summary: you were Noel's number one fan at every oasis gig, until you went missing. when your paths crossed again, he didn't plan on letting you go without showing what a proper fan should experience.
content: reunion!noel x mid 20s fem!reader, 18+ !!fingering, blow job, no protection used, p in the v.
He was a sucker for attention, always was then and even more now. The ladies went ballistic for him regardless of the spiky greying hair or the noticeable swell of his belly that often tugged his shirt up whenever he made any minor movements. It was completely fucking flattering, don’t get him wrong - but it was not a perspective that he could happily share in.
Not that he was there to complain.
You see… he had seen you more times than he could have dared to count. Twice in Cardiff. Then another two more times in Heaton Park, then it was Wembley. All of which you were stood right against the metal barrier ahead of his eyesight, eyeing him up as though he was something profoundly reverent. As if he was your God. Shouting. Clutching onto your chest with emotions revving up your face with no genuine care in the world, because right there and then, it was the band’s music and him that mattered most.
Every single time he laid eyes upon you, your hair remained glued to the sweaty forehead, lips utterly wet from saliva as you continued to lick them in between songs. Dehydrated, perhaps. Even over the growling of his guitar and Liam’s raspy cries across the speakers, Noel could still practically pick your voice apart. The constant shrieks of: I love you, Noel! I love you!
No shame. Not a single fuck given. And he spared you a cheeky grin every bloody time, as if the universe would punish him for simply omitting the adoring professions radiating from.. likely, one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. You were young, he was aware of that too. Not because he could see it perfectly on your face.. no, the distance between him and the barrier was becoming rather frustrating and impossible. The tell was in the way you moved. The energetic jumps, the victorious throw of your arms, and the way you had bawled into a deafening sound when he dedicated Don’t Look Back In Anger to you. Saying: This one’s for the girl who’s been crying all fuckin’ night long. Cheer the fuck up, love.
He hadn’t seen you since then. And trust, he searched for you endlessly in every crowd he played to, kept scanning past every unfamiliar face just to identify the one that constantly managed to flatter him into a state of insanity.
Get this too. He was an easy fella to tease. Really. He gets hard just from the simple thrill of the thousands and generations of pupils singing his words back to him. His cock stiffens even at the numerous light frictions of the guitar on his inner thighs and jeans zipper. And fuck, he couldn’t count the amount of times he had grown a shameless boner at the simple sight of you throwing your chest above the metal barrier, screeching your heart out at him - eyes welling in delighted tears, mouth shaped into a prominent o, and Christ.. he loathed the fact that it got him thinking what it must have looked like to have you bent over the sofa backstage. What your mouth would have looked like wrapped around his stiffening cock. If you would still be as loud as you were in the crowd. Or even louder.
But you weren’t there at any of the other dates. Not in Scotland. Not Ireland. Not in fucking Canada, and much to his dismay, you weren’t there staring him down in the United States either. And it completely did his entire head in. It was utterly ridiculous, that silent disappointment burning along his bloodstream each time your face wasn’t there to greet him. He was fifty-eight, for fuck’s sake. Somewhat newly divorced. His kids were on tour supporting him. And there he was, sulking over some daft young bird who was probably not much older than his eldest. He just couldn’t get you off his mind no matter how hard he tried.
When Mexico arrived, he made the fair assumption that the two of you would never cross paths again. You had probably exhausted all of your time and money into seeing the band on plenty of occasions, and hadn’t planned on attending any more dates. Probably working. Of course. Not everyone had the charming career of travelling back and forth across the world just to play to a sea of devoted fans. That was the reality of things.
Except reality had a funny way of working.
Initially, Noel convinced himself that his mind was playing games on him, that it was all a figment of his imagination and that the subconscious desire of wanting to memorise your face had driven him into the wilderness. He thinks… no, he’s confident that you were sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant he was having dinner at. Friends and family. His eyes wandered more often than not, squinting to foolishly gain enhancement in his vision, desperate to confirm to himself that it was indeed you. So much to the point he had ignored half of the conversations happening within the table, even going as far as omitting his son’s questions because he was distracted.
He waited for the right opportunity, the right time for anything. To catch you slipping away from the group of girls you were whispering and laughing with, just enough that he could do the same and corner you.
Get the fuck up, Noel thought, get up and excuse yourself, fingers tapping impatiently on the wooden table. You had been laughing all night long, head thrown backwards, hair catching on beautiful fire under the yellow lights. He had never seen you that close before, or under proper lighting. And he was fucking gobsmacked by how much more pleasing you were to the eye.
