They’re in the dressing room: him, Louis, and Niall. Niall’s flipping through a magazine someone left for them, Zayn stepped out to take a call, and Liam’s somewhere else— Harry’s not sure where. But he should be back soon, and so will Zayn. Louis’ texting and Harry’s staring at his thumbs moving across the screen, chewing his bottom lip and thinking about whether or not this is a good time to try. Soon, all the boys will be in here, and no one else will be. That’s an opportunity he doesn’t want to waste.
He’s already sitting close to Louis on the couch, but he moves even closer, so they’re pressed up against each other; Louis molds to his body instinctively. Harry drops his hand onto Louis’ knee and Louis doesn’t react. Sits there, still texting, not looking up. So Harry slides his hand higher, halfway up Louis’ thigh, and squeezes. Louis pauses in his typing, but then goes right back to it. Harry slides his hand even higher, into erogenous territory. When he curls his hand around the top of Louis’ thigh and digs his fingers into the flesh of his inner thigh, Louis finally lifts his head up, with a slight smile and a questioning look. Harry keeps leaning in until Louis sighs and lets himself be kissed.
Niall looks up, makes a face at them, and then looks back down at his magazine.
Louis starts to pull back, obviously thinking Harry just wanted a little affection, but Harry grabs him by the back of the head before he can get too far away and tugs him into the kiss, with so much force that Louis ends up partially in Harry’s lap. Louis splutters into the kiss, not at all prepared for it, but Harry knows just the way to touch him, just how to kiss him, to turn him warm and malleable in his hands, and soon Louis’ clutching Harry’s shoulders and settling into his lap and deepening the kiss. They haven’t had a chance to kiss like this in days, what with how hectic their week has been and how tired they’ve been, so Louis’ just as desperate for it as Harry is.
Harry hears Liam, back from wherever he was, cough politely. Louis apparently doesn’t, or he doesn’t care; he’s too busy humming and twisting his fingers into the curls on the nape of Harry’s neck. Harry opens his eyes and peers cautiously past Louis’ head. He doesn’t look at any other faces, for fear that they might sense his eyes on them and catch onto what his game is here, but he can see Niall’s foot twitching and Liam sitting now, one foot on the floor and the other resting, bent, on top of his other leg, and no Zayn anywhere in sight. Louis pushes on Harry’s shoulders until Harry gets the hint and closes his eyes again and slides lower on the couch; Louis sits on Harry’s torso above his hips so their mouths are perfectly level, and then lifts himself up so he can tilt Harry’s head back and really get his tongue deep into his mouth. Harry places a hand low down on Louis’ stomach, so it spans the rucked up fabric of his shirt, the sliver of the soft, exposed skin, and the waistband of his trousers, and rolls his hips gently.
Zayn wolfwhistles upon entering the room. Harry winces, thinking it’ll jolt Louis out of the moment, but Louis just breathes out what Harry thinks might be a laugh and keeps right on going.
“How long’ve they been at it?” Zayn asks.
“About five minutes, Niall tells me,” Liam says. Harry slides his hand lower to feel the shape of Louis’ cock, beginning to harden, through his trousers. Louis stiffens against him; Harry hopes that doesn’t mean he’s remembered where they are and whom they are in front of, and is about to stop everything. “I”m gonna give them another minute.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Zayn mumbles sarcastically, “If you want come stains all over that lovely couch.”
Harry wonders if Louis’ hearing them and ignoring them, like Harry, or if he’s just tuning them out altogether. He doesn’t see how he could. They’re not lowering their voices at all. Liam sighs, sounding impatient. Harry ruts up against Louis and Louis breaks the kiss to let out a sharp exhale. Liam coughs, louder than before, and both Harry and Louis open their eyes. Louis licks his lips and looks at Harry, eyes dark, then over his shoulder at Liam, who’s staring at them with a face so perfectly disapproving that Harry can hear him saying, Cut it out now, lads, in his head. Louis turns back to Harry with an apologetic smile.
“That’s a real cockblock. Sorry, Haz,” Louis whispers in Harry’s ear. He kisses him once more before he rolls off of Harry and sits primly beside him, readjusting his clothes and flicking his bangs back into place. Harry doesn’t even pretend to try and fix himself up.
