Work Text:
August
"All packed?"
Harry looks up from his last suitcase and smiles at Niall's mum. "Yeah. Niall is already bringing the stuff down to the car.”
Maura nods and sits down on her son's bed, watching Harry struggle with the zipper. "Come here, honey." She holds out her hand and he knows it's not about the suitcase. Niall's parents have one of the strongest soulbonds in the country, usually able to tell the location of someone’s soulmate with ease. But so far, no one has been able to pinpoint either Harry or Niall’s, and it hasn’t been for a lack of trying.
He obliges and lays his hand in hers, watches not for the first time as she covers his fingers with her own and closes her eyes. He has no idea how it works, what it is she feels or how she can usually tell exactly where one should be to find their soulmate.
She furrows her brows and Harry knows it'll once again not work. She's tried since he first met Niall when they were thirteen, but the result hasn't changed over the years. He's twenty-four, almost twenty-five now, that ever looming and dreaded twenty-seven coming closer and closer. But just because he's slowly starting to worry if he ever will find his soulmate before it's too late, doesn't mean her results will be different.
"I just don't understand," she whispers to herself. "You're supposed to be in Lockerbie, I can feel it. But at the same time you should be in Mullingar as well."
"Mum have you--oh for crying out loud, will you stop that! It won't change, we're duds and you'll just have to live with that!"
Niall is flushed from lugging their stuff to the car and he must have stopped off by the kitchen because there's crumbs down the right side of his shirt. It's like they're fifteen again.
Maura gets up and stands in front of him. "I just worry."
Niall's expression immediately softens and he looks chastised. "I know. But we've met everyone in Mullingar, twice over. It's time we checked out Lockerbie. And you did say the St Catherine's programme is one of the best? I'm sure Harry and I will be bonded in no time."
No one can be quite as chipper as Niall. He grins and hugs his mum, but rolls his eyes over her shoulder. It's not mean, more of an 'here she goes again' thing. She pulls free and everyone pretends not to see her wiping her eyes.
"It is. It's just that you'll be gone for so long."
Niall busts out laughing. "Mum, I've been to Uni. You didn't see me for months and months then, either. Plus you'll see me when you come in October, right? That's only two months."
She nods and pats his chest before heading outside, leaving them to the chaos that is Niall's room, discarded clothes strewn everywhere, all the essentials packed away.
Niall flops down on his bed with a groan. "Parents." He flings an arm over his face and the next words come out muffled. "I swear, just because I'm turning twenty-six next month she's worse than a mother hen."
Harry bites his thumbnail. "Well, we are cutting it rather short."
Niall sits up, elbows underneath him for support. "It's like assignments, right? When have you ever seen me start one ahead of time?"
"Never."
"Exactly," he says and falls back, like that is the winning argument, as always supremely unconcerned with life's deadlines. "Now lets get the car ready, I can't wait to see this place. Everyone is raving about it."
Harry grabs the last bag and they head downstairs, packing in the last bits and bobbles before saying their lengthy goodbyes. Niall is driving the first leg, Harry to take over once they reach the ferry. Not having to concentrate on the road, Harry finds himself with lots of green pastures to look at, and his mind drifts.
Last night, he'd looked at pictures of the St Catherine's School again, feels like he already knows it, as well as the little picturesque town it's part of. It's a tourist trap, looks like it's come straight out of one of those travel guides, where the words quaint and authentic get used a lot and every street has at least one B&B.
Their new home is actually an old English boarding school, the really posh kind with sprawling grounds and a main house so gorgeous it's become a tourist attraction in its own right. But even private schools need to pay bills, so they've opened up the second wing again, dusted the furniture and proceeded to convert it into a place for soulmeets; everything needed practically already there. There's a grand ball room, a dining hall that can easily hold all attendees. And the dorm rooms had been there from the start as well, handy little rooms with two beds. There’s more dark mahogany than should really be necessary for students but it fits the more upscale clients perfectly, people from all around the world staying there for the sole purpose of attending gatherings to find their soulmate.
And Niall's parents had pulled some strings and gotten them a place in the programme, in exchange for agreeing to come to one of the bigger gatherings. Strongly bonded pairs always attracted a lot of attention due to their special gift of locating soulmates. And so, for the next few months, the two of them will be living in an old school and attending posh parties, hoping to find their one-and-only.
The St Catherine's School itself still runs, just on a much smaller scale than in its glory days. But that also means once terms starts up again, they'll be tripping over teenage girls wherever they go. If anything about this plan makes Harry uncomfortable, that would be it.
When they're about two miles away from their destination, Harry finally voices his fear. "What if I bond with one of the students?"
Niall scowls at him. "It's an all girls school."
"I know."
"You're gay.”
Harry twists his hands in his seat belt. Niall is driving again, had taken Harry's spot after the last break. "You know as well as I do that whoever our soulmate is, is often surprising. And I think I'm bi."
Niall leans back against the headrest and looks at him with one raised eyebrow before returning his eyes to the road. He pulls at Harry's flamingo shirt, undone down to the last three buttons. "You're pretty gay."
"That's not the point, Ni," Harry says exasperatedly. "What if it's a ten-year age gap bonding?"
"Dude, since when are bondings embarrassing? That'd be awesome. Another pair matched."
Sometimes, talking to Niall can be difficult. It's impossible to get consolation from someone who doesn't see the problem in the first place because he's so laid back. And Niall is obviously not even trying. "You'd have to have sex. With a teenager."
Niall rolls his eyes and adjusts his seatbelt. "Don't be a fucking prude. Also, you could totally wait. You're only twenty-four."
Harry thinks about it for a moment. It's true though, mostly. If it really were a student at the school, he could wait until she's at least two years older before triggering the soulbond. No one would fault them, their society is just too in tune regarding everything to do with soulmates. Hell, even their politics are built on it, giving strong pairs such as Niall's parents far more sway than others. They'd been at the top for years, finally upstaged a few years ago when a triumvirate emerged in the UK. A three-way bond is so rare that the eyes of the entire world had been on England, still are, treating them like celebrities in their own right.
Harry sighs. When the public can accept a woman and two men to be the strongest soulbond in this country, they probably wouldn't worry much about him and a schoolgirl. He cringes. Why is he even thinking about this? It's probably to do with his mum's phone call, urging him to go to more soulmeets to find his. She's getting anxious. At his age, Gemma had been with Craig for almost three years already. No one likes to think about turning twenty-seven without having found their soulmate and parents turn especially fretful, or so he's finding out.
Niall squeezes his thigh. "You nervous?"
"No," Harry says as they reach the end of the mile long driveway and are greeted with an old brick mansion with honest-to-god ivy climbing its sides. He let's out a shaky breath. "Terrified."
###
Turns out, he was stressing for no reason. Most people taking part in the programme haven't yet arrived, and of course there are no students as they're off enjoying their holiday. So far, they've only been greeted by the headmistress and a few other members of staff.
It does get a bit weird when the headmistress, Mrs. Blandford herself, shows them their new living quarters. She's in her late fifties, with perfectly coiffed hair and a tailored skirt suit that fits her lean frame perfectly. She looks too regal to be doing such menial tasks as showing them around.
"I've spoken to your parents, Mr. Horan. We're very excited they've accepted our invitation," she tells them over her shoulder. "The rooms we've prepared for you aren't in the old dorms, but rather the old teachers quarters. I hope you will enjoy them."
They have to jog to catch up to her long strides, having fallen behind looking at the ornate wood carvings in the darkened corridor. Paintings of previous headmasters and -mistresses line the walls, their expressions ranging from jovial to stern.
Mrs. Blandford purses her lips when she notices them dawdling. Harry feels like he's back in school again, having just met Niall. "They're more spacious, it should help you settle in."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Harry says politely. "That's very kind of you to consider."
Niall purposefully misses a step and bumps into his shoulder. His eyebrows waggle comically on his forehead and apart from looking utterly ridiculous, it's meant to convey ‘aren’t you happy we are friends and my parents got us this upgrade?’
Harry flashes him a quick show of teeth before concentrating on Mrs. Blandford again.
"All staff members except for myself and the groundskeeper are unbonded. Apart from the grand soulmeets you've signed up for, we hold monthly gatherings with people from towns as far away as Hawick. Every quarter, we encourage our staff to go to the grand meetings in the bigger cities, I believe Edinburgh is next in line, in November. You are, of course, welcome to join."
Harry nods. He can't stand the grand meetings where literally thousands of unbonded people stand in line until at one side, the last person in line touches their neighbours hand, then moves on to the person standing beyond with his neighbour now trailing behind, mirroring his actions. This way, it's ensured that everyone touches everyone. The government rules it a good day when 0,2% of the attendants spark. Needless to say, there are a lot of grand meetings, at least two a week in the UK alone. And sure, they have their place, are highly important. But he's attended them since he turned thirteen and can honestly say they are the biggest bore ever.
"While we are highly concerned with the well-being of our clients, our primary concern are, of course, our girls." She gives them both a long look as though she's expecting them to contradict her. "We are a boarding school for the elite. Their families do not only expect us to instil in them the best education and mannerisms befitting for young women of standing, they also expect us to find their soulmates by the end of their school careers. We have regular scheduled meet-and-greets with schools from all over the country. You are welcome to attend, too, but we ask you to keep a respectful distance. The girls are young and sometimes frivolous." She smoothes her blazer down the front as though the well-rehearsed speech is still a touchy subject. She turns around again and leads the way primly. "No one likes a scandal, after all."
The way she says it makes something cold slide down the back of Harry's spine. That doesn't sound like someone warning them off because it's her job. It sounds like someone who's seen one too many scandals.
He looks at Niall, who seems oblivious to it all, almost walking backwards to keep admiring the artwork. Harry links their arms.
"You are such a tourist," he hisses under his breath.
Niall smiles at him sunnily and kisses his cheek. There's the familiar little spark when their skins touch, too weak for a soulspark but still something he shares with Niall and Niall alone.
The headmistress clears her throat. He cuts his eyes to her but she's looking straight ahead. He wouldn't be surprised if she is one of those people that only believes in sex with your soulmate. It's a traditional view, but many still share it.
He leans in and whispers in Niall's ear, "you'd never get away with this shit if it weren't for your parents, you do know that, right?"
Niall laughs under his breath. "You're probably right."
After a handful more turns, the headmistress stops in front of an old oak door, polished to the point of shining. She pushes it inward. There's a large living area with armchairs and two ornate writing desks off to one side. In the center of the opposite wall, grand and glorious, is a huge fireplace.
"This is your shared living space. Your individual rooms are off to the sides."
She makes an awkward hand gesture that reminds Harry of an air hostess pointing out the closest emergency exits on the plane.
"I do hope the rooms will be to your liking. I will leave you to get settled in now, your luggage should arrive shortly." She smiles at them both but it doesn't come across as warm. Not cold, either, just like maybe she doesn't have much practice with it. "I will see you at dinner and hope your stay here will be to your liking, gentlemen."
And then they are alone, grinning at each other like idiots.
Niall immediately toes off his shoes, grabbing Harry's shoulder for balance.
"What are you doing?"
"Mate, have you seen the carpets? That's some plush shit. Get yours off, too."
And Harry does, slipping out off his boots and quickly rolling down his socks. Niall drags him in front of the unlit fireplace and onto the shaggy carpet there, their toes digging into the soft material while their grins threaten to split their faces.
"Is it me," Harry says and drags his eyes slowly over the old but gorgeous two-seater couch, the heavy drapes over the long windows and of course, back to the fireplace. "Or have we accidentally hit the jackpot?"
Niall laughs, happy and high and throws his arms around him. "Lucky us," he says when he pulls back, his grin and good mood infectious.
"Okay." Harry bounces on his heels in the soft fabric. "Which room do you want?"
Niall doesn't even look at the doors just stares at him like he's lost his mind. "The one with you in it, of course."
Harry hugs him close and plants a sloppy kiss on him.
###
Dinner is a subdued affair with only one table in the big dining hall set up. Harry chats to Mr. Wibbleston, an elderly man who is in charge of looking after the grounds. Harry had been taken aback at first and very seriously asked if the work wasn't too demanding for him. Mr. Wibbleston--call me Alfred, boy--had laughed for a good long minute. While wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes he'd assured Harry that he wasn't there for the manual labour himself, they had lads from the towns nearby for that.
"I'm just here for my knowledge. There's a lot you can pick up in over six decades, you have no idea."
They're interrupted by Niall's rambunctious, loud little laughs that shake his whole upper body.
"What's so funny, then?" Albert asks, craning his neck to look around Harry.
"It's probably nothing. He just likes to laugh." He looks at Niall fondly, his best friend since forever, the person he has shared so many experiences with and who's here with him today. "He laughs at my jokes and I've been told I'm not very funny."
Albert nods. "Friends like that are important."
Harry looks at Niall, flushed and smiling broadly. "Yeah," he assures Albert. "Yeah, I know."
After dinner, they find themselves outside in the garden at the headmistress' request.
"A stroll through the gardens," Niall says in a nasally voice then crosses his eyes and speaks normally. "How old are we, fifty?"
"That was a horrible impression."
He bumps Harry's hip. "I'll have it down soon, you'll see."
"I don't doubt that. It's just not very nice."
"What's not nice, Harry Edward Styles, is us having to take a walk after dinner. For the digestion. That's not very nice. That's for, like, old people."
Harry grabs his arm and twirls them around, leaning his head back and looking up at the stars. "How can you even say that? Look at how gorgeous everything is! Have you ever seen that many stars before?"
Niall probably has, because he is the one who travels with his family regularly. But he indulges Harry, looks up at the stars and makes appreciative noises. "Very pretty."
Harry throws his hands up. "You are horrendous."
"Why? I said they were pretty!"
Harry just shakes his head. He can't get into an argument now, not even a mock one. He feels happy and free, like this is exactly where he needs to be. The elation is making his skin itch like crazy, Niall's touch ramping the buzz up another notch. He feels wild, alive.
"Let's go somewhere. Like a club or something."
"Sure." Niall says instantly and Harry loves him for being so quick to agree to his little mood swings. "Where?"
Harry looks around. "Well, I don't know. Why am I always the one that has to decide?"
Niall shrugs. "Cause I'm good at going along with stupid ideas, not coming up with them."
"Hey, that's not a stupid idea."
Secretly, Harry knows it's a lie. It's August and the nights are nippy because that's how it works in Scotland, even in the summer, especially after it rained and the temperature dropped. It's biting into their skin, right through the jumpers they both got from Gemma as a going away present. They don't even know the way to town, never mind any open places.
"We'll have to just go and explore. We'll find something."
Niall laces his arm through Harry's. "Of course we will. Lead the way!"
And they stumble their way along the path, Harry hoping they're heading at least vaguely in the direction of the town center, towards people still out and about, enjoying their evening.
Only one way to find out.
###
Almost an hour later, they're huddled against the bar of the local pub, named A Bunch of Carrots. It's probably meant to be quirky, but mainly it's just odd. They're trying to warm themselves with body heat while waiting for their drinks.
"See, great idea." Harry is betrayed by his own body when his teeth chatter.
Two beers are placed before them, followed by two shot glasses of tequila, which they down first, just to feel their bones again.
Harry turns around and leans on the bar with his elbows, surveying the people before them. The pub is filled to the brim, enough people rubbing shoulders that there's no seats left, more patrons standing than sitting.
"Popular place, this."
"Yeah," Niall agrees, sipping from his beer, casually mirroring his position. “Is that a band setting up?”
Harry cranes his neck but can’t see over the heads, most turned to one corner. “Probably.”
“Think they have a guitar?”
Harry laughs and pushes him into the throng of people. “Why don’t you go have a look.”
He turns back around, intent on chatting to the girl behind the bar. She's pretty and a local, judging from how she greets everyone by name. She's sure to have some insider information regarding this town. He’s curious how things work around here, after all. It’ll be his home for the rest of the year.
He tries talking to her when she's on his side of the bar but she just gives him a quick, "I'll be with you in just a sec, love."
She uncaps two beers and slides them down the bar while already nodding at another shouted order. Staffing the bar with only one person has clearly been a bad judgement call of whoever is in charge.
He’s about to offer his help—not that he's ever tended bar, but maybe he could, like, get her things—when the door flies open and crashes against the wall, a gust of cool air causing several patrons to turn around grumbling.
"Miss me?" the guy responsible asks, addressing the room at large. He has a lovely voice, slightly high and with a mischievous edge to it.
Harry can't help staring a bit--the guy is gorgeous, piercing blue eyes that sparkle and cheekbones so devastating Harry can feel a hot flush rise. A tattooed arm comes up to scratch at his scruff while he looks over his shoulder, waiting for someone. That someone comes into view and Harry hears himself swallow because what the fuck do they put in the water here? Smouldering dark eyes and a jaw line to cut glass. He looks like he’s just stepped out of a magazine ad.
Harry grabs for his beer, takes a sip and then rolls it over his flushed cheeks.
They’re laughing, the first guy grinning at his own antics or maybe at the way the other one’s eyes crinkle as he bends slightly forward while laughing, tattooed hand splayed on his chest. He straightens, dark strand of hair falling into his eyes and he grabs the first guy’s hips, steering them to the bar. Their little train comes to a sudden stop when the smaller guy at the front looks up and spots Harry.
“Hi,” he says. There's something calculating in his eyes and Harry squirms.
“Hi,” he replies.
The one behind perches his chin on the first's shoulder, which works because they’re both the same height, which is sort of tiny.
He nods almost disinterestedly at Harry. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Harry says again, slightly dazed.
They sort of stare at each other. Then the guy in the front clears his throat. “Right. I’m Louis, this is Zayn.”
Harry smiles. “Good to meet you. I’m Harry.”
Louis sags dramatically against Zayn and groans. “Are you seeing this shit? He’s got fucking dimples.”
Harry’s smile grows wider. People love his dimples, it's true. They say he looks cherubic, innocent. But there's something in Louis' tone to suggest there's absolutely nothing innocent about his thoughts.
Zayn rolls his eyes, apparently not up for Louis' banter. “He really likes dimples,” he tells Harry.
Louis throws a sharp look over his shoulder. “Oh look at me, I’m so unaffected, I’m so cool. I’m Zayn Malik.” His voice is mocking but Harry gets the feeling this sort of ribbing happens a lot. Louis holds his hand in front of his mouth and mock whispers, “don’t worry, Zayn. I won’t tell him there’s something poking me in the bum all of a sudden.”
Zayn scowls.
And how do you react to this? Harry usually has no problem in social settings, revels in being at the center of attention. But these two, with their easy understanding of one another and their perfect hair have him unsettled, like he missed a step and is still fumbling for the next.
He's thankfully saved by the girl behind the bar. “Oi! Fuckfaces. Since you’re already an hour late how about you don’t bother the customers and instead serve them?”
There’s a smirk on Louis’ face almost immediately and Harry just knows he's about to make a suggestive comment about serving their customers. Harry is already smirking, thinking of a comeback because these two might be unsettling, but Harry is good at the sexual innuendo game. He can totally bring it.
Instead, Zayn slaps a hand over Louis' mouth. “Don’t start. Eleanor will have your balls otherwise.”
Louis wriggles his eyebrows at Harry, then drags Zayn behind the bar. Zayn promptly disappears into the back room while Louis gives the girl, Eleanor, Harry supposes, a smacking kiss on the cheek. He rolls up his sleeves—Harry doesn’t stare at his tattoos, he just glances at them with a passing interest for an extended period of time okay—and looks at the people waiting for their drinks.
“Right," Louis says loudly, drawing the attention of the patrons waiting to place an order. "Which one of you is the least drunk?”
###
Harry will only admit this because he's slightly drunk, but for the next few hours his eyes are mostly glued to Louis. It's not his fault, either, as he tried to explain to Niall without anyone overhearing.
Louis jokes and makes fun of the regulars, pokes his nose into people’s personal lives and gets mortally offended when they attempt the same. He shuts them down with a quick ‘are you quite finished’ and ignores them for fifteen minutes. He bustles around, gets people their drinks or tells them ‘you don’t want that’ and brings them something else entirely.
It should be annoying, but somehow it isn't. He claps and hollers the loudest, even climbs onto a bar stool when the band introduces their new honorary member, Niall, and give him a three minute solo. When one of the patrons gets a bit too handsy with Eleanor, Louis grabs his wrist, leans up because the guy is a good head taller than him, to whispers something in his ear, fingers around his wrist turning white. The guy apologises to Eleanor. He comes and chats with Harry, too. So often that Zayn grumbles while squeezing past, which Louis just ignores.
Usually, Harry likes to talk to people, likes charming them into liking him. He knows he's good at it, too. He likes peoples attention on him, that's just how it is. But it's different with Louis. He could watch him indefinitely and still not have enough.
"Can I get you anything else?"
Harry is so lost in his own thoughts, he almost falls off his barstool. Louis is grinning at him, one hand absently wiping the bar with a dish towel. Harry points at it. "What are you doing?"
Louis looks down, surprised. "I'm wiping down the bar."
Harry leans over, squints at the streaks on the surface "You're really not."
Louis slings the dish towel over his shoulder and raises his eyebrows. "Are you telling me how to run the bar now?"
Harry bites his lip and shakes his head. Then a giggle escapes him and he clamps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.
Louis' mouth quirks for just a second, then he leans over and tugs on Harry's jumper where it covers his arm, pulling Harry's hand away from his mouth. "Don't do that."
Something in his tone has a shiver running up Harry's spine. He licks his lips and Louis' gaze immediately drops to follow the movement.
"Don't do what?"
Louis braces both hands on the bar, leaning over so his mouth is almost next to Harry's ear. "Don't cover your mouth. Prettiest thing to look at in here."
And Harry blushes, what the hell? He's good at flirting, okay? He usually takes the lead and he's good at it. And here Louis has him completely mesmerised and blushing like a schoolgirl.
"I'm not a schoolgirl."
He would be embarrassed it it weren't for the sharp little bark of laughter from Louis as he leans back and starts absentmindedly spreading the mess around on the tabletop again. "Trust me, Harold. I'm well aware of that."
Zayn moves behind him then, a couple of beers in his hand. "Stop flirting," he hisses. His eyes rake over Harry for a moment and he softens a bit. "He's very pretty, but you are working."
"You're very pretty, too," Harry blurts.
The compliment gets very little reaction from Zayn, who has to hear it a lot. Louis on the other side grins like a maniac and pets Zayn's bum. "Go on then, pretty. Let the adults talk."
"I hate you."
Louis laughs, like that's absurd. He takes another look at Harry and nods. "I'll make you another drink, yeah? Something new."
"What if I don't like it?"
Louis' eyes bore into him. "Trust me," he says lowly. "You'll like it."
Some time later, he brings Harry a banana daiquiri. Harry thinks he might be in love.
The rest of the evening is a drunken blur of Niall draping over his back, gushing about the band, of Louis placing drinks in front of him he's not paying for and of Zayn working behind the bar only to mysteriously vanish into the back room periodically.
###
"Last orders," Louis shouts, ringing the bell mounted behind the bar.
A rumble goes through the crowd. Harry can relate. He wants to stay here forever.
Harry turns to Niall but he's gone again, off in one corner laughing and playing like he's been friends with the band for years. Earlier when he came over and Harry hadn't been quite as drunk yet, they'd both admired the fit bartenders together. Harry sighs. Those had been good times.
Some time later, Louis shouts, “time at the bar,” and rings the bell again.Then he flips a light switch, fluorescent lighting flooding the room and it's unbelievably uncharitable. Harry puts his head down on the bar and just listens to the grumbles and shuffles around him.
"Come on now," Louis tells the patrons in a firm tone. "Time to get home. Or laid, whatever you want. It's just not gonna happen here."
He has a lovely voice. Harry could listen to it all day. Just lie with his head on his arms and listen to Louis talk.
"Hands off my bum, there you go Marge." Harry giggles. Louis also has the best bum on the planet. He could look at it all day, too.
There's something sticky between his crossed arms and the wooden tabletop but he doesn't care. His eyes are closed and it's dark and off to the side there's Zayn's soft mumble and it's lulling him to sleep.
A hand clamps on his back gently. "Harry?"
Harry blinks his eyes open. He isn't particularly surprised to see everyone gone, the chairs on the tables and the light behind the bar switched off. Even Eleanor is gone and now it's just Niall gently rubbing his back and Louis and Zayn talking near the door.
"Leave?"
"Yeah mate, time to leave."
Niall helps him stand because he's his best friend in the whole wide world. Harry slings his arm over Niall's shoulders and turns into his side.
"Where we going?"
"Home." It's Zayn, who's looking at him steadily. "Time for bed."
"You're very pretty." Harry reaches out and touches his cheek.
A tiny something zings through him and Zayn must feel it, too because his brown eyes widen slightly. Harry wants to tell him it's nothing to be excited about, he gets that each time he touches Niall as well. When they were younger they believed it to be the soulspark. So of course they'd had sex to see if it would manifest but nothing happened apart from some very fun orgasms. Harry had been heartbroken, though. Niall made him laugh like no one else could and he always thought they would have made great soulmates. He sighs. At least they still have the occasional orgasms, so that whole fiasco hadn’t been in vain.
But before he can untangle his thoughts Louis turns back to their little group, pocketing the keys from the pub. "Ready to go?" He's smiling but looks tired as well. Harry remembers they’ve just come off a long bar shift and he’s the one keeping them waiting.
"Yeah," Zayn mumbles, his eyes still on Harry and a slight frown on his face. He clears his throat and looks at Louis, smiling softly. "Yeah."
They all start heading down the road, Zayn and Louis with their hands shoved deep into their pockets, not enough alcohol in their veins to keep the brisk morning air at bay. Every other step their shoulders brush, a natural pull dragging them closer.
Harry is draped all over Niall, for support mostly. Not being Irish sucks.
The leaves of the trees lining the path rustle softly in the breeze and it would be scary if he were alone, can’t see more than a few yards. The darkness beyond looks ominous. He snuggles closer to Niall’s side.
Then his eyes are drawn back to the two boys trudging on ahead, each step sure like they’ve walked this way a hundred times, which they probably have. Something disturbingly like jealousy rears its head when all he sees is that space between them, that distance between their bodies that's just not enough for normal friendship.
He hates being drunk, it makes him maudlin.
"Are you bonded," he blurts out.
Zayn and Louis turn around in surprise, walking backwards now. "Nope," Louis says but slings an arm around Zayn. "Best mates." The gesture is possessive, plain and simple. Harry frowns.
Louis points between them. "Are you?"
Harry just stares so Niall shrugs. "Nah mate, thought we were, years back. Didn't manifest."
“Sorry mate,” is all Louis says before he turns around, Zayn still tucked against his side and they fall into step again, a weird mash of two times two. But he slows down, waits for Niall and Harry to catch up, until they’re all walking in a line.
"How old are you?" Zayn asks softly. They all know why.
Niall adjusts his grip on Harry's waist and replies, "Harry's twenty-four going on fifty-seven. I'm turning twenty-six next month. Still have time."
Zayn nods. "Yeah. I'm twenty-five as well, Louis is--."
"Twenty-six in December," Louis interrupts. Zayn frowns at him, apparently irritated at being interrupted. "I'm old, man. Better find my soulmate soon or I'll shrivel up like a raisin without one, won't I?"
It's said with forced humour and no one laughs. They're all aware that twenty-seven is the cut off date for a soulbond to occur. If you haven't bonded until then, you never will. Neither will your soulmate of course. It's heartbreaking to watch, even to those that haven't yet experienced a soulbond themselves.
The odds of not bonding seem astronomical at first. But something, like the universe or someone, like the deity of your choice, arranges events in your favour. All you need is to be open to it. There's soulmeets to go to, and online forums to join. Usually it's quite easy, actually. Of course, Harry hasn't had much luck with searching various databases when it comes to his soulmark. The little ‘hi’ that's been on his left biceps since he was born is rather hard to search for, sort of along the lines of ‘what can I get you’ or ‘is this seat taken’. Only it's worse, because most search engines require a minimum length of a word and he's pretty much lost before he even starts.
There he goes again, being all maudlin.
The silence is tense and Harry hates it, fishes around for some other, lighter topic. "You guys should visit us up at the school. There's a soulmeet on Tuesday."
Louis looks at Zayn and they grin mischievously. "Think we should pay the school a visit?"
"Think that might be a wonderful idea. Would be rude not to, after having been invited and all. You should visit us, as well.”
Niall perks up. “If you get the footie matches, I’ll bring the beer this Sunday.”
“If we get the matches.” Louis sounds affronted. “What else would I do with my weekends?”
And just like that, they have a date set for this weekend's Man U match. Harry remembers to exchange phone numbers with them. He might be drunk, but it seems he’s still doing most of the thinking. He hands Louis’ phone back about the same time they reach a crossroads.
Zayn points up a dark pathway, the dull light coming from the street lamps is illuminating the rising fog gloomily instead of doing a proper job. “Just follow that path, it leads right to the school.”
Harry's pouting because he doesn’t want to walk the path of doom, wants to stay with their new friends. But Niall hauls him off with a cheerful wave at the two and loud promises for the epicness that will be their new football tradition.
After a few steps Harry glances over his shoulder. Zayn touching Louis' face, then talking with animated gestures. Louis looks back at them, frowns when he catches Harry’s eyes. Harry pouts some more. What did he do now?
He's jostled out of his reverie by Niall. ”Good day, yeah?"
"Best," Harry agrees. He squeezes Niall’s side. “I like them."
Niall looks at him from the corner of his eyes. “Yeah.”
Somehow, they make it back to the school in one piece, manage to brush their teeth and stumble into one of the four poster beds. Harry curls into a tiny ball and Niall stretches out against his back, arm slung over Harry's waist. He sighs happily and closes his eyes, his mind swirling with images of Louis and Zayn walking down that path, and they follow him into his dreams.
Niall wakes up hard.
He grins. Evidently, today will be a good day.
He goes to stretch and feels the familiar warmth of Harry beside him, curled up as small as possible. He's been bigger than Niall since they were teenagers, but for whatever reason he won't accept that fact, still cuddles in underneath his arm or plonks down in his lap with a shouted ‘hold me Niall’. And Niall does, is the thing, because Harry is sort of endearing and because Niall loves to cuddle.
That had led to something more when they were fifteen and horny as fuck. The soulbond hadn't manifested, of course, but they were still fifteen year old guys who'd just found out that getting off with someone else's hand was kind of even more awesome than doing it by yourself.
And Harry is kind and hot and really, really funny. No honestly, Niall cracks up at least three times a day when he's around Harry. His parents’ concern that maybe they should tone down their physical relationship had therefore only had one effect; they did tone it down. In public. But when Harry needed attention or Niall popped a boner, they still had the option of climbing into the others’ bed. They didn't take that option every time, because they aren't like, dating or anything. But the option is there, and that's kind of important. Harry had complained that they were probably too co-dependant but Niall hadn't bothered much with it. Harry sometimes thought too much about stuff and got lost in his own head. Niall has no idea what to do about it, but Harry always comes back around a few days later, so it's not really an issue.
What is an issue, is his hard dick.
"Harry?"
There's no response. Harry is all but a lump under the covers, messy hair draped over the cushion and nothing else visible.
And Niall can't have that, so he pulls the covers down and rolls into a crouch. He's grinning down when Harry blearily and very, very slowly opens his eyes.
"We should make each other come!"
Harry blinks some more, like he's still processing. Then his lips stretch into a smile, all slow and languid but already on board. Harry's eyes sweep down to where Niall is tenting the front of his pyjama bottoms. "Good morning," he rasps out. His voice is scratchy, sexy.
He likes that.
His dick really likes that.
"Yeah, yeah. Orgasms?"
Harry twists around, pushing Niall back onto the bed. He pulls Niall's pyjamas over his erection carefully and just stares at Niall's dick. "Can I suck you?" He doesn't look up, biting his lip instead.
"Yeah, that would be--yeah."
Harry nods and leans down.
The thing is, Harry is bloody brilliant at this. He's been practicing since a birthday party of one of their friends, where he'd been dancing with another guy for the first time, grinding his arse back into the guy’s crotch. Niall was sitting on the couch, birthday cake on a plat e in front of him. There had been cake one moment, and then Harry dragging him off to the bathroom. He'd locked the door before Niall could really complain--dammit, it had been really good cake-- sank down on his knees and started unbuckling Niall's jeans.
"Uhm. What are you doing?"
Harry just looked at him with blown out pupils and a desperation in his eyes Niall had never seen before. He pressed his palm against his own erection, shifting his thighs together in those tight jeans of his. "Please," he said, almost whispered. "Please let me. I need to--."
And like, Niall hadn't really been sure what exactly was going on, but Harry had looked desperate, like he really needed Niall right then, and Harry's his best friend. Also, Niall doesn't really want to turn down a blowjob, ever, especially had not then, not when he'd been thinking about it for weeks. "Yeah. Yeah okay."
And just like that, Niall had gotten his first, messy blow job.
It's a memory Niall treasures vastly. It hadn't taken him long to work up the guts to pay Harry back in kind, and he was still happy to, but for Harry blowjobs were something that he practiced, almost obsessively, whenever he could.
By now Harry knows exactly how Niall likes it and even taught himself to deepthroat one summer. Niall couldn't really complain about being the test subject back then, not when he'd gotten head at least once a day. He'd even forgiven Harry for that unfortunate accident with the teeth that one time, because suddenly, he'd found himself with his dick in Harry's throat, unbearably tight and fucking fantastic. In Niall's book, you haven't received a proper blowjob until you experienced that. And so far, he hasn't found anyone else who could do that besides Harry.
So yes, when Harry offers a blowjob, Niall accepts. And when he takes him in his throat twice, maybe three times during it, Niall just loses his mind and floats with the angels and shit. It's bloody brilliant and he keeps telling Harry and Harry looks all shy and happy. Which is weird because Harry really isn’t shy and--fuck.
Just like that his dick is in Harry's throat. "Motherfucker."
Harry hums. And that feels interesting, too. Then Harry starts moving, suction perfect. He doesn't use his hand except for holding his torso up, but then he doesn't have to. He doesn't need to use his hands to cover the entire length, not when he can just lean down, further, and do that.
Niall groans and squashes down the urge to thrust up, bury his cock deeper.
He's getting close and Harry can tell. He pulls back and sucks hard at the tip while stroking the base, hard and fast. It doesn't take long until Niall feels the familiar tightening and grabs for Harry's hair, because speech is well beyond him right then, pulls him off just as he comes, streaking his own stomach.
Harry doesn't relent, strokes him through it, grip getting more and more gentle. Afterwards, he just stares at Niall's come-covered stomach for a long time, licking his lips.
"You tend to zone out a lot, mate."
Harry shakes himself. "Oh, sorry."
Harry's hard now, always gets hard when he's getting him off like that. Niall pulls him closer and wraps his hand around Harry's dick. "Hand or mouth?"
"I uh--doesn't matter."
Niall shrugs and starts tugging.
The first week had flown by in a haze of new arrivals to the programme, of dinners listening to Mr. Wibbelston regale them with stories surrounding the school and exploring the town and Harry enjoys them greatly.
Their Saturday plans involved little apart from buying some beer and waiting for the afternoon to roll around, so they could head out and watch the match at Louis and Zayn’s.
The path on the way is lined with trees, which grants them a walk in the shade. It's one of those summer days that get pretty warm, even here. Harry would love nothing more than to take off his shirt. Maybe his pants too.
But Niall had told him to tone it down with the nakedness and he's trying, he really is. Anyway, if there's one thing he learned it's that walking around naked? Not so much fun as sitting around naked.
"Are you sure this is the right way?" He whines.
Niall frowns at him. "Dude, it was only a few days ago. Yes, I'm sure."
Harry looks around at the unfamiliar surroundings. "Shit I must have been more drunk than I thought. I can't remember any of this."
Niall claps him on the back. "Well, it was dark at the time."
They walk in silence after that and soon turn on an even smaller path, the only indication of a dwelling nearby the letterbox up by the main road they crossed. It's not even asphalt, just pressed down dirt leading off the street and Harry looks around dubiously.
"What if they live in some sort of hovel?"
Niall frowns at him. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Then we compliment them on the lovely wallpaper and watch the game."
Harry bites his lip. He's not really sure why it would bother him if Louis and Zayn lived in obvious poverty. He just. He wants them to be happy.
The path slopes gently downward, the trees around them getting less dense. When they turn the corner he almost stops dead in his tracks, kicking himself for ever having worried. The cottage rises before them, a simple, double story building, quaint and lovely, with wooden shutters and roses creeping up one side of the walls, trimmed meticulously to display the huge half-round sitting room window overlooking the generous garden beside it. Over the wooden fence, Harry can see an unuded veggie patch, various trees and bushes scattered around with no discernible pattern, yet still pleasing to the eye. There’s the odd weed peaking out between the flower and the cracks in the stone walkways, but somehow, that makes it all the more endearing.
Beside him, Niall snickers. "Remember how you thought they lived in a hovel not five minutes ago? And now look at this! There's a birdbath and a thatched roof."
Harry is too charmed by the entire picture to do anything but stare. "It looks like it's straight out of--I don't know, a novel or something."
Niall claps him on the back. "Always the romantic."
Zayn greets them smelling of paint and smoke and it suits him somehow. Louis had just gone out to fetch something, so they deposit the beer they brought and follow Zayn as he shows them around.
Harry makes an undignified noise when they head out onto the back porch. "You have a porch swing? Can I move in? Please?" He drapes himself over Zayn in a weird starfish hug. Zayn stiffens for only a second before melting into him, so he doesn't let go. There are several stone pathways leading off into the back garden and it's so vast, Harry can't even see the edges from the property here. There are trees, so many that it could almost be called a small forest, and flowers and yet more vegetable patches. Off in the distance he hears water running. "The garden is my fave."
Zayn flushes slightly. "Thanks."
"You take care of it?"
Zayn nods, so Harry starfishes him harder.
"Is he okay," Zayn wheezes in Niall's direction.
Niall claps him on the back, grinning. "Seems like he is your problem, now."
Harry pouts and immediately reaches for Niall, pulls him into Zayn's side and hugs them both tightly until they tell him to fuck off.
"Honestly," comes a new voice, "I leave you alone for one minute and you start having a threesome. Without me."
They turn as one to find Louis standing behind them, the light of the setting sun accentuating the dips and valleys of his face, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks and his eyes the most amazing shade of blue.
Harry clears his throat, almost forgets how to speak. "You can join us any time."
Louis raises one arched eyebrow. "Can't. Have a game starting in two minutes."
There's a curse from Niall who extracts himself so fast Harry has to cling to Zayn for balance. "Shit--and we're here looking at bloody flowers."
Louis winks at Niall, while Harry lets go of Zayn to thumps Niall on the back of his head. "Ow! What'd you do that for?"
"Because you're being an insensitive fuck."
"Niall here just understands how it is. He knows how to prioritise. I respect that in a man." He grabs for Niall, probably planning to pull him in front of the telly forcefully. But they both freeze. "What the fuck?"
Niall looks at where their hands are touching. "Mini spark," Niall murmurs and looks at Harry in confusion. "Same one we always get."
"You know it?" Zayn asks. "I had it with Harry the other night." He reaches out to stroke Niall's cheek and judging by the way Niall's eyes bulge, it happens again.
"Yes, yes," Louis says impatiently. "Can we do this touchy feely thing later? We have a football match to watch." With that he turns around and heads inside.
Niall looks at them apologetically and follows.
Zayn turns to Harry. "It's weird, right?"
"Yeah," Harry says, a frown settling on his face. "I've had it with Niall for as long as I can remember."
"Any idea as to what it means?"
"Trust me," Harry says dryly. "No one knows. We've met several strong pairs and they all get very mixed messages. We baffle them all and in the end, they have no answer."
"That sucks," Zayn says, looking down. "I'd hoped we get some answers when it happened between us." He raises his hand slowly and ever so gently runs his fingers down Harry's cheek. The familiar feeling rushes through Harry and he shudders when Zayn doesn't break eye contact.
He cups Zayn's hand with his own and presses it against his skin. "Sorry."
Unlike Niall, Zayn doesn't burst out laughing. He just smiles softly, his eyes almost amber in the sunlight. "Not your fault, Harry."
A shiver runs through him then, and he has to fight the urge to lean in and kiss Zayn. Right. Only known the guy for a few days. Plus, hasn't he been flirting with Louis? God, he needs to get laid.
"Right, so." He breaks the moment and Zayn takes a step back. "Wanna go inside and watch?"
Zayn shrugs. "Louis makes me sometimes, but if I'm honest, I'd rather work in the garden or on my art."
Harry perks up. "What kind of art do you do?"
"I just kind of. I don't know. Some doodles, some spray paint."
"Yeah?" Harry grins, mostly due to the fact that Zayn has almost turned shy. He rolls on the balls of his feet. "Can I see?"
Zayn looks delighted, then mortified, then resolute. "Maybe some other time?"
Harry knocks their shoulders together. "Fine. Show me the garden instead."
As it turns out, Harry doesn't watch a single minute of the match, instead hangs onto Zayn's every word as he takes him through his garden. It's obviously a matter of pride for him, as it well should be. There is so much to see, from stone benches hidden behind trees whose branches droop dramatically, almost sweeping the ground. There's a small pond with fish, and to Harry's utter delight, he learns there are frogs as well, though try as he might, he can't see any.
"They keep the insects away." Zayn says softly and pulls him down on a nearby fallen tree turned bench, the seats carved out and ragged edges filed down. "If you sit quietly, you'll see them."
They sit there, Harry with bated breath, for a long moment. He expects the frogs to come out of their hiding places, expects to see them when they creep about. Instead, his eyes jump over the scenery and and suddenly, where there had been only rocks and leaves before, he sees a frog, perfectly camouflaged and not moving a muscle.
He grabs Zayn's hand excitedly, the familiar current shooting through him, and points at it. Zayn nods and points further to the left. It takes his eyes a moment, but then he sees it. This one is much bigger than the first one, more brown than green and again perfectly melting into the background. Once he sees them, he wonders how he had ever looked past them.
Zayn looks at him for a long moment. "You really enjoy this, don't you?"
Harry tears his eyes away from the third frog he just made out. "Of course."
Zayn matches his small smile and squeezes his hand. Right. They're still holding hands. And shouldn't that be weird? It isn't. "I'm glad."
There's a loud crash from the entrance hall, followed by absolute silence. Then, “You are such a dick,” Zayn shouts.
Louis just smiles to himself and sends off his latest message to Harry. They've been texting on and off the whole day. He switches to the camera app instead.
“Why are your shoes everywhere? I have to wade through this shit.”
The door opens and Zayn stomps through, looking harried, shopping bags in his hands and a murderous look in his eyes.
“I swear you are the messiest person alive, it’s disgusting. And a hazard. Also, this is the absolute last time I go shopping for you. Fuck that.”
Louis snaps a picture of him. “Such a pretty boy yet such a dirty mouth. It’s like you’re trying to turn me on on purpose.”
Zayn glares at where he's sprawled on the couch. “You can go fuck a duck, that’s what you can do.”
“Aww baby, did you have a bad day?”
Zayn just looks at him, teeth clenched. "If you start calling me baby again, I'm bringing ‘bro’ back.”
Louis winces and watches him stomp off to the kitchen, swearing creatively.
