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Damon hurries up the staircase, almost bouncing on it, each step echoing with restless excitement. Every few steps, he skips one entirely, taking the stairs two at a time in bursts of impatience and desire. He tells himself it is to get there faster, that it is efficient, but in truth, it probably slows him down a little. Not that it matters. Well, it kind of does, but only because every second feels like an eternity. He’s not late, he’s just too eager to wait any longer. The man he knows to be on top of those stairs behind a solid wooden door, probably lying on his sofa with the feet on the table, is pulling him forward like gravity in reverse, very possibly fully unaware of the effect the sheer thought of him has on Damon. Or well, perhaps aware of that effect existing, but not of the extent of it.
Damon can’t stop grinning as he goes.
Finally reaching the targeted floor, he prepares a cool face. Can't feed the other man's ego too much by being this hyped already. So he rolls his shoulders a little and raises a hand to knock a few times.
Almost immediately, the door opens.
His bright grin and a cheeky greeting get swallowed almost instantely, his body being pulled in, the door closed shut maybe a little too loud for such a fine apartment complex, and his lips are being engulfed by someone else's into a hard and hungry and hot kiss. It presses Damon's back even further into the cold wood of the door, which, in return, makes him shudder. The other must have felt that and interpreted it as his presence having caused such a reaction, making him smile into the kiss. Smug bastard. Though Damon must agree that maybe, it wasn't purely the door's fault.
As he feels (cold) hands creep up under his t-shirt, resting on his hip, he brings his own arms up around the other's neck and pulls him impossibly closer, before burying his fingers into soft hair. God, he'll never get tired of this man's hair. Why does it have to be so smooth yet so grippable?
Eventually, he reluctantly moves his head in an awkward up-right angle, just to get away for some air. And a moan apparently, as the other one rolls his hips against his. Damon wants to give him credit for seizing the opportunity to get a noise out of him, though he doubts that there was any conscious intention behind the movement, just lust.
"Liam..."
It's breathy and needy, all after a little make-out session against the wall. Damon figures it has been too long.
"Am right here, Day," just as breathy and underlined by yet another roll of the hips. He really is there. No dream (not that Damon would ever admit to having such dreams, especially not about Liam, or to Liam. That would be an information with too much power to taunt him).
Liam's lips are back on his right after Damon's second moan, a reaction he can't help but have whenever Liam's hips meet his in those rolls he does so well. Every. Damn. Time. The singer really is taking Roll With It quite seriously.
Just like the previous kiss, it is sloppy and unpractised, but in a familiar kind of way. The kind of kiss that carries the ache of every single day they have been apart, and it had been a lot more days this time, more than Damon would like to count. But with Blur and Oasis both doing well and the added and increased pressure and attention from media, it became hard to squeezes this in, squeeze them in, him and Liam. Squeeze in Liam.
He knows Liam feels the same, tastes it on his lips, the despair. Feels the desire in the anchoring grip Liam keeps on his hips. As if Damon would walk away from this.
But he didn't manage to catch enough breath between the first kiss, the body rolls, and the second kiss, so Damon has to pry away after all. Tugging on Liam's hair to get him off won't be of any use, he knows that. Has tried it often enough, only for Liam to tug his head back on his hair with such ease and pleasure instead, Damon will never understand it. He's not even weak, but apparently hair-tugging just simply is not a skill of his. Oh well, there is plenty he's good at.
So his hands travel from Liam's neck down to his shoulders, squeezing before trying to lightly push him off. However, Liam doesn't get the message, or doesn't care enough. If Damon wanted him off, he would succeed without needing Liam's brain to catch up in all his horniness. Or carelessness.
Indeed, a little more intent behind the shoving gets their lips seperated and allows Damon to gasp for air. Liam gasps too, and Damon grins. This is the greatest feeling in the world, or at the very least, one of the top ten. Kissing someone and both sides are so into it, proper breathing becomes less of a top priority.
"Need ya so bad, Day, like, religiously," Liam sighs, head dropping on Damon's shoulder. He hears him taking in a deep breath and thanks his own foresight for having refreshed on Deodorant and body spray in between coming home from a long session in a way too hot, way too small studio and rushing here right after.
"Religiously, huh?"
"Aye. Every prayer ends wi' your name anyway." A small, wet kiss is placed, half on his neck and half on the collar of his shirt.
