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Guitar callused fingers circled around Liam's pale neck, faintly rubbing over that faint Adam's apple that has yet to become pronounced—proof of his innocence. He stayed like that for a while, just deliberating, fingers caressing Liam's pulse over and over. His skin was silky smooth, unmarred from the trauma of age. Lucky enough to dodge that unlike Noel.
He was sleeping soundly, and Noel had silently padded over to his side of the room, climbed onto his bed, and straddled him. Liam always did sleep like a rock, so the most reaction he got was a slight furrow of the brow and a faint muscle spasm. He wondered what he was dreaming about. Was it like Noel's dreams at his age—dreams of getting away, leaving with his brothers and Mam and escaping the monster that lurked in every corner of his life—or, now, where the focus of his dreams always sported a pair of baby blue eyes identical to his own. Noel's seen the way Liam's eyes linger, recognized the heat burning behind his eyes because he'd known it—knows it—so the latter didn't seem so unlikely. No, he was sure Liam was dreaming of him. Just like he was sure he could feel the blood pumping through Liam's veins, giving his little brother vitality and his skin its lively, youthful hue, tanned from always being out playing football with his mates.
He slowly lifted Liam's legs, pulling his pyjamas down, unsurprised to find no pants underneath. Just more laundry, innit? he could practically hear him drawl. Noel thought it was because Liam had nothing to fear. Not from their da' or anyone else.
He wanted to see all of him, his Liam, so he lifted his shirt as well, carefully so as to not wake Liam—like he were a doe, any sudden movement cause to scare. He admired the smooth expanse of his stomach, taut and slightly concave to emphasize the dipping keys running across his rib cage as he breathed in and out. His poor Mam couldn't afford much food these days, having just moved away from the old house and no longer having access to what little his da' would give to Peggy to support the kids. Noel would give most of his food to Liam (because he was his big brother, he had to provide for him. Stand in as his father, 'cause who else would?) but it seemed his stomach was a bottomless pit and the food would never catch up to his teenage metabolism. But maybe Noel liked it better this way, Liam being so small. A couple inches over him meant nowt if he could easily wrap his fingers around his waist and manhandle him, work him like a puppet.
He traced the callused pad of his finger over Liam's nipples, greedily watching as they responded to his touch and hardened . He dipped his hands down lower, curling around the valley of his thin waist, down to the slight widening of his narrow hips. He experimentally groped Liam's soft prick, still small enough he could cup it in his hands. He liked that about Liam. Rubbed his thumb over the slit, to which Liam shivered. He retracted his hand, then, not wanting to awake him yet, and reached further down to the lovely, furled pink in between his legs. Noel couldn't help but marvel at how all of this was for him; how lucky he must be to have this gift from God in his hands—this angel sent down from Heaven just for him.
His eyes darted back to Liam's face, and he was still sleeping softly, mouth slightly parted and a small dribble of drool running down his chin. Noel wiped it away tenderly, running his thumb over his lips which were a lovely shade of pink, and dragging his finger downward, revealing the glistening red beyond. He plunged two of his fingers in, then four, wriggling them around to coat them with as much saliva as possible before withdrawing, spit snapping as he did so. Liam merely sputtered, and, for a moment, Noel was worried he'd choke on his own spit, because then that'd mean he wouldn't leave this world on Noel's terms.
He wrapped his spit-slick fingers around Liam tenderly, stroking him to half-mast while he leaned down and connected his lips with Liam's briefly, unable to resist the urge to devour him. Liam bucked his hips up involuntarily, chasing the hot friction of Noel's hand. He took his time, drinking in all of Liam before taking his hands off his prick when he suspected Liam was close to waking up or reaching his release. He slipped his hands around his neck, and he didn't hesitate this time. Just pressed down, all while looking down at his little brother like he was the most beautiful boy in the world, like he was destined for great things. Maybe in another world, where they could be together.
Liam's bright blue eyes burst open, wide and scared, and he instinctively struggled around the hands wrapped around his neck, until he saw it was only Noel, and a pall of peace must have fallen over him, then, because he stilled and his eyes glazed over, surely from the pure shocks of euphoria Noel was sending through Liam's bloodstream, straight to his rapidly beating heart; though it seemed his chest had stopped rising, now, the flutter of his eyes shutting out the light forever. Noel was consumed with love, seeing Liam accept him so dutifully, and bent down to press a kiss to his pillowy lips, biting down and drawing blood that seemed to bead endlessly no matter how many times he licked it up. A sheen of spit glossed over Liam's lips, and his cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, his hair sweaty and clinging to his forehead. His skin was cooling and noticeably paler—his vivacious hue replaced in favour of a more pallid tone.
Liam's never looked more beautiful.
Noel decided he'd bury him in lily-white, then, his angelic features to complement. He'd fit right in up in Heaven, prancing around with all the other cherubic angels. His Liam is stunning—always has been—but he thinks the grim palette of death elevates his appearance so beautifully.
He brought his fingers down to Liam's entrance, gently easing his way in. He looked like a doll, now, so fragile and a sort of untouchable elegance cast about him. He thrusted in, and Noel swore he could feel Liam shudder and moan. He spread his digits, scissoring into him and curling upwards. He spent what felt like hours doing that, and when he withdrew, certain that Liam was ready for him and wouldn't be harmed, (because he did care for him; after all, Liam was his baby brother, he'd always protect him) he lined himself up and sunk into him, grounding his hips against his pelvis and groaning at how Liam still managed to mould to his needs so perfectly even post-mortem. He was flush against him now, and he stared in awe down at where his body connected to Liam's. He looked virginal, immortalized in his innocence, and Noel wished someone had done this for him before it was too late. He licked Liam's face, and then along his neck, suddenly consumed with the hedonic urge to sink his teeth deep into him and he lamented that he hadn't decided to put Liam to rest that way. Only for a moment, though, because watching Liam's soul slide out of him, knowing his bare hands caused that, more than made up for it.
Even so, he bit down and sucked a mark in the depression of Liam's collarbone, which bruised rather easily to a lovely cocktail of violet and red. Seeing Liam change at his will like a malleable bit of clay, without all the stubborn resistance, was intoxicating.
Liam felt so tight around him, and he fucked into his limp body slowly, like it were their wedding night. Maybe he'd slip a ring onto him after, Noel engraved into the metal, and nobody would be able to object, not even Mam or Paul. He'd whisper his vows to him every night before joining him beneath the soil, to their own little world beyond. Together, untouchable.
When Liam fluttered around his length, he came with a stutter of his hips, pressing deep inside of his Liam's lifeless body and looking down at his shut eyes, eyelashes so perfectly long and brushing against his cheekbones, like he were an eternally sleeping beauty.
He wrapped his arms around Liam, still anchored inside with no intent to pull out, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, murmuring, "I love you, fuck. Perfect, our kid."
He kept Liam, after all. He didn't want to bury him, let him rot underground where his beauty would be wasted, never to shine again.