He sends the picture of the harassed looking Zayn to Harry with the caption ‘food delivery just arrived’.
Harry’s status changes almost immediately and he starts typing. Louis so has this in the bag.
You wanna come over later? zayn could cook
It takes Harry some time to respond, like he’s choosing his words carefully. he doesnt look like he wants to cook. but i could
Louis presses the home screen, then opens his phone app and hits Harry’s contact.
“Hi Louis,” Harry says happily when he picks up a moment later.
“Are you offering to wine and dine me, Harold?”
Harry giggles. Giggles. This boy is all sorts of precious. “With your own food, yeah.”
“Come by at seven then.”
There’s the tiniest pause, then Harry almost whispers, “okay.”
“Yes?”
“Yes,” he says, louder this time.
“Good boy. See you then!” And with that he hangs up and gets off the couch in search of Zayn, to tell him the good news.
The kitchen counters are strewn with food cartons, tissue wipes and other assorted kitchen-- thingies. Zayn’s head is practically inside one of the bottom counters and his skinny arse is up in the air.
Louis leans against the door frame. “Looking at this mess, it’s a wonder you dare tell me about my uncleanliness.”
Zayn snaps upright, face flushed from bending down or because he’s about to strangle Louis.
Louis smirks.
“I need you to stop. I’m in a shitty mood and your lame jokes are driving me to homicide. Yours in particular.”
In a show of good faith, he picks up a bag of—flour, right—to pack it away. He looks around. Where would be a logical place to store flour?
Zayn stares at him then snatches the package out of his hand. "Just get out."
"I'm trying to help," Louis says and his tone is almost apologetic. He doesn't do apologetic well, has too much fun riling Zayn up even when he's in this kind of mood.
"Well, don't."
He does anyway but it turns out that he has no idea where most of this stuff goes. Also, Zayn won't tell him why he's in a shitty mood and Louis can't have that, keeps poking at it like a scabbed over knee. Eventually Zayn throws the carton he's holding onto the counter and storms out.
Louis looks at the food out on the counter for a long moment, shrugs and heads for the living room.
When Harry arrives some time later, the kitchen is still in the same sorry state. Harry surveys it for almost a minute. Even though no one has been in here, it looks worse than before, a mess, verging on chaos.
"Okay." Harry says with a deceptively slow drawl. "I'm not even gonna ask." Then he starts forward, picking up the closest object, a family-sized pack of corn flakes with his free hand, the other one still clutching a shopping bag with, apparently, more food.
Louis snatches the cereal from him. “Why did you bring food, I told you Zayn just got some.” He loves himself some cereal each morning. Unlike with the flour, he totally knows where they keep it. Who the hell eats flour, anyway?
“I wasn’t sure what you had. It’s a simple recipe, so it’s just a few things. Also you left the food out, so I think I made a good call.”
He stuffs the box into the cupboard, then rests his back against it. "Zayn was angry with me," he explains, crossing his arms defensively.
A laugh bubbles out of Harry. It turns his face into this open, wonderful thing. Louis sort of wants to fuck the living daylights out of him. Or cuddle in front of the telly, he can't really decide.
"And what, you decided to not pack away the groceries? There are dairy products sweating on the counter, Louis."
"Not to blow my own whistle or anything, but I'm really good at a lot of things, right? I'm funny, I pay my rent on time, I'm the best partner in crime and I'm a fantastic lay." Harry looks at him from under his lashes then and Louis counts it as a win. "But I'm absolute rubbish at this whole kitchen cleaning, domestic living thing."
Harry scrutinises him for a moment. Then he snatches the milk and walks past. "Okay," he says easily.
Louis doesn't trust the reaction. "Okay?"
Harry shrugs and stores the milk in the fridge. "I love the whole kitchen cleaning, domestic living thing." Louis scrunches his nose in disbelieve. "No really! I like it. And it's not like I get to cook at the school. So why don't you let me work my magic here and I'll have a dinner for us in no time."
The working your magic bit is too obvious not to comment on, but Harry interrupts him before he can even get started.
Harry leans in close to his ear, both hands braced beside Louis' head and huh. "Thanks for being honest. I really appreciate it," Harry whispers in his ear.
He moves back and, as promised, does kitcheny things while Louis just stands there with his jaw dropped open, watching him move, all long body, wild hair and tiny bum.
Harry is. Harry is something else. Louis is no stranger to flirtation, knows how to get a guy’s attention wherever they are. Some guys have tried to shock him with dirty talk--and while it's appreciated and fun, so far he'd been the one to come out on top, replying in kind and totally derailing them.
So when Harry had boxed him in just now, he'd expected something similar. Guys liked towering over him, pinning him and telling him what they'll do to him. He goes along with it when the mood strikes him, but that's the exception. Usually he gets them so off kilter within minutes that they forget all about how they wanted to fuck him, begging him instead.
But this pigeon toed, long-limbed boy with eyes always wide in surprise at the general awesomeness that is life had thanked him. For something as mundane as telling him he wasn't any good in the kitchen.
"You are so weird," he says, but he wonders what else he can make Harry say thanks for.
Harry smiles at him, a small, unsure question in his eyes.
"I like it, it's good," he clarifies and watches the doubt vanishes from Harry's eyes instantly, leaving behind deep dimples and a flash of teeth.
Louis definitely wants to fuck and cuddle him.
###
A good thirty minutes later, Louis is sitting on the counter in a pristine kitchen. Harry stirs the sauce on the stove, tasting it every once in a while. Between adding herbs and onions and god knows what else, Harry is telling a convoluted story about his and Niall's christmas adventure a few years back. He trips over his own words, backtracks to add in pertinent information and generally makes a mess of it. His speech is slow, dragging, only not really, and he gesticulates a lot with his pinky extended more than his other fingers. At one point the drops the wooden spoon into the sauce. It should be a disaster.
Only it isn't, and he finds himself hanging onto Harry's every word. He's swinging his legs, nibbling on a stolen carrot and wondering what, exactly, is so enchanting about Harry Styles.
Harry slides along the counter until his hip bumps into Louis' knee. He leans over, spoon in one hand, the other cupped underneath, should the Bolognese drip.
"Try this. But careful, it's hot."
Louis looks at him for a long, long moment until Harry begins to shift uncomfortably, looking down and back at him again, his cheeks turning slightly red.
He grabs Harry's wrist and pulls the spoon closer. A tiny shock zings through him, the one he gets when touching Zayn. Harry just stares at him with his mouth hanging open in shock, pink lips stained dark from the sauce. He looks absolutely stunning. "I like it hot."
He tries the sauce. As promised It's hot, but delicious as well. The kind you get in restaurants and, no matter how many different brands you try, never from an instant meal.
Harry flinches a bit when a chunky piece of hot tomato slides from the underside of the spoon and lands in his cupped hand.
Can't have that, Louis thinks and grabs Harry's hand, wraps both of his smaller ones around it, then licks a broad stripe up the palm, accidentally smearing more sauce over Harry's fingers in the process.
Silly him.
Still feeling the slight hum in his body that just makes everything that much more alive, he wraps his mouth around Harry's finger and sucks.
Harry's eyes go unfocused and Louis wants to pull him between his legs, reel him in until they're pressed together tightly. He usually hooks up with guys at parties or clubs, so he's not sure about the protocol when someone has come over to cook for him. Maybe it's a bit too forward to be pressing their dicks together just yet.
Right. Because sucking on Harry's finger, stopping to take a second one in, is in no way being forward.
Harry sort of isn't breathing, completely unmoving and just staring with wide eyes.
Louis smirks around his mouthful. He thinks Harry might blush again but instead, Harry drags his fingers out slowly and pushes them back inside, his thumb propped against Louis' jaw for traction. His face is thoughtful and the corners of his wide mouth are tilted upwards.
Okay. This is a delightful turn of events, Louis can totally work with this.
Only he can't, because suddenly Zayn is there and Harry pulls his fingers out and goes back to his pots like nothing happened.
Louis pouts and adjusts his trousers.
Zayn raises an eyebrow and gives him one of his lopsided smiles. The one with the twinkle in his eye that promises lots and lots of teasing.
"Is that spaghetti bolognese?"
Harry nods. "Home made, you want some?" He breaks off suddenly and looks shy again. Or maybe not shy, Louis thinks. Maybe Harry doesn't really do shy. Maybe he's thinking on how to phrase his next sentence exactly right. Not that it helps, turns into a convoluted mess once more, albeit a loveable one. "It's only beef mince meat, no pork. And I bought halal meat. I mean, you have tattoos and you had at least one beer at the bar the other night but it's not like it makes a difference to anyone else and I didn't want to bring non-halal food in your kitchen and prepare it and then it turns out you do only eat halal and. Well, that would have been just rude and--."
"You bought halal food? For me?" Zayn looks stunned and Louis maybe wants to kiss Harry for being this thoughtful. He definitely wants to kiss Harry.
"Uhm yeah. I--I mean I didn't want to presume but--." Harry is cut off by Zayn launching himself at him, arms wrapped tightly around Harry's neck. Harry immediately encircles Zayn's chest, fingers holding his own elbows in a proper hug.
There's a loud, wet smacking sound when Zayn kisses Harry's cheek. "I think we should keep this one, Lou."
Louis bumps both of their sides by swinging his legs. "I think you're right."
They have a lovely dinner, cooked to perfection by Harry. He visibly preens from their compliments and somewhere in the back of his mind, Louis files that away. Dinner talk revolves around football for only a moment, then veers off to street art and ends with a discussion on religion. It's a topic Louis listens to attentively but doesn't contribute much, mainly because he doesn't know enough to butt in.
Usually he likes everyone's attention on him, likes it when he says something, even quietly, and has every head turn to him. But watching these two talk makes something in his chest ease, like he could watch them for hours without getting that usual itch under his skin.
It's amazing to see Zayn's eyes light up when Harry bestows his own special brand of attention on him.
People quickly dismiss Zayn's personality in favour of his looks. Louis has watched it happen a hundred times over. It makes him want to tear out his hair, scream at them that Zayn is so much more. Harry is not the first to look beneath the surface, but Louis can count the ones before him on his fingers, without needing to borrow someone else's hand to continue counting.
It's been a recurring theme in their life and Louis has taken it upon himself to counteract its negative effects by mocking Zayn’s appearance mercilessly whenever he can. It wouldn't do for his best friend to buy into the bullshit and reduce himself to only his face, regardless of how pretty it is. Also, they've been friends for ages. He's totally earned the right to mock Zayn whenever the mood strikes.
Still, it's nice to see someone else appreciate Zayn's interests and he watches it for a long time.
###
But eventually he's had enough introspection for one evening. Too much of that and he'll start boring himself.
Time for some fun, he decides after finishing his last bite.
"Right," he says before downing the last of his wine. "We should grab that second bottle and head out to the pool."
"The school's swimming pool," Harry asks dubiously.
He locks eyes with Zayn and immediately knows he's on board. "Yes," Zayn says. "That's the only pool around for ages."
"But isn't it like, closed?"
They both look at Harry for a moment before breaking out in laughter.
"Oh Harold," Louis says while getting up and grabbing the mentioned bottle of wine. On second thought, he takes the third one as well. "We have so much to teach you."
Zayn is already pulling excitedly on Harry's sleeve. "Up, up, young grasshopper! No time like the present."
While they slip upstairs for some hoodies--it might be summer in the UK but it's also late at night--Zayn pulls on Louis' sleeve for his attention. He checks the stairs to make sure Harry hasn't followed them.
"Look mate, if you'd rather be alone with him I can totally understand. I don't wanna cock block you."
Louis feels his chest tightening and his lips spreading in a smile. He flicks Zayn's chin and leans in for a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. "Don't be an idiot. This has the potential to be an epically fun night. I’m not gonna break into the school without you."
Zayn really has to make himself say it, Louis can tell. He'd much rather just bound down the stairs and head out, and really, that energy is all Louis wants right now. "You sure?"
"Bros before hoes," Louis says flippantly and drags him back downstairs, clutching three hoodies.
"What the fuck, Lou? That doesn't even make any sense."
Louis rolls his eyes, flings open the front door and grabs Harry with his other hand. "Of course it does, Malik! Has the hair spray finally fried your brain?"
"Oh? And how long did you spend in the bathroom this morning, Tomlinson? That's right, almost two hours!"
Louis pushes both guys in front of him, Harry looking slightly bewildered and Zayn struggling with the jumpers that Louis shoves at him, one arm already dragging in the dirt. Louis just herds them in the right direction while shaking his head sadly. "We can't all roll out of bed looking pretty, Malik. Some people have to work hard for that."
Zayn snorts. "Yeah, because your cheekbones are such an inconvenience. Hell, your whole face. What a bother."
"This is an argument you will never win." See, Zayn doesn't need people to tell him about his looks. Louis is totally on top of that.
"What argument is that?"
"The 'omg you are so much prettier than I am, really I totally mean that'." Louis pokes him in the chest then cups his jaw in both hands. He turns Zayn's head so Harry can see. "Isn't he just the prettiest thing you've ever seen?"
Harry looks at Zayn with a critical expression and Zayn isn't used to Harry taking ages to answer, gets totally flustered by it. Louis can tell, because Zayn's cheeks burn under his fingers. He pushes his palms together to give Zayn a rather unattractive fish-mouth.
"Definitely the prettiest," Harry agrees in his deep drawl. Then his eyes roam over Louis face. "Must be something in the water here."
Louis laughs and lets go of Zayn, smacks a sloppy kiss on Harry's cheek instead, the little jolt riling him up another notch. Harry, graceful as he is, almost loses his balance. "None of that, now," Louis admonishes and puts a guiding hand on Harry's waist. "You're carrying the wine, can't have you tripping."
Harry does keep tripping, sometimes over dents in the road, sometimes his own two feet. Louis thinks it best to wrap an arm around his waist and leave it there. Just to ensure Harry’s safety, and not because he likes feeling Harry’s hip shift under his palm when he moves.
They arrive at the gate, the fence completely enclosing the swimming pool from midnight hooligans looking to cool off. Zayn stands with his back to it and cups his hands in front of him.
“Uhm, shouldn’t I,” Harry asks dubiously. “I am the tallest.”
Louis pats his cheek. “I totally got this, trust me.” Also, Harry would likely break his neck and that would be such a waste.
He holds onto Zayn’s shoulders and steps into his cupped palms, then lets Zayn push him a bit further up until he can comfortably grab the top of the fence He swings a leg over, wobbles for a bit but manages to find his balance again. He's such a ninja. The pool stretches before him, dark and lovely with the light from the moon reflecting off the slightly rippled surface.
Seconds later he lands on his feet, hard, and has to steady himself with a hand on the ground.
A giddy laugh bubbles up from somewhere in his stomach. For the first time in a long while, he feels free.
He vanishes behind the little shed and it takes him forever to find the little pole between all the various pumps and tubes responsible for filtering the water. When he does, he presses the little button on it.
The unmistakable little snick of the gate opening fills the silence.
“Still got it,“ Zayn says and holds out his hand for a high five. Louis smacks it, hard, because Zayn is such a nerd and needs to be reminded of that fact periodically.
He's rewarded with a mumbled, “fucker."
Louis takes the wine from Harry and hands it off to Zayn. “Okay, listen up Styles, these are the rules.” He waits for Harry’s full attention before continuing. “We stay by the shallow end, where we can stand if we fall in or whatever. We watch out for each other.” His hand shoots out lightning fast and pinches Harry’s nipple. “We are responsible drunks, okay?”
Harry rubs his nipple absentmindedly. “Okay.”
He affects his best Hagrid voice, “yer one of us now, ‘Arry,” and is rewarded with a blinding smile, even in the darkness.
They settle down, spreading out the hoodies to sit more comfortably and Harry takes a wine bottle, then looks at them with wide eyes. “Uhm. Did anyone bring a corkscrew?”
“Are you kidding me?” Zayn groans and flops on his back dramatically.
Louis pats himself down and pulls out a pocket knife. "It's not one with a corkscrew."
Harry takes it anyway. He removes the outer cover and then, piece by piece, starts picking out the cork by pushing the knife in and using the edge of the bottle to lever it up.
“Well this is all sorts of elegant.”
“Shut up, it’s totally working.”
Louis can’t say much to that, because it is.
After some time of cursing and readjusting, Harry gets the knife jammed in just so and manages to break free a big piece of cork, the last bit easily pushed into the bottle. He peers down its opening like he can actually see anything in the darkness. “There’s some cork floating around in there, but at least it’s open?”
“You’re a genius!” Louis pokes Zayn hard in the chest. “Oi, Harry is a genius. Regular Indiana Jones.”
Zayn just grabs the bottle but Harry is still beaming, so fucking proud of himself that Louis can’t help it. He leans over and gives him a quick, congratulatory kiss, then mumbles against his lips, “well done, baby.”
"If you two are gonna start making out, I’m leaving. And I’m taking the wine with me. Both bottles.”
Louis looks at Harry’s face a moment longer, at the open happiness before pulling back. He pats Zayn's cheek.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Zayn. If anything, this will be the hottest threesome in the existence of ever.”
Zayn just rolls his eyes and brings the bottle to his lips.
“Harry baby, can you open the other bottle in the meantime?”
Harry bites down on his bottom lip, nods and gets right down to work. Louis smacks his hands together and rubs them happily. “Right. So. We’re playing ‘never have I ever’ and I’ll start with,” he looks at Zayn who is sitting up and folding his legs underneath him, then over to Harry, busy with the second bottle. Time to get some real answers. “Never have I ever had a dick in my arse.”
“You are so subtle, jesus christ,” Zayn mutters, grabs the bottle and takes a drink.
Harry stops his work on the second cork and takes a quick gulp before handing it over to Louis and resuming his work. he fumbles with the knife, slips and almost rams it into his own foot. Suddenly, Louis isn't sure if trusting him with something sharp was such a good idea. He's not clumsy, not really, but he's also far from graceful. Harry is completely focused on the job at hand though, readjusting his big hands on the bottle while his tongue peeks out between his teeth in concentration. Hair flops into his eyes but he doesn't push it back. Harry's enjoying himself, Louis decides. He's enjoying their attention, sure, but what's more is he's enjoying being helpful. Something like protectiveness flares inside of him, a simmering something he knows all too well.
Zayn takes the bottle and holds it against his lips, frowning. "I should have brought some weed. I'm not even drunk yet."
Louis rolls his eyes, because Zayn is that friend, the one that complains about not being drunk or stoned enough even before they're finished. Experience has shown that nothing Louis says will change his mind. He just has to wait, because once the effects of the wine set in, Zayn will start gushing about Batman's thighs and have forgotten all about his complaining.
"Never really smoked before," Harry tells them easily while popping another piece of cork out. "Never really got the chance once I was able to inhale. Took me ages to learn. Niall had to hold my nose, otherwise I'd just puff."
Zayn looks just a little bit horrified and slings an arm around him. "If you want, we can smoke some the next time you come visit."
Harry nods, not looking up from his work.
"'Kay. 'Kay, so. My turn," Zayn mutters and pats Harry's cheek until it dimples. He scans their surroundings, eyes lighting up when they fall on the water. "Never have I ever had sex in a swimming pool.”
Zayn has to drink, and so does Louis, because the sex they'd been having at the time was with each other. Turns out, water is an absolute shit lubricant, who would have guessed.
Harry looks up but shakes his head, grinning proudly when he shows them the second bottle, opened now. He places it off to the side, brushing pieces of cork off his legs. “No sex in a pool, yet. But uhm. Do these have to be sexual,” Harry asks when he’s handed the bottle for his turn.
Zayn smiles. “If you want to keep it fun, yeah.”
It’s a challenge and again, Harry surprises him. “Never have I ever had sex with my best friend.” Then he drinks.
Louis hesitates, for just a split second, then he takes a sip. He hands the bottle to Zayn and croons, “oh-ho. Bottoms up, Zaynie-boo."
"Not my bottom, boobear."
Louis rolls his eyes. "Whatever, I'm versatile. Unlike you, you ungrateful little shit." He looks back at Harry, interest piqued and he decides to investigate Niall and Harry's arrangement further. “Never have I ever had sex with my best friend within the last month.”
Only Harry drinks, slightly flustered.
Zayn asks about the amount of sexual partners and only Louis has to drink because yeah, he’s definitely had more than twenty.
“Never have I ever, uhm.” Harry looks around. “Had sex with someone at least ten years older than myself.” Harry drinks then holds the bottle out questioningly.
Louis takes it but doesn’t drink. “I don’t actually know. He was quite a bit older, but I never asked to see his ID or anything.”
“Better drink then, just to make sure.” And Zayn is right of course, so Louis follows his suggestion. “My turn? Or yours?”
Louis shrugs. He’s starting to feel the alcohol. It’s nothing like proper shots, but they are nearing the end of their second bottle.
“I want to get wet, “ Harry says very seriously. He gets up and shrugs out of his shirt. Both Louis and Zayn just sit there and stare at the various tattoos being revealed. Then Harry wriggles out of his skinnies and.
“Shit.” Zayn all but whistles through his teeth.
Harry, the little shit, gives them both a cheeky grin. And almost trips when he has to pull off his shoes before getting rid of his jeans completely. Once stalkers he stands up tall, looking down at them with a challenge in his eyes before he runs towards the pool, cackling like a mad hyena. The loud splash wakes Louis out of his temporary stupor.
He fumbles his own clothes of, shoes first because he knows the pitfalls of skinny jeans.
Zayn is much slower in pealing out of his clothes, so Louis takes it upon himself to place the wine bottles close to the ledge but off by the far side. He even retrieves some floating devices from the little shed, deciding on three pool noodles which he chucks vaguely in Harry’s direction.
When he returns, Zayn is still struggling with the knot on a combat boot.
"Not drunk, eh?"
Zayn flips him off.
Louis just laughs at him before starting the short sprint towards the water, pulling up his knees once he pushes off the ledge and executing a decent cannonball.
The water is pleasantly warm and he surfaces with a big grin on his face. Harry moves closer, using the pool noodle like a swing and gently bobbing up and down.
“You guys always like this?”
“Like what,” Louis asks.
“Dunno,” Harry mumbles, eyes searching out Zayn. “Adventurous. Fun.”
Zayn’s got his clothes off now and gets up unsteadily, heading over at a sedated pace. He sits down on the edge of the pool and lowers himself slowly into the water, hand immediately wrapping around the closest floating device. He hadn’t known how to swim when Louis had met him. They’d practiced, and Zayn had always been a good sport about it, but he’s still cautious to this day.
Or maybe he doesn’t want to get his hair wet.
“Come on,” Louis calls, splashing water in Zayn’s direction. “You aren’t gonna melt.”
“I hate you,” Zayn tells him but there’s a glint in his eyes and Louis knows that look, quickly moves behind Harry, who get’s most of the water in the face that Zayn aims at them.
It all escalates quickly after that, three teams of one because in waterfights it’s every man for himself. But they’re all wet already, so there’s no way of keeping score, and the stalemate is getting them nowhere.
Time to change the rules, Louis thinks and shares a look with Zayn, who nods immediately. They move apart so Harry can't see them both without swiveling his head. Louis jumps, both hands pressing on Harry's shoulder until he gives way and submerges completely.
"Hey," Harry says with a wide smile when he resurfaces. "You guys cheated!"
Louis uses his knees to anchor himself to Harry's narrow waist and slings his arms around his neck loosely. "You lose, you so totally lose Harold, admit it."
"Admit it," Zayn says while moving closer.
Harry's hand slides across Louis' arm and he waits patiently for Zayn to come closer. And then the fucker dunks Zayn, with Louis still on his back. Can't have that, Louis thinks and bites Harry's neck before untangling himself and swimming to the surface.
Instead of a mild chewing out he's expecting, all he gets is a heated look from Harry when he surfaces, hand over his neck.
Louis shows him his teeth in a little smile.
"I guess it's a stalemate," Zayn says with a finality to his voice. Louis has to make himself break eye contact and look over. Zayn is wading over to the wine bottle, grabbing for a pool noodle on the way. He looks at the bottle with furrowed brows and tips the rest into his mouth. Then he exchanges it for the full one and makes his way back over.
They pass the wine around while their heartbeats return to normal.
"We're so classy now. Look at us. Breaking into the pool with wine." Zayn slings his arm around Louis before he continues. "We've come a long way."
Louis nods solemnly and snags to bottle from him, chuffed when he notices Harry's focus on his throat.
"You guys did this often?"
"During the summer, yeah. S'not everywhere in England where you have a heated pool nearby."
"And how often did you get caught?"
Zayn screws his face up in thought. "Like, three times?"
Louis nods. "They built this higher fence because of us. Thankfully they included the emergency buzzer. That makes it easier."
They end up floating on their backs, pool noodles under their lower backs to keep them from sinking. Their heads are close together, hands clasped in a circle. They must make the oddest three-leafed clover ever. There isn't much talking because their ears are mostly submerged and the sky is full of stars, bright and amazing this far away from the next big city.
Louis gets the wine and wades over to Zayn, standing next to where he’s still floating on his back. He taps Zayn's chin and just gets a questioningly look in response. Louis rolls his eyes, mimes opening his mouth. When Zayn complies, Louis slowly, very slowly pours some wine into Zayn's mouth.
He turns to Harry, who's drifted off while he was focused on Zayn. He taps his chin, too, and Harry's mouth opens immediately, like it's the most natural response. Louis swallows hard. Harry's stretched lips are only slightly distracting but it's enough to spill some over his chin and neck.
Harry swallows and pierces him with a stare, tilts his head back. "Better clean it up then."
And Louis doesn't need to be told twice. He licks Harry's adams apple and closes his lips around the skin of his neck. He sucks the wine off gently, then switches to much harder little sucks that pull Harry's skin into his mouth. He rolls it over his teeth, nibbling and twisting and using every other trick he knows to leave a proper mark.
Harry is silent throughout the whole thing, the only sign that he's actually affected the simple yet beautiful fact that he's getting hard, which Louis can just about make out from the corner of his eye.
Louis gives the skin another pinch with his teeth, then licks along Harry's jaw and chin for the last of the sticky wine. He hovers over Harry's lips until Harry lets out a heart wrenching groan and pulls his face down. Their lips crash together and teeth clink but neither cares because the next moment Harry groans into his mouth and Louis sort of loses it, wants Harry against something hard that allows Louis to push into him, not the water under Harry's back, the floating device not enough to keep him up even when Louis holds him, too.
He takes his frustration out on Harry instead, grabs his hair with one hand and pushes his tongue into Harry's mouth. When Harry tries to get up, Louis growls "stay" into his mouth and tightens his grip further. The groan that escapes Harry's throat has Louis' dick twitching.
Nearby, a light flares to life. It's coming from the pathway leading down from the school. All three of them stand up, staring at each other with wide eyes. It's Zayn who moves first, wades to the edge as quickly and as quietly as he can. They grab their things hurridly, dripping water everywhere and probably being far too loud.
"Hello?" The voice is coming from the path above and Louis shoos the boys with frantic hand gestures.
"Where's the second wine bottle," Zayn hisses.
"What?"
Zayn holds up the wine bottle clutched in his hand and throws up two fingers with the other.
Oh shit, he had--he'd been pouring some wine into Harry's mouth and then the kissing had started and--shit. Did he honestly just drop it in the pool?
"Leave it," Louis says, grabs his clothes and shoes, then hightails it out, the boys hot on his heels.
They close the gate behind them quietly but the sound still reverberates in the dark silence and they get another ‘hello?’ for their troubles. It's much closer now, the person almost close enough to see them.
They don't wait around but take the path heading down to the sports field in a hurry. Louis is positive he steps on every sharp stone one the way down, wishes he would have the time to just slip into his shoes.
But they don't dare stop and the picture they must make has to be priceless; three wet, completely naked guys with their clothing clutched to their chest staggering over the path, free arm stretched out for balance. They aren't really running, their bare feet not letting them, and it makes their movements even more ridiculous.
They reach the sports field and squeeze behind the little building there, around the back to the loose part in the mesh fence. Harry is laughing now, trying to hold it in with little success. Louis can't help but grin.
"Wait!" Zayn says vehemently. "Let's get dressed, you know there's always someone stumbling home drunk from the pub at this hour."
"Yeah, it's us, usually," Louis replies. But he steps into his trousers, wishing he'd worn some trackies instead of skinny jeans which are an absolute bitch to get up his wet legs. Harry is having the same problem, only he's shaking so much from not-laughing he's making almost no progress at all. Zayn, who'd come up with this grand idea just slumps forward until his forehead rests on Harry's back. He picks up one of his own feet, holds it with both hands to look at the bottom. "I have rocks embedded in the rocks embedded in my soles."
Louis swats him with his half wet shirt before sliding it over his head. It's clingy and uncomfortable. And the cool night air has him shivering within moments.
They make it to the path, their clothes half wet and sticky. Louis soaked jeans are rubbing the inside of his thighs raw.
"There's chafing happening. Right now, as we speak."
Harry looks at him and tries to adjust his jeans as well. "I liked being naked more."
Zayn doesn't look much more comfortable but be snorts regardless. "No you wouldn't. Trust me. There's rambling roses here, vicious thorns on them."
Louis claps him on the shoulder, discomfort temporarily forgotten. "I almost forgot about that. We'd just moved in, right?"
Zan grimaces. "Yeah."
Harry looks at them, expectantly. "What happened?"
"Zayn here had a bit of an assignation with one of the girls up at the school."
Harry pulls a face and Zayn bristles. "She was one year younger than me, jeez Styles. I don't make a habit of hooking up with teenage girls anymore."
Louis waits a moment longer to judge Zayn's reaction but apparently he doesn't mind Harry knowing the entire story. "Anyway, he got caught--ah shall we say in the act. So he had to get out of there rather quickly. Left all of his clothing behind."
"The headmistress was running after me in a robe. You'd have high-tailed it out of there as well."
"Yeah. Only turns out he got caught in some shrubbery, thorns all up the back of his legs and on his bum. They caught him like that."
"They called the fucking police on me! Fucking defensive plants."
Harry's eyes widen but Louis just nods. “Got a call in the middle of the night and was told to pick up my flatmate. When I arrived, they had him in one of those holding cells and someone had even given him a towel. Which he could only use to cover his dick because, yeah, thorns."
"They'd called a medic but since there was another emergency I wasn't high on the list of priorities. Couldn't sit either, could I?"
Louis nods, walking backwards now to better observe both their reactions. "He had to stand with a towel clutched to his dick for two hours. Found him just like that."
"What happened?"
Louis shrugs. "Drove him to the hospital, like the good friend I am."
Zayn punches his arm. "You chewed me out in the waiting room."
Louis waves his hand. "Yeah, for bloody getting caught. I've told you, rule number one is ‘never get caught’. Also told you I was proud of you, didn't I?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"He still gets an invite each year to the police station’s annual christmas dinner. They were quite smitten with him."
Harry grins, shaking his head. "You two are insane."
"You don't sound put out by that," Louis observes.
Harry shrugs, casual like anything. "That's because I'm not."
They arrive home soon after and he finds Harry some dry clothes, before rifling through the mess on his floor, hoping to find something else that doesn't need to be washed. He finds some ratty old shorts and a fresh shirt in Zayn's wardrobe eventually.
Louis stops short when he comes into the living room, where Zayn has put on a movie.
"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but why are you only wearing a headscarf?"
Harry looks down at himself, to where he's parked his naked butt on their couch. He just shrugs, which so isn't an answer.
"Apparently, he likes it," Zayn says from the other side. "He's a bit weird, if you ask me."
"Hey," Harry drawls slowly. "It's very freeing, you know?"
Louis throws the bundle of clothes in Harry's lap. "Unless there's sex involved, you're gonna wear some trousers in this house."
Harry sighs, like Louis is the one being weird.
###
The sun is slanting into his room at an angle that indicates it's not even noon.
Louis flinches from the brightness and buries further under the covers. He doesn't bother holding back the groan. It's far too early. They’d closed the bar at three the night before,but he'd decided to stay behind and finally restock the fridges. They still hadn't gotten to it since the delivery last week, and usually it would be the girls' job during the day shift. But he knows it's not like they're sitting around, twiddling their thumbs. Anyway, they were running low on Heineken. Someone had to do it, so Louis had. But he also only locked up at half past four, and by the time he'd actually been in bed it had been almost five. So yeah, he wants to sleep.
But try as he might, it won't help, his bladder won't let him, forces him to get up and head for the loo.
There are muffled voices coming from the laundry room and he goes to investigate the source once he's done. If it's burglars, they can just take whatever they want as long as he's allowed to go back to his room, close the blinds, and sleep.
His eyebrows shoot up when he finds Harry and Niall, both only wearing tiny boxer briefs, bent over the washing machine, quietly discussing the settings. Apparently delicates are not easily defined.
"I'm telling you, we just need to put it on a normal cycle, Niall. Your spiderman undies are not delicates. And we need to reach a certain heat level here, there are towels in there as well."
Niall shrugs. "Then we take them out."
"That's not. Never mind. Look, have I ever fucked up your clothes before? No. So I need you to--oh. Uhm. Hi Louis."
Louis jerks out of his little trance and nods at them like he hasn't been standing there, ogling them in their pants. Not that either has an arse to speak of. "Domestic dispute?"
Harry adjusts the dial and hits start before Niall can interfere. Niall shoves him, but it's nothing serious.
Warmth shoots through Louis' chest, and he isn't even sure why. He likes seeing them here, doing something as mundane as washing their clothes. He doesn't know WHY he likes it, but if life taught him anything, it's that it’s okay to not understand all the feelings he experiences. Sometimes it's just good to ride the wave and enjoy himself.
"Uhm. Zayn said it's okay if we used the washing machine." Harry looks genuinely distraught, like Louis might actually kick them out on their flat little arses. "Is that okay?"
"Tea."
Niall laughs at that, but it's pretty softly and doesn't grate on Louis' nerves.
"Should I make you one? Which kind to you want," Harry asks.
He fixes Harry with a suspicious glare. Tea making is not to be taken lightly. "Can make my own tea," he mumbles.
Niall shrugs and points a thumb in Harry's direction. "He really likes doing that stuff."
Harry is just standing there, tall and tattooed and tanned, in his underwear, nodding his head furiously. God, the things he could do to this boy.
They head to the kitchen and Louis seriously thinks about asking them to come up to his room, close the blinds and just cuddle and maybe sleep a bit more. But that would probably be weird, it's not like they know each other that well. If it were Zayn, Louis’d totally make him do it. Hell, Zayn would be the one still sleeping and Louis could just crawl into his bed, snuggle up without Zayn bitching about being the little spoon. But Zayn is out, checking out a new supplier with El the town over. They never take Louis to meetings that start before noon anymore, not since what happened last time. He doesn't really mind; he likes sleeping in.
He watches Niall fall straight into a chair in the kitchen, while Harry gets the kettle boiling. He should probably offer them shirts or something, but he'd really do himself a disservice, so he forgoes being a good host. Anyway, they practically broke in, they don't even deserve shirts.
Also, where Harry is tall and tan, Niall is small and wiry, almost like Louis himself. Only he's clearly been working out for several years. His muscles aren't overly defined or bulky, but it still feels nice when Louis sits down and rests his head against Niall's shoulder.
Niall immediately goes to rub his back.
"You can stay," he tells him, patting his knee. "I like you."
"What about me?" Harry wants to know.
Louis doesn't even open his eyes. "That depends on the quality of my tea. I want black tea, with milk and sugar."
"But sugar will rot your teeth, you should start drinking it without. Or maybe switch to a natural sweetener."
"Niall," Louis moans. "Make him shut up."
Niall doesn't, instead Harry starts pouting and busies himself with the preparations.
Instead of cuddling in bed, they end up cuddling in front of the telly. Louis is lying curled up, with a lovely set of Niall and Harry bookends. His head is in Niall's lap and Harry is rubbing his feet. Harry can definitely stay as well.
He's not even sure what they're watching, some cooking show Harry seems really into, when the front door opens. There's a loud bump, then Zayn swearing.
"Clean up your shoes, Louis. Once! Just once, and I'll consider it a miracle."
Niall shoots Harry a concerned look, so Louis pats his knee again. Niall has boney knees, no wonder most of his jeans have holes in them.
"I mean is it really so hard to pick up--oh, didn't know we had company." Zayn says, coming around the couch. "Uhm, why are you both only wearing pants?"
Harry doesn't really answer, but Niall's slight blush is sort of delectable. Louis throws the back of his hand against his brow dramatically. "They're eye candy, of course! So I don't get bored. And if we had grapes, they'd be feeding me them."
"Right," Zayn mutters. "Shouldn't have asked." He squeezes in next to Niall, which cramps Louis' position somewhat. He doesn't mind as much once Zayn starts stroking his hair. "What're you watching?"
"Some cooking show," Louis says, pulling Zayn's hand towards the back of his head, ‘cause that's where he wants to be stroked now.
"The only reason you even know where the kitchen is, is for the tea."
When Zayn had joined them on the couch, Louis’d had to scrunch himself up, pull his knees up to his chest to make room. His feet are still in Harry's lap, but it's a new position, and Harry doesn't seem to be doing as much foot rubbing as he had before. Louis makes an unhappy sound and pushes his toes closer to Harry's abs, hoping to get the point across. "Yeah, so?," he asks Zayn while wiggling his toes.
Harry makes a sudden, jerky movement and grabs both Louis’ ankles, pushing them towards Harry’s knees. Louis smirks, because he just felt something stirring in those lovely black boxer briefs Harry is wearing. He groans loudly, obnoxiously, and moves onto his back, which breaks Harry's death grip. He stretches and accidentally on purpose lets one foot slip.
Harry yelps and pushes it forward again, earning confused looks from Niall and Zayn, as well as a smirk from Louis. The light blush staining his cheeks makes it all the better.
Fun. This is exactly what he needs right now.
Louis decides that breaking Harry's grip isn't really important, instead he digs his toes into the toned thigh muscles there. Harry manages a straight face for almost a second before pushing Louis' legs off completely.
"I'll just put the washing in the dryer," he mumbles during his hasty retreat. Louis considers going after him, maybe crowding him up against the washing machine, but decides against it. He can totally be patient if he wants to, can totally play the long game here.
Two seconds later, he's up. Who is he kidding, he's got three gorgeous guys in his house, and one of them is sporting a semi right now. Instant gratification shouldn't be overlooked.
"Anyone want some more tea?"
Zayn and Niall both shake their heads, Niall using Harry's absence to change the channel. It's a reality show, and by the looks of it, Zayn shares that particular obsession with Niall. They haven't moved apart, even though they're only using one fourth of the couch right now. Zayn's hand which had been buried in Louis' hair is now resting on Niall's thigh in place of Louis’ head, like they've both forgotten it's there.
Louis smirks to himself, while heading for the laundry room.
Harry is just transferring the rest of the clothes to the dryer when Louis softly closes the door and steps up behind him. He has to stand on tip toes to look over Harry’s shoulder, but it's worth it when he reaches past, adjusts the settings and Harry shivers when Louis' arm brushes his side.
"So," Louis murmurs. He places both hands on the edge of the dryer and feels it come to life when the programme starts. He's effectively caging Harry in, plus he's also at his back. For most people, this would be an uncomfortable position, a vulnerable one. But he doesn't think Harry's shallow breathing stems from any sort of discomfort. If he’s reading this correctly, it's anticipation and a hint of arousal. "Niall and Zayn are watching some shitty reality show. Guess it's just us."
Harry opens his mouth and starts to turn around. Whatever he's about to say, no doubt some sort of innuendo, the little flirt, dies on his lips when Louis grabs Harry's hips, stopping his movement. The grip isn't painful but it's hard enough to suggest that Louis isn't asking him to stay facing forward, he's telling.
"Ah ah." He clicks his tongue, then digs his fingers in until Harry shivers. "Stay put," he whispers in Harry's ear, feels the slight shudder run up Harry’s spine. Harry catches on quickly, nods his head while biting down on his lower lip.
One hand slides from Harry's hip to his belly, fingers sliding along the slight grooves of Harry's abs. Harry is gorgeous, and he knows it. He clearly also takes pride in his appearance. But Louis doesn't want the flirty boy from the pub the other day. He wants to see where this will go, if Harry likes to play as much as Louis thinks he does. As a kid, Louis had always been the one to dive into pools at the deep end, just to see if he could reach the bottom. This is no different, except for how it's a hell of a lot more exciting.
His fingers slide lower, playing along the edge of Harry's pants, one fingertip dipping under the elastic waistband. Harry's mouth falls open, his eyes squeeze shut and it's beautiful to watch, especially when a slight blush settles high on Harry's cheeks and he swallows repeatedly.
"Did you, uhm--," Harry breaks off to clear his throat and lick his lips. Otherwise, he's not moving and his eyes are still closed. Louis waits him out. "Did you lock the door?"
And there it is, Louis thinks, leaning his forehead against Harry's shoulder and smiling to himself. He lightly scratches his nails across Harry's skin and shakes his head. "No."
Harry gulps and nods.
"That a problem," Louis muses while drawing random figures with his fingers, making sure to gently drag his nails over the sensitive skin on the side of Harry’s hips. "That someone might walk in?"
Harry clamps his mouth shut, but not before a low moan escapes. And it's hot, it's sexy, but it's not what Louis wants. He slides his hand up, fingertips ghosting over a nipple and getting a stuttered indrawn breath. He moves higher, past throat and chin, until he's outlining those gorgeous lips.
He taps them twice. "Don't hold it in. Want to hear you."
"Fuck," Harry breathes and that's more like it. "Is this really happening?"
Louis returns his hand to Harry's belly but doesn't tease. "Do you want it to?"
"Fuck yeah."
"Well then," Louis says and slides his hand underneath the waistband to squeeze Harry's dick.
Harry whines, high in his throat and pushes his hips back, hand reaching back to grab at Louis, pull him in tight.
Louis stops touching him immediately, and when Harry doesn't let go, he removes his hand completely.
"What," Harry asks breathlessly, peeking over his shoulder. "Come on. Want to." They're still testing the waters of course, but either Harry is misbehaving purposefully, or he's far less experienced than Louis thought at first.
"Hands flat on the dryer," Louis says calmly.
"'Kay." Harry shoots him a quick look over his shoulder before doing as he's told. The new position has him leaning forward slightly, arse sticking out.
Louis moves back in close. He pushes Harry's pants down his legs until they pool around his ankles but doesn't tell him to step out of them. He won’t be needing the extra movement, anyway. Harry stays motionless, just bites his bottom lip and steals glances every now and then.
Louis licks his hand to get it wet, then reaches around and gives him a good squeeze. This time, Harry lets out a gorgeous groan. He still rolls his hips, but he's no longer rubbing against Louis, so he lets him. Louis pulls his foreskin back, then twists his wrist slightly to increase the pressure on the head before starting to wank him in earnest.
It works, and Harry's stance wobbles and his biceps strain, holding more of his weight. "Fuck," he slurs, head hanging low.
Louis can't help himself, has to steal a look around Harry’s side. Harry isn't particularly small, and while he might not like it himself, Louis’ hands sort of are. The combination of those two facts is rather gorgeous though.
"Look at that," he says. Harry follows his line of sight and swears creatively. "Looks good, yeah?"
"Yeah," Harry mumbles.
Louis lets them both look for a couple of strokes before twisting his wrist on every upward stroke, increasing the pressure.