Then it happened. Your chair scraped backwards as you leaned down to say something to your mates before drifting past all the tables and heading towards the washroom. He pounced faster than he would have liked to admit, ignoring his table’s befuddled stare in response to the abrupt reaction. He excused himself.
He looked like a fucking creep, but frankly, he had no time for shame or second thoughts. If he had to wait outside the women’s washroom just to get a word in with you, he’d do it, no questions asked. And so he did. He waited. A minute turned into two. Then six. And then your sweet and dulcet face emerged from the corner. Fucking hell. If he thought you were beautiful before, then surely he had lost all concept of the proper definition behind such an adjective. Because you were beyond any fucking beauty he had witnessed. Lips rosy and glossy from whatever cosmetics you had applied, hair brushed back neatly, shoulders naturally relaxed, and worse, you were fixing your skirt as you walked out, tugging it upwards to adjust the waistband, revealing plenty of skin in the process.
You paused briefly at the sight of the figure blocking your path, blinking upwards in plain confusion and oblivion. Noel waited and watched as your eyes widened the minute the realisation kicked in.
“Holy fuck.” You uttered, bewildered by the fact that Noel Gallagher was staring right back at you.
Noel didn’t care enough to hold back the laughter. It was the first time he heard you without all the screams, including your own. “A’right?”
“…What?” You breathed dubiously, straightening your back as though you had suddenly forgotten how to function without embarrassing yourself. “Oh. Yeah.. good. I’m good. What are you doing here in—no, don’t answer that. I know why you’re here. God—silly question, that. I’m here to see you again.”
He cracked a cheeky grin, head tilted to the side. “Are ya now?” Noel teased. “Came to see me?”
“Yes. What? No. Not like that.” You sputtered. “I mean your band. Oasis. I didn’t mean that I flew all the way here and stalked every place to find you. That would be clinically insan—”
You clamped your mouth shut upon realising he was peering at the rapid movements of your lips, and the heat crept up quickly onto your cheeks. “Yer mouth always does that?” He asked, humming quietly afterwards.
“Does what?” You returned, voice not even above a mutter. You couldn’t fucking believe it. Sure, you had seen him perform with your own naked eyes more than once throughout the past few months, except it was a completely different matter now that he was right there with you, exchanging conversations.
Noel nodded towards your lips, gazing. “Runs itself?” He said, now leaning against the wall. “What’s it do when yer not speaking out of ya arse or fuckin’ screaming for me then?”
“Oh my god." You whispered shamefully, head dropping to the floor. It was easy to get lost in the moment and forget that your behaviours at the Oasis shows were part of public viewing, especially his. But it wasn’t only that recognition that pushed you down the route of shamefulness, it was the blatant butterflies and throbbing that you experienced in response to his words. The way he had said it. Almost fucking sultry, like he tried to say one thing on the surface yet meant a completely different thing beneath it.
“Oh yeah.” He laughed with a smug expression. “I fuckin’ recognise ya. Always shoutin’ and cryin’. Thought maybe you blew yer throat out cause of it, s’why I haven’t seen ya around since Wembley.”
You just couldn’t wrap your mind around it. How was it that he had taken so much notice towards your presence? “How’d you know that?”
“Been real quiet since ye been gone, love." He stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. That it should not be a crime for him to take grave notice of your presence and absence, and to quickly mourn it.
You smiled back sheepishly, from the embarrassment and sheer warmth of being recognised by the man you had idolised and fawned over for years on end. “Well, you’re not the only one who’s been busy." You told him.
“Not busy later, are ya?”
That left you pausing momentarily. “Why?”
He didn’t bother to say anything else. Noel waved down the nearest staff, requesting something that was inaudible to you. The waiter appeared a minute later with a pen and a napkin, and the frontman scribbled words onto them before she could interrupt.
“Here.” He said, folding the written napkin into smaller pages before pressing it into the middle side of your lower stomach. No explanations, no warning, only the breath of a whisper brushing your ear. “Don’t leave me wondering where ye have been again.”
The napkin contained the name of his hotel and his room number. Next to it, a scribble that stated 11 p.m.
