Things are predictably awkward for the next few days. By day four, Harry starts to get concerned. They’re all still talking to each other, but it’s different; they don’t touch as much, or look each other in the eye as much. Harry’s starting to feel self-conscious of how affectionate he is with Louis because none of the other boys are being as affectionate with each other, and certainly not with them. It would probably blow over in another few days if he left it alone, but Harry’s still attached to the idea of getting fucked in front of them, and there’s no way that’ll happen when they’re on all edge whenever Louis so much as leans too close to him.
But Harry knows just how to fix it.
“Alcohol,” he states plainly as he plops a bottle of tequila down on the table in Zayn’s room. All the boys, save him and Louis, have been hiding out there since they got back from the show. “Let’s drink a lot of it and forget all our worries. And our cares. And our troubles. All of that.”
Liam, Niall, and Zayn stare at him with varying levels of doubt on their faces. Liam’s definitely has the highest.
“Come on, what else are you going to do tonight? We can’t go anywhere.”
The three of them share some significant glances. Eventually, Liam and Niall’s eyes both land on Zayn. Niall nudges him, and finally, making a face like he’d rather not be speaking at all, Zayn says, “Us drinking didn’t end so well last time.”
“Hair of the dog?” Harry suggests.
“That’s about hangovers,” Zayn says.
“Could work just as well for... awkward drunken happenings. And all the awkwardness thereafter. Let’s get drunk? Please?” Harry unscrews the cap on the bottle and holds it out to Niall because he’s closest to him, and never one to turn down a free drink.
“No thanks, mate,” Niall says, waving the bottle aside. Harry frowns. But then Niall gets up off the couch with a lopsided smile and says, “I’ve got some whiskey in my room. Be right back.”
“See, Niall’s on board,” Harry says as Niall jogs out of the room. “Zayn?”
Zayn looks at Liam. Liam doesn’t give him any indication of what he should do, at least not that Harry can see. Zayn shakes his head (at himself, Harry guesses) and grabs the bottle from Harry to take a swig. “This is probably a bad idea,” he says as he wipes his mouth and hands the bottle back.
“I agree,” Liam says.
“But Liam,” Harry pouts, dragging his name out to make his pleading more explicit, “It’s not a party without you.”
Niall comes back into the room with a half-full bottle of whiskey and a family-sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and jumps onto Zayn’s bed without permission. “Yes, party! That’s what I like to hear! I’ve got enough Doritos for everyone, Liam. Well, almost. Got a back-up bag in my room though.”
“Look, Niall’s even sharing his snacks. How can you say no to that?” Harry asks Liam.
Liam stays seated, still looking dubious, but Harry knows that once gets all four boys on the bed, Liam won’t be far behind.
Harry sits next to Niall on the bed, bottle tucked between his knees while he texts Louis to come to Zayn’s room; Niall turns the faintest shade of pink when Harry’s thigh touches his. He covers his slight discomfort with a swig of whiskey. Harry raises his eyebrows at Zayn once he’s sent the text. He beckons him over, holding the bottle out to him again so the liquor inside it sloshes around invitingly, and Niall makes sad faces at him until Zayn sighs and walks over to the bed, flopping down next to Niall.
“Gimme a Dorito,” he grumbles. Niall, smiling, offers him the bag. Zayn looks at Harry. “And at least half that bottle.”
“Are we drinking? Great!” Louis exclaims when he comes in the room, grinning at each boy in turn. Niall and Zayn both pause, Niall about to bite into a Dorito and Zayn about to lift the bottle of tequila to his lips, when Louis tackles Harry flat to the bed. Not something that would’ve bothered them before, but everything’s all weird now. Even Louis playing around with him, like he would with any of the other boys, puts them on alert. He tries to loosen up the mood by tickling Louis until he threatens to knee him in the balls, and it works; Niall and Zayn are smiling at them instead of looking like they’re ready to bolt. Louis hits Harry with a pillow and then crawls over to grab the bottle from Zayn, swallowing much more than one shot’s worth when he tips it back.
