Forever & Ever more
a continuation of "vampires will never hurt you."
ch. 1 : No bone-jumping allowed. (18+)
pairing liam gallagher x damon albarn
genre smut, comedy
word count 7.6k
warnings/tags vampire!damon, werewolf!liam, dom/sub themes, mild pain kink, masturbation, noel is protective older brother lol, liam is like mad 90% of this chapter
a/n helllooooo i’m bacckkk with more vampwolfff liamon hi. sorry it’s been a while, im turning this into a multi chapter series and possibly long fic idk. i post on ao3 too under furlinedlove if u prefer to read there !
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Liam was exhausted.
He rode the train home slumped back in his seat, eyes hanging heavy and muscles sore from use. The blue windbreaker he borrowed from Damon zipped all the way up to his chin, shielding the view of his well-abused neck from the public - at least he hoped it was.
He didn’t usually take the train, what ‘rockstar’ did? It was a recipe for disaster most of the time. But what else could he do? Call up his manager to send a car to pick him up from Damon Albarn's flat? That wasn't happening.
Luckily for him, the underground wasn’t too busy today - but there was no way he was getting home without some sort of interruption, not this early in the day. He was stopped twice already by blabbering fans, one even pulling a disposable camera out of her bag to take a photo with him.
He usually wouldn’t mind it - the people chattering and pointing at him. In fact, he usually loved it. But Liam currently felt like he was one foot in the grave. Surely it made for a good photo though, a story to tell about how she met a half-dead looking Gallagher brother on the tube.
But now, he’s sitting on the train - sunken into the dingy moquette-clad seat retracing the previous night in his mind. It was surely going to take him a few days to recover - maybe more than a few for his neck to look normal again.
He didn’t want to think about it anymore - didn’t want to keep questioning how he’d ended up in this situation. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep.
So, as the train arrived at his stop, he rose from the seat and dragged himself out of the car and up to the street - feet practically dragging on the floor.
When he finally walked up the steps to his flat it was around 2 o’clock in the afternoon. He reached the door and fumbled around with his coat - then to his jean pockets, only to realize he didn’t have his keys.
Fuck.
He let out a deep sigh and slammed his head into the door, arms going limp in defeat. Now what is he meant to do?
Get back on the train and head back to Damon? Find a phone and call up Noel? Maybe it’d be safer to call his manager.
His thoughts are cut short when the door swings open from the inside, causing Liam to lose his balance and stumble forward, collapsing onto the entrance floor.
Funnily enough - this is the second time he’s found himself on an entrance floor in 24 hours.
The only difference this time is his brother is towering over him, brows furrowed in confusion.
“The fuck have you been?” Noel spoke down at him, reaching down in order to grab his arms and pull Liam up off his knees and to his feet.
“I was about to phone the police, you know - Christ, did you get mugged or somethin’?” He asked once Liam was on his level.
Liam simply shook his head, grumbling out “M’ fine, jus’ tired. You can go home now. Thanks for lettin’ me in”
“Go home? You’re daft if you think you’re gettin’ off that easy - did you turn in public?” Noel scolded, hand still firmly grasped around Liam’s forearm from when he dragged him up off the floor.
“You think I'm that stupid?” Liam hissed back, “Said I’m fine. Can handle myself, m’not a kid.”
“Can’t handle yourself - you don’t even have your keys, do you? And where are your fuckin’ clothes, you’re not wearin’ what you had on last night.”
“I changed you knobhead.” Liam shoved Noel out of the way with his minimal strength and moved further into the flat, taking his shoes off and placing them on the rack. “Y’done drillin’ me? I’m a grown man y’know.”
“Where were you, Liam?” Noel asked again firmly, following him. Liam slowly moved himself through the flat and into the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring blankly into it.
“Was with a friend, does that suffice officer? Actin like me fuckin’ mum.” He finally answered, closing the fridge when he realized he had no food. He would’ve been in a predicament if he was home last night, as there was no meat to be seen. He wasn’t the best at planning.
He huffed out a laugh, just a short exhale through his nose. It amused him that Damon, a vampire, had been more prepared than him. Obviously, he knew Damon had planned the whole thing, a premeditated encounter.
‘‘Just in case’ my fuckin’ arse’ he thought to himself.
In fact, he'd gotten so lost in thought that he’d almost forgotten his brother was standing behind him, eyes boring holes into the back of his head. Liam began to turn around, opening his mouth to say something - but was cut short when he felt Noel’s hand grab at the collar of his windbreaker and pull down sharply.
“You’ve lost the fuckin’ plot Liam, did you go home with some-“ The words quickly died in Noel’s throat when he spotted the actual bite marks, gaping holes in the side of his neck. Liam finally smacked his hand away, fixing the collar of his jacket and scowling at Noel.
Now Liam was really fucked.