You hadn’t given yourself much time to think about it. If you did, surely all the different scenarios and addiction of overthinking would come dragging you down. And if there’s one thing that you refused to let happen, it was the possibility of missing out on being alone with Noel Gallagher in his hotel fucking room. God. You had no idea what he wanted from you, why you specifically. You were nothing out of the ordinary, and yet somehow before the two of you went your separate ways by the washroom door, he left by placing a gentle and breathtaking squeeze on your hip. Long enough for your knees to wobble at the thought of his hands on you.
Your legs brought you to his room absentmindedly, and probably for the best. Fingers twiddling on the edge of your short dress, lips gnawing at the insides of your cheek. The bell went off once. Then two soft knocks. You didn’t want to come off rude or too overbearing, but hell, you were losing your fucking mind. You knew not what to expect, although you weren’t naive enough to not understand the subtle implications he had given off. It was also likely why you had abandoned your knickers altogether.
The door opened to reveal Noel in clothes you had never seen him in before. Baggy trousers, the kind where the material’s soft and comfortable enough for a lie in bed, a white t-shirt, and his hair… fucking hell, it was sticking in all kinds of directions, as if the concept of a neat hairbrush meant nothing to him.
He held the door open, eyes flickering up and down your figure, practically leaving you to uneasily shift on both legs. “You wear a dress that short on purpose?”
“Maybe." You said past a feigned confidence. “At least one of us is dressed for the occasion.”
He grinned humorously at that. “Cheeky girl.” Noel responded, ushering you inside before guiding his hand around your waist. Not gripping. Just there. You blinked up at him cluelessly, hand wrapped around his forearm. “Tell me. What d’ya think the occasion is then?”
“You tell me." You returned, taking the time to absorb the sight of the fancy hotel room. His bed already unmade, jeans and a belt thrown over the chair nearby. The room smelled vaguely of his cologne, something you had recognised from earlier that night. “You’re the one who invited me up here. I’m just doing as I’m told.”
You knew in an instant that whatever he had to say next would leave you spiralling for good. And you were right to think so. Weak in the knees. Neck pulsing heavily.
“Yeah?” Noel raised, guiding you by the lower back and further into the room, fingers dipping into the side of your flesh. “S’what all the good girls do, don’t they? Listen.”
The smirk and the knowing tone dripping off his tongue was beyond anything you were able to handle then. Being a fan of the band and his solo work meant that you knew all about Noel’s reputation. Charming. Arrogant. Smug in ways that made women want to touch themselves in respect to unholy thoughts. And the more the two of you spent time in his hotel room - his big thighs pressing against your bare one, knees knocking, his arm thrown absentmindedly behind you… the more it made you regret abandoning your knickers.
Because the dampness was much more unbearable when there was nothing there to soak it up.
You were drenched for what felt like almost two hours. Thighs brushing against your own to soothe the uneasy sensation, and it certainly didn’t help that Noel would begin to allow his fingers to linger on the tip of your shoulder, playing with the thin strap of your dress like he knew exactly the effect he had on you.
But he did nothing more, at least not yet. He asked if you were still studying. What you had graduated in. Your future plans. He wanted to know how long you had been into Oasis for, and how you managed to fund so many dates - even made a harmless joke about you being greedy. It was unlike anything you had imagined. He was gentler in his actions, ultimately further and further away from the grump and arrogance that people made him out to be. He poured you more booze when your glass was nearly empty, tucked your hair behind your shoulder whenever you had laughed so hard, wobbling forward until the rest of your hair covered up the face he so greatly adored. He spoke to you about the reunion, daft little stories from his childhood and the music scene.
He didn’t touch on the matters of his family, and you knew for a fact that it was for the best. Besides, it was only your first proper time together.
The booze began to slightly blur your vision, painting your neck and cheeks with a rosy tint of heat that he had teased you for. Something about being a lightweight, and that he appreciated being around somebody who wasn’t all too familiar with the hedonistic lifestyle.
“I take it I won’t be seeing you again at Wembley?” He asked, drifting away from the previous conversation.
You hummed, playing with the rim of your glass. No longer drinking. You didn’t want to get to a tipping point of being unable to remember the night with ease. “Didn’t get any more tickets for after.”
It was unexpected at first, because yeah, he had stared at you all night long - teased you relentlessly, kept his face close to yours, whispering into your ear and smiling proudly at himself each time he received a sincere laugh out of you. Yeah, he was not entirely fucking subtle. Stared at your mouth more times than you could recall. Your legs. Made various flirty comments. The night was stirring towards a direction that you had long awaited, except you hadn’t expected it to come abruptly. Not in that moment.