Liam blows out a breath, probably relieved he didn’t have to break them up himself. “Thank you, boys.”
“Nice boner, Lou,” Zayn snorts from the opposite couch. “You too, Harry. Nice matching set.”
Niall, who apparently was aware of what was going on the whole time but just couldn’t be bothered to care, laughs raucously. Zayn smiles at him.
“Thanks, Zayn.” Louis smiles at him, wide and false. “Your mouth looks to be just the right size for it, so why don’t you suck it?”
“Love to,” Zayn shoots back. Niall laughs even harder. Zayn slings his arm around Niall and pulls him into a cuddly headlock across furniture, ruffling up his hair as he continues to stare challengingly at Louis. Liam breaks in before Louis can think of a comeback.
“Are you two calmed down now? Do I have to get the fire extinguisher?” he asks. It sounds like he’s scolding them, but he’s kidding around now. Unlike before, when he was in full-on pissy dad mode. “Because we’ve got sound check in two minutes.”
“Yeah yeah, Fireman Liam,” Louis answers shortly, “We’re good.”
When Liam turns to the door, Louis grabs Harry by the jaw and softly promises, “After the show.” Harry can feel a dirty grin taking over his face as Louis stands up and ushers Harry on with a hand on his bum, but he doesn’t do anything to hide it.
“Ten pounds says Louis just told Harry he’d suck his dick after the show,” Zayn bets Niall as they head out of the room.
Niall snorts and waves Zayn’s handshake away. “Nah, I’d rather not lose ten pounds.”
Not bad for a first try, but Harry can do much better.
The next time he tries, they’ve got no immediate obligations. It’s nighttime (well, technically morning, since it’s a quarter past one), they’re all sitting in the common area of the bus, and Liam and Zayn are playing their third consecutive round of FIFA. It was supposed to be Niall’s turn, but Zayn has been coming up with reasons for a rematch for the past hour, and Niall doesn’t seem to mind; he’s having too much fun jeering at Zayn’s unusually poor playing. Louis is half-watching, not too interested. His last turn was ages ago, but he probably won’t be getting another one tonight with the way Zayn is carrying on. Harry declined the offer to play early on, said he’d rather just watch; Louis muttered, “Thought it was the other way ‘round,” and Harry looked over at him with a sly grin. Louis’ sitting to Harry’s right, Zayn to his left, and Liam is next to him, at the opposite end of the couch from Louis; Niall is on the floor, sitting up against the leg of the couch with Liam’s sock feet right beside him. They’re not too absorbed in the game, and no one else is bound to be coming around anytime soon; perfect for Harry’s second try.
Harry yawns, fake and exaggerated, raises his arms up he pretends to stretch, and wraps the right one around Louis’ shoulders when he drops them back down.
Louis looks over at him, eyebrows raised and lips curving into half a smirk. “Subtle. Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Maybe,” Harry drawls, smirking full on back at him.
“Think he already ‘seduced’ you twice last night. At least,” Niall remarks, tilting his head back to look at Harry and Louis so the full-faced wink and smile he gives them is upside down. Then he looks between Zayn and Liam, smiling as they snicker at his comment. Group mockery of Harry and Louis’ sex life is bringing them back together where FIFA tore them apart; heartwarming, that is.
“Thanks for your input, Niall,” Louis says. Then he knowingly falls for Harry’s cheesy move, reaching up to tangle the fingers of Harry’s right hand, which is hanging limp over Louis’ shoulder, with his own as he presses their lips together. Harry kisses back eagerly, but Louis isn’t having it tonight. It stays relaxed and sweet, Louis’ lips moving slowly against Harry’s as he touches their fingertips together, tickles them over Harry’s half-closed palm.