"Wait." Damon let's himself breath out as he actually needs a second to think. He blames it on the brain-fuzziness from slowly becoming more and more turned on. "Ohh, real smart."
" 'Course it is, remember who yer talkin' to." Liam bites at his neck, but it isn't teethy at all and he gets some parts of the shirt's collar, again. Though he doesn't seem to mind, and as he uses his teeth to pull down the shirt a little to expose bare skin, Damon figures that had been the plan all along.
Liam uses the newly created space to plant another wet kiss on Damon's collarbone as he mumbles: "I'd build a bloody altar if I could. Sunday worship, Monday repentance. No holidays off, 'm fucking devout."
Damon moans and tries shifting his stance. Liam let's him, but only a slight readjustment is possible, before the grip on his hip goes back to steel.
It is surprising to hear Liam talk about religion in such a context, but then again, he never did seem like a strong practiser anyway.
Tongue travelling up to Damon's neck, Liam's warm saliva creates an extra cold feeling where he leaves it, as the air of the room hits the trail. That feeling alone could make Damon moan again, yet the kisses planted in between mumbled words is what really draws out said moan.
"Full conversion. The Church of Damonism opens at dawn. Membership's exclusive."
He sucks down and immediately, Damon's hand find their place in Liam's hair again.
"Liam Gallagher's the foundin' believer, call me the high priest or whatever. Just waiting fer the gospel accordin' to you."
"Liam.." Damon whimpers, which only makes Liam pull back and grin.
"That what yeh preachin'?"
Damon lets his head fall back against the door in frustration. All he wants right now is to have Liam's lips all over his body, anywhere, wherever the other wants to put them, as long as they are on him. Preferably non-stop for the whole night. And without such a grin screaming superiority, if possible. "Fuck off." Damon tries to wind out of Liam's grip in an attempt to shrink Liam's ego, but they both know what Damon really meant was a me to be where the off hed been in the half-hearted attempt to tell Liam off.
"Well y'know, if that's the gospel I s'pose..," Liam grins as he takes his hands away from Damon's hips and holds them up in the air, as if some officer just told him to do so. They both know who will be the first one to cave in, the first one unable to stand not touching even though they are so close together and alone, and it isn't the man trying his best shot at innocent puppy eyes whilst not even trying to hide how muchit fills him with utter satisfaction to taunt the other.
Gathering all working brain cells for a proper retort before going mad, Damon does his best to keep his voice steady and his thoughts clear...ish. "Yeah? Then I say Damonism is all about devotion, so if you want to be a good follower you better show me just how devoted you are by touchin' me like right now." Not his best but does its job, as Liam's expression fills with even more lust than before and his lips find their way back to Damon's neck, on the opposite side from where they had been this time. His hands are back on his hips as well, lower than before, and Damon can feel Liam slipping some fingers under the waistband of his trouser, lightly grazing the fabric of his boxers there. God, Damon forgot how insanely good Liam is at railing him up. It definitely has absolutely been certainly too long.
"Devotion ye say..." Liam licks over the skin, his bottom lip scrubbing behind his tongue.
"Faith." It's breathy and again, Damon basks in the feeling of wet skin being hit by air. He feels Liam's lips replacing the tongue on his neck and anticipates another wet kiss, but more often than not, Liam Gallagher does not what one expects from him. Or at least not only that.
"And a little bit of sin..." Liam purrs before biting down, harder than just a few minutes ago, yet not hard enough to actually hurt beyond the pleasure it, embarassingly enough, gives Damon. It is the most pathetic whimper Damon has let out in months and it also is a noise only Liam can draw out of him.
"That's the Damon doctrine," is almost whispered against the spot that had just been between teeth, before the originally awaited wet kiss is being placed all over and around the assaulted skin. Damon closes his eyes in attempt to focus on not coming right then and there. Had they just managed to see each other a bit more often than they did, maybe it wouldn't have taken so little for Damon to get to this point. Though, realistically, he knows that's not the truth. Liam simply has a way of working his words just right for Damon.
"Yer my religion, Damon. All the others lost their meaning since that first kiss with you." And it is so genuine, Damon would have cried hadn't he been so hard.
"God, fuck me already."