“You got your answer then? Done harassin’ me?” He pulled Noel’s hand off of him and tugged his collar back up.
“Fuck’s sake, Liam - who did that?” This time when Liam looked at Noel, he saw a face filled with genuine concern.
“Noel, you’re doing me fuckin’ head in with the questions. I’m turnin’ in, see ya later.” Liam pushed past Noel and out of the kitchen, heading to his room down the hall. “Go home.”
“Y’can’t just-”
“Noel, go the fuck home!” Liam snapped. His exhaustion was affecting his mood.
He wanted to avoid the topic for as long as possible - in fact, he never wanted to speak to Noel about it ever. He’d lose his rag if he found out Damon was a vampire - if he found out what happened.
Noel groaned in annoyance from down the hall, finally letting Liam walk away from him. “Fine, but I'm not gettin’ you out of whatever shite you’ve gotten yourself into.”
-
Liam slept until the next morning. He probably would’ve slept till the morning after that if he hadn’t been woken up by the telephone ringing across his flat.
He slid out of bed - actually slid - and plopped on the floor.
“Christ, what did that fucker do to me?” He muttered, mustering strength in his legs to stand up and stumble out of his room. He walked to his living room where the phone was neatly seated on the side table.
It’d stopped ringing at this point, given it’d taken him a few minutes to get there, so he settled into the couch next to the table. He lacked the strength or motivation to return to his bed, so the couch would have to do.
Now that he was mostly awake, he became painfully aware of how the jeans he hadn’t bothered to take off the day before had dug into his skin in his sleep. He reached down to peel them off - sticky from sweat, the feverish kind. He had to be ill, he surely felt like it. He pressed the palm of his hand to his head, feeling heat radiate from his forehead.
Definitely sick.
So, off came the windbreaker too - leaving him in his underwear sprawled across the couch in his living room.
He almost dozed off again, only to be startled by the phone ringing yet again. He sluggishly reached over and picked it up.
“Hello?” He said unenthusiastically, rather annoyed with the situation - because who calls someone this early in the morning?
There was shuffling on the other side of the phone, but no immediate response.
“Hello?” Liam said again, this time with a tinge of irritation.
“Sorry, Hi.” the voice on the other line finally replied. Liam rolled his eyes at the caller, starting to think it was some fan that had come across his number and decided to see if he’d pick up.
“Who’s this?” He questioned the voice, racking his brain for a list of people who might have his number - there were a lot.
“I’m insulted.” They replied back, and only then did it click in Liam’s head that the ‘anonymous’ caller was Damon. He sort of straightened up, scooting back on the couch and composing himself as if the other man was in the room with him.
“Well how the hell am I s’posed to know? How’d you get my number?”
“Feisty this early in the morning?” was all Damon replied, ignoring Liam’s queries.
“‘Course I am, ruined me fuckin’ beauty sleep, Albarn.” Liam scolded, brows furrowing. He was admittedly pretty grumpy - a mixture of exhaustion and the supposed illness. “And, y’know, usually when people pick up the phone they say ‘Hey, Liam - it’s me, Damon!’ not whatever that was.”
“Yeesh, I'm so sorry, your highness.” Damon scoffed over the phone
”Was tryin’ to be nice, y'know, checking up on you? Told me you were expecting a call - so I'm calling. Can see you’re back to your normal self.”
Liam’s face flushed in embarrassment. He definitely had told Damon to call him, he remembered it pretty clearly.
His mouth had betrayed him, at least that’s what he’s telling himself now.
“Heat of the moment, I guess.” he muttered back into the phone.
“Too late, still not getting rid of me.”
Silence took over the call for a few moments, the shuffling sounds occasionally making an appearance on Damon’s end. Liam stared into the blank wall in front of him - at the other end of the couch - occasionally opening his mouth to say something, but shutting it immediately every time. He was internally panicking - and questioning what he should even do in this scenario.
“So, how do you feel then?” Damon finally spoke.
“Aren’t we s’posed to be rivals or summat like that?” Liam dodged the question, rolling the phone of the cord between his fingers - a nervous fidget
“Liam, I think we’re past that now.” Damon sighed out into the phone.
Then the silence resumed again. He was right, they’d more than passed that line. He dropped the cord and reached up to rub his forehead with his free hand, shutting his eyes and breaching the silence with an obnoxious sigh.
“Feel like shite.” He replied, deciding to actually answer his question. “I Think I'm gettin’ sick.”
“That’s usually how it goes. Maybe I did a bit too much.”
“Maybe? You bastard, looks like I've been mauled! My necks all sorts of colors.” He glanced down, looking at his now bare legs, remembering Damon’s second attack on his thighs. “Legs aren’t as bad, I guess. Still hurts.”
“Don’t complain, you asked for that one.” Damon said in a firm, almost scolding tone. “I’m not sure why you’re acting like you weren’t begging for it.”