Harry’s never met someone who liked his hands quite this much— at least no one’s ever liked them the way Louis does, where it’s not always necessarily sexual. He’ll hold Harry’s hand if they’re alone or with just the boys, palms clasped or fingers interlaced or, his favorite way, thumb linked up with the curve between Harry’s forefinger and thumb, so he can stroke the fleshy edge of Harry’s hand with his fingertips; he’ll line his fingers up with the spaces between Harry’s, or thumb over where Harry’s wrist turns into his palm when they’re making out; he’ll hold Harry’s arms above his head, not by his wrists, but by his hands when he’s fucking Harry, squeezing until both their knuckles turn white; and sometimes when Louis’ feeling restless, the kind that gets under his skin and makes him snappy, Harry will drop his hand onto Louis’ knee and mold it to the shape of it, or settle his hand heavy on Louis’ shoulder, or on the small of his back, and splay his fingers and let the heat soak through Louis’ shirt, and it’ll ease Louis enough to make him feel calm, sometimes.
Harry’s not above exploiting the fact that his hands make Louis weak in the knees, either; he pinches Louis’ thumb between his fingertips and drops his arm lower so he can entwine his fingers with Louis, the inside of his elbow pressing right up against the back of Louis’ neck. He strokes along the back of Louis’ hand and over his knuckles and Louis smiles against Harry’s mouth, comes back into the kiss with more focus than before. Harry lifts his other hand to rest against Louis’ chest, a decent inch or two from his nipple. He has to work up to that so Louis doesn’t push him away. Louis has a thing about his nipples, and it could go either very poorly or very, very well if Harry touched them too early on in this situation; he’d rather not take the risk when he could just wait it out until he knows Louis’ too turned on to shrug his hand away.
And that point comes not five minutes later (if the time remaining announcements on the game are anything to go by) when Harry curls his fingers over Louis’ shoulder, thumb brushing bare skin at the edge of his wide collar, and Louis turns his body towards Harry’s and breathes a soft sigh against Harry’s mouth as he angles his hips up, looking for something solid to press against. Harry moves too, so he can push his thigh between Louis’ legs. He can feel the familiar shape of Louis’ erection through two thick layers, Louis’ jeans and his sweatpants. Bolder now, he slides his hand back down and flicks his thumb over Louis’ nipple; Louis’ breath hitches, his grip on Harry’s hand tightening. As Harry shifts around, trying to get Louis’ back against the arm of the couch so he can have better control over him, his bum bumps against Zayn’s thigh.
Zayn mumbles, “Watch it Harry, I’m trying to play a game ‘ere,” and elbows him out of the way. Harry mutters an insincere apology and moves them both closer to the end of the couch.
“Oy, Harry! If you’re gonna sit in Louis’ lap, can I have your spot on the couch?” Niall asks. He’s joking, poking fun at them again, but Harry knows he’d take him up on the offer if Harry said yes. They’ve had to take turns sitting on the floor since it got too hot on the bus for all five of them to squeeze in side by side on the moderately-sized couch, and Niall likes sitting on the floor the least of all of them; it’s because he misses the closeness, Harry knows it.
“What do you think, Lou?” Harry whispers, getting close enough to nibble at Louis’ ear the way he likes, and Louis laughs and tugs Harry fully into his lap, Harry’s knees landing on either side of his waist. Good answer. “Yeah, sure,” Harry calls to Niall as he rests his chest against Louis’, “Go for it.”
“Sweet. This floor’s killing my arse,” Niall says as he pops up off the floor; the couch sags under Harry as Niall plops down next to Zayn. It’s still a tight fit, but no one seems to mind.
Harry can feel eyes on the back of his neck, but he doesn’t look to see who’s staring. The fake football match continues on as Louis tugs down the collar of Harry’s shirt and renews the mark he left by his collarbone last night; Harry hears little animated crowds cheering their hearts out, Liam giving pep talks to his little animated footballers, Zayn cursing his out, along with the little animated referee, and Niall laughing and bouncing around in his seat, offering Zayn sarcastic pointers like, “You’re supposed to make it in the goal, bud,” and “You know the circle button makes you kick, right?”
Harry pays close attention to these background noises while he makes out with Louis; he wants to be able to hear it and recognize it the moment the boys start having a different reaction to them.