Harry's mouth falls open and he pushes his bum back again, only to whine and rut up into Louis' fist.
"Want something to grind against?"
Harry sucks back spit that's dangerously close of overflowing and dribbling out of his mouth. He nods frantically. "Yeah, yeah. Yes." There's a beat of silence, then, "please?"
Louis rewards him immediately, stepping forward and pressing his clothed erection against Harry's bum, who immediately starts grinding against him.
He's pretty sure at this point that Harry has no real idea of what they're actually doing here. Harry is clearly not inexperienced when it comes to sex, but the way be phrased the ‘please’ as a question makes it clear that he never had to properly beg for it before. Apart from that, he's following Louis' instructions well, and he's picking up the rules rather quickly. Louis has never seen anyone so naturally attuned to subbing, not that he's complaining. It's not really a big deal, just that today they'll have to stay in the vanilla end of the D/s pool, which was pretty clear to start with because he hasn't asked Harry his safeword yet. If Harry even has one. So the next time they do this--if there is a next time--they'll have to have a little chat beforehand.
Harry's initial grinding has dwindled, now he's mostly pushing forward into Louis' hand, looking for his release.
Louis slackens his grip, wonders if Harry will get it without being told.
Harry whines in frustration and Louis tries not to laugh. It's not like he isn't turned on beyond belief himself, rock hard in his joggers, nestled rather comfortably between Harry's arse cheeks.
Harry pushes back against him then, rubs his bum against Louis hard on. Louis immediately tightens his grip again. See, he thinks, I'm basically spelling it out for you.
Harry looks at him again, seems to need the reassurance even if he has to twist his upper body to do so, even when Louis makes sure to only present him with a neutral expression. Then he stops moving his hips. This time, he doesn't make a sound when Louis slackens his grip. Like he was expecting it.
Louis smiles to himself. So, he's testing the waters, is he? Louis already wants to praise him, wants to call him a good boy. Louis doesn't just want Harry's animal side during sex; he wants more from him. Animals can fuck, and a lot of humans do, too. Now, there's nothing wrong with that, it's an integral part of sex, but for Louis it has a time and a place. And this, this comes before. He wants to engage Harry's mind, doesn't just want him to mindlessly follow his body’s needs. Preferably, he wants Harry to lose himself, slip into subspace. What Louis wants doesn't happen during uncontrolled fucking. Quite the opposite. It happens with the help of control, even when the experience itself is freeing.
And seemingly, Harry is a natural, because he really starts moving his hips then, grinding against Louis' erection, making sure to have it slide up and down the crease of his bum. He's panting when Louis picks up the pace and pressure on Harry’s dick, but what's even more beautiful is the full body shiver when Louis finally tells him, "good boy."
Harry is really working for his hand job, probably more than he's ever had to in his entire life. Louis is pretty sure Harry is using most of his brain capacity right now to circle his hips just so.
So naturally, Louis wants to poke at it, see what happens. "Might want to be quieter, think I just heard someone walk past."
Harry's rhythm falters and it takes him a moment to coordinate his movements again. "Wha--what?"
"It's fine," Louis tells him. "No one really comes in here unless they have to."
"But you could," Harry starts, groaning when Louis cups his balls in his free hand. "Fuck. You could just lock the door."
"Now, Harold. Where would be the fun in that?" Louis lets that sink in for a second. He's planning on giving Harry some more mental images, but for now he's enjoying the impact of his words; the embarrassed flush, the round, wide eyes and the near constant whine.
Harry has adjusted pretty quickly and he's pressing back against Louis like before. He really is a quick learner, and the possible avenues to explore with someone so naturally gifted are sort of overwhelming.
Louis gathers his thoughts, focuses on the now.
"But can you imagine what they would see, when someone accidentally walks in here?" He leans closer to Harry's ear, almost whispers the next words. "See you bent over the dryer, rutting back against my cock, like you're gagging for it."
And shit, Harry's reaction is sort of wild, his hips stutter before resuming their movement more forcefully. There's a constant stream of ‘fuck fuck fuck’ coming from him now and Louis can't wait to find out if it's the exhibition kink that gets him this hot, or the dirty talk.
He brings one hand to Harry's arse cheek, digging his fingers in. Then he allows himself a few bruising thrusts, almost comes himself when Harry lets out a soft shout when the head of Louis' cock, still covered by his jogging bottoms, snags against Harry's hole.
Fuck, this boy is driving him to the brink, simply by rubbing against him.
"Think I'd let them watch," he tells Harry, who is frantic now, completely gone. "Maybe lube you up, get out my cock and let them watch as I push into you. Let everyone see how easily you'd take it, how much you love it."
Even though it's the end goal, Louis is still somewhat surprised when Harry comes, freezing up before slowing down. Louis strokes him through it, lets him come down slowly, until Harry has almost completely stopped pushing into his fist, and he's mostly just holding Harry's half hard dick. Not that he minds. Harry has a lovely dick.
Harry grabs his wrist and pulls him off then, and again, Louis lets it slide, just how he doesn't say anything when Harry twists around, looking at him with wide, dazed eyes, not really seeing.
Louis smiles, because unless he's very much mistaken, he's got Harry exactly where he wants him. "You under," he asks anyway.
Harry just frowns at him, and Louis should have seen that one coming a mile away. So what, Harry is sort of distracting like this, sue him.
Harry remains silent, just looks down Louis' body. In one continuous movement, he falls onto his knees, fingers hooking under the edge of Louis' joggers and freeing his leaking cock. It all happens so fast, Louis only realises his intention when Harry licks his lips.
"Harry," he says, gripping his hair and holding him back. "It's fine. You don't have to, not now." He's not really sure why he's saying this, because his dick would definitely like to be sucked right now.
"Want to," Harry mumbles, words so slurred Louis can hardly make them out. He leans forward but Louis doesn't release the grip in his hair. Harry just moans, and pulls harder. Figures. Because of course Harry bloody Styles also has a bit of a pain kink. Harry looks up at him with desperate eyes. "Please. Please let me. Have to. Have to feel you."
This time, it's Louis who groans, and he lets up on Harry's hair, though he leaves his hand buried in the mess of curls.
Harry doesn't tease, just takes him in deep and groans. The vibrations are wonderful, but the blissful expression on Harry's face, simply from having Louis' dick in his mouth, is sort of overwhelming.
This will be the shortest blowjob in history.
Once Harry starts moving, all bets are off. And okay, so Louis might have previously entertained the thought of Harry on his knees, mainly because Harry's lips sort of invite that train of thought. That first night, he'd wanted nothing more than to take this boy with the gorgeous smile and the green eyes out back, let him drop to his knees like he is now, and suck him off. So yes, he's thought about this. And usually, imagination is better than real life, it's just a fact.
The problem is, though, that he was completely wrong. Harry isn't just good at this, Harry is fucking brilliant. He has the perfect balance between suction and friction, brings his hand in to wrap around the base when he busies himself with the head. He doesn't just look obscene, he sounds it, too, making no efforts to quiet the sounds. And then, like it's nothing, he removes his hands, puts them in his lap and pushes down, down, down, until Louis slips right into his throat.
Louis has had a lot of different sexual partners. Hell, he's sort of a slut, and he's okay with that. Still, he can count the amount of people that can deepthroat like that on one hand and have some fingers left over. And Harry does it like it's no big deal, just pushes down until his nose is squashed against Louis pubes, his eyes closed in contentment and still tunelessly humming.
"Hey," Louis says and pulls him back. Harry looks almost offended, but he splutters loudly, too, choking once Louis is completely out. "Can I come down your throat?"
Harry moans, shifts and nods furiously, like he's never heard anything better in his life, like he's desperate for it. "Please," he chokes out, already leaning in again. "Please, please, Please."
And fuck, Louis is only human.
He pulls Harry onto his cock, and presses in. It's easy, and he's thinking about really fucking Harry's face, about holding his head with both hands, or maybe press it against a wall or a table, and then just pushing into him, over and over again, going deep because Harry can take it.
This time when Harry is all the way down and starts humming again, Louis yanks on his curls. "Look at me."
Harry opens his eyes. They're red rimmed and wide, still with that dazed look in them, and Louis holds Harry's head steady, pulls his hips back, maybe halfway, before pushing forward again.
Harry coughs and chokes a bit, but he's making no efforts of pulling away, so instead, Louis pushes in again, and again, until it's just all too much and he's squeezing his eyes shut and coming down Harry's throat.
He gives them both a few minutes to catch their breaths, then grabs a towel from the dirty clothes hamper and wets it under the wash sink. He cleans them up as best he can, Harry shivering at the cold material dragged over his belly.
Louis throws the towel back into the hamper and looks at Harry. "You want to join the others watching telly or you wanna go upstairs? Nap?"
Harry just looks at him, moving his head around slowly and looking at everything with an amazed expression. Right, no decision power there.
"Come on, Harry," he tells him firmly, getting him to his feet. "Time for cuddles in bed, yeah?"
Harry's days are spent trying to hide from the headmistress, which is easier now when more and more people have arrived for the soulmate programme and they're using almost all the tables in the food hall.
After his little swimming pool adventure with Zayn and Louis last week, they'd apparently found a wine bottle in the pool. It had ended in a long speech over lunch about proper conduct and safety. She'd eyed them suspiciously and Harry had mostly distracted himself from squirming by poking Niall.
But ever since then, he's tried to avoid her as much as possible. Now, Harry tries to look inconspicuous while eating his porridge.
A sharp elbow pokes him in the ribs. It fucking hurts. "Ow!"
Niall does it again, just to be an arse. But when Harry looks at him with a deep frown, Niall isn't even looking at him, his attention focused on a guy across the room. "Is that--I mean. Is that Liam Payne?"
Usually, any sports related references fly right over Harry's head but since Payne had been playing for Man U until his injury at the end of last season and Niall's subsequent meltdown, he's well aware of this one.
He squints. "Could be," he says without conviction. "But why would Liam Payne be here? It makes no sense."
Mrs. Blandford rises from her chair, arms extended and a warm smile on her face. "Everyone, if I could have your attention for a moment, please. I'm very proud to introduce to you our newest guest for the summer-- ." The guy reaches her then, an almost shy smile gracing his lips as he takes the headmistress' outstretched hand. And fuck if it isn't-- "my godson, Liam Payne."
Niall's fork clutters on his plate and he starts choking. Harry is patting him on the back and handing him a napkin for the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. His hacking is cut off suddenly when a hand lands on the backrest of the chair opposite them.
Niall looks up. "Hi," he croaks out.
"Hi?"
There's a silence. Harry waves his hand and stops when he realises what he's doing. "Hi," he says instead, which isn't much better.
Payne smiles at him. "Hi."
They all just look at each other until the tension is so high, Harry imagines he could cut it with his butterknife. Payne clears his throat. "Is this seat taken?"
Niall just looks at him, completely flabbergasted, blotchy red from the coughing and with a tear spilling out over one cheek. "Nnngh."
Payne's smile becomes a bit more strained.
"No it's not," Harry tells him quickly. "Please, sit down."
He nods and does, inspecting the food before him. His eyes light up and Harry sees his tongue through the wide smile, which is horribly endearing. "Porridge? My favourite!"
Niall just makes a choked off sound, crosses his arms on the table and lets his head drop onto them heavily.
Payne's smile turns unsure. He has a very expressive smile. "Uhm."
"He's fine," Harry assures him. He rubs Niall's back gently and mouths to Payne, "he's a fan."
"I'm Liam," Payne--no Liam, that will take some getting used to--tells them.
"I'm Harry. And this here is Niall."
"Good to meet you," Liam says politely. He really has the kindest smile Harry has ever seen. He also has the best biceps Harry has ever seen, but that's neither here nor there. "Are you here for the soulmeets or as new teachers?"
"Soulmeets," Harry tells him. "Don't think anyone should trust us with the education of their children."
"I'm sure you'd be very good at it," Liam tells them. "I'm here for the soulmeets as well, though if I'm lucky I get to teach a bit of football. We'll see what my physical therapist says about my knee."
"I've had knee surgery, too," Niall blurts out.
Harry frowns at him, wonders if he's ever seen him this nervous and decides that yes, they once stole cookies from their neighbour’s porch where they were set to cool. Once confronted, Niall immediately said they were guilty, then complimented her on her mad cookie making skills. They'd been fourteen.
"I have a scar," Niall says.
"Hey, so do I! Still hurts like a--still hurts a lot, but at least they were able to sort out the torn ligament."
Niall nods, hanging off Liam's every word. To his credit, Liam doesn't seem too bothered by it, just keeps asking Niall easy questions that slowly build up his self confidence again. Harry thinks Liam isn't so bad.
The conversation turns to football, no surprise there, so Harry gets his phone out and opens a new chat to Louis.
So youre into footie yea?
it only takes a moment for the response
thats a dumb question of course
Well, then you'll be really excited to come visit. Liam Payne is currently sitting opposite me, he's having the porridge. It's his favourite.
There's no response for a minute. Harry decides to clarify.
He's here for the soulmeets.
Again, there's no response for a long time. Then-
I'm really glad you walked into my life, Harold. Not just because of Payne. Also because you're really pretty. And you have dimples. We should set a date for Zayn and me to come visit, you did invite us. Tomorrow? Today??
Harry grins. Sure. Why don't you come by after lunch say two o'clock?
Louis doesn't answer for a good minute or two and Harry is about to pack his phone away, when another text arrives.
is it two yet?
I'm getting jealous over here.
He isn't really, but it's important to remind Louis, he feels. After what happened in the laundry room the other day, Louis had been very sweet and caring, but he'd also sat Harry down and explained calmly that he didn't do relationships. Not without a bond. It's hardly a foreign concept. Harry doesn't care. He wants to keep having sex with Louis because--well, because it's exciting. It's new to him and he likes it, wants to explore it further. Louis started something that day, a process inside of Harry he wants to know more about. And he wants that with Louis, doesn't need a relationship.
aww Hazza. Don't worry ! I can multitask like no ones business !
:(
Are you making your pouty face right now?
Harry quickly schools his features. No.
Pity. Turns me on. Gets me thinking about all the wonderful things your pretty lips can do.
Are you flirting with me?
...you're very lucky you're so pretty.
Hey.
Gotta go now love some of us have to work
He's pretty sure the bar doesn't open at this time of day, but he sends a smiley face and the waving hand emoji before stowing his phone away.
"Dude, it's Payne. Payne!"
It’s been a long time since Zayn has seen Louis this starstruck, and he's dragging Zayn along, because he always makes people share in his pain. Or happiness. Or--whatever this is.
And Zayn doesn't even care for football, not really. He can appreciate a good looking player, but when it comes to tactics and transfers and penalty points, he's happy to leave that stuff to Louis.
They're heading for the school, dressed up slightly because Louis had apparently lost all his cool when Harry told him he'd be meeting Payne. Louis is quite possibly wearing jeggings and okay, he's got the legs for it, and arse, too, but still. He made Zayn change his outfit twice because apparently it hadn't been up to par for meeting the almighty Payne. So now Zayn is wearing his darkest jeans and a white tank top. Louis keeps pulling it down to expose the wings tattoo, because Louis is a bit mental. To be spiteful and also because they're meeting some footie star Louis is crushing on, Zayn refused to do his hair, instead slapping a beanie on and glaring at Louis when he made a face.
If he's honest, he's just looking forward to seeing Niall and Harry again, maybe nick some hydrangeas for his garden from the school grounds. Not that he isn't completely supporting his best friends little fangirl moments. It's nice to see Louis so enthusiastic about trivial stuff.
"D'you think he'll be nice? What am I saying, it's Payne, he'll be brilliant. Just like that corner penalty in the ninety-third minutes that lead to them winning 2-1 against Arsenal. That was bloody brilliant, remember?"
Zayn makes a noncommittal sound and takes a mental note to get some more neon green spray paint, he's running low on that, same with hot pink. Maybe he can slip into the Arts 'n Crafts shop on the way home. He should probably set himself a reminder, he's so going to forget this.
They've taken the long way around, because Louis dropped something off for Eleanor and then they were half way, already. It's the more popular way, though, so they stop whenever another local wants a quick chat.
The tourists are easy to spot, not only by their clothes and cameras, but by the dazed look in their eye. Lockerbie really makes an effort to appear like an enchanted little rural town, with low brick walls, ancient trees and overgrown, precisely maintained cottages.
They walk past the pond which is a short way off the village center and features several picnic tables and benches along its shore. There are some ducks gliding over the smooth surface, a pair followed by at least ten ducklings. Two years ago William Thatcher, owner of the local pharmacy, had held an impassioned speech at a town meeting on how ducks attracted tourists. Someone had gone out and bought four of them. Apparently, the ducks really liked it here and they've been multiplying like crazy, breeding like mad and shitting all over the place. The tourists love them, though and it's become quite the spot for photos featured in travel guides.
Zayn doesn't get it, but people are usually odd like that.
The village square, usually full with farmers markets on the weekend, only has a single stall today. They stop for a quick lemonade, the kids greeting them happily.
He smirks when he sees Louis rolling on the balls of his feet. "You don't really need the sugar, do you?"
Louis looks chagrined for a moment. "It's just. It's Payne!"
"So you keep telling me."
They wave at Wilmar and Claire across the square. Both of them are Thursday night pub regulars and Claire, even though she's pushing sixty, keeps flirting with him while Wilmar looks on fondly and tips well after. Zayn raises and eyebrow and smirks at them.
"Enjoying the sun?" he calls out.
"Same as you," Claire says back and grabs her husband's hand. It's sickeningly sweet and he loves every bit of it.
Louis elbows him hard. "Ow, what the fuck mate?"
"Stop smirking." Louis hisses. He's squinting at the nearby coffee shop, where two girls, maybe nineteen, have just emerged. They aren't from around here and they keep staring. "Or we'll have an entourage."
"You over exaggerate the power of my smile," Zayn tells him. He glances at the girls and they giggle. Oops.
"Not your smile," Louis says. He turns and walks backwards in front of him, poking his cheek. "Your smirk. Only one side of your mouth goes up. It's lethal."
Zayn rolls his eyes but slings an arm around Louis anyway, just in case he's right. Then he squeezes Louis' bum for good measure. He doesn't want to accidentally send out the wrong signals. And according to Louis, he does that a lot. "Thanks for looking out for me. I love you, too."
Louis laughs and grabs his hand, slings it over his shoulder and entwines their fingers. The low hum running through him is comforting, and he brushes off the annoyed sounds from the girls, just pulls Louis closer.
He doesn't let go until they reach the school grounds and run across Paul, who is apparently helping out with the grounds again this year. They hug warmly in greeting.
"Are you even allowed here," he asks, squinting at them. "Last time I checked, you were banned."
"We're invited," Louis tells him all mock affronted.
"Yeah?" Paul looks them up and down. "Who invited you? Have they ever met the two of you?"
After a short chat to catch up--apparently Paul had another kid recently--and making Paul promise to come by the pub for a pint, they let him get back to work.
"Better not let Mrs. Blandford catch you here, invite or not," Paul yells after them. Louis flips him off with a grin.
The path widens, the shrubs around them getting smaller, turning into rose bushes. Before they can enter the school through the huge front doors, Harry comes running at them, arms flailing in greeting.
"Are you wearing heeled boots?" It's the first thing that pops out of his mouth, even before saying hello.
Harry falters, like he'd been thinking something else entirely and it takes his mind a moment to catch up. He looks down his own legs, eyes brightening. "Oh yeah, they're new. You can borrow them, if you want."
"It's ah--that's fine, thanks."
Harry shrugs. Then he watches Louis pull Zayn's shirt down. Zayn smacks his hand away. "What the fuck is wrong with you? It's like you're pimping me out, it's making me uncomfortable."
Louis just looks at his beanie and sighs. "Well I don't know what Payne is into. You've got the bad boy thing down, just make sure the tattoos are showing. And look at my outfit. I'm twinkier than I was when I actually was a twink. Do you think he'll like either, Harry?"
Harry looks about as confused as Zayn feels. "I--what?"
Louis looks at him, from top to bottom before adjusting the blue bandana Harry has tied loosely around his neck. "You should join us. You look like such a hipster. We'll make a perfect set."
"Perfect set for what?" Zayn asks after a beat.
Louis sighs, like they're annoying him on purpose, which is rather rich. "Okay, so I've had a crush on Payne for like, what? Five years now?" Louis is looking at him with the kind of expression that expects an answer. Zayn just shrugs. Louis sighs dramatically. "Right. And he's here now. There's no way I'm going to not shag him. But I don't know what he likes. And I'm not above a threesome."
"So you are pimping me out! Bro, that's just wrong."
Louis slaps his chest, hard. It stings and Zayn rubs it, frowning at Louis who just wags a finger at him. "You promised not to use that word anymore."
Harry clears his throat then, looking between the two apprehensively. Zayn can relate. Louis is slightly unhinged on his best days, but his manic phases tend to be too much even for Zayn.
"Uhm," Harry tries, still looking a bit dazed. "Okay. I-- okay. Threesome?"
Zayn pats his shoulder, then glares at Louis. "See, you've broken him. And we haven't even had him that long. You always do this, I hate you." Harry is fun and also pretty awesome, so he totally means it. "Where's Niall," he asks, mainly to change the subject.
Louis' face brightens. "And where is bloody Payne?"
Zayn just groans.
###
And because the universe apparently hates him, he finds himself in Harry and Niall's living room about an hour later, alone and bored out of his skull.
Louis and Harry are off doing god knows what. They said they were looking for football superstar and all round perfect human being Payne, but who knows with those two. The sexual tension between them is kind of palpable and Louis has never been one for patience. They just need to get it out of their system.
Niall on the other hand never showed and Zayn is kind of miffed. He doesn't mind being alone, but usually he's drawing or working in the garden. And he can't do either here. Even snooping through Harry and Niall's stuff hadn't been satisfying. There's nothing incriminating, apart from a few see-through tops, which aren't really all that incriminating if you've known Harry for five minutes.
Zayn pouts and flops down in an armchair. The living room has three of them. Who needs that many armchairs, anyway? And why didn't he bring a joint, he could kick himself right now.
So he just sits there, one ankle on the other knee and stares at nothing. He's not brooding, no matter how often Louis tries to convince him otherwise. Eventually though, his stomach grumbles and really, it's as good a reason as any to get out of here. And his earlier search here only revealed one six-pack of beer stashed away in the closet. But this is a school and hotel in one, and there has to be something close by, right? Like a kitchen or something. Even a vending machine will do.
He heads down the hallway and finds mainly locked doors. There are some random classrooms converted to meeting rooms by the simple expenditure of plonking a huge table in the center and scattering office chairs around. He's heard that some big firms hold their business retreats here, because of the charming town (the ducks are on the prospects, he's seen them), and hiking opportunities nearby. God, big city people and their obsession with exercise, honestly.
That point is proven when the next door reveals a little gym, barbells off in one corner, a treadmill and something that looks like a medieval torture device in the other. There's a guy perched on it in gym shorts and a tank top that looks all kinds of indecent with the way it's sticking to his sweaty torso. His knee is wrapped in one of those flexible brace thingies. Zayn has no idea what they're called; he's never had a sport related injury in his life, thank god. Meticulously avoiding physical activity has its advantages, after all.
He's sitting up straight, pulling down an iron bar, which lifts a bunch of weights behind him. Zayn swallows, suddenly not at all sure if the machine is meant to be torturing the guy or him, judging by the way his biceps flex and Zayn feels sort of faint all of a sudden.
The guy smiles, all warm brown eyes and pretty pink mouth. "Hi," he says cheerfully.
And that's Zayn's soulmark, the little tattoo-like mark he's been born with. It's on the inside of his thigh of all places but that's it, that's the one he got. Not a sentence, nothing unique. Just a hi. He scans the guys skin for a hint of what to reply with, because he really, really wouldn't mind this being his soulmate. There are a few tattoos visible, blocky arrows and an entire cursive sentence Zayn can't make out. It could be his soulmark, could be a random tattoo. Something long then. He'll say something long and pray he gets it right.
"Hi," he says instead in a faint voice. He's such an idiot, why does he even bother? Louis is right, he needs to get out more, socialise and shit.
He must look like a deer caught in headlights because the guy gets up and comes over, grabbing a towel on the way to wipe the sweat from his face. It's still glistening on his shoulders though, and Zayn keeps staring at the muscles there. He's biting his lip so hard it actually hurts and it takes conscious effort to unclench his teeth. He doesn't even care, wants to touch the guy and see if they spark, everything else seems irrelevant right now.
"Are you all right?"
There's a confused little smile on his face, one that's three quarters concussed puppy and one quarter let's fuck up against that wall. Zayn tries not to stare, really, but that tank top is sticking to his abs in a really interesting way. He's not sure if he wants to lift it up and lick the skin underneath or leave the material where it is and get his sketchbook and pencil. Both, if he's honest. That train of thought is responsible for the next thing out of his mouth.
"Do you model," he hears himself asking. And why? Why is he asking that?
The guy makes a helpless little hand movement at Zayn's face. "Are you really asking me about modelling?"
Zayn shakes his head because god, the last thing he wants is to look like he's fishing for compliments. "No I mean live modelling. Like for figure drawing. Art classes and such."
The guy just looks even more lost. "No?"
This conversation sucks. This is what happens when people are more interested in your looks than in what you have to say. You get no practice and end up producing this disaster. Where's Louis when you need him, Zayn thinks. Louis always knows how to break the ice. Granted, it's generally with a sledgehammer, but it gets the job done.
Zayn tries to gather the remains of his dignity. He just wants to leave, lick his wounds in peace but at the same time, he really wants to touch this guy. If they spark, he'd probably die on the spot, but he'd die happy. "Well, you should. You'd be gorgeous to draw."
That earns him a smile, at least. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." He steps back to make some room. "Could you point me to the kitchen? Or just anywhere with food?"
"Um. Yeah, sure. Come on, I'll take you."
Twenty minutes later, Zayn is sitting with his feet dangling from a counter in a small kitchenette.
They've demolished several blueberry muffins as well as some tea. Right now, Liam is making a smoothie from the fruits they found. Someone named Shaun will be really angry when he finds the empty package with his name on.
"I can't believe you would say that!"
Zayn shrugs. "Superman is tight."
"Oh god, what happened to this conversation?"
Zayn chuckles. "Sorry. I mean, not really, but you know. My roommate--he's also my best mate, Louis, is a bad influence."
Liam plops another handful of washed grapes into the blender. "You've been living here long then?"
"Moved here first chance we got, even attended some courses at the University over in the next town. And then we got our hands on the most amazing place, you should come see it some time. University didn't pan out for either of us." He steals a few of the grapes and pops them in his mouth. "Now we tend bar and enjoy the place, mostly. Do whatever we want. It's a good set up. How'd you end up here?"
Liam points to his knee. "Got an injury that needs to heal. My aunt is the headmistress and she pulled some strings. Now she's having me attend soulmeets while I heal up."
He looks at the last few grapes and places them in Zayn's palm. Their fingers brush. There's a moment, just the tiniest second that something like happiness settles in Zayn, because there is a spark. But that moment fades, when the feeling doesn't intensify, just remains that weak little current he gets with Louis as well.
Before either can comment, the door flies open. It's Louis and Harry, Louis supporting the larger boy, who's hanging off of him with a contented little smile, flushed and happy. It takes exactly one glance from Liam to Zayn for Louis to go batshit crazy. He drags Zayn off the counter in the next second, grapes flying everywhere. Louis pushes him in the direction of the door, standing between Liam and him like a guard dog ready to attack. Liam's expression is pinched, eyes fixed on Louis.
And Zayn is just so confused, because what now? He touches Louis' shoulder gently. "What's going on, Louis?"
"This is your best mate Louis?" Liam asks and something ugly has crept into his voice. "I met him earlier, can't say I agree with your assessment of his character."
Louis bares his teeth. "You're nothing as advertised, either. Do me a favour and stay away from Zayn."
"I'm sure Zayn can decide for himself," Liam retorts.
Louis won't look at him, his eyes fixed on Liam, so Zayn squeezes his shoulder. "We were just talking, what's wrong with you?"
"Shut up." Louis doesn't mean it in the 'I forbid you to speak' kind of way. He's a dickhead when he wants to be, but Zayn knows what he actually means is 'I'll explain later'
Liam's doesn't know that, of course and his frown deepens. "Don't tell him to shut up."
Louis sneers. "Don't tell me what to do."
They're standing in each others space now, feet almost touching. Zayn just looks at Harry but he doesn't look like Harry at all. Gone is the smiling, easy going guy. This one is flushed, his eyes blown and glassy, focussed solely on Louis. He looks completely out of it, almost drunk but not quite.
Right. No intelligent life there. Zayn has so had enough of this.
He squeezes between them, back pressed to Liam's chest, facing Louis. "We're leaving. You need to cool off."
"Yeah? How about bloody Payne, homophobe extraordinaire over here gets a punch first."
Zayn spins around. "You're bloody - I mean Liam Payne? The football player? And why are you a homophobe?" He turns back around. "Why is he a homophobe?”
"Saw me kissing Harry, didn't he? Freaked right the fuck out, told us to keep that sort of behaviour behind closed doors."
"Hey!" Liam shouts, trying to move around Zayn. He stops him with a hand to the middle of his chest. "You weren't just kissing. You had--he had--. There were kids there."
Louis snorts. He's trembling with unspent energy, glaring at Liam for all he's worth. It's been quite some time since he's seen Louis like this, all riled up with energy, his narrowed eyes screaming for a fight. He'd gotten into a lot of trouble when they were teenagers, Zayn should know because he'd been there for most of it. And Louis never really cared if the other guy was bigger or meaner.
They'd been out once, and this guy who'd probably been twice the size of them combined had made a slur about Zayn's pretty lips and what he'd use them for and Louis had gone off his rocker, punched him right in the face and kicked him in the balls too. He wasn't a good fighter, really, but both Louis and Zayn were small and fast and they'd always managed to run away from any real danger. But they'd been younger then, and Zayn likes to delude himself that they've managed to grow up in the meantime.
"There were no kids, I made sure. Also, it's the bloody holidays you numbnut."
Liam throws his hands up. "Anyone could have walked in, just like I did. Just a random kid from--I don't know. That's not the point."
"We would've heard them."
This time, it's Liam who snorts. "Doubt you would have, since you were kinda busy."
"Busy?" Zayn asks suspiciously. He looks around. Smugness has crept into Louis' expression and Harry is. Well, Harry is apparently trying to hunch in on himself, like he's hiding. It's really not working.
"He had him," Liam points at Harry who is still doing the whole disappearing act, "sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall and-."
"And?" Zayn has a pretty good idea, but he needs to hear it because he can't really believe Louis would be that stupid. Seems he won't be getting it from Liam, who has turned a lovely shade of puce and can't seem to hold eye contact anymore. "Louis?"
He regrets it almost immediately when Louis gets a dangerous glint in his eyes. For the first time since storming in here, his voice goes soft, gentle. "Tell them, Hazza."
There's a moment of confusion and then Harry's deep, steady voice cuts through the silence. "I was giving Louis a blowjob."
Zayn's jaw drops open for a moment.
Louis nods and finally turns away, focussing all his energy on Harry. Harry squirms visibly but keeps looking at him anyway. Again, Louis gentle tone is almost jarring after the near shouting match moments before. "And what else?"
"You were gripping my hair, so I couldn't pull away."
"Did you try?"
Harry shakes his head violently, curls flying. He glances to Zayn and Liam for a split second before his focus goes back to Louis. "No, I wasn't, I wouldn't."
And okay, Louis is going for shock value here, trying to unsettle Liam further. It's not like Zayn isn't accustomed to this side of him, but Harry's reaction to it is unsettling even him, even if the subject matter itself isn't. It's not like a blind man couldn't have seen the attraction between them from the start. And Louis goes for what he wants. What he's wanted for the past couple of days was into Harry Styles' pants. Apparently, he'd succeeded, only they don't seem to be playing by conventional rules.
Louis closes the distance between them and cups Harry's face, murmuring until the tension leaves Harry's shoulders. It's--well, it's sort of cute how Harry clings to him immediately, hanging off of every word Louis says.
"What if kids had walked in on them?" Liam says, but his voice is hushed now, like he's watching their interaction closely as well.
"We would have heard them. Heard you, didn't we?" Louis says nonchalantly, poking Harry's cheek until he smiles and a dimple appears under his finger. He pokes it again. "We saw you, too. Well I did. Harry was busy."
"Then why didn't you stop?" It's his own voice forming the question and Zayn can't even remember when he decided to ask.
Louis shrugs and entwines his fingers with Harry's. "Harry likes it."
"Being caught?" Liam squeaks.
Louis sighs and looks at him steadily. "No. Well, that, too. But mainly it's about having an audience."
And he doesn't even want to know how Louis knows all of this. They've known Harry for a couple of days and unless Zayn missed something, Louis hasn't been alone with Harry for more than an hour or two. He sighs deeply. Maybe it's time for him to go. He hears Antarctica is lovely this time of year. Lots of ice and penguins. Or is it polar bears there? He always mixes them up. Or he could take a relaxing holiday to Fiji, just lounge around in the sun and draw the pool boy or something. Anything. Anywhere. Just not here.
"Why me, then?" Liam asks quietly.
"'S got nothing to do with you. You were just--there. Convenient."
Liam is turning red-faced again, but this time it's in anger. And all of a sudden, Zayn has had enough of it all. He grabs Liam by fisting the front of his shirt and pushing him bodily out the door. He's not deluding himself; if Liam didn't want to move, Zayn probably couldn't have made him. But he seems like a nice guy, one that stands up for what he believes in, will not avoid a fight but one who, in the end, won't go looking for it, either.
"I'm sorry I--," what exactly do you say in a situation like this. "Sorry, Liam."
Zayn closes the door in Liam’s face. Right. No time to think about that now.
Louis and Harry are still standing there, holding hands like the most dysfunctional couple ever.
Zayn gathers all his confusion and anger and levels it at Louis. At least Louis can handle it. Harry still looks like a soft breeze might knock him over. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"With me?" Louis sounds surprised. "Absolutely nothing."
"You can't do that, Louis. You can't pull others down that self-destructive path of yours."
Louis' eyes blaze. "I am not pulling anyone."
Zayn just motions to Harry with an expression of ‘and what the fuck is this then?’. "That's not what you said earlier."
Louis frowns, before comprehension dawns. "I was pulling his hair, you idiot."
Zayn snorts. "Don't you dare get all literal with me when it suits you. You were guiding him."
Louis smirks, all dirty and superior. "Wasn't so much guiding as. Hmm. Directing, maybe?"
If Louis thinks shocking him still works he's really fucking stupid. "I'm not talking about the bloody blowjob and you know it. You're acting out like a twelve year old instead of facing your problems and actually doing something about them."
Louis' lips thin. "Fuck you."
Zayn just rolls his eyes. "Nice diversion tactic. It's not working though."
Louis growls under his breath and drags Harry to the door. They leave without another word, storming past Liam who is still standing in the hallway.
Zayn just sighs and pulls at his beanie in frustration. That vacation sounds really good right now.
###
Later that day, or more precisely early the next morning, Louis wakes him by crawling into his bed. He stinks of beer and cigarettes but Zayn still clamps Louis' hand tightly to his chest and pulls him close.
"'M sorry," Louis mumbles into his neck. The way he slurs the words makes it obvious he's even more drunk than Zayn first thought.
"It's not OK, but I forgive you. Even though you're an idiot."
Louis rubs his nose into Zayn's skin. "'M scared."
Zayn's heart clenches. He turns around in Louis grip until they're facing each other, pulls Louis in close and tucks his head under his chin. "Don't. You'll find your soulmate."
"Not much time left."
It's true. Louis' birthday is in December and it's the end of August now. Four more months. Four months until no amount of touching other peoples skin can make Louis feel the spark, no amount of sex can make his soulbond manifest. There are no records of people older than twenty-seven to manifest. It's the cut-off date, it's the deadline they all have.
"Why did you lie to Harry and Niall? About your age, I mean?"
Louis shrugs and wriggles his feet under Zayn's calves. "Don't want them to look at me and get all sad. That'd make it worse."
Zayn kisses his cheek and pulls him closer. There is always so much focus in Louis on making others laugh, on making them uncomfortable, on making them feel cherished. How Louis determines what to dole out is anyone's guess, but in the end, it's always exactly what people need, even if they don't want to acknowledge it. He can read others like an open book and he'll give them what they need, because that's the kind of person he is, and if it hurts him along the way, he'll gladly take the hit. Sure, he can dish out like the best of them, but it's mostly when his pride is hurt or, god forbid, someone insulted anyone he loves. It makes him the best friend in the world, but somehow, also the most fragile one.
Not that he'd ever tell Louis that. He likes his face the way it is, thanks.
But he can make sure Louis doesn't run himself ragged.
They lie there for a moment, both pretending the hiccuping little sounds don't mean Louis' crying, while Zayn rubs his back gently and rocks them both.
Tomorrow, he'll ask Niall if Louis can meet his parents. They have one of the strongest soulbonds he knows of, they will be able to tell where Louis needs to go, where his soulmate is. Louis will hate him for it but. Well Zayn doesn't really care. He can't imagine a life without a happy, slightly manic Louis and if Louis doesn't take a more active approach in finding his soulmate, Zayn will just have to do it for him.
Louis' body stills eventually, the quiet sobs replaced with a thoughtful silence.
"Why'd you rile Liam up so much? He's a good bloke."
"Yeah? Spoke to him did ya?"
Zayn isn't really sure what to make of Louis' tone, so he ignores it completely. "I did. Didn't even know he was Liam Payne. He's really decent, Louis."
Louis pokes him in the chest. "And fit."
"Yeah," he agrees. "He's really fit."
Louis scrambles up, looking down at Zayn while unbuckling his jeans. Louis' mood swings give people whiplash but Zayn loves them, a weird sort of constant he can always rely on. "You want to shag him?"
Zayn thinks back to Liam's wonderful smile, to his almost innocent disposition. And to his rather amazing arms. "Well, yeah. Blow job, at least. Don't think he'll take it up the bum."
Louis rolls his eyes. It's an old argument, one they don't fight verbally anymore. Louis just tells him that, if done correctly, getting dicked is absolutely amazing. Zayn counters with ‘yeah unless you’re tense’ which they both know he would be, for obvious reasons. They've tried once or twice, but Zayn had always chickened out before they got around to the actual fucking. Once was enough for him, thanks.
"I'm pretty sure he will, but it'll take time. He's a bit stuck up on old ideas."
He doesn't doubt Louis, but at the same time has no idea how he knows that. Probably the same way he knew about Harry's sexual kinks.
Louis shrugs and wriggles out of his trousers. "He'll probably freak out after the first time." The trousers go flying, landing where Zayn will trip over them come morning, no doubt. He'll probably break his neck. "If you're fine with it, I'd like to fuck him first."
A disbelieving laugh escapes him. He can't help it. "Are you for real? Not even five hours ago, you were screaming at him. Now you want to fuck him?" Zayn frowns. "I thought you said it'd take time for him to bottom."
Louis peels himself out of his shirt, one of Zayn's actually, and looks down at him. "Baby, you know how when we did it, you stuck your dick in me?"
Wow, Louis sure is a catch. "Yes?"
He leans in, breathing hotly into Zayn's ear. "Doesn't mean you're the one fucking me."
"What are you even saying? It doesn't make any sense."
Louis pushes him until Zayn rolls over, then presses himself against Zayn's back. "Never mind, numbskull. And you didn't answer me yet. Mind if I fuck him first?"
Zayn thinks about it. It should probably bother him, shouldn't it? But it doesn't. "What about Harry?"
Louis stiffens, obviously getting cranky. "What about him? We aren't exclusive. We've talked about it."
"You looked pretty close."
Louis sighs, like he's the only one in the world cursed with dumb friends. "You all have such warped ideas of a relationship, really. We are close, because we have incredibly hot sex together. What we aren't, is dating."
"Oh," Zayn says stupidly.
"So what about Liam then?"
He imagines Louis and Liam. There isn't so much jealousy as--something else he feels. Something that makes his dick twitch in interest. "Don't mind," he mumbles finally.
Louis pats his stomach. "That's good. I probably won't get him to bottom for you anytime soon, but luckily, you're good at sucking dick, too."
"Is this. Is this one of your weird arsed compliments," he wonders.
He feels Louis shrug behind him. "Sure. Did you know Harry has almost no gag reflex?"
"Fuck you," Zayn mumbles. He might not have Harry Styles' cocksucking ability, but he knows he's fucking good at it.
Louis mumbles something and shoves his nose into the fine hair at the back of Zayn's neck. Moments later, he's breathing evenly, already asleep.
Louis is the best friend anyone can wish for. He's also really fucking weird.
September
The beginning of September marks the month of his birthday. Okay, so it also marks the beginning of the school year, but whatever. Niall knows how to prioritise. And his birthday is definitely number one on the list of 'important things to happen this month'.
After breakfast, all the residents and newly arrived students are standing in a more or less orderly line. The headmistress is shooting him a look of death because he just can't keep quiet. He's trying not to laugh, he really is, but it's not humanly possible.
Because Harry's face is priceless.
They're standing on one side of the great hall, everyone living under this roof forming a single line, one end curling in on itself and walking to the other end, touching everyone on the way. It always reminds Niall of the opening at a footie match.
And Harry is basically crapping his pants, sweating profusely because he honestly believes he's going to bond with one of the newly arrived students.
Usually Niall tries to be supportive of Harry's moods, but this is just ridiculous. Harry is gay. Like really, really gay. Like baby unicorn barfing rainbows and pooping glitter gay. Niall has told him so at least a hundred times, but does he listen? No. Instead, Harry loses himself in his own complicated thoughts. In there, everything seems a thousand times worse, judging by the few times he actually tried to explain his thought processes to Niall. Niall had mostly frowned because he knows how Harry can depress himself with his own thoughts and like, Niall can too, probably anyone can. But he's also learned to turn those thoughts off and he's tried to tell Harry to do the same but it never really works.
It bums him out, that he can't really help Harry with it, can't be the friend Harry needs right then. But he vowed to himself to be the best friend in all the other ways, and he thinks that's good enough.
Still, Harry should just listen to him, both their lives would be so much easier.
But of course Harry doesn't. Because Harry's a bloody idiot, someone who gets bothered by what other people think because he has this weird thing where he wants to please everyone. And now he's gotten it into his mind that he's going to bond with one of these young girls and everyone will judge him for the age difference or whatever. He's tense and nervous, flinching every time another hand touches his, like he's doomed to spark with one of them.
Niall doesn't get what the problem is, it's not like there's a reason to be worried. Harry likes guys, not girls. Technically, Niall should probably be the worried one, because he actually does get attracted to girls, has even dated some that didn't have too strict views on sex without a soulspark, which, in a town like Mullingar, hadn't been all that many. The only reason he isn't nervously moving from foot to foot like Harry is that he knows, utterly and completely, neither of them will spark with one of these students. Easy as that.
These girls are sixteen at best, and the way they'd murmured when they'd heard his surname just drove that point home. Anyone who would reduce him to nothing but his name, and, by extension, his status, can't be his soulmate. His soulmate will be someone fun and down to earth, someone he admires and loves. It makes sense. After all, regardless of what kind of relationships two soulmates end up with, there is always a fierce, underlying attraction to it all, be it sexual or not. And it's quite simply a fact that he doesn't feel attracted to anyone who just likes him because he's Niall Horan.