"Back to God now, are ya?" Liam chuckles and Damon opens his eyes for the best glare he can manage directly into Liam's eyes. This is the first real eye contact this night and it makes Damon's heart beat concerningly fast. He can see pure desire in Liam's eyes, and behind that, if he looks deeper into that darling blue, aching exhaustion. But he doesn't want to focus on that right now, instead storing the fact away in the back of his mind for a late-night post-sex-talk, or maybe a heart-to-heart-early-morning-conversation. Tonight isn't an emotional-fuck kind of night, tonight is an animalistic one.
There is no doubt in his mind that Liam saw the same exhaustion mirrored in his own eyes, and came to the same conclusion. Or a very similar one anyways.
Eyes sparkling, Liam brings his hands up to Damon's face, cupping it, thumbs caressing over cheecks. Damon takes that as an invitation to be the one holding Liam's hips instead, returning the favour of dipping beneath the waistband of Liam's trousers but not his boxers. To his satisfaction, the frustration Damon had felt at that now shows itself in Liam's gaze, a small win in a night he knows he won't have the upper-hand in.
Despite only holding onto Damon's face now, Liam still is the one to lead them both further into the flat and towards the living room, all whilst making out again. In between small air- and orientation-breaks, Damon manages to look around enough to figure he was probably right about Liam having previously lied on the sofae, if the ashtray with a still, albeit barely, glowing cigarette butt and a clearly unfinished beer bottle are anything to go by.
Not bothering warning Damon, Liam drops himself back on the sofa, dragging Damon with him by his grip on his face (now more neck, really), and Damon's on his hips. It doesn't take much effort for Damon to land right were they both want him: on top of Liam's lap, straddling Liam's hips. In order to not give Liam any form of pleasure for now, Damon lets his hands travel up a little. If Liam said he is devoted, there should be no need for Damon to take any initiative to undress either of them.
Liam is now the one whose hands wander to Damon's neck, smearing around what saliva hasn't dried yet up and down Damon's neck and it should be somewhat gross, but there is no way Damon will be able to convince either his mind or his body to act disgusted.
Their lips meet again due to Liam pushing Damon's head down on his lips were he wants it, and it is even messier than before. Eyes closed, all open mouthed and increasingly needy, it wold turn on the Creator himself. Damon figures even as a non-believing-person he still shouldn't think such things out of respect but whatever. Apparently he has his own religion anyways.
When Liam buckles up his hips, Damon is honestly surprised to find there had still been space left between them, but apparently there had been, and the temporary closing of that space makes his eyes rolld behind closed lids. His hands desperately clutch at Liam's side and he starts grinding further into Liam's lap, up and down and up and down, until Liam tugs at the back of his hair. All his movements halt, which, regrettably, means both grinding and kissing, but he knows that is exactly what Liam wanted and how and where he wanted him: Desperate and in need and already near-fucked stupid without any actual fucking, without any actual undressing, even. That man really is infuriating at times, though Damon does salute his self-control.
For a few seconds, they just hold eye contact, until Liam finally licks his lips and starts talking. "Feel this?" One hand lets go off Damon's hair and pulls him closer by the hip. The sole fact that Liam managed to pull him closer with just one hand turns Damon on impossibly more, though in his state it probably isn't much work for Liam to control him and his body in any way.
It is pretty evident what Liam wanted Damon to feel, as Liam's hard length presses against Damon's body, and no doubt could he ask Liam the exact same thing in return, as he feels his own clothed dick press into Liam. That man is impossible for not just getting it on.
Damon feels his head being pushed forward, or pulled, depending on the perspective, he supposes. He considers pucking his lips or lowering his head further to re-close the gap between their lips, mentally accepting the pull on his hair he would be creating for himself by doing so, but he senses Liam has some greater plan, something to say or do, so he ultimately decides against it. After all, there is nothing that man does without intention, though more often than not, there is no plan behind the actions. First, Damon thought Liam was a genius, considering every single thing, movement or thing he could do or say before carefully deciding on one. Soon, however, he learned that most of the time, Liam, brilliant as he may be, tends to simply make up stuff as he goes. " 't's just for you,"
"Liam.." That is what, the third time this night Damon whimpers Liam's name? And he would be embarassed wouldn't he know how much it turns Liam on.