Louis’ lazily sort of turned on, rolling his hips and humming contentedly when Harry wraps his hands around the soft curves of Louis’ waist, sucking another light mark into Harry’s neck that’ll fade by tomorrow. Harry settles more of his weight onto Louis, bracing himself on the cushion and grinding their now connected hips together. Louis starts to groan into Harry’s neck, and he closes his mouth tight over the skin to muffle the sound. Harry grins and slides his hand up under Louis’ shirt, tracing the outline of Louis’ pec to give Louis the chance to expel a harsh breath in preparation for when he rubs his fingers against Louis’ bare nipple. But Louis still gasps, audible and breathless. Harry listens closely as he kisses Louis quiet.
There isn’t as much noise in the room as there was. Harry concentrates to pick out what’s disappeared; he still hears the game, but none of the boys’ voices. Harry’s first try at this might have been a total flop, but it did give him an idea of how the boys act when they’re not bothered by him and Louis’ shows of affection, and this change, this silence, means they must be getting uncomfortable. Harry bets if he reached back and touched Niall’s thigh right now, he’d jump right out of his skin.
Liam clears his throat and starts to say, “After this game, who wants—?” but his question is cut short by Louis’ moan when Harry palms him through his jeans. His hips buck up against Harry’s hand and Harry almost loses his balance, but holds tight to Louis’ shoulder to stay upright. Liam doesn’t finish his question. Harry imagines him going red, frowning with eyebrows furrowed as he looks stubbornly at the screen. Someone is watching him and Louis, though; Harry can feel their eyes again. Despite his preemptive bracing, Louis does manage to knock Harry off his lap when Harry unbuttons his jeans and starts to unzip them; he falls backwards and lands stretched out over Niall and Zayn’s laps, staring right up into Liam’s shocked face.
Harry smiles crookedly up at him. “Hi,” he says. Liam doesn’t say anything back— just keeps staring down at him with wide eyes.
Liam is so distracted that Zayn’s able to score on him. His team finally wins the match and he drops his controller onto Harry’s chest and throws his hands up, whooping. “Suck on that, Liam!”
“Well, I hardly think that counts!” Liam huffs, finally looking away from Harry to look at Zayn. “There were...” he begins, gesturing vaguely at Harry, then back at Louis, who’s still in the corner of couch shaking his head at Harry, a smile fighting to break out on his face. Harry sees that he’s pulled his shirt down over his crotch; Harry’s erection is painfully obvious in comparison. Liam glances down at Harry again and completes his sentence with, “Extenuating circumstances,” then turns his whole head to look away.
“Putting it up for a vote,” Zayn says, stubborn as he is any time he’s losing.
“Liam,” Niall says decidedly. Zayn gives him a dirty look. “You’ve been sucking tonight, Zayn. No offense. If it weren’t for these two humping,” Niall says, patting Harry’s stomach and jerking a thumb at Louis, “Liam would’ve won. And Harry, your boner’s a little close to me right now, mate.”
Zayn grumbles as he picks up his controller again to exit out to the main menu, but he laughs a little along with everyone else at Niall’s bluntness. Harry apologizes to Niall, and to Zayn and Liam, for intruding on their personal space while in such a delicate state, and sits up, bum momentarily sinking down between Zayn and Niall’s thighs before he gets enough leverage to launch himself back into Louis’ lap. Louis says, “Easy there,” and kisses Harry behind the ear as he helps him settle into a comfortable position. Then he thrusts his hips up slowly, so his still half-hard cock presses up against the crack of Harry’s ass through the layers of denim and cotton, and whispers, “Go to the bathroom in a minute and I’ll follow you.”
Harry adjusts his cock in his sweatpants.
“Honestly thought I was gonna see one of your dicks if that went on any longer,” Zayn mutters as he hands the controller to Niall.
“You and me both,” Liam agrees stiffly, and Harry shoots him a cheeky grin past the other two boys to try and loosen him up. Liam rolls his eyes a bit, but smiles back. “They’re like animals in heat.”
“I resent that comparison,” Louis says, and then pauses for effect. They all know a punchline’s still coming. “Harry and I can go for much longer than animals,” he finishes, and Niall cackles like he always does at Louis’ dumb jokes and Zayn chuckles and Liam groans like he wished he hadn’t heard that and Harry barks out a laugh, the kind he covers with his hand when he’s in public.