“Easy,” Harry laughs. He’s so distracted trying to get the bottle from Louis so he can take another drink that he didn’t even hear Liam get up and move; but there he is, standing at the foot of the bed with a look in his eyes that Harry can’t read. “Joining us?” Harry asks, smiling in what he hopes is a welcoming way.
Liam still looks unsure. “Gotta make sure none of you drink yourselves to death, right?” he says hesitantly. He looks at each of them in turn, eyes finally landing on Zayn.
Zayn holds out his hand; Liam takes it and allows himself to be pulled onto the bed.
They don’t say much as they drink for the next hour. Harry, Louis and Zayn pass the bottle between the three of them, and Niall eventually rolls up the bag of Doritos and sets them aside to focus solely on finishing his whiskey. Liam pretends to be texting— or maybe he really is texting, but it’s half six in the morning in England right now, so Harry’s not sure who. Harry strips off gradually as they drink. By the time he’s feeling properly drunk, he’s just in his pants. Normally he’d take them off too (well, normally he wouldn’t have been wearing them when they started), but he’s been careful about getting fully naked around the boys lately. None of them seem to mind him being in his pants, though.
Well, until Louis starts stroking up and down his sides. He always gets handsy when he’s drunk, and he’s quite drunk. Niall notices first, freezing with his bottle to his lips. When Niall tenses up, Liam feels it because Niall’s cuddling up to him, nearly in his lap, and he looks over at them as well. Zayn catches on about fifteen seconds after they do, eyes landing first on Harry’s face and then moving down to settle on his torso, gazing intently at Louis’ hands.
“Is this bothering you?” Harry asks them, too drunk to think about being tactful. Louis’ hands still, but stay curved around Harry’s hips.
There is a very long silence.
Then Niall shakes his head. Liam looks at him like he’s gone mad. “Niall,” he hisses, agitated; Niall shushes him. Niall looks at Louis and Harry and nods, motioning for them to go on. Or, Harry thinks that’s what he’s trying to communicate with his imprecise gestures. Zayn watches Niall and then nods at them too. Liam looks like he wants to strangle them both, but he doesn’t say anything.
Harry’s not really sure what they were just given permission to do. Act like a couple in front of their best friends without it being awkward? Make out in front of them? (Because they should all know by now that’s where this is going.) Go further than last time? Go all the way? Harry doesn’t know, but when Louis places his hands high up on Harry’s ribs and, slowly and purposefully, slides them back down his torso to rub over where the waistband of his boxer briefs is tightly hugging his hips, no one protests. Niall and Zayn keep drinking, eyes flickering from each other to Harry and Louis, but never to Liam. Liam’s eyes keep following Louis’ hands as they move over Harry’s body, until he catches himself and goes back to staring intently down at the coverlet; but every time, he gets curious and looks up again. Harry doesn’t want to take his eyes off them, but when Louis whispers in his ear, “Turn around, love. I want to kiss you,” Harry can’t refuse.
Louis puts his hands on Harry’s hips again as soon as Harry sits facing him, gets a good grip on them and draws Harry into his lap as he kisses up his neck. Harry’s trying to listen to the boys and be necked on at the same time, but multitasking is hard when he’s drunk. So he focuses all his attention on Louis; Louis’ fingers tapping unevenly against his hips, Louis’ breath hot on his jaw, Louis’ lips warm against his, tasting like the bottle they’ve been sharing, Louis’ hands traveling around to Harry’s ass, settling in the center of each cheek and then digging in when he bites Harry’s bottom lip. Harry thinks he hears one of the boys mutter something, but he doesn’t catch a word of it, too distracted by how hard and messy Louis is kissing him as he works his fingers under the waistband of Harry’s pants on either side of his hips. Harry feels his pants slip down his ass a few inches when Louis tucks his hands all the way inside, fingers sticking out from underneath the bottom edge of the leg hole, and wonders how much of it the boys can see. He presses his fingertips, his nails, into the soft flesh high on Harry’s thigh and whispers, “This is what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it?”