A minor gasp choked past your throat when he began to scoop a grip under your bare knees, dragging you closer to his side, legs now dangling over his lap. His expression showed nothing out of the ordinary, no smirk, no playful banter waiting to jump out. Just calm. Relaxed. Comfortable. “Must be gutted not to be able to see me again." He murmured.
You weren't too sure of what to say, and settled with a nod.
“Mhm.” He sounded, swiping his fingers further up along your thigh, sneaking just slightly above the dress. “So fuckin’ am I. Don’t know what I’m gonna do without yer there to shout ya pretty little head off f’me.”
“Plenty of other girls who’d willingly do that for you.” The sound you let out was an utter embarrassment. Breathy. As if you had never been touched in your entire life before.
He shook his head minimally, diving down to press a simple peck on your bare shoulder.. soft in ways one wouldn’t expect from a Gallagher. And you quickly consumed yourself in the darkness, pushing your eyes shut at the mere feeling of his lips, and the fact that it had begun to slowly make its way up your neck, mouth enveloping the core of your throat, breath muttering, “S’not the same.”
“Why not?” You asked, voice betraying how overwhelmed you were with the given proximity. You could practically sense the boyish grin against your skin when you swallowed nervously.
By the time he pulled away, his eyes were blown to the fullest, captivated in the feeling of losing himself in a kind of drug he was entirely familiar with, now failing miserably to resist. “Give us a kiss." He said, pinching your chin with great intention. You obeyed with no second to spare, pressing your lips together and melting instantly into the heated fantasy. Arms sneaking around his neck, Noel supporting the back of your head as he deepened the kiss.. exactly hard enough to prompt a dirty whimper out of you.
He groaned at that, breaking the kiss just to take a good look at how gone you already were. “That’s why. Take a look at that.” Noel started, eyeing the heavy rise of your chest. “Haven’t even put my cock in ya and you’re already losing it.”
“Can you blame me?” You replied, voice small, swallowing.
Noel grinned, once again twiddling onto your dress strap, sharing a silent look of consent. Once you nodded, he pulled them down your shoulders, teasing with purposeful slowness. They began to bundle around your waist - dark bra on display, nipples poking through the laced fabric painfully. He reached behind to unclasp them. Perky breasts now cornered by the cold air, and Noel’s mouth caught yours as soon as another soft whimper echoed around the room.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Noel bit onto your bottom lip, tugging before once again breaking away. He took one breast in his palm, kneading it reverently. Then the other, until both were occupied and distinctly his to adore alone. Your back arched out of instinct at the feeling of his wet, sloppy, and warm mouth enveloping the swell of it whole. “Been thinking ’bout this since that first night in Cardiff… seen you down there screaming f’me all night long. Got me thinking ’bout if you’d be as loud bent over f’me.”
He switched sides, tongue lapping up the other nipple until it left a shiver down your spine. “Yer ever thought ’bout this?” Noel pulled away, eyes locked into yours while the rest of his body gave in to liberty, lightly lifting you by the waist so he could raise the dress to reveal the rest of you for good.
He went still once he had seen it. You had walked into his hotel room with an alluring dress that left nothing to the imagination, and all along.. you were sat there next to him with no fucking knickers on. Cunt already painted with the slight gloss of wet arousal, and he had no clue that you were only one layer away all this time.
“Christ. You’re fuckin’ dirty.” Noel widened both of your legs, mouth parting at the obscene sight of the girl in front of him. Breasts and cunt out, all laid out just for him. “Tell me. What d’ya think of when ye see me up there playing, mhm? Been loud all those while, don’t go fuckin’ silent on me now.”
But it wasn’t easy to string an eloquent sentence when his thumb was now swiping along the stripe of your cunt, spreading your soaked folds and stopping just above your clit - waiting, fucking teasing. Waiting to punish you until you found the function of your mouth and made great use of it. And as soon as you uttered a word, he began circling your clit.
“F–fuck.” You cried, throwing your head back at the sudden pleasure, thighs letting out a shameless tremble. His proud chuckle was heard, accompanied by the continuous encouragement, demanding that you tell him of your wildest dreams. “Just thought of you. Anything—doing anything to me. Touching me like this, just like this, and then… fuck, and then making me gag…”
Noel’s fingers stopped. “On my cock?” He asked in smug disbelief, despite already knowing the answer. “Christ. Want my cock then, don’t you? Mhm? Want it in that mouth of yours? Hitting the back of yer throat till you’re fuckin’ gagging, yeah? S’what you’ve been thinkin’ of when I’m up there playing?”