Liam plays against Niall, a more even match, and after about thirty seconds Harry gets up off Louis’ lap and winks back at him as he walks out of the room, doing his best to make his intentions not at all subtle. He and Louis both know that the boys all know what they’re getting up to, but Louis still leaves Harry waiting in the bathroom for three minutes before he comes in after him. When he enters, Harry’s leaning against the counter already wanking. Louis drops to his knees with a smile and sucks him off, holding his hips still as he swallows his come, and Harry pants and strokes a knuckle over Louis’ cheekbone as he licks him clean; then Harry guides Loius to sit on the edge of the combination shower/tub and helps him balance with a hand on the small of his back as he returns the favor, Louis’ hand fisting in Harry’s loose curls when he comes into Harry’s open, waiting mouth.
The boys’ eyes follow them when they walk back into the room, and they don’t say a word when they reach the couch. Harry’s never been more pleased by an awkward silence. Harry sits down first and Louis sits on his thighs, and Harry wraps his arms around Louis’s torso, pulls him in close so his back is against Harry’s chest, and bites Louis’ shoulder through the wrinkled fabric of his t-shirt, the way Louis likes to do to him. Louis turns to smile and peck Harry on the lips.
Zayn breaks the silence by saying, “You owe me ten pounds,” to Niall.
Niall sputters. “How could you possibly know Harry blew Louis?”
“His lips. Now hand it over,” Zayn demands, hand outstretched.
“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with how much gambling is apparently going on concerning our sex life, Harry,” Louis says to Harry. “Also, that Zayn apparently knows what you look like after you’ve had a dick in your mouth? Your attention to detail here is concerning, Zayn.”
“Can’t help being observant.” Zayn shrugs and then makes a ‘gimme’ motion at Niall.
Harry touches his lips self-consciously. They aren’t that swollen; Louis didn’t even fuck his mouth this time. “If it affects the bet at all,” Harry offers, licking his lips to draw Zayn’s attention back to them (and maybe Niall’s, if he’s lucky), “Louis sucked my dick too.”
“Knew it!” Niall shouts.
Zayn sighs. “Shit, all right. We both win.”
“Ah, but I bet twenty, so you owe me ten pounds. Hand it over then.”
Niall pauses the game to argue with Zayn about the conditions of the bet and the amount owed, and Liam closes his eyes and leans his head back against the couch, looking like he wants to tell Zayn and Niall that gambling’s illegal so they’ll shut up, but just can’t summon the strength, and Louis nuzzles into Harry’s neck as Harry massages his belly, laughing softly and squirming in Harry’s arms now and then when Harry hits a ticklish spot.
“Since we’re all clearly distracted from the game....” Liam says, mostly to himself, since no one else is listening, and gets up to put in one of the dozens of new movies they were supplied with to keep them occupied on long nights like these. He walks around shutting off all the lights, and warns Harry and Louis to keep their hands to themselves before he sits back down and presses play.
“I can’t guarantee I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Louis says, “but I’ll keep my hand off Harry’s dick. Fair?”
“I don’t like that,” Harry pouts. Louis pats his cheek and shushes him.
“I do. I like it very much,” Liam says, a little too loudly. Harry smirks in the dark. Liam is so easy.
Louis keeps his promise, but it turns out to be not that much to keep with the way their night turns out; they all fall asleep on the couch together, Louis’ head pillowed against Harry’s chest, Niall’s head on Harry’s arm, and Zayn leaning over Liam so he can rest his head on the arm of the couch, about fifteen minutes after the opening credits.
The third time goes much like the second time, except this time they’re a bit tipsy from playing a drinking game they’ve been making up as they go along, and Harry and Louis aren’t on the couch with the other boys; they’re on the floor because Harry rolled off of it laughing at something that no one else found quite as funny, and then Louis joined him down there, called him an idiot and kissed him mid-laugh.
Now they’re making out, Louis crouched over Harry on all fours, while Niall laughs until he’s doubled over at something Zayn just said and Liam screws the cap on the bottle they’ve been passing around and sets it aside, silently declaring that the four of them have had enough for the night. Niall’s had the most of all of them, but Louis’ had quite a lot too. Enough to make him loose and giggly; to make him want to make out with Harry in front of the boys without Harry having to coax him into it first.