Said man fucking finally removes Damon's shirt, hungry eyes running all over his torso. Damon loves how he could always see the want in Liam's eyes, it makes him feel special. No amount of compliments from magazines or fans or even complete strangers on the street could ever make him feel as pretty as the look in Liam's eyes when they are on him. Even Liam's words don't have the same effect, though they still count a lot more than anyone else's. Most remarkable thing Liam ever grunted while burried deep inside him was you're such a pretty little slut fer me, and Damon didn't even care that he got called a slut. Hell, it turned him on. That marked the day their tone and movements became impossibly more rough in bed, as if Damon's pleas in response to Liam's words had torn down the last bit of social etiquette that had been at play between them; the last weariness of each other's presence.
Deciding he doesn't want to be the only one getting undressed tonight, his hands push up Liam's shirt. He lets him, even removing his arms out of Damon's hair in order for Damon to pull the shirt off. Damon loves Liam's body, would get off on it alone, and if that makes him superficial then so that be. If Damon is pretty, Liam is etheral (in Damon's massively subjective opinion at last...Liam's too probably).
However, his desires for touching and feeling Liam's body stand no chance, as Liam knows him too well by now, knows what he wants just by looking at him. Knows how to stop him from getting what he wants, knows how to make him beg for it instead.
With a soft grip on both his wrists, Liam brings his hands behind his back, leaving his right hand in charge of holding both of Damon's away so he can bury his left hand in Damon's hair again. It doesn't restrain Damon at all, but it doesn't have to. Damon gets the message and besides, if Liam actually wants to hold him back, he would do it.
Liam pushes Damon's head down enough for their lips to ghost over one another once again, and Damon thinks how it really isn't fair. Usualy, he usually is okay with Liam taking his time, he really is, he loves begging. But normally, ideally, he only ever reaches that point of begging when Liam is nearly done preparing him, or maybe even in him already, driving them both mad with an excrutiatingly slow pace and simply waiting for Damon to urge him on. As far as expectations for today go, Damon didn't think ayn of that would be the case today, he thought Liam would want to get it on quickly after all this time, but of course Mr. Gallagher suddenly developed an insane amount of patience he, on top of that, clearly is all too aware of himself.
Just as Damon wants to act on his earlier thoughts from when they previously were in this position like a blink ago, Liam pulls back a little with a smug smirk. It makes Damon snap and desperately chase after him. Breathy and cruely, Liam chuckles and of course it draws out yet another whimper from Damon and of course Liam doesn't cave in and kiss him and of course Liam instead opts for his collarbone, still smiling smugly.
"Asshole."
Very obviously fake puppy eyes shoot up at that, the amusement and superiority behind the facade evident and Damon now feels tears prickle in his eyes. He really can't take this, it is too slow. Besides, his tears always work with Liam, always turn him on infinitely more, always give back some control to Damon. As he closes his eyes, he feels Liam tensing under him, increasing the strength on the grip both around Damon's wrists and in his hair. A tear rolls down his cheek and Damon supposes this is the perfect moment for him to reopen his eyes.
He knows what he looks like, or well, he can take a pretty educated guess. Hair tousled and slightly sweaty. Eyes red, a single tear streak visible and even more tears waiting to dramatically roll out of where they are swimming in the edges of his eyes. No shirt, marks all around the neck and collarbone, a clear tent under his trousers. Maybe even still glistening skin, seeing how much Liam basically drooled all over him.
In short, he must look wrecked. Wrecked from essentially a whole lot of nothing (or at least nothing on their usual level).
"Yer off yer head, Day."
"Oh I'm the mad one, am I? You take like an anaphrodisiac or how come you haven't fucking burst yet, Liam? I really can't take it anymore, I... I..." Damon is at a loss for words. Liam's eyes are dark. Where before Damon could still read out several different, nuanced emotions, now only one is left. Lust. Pure, filthy lust. The one that promises Damon he won't be able to walk in a few hourse without feeling pain, or at the very least, a high level of discomfort. He gulps.
Liam doesn't even bother responding, his smirk saying more than his words possibly could right now. The grip on Damon's wrists is realeased and re-relocated to his hip, down to his lower thigh. Liam flips them over and on to the longer side of the sofa, hovering over Damon. Still no words, but kisses at last, finally wandering down from his neck and over his collarbone to his left nipple, giving it a slight and stinging bite. Yet another reason for Damon to gasp. His head falls back as his eyes close and his hands find their way up into Liam's hair without looking.
