Work Text:
It’s an established fact, of course, that Liam’s a fucking nutcase. For some fucked up reason the cunt feels the need to keep proving it to Noel, every single day.
“Your brother reeks, fuckin’ hell,” Bonehead’s muttered complaint as he sidled up beside him at the bar had been the first hint that something was off.
“What’d’ya mean?”
Bonehead had gestured vaguely behind them with his head. “Lad’s definitely going into heat at some point in the next day or so. Back there stinkin’ up the place and offering himself up on a bloody platter.” Then he’d given him a look, as if to say, rein in him, mate. Because that’s what he is in everyone’s eyes, isn’t he? Liam’s fucking keeper.
Bonehead was right, of course. His idiot fucking twat of a little brother had left the house without so much as a scent-blocker to curb his pheromones, let alone remembered to take his sodding heat suppressant. The smell of his pre-heat hit Noel like a slap in the face, heady and overwhelming. Christ.
It’s like the scene of a crime. Liam is front first up against a wall, back arched, arse pressed up against some random Alpha whose hands are roaming up and down his sides as he whispers summat in his ear. From this angle Liam’s eyes are all glassy and vacant and he’s clearly not on this planet anymore, our kid. Other Alphas are standing about, too, all eyes glued to his little brother, lustful gazes stuck on him, as if they’re waiting for their turn. Noel wouldn’t be shocked if that was in fact the case, if Liam was letting all the blokes take turns.
One second the Alpha is having a grand old time, practically dryhumping his little brother, and in the next second he’s laid flat on his back on the grimy pub floor, blood oozing from his - likely now broken, if the sickening crunch! Noel heard when he punched him was anything to go by - nose, groaning in agony.
Noel doesn’t wait for the cunt to get back up on his feet, certainly doesn't wait for Liam’s leering audience to fully process what’s just happened. He’s out of there in a flash.
Liam’s still on some other distant planet, murmuring utter nonsense into his ear as Noel drags him out of the place. Last thing Noel hears is the fuck you do tha for?! from the bloke on the floor, nasally and pathetic.
He doesn’t loosen his grip on Liam, hand gripped around the back of his sweaty neck, even when they’re outside on the mostly empty street. Heat radiates off of his brother in suffocating waves, almost choking him.
He brings them to an abrupt stop on some dodgy backstreet, tightens his grip on Liam’s neck punishingly.
“What the fuck do you think yer doin’?! What were you thinking? Fucking hell! If Bonehead hadn’t told me that you - were you just gonna - ? With some randomer in a fucking pub - ?!”
Liam’s answering smirk increases his anger tenfold. A breathy “yeah,” is all he gets for a verbal response.
“Yeah?” Noel grits his teeth. “Is that it? Fuckin’ yeah? You were gonna let some filthy stranger shag you in front of everyone? Like a fucking slag?”
“‘Course not,” he shakes his head, eyebrows knitting together in mock outrage. “Said he’d take me back to his gaff. Got class, me.”
“Yeah. Class,” Noel repeats, deadpan. “Only went and forgot to take his heat suppressants. Bent right over and ready to take it from some drunk cunt in a pub. Proper fuckin’ classy, that, yeah.”
“Didn’t forget.” That stupid smirk is still in place. “Just lettin’ nature take its course, yeah.”
Nowt wrong with that, Noel thinks. Consistent use of heat and rut suppressants doesn’t do the body many favours in the long run, that’s what all those clever scientists and doctors and researchers say anyway. According to all of them, occasionally nature does need to be allowed to take its course.
Noel’s anger doesn’t dissipate, though. Not even by a fraction. And he can’t fucking voice the real reason he’s fuming, can barely admit it in the safety of his own head, so he goes the Protective Big Brother route instead.
“Right, yeah, nature. You’re well mature, aren’t ya? Really thinking things through? You were about to fucking give it up to someone you don’t even fucking know,” he scoffs. “That’s fucking dangerous, Liam. You do realise that could’ve gone really fucking wrong, god knows what STI’s the bloke’s got. What if he bit ya? Got ya pregnant? That’s the band done. Or what if you changed your mind? What if he tried to force you - ?”
“No one’s forcing me.” Liam looks truly outraged for the first time that night, and Noel’s reminded of the many times that his brother has clobbered an Alpha who tried to cop a feel without his explicit permission and desire. Yeah, he’s right, no one’s forcing him.
“Still fucking dangerous,” Noel snaps.
“I’m not stupid,” Liam glares at him. “Done it before. Don’t let ‘em knot me, make sure they pull out and all.”
Noel’s eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. He doesn’t want, doesn’t need that visual. Doesn’t want to picture someone - anyone at all - knotting Liam, or pulling out before they do or whatever the fuck. He exhales a shaky breath.
“You’re a cunt,” is his final word on the matter. As if that’s anything new.
*
Apparently, right, prolonged periods of stress and anxiety can severely impact a child’s development. So, instead of presenting at 15 like most normal kids do, Noel didn’t pop his knot till he was 19.