Harry groans and his cock swells, straining against the fabric that Louis is already misshaping. Louis takes his left hand out of the side of Harry’s pants to press it against the front instead, to feel how hard Harry’s getting.
“They’re watching us. Watching you, Harry,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s ear, “And they don’t look like they want to stop watching anytime soon. That’s you wanted, huh? Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Harry hisses as he ruts against Louis’ hand. He opens up Louis’ trousers and wriggles his hand inside, cupping Louis’ dick through his boxers. “Want you to fuck me in front of them.”
Louis laughs. It tickles the curls by Harry’s ear. “Not yet. This first.”
Louis swings him down onto the bed, supporting his back with one arm as he lays him out over the smooth coverlet. Harry flails a little and lets out a startled breath when he lands, head bouncing on the mattress. Louis’ on him immediately, pushing Harry’s knees open and coming up to kiss Harry in between them. Then he pulls back just as fast to whip Harry’s pants off and suck down his cock.
Niall breathes, “Shit,” low and emphatic.
“Guys,” Liam says, sounding like he’s on the verge of hyperventilating, “Guys, this is not— you shouldn’t be— oh, oh my god.”
“Shut up,” Zayn snaps at Liam under his breath.
Liam swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing dramatically. If Harry were to reach up for something to hold onto while Louis licked along the full length of his cock, Liam’s calf would be the first thing within reach— he’s that close to Harry’s head. Liam and Niall have moved away from each other since Harry last looked and now Niall is diagonal to Harry’s shoulder, about a foot from Liam. Zayn is on the opposite side, sitting cross-legged with the bottle of tequila propped up against the inside of his knee. If he stretched his leg out just a little bit, his bare toes would graze Harry’s ribs.
Louis taking him all the way in from the get go was clearly just for the shock factor, because now he won’t stop teasing; breathing hot over the head of Harry’s cock and licking at the slit sporadically, fleetingly, as he works the rest of it with his hand. Harry has no idea what to do with his hands. He thinks about grabbing Louis’ hair and forcing him to suck him down again, but he doesn’t want his arms to block anything from view. He’s wound so tight already, hands twitching into half-formed fists at his sides and hips jerking up out of his control until Louis gets fed up and holds Harry’s hips down with both hands, only his mouth on Harry now.
Harry keeps looking up and making eye contact with the boys; Niall, who’s looking at him with this intensity, this sharpness to the blue of his eyes that Harry’s never seen before, and Zayn, that hint of something he always has in his eyes when he looks at Harry and Louis full-blown now, and Liam, who looks like he’s trying to convince himself to look away but just can’t come up with a reason better than how badly he wants to see this.
Harry’s hand flies up to clutch at Louis’ wrist when Louis sucks sloppily around the head and he says, “‘m gonna come soon, Louis please,” and bucks his hips hard enough to surpass the strength of Louis’ hands and get his meaning across; his cock pushes in another inch past Louis’ lips and Louis gets it. He pinches Harry’s hip, scolding him for being impatient, but opens his mouth wider and takes Harry the rest of the way in anyway.
“Can’t decide who I’m more jealous of,” Zayn says. Harry catches his eye and thrusts deeper into Louis’ mouth, groaning louder than he has to.
Louis gags a little, but adjusts quickly enough. He starts bobbing on Harry’s cock, hollowing his cheeks and sucking and Niall blows out a breath and answers Zayn with: “Definitely Harry.”
Louis picks up the pace until Harry tosses his head back and comes deep in Louis’ mouth. He wishes he could’ve seen their faces, watching him orgasm for the second (albeit unknowingly the second, for Niall), and this time because they chose to stay and watch, but he can’t stop his eyes from shutting. When he opens them again a few seconds later, he’s staring right up into Liam’s big brown ones.
“Hi,” Harry says. Then his eyelashes flutter, eyes almost closing again, and he bites his lip a bit and licks out over it as Louis sucks him all the way through his orgasm. He starts to tremble from the oversensitivity and has to put his hand on Louis’ forehead and shove him off his dick to get him to stop.
“Hi,” Liam croaks out, but his eyes dart away from Harry’s and Harry assumes he’s watching Harry’s spit-slick cock slip out of Louis’ mouth.