Liam’s breath faltered, dropping his sassy demeanor.
“Sorry.” He mumbled, feeling sort of ashamed - his body shrinking into itself like a dog with its tail tucked. Damon was surprisingly Intimidating.
“You’ll get used to it, get a tolerance.” Damon continued, “Sorry you don’t feel well, you want me to bring you anything?”
Liam thought for a moment, ceasing his fidgeting. He hadn’t eaten anything since leaving Damon’s flat, he had no medicine, and his fridge was empty aside from an almost-empty and possibly expired carton of milk, and maybe some beers.
“y’got ulterior motives Albarn?”
“Not unless you want me to.”
“Absolutely not,” Liam replied quickly. “Need’ta recover.”
“Didn’t know you had such little stamina, wouldn’t have expected that.” Damon teased, causing Liam to furrow his brow.
“Got plenty of stamina - sure I've got more than you, old geezer. You know full well that-“
“You want me to come over or not?” Damon interrupted, “I’ll bring food and medicine.” he said, like he could read Liam’s mind. Maybe he could, Liam didn’t really know all the details of the vampire thing.
“I’m jus’ gonna be restin’ the whole time, won’t be
amusing or anythin’.”
“Liam, yes or no?” Damon said with an annoyed sigh, and Liam could almost picture him rolling his eyes in his head.
“Yeah, alright.”
-
Rain was beating down on the windows hard - it wasn’t a storm, just heavy droplets falling from the sky and smacking onto rooftops and windows.
By the time Damon got to his flat - which was strangely quick - he had actually managed to get up and shower. It was a short one, just to wash the sweat off and let the warm water soothe his wounds. He put on a fresh pair of underwear and socks. He thought about putting on trousers - only thought about it - before deciding it was too much effort.
He slowly made his way to the door when he heard the shrill buzz of his broken doorbell.
You'd think for the lifestyle he lived and the money he makes, he would have gotten it fixed - or moved out of this flat in general. But he liked it. It was warm and homey - and relatively out of the way, so it was private - and honestly, he couldn’t be arsed to deal with it.
He cracked the door open, just enough for half of his face to peek through - the chain lock keeping him from opening it any further.
“Delivery!” Damon said in a cheerful tone, raising the large brown paper bag up in the air and wiggling it back and forth a bit.
“How’d ya get here so fast?” Liam inquired, squinting at him through the crack in the door. Damon simply put his other hand up in the air defensively.
“A magician never reveals his secrets.” He replied, a shit-eating grin growing on his face. Liam scanned him, all the way from the top of his head down to his trainers. His clothes weren’t damp, but he had no umbrella. Damon’s wide smile reduced itself to a soft one - one that almost felt forced - and he exhaled a sigh. “Does it matter? I’m here now, and it’s rainin’. I’ll catch a cold too at this rate.”
“Swear y’not gonna try and jump my bones soon as I open the door?” He closed the door a little more, making the crack smaller.
“Believe it or not, I do have self restraint.” The blonde was becoming visibly irritated, “I swear.”
Liam shut the door and swiftly slid the chain out, swinging it open and allowing Damon to come in.
Damon dramatically gasped when he laid eyes on the boxer clad figure in front of him.
“Liam! Have you no decency?”
“Leave it. Actin’ like you haven’t seen it, stop bein’ dramatic or I’ll shut you out.” Liam spoke, nose flaring in distaste.
Damon was chipper, much to his dismay. All he wanted to do was shut the blinds and crawl back into bed - whereas Damon looked ready to run a marathon.
“Doin’ too much. s’too fuckin’ early. Expectin’ me to get all dressed up when you’re the one who’s got me all sick.”
“Alright, alright.” Damon chuckled and walked into the flat just enough for Liam to shut and lock the door behind him. The moment Liam turned to face the other, Damon leaned in quickly and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips - short and sweet.
“Oi.” Liam said firmly, jerking his head away and forcing a frown - but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “What’d I say?”
“That does not classify as ‘bone-jumping’.” Damon said in a matter-of-fact manner. Peaking around the corner and down into the hall. “Kitchen?”
He didn’t argue, didn’t respond at all. Just pointed towards a door down the hall and watched as Damon walked down it and disappeared into the kitchen. He heard cupboards opening and closing - some clanking sounds followed.
“Actin’ like he owns the place. Why does everyone act like they own the place?” Liam muttered to himself, making his own way down the hall and lumbering into the kitchen.
Damon was standing in the kitchen with his back turned to Liam, fiddling with some sort of soup container. He half turned his head back, just to look at Liam briefly, before grabbing something else out of the bag and throwing it onto the island.
The small box slid across the granite before it came to a stop at the edge of the counter. Liam shuffled over and picked it up, examining the box.