Harry's twitchy behaviour entertains him for another twenty or so handshakes--ok, more like awkward high fives with lingering palms, whatever--but then, even that loses its appeal and it all just turns deadly boring. Hand after hand slaps against his palm and he wished he had just a moment to wipe it on his trousers, to rub away the slight sting.
And honestly, how many kids even are there? Hadn't Mrs. Blandford said something about under two hundred? He's sure he's smiles into at least a thousand faces while touching his palm to theirs.
And he's bored, and being bored makes him hungry, being hungry makes him tired. And being tired makes him cranky. So when a particularly busty girl comes up and touches Harry's hand, Niall swipes his finger down Harry's bare arm. A low hum shoots through him and he knows Harry feels it, too.
He'd been a bit stunned when the same thing had happened with both Zayn and Louis the other day. It's like a defective soulspark or something and it had been weird when it happened with Harry. But now that it's happened with two other people Niall doesn't think it's special anymore. Just weird.
He'd told his parents about it when he first met Harry, had thought that this was it, he'd found his soulmate. But his parents had just frowned and held his hand, pulled back and looked at each other in confusion. The strength of their soulbond let them feel the little strings of fate connecting people with their soulmate. When they touched someone's skin, they knew where the line ended, where the soulmate was. And they'd just looked at him, confusion and fear on their faces because apparently, they couldn't read him, got mixed signals and it scared them half to death.
This led to them dragging him all over the country the following year, meeting an 'expert' one day and another powerful couple the next. No one could get a good read on him, just how no one knew what was wrong with him, either. Words like imprecise and calibration had been thrown around until Niall had put his foot down and his parents finally stopped looking for even more exotic hacks.
He'd returned home, taken the bus to Harry's and crawled into his bed. Something had eased in him, a tension he hadn't even noticed before, only its lack alerting him to the immense strain. But Harry's touch had helped and he'd not spoken to his parents for a week.
But Niall doesn't like thinking back to those times, instead he blinks his eyes and focuses them on Harry before him, staring at the girl with apprehension.
Once Harry starts stammering, Niall can't hold it, giggles escaping him at first, quickly turning into outright laughter at Harry's shocked expression. The headmistress is heading over to them, a pinched look on her face and yet Niall still can't make himself stop.
Harry whirls on him. "That was you!" He sounds so indignant, Niall can only laugh louder.
He tries to contain himself, turns to his other side and meets Liam's little lopsided smile. And god, that's Liam Payne, someone he's followed obsessively for year and he can't quite believe he's actually real, or standing next to him, looking all confused. They've talked a lot since Liam's arrival and his little crush had only expanded when Liam had turned out to be a really decent guy.
He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "It's Harry. I'll tell you later."
Liam nods slowly. "I'd like that."
Niall is holding up the queue, so Liam grabs his hand to hold it out for the next girl. Another low key hum shoots through Niall and he thinks it's Harry at first, and that this is payback.
Only when he glances around, Harry is trying to placate the headmistress.
Niall looks at Liam. Liam's mouth is hanging open.
What the fuck?
Niall reaches out and touches Liam again. Sure enough, there's another little jolt.
"Are you...I mean are we...?"
"No." Niall says and he doesn't know if he's sad about it or not. "I have the same thing with Harry. Never manifested."
"Oh."
This is weird, right? Niall doesn't like weird, not this kind. He doesn't like puzzles, either.
"We can totally try though. See if it manifests, I mean. You're proper fit, mate."
Liam smiles but there's an edge to it. "I'm straight."
Niall snorts. "Okay."
Not even five minutes later they're on their way back to their quarters and Harry is talking his ear off.
"But what do you think it means?"
The thing is, Harry had apparently felt the same jolt with Liam. The poor guy had just stuck around long enough to complete the line, then fled the scene.
"No idea," Niall says. He doesn't. And since it's not a soulbond, he doesn't much care either. Maybe it's something they ate as children, maybe it's just their collective imagination. Whatever it is, it's not changing anything. Niall doesn't quite understand Harry's obsession with understanding why.
"I love you, mate. But you're weird."
"Hey." Harry's low pitched, slow offended drawl is funny. He sounds mortally offended while at the same time can't seem to muster up more energy.
Someone shouts from behind them. "Hey--uhm."
It's one of the many girls they'd shaken hands with just now. She looks flustered. Maybe she's lost.
"The school's dormitories are in the other wing," Niall tells her. "You're not supposed to be here."
"Oh erm. Yeah. I know, thanks." She comes to a stop before them. "I actually wanted to--."
She looks from one to the other, as though sizing them up.
Harry takes a step forward and touches her shoulder lightly. "Are you okay?"
He frowns at Harry. Why wouldn't she be okay? He peers at her more closely. And yeah, she might look a bit frazzled. Distraught even. It always takes him so much longer to pick up on strangers' cues. Harry is good at it.
"You got this, mate?" He turns on the heel of his foot.
Harry stares at him. "No," he all but squeaks.
"Actually--," the girl takes a step closer to him. "I wanted to talk to you."
"To me? Why?"
She shrugs, her brown mass of hair shifting on her shoulders. "I met your parents at a function once. They were nice."
"Er. Okay? But like, Harry here is real good with all the talking stuff.”
She crosses her arms. "Well I just felt the fucking soulspark with another girl. I'll speak to whoever I want, okay." Her voice is shrill and her bottom lip begins to wobble.
Niall smiles at her. "Congratulations!"
Harry claps a hand over his face and groans.
The girl bursts into tears.
###
Tammy Higby.
That is is the girl currently slumped in his sitting room with a bag of Kleenex on her knees. There are tears every once in a while, but mostly she's got herself under control.
"But I really like guys."
"No one says you can't." He thinks about it. "Also, have you seen girls?"
She giggles wetly and blows her nose. Then tears brim in her eyes again.
"Look," Niall says on a sigh. "You're what, eighteen?"
"Fifteen."
Well shit. Good thing he never had to judge the age of consent before.
"Fifteen, right." Niall moves a paperweight around--heavy bugger, but then, who needs a paperweight? "So you have another eleven years before you need to--you know. Do it. No one is telling you to jump into the sack with her right this minute, are they?"
Tammy shakes her head.
"Where's the problem, then?"
She pulls out another Kleenex and methodically rips it to tiny pieces. She doesn't look at him. "Well because. I mean. Eventually I'd have to, erm. Jump in the sack. With her."
"Yeah?"
They stare at each other. Niall scratches his head.
"But I like guys!"
Niall snorts. "Yeah, for now."
She just stares at him, stunned.
"Look, sexuality is like--," fuck, what does Harry always say? "Like a fluid thing. It changes over time, once going more in the one direction, then in the other. Like the tide."
She looks confused. "The tide?"
"The tide. You know, the ocean. I don't know, maybe it's not the best metaphor." He picks up a letter opener. Who even uses these, when it's so satisfying to tear the envelope? But it's part of his living room, so he pats it and puts it back on the table. "The point is, you have found your soulmate. For you, the pressure is off. No soulmeets, no worrying and no parents telling you that you can go off and do your own thing but once you're twenty-six and still without a mate, they'll take matters into their own hands and your life will just cease and they will travel the world with you while you shake everyone's hand because they don't want to see you wither." Well. Good thing he got that off his chest.
"I guess," she mumbles.
Niall pulls his thoughts away from his own family and concentrates. On the matter at hand. Because he's a grown up. "Basically, you pulled the golden ticket. If you want to be with boys then, you know, be with them."
She seems to be thinking about it. As with everything in life, there are firm believers that having sex with anyone but your soulmate makes you a rank person. In a society with soulmates, these people naturally make up the majority. Everything is fun and games, until you bond. After that, you better keep it in your pants for anyone but your soulmate.
Niall doesn't like black and white views.
"My aunt and her soulmate are the best of friends, but they aren't together together. He has a woman he hooks up with and my aunt, well she's sort of asexual. It works for them." He looks at Tammy, whose tears have mostly dried up by now. "You're a bright young girl. You'll find a way to make it work."
She get's another tissue and winds it around her fingers thoughtfully. "But how?"
"Well that's the easy part, isn't it?" Niall leans back in his chair and crosses his arms behind his head. "You talk to your mate."
They're silent for a long moment and Niall doesn't interrupt. He rather likes the idea of a dramatic silence after his last statement.
Eventually Tammy looks up at him and smiles shyly. "You're really good at this, you know that?"
"I am?"
She nods. "You just sit there and--don't judge. And you don't try to like, commiserate or worse hug. You just listen."
Niall thinks about it. Then he nods. "Must be a natural.”
It's only nine, but in Liam's eyes this soulmeet is a bust.
The strongest couple here isn't really all that strong, only ranked 31st in Britain. Seeing their confused little looks when they shook his hand, Liam isn't surprised.
"Your soulmate is close. Sort of," they'd told him. Which, not really helpful at all and he'd be more irritated if he heard this for the first time. Only that's not the case.
He'd smiled and thanked them, moving away so the queue behind him keeps moving. Maybe someone else will have better luck.
After that, he'd just looked around for a friendly face, someone to talk to. He could practically hear his parents in his head, telling him that's exactly what not to do at these function. The sole purpose is to come into contact with people you haven’t met before.
For whatever reason, he keeps running into Zayn, who keep sending him apologetic looks before ducking out of sight of another gaggle of teen girls. It's his own fault, Liam thinks. These events aren't officially black tie, but everyone does make an effort. He even saw Louis in a well cut suit. Granted, the lunatic had been sprinting to the buffet table at the time, cackling madly at whatever Niall kept repeating, wild hand gestures and all. So he might be slightly insane, but at least he's mostly blending in. Unlike Zayn, who is wearing another tank top under his leather jacket. The armholes are so incredibly loose that he keeps flashing a nipple. Liam has no doubt that without his stunning looks, Zayn would look like the town drunk who'd stumbled into a soulmeet by accident. But he does have that perfect jawline, those doe-like eyes and rather fantastic hair. No wonder he has to keep dodging a teenage mob.
A pretty brunette, Danielle, stops him for a brief chat. She addresses him by his name straight away, no beating around the bush and Liam appreciated that. She's also not being very subtle in her advances, going so far as slipping her phone number, scribbled on a napkin of all things, into his breast pocket. Naturally they shook hands at first, it is customary and after all, kind of the point. There had been absolutely nothing, so Liam was planning to throw the number away once he was in private.
Suddenly, Louis is in front of him, suit so tight in the middle it accentuates curves no man should have. He stands on tip toes to look over Liam's shoulder, bringing his eyes back to Liam with a winning smile.
"Dance with me?"
Liam wants to say no, wants to demand why but he's too polite to say no, even though he really should. Usually his politeness doesn't get him into trouble, in fact he's pretty sure it's what kept him out of it during his wilder phases at school. After all, no one ever blamed him. Today, it seems, is the day it finally gets him into trouble, because he nods without even meaning to. There's a few fumbled moments of confusion when both go in for the lead. Louis sighs rather obnoxiously and places his hand in Liam's, muttering unflattering phrases under his breath.
"Get us to the other side of the dancefloor," he hisses urgently while going back on tiptoes to look at something over Liam's shoulder again.
Liam frowns and looks around. His aunt is heading towards then and he smiles at her politely. It turns into a frown when he receives a hard kick to his shin.
"Oww. What the fuck? What's wrong with you?"
Louis jerks his head. "Other side of the room. God, it's like talking to a five year old, honestly."
Whatever. He's obviously insane. If Liam remembers correctly, you should always indulge them, so he slowly leads them across the dancefloor, weaving their way through the other couples.
Louis' hand falls from his shoulder and seconds later he feels it against his chest, sliding towards his inner jacket pocket, pulled back as fast as it had appeared.
Liam's eyebrows knit together. "What did you just put in my pocket?"
Louis smiles at him winningly. When he's not being an arsehole, he can be really nice. It's so confusing. "If you promise not to peek at it until I retrieve it, I promise to share it with you."
"Please tell me it's nothing illegal."
Louis rolls his eyes. "Of course it's not. I've just made myself persona no grata here. They'd throw me out for wearing mismatched socks, never mind something illegal."
For some reason, that makes Liam think of pasta and cheese gratin. "Persona non what?"
Louis looks angry for a moment, like he's sure Liam is taking the mickey. Then his expression softens.
"Means I'm on everyone's shit list," he says through a grin. Someone taps Liam on the shoulder.
It's Paul, who, in addition to his work on the grounds, also makes sure these meetings run smoothly. He's also the entirety of what they would call the school's security.
"We'll need you to turn out your pockets, Louis."
Louis takes a step back, sizing Paul up. Paul is practically three times the size of him. "Now Paul," he starts with an easy smile. "You know that I know that you have zero authority to ask that of me. So how about we leave it for tonight, and the next time you pop by the Bunch Of Carrots, you'll get a Guinness on the house, how's that sound?"
"Bunch Of Carrots?" Liam asks.
"It's the pub I work at. Trust me, you are happy with that name." He pats Liam's chest and smirks. "It used to be called The Hung, Drawn and Quartered but some boring person changed it before my time. Still have the original sign in the cellar, if you don't believe me."
Liam feels like he's in over his head. "What?"
Louis leans into him, practically whispering into his ear. "I'll show you it, ok?"
Paul interrupts the flirting, for which Liam is eternally grateful. "Look Louis, you know I like you, but apparently someone saw something and I have to check."
Louis looks like he's thinking about it. "Hmm. What will I get for not making a scene?"
"Louis..."
"No, I'm being dead serious here. If I don't get some sort of incentive, I'm going to make the biggest rukkus you've ever seen." He rolls back onto his heels, smiling angelically. "I took theater in school, did you know?"
Paul sighs, quickly checks over his shoulder. "What do you want," he sighs.
"Manual labour."
"Wow, that sounds incredibly dirty, coming from you." When Louis grins at him, Liam flushes because apparently, he'd said that out loud.
Louis turns to Paul. "No, in our garden. Zayn wants a porch thingy. You should build it for him."
"A porch thingy?"
"Do I look like someone who a listens to people prattle on about the garden all day? Like someone who knows anything about power tools?"
Paul sighs but takes a step closer when Liam's aunt comes into view. "Fine, fine, fine, you bloody menace. Now strip."
Louis' eyebrow goes up.
"Not completely you--never mind, just give me your jacket."
Louis does so graciously.
Paul pats it down under the watchful eyes of the headmistress. Then he gestures to Louis' trouser pockets. Louis smirks. "Be my guest."
Paul looks so lost for a moment that Liam almost feels sorry for him. Right up until that moment when Louis grabs HIS hand and shoves it into his front pocket. "You're one squeamish tough guy, Paul." Then he turns to Liam. "Feel anything?"
Liam tries not to blush. He shakes his head, so Louis does the same with the other pocket. Without prompting, Liam turns to Paul and shakes his head. That's how he misses it. When he looks back, Louis has already shoved his hand into his back pocket. Liam's palm is, effectively, cupping Louis' bum.
"Erm."
Louis looks at him over his shoulder. "Anything?"
Mutely, Liam shakes his head. He watches Louis change his hand from one pocket to the other. Louis' hand comes to rest over Liam's, outside of the pocket. Louis squeezes and in turn--Liam squeezes Louis.
God, he's definitely turning red. He hurriedly pulls back his hand. "Nothing! There's nothing."
Louis lets go of his hand, mumbling "well I wouldn't call it nothing."
In the end, and amidst a lot of grumbling from people he's no doubt met--and irritated--before, Louis does not get into any trouble. He rubs it in everyones face though, the fact that he is innocent, repeating sentences like ‘I told ya, didn’t I?’ and ‘no one ever believes me’. During all this, the packet he hid in Liam's jacket burns a hole into his skin.
Figuratively, of course.
They end up on the roof of the old school. It's nothing more than a roped off walkway for maintenance and a hip high wall on the other side. Louis heads straight for it, launches himself on to let his feet dangle over the other side.
Liam's heart races when he sees the long drop beyond. He's not afraid of heights, but Louis' blase way of handling his imminent fall from seven stories up causes a light sheen of sweat to break out on his forehead.
"Are you sure we're allowed to be here?"
Louis turns to him, the movement pushing even more of his body over the edge. Liam wants to pull him back, but doesn't.
"Of course not! I got that key made when I was nineteen. They just haven't changed the locks yet."
He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know, but he asks anyway. "How did you get your hands on the original?"
Louis grins and flicks the end of Liam's nose softly, then uses his shoulder to steady himself while getting up to stand on the wall. "Can't tell you, or I'd have to kill you."
Louis stretches out his arms, like he's walking a tightrope, and Liam's hands fly to his hips to steady him. Well, one hand lands on Louis' hip, the other one more on his bum, not that Liam cares right now, what with being about to witness someone's death if Louis slips. "Can't kill me if you kill yourself, first," he mutters through his teeth while trying to keep up when Louis starts walking.
A gust of wind has Louis wobbling and right. That's enough of that. He pulls him down, deposits him on the safe ground and decidedly does not notice how his body feels when it slides along his own.
Louis pats his chest twice, looks up from underneath his lashes and murmurs, "knew you'd keep me safe."
In a move too fast to track, he snakes his hand inside Liam's jacket and retrieves whatever he hid there. Liam doesn't even want to know anymore, but breathes easier once it's gone.
Louis sits down on the gravel, leaning against the wall he'd just been walking on. He pats the ground next to him. Liam sits down and doesn't even know why.
He finds out what Louis hid anyway. There's the sound of a lighter being flicked and Louis taking a deep breath. Liam wrinkles his nose, the air is suddenly filled with--. "You brought a joint to school?"
"Yup," Louis says while trying not to expel any air from his lungs. He waits a few moments before letting out a deep plume of smoke. "It's the good stuff that Zayn grows. Want some?"
Liam shakes his head and Louis just shrugs.
"Should you be telling me this?"
"You like to pretend you're really stuck up, like you're an upstanding citizen, don't you? Why wouldn't I tell you, anyway?"
"I could rat you out."
Louis laughs around his lungful but manages to keep most in. "But you won't," he says after exhaling.
Liam frowns. He could, he totally could, what the fuck?
Louis just rolls his eyes and takes another inhale. And before Liam knows what's happening, Louis has straddled his lap, arms on his shoulders and pressing his expensive suit into the rough stone behind him.
"Wha--."
Louis uses the chance to lean in and blow the smoke into Liam's mouth. His throat starts itching almost immediately. He coughs up the smoke, his eyes watering. Fuck, this hasn't happened since he was in tenth grade.
"Good," Louis says like this is all completely normal. "Next time, try to keep it in longer."
They repeat it all, minus the coughing and the surprise. Liam isn't at all sure WHY he's letting Louis do this. In the back of his mind there's a tiny voice telling him he wants this, hasn't been baked in years, wants to laugh like he did back then, when nothing mattered only the next breath for another giggle and trying valiantly not to pee himself.
"Good?" Louis asks and his voice is lower than usual, dragging slightly.
Liam closes his eyes and nods, tightens his grip on Louis' hips. When had that happened? "Yeah," he mumbles and tilts his head for another hit.
Louis obliges, lips pressing against Liams more firmly and for much longer than is strictly necessary. Liam exhales and presses their mouths together again, not at all sure why he's kissing Louis, only that he wants to.
Kissing Louis is nice. So naturally, he starts to giggle, has to pull back when he starts wheezing. "So--sorry," he eventually gets out.
Louis doesn't look pissed at all, is giggling slightly himself. "You're such a lightweight," he says while lighting the blunt again.
"I'm the lightweight," Liam asks and laughs some more. To prove his point, he picks Louis up a few inches by the hips before dropping him again.
Louis grabs his jaw and blows the smoke into his mouth. He waits until Liam exhales before rolling his hips lightly. "Like bouncing me in your lap, do you?"
It takes him forever, but when his mind catches on, and once he convinces his dick this is not funtimes, he frowns. "I'm like, one hundred percent straight."
Louis nods, rolling his hips again. Liam's statement might be undermined somewhat by the fact that they're both getting hard. "What a coincidence," Louis slurs, focus more on rubbing maddeningly against him. "I am, in fact, straight as well."
Liam frowns, can't help the little thrust of his hips. "You are not."
Louis laughs and kisses him, proper with tongue this time. It feels. Well, it feels fantastic, if he's honest. And Liam really likes being honest with himself. He drags Louis closer with a hand on the back of his head and next thing, they're making out, tongues tangled and fingers buried in each other's hair. Liam's free hand comes to rest low on Louis' back, under his jacket and just above the curve of his bum. Louis is making these little gasping noises that are driving Liam insane and he presses them together more tightly, like he's afraid Louis will pull back and stop.
He does, eventually, but only to mumble against Liam's lips, "I'm really not."
"Huh?"
Louis does this wonderful thing with his hips again and Liam groans. "I'm really not straight," Louis tells him. Because right, they are having a conversation. They're also hard in their suit trousers and making out on a century old roof, but whatever.
"Will you fuck me?"
Everything comes to a crashing halt. "What?"
Louis rolls his eyes again--he seems to like doing that around Liam. Then he grabs Liam's hand and shoves it down the back of his trousers. At first, Liam thinks Louis wants to convince him by making him feel his bum again and well--it's a firm argument.
But Louis just guides one of Liam's fingers further, between his cheeks until he feels--fuck.
Liam doesn't need Louis' hand for guidance anymore, his finger running along the edge of the butt plug Louis has shoved up inside him. He presses against the base for a moment and Louis flops forward, panting heavily against his neck. "Knew you had it in you."
Liam laughs, can't help the bad comeback. "Think you're the one who has it in him."
Unsurprisingly, there's another eye roll before Louis latches on to his neck. "Gonna fuck me or what?"
Liam circles the plug again with his finger, delighted when Louis shivers against him. Suddenly, he has an unbelievably strong urge to know what colour the plug is, feels like he can't breathe without that knowledge.
"Yeah," he mumbles and unfastens Louis' trousers. "Yeah, wanna see."
"'Kay," Louis says, still slurring his words but helping with the belt. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and vintage t-shirt as well, spreads them on the floor and kneels, shamelessly, arching his back and wriggling his bum.
Liam grabs a handful. "Purple," he mutters. "Suits you."
Louis chokes on a laugh and chucks a condom and a packet of lube back at Liam. "Get it out, get it out. Want something bigger." He rolls his hips again, gorgeous to the point that Liam's jaw hangs open. "Want you inside."
He's never fumbled to unwrap a condom so much in his life, but manages to slide it on eventually. He hisses when he slathers some lube over his cock, tries to keep the movement perfunctory. Which is hard, when Louis is practically mewling, completely naked and on all fours, head hanging low between his arms. He's still doing that thing with his hips, twisting the plug inside him and gasping when it hits just the right spot.
Liam is finally set, lets Louis know with a hand on his arse. He can't help grabbing the flesh between his fingers, pulling him open further to see the plug practically jump from how hard Louis is clenching around it.
"Fuck."
"Yes," Louis says and there's an edge to his tone, like he's had enough teasing and his mood will slip if he doesn't get what he wants, soon. "Now."
Liam nods even though there's no one to see it and gently pulls the plug out, fascinated by how Louis' body clings to it. He looks at it in the dim light, feels himself flush. He's been with a few girls who liked having their butt played with and he'd been more than happy to oblige. On the rare occasions that it involved a plug, he'd always wondered how they could move around with one inside. Only. Only those had been nothing in comparison to this one.
"Fuck," he mumbles and pats Louis's bum absently. "It's fucking huge."
Louis very pointedly looks at Liam's dick. "It's medium sized, you knucklehead. It's smaller than your cock, even."
"Can I just--do you need?"
Louis sighs dramatically. "Yes, you can just push in, no need to stretch me out. That's all taken care of. Now can you please get a move on."
Even though Louis says please, his tone is about as far away from pleading as it can get. Liam's cock jumps anyway, and he grabs Louis by the waist with one hand, pushes the head of his cock between his cheeks with the other. It catches on the rim of his hole and Louis sucks in a sharp breath. Liam doesn't push in though, not yet. Instead he just teases his dick over the same spot a few more times.
"When did you put it in?" There's no answer. "Louis?"
"Hmm? Oh. Before spiking the punch."
Liam laughs, because of course. Then he groans when Louis, apparently fed up with his teasing, reaches behind to hold his dick steady. He begins to push backwards.
It's very clear that Louis knows what he's doing, because within moments Liam is encased by a tight heat, has to screw his eyes shut to keep the visuals of Louis fucking himself back onto his cock out, to keep from coming right there. No doubt Louis would make him keep fucking him, even if Liam came and was far too sensitive for it, until Louis reached his own orgasm.
The little half circles of Louis' hips finally have him all the way inside. "When was that," Liam asks without opening his eyes. He just need to distract himself from not coming.
Louis' voice is breathy and high, "what?"
"When'd you spike the punch?"
"Dunno. Shortly before finding you."
Louis tightens around him and Liam grabs his hips tight enough to bruise. "Stop that. Can't hold back when you do that."
Louis' laugh is plenty derogatory, but mostly out of breath. "No one asked you to, you idiot. I've been waiting for you to fuck me for the last three hundred years."
And okay, so maybe Louis doesn't need time to adjust, judging by his mewlish tone. Liam is more than happy to oblige, pulls out and fucks back in quickly.
There's a second when he wonders if it's too hard, if he hurt Louis, but then a gorgeous moan splits the air, Louis pushing back against him, mumbling ‘yes, yes fucking finally’.
And Liam pulls out and slams back inside, feels the tight grip of Louis' body, of how he clenches around him every once in a while.
It's kind of amazing, is the thing, the sweet tightness and Louis' hot little pants whenever Liam does something particularly good. He tries to repeat those, but Louis is squirming so much on his cock that it's difficult to keep the angle.
He slings his arm around Louis' middle and sits back on his haunches, pulling Louis with him, secure on his cock but sitting on his lap now. He whines when he sinks down even further and grabs for Liam's head behind him. It arches his back wonderfully and fuck. Liam keeps Louis steady, keeps him from moving, instead fucks up into him in hard little jabs that have Louis mewling and scratching at Liam wherever he can reach.
Liam's arm around his middle slips and bumps into Louis' cock. Right. Because he's fucking a guy. And guys have cocks. He wraps his hand around it, pleased that it's rock hard and wet from Louis' precome. He's watched the odd gay porn and while that might be a rather limited experience, he'd come to believe that the guy getting fucked doesn't really keep his boner.
But Louis definitely does, is arching into his hand and clenching his fingers tight in the short hairs at the back of Liam's head. Liam leans back, snaps his hips up, sometimes so hard Louis' knees leave the ground and he's really just balancing on Liam's cock for a split second, thighs stretched wide over Liam's.
It's fucking hot, and Liam repeats it while wanking Louis hard and fast.
Louis comes rather unexpectedly, at least for Liam, and when he does, his body clenches so hard Liam completely loses his rhythm. It's the first time he's buried balls deep in someone's arse while they come and nothing in his entire life has prepared him for the sheer amount of pressure on his dick.
Louis flops forward, Liam too slow to catch him. He slips free and isn't really sure about the protocol here. Does he just shove back in? Deciding that it's not worth his life, which Louis is sure to end if he doesn’t like being fucked once he comes, and that his dick really only needs a few more tugs anyway, he yanks the condom off, spits in his hand and starts wanking.
It really doesn't take long, Louis still panting hard and body glistening with sweat, his face mushed into his jacket on the ground, his thighs spread over Liams, arse up in the air.
Liam can't help but stare at his hole, puffy and red from his cock. He grabs Louis' cheek and thumbs the sore looking skin. Louis whines and Liam pushes his thumb inside, feeling the tight heat, remembering how it felt on his cock.
"Can I--," he's pulling his own cock so hard now, there a slapping sound.
Louis twists his head to look at him but keeps his body where it is, open and unashamed. "What do you want?"
"Come on you?" Liam can hardly form the words, hopes Louis will say yes because he starts coming before he's finished asking.
Louis pushes back on his thumb. "Course, baby." By then Liam is already painting his bum with thick white streaks, groaning while the orgasm rips through him. He's panting hard, still pushing his thumb in and out of Louis because he doesn't seem to mind and because it pulls another strand of come from him.
He drags his cock through the mess he left behind, not sure why but wanting to rub it into Louis' skin regardless.
He stops once it really registers what he's doing. He pulls his thumb out and looks at the mess on Louis' arse, not quite believing what he just did.
"I'm--God, I'm so sorry." He's looking around for a towel or tissue or anything but of course there's nothing here.
Reality comes crashing back in, hard. He just fucked a guy on the roof of a school. What the fuck is wrong with him?
Louis gets up and pulls his pants and trousers on, right over Liam's come still stuck to his skin. Liam flushes in embarrassment. He's sending Louis home like that, with his come drying on his arse under Louis' well-tailored suit.
"What the hell are you sorry for," Louis asks while jumping to get the tight trousers into place. His tone has changed, less challenge in the words, more of a--well, a happy lilt to them. He gets into his shirt and jacket, tries to straighten it. It doesn't help. He still looks freshly fucked.
"I'm so sorry," Liam says and his voice breaks.
Louis stops and crouches next to him, frowning when he sees Liam still sitting there, fully clothed and with his knob out. Louis carefully tucks him back inside and zips him up, patting his bulge gently, almost fondly. Then he grabs Liam's face, forcing eye contact.
"Listen up, you big idiot," he says and somehow, the insult helps, feels normal. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for, what are you even talking about?"
Liam flaps his hand uselessly, then whispers, "came all over you." And that's just the tip of the iceberg, but it's what he can focus on now.
This happened once, with his last girlfriend. She hadn't freaked out, but after showering she'd sat him down and told him how degraded and used it made her feel. There had been a few tears and Liam had sworn to himself that he would never, ever do that again.
Louis just laughs. "Yeah, got me proper dirty."
"I'm sorry," Liam mumbles again, trying to get up. He would promise Louis it would never happen again, same as he'd done with her. But that's unnecessary, because he's just had sex with a guy, and liking it was not enough to repeat it. He has to find his soulmate, marry her and gift his parents with the grandchildren they'd always wanted so desperately.
Louis looks serious now. "Look. There's nothing to be sorry for." He wriggles a bit, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he smirks. "Kinda think it's hot."
Liam chokes, sure he'll actually burst into tears if they keep talking. He gets up, has to steady himself before he remembers how his legs should work. "Sorry."
Louis sighs, starting to get annoyed. Liam hadn't really expected anything less. "Look, I said it's fine, didn't I? I like it. Also if you think a little come on my bum is too much, I'll better not tell you how I sent Harry home the other day. Made him take the long way, too, and told him to have a friendly chat with anyone on the way."
It's probably supposed to calm him, or divert his attention. What it actually does is remind him that he'd just had sex with Louis Tomlinson, a guy, and definitely not his soulmate. He thinks of what his parents would say, his sisters, and shame washes through him. For letting them down, for actually enjoying it. It served absolutely no purpose other than to come. No chance for a soulbond, no chance for kids. It had been selfish.
He shakes his head, feels the angry tears prickling hot in the corner of his eyes. He staggers back the way they came from, ignoring Louis' shouts for him to wait while he frantically collects his shoes and the rest of his stuff.
Liam doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to talk. He just wants to be as far away from here as possible.
"Where's Liam?" Zayn asks.
Louis can see some girls waiting by the buffet table for them to finish talking so they can resume their stalking of Zayn. Louis waves at them cheerfully and watches them blush. Too easy.
Then he looks back at Zayn and sighs. "He bolted, as I thought."
Zayn's eyes go wide. He leans in and Louis can feel his lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "You had sex with him?"
"Yep. Pretty fantastic too. Well I did the prepwork myself, thought he might freak at that, you know. Bums and all that. But the boy knows how to use what he's got. Which is formidable, before you ask."
Zayn grins. "Where? How?"
Louis sighs even though he's secretly grinning. "On the roof. Got him a bit stoned, first."
"You drugged him?"
Louis knows Zayn doesn't mean it like that. Zayn smokes more weed than he does for fucks sake. "I gave him three shotgunned tokes from a blunt that was mixed with tobacco. I didn't secretly slip him some E, calm your fucking tits." He pinches Zayn's nipple, because Zayn is being an idiot.
"Sorry," Zayn mumbles. "Why'd he bolt?"
Louis thinks about it. "Well I thought it would be the gay crisis, you know? But what set it off seems to have been his come on my arse. Think some girl must have really fucked him up about it."
"Well," Zayn says carefully. "Not everyone is quite so much into comeplay as you are."
"It was a little bit of come on my arse, not comeplay!" Zayn turns crimson, and right. Inside voice. "I put my trousers on after he finished rubbing it in with his dick, if you want the details."
Zayn grimaces. "You could have wiped it off, at least."
"With what," Louis challenges. "The butt plug?"
"Louis."
Louis tsks at the tone. "You two will have the most mindblowingly average sex imaginable. It's like you're made for each other."
He knows exactly what he'll do. He'll find Harry and then he'll get them both filthy, have them come so often they come dry. Then he won't let them wash it off and add some more tomorrow. It sounds like a solid plan. And at least Harry isn't a prude.
He finds Harry in a group of people, and watches him for a bit. Harry gesticulates wildly, flashing his dimples at all and sundry and flirting like his life depends on it. Louis grins. It's fun to watch, especially when he's seen a completely other side of Harry.
Turns out, Harry really sucks at telling jokes but the people around him stay anyway. Louis doesn't blame them. There's something magnetic about Harry, something that draws the eyes and keeps them focused. Louis doesn't know what it is, a weird mix of almost childish earnestness, combined with a cheekiness that only works because of Harry's looks. It might be unfair, but it is the truth.
He watches Harry talk to a guy, maybe mid thirties and not bad looking. Harry's whole body language changes, suddenly open and leaning in, huge palm sliding up the guys arm. He's still flirting, but somehow, it's different.
Right. That's just about enough of that.
Louis squeezes through the throng of people and slides up behind Harry. He leans up on his toes, whispers hotly in his ear, "I've got Liam Payne's come drying on my bum. Want to add some more?"
Harry's reaction is as immediate as it is beautiful; he ceases all contact with the other guy and leans back heavily into Louis. His head rolls onto Louis' shoulder and he feels Harry smile into his skin.
"Yes, please."
###
Everyone is on the school's pitch, playing football with Liam Payne. Everyone, even Harry, who, Louis is surprised, can actually walk after their fuck last night. Even Zayn, who doesn't like football or physical activity.
He bends down to stuff his jogging bottoms back inside his socks where they'd slipped out. Then he gets up, pulls his beanie down and grins suggestively at Liam.
"Think I'll get it in?"
It's been almost a week since their little assignation on the roof, but the memory must still be fresh in Liam's mind because he blushes. "Think you generally get what you want," he mutters and claps his gloved hands together, beckoning Louis. It's the first thing he's said to him all week. Louis guesses that's progress.
Liam might be tall, but he's nowhere near as tall as the average goalie. While he manages to reach the top bar without stretching (Louis can't, but whatever), he's still leaving the goal plenty exposed and Louis manages a good, controlled shot in the top right corner that Liam isn't anywhere close to catching.
Liam nods curtly, knowing full well the difficulty of the shot. He might still have an issue with what happened between them but he's enough of a fair player to give praise where praise is due. Louis preens, but only inwardly.
Harry's shot is more hilarious than accurate, sailing far over the goal with little speed, dropping just behind it like a stone. "Oops," he says grinning.
Louis chuffs him under the chin and they watch Zayn kick the ball straight into Liam's hands. Liam rolls the ball back to him. "Do it again. Try to put more force into it for now, worry about aiming later." Zayn does, and it's marginally better than before.
They take a short break, all five of them huddled near the fence, gulping down water and trying to find a place out of the gruelling sun.
"Niall!" They all turn in unison, looking at the girl walking towards them, waving her hand while trying to control her hair with the other.
Louis' eyebrows shoot up. "Who's that, Nialler."
"She's like, fourteen," Zayn puts in.
"Fifteen," Niall tells them.
Liam looks concerned. "Uhm, why do you know that? You really shouldn't know that."
"Because she told me." Niall leans forward, pours some water over the back of his head and lets it drip down his face. He grabs for Harry's towel and pats himself mostly dry before standing back up straight. He looks at them. "What?"
The girl reaches them then. She looks a bit flustered when they all stare at her. "Hi, uhm. Can we talk?"
Niall nods. "Sure Tammy. Can I meet you in a couple of minutes in front of the changing rooms?"
She nods, then smiles brightly. "Yeah, sure." She starts heading in that direction and everyone turns back to Niall.
"That is probably a bad idea," Louis tells him truthfully. The others nod. "We can find you someone your own age."
Niall looks confused. "What?"
"You do know the girls are off limits, right," Zayn asks him.
"Yeah, listen to Zayn. He knows all about that."
Zayn smacks him over the head for that. "I was nineteen."
Niall thinks about it, then turns a furious shade of red. It looks particularly bad with his skin tone. "Jesus Christ," he hisses at them. "I'm not fucking her!"
Liam slumps back against the fence. "Oh thank god."
Niall stares at them, disbelieving. "You're all fucking idiots. She sparked and she wanted to talk to me about it, that's all. She's confused. Now if you'll excuse me," he turns and follows the way she'd left. "And you better all show to my birthday party, you arsehats!"
They return to their friendly game, which consists mostly of Liam giving them all pointers, of Louis trying to get him to speak about what happened between them by riling him up and for Harry and Zayn not to die, Zayn due to the physical exertion and Harry due to breaking his neck.
Niall joins them again shortly, pointedly not speaking to them.
"I think I need a cigarette," Zayn says some time later, huffing while heading to their things and retrieving his pack. Louis heads over to steal a quick drag and the others mill around them soon after, looking for water bottles and handing over towels.
"So," Louis starts. "That was fun. We should do that again."
Zayn wipes his brow, still breathing hard. He's not made for football, but it's still fun to watch. "I'd like it more if everyone just came over and we watch a movie or something."
"Whatever," Niall says. "But you're all coming to my birthday party this weekend at the pub, yeah?"
Louis pats his back. It's sweaty. "Sure, babe. Can I bring a date?"
Harry narrows his eyes. "Who?"
Louis has never been one for passive-aggressive behaviour. Right, time to poke the beehive. "Oh, I was thinking of asking Liam."
"What?" Liam squeaks. "No."
Niall pokes him in the chest. "You're not coming to my birthday party? Why?"
Liam looks panicked now. "No, I'm. Of course I'm coming to your party. Just not as Louis' date."
Now it's Harry's turn to narrow his eyes. "What's wrong with being Louis' date?"
Liam holds up his hands defensively. "Nothing! I'm just. I'm bringing a girl. A girlfriend. My girlfriend."
Zayn freezes. "Girlfriend?" And shit, this is not the direction this should have taken. Zayn clearly has a thing for Liam, and Louis knows, from personal experience, that Zayn is also the jealous type.
"Uhm, yeah. Her name is Danielle. We met at that soulmeet last week."
Harry frowns. "Isn't that when you had sex with Louis?"
There's an awkward silence from all of them, until Niall bursts out, "you had sex with Louis?" They all nod and it's weird, but Niall, happy-go-lucky Niall actually looks angry now. "I thought you were straight! That's why I didn't make a move, what the fuck." He pins Liam with a rather effective glare. "As a birthday present, I only accept blowjobs."
Liam's eyes bug out and Louis snickers.
"But I'm straight."
And okay, he's had enough of this. "Tell that to my arse."
Liam splutters, proper flustered now. "There will be no blowjobs," he says eventually. "Because I have a girlfriend."
"Yeah? Does she know about it."
And maybe he's pushed Liam too far this time, because he actually looks murderous. "Well I think she's at least not opposed to the idea, seeing as we've had sex."
"You had sex with her?" Outwardly, Zayn seems normal, but Louis knows him too well. He's about to crack, and it's probably Louis's fault. Fuck.
"Yes," Liam says defensively.
Zayn throws his towel to the ground and stomps off. Louis shoves Liam hard in the chest, pleased when he takes a stumbling step back. "You don't have to be a fucking dick." He heads after Zayn, who already has quite the head start.
"What did I do?"
Louis ignores him, just tries to catch up to Zayn. All he hears behind him is Niall shouting, "you're still coming to my party, right?"
October
The very first leaves are starting to change their colours and Harry is excited for the new season, even if it means he'll have to get out his winter clothing soon.
The last few weeks have flown by in a haze of soulmeets and evenings spent, just the five of them, at Louis' and Zayn's place, watching movies and generally having a good time.
Right now, Harry is making chicken. It's marmite chicken, which is sort of disgusting, but according to Zayn, it's one of Louis' favourites. And Harry will try everything once.
The place had been empty, so he'd let himself in, finding Zayn at the far end of the garden in his little art studio. He'd had colour on his cheek which Harry had found sort of adorable, in a very sexy kind of way. Or in a very Zayn kind of way, whatever.
He'd gone back up to the kitchen and turned on the oven, letting it preheat. Before preparing the chicken he'd removed his soft jumper, and his jeans, too, just to be sure. From there it had been easy to get rid of his pants and shirt as well, no particular reason other that he enjoyed being naked. It's freeing, clears his head. And it's not like the others haven't caught on to his little habit.
That's how he ended up with only an apron on now, something he has to compromise on. He might like walking around stalkers, but that's no reason to burn his dick with oil splatters while glazing onions.
He leans down, placing the prepared chicken into the oven and closes the door, checking the heat setting and adjusting the timer. The apron has come loose again where it's tied at his back and he reaches behind himself to make another knot.
He starts clearing away the dishes and utensils he used to prepare the food, cleaning some right away while piling the rest in the dishwasher. It's full, so he adds the powder and starts the cleaning cycle, straightening his back and looking around with satisfaction.
Just a bit more cleaning and--.
Louis is leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and eyes trained on the spot where Harry's naked arse had been moments before.
"I--hi," he tries, suddenly nervous under Louis' intent stare. He doesn't really get shy about being naked anymore, one of the reasons why be actually started walking around without clothes in the first place. Especially not in front of Louis, who has pretty much seen it all. Still, his heart hammers in his chest, like he's done something forbidden.
It's the way Louis is looking at him, standing there in his kitchen and probably his apron too, that has Harry unbalanced.
"You know," Louis begins. He pushes himself off and slowly walks towards him. "I am pretty sure we have a rule here." He leans against the kitchen counter, eyes still fixed on Harry.
And Harry doesn't know where this is going, not really, all he has is a burning desire to find out.
He smirks and hopes his lip doesn't wobble. "Oh?"
Louis nods, slow, and reaches out to trail his finger down the front of the apron. "Yes." He pulls his hand back again, ceasing all contact and Harry almost whines, almost, just manages to cover it up, unlike the helpless step he takes in Louis' direction. "No being naked unless you're having sex."
And that's a stupid rule, probably the worst Harry's ever heard. "I seem to recall you telling me something along those lines," he says, because Louis had.
Louis raises an eyebrow challengingly. "And yet here you are, naked, and not having sex.”
He crowds against Louis and smirks down at him. "Was hoping you'd say that," he drawls before sinking to his knees.
There’s a new art gallery opening in the next town over and Zayn had invited them all. Everyone—well everyone sane—had opted out, which means that Zayn and Harry have taken the car and are now looking at pictures hanging on walls while Liam, Niall and Louis are in an elaborate and epic Mario Kart battle.