Louis starts biting at Harry’s thigh and then loudly sucks a mark over the imprint his teeth left. With everyone’s eyes on him, he says, “You still want me to fuck you, Harry?”
It’s like everyone stops breathing. Harry’s never heard a room with all five of them in it so silent. It’s sort of scary to break it, but he’s gotten this far— no point in stopping now. “Yes,” he says. “Louis, yes, fuck me.”
Liam’s jaw drops so dramatically Harry can hear it.
“Gonna need your help here, lads,” Louis says. Harry has no idea what he’s talking about until he elaborates with, “Zayn, Niall, hold his legs.”
Harry’s stomach jumps. Louis’ really going to do it. He’s really going to fuck Harry in front of them.
“This alright, Harry?” Niall asks. There’s an uncertain tremor in his voice that has nothing to do with how he’s pressing Harry’s thigh down into the mattress. His hand is shaking.
Harry nods at him reassuringly.
Zayn has no such qualms, however. Or at least he pretends he doesn’t. He comes much closer than he needs, so close Harry can feel the heat coming off his body, and curves both hands around Harry’s thigh. He bends his fingers, trailing his nails up over Harry’s skin until he finds a comfortable grip and then clamps down. But he’s bluffing. His hands are shaking too.
Three unfamiliar hands on him and Harry feels overwhelmed already, trying to catalogue each different touch. Niall’s guitar-calloused fingers and Zayn’s slightly dry palms, and their manner of touching— Niall barely holding on and Zayn holding too tight to mask his nervousness. The different pressure on each thigh is remarkably erotic. Harry wonders how long he’ll have to wait before he’ll feel Liam’s hands on him too.
“Zayn, you wouldn’t happen to have any lubricant of the personal persuasion in here, would you?” Louis asks, smiling sweetly.
“Oh no,” Liam says. “This isn’t actually happening, is it?”
“Liam, shut up,” Niall says as he strokes absentmindedly over Harry’s thigh, fingers disturbing the coarse hairs there.
“I have some lube,” Zayn says to Louis, “In the bathroom.”
“Would you mind getting it?”
“Why don’t you get it yourself?”
Harry makes his voice go all breathy and husky and begs, “Zayn, please,” and Zayn gets a little red in the face and he trips over himself getting off the bed. Louis gives Harry a discreet high-five.
Niall laughs. “Reminds me of the last time this happened. I... I mean, not,” he corrects himself, stumbling over his words, “not, not this, but. You know. The time before this, when Zayn ran off and wanked in the bathroom.”
“And then you wanked in the bathroom after him, didn’t you Niall?” Louis asks with a sharp grin, pushing like he always does.
Niall blushes, but when he answers his voice is steady. “Did you hear the noises Harry was making? ‘Course I did.”
Harry blushes a little too. Niall’s hand is right there, on his thigh, and Harry can’t help putting the thought of Niall wanking and his hand’s proximity to Harry’s rehardening dick together. Can this go as far as handjobs? Harry has no idea what the limits are anymore. As badly as he wanted this, he didn’t spend enough time thinking out the others’ involvement to know where to draw the lines. Everything’s up in the air now.
Zayn comes back and tosses a half rolled-up tube to Louis. He sits on the bed right where he was before and pulls Harry’s leg even closer to him, spreading him wider for Louis. Niall holds him tighter. Harry tips his head back to check on Liam and ends up with his head nearly in his lap. He’s moved closer. This near to his crotch, Harry can easily spot his erection. Harry licks his lips and gives him a knowing smile, a waggle of his eyebrows. Liam blushes redder, but doesn’t look away.
Harry’s expecting cold, slippery fingers, so when Louis’ fingers touch his ass dry, he’s confused. Harry looks at him, quirking an eyebrow, and Louis smiles before he lifts Harry’s hips up and ducks his head down between his thighs, and oh— oh, he presses his lips right below Harry’s balls and Louis’ name gets stuck in Harry’s throat as Louis messily licks his way back to the crack of Harry’s ass. Harry twists up and gasps, accidentally dislodging Niall’s hand, when Louis tongues over Harry’s hole.