“Yes… yeah, Noel.” Your body went slack, bucking desperately against his palm for any kind of found pleasure.
But he pulled away, leaving all that desperation lingering around the room, the cold air being the only thing to touch you in places you yearned to be met.
Noel’s muscles were steady and calm. Slow. Grabbing at the waistband of both his trousers and underwear, dragging them down simultaneously to jumble at the ends of his ankles. You had heard stories from the internet before, groupies shared the experience and expressed how he was at sex, that the size of him was more than adequate to keep the rest of you satisfied. You had no idea just how fucking right those reports were. Noel’s cock wasn’t exactly lengthy, but the girth he had forced your tongue into dehydration, for it stood stiff and tall, the tip already leaking with a smear of pre-cum.
He reveled as you took in the sight of him, a hand reaching down to stroke himself lazily, clearly incapable of being left untouched any longer. “C’mere." You heard him say, nodding towards the empty space between his spread legs. “On your knees f’me, baby.”
You scrambled down without hesitation, legs shaking still, knees burning at the friction of the carpet as you dragged yourself toward him, hair falling messily down your face. You didn’t even wait for his grip, for Noel to guide your head to the place he wanted you most. You knew exactly what he wanted, and yourself. Thought about it for longer than he could possibly imagine. You wrapped both hands around him, the warmth clinching at your soul the second he groaned and twitched beneath you. Mouth now opening wide and swallowing him down so fast that he hit the back of your throat, gagging.
“Fuckin’ hell.” He hissed, voice low yet venomous with lust, fist tightening in your hair immediately, jerking your head so you were taking him even deeper than previously. “That’s it. Shit… where’d ya learn to suck cock like that, aye? Jesus… yer like—like you’ve been starving all yer fuckin’ life…”
You could only moan around him, struggling to breathe through your nose, let alone utter a single word. Not that you wanted to, in the first place. God, you wanted to do nor say nothing else now that you were on your knees and at his ultimate mercy, living a sick dream you had prayed for. Your thighs began rubbing together desperately, slick running down your legs, and your nipples painfully poking against the sides of your forearms as you stroked the base of his shaft. You had no idea what you had done to deserve this, but whatever this fucking reward was.. it was enough for your body to betray any restraints, chasing that raw and obscene heat.
He pulled you off momentarily, looking down with wild eyes at the sight of your swollen lips stretched out wide, xatching your breath in sharp inhales, spit stringing glistening ropes from your mouth to his cock each time he shoved himself in and out of you. This time, you took him in again, humming. And that vibration almost buckled his fucking knees. Noel hissed loudly, thrusting further and further with no ounce of care except for the intentions of meeting his pleasure, his hand controlling every desperate bob of your head.
“Fuck. Fuck—yeah, that’s it. Open up f’me, fuckin’ hell!” Noel’s chest heaved with ragged movements, his Mancunian accent now roughened with immense pleasure. Especially more as your hand quickened at his base, pumping in obscene, tight spirals while you swallowed him down, and Noel swore so violently it almost sounded straight out of a raunchy film. His thighs tensed beneath you, the swell of his stomach contracting and knotting tightly. “No girl sucks cock like this… fuck, no fuckin’ one. Can see meself disappearin’ down yer throat. S’what ye fuckin’ think ’bout when I’m up there playing, yeah?”
You whimpered, and then just as he began twitching uncontrollably against the back of your throat, Noel yanked your head back. The sight of you nearly undid him right there and then, the way you blinked with tear brimmed eyes, un half awe, in half feral need. As though you couldn’t comprehend why he had put a stop to it when he was this close to finishing in your mouth.
He took you by the wrist, gently pulling you up to your feet. “Go on then." Noel rasped, one hand now sliding up to your waist, where the rest of your dress remained jumbled. You felt the warmth of his other palm behind your bare thigh, moving you with strong purpose. His cock brushed against your slippery folds, an unholy cry crashing into the room as it did. “Sit on it, love. Show me what else ye thought of.”
Your breath trembled out of your chest as you shifted forward slowly, palms braced on his shoulders, holding his gaze before sinking down with ease, inch by inch, the stretch knocking the air from your tightened lungs. Noel let out a guttural groan, head tipping back against the sofa with a thud. His hands clamped down hard on your hips, holding you there, nudging you closer with every thrust.