Louis is winning, because he’s good at this and because Niall is almost falling asleep after the second joint and Liam gets so competitive he’s overanalysing every move.
He’s winning, until his phone rings.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Liam asks, leaning far to the left, like that would magically transfer onto the screen. Louis rolls his eyes. Amateur.
“And let you win just because I’m distracted? I think you know me better than that.”
Liam just shrugs and eventually, the ringing stops.
Only it starts up again midway through the last round. Liam has caught up, the fucker, and Louis almost crashes when the sound of the ringtone startles him. He elbows Liam in the side, just to level the playing field, and concentrates on winning again.
He does, and gets up for his customary victory dance which has Niall twitching awake in shock, kicking out reflexively and connecting with Liam’s shin.
Liam sucks in a loud breath in that weird way he has while waiting for the pain to subside, while Niall comes awake completely. He starts apologising almost immediately.
And the goddamn phone is still ringing.
“What?” Louis barks when he picks it up, still hopping from foot to foot and pumping his free fist in the air.
“—I’m sorry!” Niall almost shouts, blue eyes wide and apologetic. “Do you need like, an ice pack? Should I call a doctor? Louis hang up and call an ambulance.”
Liam just holds his leg, letting out a loud, low 'ngh' sound, because Liam is seriously weird. Loveable, but weird.
“—uhm?” comes the tiny voice from the phone.
“Hazza! You’re interrupting my victory dance, can you call back later?”
He almost hangs up but Harry anxious whisper stops him. “I can’t do this.”
Louis stops dancing and frowns, concern rushing through him. “Can’t do what?”
Niall get’s up and stumbles towards the kitchen while Liam takes the first real breath since getting hit.
“This! With Zayn. It’s a disaster.” Louis frowns. His best friend is delightful and he doesn’t much appreciate people bashing him. Not even Harry. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Louis asks after a confused beat.
“Go out with him,” Harry nearly shouts, even though he’s clearly trying to keep his voice low. It echoes weirdly.
“Are you in the toilets?”
There’s a beat of silence, “Don’t you fucking judge me, Louis. Tell me how to handle this.”
Louis doesn’t, mainly because he’s too busy laughing at the image of Harry, dressed up all hipster in his boots with heels and his see-through blouse unbuttoned to expose the moth and his one dangling earring and the scarf in his hair (it took him twenty minutes to get it just right) sitting in a booth of a fancy toilet at an art gallery, hyperventilating while whispering into a phone.
“You’re such an arsehole, I hate you,” Harry hisses. He’s quiet for a moment, probably waiting for someone to leave the bathroom again.
Louis uses the time to cackle some more.
“Tell me what to do,” Harry says again in a loud whisper. Louis stops grinning then, because Harry actually sounds close to breaking. He likes teasing Harry as much as any of the other boys. But no one gets to break him.
“What’s the problem, exactly?” He watches Niall come back inside, bag of frozen peas in one hand and a beer in the other.
“We can’t walk two steps without someone hitting on him. It’s ruining the entire night.” Harry moves suddenly, probably gesticulating wildly and hits something, hard, causing him to suck in a breath. “He just lets them, and gives me this wide-eyed pleading look. He looks like fucking Bambi, okay. It’s a disaster!”
Louis almost laughs. Instead he watches Niall slap the peas onto Liam’s leg, only for Liam to start up with his pained sounds again and Niall’s eyes to bug out.
“Is that all,” he asks, actually feeling relieved, what the fuck?
“All?” Harry screeches.
Louis pinches the bridge of his nose and watches Niall gulp half of the beer in one go.
“You just have to pretend to be his boyfriend. Sling an arm around his hips, stuff your hand into the back pocket of his jeans and glare at anyone before they come to close.”
There’s a beat of silence. Niall flops back into the couch muttering sorry sorry sorry without opening his eyes.
“—Oh. Is that all?”
Louis rolls his eyes. “Well you should probably make it convincing, but yeah, that usually helps a lot.”
“Thanks,” Harry sighs in relief. “Okay, I gotta go, he’s probably getting mauled out there. Thanks again, Lou. Love you!”
Louis freezes in place, phone still against his ear.
That was an ‘you’re a good mate and I love you’ love you, right? Not an ‘we’ve been having incredible, emotional sex and I love you’ love you. Right? Because he can handle the first. The second one would be bad, because he’d have to stop having said incredible sex with Harry, and he really, really doesn’t want to.
Fuck, he’s so screwed.
Liam needs to talk to someone, or he's about to burst. Alternatively, he needs to drink so much alcohol until he can think no more.
His hand is shaking when he opens the door to the Bunch of Carrots. And honestly, what kind of name is that for a pub, even?
Eleanor looks up from where she's cleaning a glass. She gives him a wide smile. "Liam! Good to see you again. What can I get you?"
He slumps down on the barstool and hides his face in his arms. "Something strong," he mumbles. It's only four in the afternoon and he doesn't care. He'll drink until he can't form a single thought anymore.
Thirty minutes later, he's considerably closer to his goal, when someone claps him on his back.
"Alright, mate?" He can't place the voice, not over the ringing in his ears, but the Irish drawl is a dead give away.
He lifts his head to look at Niall through watery eyes. "No," he croaks. "I'm not alright."
Niall frowns in concern but still manages to place his order discreetly. Bloody Irish.
"What's wrong, then?"
Liam wonders what he's referring to, when it all comes crashing back. Shit. Fuck. He's SO fucked. Instead of answering, he drains his glass and holds it out to El. He looks at her pleadingly and she comes over and tops it up, sighing.
"He's been like this the whole time," she tells Niall. "Something really knocked him down, but he won't talk to me."
Niall nods and accepts his beer from her. Liam just rests his head back down because he's getting dizzy from this seriously spinning room.
Niall nudges him. "What're you drinking?"
Liam looks at his glass blearily. "Alcohol?"
Niall nods, like that was the right thing to say. At least Niall thinks he can do something right. He loves Niall.
He reaches out to touch his arm, only to feel the little jolt of electricity. The others, all four of them, have been feeling that for years. Only he hadn't, because he’d never been the lucky one with the best friend to go through these things with. He's the one who wakes up at six to go for a jog, the one who'd spent his teenage years at his football clubs boarding school, where there had been classes until two, followed by football in the afternoon, a shower and then back to the classroom for tactics. Everything had been structured, everything had been clear and there had been no free time.
And then he'd made it onto the squad, at eighteen, and that had come with more freedom, sure, but he'd still spent at least six hours training and some more where the tactics were drilled into them. His life had consisted of only the people that fit into his little football bubble, his coaches, his teammates, the physiotherapists and the actual therapists.
And then he'd gone and torn his knee ligament and it hadn't even been during a big game, because nothing major, nothing interesting ever happens to him. No, he'd hurt himself in a practice game during the off season.
Nothing big, nothing exciting ever happens to Liam Payne, because Liam Payne himself is neither of those things.
He is just one bad mistake after another when left to his own devices. As soon as the structure football had provided was taken away, he'd not only managed to have sex with another guy while stoned, but also gone home with a random girl afterwards. Then he'd pretended she was his girlfriend, only she had politely declined and they hadn't spoken since. Until she'd called him earlier.
He looks at Niall now, tears brimming his vision. He blinks them away furiously and clutches Niall's shirt, pulling him closer. He might be drunk, but this is big, and he doesn't want anyone else to know. God, his parents will likely kill him.
"You remember Danielle?" he asks in a whisper.
Something changes in Niall's open face, closes off and there Liam goes again, fucking everything up. "Yeah," Niall says, voice strained.
"I had sex with her. We didn't bond." He adds that last part, because that's sort of really fucking important in all this, isn't it? Meanwhile, Niall, who always laughs and smiles at him, looks pinched. But Liam can't help it, not now, needs to get this out before he passes out. "She's pregnant."
He turns then, retches, and throws up all over his side of the bar.
###
He wakes up in an unfamiliar bed and tries to squint around. It's difficult, because there's so much pain and pressure residing in his head right now, it's making it difficult to see sharply. His eyes fall onto the figure curled up next to him.
"Good morning, daddy," Louis says. He must turn green at that, because Louis' expression changes. "If you need to throw up again, there's a bucket on the floor behind you."
Liam turns around and hangs over the bucket, thankfully empty, waiting, but nothing comes. Gentle hands stroke his back and he doesn't want them to, but they relax him. He just slumps down, head hanging over the edge of the bed.
After what feels like hours, he turns around to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "What time is it?"
"Middle of the night," Louis tells him. "Just finished my shift. Niall brought you here this afternoon, you were out of it, mumbling about how you aren't ready to be a dad and how it wouldn't work anyway because you aren't bonded but you still convinced her to have it even though she wants to give the baby up for adoption."
Liam sighs. He's a chatty drunk, he knows, but this is a new all time low. He turns away from Louis. "Sorry."
Louis moves behind him, until his arm is slung over Liam's waist and his chin rests on his shoulder. Liam stiffens for a moment, but really, who is he kidding. He sighs and relaxes into the comforting embrace. "What're you sorry for, now?"
Liam shrugs. "For being such a mess."
Louis chuckles and kisses his neck softly. They both shiver at the little jolt. "I dated Zayn while we were both teenagers. That was a mess. You aren't even part of the definition."
Liam thinks about Louis and Zayn, can see them together easily. Both gorgeous and outgoing, though in different ways, both always up for a laugh and with the same mischievous streak.
"I think you two fit together perfectly."
Louis shakes his head, hair swishing against Liam's skin. "No, too similar. We rile each other up, there is no balance. We went up in flames within weeks and it's a wonder we're still friends, actually. Or that we didn't accidentally kill anyone."
God, he wants this. Needs this. Some stupid, fun story to takes his mind off his own life. "What happened?"
"We got assigned as roommates when our parents decided to ship us off to boarding school. And I mean, you've seen him, yeah? I wanted in his pants."
"And you get what you want."
Louis shrugs. "Usually."
The door slowly opens and Zayn peeks in. "You guys okay?"
Louis scoots back, pulling Liam with him. He pats the now empty space. "Yeah. Come here."
Zayn climbs into bed, face so close to Liam's that his eyes cross when he looks at him.
"Just telling him how we met," Louis explains.
A faint smile ghosts over Zayn's lips. "Oh. Good story, that. I remember the first time I met you. You were wearing braces and had your jeans rolled up to show your ankles. I thought you were the shit."
"Yeah well, I was. Still am. Anyway, it took us two days until we were blowing each other before lessons. And we had an excuse, too. Thought we might be soulmates didn't we? That, coupled with being teenagers was enough reason to start getting each other off. Basically attached at the hip throughout the day. I don't think I listened to a single thing during lesson while we were together, or did a single piece of homework. We terrorised everyone and I ended up suspended within four weeks of meeting him."
Zayn nods. "Not that it stopped us. We'd decided to add a little washing powder to the fountain out front of the school. Just thought everyone would appreciate a bit of foam."
They break off, grinning at each other. "And?" Liam questions.
"We got sidetracked. It was night, no one was around so we ended up making out."
Louis snorts. "We were fucking on the ground next to the fountain."
Zayn smiles. "Yeah okay. But we also accidentally knocked the entire box of washing powder into the water."
"The next day," Louis continues. "The entire courtyard was flooded with foam. There were these ancient, huge hedges around, which apparently don't do too well with the chemicals, neither did the lawn. Plus, the pump for the fountain broke. It was a mess."
"Only upside was, we never got caught. But we did decide that maybe we needed to dial it back a bit, at least on one front."
Liam frowns. "To be honest, I would have never guessed that your teenage selves gave up sex in order to keep the friendship."
"We didn't give up sex," Louis snorts. His hand gently cups Zayn's jaw, finger outlining Zayn's upper lip, then his lower one. Liam's eyes follow the movement. "We just gave up sex with each other. Wasn't like we couldn't get any. And I wanted to keep him, you know?"
Zayn leans over and presses a soft kiss to Louis' mouth. "I love you, too."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm loveable like that."
Zayn flops back down, eyes on Liam. "So," he says. "You're gonna be a dad."
Liam sighs, because he knew it was coming. He'd just hoped they'd give him more time. "Yeah. I mean she doesn't want to keep it because she wants a family with her soulmate, but she doesn't want to get rid of it. So she'll give the baby up for adoption."
Louis, behind him, scoffs. "Why? You're taking it, right?"
Liam thinks about his life, about his posh apartment on the seventeenth floor, about his little sports car and his habit of traveling the world with his team. There is no place for a baby in that life.
Louis pokes him in the side, hard. "Oi! You're raising that little bald headed tot, if you want to or not. I'll make you. It's--fuck Liam, it's a baby. You're like, the luckiest man I know, getting a baby without the girl." He pauses for a moment. "Sorry, that sounded rude, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah, but unlike you, I like girls. I want a family. And what do you think my future soulmate will say if I come into the bond with a baby from someone that's not her?"
Louis shoves him onto his back then, his expression dark. "First of all, you bigoted piece of arse, I want a family as well."
Liam has to raise an eyebrow at that. He's not trying to be mean, it's just that Louis hadn't left that expression. He'd seen him go off with random guys twice in the last two weeks. That didn't exactly scream stable relationship to him. But then his eyes fall on Zayn, who had been living with Louis for almost ten years now. Maybe, Louis did do long term relationships, just not in the conventional way.
"Sorry," he mumbles and means it.
Louis takes a breath, then another. "It's fine. And I wasn't finished. Second, why would your soulmate turn their nose up at a kid." He runs his hand through his hair roughly. Liam doesn't miss how he used a gender neutral term, either. "It's a baby. Babies are awesome and it's like, a tiny little version of you. How could your soulmate not love that?"
The thing is, Louis sees everything regarding soulmates differently. Different to Liam and to most of the world outside. Liam’s parents had pretty clear views on how a soulmate bond had to go down. Both his sisters hadn't even had sex before meeting their soulmate, for christ sake, and that was the proper way in his parents eyes. Part of Liam still believed that too, but it was never going to be like that for him, now.
Unlike his sisters, he hadn't met his better half by the time he was a teenager, and being successful and famous made it difficult to stay celibate. He'd wanted to, really, but there were people out there who genuinely wanted a relationship while knowing it would never lead to a bond. It still baffled him, but not enough to turn them down. He was weak like that, and his parents had been very clear how much they disapproved of his choices. He'd wanted to bring a girlfriend home for christmas once and they had point blank refused.
"I was brought up to believe you only had sex with your soulmate, and now you want me to bring a kid into the equation."
Zayn's eyes go wide and he has to cut off the laugh that erupts from his throat. "Sorry. But those are some serious antiquated views, you are aware?"
Louis just narrows his eyes. He gets off the bed, still looking at Liam. "Whatever your views were, Liam, you have a child on the way. I don't care what people told you about what's wrong or right. I'll tell you what's right; you are about to have a daughter, or a son. And you can mope for now, that's fine." He walks over to the door and pulls it open. "And then you will man the fuck up and worry about raising your child, not about your soulmate or yourself."
He expects the door to slam behind Louis, but he closes it softly, gently, and that's even worse.
"Don't worry," Zayn tells him, showing no signs of leaving. "It's just a touchy subject. Louis was born outside of a soulbond and his dad left. Never knew the guy."
"Oh," is all Liam knows how to say, because oh.
Zayn smiles, trying to lighten the mood. "Plus, Louis really loves babies. He's great with his sisters and--well, since he's gay, he knows he'll never get kids from his soulmate. Think it breaks him sometimes."
"He can always adopt."
Zayn sighs. "Yeah, but only once he's bonded. No one will give him a kid until then." There's something in Zayn's voice, in his eyes. Like regret, or hurt for his friend, sorrow, even.
Liam wants to ask, but Zayn just pulls the covers up to his chin. "Good night, Liam," he says with finality before closing his eyes.
Liam doesn't sleep, not for a long time. He just lays there, listening to Zayn's soft breathing and to the birds chirping at around five. He watches the sunrise through the window before quietly closing the blinds and crawling back into bed with Zayn.
At around seven, he falls asleep, mind made up.
He's going to have to call Danielle, but he needs a few more hours of sleep first.
Harry is a happy, wriggly mess in his lap. He's a bit drunk, but mostly he's just happy.
"A baby," he shouts too loudly into Liam's ear. Louis is grinning from the drivers seat, while Zayn has turned around almost completely, facing the back of the car and smiling at them. Niall is there as well, clapping him on the back.
Everyone is so happy, almost proud of him, and it takes Liam a moment to adjust to this new mindset. To people being truly stoked that he's having a kid, even outside of a soulbond.
"I'm really good at babysitting," Harry tells him with wide, honest eyes. "Ask Niall. He'll be my reference, won't you Niall?"
Niall just nods, obviously used to Harry's own version of the puppy eyes. "Of course," he says. "But you have to stop kicking me."
"Oh, sorry." Harry pulls his legs in, curling up in Liam's lap. "I can watch the baby, right? Like when you go out. Can we call her Darcy?"
"What? No. I don't even know if it's a girl or a boy. And anyway, I like Emma."
"Emma?" Harry repeats dubiously. Then he nods. "'Kay, Emma is fine, too."
"Thanks," Liam says sarcastically.
Harry nods, completely missing the smirk Zayn throws in their direction.
They've just finished a soulmeet at the school. They all seem to be blending into one for him, as nothing ever really changes. Everyone shows up, everyone shakes hands and all the bonded pairs are exceedingly confused by him. At least the guys inspire the same look of confusion, so there is that, at least. He always ends up hanging out with them anyway. It's not like he's in it for the champagne or the small talk. He wants to get this whole business of finding a soulmate over with. He wants to scratch it of the list, wants to no longer worry about it.
The five of them go a little stir crazy, when it's just dragging on and on, or someone decides it's a good idea for yet another speech. He's had to keep Louis out of serious trouble almost every time, or interfere on Zayn's behalf, rescue him when he gets propositioned and doesn't say no, because apparently he doesn't do that when he's stoned, and he's always stoned at soulmeets. Niall tends to befriend the wait staff and slips them money if they keep the alcohol coming. Harry, when drunk and bored, revs up the charm. He tries Louis first, or one of the other guys, but eventually he ends up flirting outrageously with one of the older women there.
So tonight, they're going out. Liam isn't really sure if it's such a good idea, thinks it might be difficult to keep an eye on all four of them, but they need this. They've attended four soulmeets in the last week alone. They need to blow off steam.
They end up in some club where Niall is immediately dragged onto the dance floor by a pretty brunette. Harry starts dancing--okay, it's more flailing, really--alone but soon finds a girl to press up against.
Zayn is getting appreciative looks, which is normal. He just stands there and blinks. He's smoked a joint in the car, and it makes him blink slowly and generally look like he's something small and fragile. And gorgeous. People can spot it a mile away and they're drawn to it.
And after the soul-searching Liam has been doing after what happened with Louis, he can admit that he sees the appeal.
Louis drags Zayn to the bar, but leaves him to stare at the lights and bodies on the dance floor while he gets the bartenders attention.
A few seats down from them, two guys are doing the same, but one notices Zayn and jabs his friend in the ribs with his elbow. Then he nods in Zayn's direction. The second guy finishes his drink in one go and heads over to where Zayn is still weirdly fascinated by the happenings on the dance floor.
Without meaning to, Liam finds himself by Zayn's side, arm around his shoulders. Warmth rushes through him when Zayn rests his head on his shoulder.
He's saying something, pointing at the dance floor but Liam can't hear him. He's too busy glaring at the guy, who has slowed his purposeful walk to a more casual stroll.
"Oh good," Louis shouts from beside him, pressing a drink in his hand. "You're on Zayn duty."
"What's this?" Liam asks, holding up the drink.
"Good is what that is." He rolls his eyes at Louis. "It's a drink, Liam. For you, from me. Now then," he says and pats his arse fondly. "Bottoms up. Thanks for watching Zaynie-boo, I really need to get laid."
And just like that, he's gone.
Zayn giggles. "He will, too," he says right into Liam's ear. And he's too close, this was a bad idea. Zayn snaps his fingers before their eyes. "Just like that. He'll pick whoever he wants to go home with, and they won't stand a chance. He's like, the ultimate party boy, and no one ever suspects him. People say he looks soft. Cute." Zayn turns and looks at him with wide eyes. "People have no idea."
"I guess not," Liam agrees. "You want something from the bar? Or--whatever this is?"
"Can't," Zayn says. "Can't mix weed with booze, makes me sick. Want a smoke, though."
Liam nods and pulls him up some stairs, following the sign of a cigarette and a large arrow. He sips his drink on the way, and whatever it is, it's strong as hell. It also tastes really good, sugary sweet, and Liam can't stop himself from drinking more. They reach a balcony then, large enough that the twenty or so people fit comfortably. There are some couches and chairs but they're all occupied, so he pulls Zayn over to the railing, where they can watch the people below.
It's cold out, or it should be, but Liam can't feel it right now. But the leaves have started falling from the trees and the days have shortened, a nippy wind rolling over the country, forcing everyone out in jackets and coats. It had rained on their drive over here and the aftereffects are clearly visible; raindrops caught in the spiderweb on a streetlamp, or the moon reflecting in the smooth surface of a puddle.
Zayn immediately digs through his pockets and produces both cigarettes and a lighter. He lights one, wrapping his lips around it appreciatively. Liam has no idea where he kept those in his tight jeans. Zayn is also wearing a dark shirt with a scene from a comic printed on it. It should look dorky, ridiculous even, but combined with the leather jacket it just. It just looks unbearably hot. Liam drinks some more, starting to feel the effects now.
Zayn has zoned out again, watching his fingers trail over the railing, causing a few collected raindrops to fall to the ground.
"Are you okay?" Liam asks.
Zayn looks up slowly. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You're acting weird," Liam says and hastens to add, "not in a bad way. Just. Different."
Zayn turns all of his slow blinking, softly moving self to face Liam. He cocks his head to one side. "I'm really stoned."
"Yeah I--I know. You're just, different from anyone else I've ever seen stoned."
Zayn takes a long drag from his cigarette. Again, it's slow, same as when he pushes a strand of hair awkwardly out of his eyes, only to have it fall right back. He ignores it, or no longer notices it. His gaze turns down and he looks so bloody vulnerable Liam has to stop himself from wrapping him up in his arms. God, he needs to get himself under control. He starts by emptying his drink and plonking the glass on a nearby table. There.
"How am I different?" Zayn asks without looking up.
"Dunno, really," he tells him honestly. "You remind me a bit of a baby deer."
Zayn sighs. "Not you with the Bambi eyes, too."
Liam shakes his head quickly. "No that's not--it's just. Your every step looks a bit unsure. Not much, really. People who don't know you probably wont notice. You're like a baby deer who just learned how to walk but every step is a challenge. You look about as breakable as one of them, too."
Zayn laughs a bit, but he's curling into Liam, so that's okay.
"How drunk are you, exactly?"
Liam shrugs and smiles fondly at Zayn, whose nose is doing that cute wrinkly thing. He strokes his finger down it until the wrinkles smooth out. Only Zayn is staring at him all intently now, and suddenly Liam feels like the breakable one.
"What," Liam murmurs softly.
Zayn shrugs and makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. He presses in more closely, so that one of Liam's legs is between both of his. With a start, Liam notices that Zayn is getting hard.
Neither of them says anything and Zayn just keeps still, pressed against Liam like that, looking at him almost expectantly. Liam doesn't know what to do, doesn't understand what Zayn wants him to do.
Zayn turns his head eventually, just enough to bring the cigarette to his lips again, but it's enough to break the little moment. He moves back slightly and Liam can breathe again, gulps in the night air like a fish out of water.
"I'm done." Zayn steps away and extinguishes the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.
Liam nods, and when they head back inside, there's no touching, be it accidental or otherwise. Zayn just walks in front of him, shoulders shift, and Liam follows at a slight distance. He isn't quite sure what just happened, but he doesn't like it.
Niall and Harry are still dancing, the girls there as well, but they've gravitated towards each other, dancing close, touching occasionally. Louis is no where to be seen, and it makes Liam nervous.
Zayn pulls him over to the quieter side of the club, where there are couches and low tables with half empty drinks on them. One couch has enough space for one person. Zayn pushes him into it, then squeezes in beside them. There's some grumbling from the girl next to them, but she cuts herself off when her eyes fall on Zayn, who smiles at her innocently. She starts turning around, interest on her face, then extends a finger and drags it down Zayn's face.
"That's a pity," she says when they don't spark. "We could still work something out, though."
Zayn just looks at Liam with wide eyes that basically scream ‘help fix this’. Liam sling his arm around Zayn's shoulders and pulls him into his chest.
"He's not interested."
She shrugs and turns away again while Zayn tries, and fails, to smooth out Liam's furrowed brow. Apparently, they are back to touching again.
"You're good at that," he says, still pressing against Liam's skin. "Why're you so good at that?"
Liam stops glaring and gives himself a mental tongue lashing. What is he even doing?
"Good at what," he asks, trying to be all nonchalant. He hopes it works.
"Zayn duty," Zayn says calmly.
"What even is that?"
Zayn looks at him with big eyes, his mouth a perfect little O. The he shakes his head and looks around. He leans in whispering, like it's some great big secret, "people hit on me, like a lot. Cause like," he makes a swiping motion around his head, "of ma face."
Liam laughs. "You mean people hit on you because you're hot?"
There's another slow blink. "You think I'm hot?"
He's not blushing, he's not. "Zayn, I'm pretty sure the pope thinks you're hot."
Zayn makes a face. "But he's old. You're not. You're like, super fit."
He's not quite sure what to make of it, especially when Zayn pats a hand down the front of Liam's shirt. His movement is so slow, it's more like a caress. It's easy to see why everyone thinks Zayn is hot, of course, but there's so much more to it. He's funny, almost as mischievous as Louis and he's talented.
Liam had come by Zayn's little garage-turned-art-studio when helping out in their garden, and Zayn had shown him some of his work. He's pretty bashful about it, which is sort of adorable, and Liam had looked at it with great interest while listening attentively to Zayn talk about the individual pieces. He'd ended up just sitting there, watching Zayn move around his space. He looks comfortable there, not just familiar but like and inner calm washes over him when be works.
Somehow, that had ended with Zayn sketching Liam, pencil on canvas. And then he'd had to come back because Zayn wanted to add the background, and then colours. Liam had never known how elaborate an art piece is, how many steps it involves and how much time it consumes. He'd thought people just picked up a brush and started, but that's not the case. But he hadn't minded because all he had to do was sit there and stare at Zayn.
"Why does Zayn duty exist?"
Zayn blinks at him, all slow and pretty. It takes ages for the answer to come. "Because I get stoned when we go out." He leans up and whispers into Liam's ear, "I don't much like people. So I smoke. But it makes me, like, really slow to respond."
Liam laughs. "Really now?"
Zayn nods. "And I get lost in my thoughts. Totally forget to tell people to fuck off. Don't much want to either."
Liam wonders how it must be, to be able to pull anyone you lay your eyes on. He's never seen Zayn actively pursue someone, doesn't even know if that's Zayn's MO, but he wouldn't have a problem, that much is clear. The fact that Liam has never seen Zayn hook up with anyone since they met makes this all the weirder.
Where Niall is cute, Harry is flirty and Louis is seductive, Zayn is just... Zayn. Liam wonders what it would be like to be with him sometimes, wonders what Zayn is like in bed, what he's like after sex, the next morning. There's a pang in his chest, and he's too drunk to ignore it. He's sad. Sad that they'll never really have that, even if they wanted to, because they aren't soulmates. Any relationship they would have, would come with an expiry date.
He wonders when he started thinking that a male soulmate would be an option. Probably shortly after sex with Louis. It's weird, how being away from his parents and his structured life has shifted his thoughts. It's not really clear if he's just easily influenced or if he never really shared his parents views to begin with, but he could see himself bonded to all sorts of people now, not just girls with a certain background.
Zayn is still staring at him. "I get lost in my thoughts too, it seems."
There's a hand low on his stomach and Liam looks at it, at the way Zayn is slowly moving it back and forth.
Liam grins, the drink having loosened something inside of him. "Are you petting my abs?"
It takes a moment to sink in, and suddenly Zayn is all flustered, pulling his hand back and muttering excuses. Liam catches his hand and brings it back.
"I don't mind," he whispers truthfully. "'S nice."
Zayn stared at him. "I don't get you," he finally says.
"Don't get me, how?"
Zayn shrugs, obviously uncomfortable now. "It's just that, uhm." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm really bad at this."
Bad at what, Liam wonders, waiting patiently for Zayn to collect his thoughts.
Finally, Zayn asks, "do you like me?"
Does he like Zayn? Of course he does, everyone knows it. Even Zayn. But what he's probably asking is if Liam is interested in him. Is he? One of his newer realisations is that he doesn't really object to sex with guys, not in the way he was brought up to. Being with Louis hadn't been awkward because they're both guys. It had been hot. So did he want Zayn? Everyone wanted Zayn. But Liam also knew a side of him others didn't, and yes, he wanted Zayn. That Zayn.
"Just forget it," Zayn mumbles, getting up.
Liam pulls him back down. "Sorry," he says. "Just thinking." And fuck it, there's been enough thinking. "Yes, I like you. When you wake up and are grumpy, I like that. I like when Louis says something ridiculous and you get this happy look. Or when you're painting, and you forget everything around you. That, I think I love. Did you know you talk to yourself when you're in your studio and concentrating on your work? It's adorable."
Zayn looks at him, stunned.
"Sorry," Liam says again, not meaning it. "I pay attention to detail."
Zayn sucks in his bottom lip, his gaze dropping to Liam's lips. Liam knows that look, knows what Zayn wants him to do. But if he's really doing this, he's not going to be the one who starts it. And what is he even hoping for? Sex? A relationship? He's not really sure. All he knows after seeing how strangers treat Zayn, how they come on strong, like they're telling him what to do and what he wants, he won't be one of them. He won't initiate this. Whatever this is.
The moment is broken, when Louis arrives and unceremoniously throws the car keys at them. "I'm leaving. See you tomorrow, yeah?"
There's a guy with him, standing behind Louis, hands on hips, rubbing against him while feebly trying to play it off as dancing.
Liam stiffens. "No."
Louis' eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, we can't. Drive. We've all been drinking." It's a vapid excuse, mainly because it's not completely true. Also, Louis is probably the most drunk out of all of them, so he wouldn't drive anyway. Liam knows this, and still he uses that excuse, because he can't think of anything else.
"That," Louis says, twisting around in the guys grip to press their fronts together. "Is not my problem." He steps back quickly, grabbing for the guys hand. Everything inside Liam screams that this is a bad idea, that this is wrong. But what's probably wrong is the fact that he was just now contemplating starting something with Zayn, and now he's jealous Louis going home with some random guy. It doesn't even make sense.
Zayn's whole body had gone stiff when Louis first appeared and he hasn't relaxed yet, eyes narrowed and still tracking Louis' movement through the crowds, heading for the door.
Liam wonders if maybe Zayn is still in love with Louis, wonders if that's why he stuck around for so long.
"You okay?"
Zayn flinches and drags his eyes to Liam. "Don't like him going off with strangers."
And it probably shouldn't feel like a punch to the gut, because Zayn didn't mean it like that. But it does. Because a few weeks ago, he had been that stranger, going off with Louis.
"Right," he says and suddenly, everything is unbearably awkward.
"Right," Zayn echoes. He gets up, and only then does Liam notice that Zayn had practically been sitting in his lap.
Liam pockets the car keys and gets up as well.
By unspoken agreement, they search out Harry and Niall. The two of them are still dancing, slightly sweaty and their previous partners nowhere in sight. They're having a good time though, laughing and groping each other increasingly inappropriately.
Liam is about to say something when Harry spots them. Niall immediately moves in behind Zayn, who starts swaying along to the rhythm. Harry pulls Liam in, too, and he makes a valid effort to dance, to have fun.
But he can't, feels off kilter and wrong. Zayn is avoiding eye contact with him now and the other two must feel something is off as well.
The evening ends on that shitty note and they call it a night much earlier than expected. No one mentions the fact that there's one person less in the car, everyone silent and the air thick of--of what exactly? It's suddenly unbearable, the complete opposite to the light mood when they were heading out.
Liam hates it, wants it to stop but of course it doesn't.
Harry just stares out of the window, face brooding. Niall sighs a lot, probably no better equipped for these moods than Liam. And Zayn is still ignoring him, frowning to himself.
When they arrive, Zayn heads straight inside with barely a goodbye, the rest of them standing outside awkwardly. Liam points down the pathway. "I'm gonna head to my room. In the school."
Harry suddenly snaps out of his mood and checks his watch. "I'm going to the pub."
Niall sighs. "Harry..."
"You don't have to come with me, Ni. It's fine."
"Yeah, but you know I will anyway."
They walk silently until their paths head off in different directions and they say awkward goodbyes before heading off.
Liam isn't sure what happened to make this night crash, he just hopes he never sees a repeat of it, ever again.
November
"What's with the suit, you lose your leather jacket?"
Zayn is leaning back against the wall, off in one corner, looking every bit the bad boy image he's painted with, even in the formal clothes. Niall joins him, wonders what kind of picture they must make, all dark and light, broody and all smiles.
Zayn looks down at himself, then shrugs. "Wanted to change it up."
"Yeah? Did it work?"
A few feet away, three girls stand in a circle, talking furiously while shooting lingering glances at Zayn.
Niall drops his head back against the wall. "Guess the suit wasn't enough. Sorry Zayn."
"It's fine. Do you think they'd throw me out if I started smoking?" He's waving his cigarette box around.
"Probably, yeah."
Zayn sighs deeply and puts his cigarettes away again. "This blows."
Niall couldn't agree more.
Zayn nudges him, "hey, so how was the guy, Ben Winston?"
Niall wrinkles his nose. "Bit of a dick, if I'm honest. And you can't really tell he's part of an all powerful triumvirate, cause he was spouting the same bull. He got a bit of a pinched look on his face when I told him about the muted down spark we feel, you know. Thought he would know something about it but he just said 'that's interesting'. And he totally flinched when his soul mate, the male one, laid his hand on his shoulder. Don't think he likes him much."
Zayn frowns. "That's a bit of a let down."
Niall sighs. "Yeah." He stops a passing waiter who's carrying a full tray of wine glasses. Niall takes three and puts them on the little ledge beside him. "You want some?"
"Nah, I'm good, thanks."
Niall shrugs. It's red wine, which usually makes him sleepy, but that would probably improve his current situation.
Just then, a girl breaks off from the group and heads over. She's eyeing Zayn speculatively. "I remember you from earlier, when we touched hands. Wanna dance?"
"He can't," Niall tells her, "not after the lawsuit. Two left feet, that one."
She looks at him like he's something she found at the bottom of her shoe. "Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I was talking to him."
My, my, some people sure are nice.
Niall is about to tell her to fuck off, when Louis appears out of nowhere, slides his arm around Zayn and kisses him. Zayn leans into the kiss, even grabs the back of Louis' head to pull him closer.
Niall can't help but stare. There's a lot of tongue, and they move like they've done this a hundred times before, which is probably true. He's also kind of turned on, after all, two ridiculously hot guys are making out right in front of him.
Zayn makes a little whimpering noise in the back of his throat and Louis pulls back, still close enough that their lips touch while he talks. "Love that sound. Gets me hard every time."
Zayn laughs and pushes him back, runs a hand over his red lips. "Fuck off," he says with a smile.
Louis shakes his head, like he's all disappointed. "Too easy, babe. Far too easy." He looks up, his gaze sweeping over the girl. "Can I help you?"
She leaves after that and Louis grins at Niall. "Now that’s how you deal with people hitting on Zayn."
Niall swallows. "I'll have to remember that."
"Make sure you do," Louis says and steals a big gulp from Niall's drink. It's okay, he's got plenty and he can get more. Also, Louis is fun, so he's totally willing to indulge him.
"You guys enjoying yourselves?" Zayn lifts one shoulder. Niall shakes his head. "That's too bad. Maybe you should do something about it, then?"
Niall frowns at him. "How are you not bored? You get bored waiting for your bread to be toasted and eat it only half done instead. I've seen you do it."
"Got a date, don't I? Told him to meet me out front in ten."
"You're not taking him back to ours."
Louis whines. "Why not?"
Zayn gets out a cigarette then and pops it in the side of his mouth. "Because I already have to deal with tripping over the shit you keep lying around. I'm not going to start tripping over your one night stands, too."
Louis makes a hurt face, but it disappears as fast as it came. "Fine," he draws the word out. "He's got a car, we should be fine."
"Car sex?" Niall questions. "Are we back in school?"
Louis taps his nose and ruffles his hair. "Well, I hope he's gonna last longer than twenty seconds to cream his pants."
Zayn pushes off the wall. "You're gross." He turns and directs his next question to Niall directly. "Come for a smoke with me?"
Niall picks up two of his wine glasses and follows him out. Louis waves at them obnoxiously before heading in the opposite direction.
Zayn has just lit his cigarette when Harry comes bounding out, his hair flying everywhere. "Quick! Hide me, Niall."
"I can't, because you're gigantic."
Zayn just raises an eyebrow at how Harry actually tries to hide behind him.
Niall sighs and takes a sip of his wine. "Who did you flirt with now?"
"I don't know! She was lovely, we danced. How was I supposed to know she's got a boyfriend. He's huge."
"You two are a menace. Actually, add Louis in as well."
Zayn bumps Niall's foot with his own. "Hey. What'd I do?"
Niall doesn't answer him. He sees Liam walk past and he quickly sticks his head back inside and beckons him to join them. Shared pain and all that.
Liam frowns. "What's going on?"
"Zayn is attracting weirdos again and Harry flirted with a girl who has a huge boyfriend or something. You want to leave these two idiots to their fate and go to the pub?"
"Sure," Liam says easily.
"Hey!" say both Harry and Zayn. Zayn sighs, all put upon, like they are inconveniencing him. "You can all come home with me. The beers are a hell of a lot cheaper, and it you need to crash, we have the space for that, too."
A guy opens the door, nods and joins them. "So uhm," he starts, zeroing in on Zayn. "Can I get your number or something. My girlfriend convinced me to ask you."
Liam turns red and Niall doesn't miss the twitch in his hands. It makes Niall start laughing hysterically, Harry joining in soon after, because Harry loves a good laugh.
"Sorry," Liam says in a clipped tone. "But he's not interested."
He slings his arm around Zayn's shoulders and starts leading him down to the garden.
"Sorry, mate," Niall tells him. "Better luck next time, yeah?"
He takes Harry's hand and they follow the others, stumbling and laughing all the way to Zayn's home.
Niall is laughing at something Harry said and even Liam and Zayn are cracking smiles. Harry looks around, all bright eyes and asks, "where's Louis?"
Zayn's grin immediately freezes and he looks at Niall, like he's the one who's going to field this one.
Niall sighs. "Look, Harry..."
Harry catches on then, and he just nods. "Oh yeah. Sure."
Zayn coughs. "Right, anyone for a beer?"
Harry goes with him and they return with the beers. Harry is also clutching a cheap brandy to his chest, already opened and some missing.
They pop in a movie, one of the Batman ones, which Zayn gets really excited about. Harry just drinks the brandy and looks at the screen while Niall rubs his back. Eventually, Harry puts the bottle down and curls up, head on Niall's chest.
When Louis comes home half way through the movie Harry doesn't move. The shower runs for a couple of minutes and then Louis joins them in joggers and a tank top. He flops down in front of them on the ground and leans his head back against Niall's knee.
Harry might still be angry, but Niall knows he can't hold a grudge, so he's not even surprised when Harry starts playing with Louis' hair.
Niall leans his head against Liam.
He isn't drunk enough for this.
It's been several days since Louis fucked some nameless guy in his back seat. Harry is just letting go of that, and Louis is off with another guy. Again.
And Harry just--Harry just can't handle it, gets angry and jealous, his skin itching until he has nothing else on his mind.
And it's driving him insane.
He goes for a walk, not even sure of the destination, just needing to move, to get away.
The town is quiet in the late afternoon, everyone off snoozing from a hearty lunch or preparing a dinner, maybe. He still finds a few stragglers at the town square. After a quick introduction he starts chatting with them, but it's harder than normal, somehow doesn't come naturally to be charming and entertaining and he has to actually work for it, work for every smile and stray touch.
If this is how other people communicate, he feels sorry for them.
Another woman makes her excuses and hurries away, even after Harry tried to charm her to stay, tell him a bit about the town, maybe. About the people. About Zayn and Louis. About Louis. But she didn't and Harry couldn't.
And he hates that. Feels--impotent, that's the right word.
It's like Louis going off with some random other bloke erases Harry's capability of talking to people, of pulling then in, of gathering them around him.
Louis fucking some other dude makes him socially impotent. And that's not okay, and it's all Louis' fault.
To top it all off, the clouds above decide this is the best moment to start with the rain. It isn't too bad yet, more of a drizzle than anything and he decides he's just going to have to deal with it.
Surfacing from his contemplation, he looks up. It's not really surprising that his subconscious had brought him here, to the Tomlinson-Malik household.
He'll just have a quick chat with Zayn, maybe sit and brood in his insanely awesome garden. Harry kind of wants to ask him if he can plant some vegetables in the greenhouse. He could cook them, serve some fancy meal.
But only to Zayn, because Louis would probably be off fucking some other dude.
He grits his teeth at the way his heart clenches at the thought. All of a sudden, he feels vulnerable and alone. He rings the doorbell, intent to hug Zayn as soon as he opens the door, just to feel human contact, to not feel alone.
But Zayn doesn't open the door, no one does. He just stands there, clothes clinging uncomfortably to him while the drizzle slowly turns into a proper rain.
Zayn could be wearing headphones, or out back in the garden where he can't hear the bell. Right. Harry grew up in a small village as well, he knows how this goes. He walks around the side of the house, careful to stay on the path and not to trample anything.
There's a garage set at the far back of the garden, almost like it had belonged to another property and the sprawling garden had just taken that over. It has two big doors on either side and they're both open, perfect for the ventilation Zayn needs when working with his spray cans.
There's an easel propped up in the center, a thin brush with paint still before it.
It's a picture of Liam, which is a bit surprising. He's just sitting on a stool, looking up and smiling his little smile. But what's best about the painting, is that it's done in some kind of comic style, sharp black lines and contrasting, vivid colours.
There's a noise coming from the adjacent door, which Harry assumed is the toilet. Someone, Louis probably, has drawn a stick figure with an oversized penis, peeing happily and in a great arc into a bowl.
Zayn emerges moments later, surprise written clearly on his face. He's holding a freshly washed colour palette and several paintbrushes.
"Hi," Harry says. "Is this a bad time?"
Zayn shakes himself out of his stupor. "No, it's fine."
He point's at the easel. "Why're you drawing Liam?"
"Painting," Zayn corrects. "Because he's good at sitting still, mostly."
Harry laughs. "Helps that he's easy to look at?"
"Yeah." The first real smile of the evening flits across Zayn's face. "Also easy to talk to."
Harry nods. "Can I ask you something."
Zayn just smiles gently. "Louis adores you."
Either it's written plain on his face, or he isn't giving Zayn enough credit. And yes, sure. Louis likes him, that much is clear. They have pretty fantastic sex and that's nothing to scoff at. "How can you tell?"