“There’s your medicine, that’ll do, right?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He answered, ripping open the cardboard and taking it out. He slid onto the stool and punched the pill out, popping it into his mouth and swallowing it dry.
He fiddled with the empty plastic for a moment, glancing up at Damon who was now putting the mystery soup into a bowl and digging a spoon out of one of the drawers.
It felt odd, seeing Damon standing in his kitchen. It felt odd interacting with him like this - sober, alone, not ‘turned’. In his own home - not at a party or a show. And he realized that this wouldn’t be the last time, either. It was sort of freaking him out. Damon placed the bowl in front of him.
“Eat it.” He said, rounding the island and taking a seat at the stool next to him. Liam put down the plastic and gently grabbed the spoon, beginning to eat the soup. He glanced over at Damon, who was simply sitting there watching.
“You not gonna eat?” Liam flicked his eyes down to the soup and then back up to Damon’s face, squinting with distrust. “You tryin’ to poison me? What’d you put in it?”
“Don’t need to, remember?” Damon replied, lifting his hand up and tapping the side of his mouth. “Why in the world would I want to poison you?”
“Dunno, maybe this was your plan to become the biggest star or summat. Seduce Liam, Offer him poisoned soup.” Liam started rambling on
“That’ll backfire, jus’ so you know - if I die, I'll become a legend and Oasis will sell even more records, then you’ll regret killin‘ me. And then you’ll be sad I'm dead cos’ I’m real cool. And pretty good in bed.”
Damon blinked at him for a moment, absorbing the bizarre accusation.
“Liam, I'm not poisoning you.” He laughed, moving his elbow up to rest on the counter and playing his chin in his hand, propping his head up. “You taste too good to kill, anyway”
“That all i’m good for then? Delicious blood?”
“Maybe.” Damon shrugged and Liam opened his mouth to argue, but not before Damon shook his head and stood up. He returned to the half full container of soup and began to package it back up.
“Stop talking, gonna wear yourself out. Finish your food.”
-
Liam didn’t finish the soup, he couldn’t. By the time he was halfway done with it, nausea rose in his stomach. The medicine helped, but it also made him even drowsier than before. He pushed the bowl away from him and shook his head lightly, a silent ‘I’m done’.
Damon took the bowl and began to clean the kitchen up as Liam stood up from the stool with wobbling legs and made his way out of the kitchen and back into his living room.
His hair was now mostly dry from his shower, but the feverish sweat had returned and the wispy strands of his fringe had begun to stick to his forehead. He pushed them up off his face and crawled onto the couch, half-curled up into a ball.
Maybe ten minutes later, Damon stuck his head through the doorway of the living room and spotted Liam in his pathetic state. He made his way over and shook his shoulder lightly with his hand.
“Move over.” he said when Liam craned his neck back to look up at him. The half asleep man scooted down and weakly lifted his upper half to let Damon sit next to him. He propped his feet up on the coffee table, relaxing into the couch.
Liam took this as an invitation to use his lap as a pillow, lying back down and resting his head.
“Yer takin’ up my space, this is your payment.” He stated as if Damon would argue - though they both knew he wouldn’t. He felt Damon’s hand comb through his hair - petting him. It was a pleasant feeling, it made him feel all tingly and relaxed. He hummed contently into Damon’s shirt, leaning into his touch.
It almost felt domestic, like this was a routine. Liam sort of basked in it - the comfort and security of it all. It was new to him, usually this was his job - at least it was with every girl he’d been with.
But Damon was a bloke.
That thought sort of smacked him in the face. He hadn’t been thinking about it much, surprisingly, And he was shocked at how much it didn’t bother him - not at this moment at least. He didn’t mind it, being coddled. He was content, at peace.
But it was short lived as Damon removed his hand. Liam shifted his face so that he could open one eye and look up at Damon in protest, only to feel the pad of his thumb dig into the bruises on his neck.
“Fuck!” Liam groaned out in pain, snapping his own hand up to try and pull him off to no avail. “Stop-“ he slurred out when his thumb began to rub into the marks. “Why’re y’doin that?” He slurred out, voice catching in his throat when Damon pressed down again.
“It’ll help it heal, increases the blood flow.” Damon stated, letting up on the bruises for a moment - only to dig his thumb back in harder than before. Liam glared up at him - and with one look at his face he knew it was utter bullshit. Damon looked down at him with a toothy grin, Liam’s eye catching on his unsheathed fangs.
“Put those away you bastard.” Liam reached his hand up and shoved his palm against Damon’s chin, pushing his head to the side and attempting to wiggle out of his grip. “I’m tryin’ t’sleep, let go.”
“Although, it might make it worse - maybe they won’t heal.” Damon said, ignoring Liam’s pleads. His words were partially muffled from the way Liam's palm pushed against him. Although his head was askew, his eyes still pointed sharply at the man below him.