For oncem Liam's mouth takes no more time than necessary on his nipples, instead wandering down further, the sudden pick up of the pace suddenly to much after the earlie sloth speed, leaving Damon's head spinning. So this was Liam's plan all along.
A wet tongue makes its way down Damon's happy trail, the feeling scorching. Kisses are being planted right above his trousers, reducing Damon to drop the gasping and embrace the whimpering. Great, his pants aren't even off yet and Liam already has Damon gone so far, he can't do more than whimper. Again, no need to look, Liam must have such a self-congratulating grin on right now, it would wake an urge to punch him within Damon.
But he does take pity, stopping his kisses and leaning back on Damon's legs to start working on opening his pants. Much to Damon's surprise, he doesn't take his time. The hands on his lower hip, right were cotton had been just now, distracts him from realising Liam's weight left his legs. Even Liam's hands left his body, however the lingering touch makes Damon too unaware to realise it at first. Only when Liam's hands come back on his body, grabbing at his inner thighs, making him shake, does Damon realise he was gone, and checking through flattering eyelids tells him it was in order for Liam to properly remove both Damon's and his own pants.
Damon has never seen Liam this hard. Felt it in himself? Yes. Saw it? No. He also has never seen his own dick this hard, the thought alone turning him on even moer. It really is a miracle neither came already.
He wonders if Liam had gone on had they come, but it doesn't take much brain power to land on an answer. Had they both come, Liam would have retorted to a long make out session followed by a second round. Had Liam come, he would have worked on making Damon come, maybe suck him off, have Damon put on a show. After he made Damon come, he would have been back to hard again and fucked Damon through the overstimulation up until they both came again. Had Damon come, Liam probably would have done nothing differently, no matter at what point in the night they would have been. Hell, Damon could come right now and he knows Liam wouldn't so much as bat a bushy eyebrow and just go on with business, and Damon wouldn't even be able to put it past Liam. It would have worked him through the orgasm, the thought that Liam acted like he didn't care. Would probably have helped getting it up again.
A cold, lubed up finger enters his hole and he would love to be able to say he is surprised to find Liam having lube around his sofa, but seeing as he himself is the main reason for that tube always being stuffed between cushions, he really doesn't have any right to be taken aback.
Damon is tighter than usual. When he gets himself off, it only ever is with focus on his dick, never fingering himself. And since Liam came first into the picture, Damon didn't even think about going back to past situationships or trying to find new ones, neither girls nor boys, Liam knows that. Liam also no doubt feels that, feels just how tight Damon is. Of course he chooses to comment on it.
"Fuck, you've never been this bloody tight before, Day." A bruising grip is placed on Damon's left hip, keeping him down. He hasn't yet tried to shift his hips up in an attempt to furtherly meet Liam's fingers, but Liam must have known he would try after Liam's next words. "You're even tighter than when you just came and I fuck you through it."
Really, Damon should receive an award for the amount of self-control it takes him not to come right then and there. He decides, since he has made it this far, he at least deserves to not have to come untouched. Though with Liam like this (and also in general), maybe he should change that to not come until Liam's dick is in him, at least.
A second finger enters him and Liam starts scissoring him. Hadn't Damon already been a whimpering mess before, he wouldd be one now. But since the whimpering already happened, his body decides to add occaisonal hiccups to the soundly mess. Liam chuckles, the kind that is followed by a taunt. Hot breath tickles Damon's ear as Liam leans down, the new angle allowing him to find his prostrate in no time. Damon is sure he is actually seeing stars. "No way I've got ya this far gone already."
"Please, I'm ready, please..."
"Nah, Damon, nah, yer not. Had I fucked you into oblivion this morning, I'd have considered it but fuck, 't's been ages, that."
"Please, I-" I can handle it. I am okay with it. I demand you to do it. I hate you for being this considerate. I also love you for it.
Liam does give him something, entering a third finger and shifting his focus to quick but thorough stretching instead of abusing Damon's prostrate. The interval of hiccups increases.
It does hurt, but only barely. The stretch is far from comfortable, yet even in his hazy mind Damon tries to hide the pain as good as possible. What Liam can't see, he can't be worried about. Though in all probability, Liam can see it. Who is he kidding, really, this is Liam after all, his Liam. But either he can't hold back much more himself, or he deems this rewarding Damon for his effort at gulping down pain in order to get it on, as a fourth finger enters him.