Zayn shrugs. "He's had sex with you more than once. Also, he can't shut up about how compatible you two are in bed."
"We are, but sex isn't everything. Which he makes clear by sleeping with more people in the last month than I've ever slept with in my entire life."
Zayn looks apologetic. "He's just a bit lost right now. And it's not that he isn't the monogamous type, he's actually loyal to a fault. It's just that he likes to go out, go dancing and pull random guys, you know? It's just something he enjoys. The fact that he hasn't found his soulmate yet is just aggravating it even more."
"We're all stressed about the soulmate thing, and he's still got a year."
Something shuts down in Zayn's face. "Maybe you should talk to him about it."
Yeah, cause Louis would just love that, wouldn't he? Talk of relationships and settling down and kids, because Harry wants kids, god dammit. But all that without a soulbond, just because Louis instinctively knows all the right buttons to push when they're in bed? Yeah, like that's gonna happen. Right then, Harry hates the world just for existing.
"Maybe."
"I thought you'd be off on the trip to the soulmeet in Edinburgh?" It's a weak attempt at a subject change, but Harry jumps on it gratefully.
"I hate those big ones. Horrible. Niall's parents made him go, and I would have joined him but he's got Liam. They get on disturbingly well, who would have thought."
"Yeah."
Harry's eyes widen. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I know you have a bit of a crush on Liam. If it helps, they are just friends."
Zayn puts down the washed utensils and wipes his hands on his trousers. "No, it's fine. Don't worry about it. Liam isn't interested in me like that, so it doesn't even matter."
"Are you sure about that," Harry asks dubiously. From what he's seen, Liam is very interested in Zayn.
Zayn slams his palm against a button on the wall and one of the garage doors closes. "It's ironic, isn't it? People hit on me all the time, but the guy that finally caught my eye isn't interested in me."
Harry scratches the back of his neck while watching Zayn move about the place, clearing things away. "I'm pretty sure he likes you."
"Nah. I made a move the other night. Basically pressed against him half hard. He was being all gentlemanly and ignored it. No reaction apart from that. And when I asked him if he liked me he says 'yes' and that was it. No move from him. I don't really ever initiate anything and seeing how that worked out, I'm not trying it again, soon."
They head towards the main house then, Zayn pulling the second garage door closed behind him. "Come on, you can take a shower and I'll find you some dry clothes. You look sad like that."
Their walk is silent for a moment until Harry finally says, "but if I understand you right, you didn't really let him know what you wanted. You just waited for him to make the first move?"
Zayn glares at him, and Harry is only taking his shit because he looks so incredibly sad.
Once they're in the living room, Zayn just stops walking. "Look I--I never initiate anything. Never. All I ever had to do is take people up on their offer. That's how it's always worked, that's how I like it."
Harry pulls him to the kitchen and gets the kettle boiling. "Know what I learned recently?" While fucking your best friend, he doesn't add.
"What?"
"That doing things the way you've always done them just because it's convenient and comfortable deprives you of new experiences. Some of which you will love, even if you might not have thought so at first." He pours the hot water over the teabags in the cup before he continues. "Also, Liam thought he was straight up until recently. Maybe you weren't clear enough for him, who knows."
Zayn makes a face but doesn't disagree.
"I can't believe I'm crushing on a guy who thinks he's straight."
Harry smiles at him, all bittersweet. "At least your guy doesn't fuck everything that isn't hiding up a tree on the count of three."
Zayn cringes. "Look, Harry--."
"No it's fine, it's not your problem. I'm sorry."
"Hey," Zayn says softly, hand resting on his bare arm and he shivers at the little spark. "You can come to me with your problems. I'm always here to listen, okay?"
Harry looks at him for a long moment before throwing his arms around him in a hug. "Thanks," he says finally. "Also, I'd really like that shower now."
Zayn leads him upstairs and with a fresh towel in hand pushes him into the bathroom. Harry takes a quick shower, just long enough to warm up. He steps out of the stall and inspects the beauty products for a moment, not really surprised to find a lot of different hair products. He towels off and heads outside, towel around his hips.
Zayn is waiting in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed, a towel around his waist also. He's staring at the ground as though it holds all the answers.
"No brooding," Harry tells him, giving his shoulder a squeeze.
"Yeah okay. I'm just gonna shower quickly." He points at the dresser. "Just get yourself anything that fits."
Once he's gone, Harry heads over and gets some track suit bottoms and a t-shirt and throws them on the bed. He's still a bit cold though, so he starts looking for a jumper or a hoodie or something. He assumes the piles on the floor are clothes that need to be washed, so when he doesn't find anything in the dresser he moves on to the wardrobe, rifling around in there.
There are more shirts there, along with jeans and two leather jackets, the only two items hung up. He rifles around some more while trying not to make a mess. He pulls out something else and lets it unfold in his hand.
And then he stares at it for a long moment. Why does Zayn have a skirt?
Until it hits him that it's probably from an ex girlfriend, kept as some sort of memorabilia. He quickly puts it back, but has to move the stack of shirts to reach that far back.
He finds three more skirts. What the fuck?
This isn't a girlfriend thing, he doesn't think. This is something else entirely, isn't it?
He hears Zayn coming back and he quickly returns all but one skirt, then hides the one under the other clothes he's lain out for himself.
Zayn comes in, all glistening skin and miles and miles of tattoos. Harry loves them, wants to actually take his time one day to look at them in peace. But not today.
"Hey Zayn," he starts just as Zayn pulls on soft looking tracksuit bottoms and rubs his hair dry with the towel. He holds up the skirt. "Mind if I try this on?"
"Sure," Zayn says and only then does he look up. His face turns ashen and he freeze up, towel still in hand.
Harry immediately turns his smirk into a smile and holds up one hand placatingly. "Don't worry," he says quickly, trying to reassure Zayn, who looks like he's about to bolt.
Zayn clears his throat. "It's not what you think."
Harry shrugs. He hadn't been thinking much about it, if he's honest. Mostly he'd just wondered what Zayn looked like in one of them.
"It's not like--I just. Fuck. Sometimes I--."
"Hey, hey. Look, it's cool. You like what you like. I'm not here to judge. I really wouldn't mind trying it on though?" When Zayn still looks jumpy, Harry just says, "look, considering what I get up to with Louis these days, wearing a skirt will be pretty tame."
For a moment he thinks Zayn might ask, and he probably would tell him everything he wants to know, too. But then Zayn just shakes his head, clearly still deeply embarrassed. "It'll look shit anyway, unless you shave your legs."
Harry perks up. "You got a razor?"
Half an hour later they're both back in Zayn's bedroom.
Harry rubs his legs together again. "Fuck," he murmurs, looking down and his bare legs. "That feels like fucking silks."
Zayn smiles. While he showed Harry how to best shave his legs by demonstrating on himself, he's point blank refused to put on a skirt, so he's back in his trackies.
Harry swishes his hips and smiles when the hem of the skirt brushes against his thighs. It feels good. Really good.
"So who else knows?"
He twists around in front of the floor length mirror, likes how the fabric feels. He looks over his shoulder and at his bum in the mirror. The skirt has layers, almost ruffles and it's doing wonders to make his bum appear perky and big.
"Think I could rival Louis' bum in this?"
Zayn looks at him critically, then shakes his head. "Louis' bum is sort of epic."
Harry sighs wistfully.
"It's uhm. Only Louis knows."
Harry nods and concentrates on brushing down the skirt so the folds fall evenly. This is obviously really hard for Zayn, but it happened, he saw, and now they're gonna talk about it like adults.
"I have a few g strings. And some lace panties," Harry confesses.
Zayn snorts. "You don't have to make me feel better. It's. Uhm, it's fine."
Harry shrugs, still looking at his reflection. "There shouldn't be any reason for anyone to make you feel better about this, because there's nothing wrong with it. And I really do have those panties. I'll show you next time you're up at the school, yeah?"
"Come on, Harry. I want a fresh tea. And then we can watch stupid TV shows and veg out."
They do just that and end up tangled in front of the TV. Harry has pushed up Zayn's trackies and keeps rubbing their smooth legs together. Zayn had stiffened at first, but now he's sliding his calf up Harry's shin, absentmindedly, eyes still fixed on the TV.
The front door opens and Zayn looks at him with wide eyes. "That's Louis," he says hurriedly. "I can stall him, then you can run upstairs and change."
Harry looks down at his legs and smoothes down his skirt. "Nah. I don't mind."
Zayn looks at him like he maybe lost his mind, but really, Louis has seen him in far more compromising positions. He truly doesn't mind. Plus, he's still miffed with Louis, so he's not about to do anything because of or for him.
Louis comes in and scrutinises them, eyes on their entwined legs for a long moment. They turn darker when they slide up Harry's thighs and see the skirt. Good.
"Nice dress."
"It's a skirt," Harry corrects him, pointedly not taking his eyes off the telly.
"You shave your legs?" There's a dark tone in Louis' voice and Harry revels in it.
"Yep." He shifts closer to Zayn so Louis can sit down on the sofa.
Louis doesn't even last two minutes. "Come upstairs with me."
Harry doesn't look away from the screen. "No, thanks."
Louis looks, well, Louis looks flabbergasted. "Why not?"
Harry turns to look at him. "Because I want to watch this show and spend my time with Zayn. It's what I came here for."
Louis doesn't reply, just shuts his mouth with an audible click.
Good.
Harry holds out for two more days, and when he finally gives in, Louis makes him put on the skirt again, then has him ride Louis while his erection tents the skirt awkwardly. It's well worth the wait.
Zayn in walking down the school hallway, heading for Niall's room. But he doesn't get that far because Niall is just in the next hallway, Mrs. Blandford towering over him, talking rapidly. One of her girls is there as well, the one Niall knows. Tammy.
He moves closer.
"I can not believe the audacity you have Mr. Horan. Be sure to know your parents will hear of this." She straightens, easily towering over Niall, who looks like he wishes he were anywhere but here. "I recall telling you, in detail, that the students where off limits. And then I find you here--and--."
Zayn slides in besides Niall, grabs his hand and squeezes it.
"Everything alright here?"
The headmistress splutters. "Mr. Malik, you are not allowed on school grounds," she hisses, grabbing for his upper arm. He dodges her, even though it agitates her further.
"Unless I am invited," he counters.
"Let me cut you off right there. If you are about to tell me the invitation was issued by Mr. Horan, it will count against the both of you, considering I just found Mr. Horan here in a rather compromising position with one of my students."
Tammy is crying, but she still speaks up at that. "It was a kiss on the cheek! Because he's been kind enough to help me."
The headmistress turns her head to her student. "You, Mrs. Higby, will stay out of this. You are well aware that fraternising with the hotel guests will lead to your expulsion."
"We didn't fraternise," Niall cuts in.
Mrs. Blandford makes a silencing motion with her hand. Then she points at Zayn. "Mr. Malik, do tell on whose invitation you are here. It will make this all that much easier."
"I invited him," comes a new voice. Liam slides in beside him, and like he did with Niall before, takes his hand and squeezes. Zayn squeezes back thankfully.
"Liam?" The headmistress' expression slips for just a moment, confusion now evident.
"And Niall and Tammy aren't hiding anything." He turns to the girl, his voice softer, "why don't you tell her?"
Tammy looks at all three of them with wide eyes, anxiously fiddling with her hair. She looks at the headmistress before staring at the ground. "I uhm. At the start of the school year, I--I sparked."
Mrs. Blandford looks taken aback for a moment before her expression relaxes. Then it hardens again. "With whom?"
Tammy's cheeks turn red. "With Katie. Katie Summers."
Relief floods the headmistress face and she claps her hands together once. "Well that is wonderful news, Mrs Higby! A match right here at St Catherine’s. And two of my students matched. Congratulations."
Zayn understands that there is a lot of pressure on the private schools to produce matches for their students and matching two in one day must be like christmas has come early.
"Niall was just helping her figuring some stuff out," Liam says.
"Well," says the headmistress, picking some imaginary lint off her cardigan. "I think we can all agree it's in our best interests to overlook that part. Do come with me, Mrs. Higby, I believe we have some things to discuss. Have you told your parents the good news?"
She slides an arm over Tammy's shoulder and directs her down the hall, completely ignoring the three of them.
"Dodged a bullet," Zayn says. Both boys squeeze his hands.
They head to Niall and Harry's room, spreading out on the fluffy rug by the fireplace. Niall gets his laptop and puts on a show.
Liam wrinkles his nose. "The Kardashians?"
"Ssh," Niall and Zayn say in unison.
"Are Harry and Louis coming," Liam wants to know.
"In a manner of speaking," Zayn replies and Niall laughs. "Don't think they'll be around for some time."
They watch the first episode but Zayn can't get into it, keeps being distracted by Liam. He's not watching, instead keeps looking at them and it makes Zayn squirm.
He keeps replaying his conversation with Harry. Personally, he doesn't think he'd been all that subtle when coming on to Liam, but he has to admit that he's probably not the best person to judge that. It's true, he has very little experience from this side, and anyone hitting on him had been far more blunt and straightforward.
It's a bit disconcerting to find out at twenty-five that you really suck at flirting. But Liam makes him want to flirt, makes him want to try whatever it takes. He can't leave it half-arsed and wonder if it could have been something.
He waits until Niall heads for the loo before making his move.
He moves to sit on his knees, facing Liam. Their eyes lock and yeah, there is definitely something there. He brings his hand up slowly, like he's afraid Liam will startle at too fast of a movement. It comes to rest on Liam's chest, and he can feel the muscles there, but also his heartbeat and the warmth from his body.
He leans in slowly until their lips brush, jolts at the small current of electricity, like he had forgotten all about it.
He watches Liam close his eyes, Liam's hand sliding from his shoulder to the back of his head. Liam isn't pulling him closer, his hand just rests there, big and warm. It's nice, and so is the kiss; almost innocent but with something simmering beneath, something Zayn desperately wants to explore.
Instead, he hears Liam say, almost apologetically, "I kissed Niall in Edinburgh."
Zayn pulls back, staring at him.
"Sorry," Liam mumbles. "I just thought it was important to get that out there rather sooner than later."
He's not really sure what to say. His mind is completely empty, like all his thoughts have been sucked out of it with Liam's words. "I don't understand."
Liam's ears turn pink, and Niall chooses that moment to come back into the room. He looks at their position for a moment. "Ready for the next episode?"
Zayn sits back on his haunches, looking at him. "You kissed Liam?"
Niall nods, opening a packet of crisps. "Yep. Want some?"
Zayn leans back further, like the packet held out to him is actually something rank. "Are you two dating?"
Niall looks at him as though he's lost his marbles, while Liam is still staring at his own knees. "Because of a kiss? No. Also, I like to keep it casual until I bond." He crunches down on several crisps, sighing happily.
And all of a sudden all the thoughts are back in his head. Confusion mostly, some hints of jealousy and something else. Zayn tries to make sense of it all. Of course neither of them is looking for something real. They're all secretly romantics at heart, he is sure of that. So neither of them wants a soulmate just for the sake of being bonded. They want to be with their soulmate, want a proper relationship. And since they aren't each other's soulmates, it stands to reason that whatever they might have, won't be serious. Can't be. It's that thought that unsettles him most of all, and he tries to suppress it as best as he can. It can't be changed, and Zayn has stopped worrying about things he can't change a long time ago. He's not going to start now.
He's ripped out of his thoughts when Niall sighs, drops the packet of crisps in Liam's lap and leans in to kiss Zayn. He's not mucking about either, and his tongue is in Zayn's mouth before Zayn even knows what's happening. He tastes of salt and of Niall. It's nice. And really fucking confusing.
"What are you doing," Liam squeaks, looking at them with wide eyes.
Niall pulls back, grabbing the crisps out of his slack hands. "Well, you two obviously just kissed and apparently it got awkward because you told Zayn that the two of us have also kissed. So I kissed him to make it all less awkward. Now can we watch the next episode?"
"Less awkward? Don't you think snogging me out of the blue might have the opposite effect?"
Niall shrugs. "Wanted to do that for a while, wasn't about to let the opportunity pass, was I?"
"I--you--what?"
Niall pats his knee and turns to his laptop, starting the next episode. "You two figure out what you need to, but if you're gonna talk be quiet or go into the bedroom. Oh, and if you have sex let me know, I'll pause the episode and join you."
Zayn is just sitting there, staring at Niall who, without a care in the world continues watching the TV show. Liam doesn't look much better, only he's probably blushing more. He turns back to Niall, who is crunching again, fingers coated in crumbs.
"You're insane," Zayn tells him.
Niall raises an eyebrow. "I'm not the one fretting about this. You aren't my soulmate, neither is Liam. That's a pity, it really is. But that doesn't change the fact I'm attracted to you, both of you, and what I usually want to do with people I'm attracted to is get them naked, so. Just putting that out there."
"But don't you think that this thing, this whole big mess between us--us five, is wrong?"
Niall turns back to his show. "Does it feel wrong?"
Sex with Louis is like nothing Harry ever imagined. He's been aware of the fact that he likes things a little differently from the average guy on the street. He likes having his hair pulled past the normal point of pleasure and pain, likes a gruff voice in his ear telling him what to do. And he's had sex like that before, mostly with random people he'd just met and it didn't go much further than the one night, so he never really got a chance to delve in deep, see where his lines are drawn.
He'd tried talking to Niall about it once, but it just got kind of awkward so he'd dropped the subject. Later, when he thought about it, he decided that that's just not who they were. Niall is easy-going, always up for a laugh and likes to cuddle. It would actually be weird if he suddenly snapped at Harry, and they'd both end up laughing about it.
But sometimes, Harry needs something for that itch under his skin and, looking back on it now, he's made some very bad decisions while chasing that feeling, going home with exactly the wrong kind of guy and only getting out of it unscathed because of luck and his penchant to actually like a little roughness.
With Louis, it's different. Louis isn't big and muscled and more powerful than he is. He doesn't scare him, not physically. But Louis has that tone of voice, sharply clipped words that have him whimpering, because he might be smaller, but he's also more controlled. At first, Louis might seem carefree and reckless but if you look closely, he's anything but. He still strives in chaos, enjoys it and actively searches for it. More often than not he instigates it himself. But he is always in control of himself in these situations. There's no losing himself in his own thoughts like Harry is prone to, there's no being swept up by the emotions around him. It's like he is the center of the storm, calm and collected while everything around him collapses. That control, when he extends it to Harry, is like a blanket, one that immediately calms his racing thoughts, that pulls him in from the storm and suddenly he's right there at the center with Louis, chaos around them while their hair hardly moves in the gentle breeze.
Before Louis, he hadn't known that part of himself, hadn't known how much he yearned for it. Hadn't even known that it had a proper name and that many people practiced it.
But now that he knows, now that he can identify the signs in himself when it's all getting too much, when his skin feels too tight and he loses himself in his thoughts, now he needs it. Needs to go to that calm space in his mind until the chaos that is his thoughts has calmed down enough, or until he's recharged enough to handle it.
And this thing with Louis, it had always been casual, of course. They weren't bonded, so sooner or later one of them would stumble across their soulmate and they'd have to stop. Harry is well aware of this, has been since the beginning.
So when Louis tells them they can't keep having sex, Harry feels the immediate pang of loss, for Louis, for what they have, but he understands. He tries to argue that they could continue until one of them sparks, but Louis won't be swayed, and eventually Harry has to accept that.
He hadn't been deluding himself since this started, knew for a fact that it would only be temporary. Problem is, he'd forgotten to calculate his own need into that equation.
Louis had shown him how to channel his thoughts, how to pull himself out of that state of mind. Louis had shown him that place, subspace, Harry reminds himself--because Louis had been adamant about using the proper terminology--where he was so utterly free.
But unintentionally, Louis took the means of reaching that with him, and Harry has been feeling that itch under his skin for days, and he doesn't know what to do about it. His thoughts keep circling, over and over again, and it's driving him mental.
He calls Louis and begs him, begs him for just one more time, but Louis doesn't scold him, doesn't tell him to shut up, doesn't tell him a strict ‘no’, probably because he knows that's exactly what Harry is looking for.
"I'm sorry, Harry," he says in a soft, gentle voice. It's not that Harry hasn't heard him using it before, Louis isn't mean, not outside the bedroom, not outside of when they're playing. But it's exactly what Harry doesn’t want from him right now and he thinks he might cry because of it. "I don't think it's a good idea."
Harry pleads with him some more but Louis doesn't budge. Eventually Harry hangs up, defeated and frustrated and hating his own thoughts, hating himself for not being able to control the storm in his mind.
He tries to ignore it, he really does. He focuses on the soulmeet he attends with Niall that night, talks and laughs with a lot of strangers, flirts and makes new friends. And it's good, it's fun.
But he curls up in bed alone that night, because Niall decided to go out for another round of drinks at the pub with Liam but Harry can't, doesn't want to see Louis, thinks he might snap with temptation so close while knowing he can't have it.
A few days later he manages to convince both Niall and Liam to head over to the next town. The university is there and the nightlife caters to it, enough bars and nightclubs to choose from that they find one they agree on, even without the two locals that usually join them. Not that Harry cares, he just wants something new, a change of scenery, wants external factors to overwhelm him so he doesn't have to focus on the internal ones anymore.
He quickly downs three shots at the bar, not because he wants to be drunk but because he needs the sharp edges dulled.
He's on the dance floor, grinding into a girl in front of him while strong male arms guide his hips from behind, when he spots Zayn. He's hard to miss even in a place like this, easily the most stunning person here, though he tries to hide it behind his fierce scowl and leather jacket. He's waving at Niall and Liam, drops his cigarette and squashes it under his combat boot.
Harry leans his head back on the guy's shoulder, closing his eyes, still seeing Zayn in his minds eye, beautiful and unapproachable. He smiles, because he knows Zayn better than anyone here and he likes that, likes that feeling a lot, could go up to him at any point.
Fingers ghost over his hip then, up to his stomach and dragging his shirt for a moment, bumping into the girls breast where she's still plastered against Harry's front. The hand moves higher, over his collarbones and comes to rest on his exposed neck, where it's stretched long from still having his head back on the guys shoulder.
The fingers around his neck tighten, only slightly, but Harry moans, bucks back against him. He can feel the music in his veins now, his blood pumping to the beat and it only intensifies when the fingers press down hard, encouraged by his response.
The other hand is suddenly over his crotch, palming his erection there. "Pliant little thing, aren't you?" It's almost shouted, because it's difficult to hear anything over the loud music and some of the tone of voice gets lost, but it's still enough, enough to feel himself slipping.
He's been wound so tight for so long, so maybe it shouldn't surprise him, and he feels safe here. Not because of the guy behind him, because he doesn't even know his name, but he knows Niall is here, and Liam, and now Zayn, too. And somehow it's enough for him to relax, to lean back into the chest that is too big, too wide and too muscular and just let himself go a little bit more. And it's fine, it's okay he tells himself, he only needs a little bit, just enough for the storm to simmer down to a strong wind.
The pressure on his cock increases and the heat from the girl in front of him vanishes completely, but he can't be bothered with that right now, because the grip on his throat tightens and suddenly he can't breathe and his cock jumps against the strangers hand, who just chuckles lowly into his ear before easing up, hand moving higher until two fingers push into his mouth and Harry takes them, eagerly.
"Want to come out back with me? Pretty sure I have something you might like."
"Yeah," he says because he's at that stage where that's going to be the answer no matter what, as long as he gets to stay here a little longer, maybe slip deeper, all the way under.
He's not very coordinated on their way outside, and the guy seems to realise that, helps him walk and steers him with a firm grip.
"Pretty wasted, aren't you?"
He's not. He only had three shots and while he's tipsy, maybe drunk, he can also hold his liquor. That's not what has his mind fuzzy, that's not what has him tripping over his own feet. But he doesn't want to explain, all he wants is to come, because he knows once he does, his thoughts won't be fuzzy anymore, won't be whirling uncontrollably in his mind. It'll all be clear and peaceful and calm.
He's pushed face-first against a brick wall, behind a dumpster that only marginally hides them out of sight. It's cold out, the first snow having fallen a few days ago. Most of it has melted away but it's left behind a nippiness to the air that has him shivering for a moment, his head still spinning from the music inside, from the beat still in his veins.
But then the guy is behind him again, chest blanketing his back, crotch pressed against his arse. It doesn't feel right, not out here in the open, not with the rough hands on him now, pushing under his shirt to scratch at his stomach, to pull him hard against that erection. Harry closes his eyes, wills those thoughts to stop, concentrates instead on nothing at all, like he's willing that peace of mind to come to him.
There are hands on his arse now, and Harry doesn't mind their roughness, is only jarred because they're too big, the fingers to thick where they grab onto one jeans covered cheek. "Gonna fuck you, yeah?"
Before he can answer two finger are back in his mouth, the other hand fumbling with the front of his jeans. Something surfaces in his mind then, something he needs to consider and it unbalances him further, pulls him further away from where he wants to be. He isn't used to thinking right now, to be the voice of reason. That's the exact opposite of what he wants. But he still hears himself ask, "condom? Lube?"
There's another chuckle and then his jeans are finally open. "Got one of them lubed condoms right here, princess. And you'll be providing all the lube we need." He shoves his fingers further into Harry's mouth to underline his point, then he presses them down on the back of his tongue. Harry doesn't have that much of a gag reflex, he doesn't, but he still chokes, tries to pull back.
"If I wasn't about to fuck your little arse, I'd have you on your knees in front of me. You have a mouth made for cocksucking, anyone ever tell you that?"
Suddenly, the guy is gone. His fingers ripped out of Harry's mouth and he has to take a few deep breaths, blink away the tears that had accumulated while he'd tried not to gag.
"What the fuck?" The guy shouts from where he's landed in the sludge next to Harry. He must have hit the back of his head going down because he's palming his own head. "Do you have a fucking death wish?"
Harry doesn't know what's going on, or why the guy is yelling at him.
"I don't," a familiar voice says, "but apparently Harry does."
He turns to face Louis, still confused but not caring. Louis looks livid, glaring daggers at the guy who is slowly trying to get up.
"You're gonna pay for my clothes," he pulls his hand away from his head and looks at the stained fingertips. "You made me bleed, you little bitch."
"Now now," says a third voice, one Harry doesn't know. It's one of the bouncers from the club and he's moving between Louis and the guy who's picking himself up off the floor.
"Time to leave," Louis says and grabs Harry's arm. There are more shouts coming from behind them now, but no footsteps follow. Some clubgoers have turned into curious onlookers, stretching their necks to find the source of the furious swearing, eyes gliding over Harry and Louis.
Louis throws a look over his shoulder, "you okay?" he asks tersely, gaze sweeping down Harry's body. He rolls his eyes when he sees Harry's undone jeans, and while his erection has mostly gone down, it must still look indecent enough because Louis pulls Harry against his back to hide that fact. "I asked you a question."
And that's exactly the tone of voice Harry had been longing for, only not here, not like this. "Yes," he mumbles, feeling shame creeping in now. "You didn't have to rescue me."
"I didn't have to--," Louis breaks off, apparently too offended to finish that sentence. "You're a fucking idiot, do you know that?"
He's still pulling him through the few people out front, keeping Harry close to his back while fumbling with his phone.
"I just wanted...," Harry shrugs. "You know."
They turn the corner and there's a parking lot there, mostly empty. Louis whirls around. Harry has never seen him this angry, this honest to god livid. His eyes are flashing and his mouth is a thin line while he roughly yanks his fingers through his hair. Whatever he's doing is apparently not working, because he shoves Harry, hard, then steadies him the next moment to keep him from landing arse first on the ground.
"Oh I know," he snarls and drags Harry through the rows of cars. "I know exactly what you were looking for and let me tell you one thing."
He shoves him hard against a car, fumbling in his pocket for keys which he jams into the door of the beat up old car.
"You're not going to find it in the alley behind a club, you fucking idiot."
Harry looks at his shoes and smiles softly. "You already said that," he tries.
Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. The streetlamps hardly reach here, but he's pretty sure that Louis's face is turning red in anger. He fixes Harry with a long, unblinking stare. "Get. In."
Harry does as he's told and uses the time it takes Louis to walk around to the drivers side to do up his jeans. Then he's sitting in this piece-of-shit car that doesn't even have central locking, waiting for Louis to unlock the drivers side and swearing creatively when he drops his keys.
All of a sudden his choices tonight seem like a really bad idea. Was he really just about to let some random dude fuck him in an alleyway, just to chase a feeling? Harry cringes at himself. Louis is right, he really is a fucking idiot.
"Sorry," is the first thing he say when Louis finally climbs inside the car.
He grips the steering wheel tightly for several seconds, his knuckles white even in the near darkness. He puts the keys in the ignition but doesn't turn them, instead he looks at Harry. He still looks angry, but there's something else in his eyes as well. "Don't do it again. Promise."
Harry's mouth is already open, quick to comply but he snaps it shut. He's not going to promise something he can't keep, not to Louis. Instead he turns in his seat, one knee up on the seat to look at Louis fully. He looks at his hands for a moment, where they're twisting in his lap. "I don't think I can do that," he says in a low voice.
Louis stiffens beside him. "What?"
Harry shrugs. "It's just that, you know. I don't want to promise something I can't keep. And today, I was...," he trails off, looking out the window over the sea of cars beyond, intersperses with random people heading home. He hates how difficult it is to find the right words for this. He tries again. "Today was a bad day. I just. I needed it. I was driving myself insane."
"Harry," Louis starts and his voice almost cracks. Harry wants to hug him, wants to curl up next to him and not think about anything. "You're into BDSM. What you need is not a quick fuck. It's definitely not a quick fuck that puts you on edge because something about it scares you. What you did tonight was reckless, you could have really gotten hurt."
Harry holds his gaze for only a second before looking down at his fingers again. It's not in--it's not in submission, there he can at least think it if he can't say it, it's because he knows Louis is right and he feels ashamed for what he did.
Gentle fingers under his chin tip his head back, until he has no choice but to look at Louis.
"Please, Harry. Please promise me you won't be this reckless again." Louis sounds small, and more than the shame for his bad decisions tonight, Harry hates himself for making him sound like that. Louis should never sound like that. "I can-- I can give you some addresses, introduce you to a few people. They know how to play safe, okay?"
He doesn't want that, he realises. He doesn't want some nameless, faceless guy like tonight, even if they give him what he needs and he's safe throughout.
The tears slip out almost without him noticing, but Louis wipes them away gently while waiting for an answer.
And Harry nods, more tears welling up, because the only one he wants for this is the person who doesn't want him back, just another person he thought would be the one but didn't bond with him, the one hugging him close now, holding him tight until he's too exhausted to cry.
###
In the days that follow, he doesn't ask Louis for the names or addresses he offered, doesn't take them when Louis comes to him with the information.
Louis makes him promise to tell him once he needs them, though, and he does. He does promise it, though he vows to never take Louis up on that offer.
Instead, he keeps himself busy. He attends every soulmeet religiously, even the ones an hours bus ride away, the ones where almost everyone, including Niall, beg out of because they inevitably end up in some small town, shaking hands with thirty people and the awkward small talk afterwards. He doesn't care. He makes it his mission to make everyone comfortable, draw their attention to him instead of the awkwardness and it helps. Not much, but it's enough.
There's not a single instance where he's watching a movie with Niall late at night where he doesn't make Niall cuddle him close, not that it takes much convincing. In the afternoons when there's nothing else scheduled and everyone is off doing their own thing, he helps Paul, mowing the lawns, trimming hedges and pruning rose bushes. On those days he falls into bed so exhausted he doesn't even have enough time to finish thinking his first thought before he's fast asleep. It's not optimal, but it helps. He's not scratching at his skin from the inside, not trying to claw himself free. And maybe it will get better, return to the way it was before.
The best and worst is when they all end up at Louis and Zayn's place. These days, it's not even uncommon for Liam, Niall and himself to end up there more than three times a week. It's like they all gravitate towards each other, enjoy each other's company.
Even the bickering seems right, and somehow, he can breathe easiest here, when they're all wedged onto the big sofa, though not really big enough for five. When he has Zayn's knobbly knee digging into his back, or Niall's arm slung around his shoulder or Liam's strong chest against him back; that's when he can close his eyes and for a few blissful seconds, everything calms inside him. It doesn't last, not until Louis comes back from the kitchen with beers or popcorn or pizza. Not until Louis sits down and Harry curls up into him, drags Louis' arm over his shoulder and makes himself small. He holds himself still, just in case Louis notices what he's doing and pushes him away.
Instead he places his cheek against Louis shoulder, face buried in his neck. He doesn't watch the movie, not really. Instead he breathes Louis in, closes his eyes and thinks back on how it felt when Louis held him down or told him what to do. And then, finally, the chatter in his mind subsides and he can breathe fully again, really breathe and calm himself, ready himself for the upcoming day. It's not the same, more like a temporary fix, but Harry will take it, take it because it's from Lou, because it's from someone he wants this from.
Louis must notice what he's doing, he's sure of it, but as long as he doesn't draw attention to it Louis seems content with ignoring it for now.
It's a Saturday late in November and he's just finished a morning run with Liam when they come by the cottage and decide to drop in.
Liam wipes the sweat from his forehead and looks down at his watch. "Not sure if they're up yet, it's only ten." When the boys work the late shift at the pub, they come home at just past three, so they hardly ever get up before eleven then.
Harry shrugs. "Either way, I want a shower. The water pressure here is much better. Oh and real coffee."
Liam looks at him dubiously. "How'd you convince Louis of the coffee machine, anyway?"
"I outsourced," Harry replies while hopping over the little frog sculpture at the front of the walkway leading up to the front door. At Liam's confused look, he continues, "I bought one and asked Zayn if I could hide it in his studio. Then I kept making him cup after cup. Now he loves it, too and he's brought it up into the kitchen."
Liam fishes the key out from its hiding spot, stuck in the earth under a heart shaped rock. He wipes the dirt off before unlocking the door and returning the key to its original place. They take their shoes off and leave them by the entrance. Before anyone trips and breaks their neck, Harry collects Louis' shoes where he's dropped them all willy nilly again, and arranges them next to the ones lined up by the front door.
Potential death traps dealt with, they head to the kitchen first. "Make me a coffee, too?" Liam asks. His hand is on Harry's shoulder, big and solid and warm.
Harry swallows. "Sure," he says and watches him grab a fresh towel from the linen closet before disappearing in the downstairs bathroom. The shower starts up just when Harry is measuring the coffee into the machine.
"Mornin'."
Harry whirls around, almost scattering the ground coffee beans everywhere. "God, you scared me half to death."
Louis pulls a face when he spots the coffee machine, but he doesn't say anything apart from, "you should make me tea if you're in my house."
Harry immediately drops the coffee onto the counter and heads over to the cupboard that holds the tea, starting the kettle on his way.
"What you want?" He looks at Louis, all sleep warm and soft, standing in the middle of the kitchen and rubbing his eyes. Harry wants to kiss him, but maybe he'll just make him breakfast. He's pretty sure they have all the ingredients for blueberry pancakes.
"Earl Gray," Louis says around a yawn.
Harry nods and retrieves the appropriate tea bag from the box. He almost drops it, when a guy walks into the kitchen, wearing only boxers and a grin that reveals dimples.
Harry frowns, which turns into a scowl when the stranger slides his hands around Louis' middle and nuzzles his neck.
Louis freezes, expression shutting down completely. It'd be gratifying to see if Harry wasn't currently squashing the tea bag so hard in his fingers that the seam splits and the dried leaves start falling to the ground.
"Who the fuck is this," he asks in a deep, menacing voice.
Now it's the guys turn to freeze and look at him with wide eyes. He pulls back, standing behind Louis. He has to lean down to get close to Louis' ear, "do you have a boyfriend?"
"No," Louis says.
Their eyes flicker back to him, where he's still rooted to the spot, making it rain tea.
"You sure about that?"
Louis turns then, pissed now because he hasn't had his morning tea and that has him cranky even before anyone talks to him. "Look mate, you need to leave now, okay? Go gather your stuff and I'll call you a taxi."
Louis is not even using his stern voice, Harry should know, but the guy nods and disappears. Louis snatches Zayn's phone from the table and calls a cab, all the while studiously ignoring him.
He's still rooted to the spot, stomach churning with jealousy while trying to control himself, to think about this rationally.
Louis is not in a relationship, he's a consenting adult and he's still looking for his soulmate. All valid reasons for casual sex. He's young, he's single and he has a healthy sex drive. More reasons for casual sex. And the guy was good looking, Harry could acknowledge that. Tall and slightly muscled, defined abs, a cheeky grin and a mop of dark hair. He'd looked friendly. Nice, even.
In short, he'd looked like Harry.
Harry wonders if Louis fucked him while he was gripping the headboard for dear life, fucked him until he begged to come. And then suddenly he's in Louis' face, can't even remember moving, because suddenly the only thing that seems important is coursing through him, like a shard of glass traveling through his veins, going from organ to organ, cutting and slicing, leaving pain in its wake only to move one to the next.
"Did you dom him," he demands, question ripped from him. When the answer isn't fast enough, he steps closer, eyes wide and fingers curled tightly around delicate wrists. "Louis?"
Louis looks at him for a moment longer, then he raises one hand, arches his eyebrow until Harry releases his death like grip. Louis' expression softens and he drags his fingertips over Harry's brow, trails them down his cheek.
"No."
Harry slumps forward, practically crashing into Louis, who staggers but manages to keep them both from toppling to the ground. Harry buries his nose in Louis' neck and takes a deep, calming breath. And another. "Okay," he whispers because he's sure he might cry or scream if he says it louder.
They both hear the creak from the second stair, the one they all know to avoid because no matter how you step on it, it will always make a sound. They pull apart, Louis' hands cupping his face softly for a moment. A look of pain flits over his face, gone so quickly Harry isn't quite sure if maybe he imagined it. But Louis nods to himself and pulls away.
"I'll be right back, wait here."
Harry doesn't. Instead he follows him out in the hallway and watches the quick goodbye, Louis explaining where the cab will wait, up by the main road because they never find the driveway.
The guy leans in for a kiss but Louis takes a step back, crosses his arms before his chest. "You should go now."
The guy shrugs, all good-naturedly and leans in for a quick hug instead. He presses a kiss to Louis cheek and slides a little folded paper into the back pocket of his trackies. "Call me anytime, okay?"
Louis nods and opens the front door.
Harry returns to the kitchen then, starting the kettle up again and retrieving another tea bag. He'll have to get the little dustpan from under the sink in a minute and clean up the mess of tea leaves from the floor.
When Louis returns to the kitchen, Harry walks right over to him, standing close. He's holding himself stiff and upright, glaring down at Louis who doesn't look all that impressed. Harry places his hand onto Louis belly, slowly slides it down, back over his hip and further down. He fishes the note out from Louis' track suit bottoms and holds it up in front of Louis' nose.
"I'll just be throwing this out then, shall I?"
Louis shrugs, like it doesn't matter one way or another. "If you want."
Harry bares his teeth in something that at least resembles a smile and rips the paper into tiny, tiny little pieces. Then he twists and throws it into the trash can under the sink.
Louis hardly manages to contain his smirk. "Feel better?"
"Yes," Harry snaps before returning to making the tea and coffee.
He's just bent down, dusting up the tea leaves when Zayn stumbles into the kitchen.
"Why is Liam showering here?" He's mumbling, still half asleep as he slides his arms around Louis from behind and presses a quick kiss to where his neck meets his shoulder. Louis stiffens, eyes fixed on Harry, like he's about to explode again. "Morning, babe."
Harry addresses Zayn from where he's still crouched on the floor. "We stopped here after our jog."
Zayn startles a bit. "Didn't see you there."
Harry goes to stow away the dustpan again before reaching for four cups and aligning them on the countertop. Thin, wiry arms encircle him and he, too, gets a kiss on his neck.
"Morning, babe," Zayn says, voice muffled by Harry's skin. "Are you making me coffee?"
Harry twists around enough to kiss his cheek. "Morning. And yes."
Zayn sighs, draping himself more firmly over his back. It makes preparing the drinks more difficult, but Harry doesn't really mind. "'S why you are my favourite."
"Yeah?"
Zayn nods against his shoulder vigorously. "Definitely."
He pats the tattooed arms where they're slung around his shoulder. "You're my favourite, too."
Harry turns slowly so he doesn't spill their coffee and shuffles over to the table, Zayn still hanging off him.
He meets Louis' raised eyebrow and returns it with one of his own. "Your tea should be ready in five minutes. It's over there," he says curtly and sits down, pulling Zayn into the seat next to him. He's making grabby hands, and Harry passes him his mug, the one with the Batman logo on, even though it's still too hot to drink.
Zayn just curls his long finger around the ceramic and pulls one leg up on the chair so he can rest his chin on it. He smiles at Harry dopily before wrinkling his nose. "I think there's something wrong with you."
Louis snorts loudly and Harry just glares at him.
"'S not natural, you know. All this running about in the middle of the night. Will probably kill you."
"It's good for the heart, actually," Liam says, walking into the kitchen with only a towel slung low around his hips. He isn't sure if Liam is aware of it, but three sets of eyes roam over his naked, still slightly damp torso. Damn, Liam looks good without a shirt. "You should try it."
Zayn makes a horrible noise, sort of like a dying seagull, his eyes on Liam’s shoulders while he moves across the kitchen. He picks up the last mug with coffee in it. "This one mine?"
"Yeah," Harry says.
Liam smiles at him, all happy and genuine and wonderful. "Thanks!"
Warmth rushed through him and Harry has to look away, down at his coffee and its perfectly flat surface.
"You're welcome," he says.
December
Somehow, he ends up with his head in Louis' lap, who is gently carding his fingers through his hair. Louis can be incredibly gentle and Harry feels a certain sense of pride when he sees Louis being even more gentle with him than with anyone else, like he's precious, something to be cherished.
He'd love to stay here all day and feel Louis' hands in his hair, his fingers ghosting over his face. But he can't feel content right now, not when Niall is leaving. Instead he buries his head against Louis' stomach and tries to remember how to breathe.
The thing is, Harry hasn't been separated from Niall for more than a few days since they met. But Niall's parents have planned this whole thing out, dragging Niall through the country and if that doesn't yield any results, they have a tour of Europe set up as well. And Harry knows, should that not uncover Niall's soulmate, then they'll take on the rest of the world, too. He can't even fault them, not really. Not when they want the best for Niall.
Sure, they all live in a world where you are destined for someone else. They are born with the soulmark to make identifying that special someone easier, and maybe it acts as a sort of motivation, too. They feel the soulspark, so if they stumble across their other half at an inappropriate time or place, they know, but don't have to act on it. They are just aware. Aware of the fact that this is it. This is the one. Then, sex bonds them eternally, establishes a link that many try to explain, but Harry can't really comprehend. Of course it's different for everyone. They are given all these clues and strong pairs to guide them, too.
But everyone knows that, fate or not, your soulmate will not drop into your lap. The fates will almost never make you meet while doing mundane stuff, like grocery shopping. Sometimes, it happens, of course, but it's a rare thing. A nice story, but still a statistical improbability.
No, you have to work for it. You have to get out of your comfort zone and start searching. And Harry gets that, he lives by that.
And yet something twists in his stomach when he thinks about Niall leaving him. Tears well up, as they have for the past hour, and he hides his face and cries some more.