It seemed to be some sort of routine with Damon - a ritual - to butter Liam up and draw him in before attacking, like a predator to their prey. It almost seemed transactional, in a way.
Liam wouldn’t say he minded it, but at the moment he was pretty pissed.
He was pissed at the fact he couldn’t move, was in pain, and he couldn’t go to sleep like he so desperately wanted and needed to - but what pissed him off the most was the fact that the grind of Damon’s thumb into the marks on his neck was turning him on.
“You’re fuckin’ mental- I can’t go out lookin’ like this. They need t’heal, let go.” Liam hissed at him, finally pulling his own hand back down since it was apparent that Damon was not going to stop. “Y’want me to wear a polo-neck for the rest of my life?” He used his elbow as leverage to try and pry himself out of Damon’s grasp, pushing against the couch and lifting himself up.
Only then did Damon take his hand off of Liam’s neck and press his palm flat against his chest, pushing him back down onto the couch.
“Or you could let everyone see them - maybe they’d take a hint and leave you alone. Not that you mind the attention, I'm sure.”
He dragged eyes down Liam’s body, landing his gaze on his pants.
“Y’know for how mad you're acting, you’re awfully hard, Liam.”
“S’not my fault.” Liam muttered, face red and eyes averted from Damon’s gaze. He tried to curl back up into a ball - to shield himself.
“Hey, don’t let me stop you.” Damon said, pulling his legs off the coffee table and leaning down to hover his face over Liam’s - a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You can take care of that, I don’t mind.”
“Are you kiddin’ me?” Liam snapped back at him, eyebrows pulled together and face scrunched up in anger. “You knew what you were doin’”
“Sorry, pet - I made a promise, remember?”
Liam was really eating his own words now. He scowled, sitting up and shoving Damon away from him with his elbows.
“Fine, you fuckin’ dickhead.” He faced away from Damon, wiggling his boxers down just enough to let his dick spring free. He wrapped his fingers around it, giving it a firm squeeze and a single, slow drag down to the base. His hips slightly stuttered forward and his thighs twitched - a small, pathetic moan crawling up his throat.
He could do this quickly, get it over with and go to bed - but he could feel Damon’s eyes on him, staring. It almost felt as if he was being judged - and it was definitely hindering his performance.
This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten off in front of someone, he’d consider himself decently experienced in this realm. But something about this time was different. Something about the irritation flowing through his body and the dizziness of his fever-fogged head. Something about Damon’s gaze - he felt shy. He moved slowly, muscles still weak and hands shaking. He felt Damon shift behind him, bringing his own legs up onto the couch and snaking his fingers around Liam’s hips, pulling him backward onto his own lap.
“Don’t touch me.” Liam barked, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose in response to Damon’s gesture.
“Not touching, just watching.” Damon purred into Liam’s ear, breath tickling his earlobe and sending a chill down the back of his neck. Liam was pretty sure this counted as touching - but he let it slide.
He quickened his movements, pumping himself with a bit more enthusiasm. “What’re you thinking about?” he questioned, resting his head on Liam’s shoulder and peering down at the display below him.
Liam simply shook his head, refusing to open his mouth anymore - he feared what he would let slip out. He could feel Damon’s own hardness beneath him, pressing into his backside, but neither of the men paid it any mind. He pressed a kiss to the side of Liam’s head,
“Don’t be stubborn, pup.” he murmured. Liam still refused.
Damon slid his hands off Liam's hips and down to his thighs, sliding his boxers down a bit more so he could dig his fingers into the soft flesh.
Liam was able to maintain his silence until Damon decided to lean down and nibble on his bruised neck. He made a strangled noise, his pace faltering and legs drawing together. Liam could almost feel the pride radiating off of Damon - and although he couldn’t see his face, he could imagine his cocky grin. He cursed at himself under his breath for giving him the satisfaction.
”M’ thinking ‘bout how you could never make me feel this good, anyway.” Liam finally spoke, taunting Damon with his words. He watched his own hand slide up and down his cock, the tip disappearing and reappearing into his fist. His heart fluttered when he pictured Damon’s slender fingers replacing his own. He knew full well it was a lie, but he was determined to set him off.
Damon shoved a hand into Liam’s hair almost instantaneously, pulling his head back to let their eyes meet, locking onto each other. Damon finally made a move, grinding his hips up into Liam’s ass.
“You’re a bad liar, Liam.” He growled. “Less than 48 hours ago you rode my thigh until you were shaking. I didn’t even have to touch you and I bet it felt a million times better than whatever this is. Pathetic, really - I'd be shocked if you could finish like this.”
“Oh, fuck-“ Liam choked out when he felt Damon’s hand squeeze his thigh again, pushing his fingers into the previously-made bite mark. He instinctively pushed himself back onto Damon’s lap, grinding down.