Damon's own fingers grab the soft sofa beneath him, desperately clawing at a material not made for clawing. It makes the tips of his fingers burn a little and his, albeit short, nails bend awkwarldy. Liam sees this and promptly looses the grip on Damon's hips to take a cushion from somewhere behind him. Damon knows the deal and raises his hips. The fingers in him don't move with him, and when two of them hit his prostate due to Damon's own fault, he thinks he might actually pass out. Or away, even.
At least the cushion gives him something to clutch on to, while also changing the angle once more. Now if there will any more changes in the way Liam angles his fingers, Damon will personally pry them out and away and replace them with Liam's dick.
Finally, Liam seems to deem him ready enough. Damon mostly agrees. The pain remains there, yet it also remains easy enough to conceal, or attempt to conceal, who knows. With a last, torterous curl of all four fingers, Liam pulls them out. Had Damon left a bit more of his mind, he would have playfully asked Liam if he really thinks four fingers are needed to prepare him for Liam's dick, but nothing more than a whine leaves his mouth.
He hears the lube bottle click and figures he must have been so distracted that he hadn't even heard that noise before. No time to wonder what else he missed while being stuffed however, as Liam aligns with his hole.
Damon knows Liam likes to have a proper look at Damon's eyes every single time upon entering him, a fact both somewhat endearing and very unexpected coming from Liam. It had Damon confused the first few times, before he eventually realised what is is Liam was doing. He was looking for a sign to stop, giving him a last chance to prevent having sex when he didn't want to. The day were Liam sees something telling him to stop is yet to come, though Damon honestly doubts that will ever be the case and if it were to come along, he also knows he wouldn't be able to hide it. In their beginnings, maybe Liam wouldn't have picked up on it. In all honesty, others haven't, not that anyone ever checked in the first place. Damon used to come around, it was a well known fact, so of course people thought he would always be down. Anyway, Liam would now be able to see any sort of hesitation, that's certain.
Not todaym that is. Liam smiles satisfied upon not finding any protest, expression almost ridiculously soft, as if the man wasn't about to fuck him, hard, hopefully. Such an innocent face should be impossible in such a dirty context.
Damon tries to keep his eyes open beyond the tip entering him. When they had first talked about Liam and his need for that type of confirmation, all between tangled sheets and shared body heat, he had said that eye-contact right before is enoughm yet Damon soon found they are both calmer, not in their actions but in their minds, if he holds the gaze until Liam bottoms out. He doesn't always succeed, but more often than not, he does manage to hold it long enough.
Tonight, his eyes shut closed right after the tip is in.
The pain is a little more uncomfortable now, and Damon is glad he hadn't made a comment on the four fingers, as that would only had allowed Liam a comment on his pained expression, something along the lines of " 't would appear I'm even bigger than ye thought, ye twat." But nothing of that sort comes, Liam's left hand softly cupping his cheek instead whilst not stopping his movements. Damon knows that's the right decision, have him bottom out and then give Damon time to adjust, but it still makes him whimper, a pained one this time.
Small kisses are being planted all over his face as an apology. Thinking about it, this pain probably is the best thing that could have happened. It grounds Damon, it gives him something else to feel other than lust, it keeps him from coming. And anyway, every time Liam becomes a big (small) softie with him is a good time. It makes him forget the pain. Liam makes him forget pain.
After what felt like a stretched out eternity, but realistically had been just a few seconds, Liam bottoms out. Damon exhales soundly in order to calm himself. He really, really wants this. Really needs it too. The pain is there and luckily he is a master at controlling his breath. Breathing away the issue is something that doesn't solely work for panic attacks.
He needs to touch Liam, needs to grab at him. The cushion isn't enough anymore and he knows how much Liam loves seeing stretch marks in the mirror afterwards. First, his hands grab at the tender place between Liam's neck and shoulder, hard. It is the only thing that can demand Damon's attention away from pain and breathing.
With the obvious intention of giving Liam a little show, which is another thing Damon knows the man loves, Damon opens his eyes to look right at Liam and arch his back while rolling his head impossibly deeper into the sofa's material beneath him, also lulling it to the side, allowing Liam full access to his neck. The movement draws his hips back and thus, Liam deeper into him and he thought he could handle that but the fingers on Liam's shoulders shake while digging in deeper just so they wouldn't accidentally slip off awkwardly. His eyes roll back and he can practically hear Liam's self control shatter.