“Oh fuck.” He released a ragged sound, eyes squeezing shut at how soaked and warm you were. “Jesus Christ, love. You feel fuckin’ amazing.”
For a moment, neither of you moved. Your sweaty thighs pressed against one another, and Noel watched you with pupils blown, drifting between your sweetened face and the filthy display of your perky breasts. His touch traveled reverently over every part of your naked skin - from your shaky legs up to your hips, waist, the dip of your lower back, inner sides of your spine, and all the way up to the nape of your neck. Just resting there, taking you in before you disappeared. Fingers slowly gripping to steady you, just enough so that when he began thrusting for the first time, you stayed perfectly on him with no room to escape.
The sofa creaked beneath your messy rhythm. Your body bounced helplessly against him as he guided every move. He drowned out each of your debauched whimpers, saliva staining both your mouths as Noel deepened the kiss, teeth clashing impatiently. Sweat dampened his fringe, sticking to his forehead, but he didn’t care… christ, he didn’t fuckin’ care at all. He looked up at you with that hungry, half lidded stare that left you undone. The slick sounds of your cunt taking him in with incredible urgency were beyond imaginable. You felt like you were in heaven - and damn it, maybe heaven was just being fucked by none other than the Noel Gallagher.
“Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’ll fuckin’ cum in you,” Noel warned huskily, voice breaking with sheer intensity. He moved faster, your arse bouncing, the room deafened with the heavy sounds of flesh smacking. You fisted his shirt, desperate, sobbing. “Takin’ me so well, baby. So fuckin’ well. My cock in your cunt, s’how it’s meant to be, eh? No one else gets this.”
Your head fell forward to meet his, arms wrapped around his neck simply because you could no longer handle being fucked this way. You trembled into the nook of his neck, desperate for air, and most of all, still desperate for him. His hands slid lower, spreading across your arse, squeezing harder as he pulled you flush against him with every thrust. Deep until he reached areas no other man had touched before, clit burning against the rough pubic hair he had grown. “Go on, ride me like you fuckin’ mean it. Gonna cum right ’ere on me cock.”
Your body quivered, every thrust dragging you closer to that familiar heat coiling low in your belly, both of you groaning slicker from the arousal dripping out of you. You were slumped against him, moaning and babbling into his ear uncontrollably.
“Noel." You cried, gripping him. “It’s too much… fuck, too much. Feels so good. You’re so—so fuckin’ good.”
Noel felt it, the way you tightened around him, and his grin turned smug, almost victorious. He let out a low, raspy laugh.
“Yeah.. there it is. Gonna come for me, aren’t ya? Fuckin’ told ya. All the good girls listen.” Noel’s groan tore through the room, dropping forward to bite at your shoulder, breath hot and frantic against your skin. His teeth scraped you, prompting a shudder as your hips rolled helplessly now, rhythm messy and desperate. What came next was nothing remotely humane. The distressed clasp on to one another, widened mouths failing to capture the other into a filthy and well needed kiss, hips bucking with a nonsensical synchronisation that appeared more useless than it did useful. Neither of you were practically sat on the couch any longer. You had somehow lifted off the surface completely as Noel slammed further up into your gripping cunt, chasing that orgasm to end both of you.
When it arrived, the arousal choked you into complete slackness. Pulsing around his hardened cock, trembling shamelessly whilst you soaked his thighs and shirt without a single warning.
“Ohhh, that’s it.” Noel moaned, voice heavy with lust, bucking rougher to finish right after you. “Listen to you. Fuck me, wettest thing I’ve ever had.”
You felt it then, the spurt of thick liquid painting your insides, his feral groans bouncing off the walls as he came completely undone. Almost as if not entirely satisfied, Noel reached back to spread your arse, the stretch granting further access into filling you up wholeheartedly.
The rhythm and pace eventually stopped gradually, with only the sounds of your unhinged breathing lightening the room. Other than that, it was quiet. The mess staining between the two of you was the only reminder of what had happened, and somehow a remembrance that neither of you now knew what the future held.
He saw it behind your blinking eyes, and did the one thing he knew to do.. without sentimental verbal affections or immoral emotions to convey to somebody half his bloody age.
Noel simply caught your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing whatever future concerns and doubts running and knocking on every corner of your brain. Because although he had no idea what the future held for either of you, he knew at least one thing:
It wasn’t going to be the last time he saw you again.
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