Harry wasn’t expecting that. Not at all.
“What the fuck is he— is he...? Oh, Jesus,” Niall murmurs, hushed and in awe. Or horror. Harry’s not sure which yet.
“Niall,” Harry groans, wiggling his thigh to remind him, and Niall nods shakily and puts his hand on Harry again, this time with a strong enough grip that Harry’s leg sinks down into the mattress.
“Fuck,” Zayn says simply. He sounds sort of muffled; Harry looks up to see that it’s because he’s biting down on his knuckle. Harry hadn’t even realized Zayn had taken one of his hands off him; honestly, it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than Louis holding his ass open and licking his way into it. He’s a lot less careful, less... proper about it when he’s drunk. Harry loves Louis shameless like this.
“Does that feel good?” Niall asks, almost a whisper.
Harry would think that his cock going from half-hard to swollen and red and wet at the tip in the time between when Louis first lowered his mouth to Harry’s ass and now would be enough of an answer; if not that, then the way Harry’s biting down on his lip, breathing harshly in and out through his nose and making high-pitched noises in the back of his throat should be a dead giveaway; or the way the muscles in Harry’s thighs are straining as he tries and fails to lift his ass up and push back onto Louis’ tongue, because Niall should be able to feel that happening right under his hand. But Niall seems to have missed all that. Or, maybe he just wants confirmation of it because maybe he can’t make sense of the equation that tongue plus ass equals pleasure in his head.
Harry looks him in the eye and nods.
Niall leans closer to Harry’s ass, peering down at where Louis’ mouth is. Harry feels remarkably exposed even though Niall probably can’t see much at all. “You like Louis’ tongue in your arse?” he asks again, but this time it’s rhetorical, to wind Harry up. It’s dirty talk.
Harry starts to say yes, but then Louis’ tongue is licking sloppily around his entrance to get the ring all wet with spit, in tighter and tighter circles until he’s finally pushing the tip of his tongue hard against the center of it, and Harry moans instead, grabs Louis by the hair and tries to push his tongue all the way into him. Louis shakes Harry’s hands off his head and pops up, hair sticking up in odd places, mouth all wet and obscene, and says, “Liam, hold his hands, will you?” He goes right back down without waiting for Liam’s answer, licks over Harry’s hole with the flat of his tongue again and again to punish him for trying to rush him, before he gets back to opening him up.
Harry looks up at Liam through half-shut eyes. Liam looks sort of terrified. “S’okay, Liam,” Harry says softly and lifts both his arms up, hands folded together, for Liam to take. When he doesn’t, Harry rests them in Liam’s lap and continues to stare up at him as he waits. His eyes slip shut for just a second and he whimpers a little, and his fingers twitch against Liam’s crotch when Louis’ tongue finally pushes into him, and that does it— Liam gathers Harry’s wrists up in his hand and squeezes them tentatively together. Harry doesn’t break eye contact with him, not even as Louis is stabbing his tongue repeatedly into Harry’s hole. Liam eventually gets bold, expression stern as he runs his free hand down one of Harry’s tensed forearms, fingers tracing the veins that pop out all along it when Harry squeezes Liam’s hand.
Niall’s voice snaps Harry out of the weird, sexual staring contest he’s having with Liam. “Do you guys always do this? When Louis fucks you? I thought you just had to, you know,” Niall says, making a curling motion with two of his fingers. Niall’s not even making eye contact with Harry as he crudely mimes fingering him, too busy still looking curiously on at what Louis’ doing. Harry wonders how much he actually can see.
Harry shakes his head and manages, “Only when we have time,” through gritted teeth, between heaving breaths, as Louis fucks him full on with his tongue. “Fingers would be— good, though.”
“Think Harry wants you to finger him, Louis,” Niall says helpfully.
“Thanks, Niall,” Harry grunts sarcastically.