"Yer dead fuckin' beautiful, y'know," Liam grunts as he burries his face in Damon's neck with such hunger, Damon should be scared. He decides his own hunger too takes over the pain, or well, it will eventually.
"Move."
Liam was just biting skin, his teeth breaking in harder than he must have intended purely because of Damon's tone. So demanding, so needy, so filthy. The "Now," that follows when Liam freezes instead of acting clearly doesn't make it any better for Liam to not start at a rough and breaking pace.
Succumbing to his now fully non-existing patience, Damon wraps his legs around Liam, once again burrying the man impossibly deeper into him, leaving Liam's dick hovering over the spot Damon feels to be his prostate. Now this is maddening.
There is no way Liam knows, is what Damon would have thought had this situation and position happened in their beginnings, yet these days, no one in this world knows Damon Albarn's body and mind better than Liam Gallagher, so it comes to absolutely no surprise when a grinning Liam pushes out almost entirely, only to push back in right away. Not as deep as before though, and Damon glares. Because he knows Liam knows, and he knows Liam wants to hit it as badly as Damon wants him to. Because these days, no one in this world knows Liam Gallagher's body and mind better than Damon Albarn.
With each thrust back in, Damon realises, Liam pushes in deeper. And deeper. And deeper. And finally, deep enough. It is the most needy whimper Damon has let out so far, and it is just the type of noise Liam no doubt wants to hear. Now having hit his prostate once, the pace picks up whilst the angle and depth stay the same. This is how to reduce Damon Albarn to the ultimate mess.
"Feels good, yeah?"
Damon cries out at the unrelentless pace Liam is keeping up, all whilst bend down over Damon's ear just to groan and curse right into it. His fingers try to grab higher up Liam's body, which, in his position, means claw at his back. The bite on his earlobe Liam gives him tells him he is holding onto him exactly the way Liam loves so bad.
"Fuck, you're too hot for yer own good." Liam's hips stutter in their movement and Damon is sure they are both about to be pushed over the edge already. No wonder with how long it took them to just get here already. "Me sweetest fuckin' sin," Liam groans as he adjusts the way he is holding his body up over Damon, but Damon is so far gone, he hardly regsisters. All that he does register is Liam pulsating deep inside him and the rapid pace he once again falls back into.
"Liam... Liam, I can't... hold..." It's the best Damon can gasp out in between pushes and it is everything Liam lives for.
Once again, Liam buries his face in the crook of Damon's neck, placing wet, sloppy kisses everywhere and scrapping his teeth over originally unblemished skin. "Y'wanna cum, yeah?" Even Liam can't keep the pace up for much longer, it seems, not with the feel of his own cum likely bursting out any second. "Cum for me, Damon."
His hips roll desperately and harshly into Damon one more time, before both men come, Damon all over their abdomen and Liam deep inside Damon. Neither knows who came first and neither cares, as Liam slowly drags out their orgasms.
Damon comes down from his high first, judging by Liam's dazed out expression and nearly halted position inside of Damon. What a cliché. After months of not seeing one another, not fucking, they of course came at about the same time. Damon chuckles.
That noise seems to do it for Liam, who, regrettably, pulls out his now softened dick and, not entirely regrattably, completely collapses down on Damon, looking up from where his head is now resting on Damon's chest, right above his heart. It must be beating so loud and quick into his ear. "What ya laughin' at?"
"We came at the same time, I mean, who does that?"
Now Liam chuckles as well, a soft one, boyish. It isn't the chuckle one would expect from someone who just ruined his sofa-cushion with his own cum simply by pulling out of the man the media proclaims his rival. "Yer so messy," Liam yawns and Damon playfully hits his shoulderblade at the audacity.
"It isn't my cum on the thing," he retorts, but he is far more than just aware that he can't exactly say he was any less messy than Liam, as Liam cheekily demonstrates by moving slightly on Damon, making both of them aware again of the wetness of Damon's cum pressed in between their bodies, having been spread over them more and more due to Liam lying on Damon. So maybe Damon could blame this on Liam too after all. Neither chooses to comment on it any further.