Liam had somehow convinced everyone that he was gonna be an Alpha. Loud as he was, brash as he was. You look up the word confident in the dictionary and you’ll find a picture of his little brother. A personality almost entirely made up of pure Alpha traits. But then he went and presented as an Omega at 15, bang on time, unlike Noel.
Noel had only been an Alpha for a year when Liam presented. Only a year of navigating it all, getting used to it, figuring it all out. He was getting the hang of it, too. Just about. And then Liam’s presentation threw a massive fucking spanner in the works. Because that wasn’t meant to happen. Liam was meant to be an Alpha, too. Like him, like bod. Like all the other men in the family tree. Typical Liam, just needing to be different, even if this time round it was through no fault of his own.
*
It’s the following morning and they’ve got a studio session booked in. Fully in the throes of his heat now, Liam stays in the hotel.
The cunt’s still insisting on not using his suppressants, still bent on letting nature take its course. Bloody nonsense.
He’s only in his boxers, the smell of his heat permeating every nook and cranny of his hotel room. Noel needs some fucking pegs for his nose.
He thinks of mam. His promise to her, to keep his little brother safe. You know what Alphas are like, Noelin, you keep a close eye on ‘im, alright? You’re all he’s got.
He clears his throat. “Ya need anythin’ ‘fore we go?”
“Noel.” It’s a simple breathy iteration of his name and it does wonders for his mood. Somehow makes him angrier and dissipates his anger all at once.
He swallows, takes a deep breath. “What?”
Noel can see the beads of sweat on his forehead. His limbs are all splayed out on the bed, like he’s suffering through a heatwave. And, well, he sort of is, internally. “Noel,” he repeats uselessly.
“What?”
The smell in the room thickens somehow, becomes stronger, and Liam’s pathetic whimpering makes Noel’s throat tighten. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He can’t leave him. He can’t just fucking -
“Liam, you know it’s not too late to take your suppressants, they’ll kick in - ”
“Don’t want no fuckin’ suppressants,” Liam whines, struggling to sit upright in the bed. “Want you, Noely. Want-want an Alpha.”
It’s as if the entire world falls apart around Noel. All of a sudden he’s transported back to their little bedroom in Burnage, to when Liam was younger and even more stupid than he is now, a freshly-presented Omega, shamelessly spreading his legs for Noel and begging to be bred, not listening when Noel hissed at him to shut up, shut the fuck up, I’m your brother, we’re brothers, you sick fuck, you can’t say that, you can’t say that out loud. Can I say it in my head, then, Noely? Fucking shut up.
“Noel,” Liam’s choked whimper of his name pulls him right back to the present, and he feels his resolve start to crack, his willpower weakening. The same willpower he’s been honing for years, steadily building upon, adding strong foundations to, for fucking years, fuck. And Liam’s already been doing his best to chip away at it for years, too, trying to tempt Noel into committing the greatest sin possible. Like some sort of evil siren. Fucking hell.
“We can’t,” he hears himself say, even though he’s on the bed now, fuck, when did that happen? When’d he get on the bed? His kecks are still on but they’re undone, unbuttoned, fly down. And Liam’s pulling him close, over his own body, his eyes glazed over, baby blues barely visible, obscured by dilated black pupils. “Liam, we fuckin’ can’t.”
“Need you, Noely,” he whispers it against Noel’s open mouth, bites his bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth, wraps his bare legs around Noel, effectively trapping him. Evil fucking boy.
“You need to fucking take yer suppressants,” he hisses, then he kisses him hard, presses him into the mattress, swallows his pleased moan. He can’t stop now, can’t take it back, would rather fucking die than stop kissing Liam’s soft, wet lips, his inviting mouth, hot and velvety inside.
Liam’s frantic now, hands scrambling to undress Noel, almost ripping off his shirt, uselessly pulling at his kecks, too weakened by heat to take them off without help. “Need it, Noely, need yer cock,” he pants, almost sounding panicked. Like he’ll die if Noel doesn’t give it to him.
Noel feels dizzy. He chucks his clothes somewhere behind him, takes Liam by the lips again, kisses him silly.
When Liam’s boxers are off Noel feels lightheaded again, can’t take his eyes away. Liam’s so wet it’s almost ridiculous. His inner thighs are soaked with it, slick dampening the sheets. When Noel touches him there he feels a shiver run down his spine, like he’s the one being touched; he feels fucking powerless against the urge to bury his face there, to inhale, to swallow him whole, lick him out until he screams himself hoarse. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin’-” He bends down, nose only centimetres away.
The noise Liam makes when Noel licks a stripe up his cunt is a noise he wants to hear for the rest of his life; wants it to be the only noise he ever has to hear again. Wants the tangy wetness on his tongue to be the only taste his tongue will know hereafter.
And when Liam comes on his tongue - embarrassingly quick, but then again, he is in heat - it’s with Noel’s name on his tongue, and Noel thinks his name is the only name that should ever be on Liam’s tongue.
He comes back up, kisses Liam, the taste of him still invigorating his senses. He feels Liam’s hand in between their bodies, and when he looks down he sees that two of Liam’s fingers are pressed to his clit. Greedy fucker, already up for it again barely 2 minutes later.