Louis withdraws his tongue and props himself up on Harry’s knees, licking his lips hungrily, like a predator, as he makes eye contact with Harry and only Harry. He takes his shirt off, like he should have ages ago, and then his trousers too. His erection is tenting his boxers so obviously he might as well be naked. Louis comes back with his fingers slicked up and pushes one smoothly into Harry as he settles back between his legs. Harry struggles against Liam’s grip, really wanting to get his hand on his cock now, but Liam holds him fast. Niall’s still watching Louis, rubbing Harry’s thigh as an afterthought. Harry looks over at Zayn to discover that a lot’s changed since he last looked at Zayn; his trousers are open and he’s palming himself through his underwear, eyes fixed on Harry face. Harry’s cock twitches at the sight and Zayn’s eyes go right to it. He licks his lips and arches up into his hand.
“Can I...?” Zayn starts to asks Louis, voice coming out deep and rough like it does first thing in the morning. Just the sound of it is arousing, nevermind what he’s saying. Louis stops trying to get a second finger into Harry and looks up at him, waiting. “Touch him?” Zayn finishes, and his eyes land on Harry’s cock again so there’s no misunderstanding what he means.
Louis frowns, makes eye contact with Harry, and then shrugs. “I dunno, it’s not my dick.”
Zayn stares at Harry with this wide-eyed look, like he dug up all this courage to ask and now he’s not sure he can do it again. Louis pushes two fingers in and starts fucking Harry shallowly with them. Harry nods frantically at Zayn, choking out, “Yes, Zayn, yes, you can touch me.”
Niall’s fingers dig into Harry’s thigh and he whispers, “Oh Christ.” Zayn slowly eases his hand out of his trousers and places it low on Harry’s stomach. Harry’s abdomen tenses at the touch. Zayn slides his hand lower until his palm is resting half in Harry’s pubic hair, in the sparse beginnings of it at the end of his happy trail, and lifts up two of his fingers to touch the base of Harry’s shaft experimentally. They drag so lightly along his skin Harry can barely feel it.
“Come on,” Harry urges, making his cock jump towards Zayn’s hand, and Zayn only hesitates long enough to breathe out before he wraps his hand around it. Zayn’s hands are bigger than Louis’; Harry knew this, but it’s different knowing it by sight and knowing it by how much area they can cover on his cock. Zayn keeps his hand low on Harry’s cock and squeezes, then slides his hand up higher with his fingers loosely curled and squeezes again, near the top, like he’s testing to feel how Harry’s cock differs from his. Which is all well and good— Harry was probably curious like this too the first time he touched a cock that wasn’t his— but he really wants Zayn to jerk him off already.
Louis fucks his fingers in deep enough to, first, lightly stroke, and then rub hard against Harry’s prostate and Harry moans and arches up off the bed, a third the height he would have if he wasn’t being restrained, and flings his head back. To his surprise, the back of his head lands on Liam’s thigh; Liam’s even closer than before. Harry looks up at him, pleading for something; maybe for Liam to tell Louis to stop torturing him, or for Zayn to move his hand faster, or maybe for something else altogether. Liam shushes him gently and gets a hand in his hair, carding through the curls and scraping his fingers over his scalp, the way he knows Harry likes, to try and soothe him. It feels so good Harry could cry. Louis backs off his prostate, easing his fingers out and coming back with one more to fit inside him, and Harry presses his face into Liam’s thigh and bites at Liam’s jeans to stifle the sharp sound he makes when Louis pushes all three inside to the knuckle.
Liam lets go of Harry’s hands. Harry whips his head up, curious, because no one told him to let go. Liam’s struggling to unbutton his trousers with one hand, the one that had been holding Harry’s wrists. He stops when he realizes Harry’s looking.
“Go on,” Harry says quietly, and bites harder at Liam’s thigh through the denim.