Louis looks wrecked himself, that gorgeous, mischievous glint in his eyes dimmed. He looks gaunt, cheekbones too sharp and expression too dull.
"You'll be fine, Harry."
Harry shakes his head petulantly. "I won't. I don't want to."
Louis sags further into the sofa. "I know it feels shit, trust me, I know. But maybe that's exactly what he needs to do, you know? Maybe that's how he'll find his soulmate.
Harry is crying again, loud, unflattering. Of course he knows that. He just wants Niall here with him. He wants to be selfish, wants his best friend with him, not off in some foreign country. It's not that he doesn't want Niall to find his soulmate, because of course he does. He just wants them to find their soulmates together, wants them together, like they have been for so many years.
"I'll miss him so much, Lou, you have no idea." His voice cracks and he has to stop himself from blubbering on.
Louis looks devastated, fists his fingers in Harry's hair. "I know, baby, I know. If someone took Zayn away I--I mean I don't know what I would do. Go mental, probably. Or berserk. And I'm so, so sorry you have to go through this. You know I'll miss him desperately, too, but I get that it's different for you. I get that, and I'm sorry. But if that's how he finds his soulmate, then we have to let him go."
Harry wants to answer, agree with Louis, because he's right. Disagree with Louis, because he wants Niall here, next to him, where he belongs. Wants to explain, put into words that feeling he's had since hearing the news. That feeling of wrongness.
He doesn't. Instead, he cries some more. Cries until he's empty and exhausted. And then he lets Louis lead him up to his bed, lets him bundle him up and falls asleep while still clutching Louis to him, even though he's promised he won't go anywhere.
He wakes up from a fitful dream and his throat is parched.
Louis is sitting propped up against the headboard, book in hand.
"Are you reading," he asks incredulously. His voice is raspy from all the crying.
Louis glares at him, while handing him a glass of water. "Shut up."
Harry sits up and downs the entire glass before putting it back on the bedside table himself, stretching over Louis.
He doesn't pull back, not all the way. Instead he keeps his face close to Louis' and squints at him.
"Are you wearing glasses?"
Louis' ears go a bit pink and he hurriedly yanks them off. "No."
Harry pouts and tries to snatch them away but Louis is wriggly when he wants to be.
"Are you flirting," Louis asks suddenly.
Harry leans back, just enough to see Louis without squinting. He lets the fingers of his free hand slide up Louis' torso, up to his collarbones where they're sticking out of the frayed edge of his shirt.
"I'm always flirting with you, Lou."
Louis strokes his cheek gently. "I really wish you wouldn't. Makes this so much harder."
Harry is trying not to blink or breathe or move lest he break the fragile thing they have going now. He's wanted to talk to Louis about why he really broke it off for weeks now, and he thinks that if he plays his cards right, this might just be the right time.
"Doesn't need to be hard. We're good together, Lou. There's no reason to deprive us, not if we both clearly want to."
Louis swallows thickly, a small noise escaping him. He closes his eyes, but not before Harry sees a flash of--what? Pain? Fear?
He scrambles to sit on his knees, cradling Louis' head between his hands. Louis leans into the touch but doesn't open his eyes.
"Tell me, Lou. Please, please tell me."
Louis shakes his head but Harry won't let him, grips him tighter. "I lied," Louis whispers eventually. "I lied to you."
"What about?"
Louis takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. They're red, brimming with tears and so full of pain that Harry almost topples back in shock.
"It's my birthday in three weeks," Louis says. Harry frowns, unsure what this has to do with anything, but he nods anyway. And then suddenly Louis is crying, no loud sobs like Harry, just silent tears rolling down his face. "I'm turning twenty-seven in three weeks."
It feels like the air was knocked out of him and Harry sits back, hands sliding from Louis' face.
"You lied about your age." It's not a question, but even if it were, the look in Louis' eyes would be enough to confirm it. In three weeks, Louis will lose his ability to ever form a soulbond. If he doesn't find his soulmate until then, he never will.
Harry's heart breaks and suddenly he's holding all the pieces and he doesn't know what to do with them.
"I don't want your pity," Louis says, wiping at his tears angrily. "I don't want anyone's pity. It is what it is."
Harry thinks of the new chest tattoo Louis got only recently and his own chest constricts. No. He's not going to let this happen. "Have you tried--"
"Yes, I have, trust me. Regardless of what you're about to say, trust me, I have tried it. Maybe I don't have a soulmate, maybe there is no match for me." He shrugs, but it's not as nonchalant as he'd probably want it to be.
"That's bullshit," Harry says, fiercely. He can feel the anger bubbling up inside him. Not at Louis, not for lying. It's frustration at the defeated slump of Louis' shoulders, like he's accepted it and is no longer trying.
"Maybe," Louis agrees without conviction. "I don't really want to talk about it right now."
Harry gapes at him. He bites back the sarcastic question of when Louis would like to talk about it, after his birthday?
Louis is an idiot and his best friend is leaving him. Harry would cry, if he though he still could. But there's so much inside of him, so much rage and anger and pain that he doesn't know what to do with it.
"Fine," he snaps and gets up and off the bed. "Fine, whatever."
He doesn't look at Louis, pretty sure he can't handle it, regardless of what expression is on his face right now. He stomps over to Zayn's room. He's sleeping curled up right at the edge of his bed, leaving two thirds of the space empty.
Harry shakes him awake, and he's not even gentle about it.
"What?" Zayn snaps in a tone Harry has never heard him use before. Whatever. Whatever.
"Get up."
Something dangerous flashes in Zayn's eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Well shit," Harry mumbles while pulling back the comforter. "You don't much like being woken up, do you? Now go get up and sleep with Louis. He's being a fucking dick, and I need to walk this off."
Zayn doesn't look like he's inclined to agree. In fact, he looks like he's about to throttle Harry.
"Look," Harry snaps. He doesn't get angry often, not like this. He gets pouty and whiney, usually. "He just told me how old he really is and I don't want the idiot to be alone. And I can't stay with him. Because he's being an idiot."
"Yeah," Zayn says. But he's finally swinging his legs out of bed. "You mentioned that."
Harry huffs and doesn't tell Zayn not to be a smart mouth. Instead he stomps out of the room and heads downstairs.
He's angry, he's hurt and he's emotional. He grabs a hoodie from where someone--no doubt Louis--discarded it near the front door. Then he pulls on his trainers and heads outside.
The stars are out in their millions, no clouds or bright city lights to obscure them. The air is cold, maybe too much so, but he doesn't care. He checks the ground, but there's no frost, even though his breath comes out in a cloud each time he breathes out. Whatever. He wants to run. Run until his calves hurt and his thighs burn, until he's gulping in breath, until there's a stitch in his side. He needs to run. So that's exactly what he does.
Apparently, Harry is seriously pissed off.
He doesn't get like this often, and Niall should know, he spends most of his time with Harry. He's never been this angry with him, for which he is eternally grateful. Niall hates fighting, has been known to simply get up and leave the room when it occurs.
For the past half hour, he's been pacing their floor, mainly cursing Louis' bad judgement and lack of action.
Niall's usual tactics of distracting Harry haven't worked so far, either, and he's slowly running out of ideas. He hates when Harry gets into one of his moods, because he hates not being able to pull his best friend out of them. And it's not even the anger, generally it's more about sadness, it's just that Harry gets in so deep, gets lost in details that shouldn't matter and Niall can't follow him there, can't pull him back.
"Did you know he wanted to have sex with me, too?"
He--well shit. He didn't mean to say that. He didn't want to throw Louis under the bus like that, either.
"Did you," Harry asks and he's calm, nothing like the jealousy he'd been displaying when Louis, over and over again went home with some random guy.
"Nah," Niall assures him quickly. "I knew you liked him too much. Were all invested. Still are."
Harry smiles at his, but it's a pained smile. "I love you."
"I love you, too, you know that." He wonders if it's time for the hugging, yet. Harry is clingy at the best of times, but when he's angry, he needs his space, needs to stomp up and down. Until he's done, then he needs extra cuddles. But Harry is apparently still not done. He begins pacing again, so Niall clarifies, "he had his suspicions, you know? This was even before we met Liam. Because of our soulmarks and our weak sparks. He wanted to have sex with all of us, because he thought we might be a four way bond. Told me so while watching footie."
Harry snorts. "Four people? That's like, never happened before, that'd be insane. there are only three known triumvirates in the entire world. What even would be the name for a foursome? That's insane thinking."
"Yeah," Niall agrees. "Which is why he stopped pushing it after we met Liam, you know? What I'm trying to say is--I mean some of his choices are pretty bad, I know, I get that. But the guy entertained the idea of a four way bond. That's not someone who has given up. Grasping at straws, maybe, but he was definitely thinking about it a lot."
And just like that, the fight goes out of Harry. He hates fighting, hates being angry, probably more than Niall himself. His shoulders slump in defeat and he curls in on himself. Niall goes and touches his back, just a hand sliding over his stiff muscles. Harry immediately turns into him, demanding cuddles now.
"You know," Harry says after a long time. "Maybe he's right."
"Right about what?"
Harry sits up, excitement creeping back into his features. "About the bond, about having sex with you. Only he never expanded the idea. There aren't four. There are five. It would explain so much. Like how I'm totally at peace when the five of us are together. How we always end up together, in the first place. It would explain the soulmarks and the weak spark."
"Are you insane? A five way bond does not exist. Hell, a four way bond doesn't exist. You're insane if you think that's what's happening here.
Harry smiles, undeterred. "Look, whether or not it's true, what difference does it make? Louis is hot, and really good in bed. You get an orgasm out of it, and on the off chance that it is us five, the bond should manifest."
"Because Louis is a bit of a slut and has had sex with three of you already."
Harry smiles, and is he like, proud of that fact? "You wanted to claw out anyone's eyes when they got too close to Louis. How the hell are you so calm about this.”
Harry shrugs. "I don't know." His eyes brighten, "but even that makes sense, right? I don't feel jealous of the others in the bond, that would be dumb. Only of outsiders. I never minded him going off with Liam. Was kinda hot, actually. Same with hearing about him and Zayn."
Niall shakes his head. "This is insane. You are insane."
Harry grabs his hand and looks at him pleadingly. "Will you please have sex with Louis? Please?"
"Still standing by my last comment."
Harry pouts at him. Actually pouts at him. "Don't you want to have sex with him? He's really hot."
Niall doesn't have to think about that one. "Of course I do, it's just that--"
Harry claps his hands once. "It's settled then. Go on, call him."
"Harry, you do know this is sort of insane, yes?"
Harry shrugs. "Maybe. But if the bond does manifest, then the five of us don't have to worry about it anymore. Especially Louis. He only has three weeks left, Ni."
Niall sighs. It's not like it's a hardship, Louis is gorgeous, and Harry is persuasive. So he calls Louis.
They meet, they have sex. The bond doesn't manifest.
Harry's shitty day has turned into a shitty week.
He's trying to ignore it, trying to ignore the pain whenever he thinks about Niall leaving or about Louis' fate if he doesn't bond in the next two weeks.
It doesn't really work, of course.
He begs out of not one, but two soulmeets and curls up in his bed and sleeps for hours during the day. He eats whatever Niall brings him, because he can't stomach eating in the dining hall with hundreds of people around him laughing and shouting and being happy.
The only times he feels better is when the five of them all meet up, mostly at Louis and Zayn's place. Something in him just calms when they are together. Right now, they're marathoning Friends and for the first time in days it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest, like he can breathe again.
"Pass me that popcorn," Louis says to Liam, who is sprawled out on the floor after getting pushed off during a play fight.
Liam pops some in his mouth and crunches obnoxiously. "What's the magic word?"
"Pass me that popcorn, numbnuts."
Niall laughs and even Zayn cracks a smile. Liam just hugs the bowl to his chest, making sure to stay out of Louis' reach. "Well now you're definitely not getting any."
Louis kicks at him, which Liam dodges easily. "You're in my house, you can't hog the popcorn!"
Liam grins, cheekily, in a way he wouldn't have a few months ago. "I'm not hogging it. The others can have some. Only you don't get any, because you are rude."
Louis doesn't bother replying, instead he launches himself at Liam, who shrieks and just about manages to put the bowl on the side table before he has to fend off Louis' assault. This isn't really anything new, has happened almost every time they sit here together, because Liam and Louis rile each other up in weird ways.
But normally, Harry joins in, starts pushing Louis off or helps him pin Liam down, depending on who's the wronged party. It's usually Liam who gets his help, though there was one time where even Niall joined in and they held Liam down, while Zayn got a sharpie and started writing on him, little doodles all over his chest, neck and arms because of a slur against their tattoos. It was meant to be punishment, but Liam had sort of stop struggling within seconds and just watched them pass around the pen, watched it glide over his skin. Louis, of course, had drawn a lightning bolt down his side, excusing pulling Liam's shorts down indecently low by having to finish drawing.
After that, Liam hadn't gone to shower immediately, instead he'd decided to work outside in the garden, where he'd helped Zayn lay a new path. They spent the afternoon sitting on the porch with Liam lugging around huge stones and placing them wherever Zayn told him to. He hadn't put his shirt back on, instead he was wearing their marks with pride, kept poking at them and asking what they meant.
That night, Louis had fucked him twice, with a ferocity that had surprised them both, and left at least fifteen love bites on him. He'd only allowed Harry to come after fucking Louis to his third orgasm, too.
But that was back when they were still hooking up, when it was still warm out even though the summer was coming to an end. Back when Niall wasn't about to leave, back when he thought Louis still had over an entire year left. Back in the happy days.
Now, Harry can't join them on the floor, can't pick sides. They make him feel better, the four of them, but that still doesn't mean he's good. He can't join in the careless laughter, because nothing about this seems careless to him, nothing feels free.
The others must notice, because Louis sighs and stops pestering Liam, still half on top of him.
It's Zayn who breaks the silence. "The school is throwing out the old trampolines. Paul told me they're getting new ones next week. We should go up and grab one for the garden."
They all agree, because why not. Maybe it'll diffuse the tension, something they've never really experienced when staying at this place. They bundle up in their coats and scarves and gloves.
On the way, Louis repeatedly holds both his hands up in front of anyone who will listen.
"This is just wrong, don't you think," he asks Liam, looking at his mismatched gloves. One is, in fact, a glove, the other one a mitten.
Liam looks at it with a very critical eye. "Those are some pretty hetero gloves you're sporting there. Are you trying to tell us something?"
Louis splutters and holds up a middle finger with the hand not in the mitten. "Fuck me, who even are you?"
"Eh," says Liam all nonchalant. "Been there, done that."
Louis just gapes at him, actually gapes, eyes wide and jaw dropped. Liam grins happily, like he's proud of flustering Louis.
"You little shit." With that, Louis jumps on Liam's back.
Liam just readjusts and lets him. Harry has noticed that Liam is actually an incredibly affectionate person, he just doesn't really know how to be. When someone else initiates contact, it's easy and he always goes with it. In fact, he seems to get a thrill out of it, while it's just normal for the others.
Harry leans over and kisses Liam sloppily on the cheek.
"Hey," Louis complains immediately. "Don't distract him. What if he drops me?"
"You'll land softly," says Niall. "Your bum is pretty padded."
Louis twists around, almost unbalancing himself and Liam with the sudden move. "Are you calling me fat? Zayn is he calling me fat?"
Harry laughs. "I think he's calling your bum fat."
Louis hooks his chin over Liam's shoulder for balance and reaches back to pat his bum. "Oh. That's okay then." Harry smiles, as does everyone else. "I don't have to disinherit you then, Niall."
"Do you even know what that means," Liam throws in.
Louis bites his neck until Liam actually almost drops him. "Of course. Not everything has to always make sense, Lee-yum."
"Feeling and emotions, no. But a sentence? That should generally make sense."
Louis sighs and props both his elbows on Liam's shoulders, placing his chin in his hands. "Everyone's a critic."
They reach the edge of the schools property and as Paul had promised, there are five big, round outdoor trampolines there. They're rusted and the netting is sagging in the middle, some even with missing springs. They chose the one that looks the least beaten up and then, all five of them start carrying it back.
"Shouldn't we, like, disassemble this thing," Liam asks, his face slightly red in the lamplight from straining.
"Why," huffs out Zayn. He's opposite Harry, and all he can see is his quiff. "This too much for you?"
"That's rich, coming from the third smallest person here," Harry puts in. "You're not thinking of the little ones."
"Hey," comes the indignant shout from Niall. He sounds out of breath and Harry can't actually see him at all.
For a moment, the weight gets heavier. And then there's a loud, hard slap on his jeans clad arse. Harry's eyes go wide, and then, the trampoline feels slightly lighter again.
"Did you just slap my arse?"
"Who slapped your arse," Liam wants to know. He's craning his head, trying to peer over the edge.
"Liam," Harry snaps, adjusting his grip. "The person carrying most of this thing can not stop to look at any arse slapping."
Louis' cackling, which started several seconds ago, gets louder.
"Oh my god Louis, you are five years old," Zayn huffs, his quiff flopping dangerously.
That sends Niall into a fit of giggles so hard, he curls up, right there in the middle of the street, slapping the cold concrete.
"We've lost Niall," Harry tells the others.
Liam stops walking, so naturally everyone else does, too. "What? How?"
"Can we put this down," Louis whines and does just that.
They do get the thing to their place eventually, but it takes them almost one and a half hours. Even though it's cold out to the point of freezing, they are sweating. The trampoline wouldn't fit through the garden gate when they put it upright, so they had to heft it over the wooden fence. Which isn't all that high, only comes up to Harry's belly, but that thing suddenly weighed a ton. With a lot of swearing, mostly Louis and Niall, a lot of loud huffing by Liam, they finally managed. Now it's planted on a clear patch of grass just in front of the huge oak tree. It's stem is circled by LED lights which reach out to the branches as well, and it's enough light for them to see.
"Okay," Louis says and everyone turns to him. "I get the first upstairs shower, someone else take the downstairs one. You guys get pillows and sleeping bags and so on. Liam is probably a girl scout and knows how to build a fire, so he can do that." He turns on his feet and heads inside, and somehow, miraculously, everyone does what he told them to.
They take turns showering the sweat off and get clean clothes out of the boys' cupboards, then cover them up with their outer wear.
Liam did indeed get a small fire started and soon they're roasting marshmallows and sipping their beers, the mood from earlier completely gone. They're laughing now, making fun of each others grilling abilities and commenting on the size of their sticks.
Finally, it's like Harry can breathe again, and he wants to stay in this moment forever, just watch the flames illuminate the faces of the people he loves. He looks up at the sky right then, and snow begins to fall.
Harry smiles wide.
It stopped snowing, but it's still cold out even with all the layers Zayn is wearing. The others don't seem as cold, but that's probably because they're sipping their beers and Zayn doesn't want any. Instead he crawls onto the trampoline and starts rolling a joint.
Harry joins him moments later and watches his fingers. Zayn doesn't mind, not like he used to when he first started rolling, but then he's had a lot of practice since then. There is no fumbling, just the same old movements, index fingers extending to hold the weed into place, while his thumbs push up, roll the paper expertly. He licks the edge, throwing a quick grin at Harry who is still watching it avidly.
"Here, you light it. I'm just gonna make another 'cause Louis will be here in no time to ask for one."
While Harry lights up, Zayn quickly gets started on the second one. It doesn't take long, and by the time he's done, Liam is standing next to the trampoline, watching him, too, and taking a drag from Harry's joint.
Zayn holds up the second one. "Want that?"
Liam nods. "Louis sent me."
Zayn laughs. "I'm not surprised. What do I get for it?"
Liam's eyes darken and fuck, Zayn wants to see him like that, always. Slightly cocky, definitely flirty, and just completely irresistible. Liam beckons him closer and Zayn leans forward, legs still crossed, until he's face to face with Liam.
Liam's hand slides across the back of his head, underneath his beanie, where the hair is shaved off since his last visit to the barber. His fingers stroke the skin there, play over the tendons and follow them down his neck. His grips tightens there and Liam pulls him closer suddenly, mouths grazing and quickly turning into a searing kiss. Liam doesn't wait, just pushes his tongue forward and tightens his grip on Zayn's neck, leaving him no option but to open his mouth, let his tongue inside.
It slides over his teeth for a second before pushing deeper, searching for Zayn's tongue and pressing against it once found. And then they're sliding, tangling together and Zayn wants to gasp, wants to pull back and breathe but Liam's grip hasn't loosened and he can't.
A thrill runs up his spine and his dick definitely takes an interest because wow, Liam isn't usually like this, this demanding and forward, but fuck if it isn't the hottest thing ever.
Zayn whines and Liam pushes deeper, kiss getting rougher like he's been holding back but at the sound Zayn made, it's like something breaks. They keep it up, Zayn no longer trying to direct anything, just letting Liam's tongue do what it wants, lets Liam lure Zayn's tongue into his mouth, lets him suck on it until Zayn groans, fingers clutching him desperately closer.
"That a fair trade," Liam asks when he pulls back, lips looking raw and slick in the faint light.
Zayn just blinks at him, still dazed.
"Yeah," Harry croaks. They both look at him. He's sitting there, joint in his hand forgotten, jaw slack and eyes wide. He leans forward to take the newly rolled joint from Zayn and hands it to Liam, eyes still on them. "Yeah. Fuck. Zayn's gonna make you another one. You should come get that, soon."
Liam smiles at him, then at Zayn, genuinely giddy by how flabbergasted they both are. He's probably trying to kill them. "I will," he promises and leaves them staring after him in confusion.
"Well, fuck," Harry moans. "That was better than most of the porn I've ever seen."
Zayn wants to answer, wants to say something but all he does is reach up and feel his lips. They're still tingling.
Harry shakes himself and lights the joint again. It must have gone out while staring at Liam and Zayn. He takes a small drag and hands it to Zayn, who immediately brings it to his lips.
After three drags, he feels up to talking again. "Well, fuck."
Harry makes a loud noise, not really a laugh but funny as hell, regardless. "Think that's what it was leading up to, yeah."
They lie back on the mounds of pillows and pass the joint back and forth until it's done and Zayn flicks it over the edge and watches it sizzle in the sludgy snow for a second. He'll pick it up tomorrow.
Then he turns back to Harry and shivers, even as Harry drags a sleeping bag over them.
"You good?"
Zayn nods. "Will be in a sec."
"So," Harry says, apropos of nothing. "You do that a lot? With Liam?"
Zayn turns onto his back to better see the star filled night sky above them. "Not as often as I'd like. And it doesn't really go anywhere from there. I'm not really sure if he's completely comfortable with it, so I don't want to push it."
Harry mirrors his position and entwines their fingers under the sleeping bag. "Looked pretty comfortable to me."
"Yeah," Zayn sighs. "But he's like that when he's had a couple of beers. Doesn't initiate anything when he's sober."
"Hm. But alcohol just lowers inhibition, doesn't it? And anyway, he's not straight, regardless of what he might think."
"Yeah," Zayn mumbles and they fall quiet, lost in thought.
"The past is weird."
Zayn frowns. "The past?"
Harry nods. "Yeah. Just looked at the stars and thought of it. You know because the light we're seeing has to travel and because it's so far away, some of these star might not even exist anymore even though we're still seeing them."
"So what you're saying is, the past only makes sense within the context of time?"
A hush falls over them.
"Fuck," Harry says, awestruck while turning to him, eyes wide. "That's some awesome weed you got there."
Zayn slants him a look before they both start giggling, clutching each other close.
Harry ends up on his stomach, head pillowed on his arm which is draped over Zayn's chest, looking down at him.
Zayn keeps trying to push Harry's beanie off, wants to touch his hair but Harry keeps batting his hand away. "What're you doing, stop that."
Zayn pouts. "Want to touch your hair."
"Oh," Harry says and pulls his beanie off, laying his head back down. "Okay."
Zayn pulls off his glove with his teeth and slides his fingers through Harry's hair, gently untangling the knots and running his fingers over his scalp.
"This is nice," Harry mumbles, not bothering to look up. "Niall and Louis are generally too antsy for cuddling, unless it's during a movie or after sex."
Zayn is about to mention how the weed might have helped, but he's cut off when Harry apparently finishes his thought.
"I miss sex with Louis. Especially the kind that made me feel like this."
"Like this?"
Harry nods, still not looking up, instead burying his face further into Zayn's jacket. "Mmh. Floaty. Disconnected but also completely connected. Where every thought is clear, where it all makes sense."
"Are you saying my weed makes you feel like sex does? What kind of sex were you having? More importantly, what kind of weed am I growing?"
Zayn isn't actually sure if he wants to know about the sex, because he's definitely never had sex that made him feel like he does right now, and he's pretty grateful for that, actually. But he keeps unknotting Harry's hair, waiting patiently for him to continue, even if it does take ages.
"The good kind," Harry explains. "Was having the good kind of sex. The amazing kind, the kind with subspace."
Zayn thinks about that for a long moment. Eventually he notices he will never understand the sentence if he doesn't have all the information. "What the fuck is subspace?"
"Oh," Harry begins, propping his chin up and looking at him. "It's where I go during sex. With Louis. And after. Like after an orgasm. That's where I am."
Zayn might have smoked too much. "What?"
Harry smiles gently. "You know how Louis can be a pushy arsehole?"
Zayn rolls his eyes. "Who doesn't?"
"Well, he's like that with me during sex." Harry must see something in his expression because he's quick to add, "no, no, no. I like it. We have a safeword and everything."
"Safeword?"
"Marble countertop," Harry explains and Zayn is so confused. Why are they talking about marble countertops now? Harry looks a bit sheepish and adds, "don't judge! We were fucking on one at the time, he asked me to come up with a safeword and it was right there, in front of my eyes. Literally."
Zayn waits a second, but the sentence doesn't make any more sense. "What?"
Harry rolls his eyes. "Because I was bent over it? God, Zayn, I'm not really being subtle here."
Zayn doesn't say anything, because Harry seems amped on talking, and maybe this will all make sense eventually. He doubts it, but he's willing to try.
"So yeah, where was I?" Harry scrunches up his nose adorably. "What were we talking about?"
Zayn tries to remember, but the more he concentrates, the more liquid his thoughts turn, slipping through his fingers. It was something about, "marble countertops?"
Harry bursts out laughing.
After what feels like half a day but turns out to only have been an hour, Harry's thoughts return back to mostly normal. Their normal, jumbled mess to be precise.
He looks at Zayn who is still staring up at the stars. "You okay?"
"Yeah, sure. Just thinking about what you said."
Harry grins. "Yeah, which part?"
"The part where it's weird that you're so compatible with Louis sexually and yet he's still not your soulmate." Harry's face falls and something heavy settles in his stomach. Right. That part. He doesn't really feel like talking about it right now, and Zayn must see that. "Oh shit, sorry. I have foot-in-mouth disease when I'm high sometimes. Sorry, babe. Really."
"No, it's fine," Harry assures him. "I'm over it."
Zayn sits up, adjusting his jacket, "yeah, sure. We should go roast some marshmallows, what do you say?"
Harry nods. "Sounds like a great idea." And they untangle themselves from the sleeping bags and climb down to join the others around the fire.
###
Once their hands are sticky with molten marshmallow and the packet is empty, Louis is the first one to call it. "I get the middle," he shouts suddenly and flings himself onto the trampoline, almost not bouncing at all due to the pillows softening his fall.
Niall is next to him in the blink of an eye and soon they're all up there, trying to sort out their limbs and sleeping bags alike.
"Think it'll hold us," Liam asks, looking at it with apprehension.
Louis jumps to his knees and starts bouncing like that. "That depends on what you have us do, Lee-yum." He leers at Liam suggestively, waggling his eyebrows. "Wanna test the springs?"
"Can someone muffle him?"
Louis laughs, bouncing so much that Zayn and Niall roll into his sides.
There's a loud, metallic twang. Liam falls forward, right onto Louis and Harry is in there as well suddenly.
Niall's head pops up from the pile of limbs. "Was that a spring? Did we really just break a spring?"
Liam leans over Zayn to look at the steel springs connecting the netting to the outer rim. "Yeah. Just one though. It's sagging a bit over there."
Harry adjusts his leg because someone heavy is on it, pushing up his trackies only to have that someone use his ankle as a means to steady themselves.
"That was scary," Zayn says in his fake Bradford dialect. "Quick, someone hold me!"
And of course they all do, except for Harry who is now stuck underneath them, his leg caught between their hug.
He feels the little jolt of electricity whenever there is skin on skin contact with one of them. And it's weird, shouldn't that be amplified, when he's touching more than one of them?
Louis is the one using his ankle as a means to steady himself, Niall has grabbed his hand and Zayn's hand is on his hip, where his shirt is riding up. He looks at the boy, at his boys. And suddenly he sees it. They're all touching, skin on skin, even in the cold winter air.
But just like the snow falling and settling on the ground, it's like his thoughts fall into place, right where they belong. It makes so much sense now, and Louis got it so right, and also so wrong.
"Don't move." It's almost a whisper, but there's something in his voice. Something that makes all four of them freeze up, for once not doing the exact opposite of what they're told. They can't move, because from here, Harry can see clearly. How Zayn is touching all four of them, one hand wrapped around both Niall and Louis' hands where they're pressed against his chest, Liam's hand on the back of his neck. Niall is leaning his face into Liam's neck, while Liam is holding down Louis' bare ankles to stop him from kicking. They're all touching each other at the exact same time.
Almost all of them.
Louis had it right, the soulmarks, their ‘hi’s’, those are theirs. But Louis had been wrong, too, because all the sex in the world won't let a soulbond manifest if there wasn't a soulspark first. Usually, it's not really a problem; two people touch during sex so they spark automatically. But with three--or five in their case, and isn't that bloody insane?--it's not enough for the individuals to touch one at a time. And it's all so clear now.
Harry smiles, tears in his eyes.
"Harry?" Louis asks. He looks concerned, like he wants to make it better, fight whatever is making Harry feel this way.
"You're my soulmates," Harry whispers hoarsely. "All of you. It's us five."
All their expressions fall, but none is worse than Louis'. He looks wrecked, like someone punched him in the gut and reminded him he'd never have that, would never bond.
But he will, and Harry knows it with, well, with every part of his being. He can't explain it differently, and anyway, it doesn't matter.
His smile widens. They are about to spark.
"We touch all the time. All of us," he says, still grinning. Niall and Liam just look confused, while Zayn and Louis still look hurt. But it doesn't matter. Or it won't, not in a few seconds. "And Louis even had sex with all of us. But do you know what we never felt? The soulspark. We feel something, like a weak imitation of it, but we've never felt the soulspark. And the reason for that is so clear now, don't you see it?"
Louis is shaking now, and Harry is shocked to see he's close to tears. He doesn't see, doesn't believe Harry, and his words are hurting Louis. He doesn't want that, that's the last thing he wants. So he grips Louis' cheek and rubs his thumb under his eyes.
"Don't be sad," he says, still smiling, but tears are falling onto his own cheeks now. He doesn't even know why he's crying because right then, he feels like he could fly. Like all the problems have been lifted off him, and they have. He kisses Louis gently on the lips. "You're about to spark." And with that, he reaches out his hand and touches the only soon-to-be soulmate he's not currently in contact with.
The seconds his fingers graze Liam's cheek, right under his wide, hopeful eyes, something shoots through him, a spark so strong it takes his breath away, steals his thoughts and he doesn't mind. He sees everything clearly now, sees red strings connecting the five of them, twisting and strengthening. It's the strings of fate, he knows without a shadow of a doubt, and he wonders why this is never in the textbooks, wonders if normal soulmates can't see this, because an average two way bond is simply too weak to see this. He blinks and looks up and there are more, hundreds, thousands of red strings, floating with the snowflakes. They're much thinner than the ones between them now, but he knows instinctively that those are the ones that haven't found their soulmate yet.
He looks down at his chest, where the red string emerges from his heart, already in four pieces. He runs a hand over his jumper but there is nothing there, of course. He tells himself to memorise this moment, this feeling, and how their strings look, because once they're bonded, they will be gone for good.
The spark intensifies as the strings turn into thick cords. He feels it rushing through his body, feels it everywhere from his toes to his fingertips, feels the light of the spark warm him, until it's everywhere and it's still going, heating and expanding until he's engulfed in an inferno and his soulmates are gasping in tandem with him.
And then, everything goes white.
###
"Can you see these?" Louis asks, awed. He's pointing at the string from his heart.
"Yeah," Niall replies.
"They'll be gone once we bond," Zayn reminds them and he sounds as wistful as Harry feels about that. No one has told them about this. Possibly, no one before them has seen what they are currently seeing, no one in the world has been where they are, but they all nod in unequivocal agreement.
"So the sex," Louis says and everyone groans. Or Harry pretends to, but really, this couldn't have worked out better for him, could it. "Do you think one on one will be enough, or is it like the soulspark? Cause I'm up for a circle-jerk right now."
"We’re not having sex outside, that's not the sort of blue balls I want during sex. Actually, I don't want the other sort, either, just so we're clear on that."
"We can't have sex tonight."
Harry is pretty appalled by that statement, even more so when everyone looks at him like he's mental. Because right, he said that.
"We can't. You know how normal soulmates are out of it for several hours, up to a day? It's rumoured the triumvirate's bonding took almost three days. We need to, like, stock up on food and call our families before we have sex."
Louis bursts out laughing and the others aren't far behind. "You're right," Louis says, wiping away tears. They're from laughter, and they cause Harry's grin to widen even more. "There's a no sex rule until tomorrow afternoon. We go shopping in the morning, then call and inform whoever needs to know and then we fuck like bunnies for an entire week!"
He sounds so gleeful that no one really reprimands him for being an idiot, instead they all share silly grins, anticipation high in the air.
As it turns out, waiting isn't all that easy. Because while they might not have been fully aware of the pull before, they sure are now that there's thick, red cords connecting them, be they real or not.
And they're tugging them towards each other insistently. It's no wonder they were so drawn to each others company. It wasn't their subconscious that had them finding each other at soulmeets, bored and off in one corner, or all the afternoons and evenings spent together. It was their soulbond, their strings of fate.
With the help of copious amounts of alcohol they refrain from triggering their bond right away, but they can't seem to do without contact and there's heads in laps and cheeks on shoulders and fingers entwined. Eventually the alcohol numbs their senses, makes them sleepy and they cuddle in close in the frigid air, tucking the blankets and sleeping bags in tight around them. They almost fall asleep on the trampoline until it starts snowing again and Liam urges them inside where they snuggle up on the floor in front of the sofa. The snow is coming down steadily and it's much nicer to see that from the comfort of the warm living room floor, cushions underneath them for comfort while the outside world is turned into a winter wonderland.
The next morning, they start exactly as planned. Initially, Liam and Harry are on shopping duty, while the others are meant to stay home and get everything ready.
They don't even make it up the driveway before Harry grabs Liam's hand and pulls him to a stop. There's a deep frown etched onto Liam's face, like he might be just as bothered as Harry. He shakes his head. "This feels wrong,"
"Yeah."
And then the front door opens and Louis stick his head outside, winter boot in hand and scarf thrown haphazardly around his shoulders. "Oi, wait for us."
And so they go shopping together and it had involved so much touching and kissing and laughing that even the locals, people who've know Louis and Zayn for years, start clucking their tongues at them.
Once they're home again they call their parents, and Louis leaves the room when he bursts into tears once his mum picks up. Eventually they're all set and they turn off their phones, setting them aside.
Harry looks around the little group scattered in the living room, all soft touches and easy laughter replaced with a tension so high they're all vibrating. And he just turns, grabs Liam because he's sitting next to him, and snogs him for a good five minutes.
There's movement around them but Liam is clutching him close, and anyway, it's just his soulmates settling in, maybe grabbing someone to snog just as he is. The kiss is very different from the one Harry witness between Liam and Zayn last night. It's more hesitant and Harry sits up straighter, pulls Liam closer and takes charge of the kiss, its depth and its tempo, while his fingers skim over the short hair on Liam's head, lets it tickle his palm as he holds Liam steady. There's a surprised sound from Liam, but he goes with it, let's Harry teach him how he likes to be kissed.
Liam's fingers tighten on his shoulders and he pulls back, breathes in deeply and breaks off in the middle of it, blushing furiously when he finds all three boys staring at them from the sofa.
Harry doesn't blush. He searches out Louis' eyes instead.
"Finally asking for what you want, I see." Harry almost melts, because Louis is using that voice. And Louis had been adamant about Harry asking for what he wanted, mainly because it didn't come easy to Harry and Louis likes to make it difficult for him. But what sounds like another little sentence where Louis takes the mickey to everyone else, Harry knows what this really is. It's praise.
He beams at Louis.
Liam clears his throat, still blushing. "Should we talk this out? Plan this?"
"Fuck, no," Louis says and pulls Niall closer.
After that everything happens in a dream like state and Harry pushes his hand into Liam's track suit bottoms. After Liam comes, Harry licks his hand clean just so he knows how Liam tastes, walks over to the sofa and kisses Zayn deeply. Zayn is preoccupied, eyes on Niall lying flat on his back, muscled torso sweaty and chest heaving. Louis is on top of him, riding him. Hard.
Harry moves closer slowly, runs one hand over Niall's stomach muscles, feels them twitch. The touch is familiar and comforting, while the ghost of Zayn's lips still burn on his, the heavy heat of Liam's cock, pulsing in his hand.
His other hand is on Louis' shoulder, featherlight touches over the sharpest collarbones Harry has ever seen. This touch is familiar, too, maybe not as much but still comforting. But Harry doesn't need comfort right now, not when he can still hear Liam's grunts in his ears, feel where he bit Harry's shoulder to stay quiet while he came, body shuddering just from Harry's hand.
So he slides his hand over Louis' back, feels the muscles working there with every lift, feels his heart beat a staccato rhythm against his ribcage. But his hand wanders lower, dipping into the curve of Louis' spine, further to the swell of his bum, fingers still not satisfied, slipping lower.
His touch is careful, exploratory, until he feels where Niall is splitting Louis open, feel the drag of him sinking deep. He swallows Louis' harsh moan at the intimate touch, wants to keep it for himself, presses it against the roof of his mouth. His tongue snakes into Louis' mouth and he lets him pant on it before Louis kisses back, tongue pushy like he is, demanding to go by his speed.
And Harry lets himself be kissed while his hand leaves Niall's abs to wrap around Louis' bobbing cock, tugging slowly.
He still feels Niall with his other hand, pushing in deep when Louis rocks down, rotating when Louis drags up. And Harry is the one going insane from it, from the feeling of Niall and Louis, and without thinking he aligns his finger, pushes in alongside Niall's cock.
Louis' head falls back, the sound obscene when their lips part but not half as much as the groan that wrecks Louis' throat, his rhythm stuttering for a moment.
Piercing blue eyes flash open and Louis looks at him, gaze sharp, assessing. It has Harry squirming in no time, flushed under the intense stare. Louis wraps a hand around his jaw, fingers curling under his ear, watches Harry shiver and rub his thighs together while Louis' grip never slackens.
"Look at you," Louis says, almost mocking. If Harry's finger weren't still pressed tightly against Niall's dick, he wouldn't be able to tell Louis was getting fucked, judging by how unaffected Louis sounds. "Getting fresh, are we?"
He lifts his hips and sinks down with a spiralling motion, smirking when both Niall and Harry groan.
There's pressure on his jaw now and Harry is jerked forward, closer so Louis can lick Harry's lips, suck the bottom one into his mouth, nibble it until he's had enough. "Or are you trying to tell me something?" Louis is fucking up and down roughly now, forgetting to talk for a moment while his mouth slackens. He let's the emotion wash over his face, shows them just for a second how turned on he really is, before he blinks his eyes, pulls it back and focuses again.
Harry is so hard it hurts, the front of his joggers soaked with his precome, not that he can look with Louis still holding him tight.
Louis looks at him when he's all the way seated, cock and finger in as far as they will go. Then the hand on Harry's jaw moves to Harry's hair, grip tight and fingers rough, forcing Harry's head back and biting his neck, sucking the spot moments later and Louis tightening around them so much that Niall whimpers from beneath.
And the harsh grip on Harry's hair doesn't loosen, but Louis's voice is suddenly gentle, honey-soft and gorgeous. "Baby, if you wanted two cocks in your arse you should have just said. I'll get one of the boys later and we'll take care of you, how's that sound?"
Harry whimpers at the mere thought, of two cocks, sliding deep, stretching him wide. He nods frantically, squirting more precome, convinced he's about to cream himself without a hand on him.
"Please," he whispers urgently, circling his hips desperately. "Please, Louis. Wanna try."
Louis nods and lets go, calmly reaches behind his back to pull out Harry's finger. "I will baby. But not right now. I'm fucking Niall and he's being so good. You'll be good as well and wait, yeah?"
Harry isn't at all sure he can, thinks he might faint with how little blood is making it to his brain, with how he's almost hyperventilating, short harsh little breaths that make his vision go fuzzy. But he nods in agreement. Louis told him to wait and fuck if he isn't going to try.
Then there are arms around him from behind, darkish skin made darker by swirling tattoos. Zayn nips at his shoulder and when Harry moans and lets his head fall back, Zayn does it again, harder this time.
Louis pushes against his chest, pushes him away but also into Zayn. "Yeah baby, play with Zayn."
And Harry does, turns in Zayn's arms, let's Zayn distract him.
Niall is lying wedged between Harry and Liam, both of them snoring. They're in Zayn's bedroom and the sheets are sort of gross, clinging to his skin. He mutters to himself while getting up, then mutters some more when his entire body isn't just sore, but sticky as well. Eww.
What he really needs is a nice, hot shower. But he doesn't want to wake the two snoring beauties, so he heads towards the downstairs bathroom, avoiding the one creaking stair and stopping off at the kitchen to get one of the sandwiches Harry had insisted on preparing. Then he heads to the bathroom, once again waylaid by soft murmurs from the lounge area.
It's Louis and Zayn, sitting in front of the muted TV. They're facing away from the telly, turned towards each other and Zayn is idly playing with the fingers of Louis' right hand. It looks like a private moment and Niall stops, wonders if he should make himself be heard, or maybe just leave.
"I don't know," Zayn says softly. "Not until it happens. We've changed a lot since we were teenagers."
Louis' expression is serious, and it's almost foreign to Niall, who has never seen this side of him. He watches Louis laces their fingers and rub his thumb calmly over Zayn's knuckles. "Yeah," he agrees. "Only, we're still us."
Zayn sighs. "I don't know what to tell you, Lou. Just because we didn’t have sex in the last few years doesn't mean I didn't want to."
There's a certain seriousness to him, to his words, which makes Niall incredibly uncomfortable to be witnessing the scene.
Zayn softly cups Louis' face. "You were the first, and up until recently, only person I've ever fallen in love with."
Louis grabs his wrists and kisses both of his palms. Then he smiles, the dopiest smile Niall has ever seen on Louis. "That's because, turns out, I'm your soulmate."
Zayn smiles, soft and gorgeous, before he turns serious again. "You're also my best friend. I need you to keep being my best friend."
Louis laughs, elated in a way he hasn't been in weeks, maybe longer. "You're such an idiot. I'll still be your best friend even when you don't want me anymore. It'll be sad, the amount of pining I'll be doing. But I'll do it. Because I'm far too attached to you."
"Promise?" Zayn whispers fiercely.