“Do this all the time,” he pants, legs wrapping around Noel’s waist. “Think about - think about you, Noely, th-think about you pushing me down, making me take it-”
Noel’s stomach clenches hard enough that he’s in pain. “Liam-”
“And when all them other Alphas fuck me, think about you then, too,” his fingers move faster, and Noel watches, entranced, as more slick dribbles out of his entrance. “Close me eyes, pretend it’s you, always pretend it’s you, Noely.”
One part of Noel - the part that’s screaming inside of him at the moment, begging him to leave this prison of a hotel room, the part that’s still holding onto his sanity for dear fucking life - wants to slap Liam silly, tell him to shut the fuck up, to get help. But the other part - much bigger, much stronger, much more overpowering, too overwhelming for Noel to handle - seizes up at the mere mention of other Alphas, other Alphas fucking Liam, other Alphas having Liam the way he’s having Liam now. Doesn’t even matter that Liam’s practically baring his soul to him, letting him know that even when it’s the other Alphas fucking him, all he thinks about is Noel.
Liam’s fingers are pruny with his own wetness when Noel shoves his hand out of the way, replaces it with his own, starts stabbing them into his cunt mercilessly, unrestrained jealousy fuelling the anger of his movements. It’s worth it for the way Liam’s body arches up against him, the most gorgeous iteration of his name leaving his lips.
He spreads his legs wider, hands coming to grip his own thighs, keeping them obscenely wide. Noel must’ve done something, must’ve fucking done something truly evil in a past life, something evil enough to warrant this being his punishment.
“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, N-Noe - Noel-”
He pulls out his fingers, and Liam whines, sounding devastated. “No, no, no, please, Noel, please, was-was so good, Noely, jus-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Noel spits out. He practically rips off his own boxers. He’s never been so hard in his life.
Liam’s wide eyes are glued to his cock; a slob of drool runs down his chin that he doesn’t bother to wipe clean. And if he had a tail Noel’s sure it’d be wagging furiously at the prospect of being fucked. But then again Noel doesn’t feel to special at all right now; other Alphas.
He can’t even bare to watch as he guides his cock inside Liam, afraid he’ll shoot off the moment his tip touches the entrance to Liam’s cunt, afraid that seeing it happen will make it real, will confirm that it’s really happening, that he’s doing what he’s always sworn he wouldn’t; soiling his baby brother, the opposite of protecting him from other Alphas, being the Alpha he needs protection from.
Ironically enough, inside Liam is heaven. Warm and tight and lovely. Like coming home. He could cry.
Liam is crying, hot tears streaming down his pinkened cheeks, hands still keeping his thighs pushed apart for Noel, for his big brother.
“Noel, Noely, f-feels, feels so- ”
“Yeah?” he grunts, pulling out just so, pushing right back in, can’t bear to leave the perfect heat for even a moment, fucking made just for him.
Liam tips his head back, like he’s in agony, perfect neck all bared for Noel to bend down and mark. He pulls out, all the way this time, and when he pushes back in he does it slow and hard, hips flush against the backs of Liam’s thighs. Liam gasps, and Noel does it again, and again and again and again. Slow, hard thrusts, punching the most beautiful gasps and whines from his baby brother.
He leans down, kisses him between thrusts, swallowing his pretty noises. His lips trail down, back to his neck, sucking more marks into the pale, unblemished flesh.
“Go - go faster.”
“Hm?”
“Fuckin’ faster.” Fucking brat.
Noel grits his teeth. He straightens his back, grip tight on Liam’s pale thighs, pushing them up against his chest. “Hold on tight, then, yeah?”
Then he fucks him proper, starts pistoning his hips, the sound of their skin slapping together reverberating against the walls of the hotel room, like they’re in a cheap porno. And Liam plays his part well, moaning like a whore.
“Oh, fuck yes, yes! Noel!”
“No one else can take you like this,” he says it through gritted teeth, “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em. All of ‘em.”
Liam’s cunt spasms around him, gets even wetter somehow. “Noel!”
“Fucking mine, yeah? You’re all fucking mine.” He’s got Liam folded in half now, pounding into him hard enough to make the headboard dent the wall, the mattress creaking beneath them. “This is my fucking cunt,” he spits out, and Liam nods vigorously, eyes rolling back.
He feels it when Liam comes, muscles seizing around his cock, impossibly tighter, his entire body arching off the bed as he yells Noel’s name. Noel fucks him harder, faster through his orgasm, tries to prolong it as much as possible.
He could kid himself, could tell himself that he was just about to do the responsible thing and pull out before his knot catches, and that it was Liam who prevented that by clenching tighter around his aching cock, by locking their eyes together and fucking begging him - “Inside, Noely, wan’ it inside, yeah?”
Oh. It’s far too much to handle, far too much to refuse, and then it’s done, he’s coming with a guttural groan, knot swelling and locking Liam and him together. Well, fuck.
It could be minutes or hours or even days later, fuck knows. Liam’s legs are wrapped around him, and his hands are running soothingly up and down his back. He feels more than hears Liam’s contented sigh.
“Thank you, Noely,” he purrs. “Love you.”
Liam will need to go again soon. Maybe Noel’s suicide can be postponed for a bit.