Liam lets out this noise, hardly more than a particularly loud exhale, but it’s the first noise he’s made since he tried to tell them to stop, and from the sound of it, Harry thinks he’s made a complete 180 since then. Liam goes further than Zayn: shoves his jeans and his boxers down his thighs and takes his bare cock in his hand. He looks so uncomfortable like that, so aware of where he is and what he’s doing, that Harry takes pity on him and cranes his neck to mouth at the side of his shaft. Liam groans and his hand in Harry’s hair tightens and he pulls Harry’s head up as far as his neck can take it. Harry does his best to lick and suck at the salty skin of Liam’s cock even though the angle’s all wrong and he’s getting a twinge in his neck. It’s sloppy and distracted at best, but it seems to work for Liam because he starts jerking himself off.
Harry is jolted away from Liam’s dick when Louis licks around where Harry’s opening is stretched around his fingers. Harry scrambles for something to hold onto, because otherwise he’s going to put his hand over Zayn’s and make himself come too soon, and his hand lands on Niall’s shoulder. Niall startles at his touch, but doesn’t shrug Harry of. Harry looks at him, takes in his eyes, just a thin ring of blue around his dark pupils, and his mouth, red and slightly agape, and his hair, fluffed up and messy— Harry raises his hand and grabs that instead, combing through the blond strands; and then nearly wrenches them out of Niall’s scalp when Louis takes his fingers out of Harry’s ass and tongues over his open hole. Niall yelps, but he lets Harry’s hand stay where it is when it relaxes.
Louis leaves Harry empty when he grabs the lube again to slick up his cock. Harry’s about to tell Louis he doesn’t need it, but instead he lies there and takes in all the things he was distracted from before. Zayn’s thumbing the wet head of Harry’s cock, and Liam and Zayn are both jerking off (Harry doesn’t remember when Zayn took his hand off Harry’s thigh), and Harry’s messing up Niall’s hair further while Niall studies Harry’s face. Niall’s eyes move to Harry’s flushed chest, and then Niall lifts his hand to toy with Harry’s necklaces. Harry watches the chains slip over his pale fingers. Niall moves his hand over to tweak one of Harry’s regular nipples, already hard, and then one of the extra ones, and smiles when Harry breathes out shakily and arches into his touch. Then Louis’ back, lining his cock up so the head’s nudging into Harry’s hole, and there’s barely any friction there to stop it because Harry’s hole’s so wet with spit and lube, and Harry’s so hard he might pass out.
Louis pushes in easy, filling Harry up like he has a hundred times before, but Harry feels it so much more than normal. His toes curl and he raises his hips to get Louis in deeper, and his breathes start coming so quick he really might pass out if he doesn’t calm himself. He shuts his eyes and fists his hand in Niall’s hair, and his other hand in the coverlet, to try and compose himself until Louis bottoms out inside him. Louis shoves Harry’s knees back towards his chest, high enough that just Harry’s toes are left on the mattress, and then Louis scoots closer; Harry can feel his hot skin all along the insides of his thighs. Louis’ first thrust is steady, controlled, and so slow Harry can feel every inch of Louis’ cock leaving him and entering him again.
Harry’s breath comes out all strangled-sounding and his fist twists in Niall’s hair, probably painfully. Harry struggles to open his eyes when he feels Niall’s breath on his cheek. Niall’s face is about two inches from his. They blink at each other for a moment and then Niall kisses him, right when Louis thrusts in again. Serendipity, Harry thinks. Harry’s not sure if kissing Niall is okay, but Niall’s lips are soft and Harry likes to be kissed while he’s being fucked, and Louis doesn’t stop fucking him when he and Niall start kissing— he starts to fuck him harder, actually.
Liam’s fingernails are scratching along Harry’s scalp, fingers getting hooked in Harry’s curls and pulling on them sharply now and then, and Zayn’s lost all focus on Harry’s cock, but his fist is still wrapped loosely around it and Harry can fuck up into it on his own now that no one’s holding him down, and Niall’s got his tongue in Harry’s mouth. He’s a better kisser than Harry expected. One of his hands leaves Harry’s side and Harry hears a zipper being dragged down, feels something wet grazing his thigh, and then Harry can feel every jerky motion of Niall’s hand against his hip as he wanks himself off. Harry slides his hand down to the back of Niall’s neck and kisses him deeper, until he can taste the whiskey in the back of his mouth. Louis holds Harry open with both hands high on the backs of his thighs and pounds into him, fucking him until he has to stop kissing Niall because he can’t breathe. He gets one good lungful of air when Louis accidentally slips out and has to guide his cock back in with his hand, but then Louis thrusts back in so hard that Harry loses it all on the cry he lets out when he comes.