Eventually, Liam mumbles, "Am noddin' off 'ere," and Damon closes his eyes with an agreeing hum. This, this is domesticity at its finest. It also is one of Liam's best looks, all fucked out and tired yet so clearly happy and content.
"As much as I'd love that, and I'd love it a lot, that would be so gross."
Liam grunts, letting Damon know that he would have held true to his word and fallen asleep like that, only to wake up in a few hours, all tired and groggy and grossed out at the state the dried cum would have left them both. They both have been there, so Damon knows he had to stop the idea for both of their sakes and take the annoyed glare Liam gives him like a champ. After all, he takes everything Liam gives him like a champ. "Let's shower, big guy."
Snorting at the nickname, Liam sits back on Damon's. "Can ya even walk?"
Damon raises an eyebrow. So far he has walked without an issues after each of their encounters, soreness, if even, only setting in the morning after (or well, some time over the day, depending on when they did it). He gets up on his elbows to get a better look at Liam, who beats him to a follow up question. "Just askin', y'know. Know ye were in pain but figured at some point 't was good enough to go on." He looks conflicted and Damon senses he isn't done yet. "I shouldn't have, but ye were so hot and 't was so hot and I was so horny and I really tried to hold meself back as good as I could but..," he trails out and furtherly messes up his hair with one hand.
"Liam," Damon sighs, pushing himself up fully to a proper sitting postion. Or well, tries to, but it turns out Liam was right to ask if he could walk it appears, as even just sitting up creates the familiar but overly strong pain in his abdomen. "Fuck."
"Knew it, I bloody knew't, 'm so sorry, Day." Liam immediately bends back down to Damon, who had dropped back to a lying postion, arms clasping at his lower stomach. He needs to let Liam know that he had wanted him to get it on. Sure, Liam seems to know that, but Damon knows this is one of the things he needs to reassure Liam verbally in as well, just so that he really, really knows it.
Kisses are being left all over his face and apologies are being whispered into his hair and skin.
"Don't start, Liam. You know I already wanted you to go on way before you did."
Listening closely, Liam halts, one ear right at Damon's mouth. His hair tickles Damon's face and he has to blink a few strains out of his eyes. "I still shouldn't've."
"Oh you definitely should have. You don't want me to stop coming over, do you?" This is the way to get to Liam Gallagher. Soft words are great and all, but blunt and straightforward stuff is what shows Liam that Damon means it. He could tell him that it was alright a houndred times and it would help, yes, but the truth of how Damon gladly accepted a bit of pain and wouldn't preferred it any other way is much better. It is earnest.
When Damon first said something along these lines, he meant it as a joke. The context was entirely different, but Liam had panicked so much and asked what he did wrong for Damon to not want to come back while being visibly and audibly close to tears. That had ended in their first tear-filled nightly deep talk where they cleared up all of it, so Damon knows Liam won't beat himself up any more about it, reads it in his eyes. It's time for a joke. "Besides, you couldn't help it, no one can resist my charm."
"Oh fuck you. Yer alright, love," Liam rolls his eyes and sits back up on Damon's legs again, tickling his side as a childish way of payback. Bloody kid. The feeling makes Damon squirm and twist on his side, legs still pinned down which allows only his upper body to twist, thus creating a sharp pain that shoots up and through his whole body coming from his abdomen. A giggle that had formed from being ticklish now turns into a cry, and even Damon can hear how horror-movie-esque that sounded.
"Fuck, Damon! I'm so sorry!" And Liam is back bedning down to his level.
Damon shakes his head and bites back the tears, turning his head so Liam can have a look at his face and calm down before Damon puts on a big grin. "Show me how sorry you are and draw me a bath."
Liam quirks up his eyebrows, clearly still torn between retorting a snarky comment and fussing over Damon in fear of having seriously hurt him against his will. Damon can preactically watch Liam's mind figuring out how something in between might be the way to go, and yeah, he's right, because Damon doesn't want him to fuss too much or too openly. Liam must see pain, but just like before, he must also see Damon trying to hide it, so really, the best way is to take care of Damon and his body tonight and tomorrow before slowly easing back into their more rougher and sarcastic usual tone. The twinkle in Liam's eyes tells Damon that that's exactly the type of awareness that just settled within in his partner.
"Tell you what, Liam. The sooner you get us both cleaned up, the sooner we can crash. You did say you wanted to fall asleep on me, yeah?"