“Look how bad you want it, you’re practically drooling thinking about my dick shoved up your arse, aren’t you?” Liam whined when Damon’s grip tightened on his hair, pulling hard. He was overstimulated with pain and pleasure. He slid his thumb over this slit of his dick, hips twitching forward and his movements becoming sloppy. “It’s a shame, innit? Can’t touch you.”
“Yer already touchin’ me“ He choked out “Please jus’-“
“No.” Damon sneered, “Said you didn’t need me, yeah? So do it yourself. Be a good boy.” He dipped back down to nibble on Liam’s neck again, tongue occasionally darting out to kitten lick at the wounds. Thankfully, he didn’t suck anymore bruises into his skin or sink his fangs in - although Liam could tell he wanted to.
“Was thinkin’ about it - maybe I’ll let you try it sometime, fuckin’ me. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Damon murmured into his skin, a smile spreading when he saw Liam’s hips pick up speed once more.
He nodded frantically, gasping out a string of curses and ‘please’s.
“I like fuckin’ you though, and I don’t even know if you could even finish without somethin’ up your arse anymore. You took it so naturally, like you were made for it.” Damon continued “And when you’re all better, and you let me - I’m gonna do it again. Fuck you so hard you forget your name, your bands name. I’ll bite you all over, drain all your sweet blood. Cumming so hard you see stars - make you mine, even though you already are.”
It took one final thrust of Damon’s hips against his backside and one more pump of his hand for Liam to finally release all over his own knuckles and thighs, legs shaking and head thrown back, mouth agape with a loud moan spilling out. He weakly stroked himself through it, muttering Damon’s name like a prayer.
“Oh look, you can still do it by yourself.” Damon hummed, “What a pity.”
“Shuddup.” Liam slurred out, attempting to wiggle out of Damon’s grasp on his hair and thigh. Damon released him, letting Liam slide out of his grasp and onto the floor. “You fuckin’ wanker - now i’m gross again. Jus’ took a shower. What happened to letting me recover?”
“I’m the wanker?” Damon snickered, watching as Liam shimmied his boxers back up, scowling at the mess on his hand and legs. He shot Damon a nasty look at the comment, pulling himself back up by the edge of the couch to stand on his feet and make his way to the bathroom adjacent to the living room. Damon followed after him quickly, jumping up off the couch, and leaning against the bathroom door as Liam began to wash his hands and wet a cloth.
“Okay, I'm sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” Liam scoffed, wiping himself down quickly - refusing to face Damon. “Are y’gonna let me sleep now? You’re lucky m’not kickin’ you out, Albarn.” Damon frowned, dipping his head down to invade Liam’s space - face to face, forcing eye contact - queue the puppy-dog eyes. Liam jerked back at his sudden movement.
“You actually mad at me?” He questioned. Liam thought about it for a second - did he enjoy it? Yeah. Was he still mildly annoyed? Yeah. Was he over it already? Pretty much.
“Nah.” He admitted softly after a moment, darting his eyes away. “S’fine, it was good - i just wanna sleep. M’gonna pass out at this rate. Sure hope you’re not expecting anything else, though.” He glanced down, then back up. Damon let out a sigh of relief - reaching out to cup Liam’s face and pull him in, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.
“Nope, let’s go to bed.” He replied, pulling away, moving out of the doorway, and letting Liam slip out past him, following him down the hall to the bedroom. Liam felt relief, he was this close to his soft, warm bed. His head was still spinning from the fever and he was fully spent, now all he had to do was crawl under the covers and let himself sink into a sweet, blissful sleep.
He had just crossed the threshold into his bedroom - Damon following suit behind him - when he heard the sound of the front door's knob jiggle, swing open, and a string of curses slung into the air.
“Fuckin’ rain!” One final curse came with a slam of the front door. Damon’s head whipped back, face falling and eyes widening. Liam let out a loud, dramatic groan and threw his head back, bringing his hands up to cover his face in anguish.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill someone, swear down.”
-
When Noel turned the corner from the doorway to the hall, he stopped dead in his tracks. He and Damon stood at opposite ends of the hall, staring at each other wide eyed - like two deer caught in headlights. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, at a loss for words.
“Er- Hello, Noel.” Damon spoke first, an awkward, unsure smile forming on his face. He snuck a glance at Liam who was still standing in his bedroom, just out of view.
“Wha- How the the fuck did you get in?” Noel finally spat out “Where’s Liam? You break in?”
Damon, who was now stuttering and mumbling something incoherent, flicked his gaze over to Liam again, begging for an intervention. Liam peaked his head around the corner, giving Noel a dirty look. He silently thanked God that Noel hadn’t come in any earlier, and mentally cursed himself for giving him his spare key.
“You ever heard of knockin’?” Liam spoke, “Every time I wanna have a lie down you show up, didn’t even think to ring me?”