When Harry can feel anything other than his orgasm again, his first thought is that he’s glad Zayn’s hand has left his cock because Louis’ fucking him right through the aftershocks and Harry’s not sure he could take the double overstimulation without screaming, or possibly dying. Zayn’s not even sitting in the same place anymore. It doesn’t take long for Harry to figure out that he went over to Liam, and from what he can hear (hands working cocks, and encouraging grunts and pants of each other’s names), Harry guesses they’re helping each other out.
Niall’s knuckles keep knocking against Harry’s thigh, stripping his cock so fast Harry’s afraid he might chafe, and just as Harry is about to offer to lick his hand for him, he wheezes, “Jesus, fuck, fuck,” and shudders apart against Harry’s side. A bit of come he doesn’t manage to catch in his palm splashes onto the skin of Harry’s thigh. Then Niall slumps against Harry, face flushed as red as Harry’s ever seen it and chest heaving. Harry scrapes his fingers upwards through the back of Niall’s hair and kisses him again, until Niall stops panting and starts lazily making out with him.
Louis hasn’t let up on his Harry’s ass at all, this whole time. His thrusts are starting to feel like too much, heightening his oversensitivity to an uncomfortable, even painful, level, but then Louis’ hips stutter and slow and Harry sighs, into Niall’s mouth, when he feels Louis’ coming spilling hot inside him.
There’s a hand in Harry’s hair again. This time it’s Louis’. He drags Harry away from Niall by his hair, not at all gently, and kisses him with too much tongue and teeth, forcing Harry’s jaw open so hard it starts to ache. Harry comes out of it with bruised lips, to Louis staring down at him with a possessive look in his eyes that makes Harry shiver. Niall got the hint right away and has since flopped back on the bed. Harry tips his head back to check on Zayn and Liam; their movements are languid, so they must’ve already come, but they haven’t bothered to pull away and fix themselves up. Their clothes are half-unbuttoned, half-unzipped— all-around disheveled, and their hands all over each other and they’re kissing, which is unexpected, but not that surprising.
Louis grabs Harry by his chin and kisses him again, gentler this time. Then he lowers his head to Harry’s chest, holding eye contact with him as he sucks a massive lovebite above his collarbone. Harry lets him do it until his skin starts to tingle, then pulls him back up so he can tuck his chin up over Louis’ shoulder and wrap his arms around his middle.
“Love you,” Harry says with a smile, right into Louis’ ear so no one else can hear.
Louis smiles and rubs little circles in Harry’s scalp with his fingertips until Harry feels like purring. “You too.”
“Do you think it’ll be... weird?” Harry asks, voice getting even quieter. “For us— I mean, for all of us?”
“Bit late to be thinking about that,” Louis says, and Harry gets a little worried. Louis continues with a shrug, “Probably. But not for long.” Then Louis switches from his normal tone to a steely, inspirational one and says, “Because nothing, nothing— did you hear me, Harry? I said nothing, not even impromptu orgies, can tear One Direction apart,” and Harry laughs into his shoulder and tells him to quit it. Louis hums and buries his face in the side Harry’s hair.
Harry thinks he’s right, though. Niall’s passed out near the top of the bed, arm flung over his face and dick still hanging out, and Liam and Zayn are sitting close, nodding heads resting on each other, looking like they’ll drop off as soon as they finish whispering about whatever they’re whispering about, and he and Louis will be out in no time— Harry knows that from experience. They’ll all wake up in this bed together, with two mostly empty bottles of liquor to dispose of and a lot of showering to do, and only time will tell whether it’ll be the awkward morning after to end all awkward morning afters or just another morning, but it’s nothing they can’t get past. Eventually, this will just be another one of those nights they keep strictly between the five of them.
.............. THIS FIC TOOK THREE POSTS
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