with feelings and emotions. He’s driving you crazy. You could stay like this forever, but one of these days, it will be the last.
You sigh, and then you cry.
But it’s alright.
This feeling will go away after a while, after all, it was never meant to last.