The other boys aren’t paying them any mind, though. Niall’s trying to clamber over Liam to reach for the bottle and Liam’s laughing, stopping him with one hand, and Zayn’s grabbing him round the waist and hauling him back and ruffling his hair, saying in his go-to silly voice, “Look how red your cheeks are. Drunk little Irishman.” Niall tells Zayn to fuck off, but it sounds muffled. Even though Harry can’t see them, he’s almost entirely sure Niall’s nuzzling his face into Zayn’s neck; he gets twice as cuddly when he’s got some alcohol in his system.
Louis murmurs, “Got such pretty lips,” against Harry’s jaw, and Harry forgets all about what the other boys are doing.
“Wanna get your cock between them? Make them all puffy and red?” Harry whispers back. He turns Louis’ head slightly with the grip he has on his hair so he can speak closer to his ear, breathe out hot against his neck, “You wanna come on them, Lou?”
“God, Harry,” Louis groans, his voice strained and husky with arousal, and he thumbs over Harry’s bottom lip as he says, “Yeah, I always wanna fuck your mouth.” The boys can’t have heard what Harry said, but they definitely heard that. Harry’s pretty sure he hears someone clear their throat and some awkward shifting around on the couch. Probably all looking at each other wondering what they should do.
Harry places both his hands on Louis’ back, one up near his shoulder blades and one three-quarters of the way down his spine, and pulls down until Louis crumples against him. Harry squirms a bit, reveling in the way Louis’ muscles shift against him when he uses his weight to pin Harry to the floor. Louis’ body heat soaks through Harry’s clothes and Harry longs for Louis to be naked, for them both to be naked; he wants to feel Louis’ hot skin bare against his. He tries to tug Louis’ shirt up, but Louis takes both of Harry’s hands in his and holds them above his head and kisses him again with more tongue, lewd and heated. Harry rolls his hips up and Louis groans and ruts down against him, like he wants to fuck him into the floor.
“Keep your hands here,” Louis orders, pressing Harry’s wrists into the rug to emphasize, and then he lets go of Harry’s hands. Harry watches as Louis lifts his shirt up and rests a hand low on his stomach, then starts kissing across his chest. Harry gasps, muscles in his abdomen jumping under Louis’ fingers; Louis’ stubble scrapes over Harry’s lower nipple as Louis works his tongue and teeth over the one right above it, and Harry whines and disobeys Louis— he grabs him by the hair and hauls him back up to kiss him harder, frantically, then wraps his legs around Louis’ ass and grinds their hips together until they’re both panting, Louis’ torso twisted around to suck sloppy marks into the side of Harry’s neck. Harry arches his neck to give Louis’ mouth better access. He takes advantage of the new angle his head’s at to glance over at the three other boys.
They’re all staring at them. Liam’s brows are knitted together and his jaw is clenched and Niall looks bewildered and Zayn’s got a hand on his crotch, palming himself through his trousers and biting the side of his lip as he looks on with impossibly dark eyes.
Harry groans and wriggles a hand between their bodies to go for the button of Louis’ jeans. Louis doesn’t stop him from unbuttoning it. He touches along Harry’s ribs, kisses and scrapes his teeth over his sternum and then grabs Harry’s hair with both hands to drag his head back, to kiss along his jaw while Harry unzips his jeans. Louis grunts and thrusts towards Harry’s hand. Harry tugs Louis’ jeans down a bit, so his fly opens wider from being stretched over his hips, and touches Louis’ cock through his boxers. It twitches against his palm and Harry kisses Louis to distract him as he tugs it out of his boxers and takes it into his hand.
The boys won’t be able to see that Louis’ cock is out because his and Harry’s bodies are so close, but they’ll be able to hear the slick sounds of Harry working it with his fist if they’re listening closely, and they are. The room is silent but for the sounds he and Louis are making.
“Fuck, Harry,” Louis moans as he fucks Harry’s fist, “‘m gonna fuck you so hard.”
“Jesus,” Niall mutters.