“I did knock, you tosser.” Noel retorted, “You just gonna pretend like the blonde cunts not standin’ there?”
Liam turned his head to look up at Damon - still frozen next to the doorway.
“Well, what about him?” Liam shrugged.
Noel’s face fell, eyebrows drawing together in shock and confusion.
“What d’you mean what about him - since when did you two get friendly?” He snapped, shooting daggers at Damon.
“Brat awards.”
“Brat awards? You two were fighting like cats and dogs the whole night. When-“ He paused for a moment, eyes flicking between the two suspiciously. His body sort of curled in on itself - neck drawn in like a turtle into its shell - and his face paled, displaying a disgusted look. “You’re jokin’”
“Actin’ like you weren’t all cuddled up an’ giggling with him durin’ the shoot. What’ve I got to joke about?” Liam replied, looking between the two men before him.
Damon looked like he’d seen a ghost - his confidence had faltered completely, a stark contrast to his actions from less than fifteen minutes ago. Liam wanted to smack him.
“Yeah, I think I got it.” Noel said, ignoring Liam’s comments, face still twisted into a grim expression. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shuffling uncomfortably. “Got a leech now, have you?“
“A leech?” Damon broke his silence now. “You callin’ me a leech?” he scoffed, clearly not a fan of Noel’s little nickname.
“That’s what you are, though, aren’t you?” Noel spat back “Do you prefer tick?”
“Alright - sod off, Noel.” Liam interjected this time “What’s he done to you?”
“Breathed the same air as me, that’s what he’s done. Now he’s lurkin’ around you, he probably wants to kill you - you know that, right?”
“Would’ve done it by now then, wouldn’t I have?” Damon retorted, now approaching Noel swiftly at the other end of the hallway in order to argue with him face to face.
“Considering the state he’s in you might’ve tried already. Unless you’re usin’ him? You mark him already?”
“Mark me?” Liam cut in again “Waddya mean by that?” Noel and Damon paused their bickering and looked back at Liam for a moment. Noel’s expression grew angrier, fists balling up in anger.
“You did it without tellin’ him? Evil bastard.” He spat at Damon.
“I didn’t do anything - would you quit jumping to conclusions?”
“Christ - could you two take this outside or summat? I’ve been tryin’ to sleep for hours.” Liam groaned, an aching pain forming in his head.
“I’ll leave, it’s fine - get some sleep. We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Damon replied, nodding at Liam and pushing past Noel.
“Runnin’ away now, eh?” Noel taunted.
“Noel. Do one, will ya?” Liam hissed, “Why’re you here, anyway?” He’d now made his way fully into the hall, mirroring the two on the other end. “Y’got a bad habit of bargin’ in to me gaff like you own the place.”
“We’ve gotta go to the studio, you twat. Ya ever look at your calendar? Cars outside.” And of course, Liam didn’t - that’s what Noel and his manager were for. His shoulders drooped and he let out a sigh.
“Mmm, gonna have to rain check, mate. Sick.”
“Sick?” Noel snorted, “What’s he here for then?” He gestured behind him to where Damon hovered, eyes darting back and forth between Liam and the door - a sort of silent plea for permission to leave.
“He was just leavin’.” Liam said, giving Damon the push he needed to slip out the door without a word and disappearing back into the rain. Noel let out a laugh of disbelief.
“Befriending cowards now?”
“Leave it.” Liam snapped, thoroughly fed up with both of them.
“You’re not gettin’ out of it - cars waiting, be ready in ten.”
-
Liam had climbed into the back seat of the car and immediately slumped into the leather seats, pressing his forehead to the cold, glass window, streaked with rain. He closed his eyes, attempting to get some shut eye before they arrived at the studio.
He focused in on the sound of the rain pattering against the car roof and the scratching of Noel writing something in his notebook in the seat next to him. He felt slightly fidgety, a bit nervous. He knew Noel had more to say, he was just waiting for the words to come out of his mouth.
“Y’got a death wish?” There it was. Liam peaked an eye open and glanced over at Noel.
“Tryin’ to sleep.”
“They’re master manipulators, you know. Right bastards.” Noel continued, not looking up from his journal. Liam looked to the rear view mirror, making brief eye contact with the driver in the front seat. The driver looked away quickly, back towards the road. Liam shifted uncomfortably in his seat and nervously tugged at his coat collar.
“Can we talk about this later? Like, in private?”
“All I'm saying is that I better not find you dead on your living room floor.”
“Christ, Noel. Y’won’t.” Liam muttered, shifting again and returning his forehead to the window. Quiet filled the car for a few minutes - Noel had stopped writing and the rain had let up. The car eventually pulled into the studio’s parking lot.
“Y’know, i’m only saying it cause I care about you.” Noel spoke again, this time turning to look at Liam.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Noel.” He replied, prying his eyes from the wet, dreary outdoors to glance at Noel and give him a sharp nod - a ‘can you please shut up’ nod.