Harry tears himself away from Louis to look at Niall; his pale face is flushed, as red as Harry’s ever seen it, and his mouth is open, and their eyes meet and the way he stares, barely any blue left in his wide eyes, makes Harry feel even hotter than he already is all over. He shudders and moans without looking away and Niall repeats himself, louder and with more feeling. He thinks he sees Liam watching Zayn thumbing the button on his trousers, as if he’s contemplating whether or not to take his cock out and start jerking off right there, out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t have much of a chance to look because Louis suddenly gets up, cock still jutting out of his pants, and drags Harry to his feet. He doesn’t say a word to the other boys as he picks Harry up and carries him, Harry clinging to him with his arms linked around his shoulders and his legs wrapped tight around his hips, into the adjoining room. There, he tosses him onto the closest bunk and picks up right where they left off.
Once he’s got Harry prepared, hole slick with lube (which Louis grumbled about having to go nick from Harry’s bunk), he bends Harry nearly in half and fucks him so thoroughly that the noises Harry’s making aren’t just exaggerated for the benefit of the boys anymore. He can’t help them coming out when Louis’ fucking him this good, his thighs aching and his curls sticking damp to his forehead with sweat and his body tense all over and it’s so good, too good— even better because the boys can hear all of it; Louis pounding into him, the bunk creaking, Harry begging Louis to fuck him harder, harder and faster and oh please Louis, come on, fuck me, yes, Louis harder, even though he’s already so overwhelmed, because Louis likes to hear him say it. Harry scrapes his nails down Louis’ back and, out of breath and hoarse from moaning, says to him, “Now they all know how much I love your cock in me,” and Louis groans and digs his nails sharply into Harry’s thighs as he comes inside him. Louis brings Harry off right after, clumsily palming his cock against his stomach until Harry comes hard across his chest.
Louis suggests they go take a shower once they’ve caught their breath, but Harry declines—- says he’d rather go back out with the boys. Louis could take a shower by himself, but he goes along with Harry instead, even though, or quite possibly because, he must be catching on to what Harry wants by now. Harry’s too grateful for it to ask questions that might change Louis’ mind. Harry pulls his boxer briefs back up, leaving them low enough that they’re still hanging half off his hips, and shakes out his sweaty hair as he walks back into the room. Louis follows after pulling on his shirt, his pants still partially undone.
The boys look at them for about half a second when they walk in, and that’s as long as they can look before they look away.
Harry sits between Liam and Niall on the couch, much too close to Liam, and tries hard not to smile. Liam is so tense he’s practically vibrating and Niall closes his eyes and breathes out like he’s trying to calm himself. Harry was expecting Niall to laugh at least once, even a nervous little giggle, but he’s just rubbing rhythmically at his thighs and blushing all the way down to his neck. Harry looks over at Zayn, who’s on Liam’s other side, to see that both his hands are covering his crotch and he’s staring hard at the floor. The sound of Louis zipping up his trousers is very loud in the quiet room, and they all look over at him leaning against the arm of the couch. Bless him, he smirks.
“Fuck,” Zayn blurts and both his hands fly up to his hair, tugging on it like he’s trying to tear it out. Harry catches sight of the obvious bulge in his trousers and feels his own dick stirring at Zayn’s physical reaction. “You both smell like sex, fuck.”
He gets up off the couch and storms off in the direction of the bathroom.
Niall shifts further away from Harry on the couch, swallowing hard when the door slams shut after Zayn. Harry watches his Adam’s apple bob. He stares straight ahead, as still as Harry’s ever seen him. Harry checks out his crotch while his eyes are averted, but can’t tell if Niall’s hard or not beause his pants are so loose and bunched up around his hips.
“I’m just gonna... yeah,” Niall says, and when he stands up Harry can see that, yep, he’s hard, even though he tries to hide it with his hand. He scrubs his other hand through his hair and heads to the bathroom as well, presumably to wait for his turn in there after Zayn’s done.
Harry looks at Liam. Liam doesn’t look up from the floor. His hands clench into fists at his sides and he says, “I’m going to bed.”
He probably won’t be so keen on the idea when he realizes Harry and Louis fucked on his bunk.
Louis sits down next to Harry on the couch and puts an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “I wish Liam drank so there was a chance he wouldn’t remember any of this.”
Normally Harry would agree with Louis, but it wouldn’t be as exciting if Liam didn’t remember.
And none of them were too drunk to remember this.
« PART THREE »