Once the car came to a complete stop, Liam immediately popped the lock on the door and stepped out - speed walking to the doors of the studio. The velocity at which he’d stood made him light headed - partially due to his still lingering fever- so he slightly stumbled through the parking lot. He heard Noel snicker behind him.
He knew the tension would pass, that Noel would get over it - But acclimating him to Damon’s presence might take longer.
That was, if he even had to. Only if Damon stuck around - only if Liam let him. He wasn’t so sure about it at the moment, it felt like things were moving fast. Too fast. It’d only been a few days, one of which they didn’t even speak (or rather, Liam had slept through), yet he let Damon into his home as if it was simply routine. He didn’t know anything about him, really - not deeper than surface level. Maybe Damon didn’t want him to know.
Maybe Noel was right.
Maybe this was some sort of manipulation tactic - maybe Damon cast some sort of spell on him. Can vampires do that? He wouldn’t have been surprised considering the fang situation.
Even disregarding the whole vampire situation - there was still the fact that, as far as the general public was aware, they were ‘rivals’. They were at each other's throats on the charts, slagging each other off in interviews (admittedly, that was mostly Liam himself), and butting heads at awards shows.
Maybe this was Damon’s way of getting intel, like a spy. ‘Sleeping with the enemy’, or whatever they say. Although, those would be great lengths to go to just for an inside scoop.
Maybe Liam's just paranoid.
His thoughts spiraled as he entered the studio, but he put on a quick smile to greet the team. He immediately made his way over to the sofa on the far end of the room. It was old - practically falling apart - clearly worn down by years of use. He plopped down into the sunken cushions, relaxing and closing his eyes yet again. The rest of the band got to work pretty quickly.
He knew he didn't technically need to be here, they weren’t even recording his vocals today - but of course Noel would drag him here anyway. Typically, in his spare studio time, he, bonehead, and a few other lads would go kick a football around in the grass patch just out back of the building - or hover over Noel while he worked.
Unfortunately, this time he’s having an existential crisis in the corner about his love life - if thats even what you’d call this. Noel’s concerns were getting to him - and he was probably at least half-right. Noel had some sort of sixth sense when it came to things like that, although Liam hated to admit it.
He just had to talk to Damon, it was that simple. Time to start asking questions.
Now that his thoughts had slightly quieted, he found himself drifting off again - this time without interruption. He tuned the noises of the room out and sunk into sleep.
-
He awoke to a cold hand pressed against his forehead, and someone chucking a bottle of water at his gut.
“Oi!” He yelped, swatting the hand away and cradling his stomach. When his eyes readjusted, he realized the cold hand was Bonehead, towering over him. It was safe to assume the water was a gift from Noel. How kind.
“Christ, yer burnin’ up. Don’t think he was lyin’ Noel.”
“Not my fault - lyin’s his specialty, innit?” Noel said, now returned to the mixing table. “Besides, if you found him how I found him, you'd've thought he was lyin’ too.” This earned a puzzled look from Bonehead. He simply shook his head.
“Not gonna ask.”
“Better off that way.” Noel replied. Liam was still dazed from his sleep, flicking his eyes between the two, cogs slowly turning in his brain. His mouth was dry, so he reached down and picked up the water bottle - which had now rolled off his stomach and onto the floor - and cracked it open.
“What time s’it?” He asked, before taking a sip. He didn't even know what time it was when he got there - he hasn’t really checked the time since he woke up this morning.
“‘Bout six, you’ve slept for a couple hours.” Bonehead replied, now sat back at the table with Noel and their producer, Owen. “We’ve got some finishin’ up to do but I called you a car, thought you should get home.”
Noel made a ‘mmm’ sound in response to this - whether it was in approval or annoyance, Liam couldn’t tell.
“Yeah, Alright man - thanks.” Liam nodded, sitting up and collecting himself - fixing his disheveled hair.
When the car pulled up, Liam made his way outside and once again sat himself in the backseat. He greeted the driver briefly, and settled in for the thankfully short ride home.
The nap had helped, he wasn't as desperate for sleep anymore - but he was definitely still groggy. It was probably time for him to take more medicine too. Thank god Damon had brought some, it saved him a trip to the store.
That thought brought him back to his previous worrying - how he was going to talk to Damon, when he was going to see him again and -
Shit.
Damon still had his keys.
He’d completely forgotten that Noel had to let him into his own apartment when he came home the other morning - why didn't he ask Damon to bring them to him this morning? He rubbed his face in his hands and let out a quiet groan - this was going to be a longer trip than he had anticipated.
He cleared his throat and called out to the driver.
“Eh- sorry, D’you think i could give you a different address?
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ayyy ok first chapter kinda booty but its ok - lmk what yall think or dont, ima edit my masterlist to include the chapters n shit