"Yes," Louis says with utter conviction. He strokes Zayn's cheekbone. "I love you, too, you absolute dolt. Never stopped, either."
Zayn turns his head into the touch. Then he frowns. "We're still no closer to a decision."
Louis visibly shrugs off the emotional tension. "We have sex once, won't get around that. We'll see where it goes from there. If it's a disaster, we can do the whole soulbond thing without sex." Louis sighs deeply, a smirk making its way onto his face. "We'll have such a tough time. Only three other hot blokes to get off with, whatever will we do?"
Zayn shoves his shoulder, rolling his eyes. "You're such a fucking idiot."
Louis pulls him closer, their lips brushing. Then Louis climbs right onto Zayn's lap, cradles his face softly. The kiss starts out soft, too, but soon Zayn's hands are sliding up the back of Louis' shirt and they're groaning into each others mouths, whispering ‘missed this’ and ‘love you’s’ when they pull back for air.
Niall decides his shower can wait, and he heads back upstairs.
Liam blinks open his eyes sluggishly. He doesn't know what time it is or how long they've been here, but his guess would be it's day two. Or three. Or--okay, so time is a concept he can't comprehend right now, doesn't much care to, either.
He goes to the fridge, intent on getting a coke for his dry mouth. There's only pepsi, which is fine as well. God, he aches all over but inside, in his heart, a contentment has taken root that is worth every twinge.
Harry, Niall and Louis are still sleeping entwined on the fluffy living room rug in front of the fireplace, right where he left them. He stares for a bit, at each of them, his eyes sliding over now-familiar skin and his heart almost bursts. But something is missing. Someone. Zayn.
Liam looks around in confusion. Zayn should be with them, was when they fell asleep exhausted and spent. It's vitally important he be there, Liam doesn't think he could relax otherwise, not now that he's thought about all five of them cuddled together. And maybe it's because his only remaining red string leads up the stairs, towards Zayn, pulling him in.
They haven't been avoiding each other, because they've seen each other plenty. There's been lots of kissing and snuggling and stolen touches while one went to the bathroom and the other headed to get some lube. There was plenty of touching last night, with all five of them in front of the fire, it just never went anywhere from there, and there had been so many other hands and mouths and--god, he's making himself blush.
He follows the red string. It leads to Zayn's bedroom, but he isn't there, the red string vanishing through the closed en suite bathroom door. He clears some clothes from the bed so he can sit down comfortably, intent on waiting for Zayn to finish up, maybe find out what's making it just slightly awkward between them. But it takes ages, and he might have fallen asleep amidst the jumpers and skinny jeans strewn about, his dreams filled with the same as his waking life, with his soulmates around him, happy and content.
He jolts awake to the bathroom door creaking open. All thoughts of talking to Zayn about this weird apprehension between them fly out the window. Instead, a strangled sound escapes his throat when his eyes land on Zayn. Zayn freezes in the doorway, looking up with shocked, wide eyes from where he's patting down a skirt.
He's wearing a motherfucking skirt and his skinny legs are sticking out from underneath it, smooth and obviously freshly shaven. The skirt ends somewhere above his knees and looks suspiciously like the standard issue school uniform variety. His hips seem too narrow, his torso too muscled and his shoulder too wide for Liam's body's reaction to be based on past conditioning.
Liam doesn't know what to say, shocked into inaction.
Shame flits across Zayn's face, his cheeks heating up and his eyes trail towards the ground.
He sounds defensive, like he's about to bolt. "I think it looks nice, so fuck off. Harry agrees."
"It doesn't look nice." Liam says without thinking.
Zayn's whole body flinches and Liam berates himself, quickly pulls Zayn closer before he retreats into the bathroom to hide. Their knees touch, Liam sitting on the edge of the bed, Zayn standing stiffly in front of him, looking anywhere but at Liam.
He can feel the silky smoothness of Zayn's leg, reaches out to palm the back of his knee. Zayn shifts his body weight to the other leg, still not looking at him, the dark flush from his cheeks making its way down his chest while he resolutely looks at the opposite wall, chewing on his bottom lip. "Doesn't just look nice," Liam murmurs, his fingertips pressing into Zayn's skin. "It looks bloody fantastic. Makes me think of naughty things, like how I want to bend you over, slide it up and--."
Zayn sags in on himself, like he'd been holding his breath that whole time. His fabric covered hips rest against Liam's cheek and he rubs his stubble against it, grins when the front of Zayn's pretty little skirt starts tenting outward. He mouths at a hipbone, watches Zayn's cock grow heavy and full under the simple touch, disturbing the fall of the folds.
"I don't really--uhm."
Liam releases his knee, runs his hand over the freshly shaven skin of his thigh instead, up, up until the skirt is bunched around his wrist and he can see the 'hi' soulmark on Zayn's inner thigh. He runs his thumb over, wants to mark it with his teeth. "Don't what?"
Zayn squirms, eyes fixed on Liam's hand where it's high underneath his skirt, almost but not quite close enough to touch his straining dick.
"Don't really take it up the arse."
Liam stills his movement and looks up at him. "Oh." He contemplates for a moment. "Er. You could fuck me?" And it probably shouldn't come out as a question because he's got four soulmates, all of them male, so it should have probably come up sooner.
Zayn frowns. "Have you ever--?"
"Well, no. But it looked like Harry really enjoyed it, and so did Louis. Can't be that bad judging by that."
"Louis does it mainly for the control it gives him."
"What?"
"He gets off on it." Zayn shrugs before he wrinkles his forehead like Liam's words only sink in now. "You'd really--you'd really do that? For me?”
Liam scoots back on the bed, fingers still digging into soft skin and he pulls Zayn onto his lap. His brain short circuits for a moment when Zayn's slim, smooth legs slide against the outside of his thighs. Liam is still naked from fucking Harry, bent over the couch while the others watched. Oh god. He isn't quite sure what happened there. All he knows is that it felt good and he'd never been with anyone quite as loud as Harry.
This feels fantastic, too. His hands creep up under the skirt to grab the tiny swell of Zayn's arse--and yeah, no underwear--to pull him closer.
Liam really thinks about it. Having a dick in his bum doesn't sound like fun. But Louis really did seem to enjoy it, and Harry, well. Harry nothing short of begged for more, whining when Louis told him to shut up, told him he hadn't forgotten his promise. On one occasion Niall had gotten three of Louis' fingers and it would have probably led to more if Niall hadn't come once Zayn bent down to take his dick into his mouth.
He wonders how much of his aversion is due to the things his friends or teammates have said, his sisters, his parents. Considering he's never even tried it, he thinks it might be one hundred percent of it. And that won't do at all.
"Yeah I--I want to try it? See if I like it."
Zayn bites his lip, teeth turning the plump flesh rosy slick. "I've tried it once. I was drunk and the guy. He was an arsehole, okay? It hurt. Louis said it shouldn't if it's done right, but I never. Well, I didn't much feel like trying after that and it sort of--became a thing."
Liam wraps his arms around Zayn's torso and pulls him closer. "I'm so sorry, babe. It's fine. It can be your thing, I don't mind. You can totally fuck me." He kisses Zayn's collar bone and pulls back, trying to lighten the mood. "Just promise to keep the skirt on, yeah?"
Zayn is silent for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice so soft Liam has to strain to hear it. "I don't want it to be a thing."
Liam isn't quite sure what he means by that.
"I want you to fuck me." The sentence starts out confident but trails off into something resembling a question. "Just umm... Be gentle."
"Always." Liam breathes hotly into Zayn's neck, clutching him close. "You sure?"
"Yes," Zayn says firmly.
"We might need. Uhm. Some help? Because I don't really know what I'm doing and..."
"Yeah, okay."
They don't get up though. Instead they sit there on the bed, Zayn on his lap with a skirt on and just clutching each other tightly. Then they're kissing and it's fantastic, bloody brilliant, Zayn's soft sighs and little circles with his hips are driving Liam absolutely insane.
The door opens and three sleepy guys stand in the doorway.
"You called?" For once, Louis doesn't sound like he's joking. "Like in our heads?"
Harry clarifies, "It's more of a feeling. A suggestion?"
Louis moves closer, running a hand over Zayn's shoulder. They look at each other for a long moment, some sort of silent conversation that is deeply intriguing. Zayn nods once and Louis gives him a quick peck on the lips. "Nice skirt, Malik."
Zayn groans and buries his hot face in Liam's neck. Liam likes that.
Niall pushes Harry forward. "It's like a strong desire suddenly overtook us to be in this room. It's weird."
That's. Wow. Liam needs time to think about that because it's obviously their bond and they'll have to experiment, find out what they can and can't do and--.
Zayn grinds down against his erection. He's almost laughing and he's. Wow. He's fucking stunning. "Still want to do this? You looked distracted there for a moment."
Liam gathers him in his arms, strains and flips them both. He settles between Zayn's thighs easily, pushing up the skirt to palm his bum as he moves closer, their mouths kissing around a smile. "Oh, I want this."
"Breathe with me." Harry's voice is like dark molasses, sweet and slow.
Zayn doesn't open his eyes, just listens for Harry's long, slow breaths in his ear. Two of Liam's fingers are in his bum and it's. Well it's not bad. More weird than anything else.
Louis is hovering, hawk eyes on every movement Liam makes just in case he hurts Zayn or Zayn cramps up and Liam pulls back sharply on instinct. It's funny, because he hadn't seemed particularly concerned about hurting Harry earlier. Quite the opposite. But that's different, because Harry apparently gets off on pain and Zayn really doesn't. So Louis is hovering. Zayn loves him so much it's insane. When he's not following Liam's every move, he's lying down on Zayn's other side, the one that hasn't got Harry plastered against it and strokes his sweaty hair gently.
"Doing so good, babe. Taking it so well."
Zayn would laugh if it weren't so fucking hot. Harry whimpers his agreement into his ear, hard dick rutting against Zayn's hip. But no one is worried about themselves right now. All their focus on him, on Zayn, lying on the bed with a skirt on, his legs splayed wide and his eyes screwed shut.
"Crook it, like so."
Zayn doesn't look but imagines Niall miming the shape with his own fingers. Liam shifts, following Niall's suggestion. "Okay?"
"Keep searching," Niall says.
"How do I know when I've found it?"
Niall laughs. "Oh, Zayn will let you know."
They're talking about his prostate. He isn't stupid, knows exactly how to reach it in a guy. But maybe his isn't sensitive like theirs? Maybe he just wasn't made to bottom and the fact that he's not really feeling anything apart from, well fingers in his arse, is just driving that point home.
He lets Liam wriggle his fingers around a bit more. He really doesn't want to be the spoilsport here, they're all so caring and attuned to him right now. But he won't take it up the bum without his prostate helping him through it. Not again.
"I don't think--." He breaks off in an embarrassing loud whine when Liam very clearly and for to first time, brushes over the right spot. "Again." He's panting, harshly, and he couldn't care less, too focused on the fire spreading along his limbs, right down to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He moans and arches, pushes back onto Liam's fingers, wants more.
"There it is," Louis says from beside him. His deft fingers wrap around Zayn's cock and Zayn lets out an undignified shout.
Harry just giggles into his other ear. "Get it now, yeah?"
"Oh fuck."
Even Niall chuckles this time. Zayn opens his eyes, has to see why Liam is so silent while his fingers never falter, stroking him just right on every push inside, increasing the pressure in his groin, driving him insane.
Unlike Zayn had expected, Liam is not starring with concentration at his fingers sliding in and out of Zayn's body. His eyes are trained on Zayn's face and they lock gazes for a moment. There's wonder, so much awe and wonder in Liam's gaze that Zayn can't take it. He scrambles up, hardly winces at the slight tug when he jostles Liam's fingers. He throws his arms around Liam's neck, kissing him fiercely, grinding down on his fingers filthily.
"More." It's not a plea, not like Harry earlier who had shamelessly begged and begged for more. But Zayn thinks he understands now how it comes so easy to Harry, thinks he might find it easy too, if this is what he's asking for.
Liam looks lost, eyes searching for Niall. "What does he--?"
Niall urges Zayn to lie back down and he slots between Harry and Louis seamlessly. "Think he's ready for the third finger."
Liam swallows visibly, eyes finally falling to where he's breaching Zayn. "Okay?"
Louis scrambles up and uncaps the bottle next to him. "When in doubt," he says and upends it, squirting copious amounts of lube over Liam's fingers and Zayn's bum, "use more lube."
Zayn giggles and they all look at him, surprised at first, then fondly.
Liam lines up the third finger, but before he can even start pushing inside, Harry leans over and takes Zayn's dick in his mouth, so Zayn doesn't even feel it when Liam pushes in, too intent on the dark heat around his cock. Fuck, Harry is good at that.
It get's even better when Louis, apparently fed up with Harry teasing only the head, wraps his fingers in Harry's curly hair and pushes him down.
Zayn shouts and bucks when he ends up with his dick in Harry’s throat. "Fuuuuck."
Niall laughs. "Hasn't got much of a gag reflex."
"Nrgh."
Louis doesn't let Harry up and Zayn is torn between the insane pressure when Harry starts convulsing around him and actually fearing for his dick.
"Louis...."
Louis' eyes are on him in a flash, fading into the gentleness Zayn knows. "What is it, love?" He hasn't let Harry up though.
Zayn groans when Harry hums around him, can't help but thrust up, then grind back down onto Liam's fingers.
"He can't breathe like that."
Louis laughs. "I should imagine not, with a cock shoved down his throat."
Zayn snaps his hips again but pulls Louis' hand out of Harry's hair. Harry stays down for a moment longer then pulls back, coughing furiously with tears spilling from his eyes.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Harry."
Harry just looks on in confusion, first at him, then at Louis.
Louis sighs. "Look, if it freaks you out, we'll stop it but--." He cups Harry's jaw and pushes his thumb between his lips. Harry immediately starts sucking on that instead. "He likes it."
"That would sound so much more believable if it came from him."
Louis pulls his finger out and lets go of Harry completely. Harry just whines.
Eventually Harry catches on and he half drapes himself over Zayn's body to whisper in his opposite ear. "Want to suck you so bad. Please let me, please."
Zayn shudders, clamps down on Liam's three--three--fingers and squirts precome onto his own belly.
"I don't want you to choke."
Harry looks panicked and Zayn has no idea what's going on in that boy’s head.
"I don't think...," Harry trails off and looks at Louis, then down as though he's ashamed. "I don't think I can take him down without choking. I can try--I will try--but I don't..." He bites his lip nervously.
Louis leans over and kisses Harry sweetly. "No baby, you misunderstood Zayn. You were doing so well, you did everything right."
"Yeah, I meant you don't have to deepthroat at all."
Harry looks as though Zayn just punched him.
"Would you shut up," Louis hisses at Zayn. "Harry is--never mind. I can’t explain it properly without his input. And you won't get much coherency out of him right now.” He looks at all of them pleadingly. "Can you please just trust me with this until we can explain it?"
Niall clears his throat. "Look Zayn, Harry explained it to me and--I mean I don't really get it but, like, they do? It's fine, I promise."
Zayn is just sort of bewildered by the whole thing so Louis decides on a new direction. "Harry?" Harry's eyes snap to his in an instant. "No taking him in your throat."
Harry looks--Harry looks like he might actually start to cry.
“But I won’t choke, I won’t, I promise.”
Something hardens in Louis’ eyes. “I told you not to.”
Harry sits back on his haunches and looks down at his hands resting in his lap. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“You have to be gentle with Zayn today, okay? Can you do that?”
Harry nods.
Zayn just stares at them, then wonders when Liam stopped moving his fingers. He frowns at that.
Without being prompted, Harry leans forward, taking only the very tip of Zayn in his mouth and sucking furiously. Zayn whines and pushes down on Liam, who finally gets with the programme and starts moving again. They can totally talk about this later. For now, he really wants to see what happens next.
Zayn gets back into the swing of things, grinding down on Liam and trusting up into Harry. Niall even wraps his fingers around Zayn’s cock as well, covers those parts that Harry doesn’t touch and it’s—well it’s mind blowing.
Zayn feels Liam’s finger drag over his prostate, feels Harry suck hard at the head of his cock. And suddenly, he arches and cries out, coming without wanting to. He clamps down on Liam hard while shudders wreck his body. Louis moves, probably to hold Liam’s hand in place while Zayn comes into Harry’s mouth, grabbing the sheets and bunching them in his fist.
“Shit, shit. Sorry,” Zayn mumbles but isn’t sure if he means it.
Louis just laughs against his lips, kissing him softly. “What for? Nothing will get you quite as relaxed as an orgasm.”
And oh. Oh.
Harry pulls off, crouches low and opens his mouth for Louis. Louis dips a finger into his mouth, pulls it out and drags it over Harry’s lips. “Swallow.”
Harry does, looking like Christmas has come early and maybe, maybe Zayn understands what’s going on.
He grabs for Liam in a haze with one hand, the other one clamping onto Liam’s wrist and pulling his fingers out slowly.
“Now,” he whispers into Liam’s ear when he’s lying on top of him.
“Sure?”
Zayn smiles, then smiles some more at the dazed look that overcomes Liam. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
And then Niall is pressing an unwrapped condom into Liam’s palm, Louis is telling Harry to move back and give the two of them some room. Liam rolls the condom over his erection and Zayn just stares, mouth practically watering. Fuck, he’s never wanted anything so much in his entire life.
Liam lines up, eyes fixed on Zayn’s face when he pushes forward.
All Zayn can do is throw his head back at the delicious friction, can even feel his dick taking a second interest in the going-ons. He kisses Liam on his mouth, his cheek, his ear and his neck, then clamps down on the prominent tendon running from neck to shoulder. Liam curses and snaps his hips forward and just like that he’s all the way in and all Zayn feels is utter delight and a slight stretch.
Liam starts moving then, slow and shallow little thrusts of his hips that have Zayn mewling and arching his back. And then, then, Liam changes the angle and suddenly the head of his cock his doing what his fingers did; dragging over Zayn’s prostate in the most delicious pressure known to man. His cock perks right back up.
Louis wakes up with a start and almost kicks Harry in the stomach. That's what he gets for crawling up Louis' body while he's fast asleep.
Harry stops off at his stomach, licks under his belly button and Louis puts a hand on his head, not stroking or directing, just letting him know he's awake. At that Harry grins without looking up, snakes out his tongue and starts dragging it up to Louis' nipple, looking up when he's about half way there and stopping for a quick, open mouthed kiss.
"Hi," Louis says after watching Harry for a bit more, letting him do what he wants, which apparently, is licking every part of Louis' chest.
"Wanna play," Harry whines, starting in on a hickey. Louis bats him away and Harry pouts.
They both startle when Liam stirs on the bed next to them, blinks his eyes open slowly. He's the only one in here with them, and Louis has no idea what Zayn and Niall are up to. "What time is it?"
Harry just pouts at him, too. "Wanna play."
Liam's face is one of confusion and Louis grins, reaching over to pat his chest. "Want Liam to watch," he asks, still looking at Liam but clearly directing the question to Harry.
Harry’s pupils dilate and he squirms.
It’s not really a surprise, but it does open up a vast new array of possibilities and Louis can’t wait. He lies back down next to Liam, bringing an arm up behind himself to pillow his head, the other one wrapped around Harry’s knee.
Then he raises and eyebrow. "Well? I asked you a question."
Harry's fidgeting gets worse and he sits down on his haunches between them in his tiny underwear, doesn't look at them. "If he wants," he finally mumbles.
Louis lets his fingers dance over Harry's thighs, slipping them under the edge of his underwear for only a second. "Why don't you ask him, then?"
Harry shakes his head, not looking up, so Louis pinches him, hard. There's a red mark almost immediately and Harry frowns down at it, then looks up at Louis, almost defiantly.
"Ask him." Louis says, no more sweetness in his voice.
And maybe it's the tone of voice, maybe it's something else, but Harry finally mumbles without looking up, "would you like to watch?” Always polite, isn’t he?
Liam looks confused. "Watch what exactly?" he asks Louis. Louis just taps Harry's leg.
"Watch us play."
"What uhm. What does that mean?"
Louis tries not to grin because now Liam is squirming, too, and it's fun to watch.
Harry looks at him pleadingly, a bit of panic creeping into his eyes and Louis pats his leg, letting him know he's off the hook.
"It's basically more of this. I tell Harry what to do, and he does it." He doesn't mention to Liam that he's actually already in the middle of it. He'll figure it out.
"Why?" Liam clears his throat. "I mean why does he do it?"
Louis sits up and holds Harry's jaw tightly. He leans in but stops before their lips brush, which causes Harry to whine prettily. "Because," Louis says, looking at Harry intently. "He's a good boy."
It probably doesn't answer Liam's question but Harry relaxes visibly, sags in on himself and stops straining for the kiss. Louis rewards him by closing the last bit of distance and giving him the sweetest, most gentlest kiss, a clear contrast to how tightly he's gripping his jaw. Harry takes it gratefully, even opens his mouth in invitation but Louis denies him that.
Instead he lies back down, both arms behind his head now. "Get undressed."
Immediately, Harry shifts out of his underwear but even more interestingly, Liam makes an awkward, aborted movement as well. He's still naked under the covers though and Louis isn't sure if it's that realisation or the fact that he notices the command was clearly directed at Harry. Interesting.
The underwear lands on the floor and Harry looks at him, but not before stealing a glance at Liam.
"Sit back on your heels between us." Louis waits for Harry to comply before adding, "now wank yourself."
Harry's hand stops mid motion, his eyes once again landing on Liam. He loves giving a good show so Louis doesn't think that's what has him so bashful, no. It's probably got more to do with the fact that he's showing Liam a side he's previously only shown Louis.
And Louis is so fucking proud of him, he could wrap him up and kiss him forever, but he doesn't, not now. Instead he waits a moment longer and when Harry's still blushing and not doing what he's told, Louis hardens his voice, “what are you waiting for?"
Harry slowly wraps his fingers around his dick, big and hard. Louis wonders how long he's been like this, how long it took him until he decided to find Louis, ask for what he wants. There's a bead of precome collecting on the tip already, so it's probably been a bit.
It's sort of funny, how Harry's movements are stilted and he's not even gripping himself properly. Louis flicks Harry's fingers, the ones wrapped around his dick, and Hardy flinches but gets the idea, wraps his gorgeous hand around his equally gorgeous cock more firmly, until his mouth falls open and his eyes fall shut.
That's more like it.
They watch Harry wank himself for some time, listen to the little whines fill the bedroom as all of their breathing becomes steadily heavier. Harry's panting now, groaning on every other stroke and the flush in his cheeks is no longer from embarrassment. Harry makes the most gorgeous noises in bed and it had been a very selfish mission at first to stop him from always covering his mouth, keeping them in.
He doesn’t anymore, sighs and keens in the most beautiful way ever. Louis could listen to him all day long. Until there’s a little hitch in his voice, a stutter in his movement that suggests he’s seconds away from coming.
“Stop.”
Harry does, but not without protest. “Please, Louis,” Harry whines, fingers still wrapped around his dick but no longer moving. “So close. Please, please.”
“Fucking hell.”
Louis turns to Liam, eyebrows raised. All this swearing is new, but it suits Liam somehow. Louis likes it.
Liam looks at him then, bottom lip bitten raw and his eyes glassy.
Slowly, very slowly, Louis lets the smirk spread over his face. “Yes, Liam?
Liam moves uncomfortably and Louis doesn’t miss the slight tenting of the covers. “Why'd you stop him? He was about to come.”
“Because,” Louis begins while pulling back the covers on Liam. Then he tucks Harry’s hand free from his cock and wraps it around Liam’s instead. “I don’t want him to come yet.”
For the next few minutes Harry concentrates on Liam, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration while he wanks Liam. His eyes flicker from his hand up to Liam's face, adjusting his grip, still trying to figure out how Liam likes it best. Harry licks his lips, watches his hand glide over Liam's cock. He's tilting forward, head bending down and lips getting closer and closer to Liam's leaking dick, like Harry can't even help himself, just wants it in his mouth.
Louis is pretty sure Harry isn’t even aware of it, but when Harry licks his lips again and bends futher, Louis speaks up. “What are you doing?”
Harry straightens immediately, looking at Louis guiltily.
“Always so eager to suck cock, aren’t you?” He sighs deeply, like this is actually a problem. “But did I tell you to?”
Harry squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, curls flying around his face. And again, as so many times before, Louis has to wait for the actual answer. Wait for Harry to realise that he was asked a question and that he’s expected to answer. One of these days, he’ll get himself into serious trouble with that particular bad habit. They’ve already discussed spanking, and Louis is really just waiting for the right moment to put it to use.
Just, not tonight.
“No,” Harry finally, finally admits and Louis grumbles his displeasure at having to wait so long.
“That’s right, I didn’t.” He moves further away, making more room between Liam and himself on the bed. “Lie down. On your back.”
Harry reluctantly lets go of Liam but falls back quickly, looking up at Louis with big eyes, pupils heavily dilated and his hands resting neatly next to his thighs, fingers clawing at the covers.
His cock feels heavy in Louis' hand and Harry sucks in a sharp breath at the first contact. For a moment, Louis forgets everything around him, because ever since that first day in the laundry room, he's had this obsession with his hand on Harry's dick, and the last few weeks of not getting to touch it had been difficult. So just for a moment he doesn't think about his next move, doesn't concentrate fully on Harry. Instead he squeezes hard and watches his fingers drag over the heavy skin.
It's not even Harry's little mewling sounds or the way he's twisting his hips that pull him back. Instead, Liam asks, "is he allowed to come now?"
The question is innocent and hot all at once, and Louis could really get used to this; to another component when they play. Maybe not always, he thinks he might want the first time he really does spank Harry to be something that's just between them. But apart from that, he's really liking the current situation.
"No. Definitely not when he's doing things no one told him to." He squeezes Harry hard, smiles at the groan and watches more precome bubble out the slit. "Think I'll tease him a bit more."
Liam looks almost sorry for Harry but Louis can't explain his reasoning to him right now, doesn't want to. He'll just have to watch and see for himself.
"Liam," he says while spreading Harry's thighs and crawling between them. Harry immediately groans, knows exactly what's coming. "Could you give me the lube, please."
Liam immediately reaches over to his bedside table and holds it out, but Louis makes a little hand motion that tells him to wait. Instead he gets comfortable and turns his head to kiss Harry's thigh, bites down and sucks a love bite into the pale flesh for good measure. Then he holds Harry's cock steady and slides it into his mouth.
Obviously, Harry enjoys a blow job as much as the next guy, but whenever Louis goes down on him, Louis can't help but feel it's for selfish reasons. The sounds and shivers he pulls from Harry are absolutely amazing, but if he's really honest with himself, Louis just likes the feel of it. He likes the smooth skin gliding over his lips, likes the heavy weight on his tongue and the way his jaw aches within moments.
Weirdly enough, most of his one-night-stands hadn't featured a blowjob, at least not with him as the giving party. And he'd always enjoyed them and that point had been driven home when he started seeing Harry. When he could really take his time, explore, blow Harry for however long he wanted to without Harry hurrying him on.
So he starts off slow, shallow little ups and downs to get himself used to the stretch. Eventually he brings his tongue into play, presses it along the underside and swirls it over the head when he's pulling up.
His jaw starts to ache in no time and he revels in it, pushes deeper until he feels Harry's cock touch his throat. He pulls back slightly, because unlike Harry, he actually does have a gag reflex, so he's not even attempting that. But he likes to think he makes up for it, brings his hands up to wrap around the base.
He's so into it, he doesn't even know for how long Harry's been calling his name, sobbing it desperately. He pulls off with a loud pop, then has to concentrate to use a tone of voice that doesn't sound completely blissed out. "What?"
"Louis, Louis, Louis," Harry still chants, like he hasn't even noticed Louis has stopped.
He grabs Harry's hand, squeezes it hard. "What?"
"Louis?" Harry looks at him, almost surprised. "Louis. I'm going--I can't. I'm sorry."
He sounds so wrecked that Louis leans up, strokes his hair. "Ssh," he soothes, wiping tears from the side of Harry's face. "You're doing so good, baby. Told me just in time, didn't you?"
Harry nods all sniffly but calming down.
"Can I--can I come now? Please?"
Harry's voice is so small, Louis has to make himself say it. "No."
And Harry sobs once, loud and dramatic before he quiets down.
It doesn't last long, because Louis moves back between his legs and holds his hand out to Liam, wiggling his fingers. Liam looks, well, Liam looks a bit confused, but mostly turned on. In a daze he uncaps the lube.
"You okay?" Louis asks him while he watches Liam drizzle lube onto his hand.
"Uhm. Yeah."
Louis squints at him. "You sure?"
Liam sighs, doing a little one-shouldered shrug. "What if it gets too much for him?"
"Ah," Louis says, nodding, while pushing one slick finger into Harry without warning. Harry arches and makes a sound but doesn't do much more after that. "We have a safeword."
Harry is loose enough to allow Louis to slide in a second finger without much effort, and Harry pushes down on it almost immediately, starts rolling his hips and fucking himself on Louis' fingers.
"Harry," he says to get his attention. He's avoiding Harry's prostate but it takes a bit more concentration with Harry's desperate little movements. "Do you know your safeword?"
"I don't want to use it!" Harry's reaction is sort of instantaneous and Louis hides his smile against the inside of Harry's knee.
"That's fine." He contemplates making him tell it to Liam, but realises quickly that it would be exactly the wrong thing to do. Instead he makes Harry do the explaining, feels like it's easier for Liam to understand this way. "Explain to Liam what your safeword does."
"If I use it," Harry pants, still pushing down on his fingers and slurring the words horribly, "Louis stops. We both stop. Completely."
Liam is nodding, but at the same time the frown remains etched onto his features. "So you--uhm. Play like this until Harry wants to come and uses his password?"
Louis turns his head into Harry's knee again, away from Liam, and rolls his eyes. Dear lord this boy must have been having the most vanilla sex imaginable. He will have so much fun changing that.
He crooks his fingers, brushing over Harry's prostate once, just to let him know he hasn't forgotten about him.
"No. We play until we're done. The safeword is only for an emergency, which is why it's extremely important that, regardless of when it is said, everything stops completely, the scene ends."
"Scene?"
Okay, so he'll just have to sit the others down and explain this all from the start. Doing it while he's knuckles deep in Harry might be hot, but it's really not very educational. It's fine, he'll work with what he's got.
"Tell him what we're currently doing, Harry."
Harry swallows and squirms. "E--edging," he gets out, throwing his head back and clamping down hard on Louis' fingers. "And exhibitionism."
Louis nods, feels weirdly proud. For some reason, Harry usually tries to squirm out of using the proper terminology. As a treat he pushes in a third finger.
"Okay, I know the second one, but what's edging?"
Louis swiftly takes Harry's dick into his mouth, sucks hard, and lets it drop out again with a wet pop. Harry arches, brings his knees up and wriggles so much, Louis has to stop him with a warning hand to his hip. "It's keeping him on the edge of orgasm but not having him come."
Liam nods, like it's starting to make sense now. "Because then the orgasm is more intense. Hey, I've totally done edging before!" He sounds so proud that Louis has to lean up and kiss him, Harry rumbling deep in his chest from either the kiss or the jostles fingers.
Louis moves back into place, spreads his fingers and then, slips in a fourth. There's a slight grunt of discomfort from Harry and Louis stops moving his hand immediately, looks up at him and waits. When he rolls his hips again, Louis relaxes, carefully spreads his fingers. He also fumbles for the lube and pours some more. He doesn't usually prepare him so thoroughly, but Harry will need it for what Louis has planned.
"There's also the whole dominance and submission aspect of it," Louis tells Liam while concentrating on spreading his fingers. Harry is taking them pretty well and Louis wonders how much longer he'd have to stretch him to fit his whole hand inside. "That's actually always present, and we don't always or only do edging, though it is a favourite of mine."
He pushes against Harry's prostate again and while he's arching, spreads his fingers some more.
Maybe it's Harry's reaction, the way he's panting heavily now, but Liam leans down to see what what Louis is doing. And freezes into place.
"Is that really necessary?"
Louis catches Harry's eyes and smirks. "It is, when he's about to get two dicks at once."
Liam frowns. "He's--oh. Oh." Liam flushes and it compliments the spreading red hue on Harry's chest. "Is that. I mean, are you sure?"
"Mmh," Louis mumbles noncommittally, more focused on Harry's reaction than on Liam.
And apparently it's not enough for Liam, because he strokes Harry's cheeks gently, until his eyes open and he tries to focus on Liam with his wide-blown pupils. "Do you want this?"
Harry nods so quickly that Liam's hand slips down to his shoulder, gripping him there. "Wanna try."
Louis pulls his his fingers out then. "On your stomach, pillow under your hips."
Harry turns immediately, falls onto the pillow he shoves into place, turn his head so Liam can see his face. There's a slight sheen of sweat on his back, his muscles rolling along with his hips and Louis wants nothing more than to push into him, the weeks they didn't do this just amplifying that need. He fumbles on a condom, then strokes down Harry's back gently, over his bum and down his thigh. It's like he's familiarising himself with every curve and dip again.
And then he's moving up, over a heaving back and broad shoulders, fingers tangling in curly hair, his body mirroring Harry's, right on top of him, and he can talk straight into Harry's ear like this, keep his voice soft and even, "I've missed you like this."
He moves his hips and with a hand and practiced ease he pushes in, watching Harry's eyes screw shut in bliss and his mouth fall open.
"Missed--yes," Harry hisses out, too overwhelmed to form anything more coherent and Louis snaps his hips, because that's exactly how he likes Harry; lost in sensation, pliant and willing, his hips turning little figure eights that get those little grunts stuck in the back of his throat.
His lips drag over Harry's nape, slightly salty but mostly Harry, his fingers slipping over Harry's hip, digging in until he arches, then some more to leave bruises. His other hand settles next to Harry and he pushes his chest up, changes the angle, goes deeper.
Harry keens, a high pitched noise that fills every corner of his bedroom, buried in the nooks and crannies like it belongs. And it does, because Louis has lucked out, and he gets to keep this and gets even more. He rests his forehead on Harry's sweaty neck, his thrust getting harsher while his cockhead still drags over that bundle of nerves inside Harry, who is writhing underneath him, mouth still open, a tiny pool of spit darkening the bedsheets because he's too gone to notice or too gone to care.
"Love you like this," he tells the shell of Harry's ear, wonders if it reaches any further.
It does, because Harry goes frantic underneath him, pushes his hands into the mattress, his torso rising, before he slumps back down, fingers scratching harshly against anything, the wooden headboard, the cotton sheets and his own skin. Harry is sobbing, broken off 'I love you, I love you, Lou's interweaving his constant keening.
"Shh, I've got you babe," Louis tells him.
He catches Harry's big hands, effortlessly pins them with his own and slows his trusts, easing up on Harry's prostate. "I love you, too," he says and absolutely means it, has meant it for weeks and weeks.
It's like a pulled plug, and Harry stops his thrashing, the wild look in his eyes receding into something calm. Louis lets go of him and sits up, still deep inside him, his hand slipping on the sweat at Harry's lower back before he's comfortable, looking down at Harry's boneless form, nothing but random tremors and his shuddery breathing moving his body now.
He leans over for another cushion, his eyes landing on Liam who's red-faced with arousal, his lip bitten raw and his hand furiously working his own cock. Louis puts a gentle hand on Liam's wrist. "Don't come yet." Liam quickly shakes his head, snatching his hand back guiltily like he hadn't meant to jerk himself off to them fucking, and Louis pulls him in for a desperate, filthy kiss. "Got something better for you."
He pulls back only to get the cushion under Harry's chest, gives him a few thrusts just to feel him clench around Louis deliciously.
"I want your hand back here," he tells Harry when he's back to a leisurely rhythm, "want you to feel where my cock is stretching you."
Harry fumbles a hand back quickly, uses the other to keep his head and torso up. He's chewing on his bottom lip, white teeth denting capped skin and opened just enough for little desperate moans to escape.
Harry slips a finger along his rim, slides it along Louis' cock, too.
"Put it in."
Harry looks over his shoulder, neck painfully twisted, his brows drawn together. "What?"
Louis chuckles, and it almost sound mean. "You heard me. Just like you did to me," he instructs.
Harry gulps but nods, probably thinks it's only fair, a quid pro quo that makes him an incredibly decent human person. He crooks his finger and pushes it in, stretching himself wider yet. The muscles in his shoulder bunch, the angle uncomfortable.
"Now do the same with your other hand."
Harry's frown deepens, confusion mixing with lust, but this time, he does as he's told, slumps forward against the pillow and brings his other hand behind himself as well, muscles jumping. There's a startled grunt when he pushes a finger from the second hand inside and Louis cants his hips, bumps against his prostate, murmuring, "good boy, doing so good, baby."
It's an awkward position for Harry, one that pushes his face down while he's holding himself open, while Louis pushes his cock in deep next to both of Harry's fingers, hears him whimper and keen.
"Liam," he says, apropos of nothing. Only not really, because he knows the tension in Harry's shoulders is high like this, knows he can't hold it too long without cramping up. "Harry's being awfully loud, yeah? I want you to give him your cock, occupy his mouth."
There's no complaining from either of them, too far gone to ask stupid questions, instead Harry tries his best to hold his head up, straining his back muscles and clenching unbelievably tight around Louis, while Liam gets down as closely to Harry's mouth as he can. For a moment it works, Liam's plumped prick pushing between Harry's pretty lips, but it slips free when Harry loses his balance and topples forward, no hands to hold him up.
Louis laughs, and this time, it really does sound mean. "You'll have to help him, Liam, hold him up." Liam shoots him a panicked look, unsure what Louis means and so his next words come out gentler. "By the hair, Liam. Get your hands in his hair and help him balance."
There's still apprehension in Liam's eyes but Harry lifts his torso up again. "Please," Harry mumbles, mouth already chasing Liam's dick. It keeps slipping away and his hands are still on his own bum, two fingers in, so he can't do anything put try again. "Please Liam, need you to help me."
Louis kisses his shoulder blade, because he likes Harry asking for what he wants. "Always so polite," he murmurs while Harry closes his lips around Liam, and Liam grabs his hair, steadies him and Harry relaxes gratefully, only to yelp around his mouthful and tense his muscles again when his scalp burns instead.
Between a rock and a hard place, Louis thinks while grinning into Harry's skin. Now that he has Harry exactly where he wants him, he starts laying into him properly, thrusting hard until there's the sound of skin slapping skin, until it almost, almost drowns out Harry's little cries, even with his mouth full.
Louis grinds into Harry hard, angling his hips again and Harry is writhing beneath him in no time, slurring sloppily around Liam's dick. He can't do much more than take it, from either of them, and Liam is gone now, too, pushing in deep when Harry doesn't complain, holding it for a second when he's all the way in, when Harry's nose is buried against his pubes and Harry can't breathe.
One of Harry's finger slips free and he's rocked and pushed too much now, fucked hard enough that he can't manage to get that finger back inside himself, even though he's trying desperately. And then he stops, grabs Louis' hip in a bruising grip, eyes wide, body twitching.
"It's fine," Louis tells him languorously, grabbing a handful of bum cheek and pushing his thumb in, too. "You can come."
Harry wrenches his head off Liam's cock, falls face first into the mattress and shouts, long and drawn out, while his body shudders and his hips stutter, tiny little rutting movements against the cushion while he comes, both his hands by his side now, rolling his shoulders and helping him fuck forward into the damp material, push back deep onto Louis' cock.
Louis keeps pushing in, gentler now to prolong Harry's orgasm. His hands slide over familiar hips and he can't stop himself from digging his fingers in again, both sides now, a lovely symmetry he always wants visibly on Harry's skin.
Harry slumps down, still twitching but those are just the aftershocks, Louis knows. He pulls out and the protest is so weak that he knows Harry is well and truly off in his own little world now. Either Louis can let him float now, or he can pull him back, intent on sending him off again, soon. And since both he and Liam are stick rock hard, the first isn't an option, isn't what he'd planned at all.
"Liam, babe, get comfortable against the headboard yeah?" Liam nods, eyes wide and glassy and Louis hides his smile, because while Zayn and Niall definitely aren't the type, he thinks Liam might want to play with them more often in the future.
He gets a condom and quickly rolls it down Liam's shaft, giving it a friendly squeeze before coating it with lube, so much that it dribbles down between Liam's thighs and onto the bedspread. It doesn't matter.
He turns Harry onto his back, throws the soiled pillow from beneath his hips to the floor before grabbing Harry in a firm grip, hands along his cheekbones.
"Hey," he says and Harry's eyes swivel to his, pupils unfocused and a silly little smile on his lips he can't help but kiss. "We aren't done yet."
Confusion flits over Harry's face, then resolve, and he leans up on his elbows, grabbing for Louis' still condom covered dick. He hisses when Harry squeezes him tight, watches Harry look at him in confusion when he quickly drags Harry's hand away.
"No."
He nods at Liam, looks at him so he doesn't have to see the hurt in Harry's eyes when Louis denies him his cock. It'll probably take some time until Harry doesn't give him that look anymore and he's the only one to blame, was the one who pushed him away the first time, after all. "Want you in Liam's lap, riding him. Can you do that for me?"
Harry nods slowly, teeth dragging over his lip. He's moving slow like a lazy morning fuck, like leaves in a soft breeze. He gets there eventually, places both hands on Liam's shoulder for balance.
"With your back to him," Louis adds under his breath. Harry freezes, his hands falling away and he swings his other leg over Liam's hips, reaching behind himself, fingers wrapping tight enough around Liam's dick that Liam has to suck in a desperate breath, his hands coming up to Harry's hips, fingers denting the fleshiest part, where Louis' marks are starting to colour the soft skin.
Meanwhile, Harry is already sinking down, gasping and moving his hips in little fucking movements that have spit accumulating in Louis' mouth. There's come on his belly, so much of it, and his little bounces have his half hard cock slap against his own skin.
"Fuck," Liam breathes out and it's so good to hear him swear. "Will never get used to this feeling."
Harry rocks some more, apparently bottoming out because he starts rotating his hips lazily instead, filthy little circles that have Louis' cock dribbling out yet more precome and Harry's mouth slack, falling back onto Liam's shoulder to make a mouthwatering display of shiny skin and gorgeous muscles.
"Li, I need you to scoot down."
Liam does, fingers digging into Harry's skin while Harry's head rolls on his shoulder, eyes closed and body pliant, always so easy after a good hard shag, like he's up for anything, doesn't care what they do.
Liam is almost flat on his back now, Harry lying on top of him, still on his lap and cock buried deep inside his arse. Liam can't really thrust up well from that position, and Harry has no leverage after Louis makes him straighten out his legs, lying long and gorgeous alongside Liam's.
Louis pours more lube, dragging the slippery mess over his own erection. Then he brings his fingers between Harry's legs, feels where Liam is stretching him, skims his fingers along that edge and coating it all in so much lube, until Harry is garbling something in the back of his throat, legs spreading easily, like he really needs this, head still tilted far back on Liam's shoulder and body held tight by Liam's strong arms around him.
Louis swallows down a tiny feeling of apprehension, knows this works, not only from bad porn but because he's tried it out himself, wouldn't do anything to Harry he hadn't done to himself first.
He kneels between their spread legs, watches Harry undulate against Liam who is just trying to keep him from toppling over either side of his body.
His fingers circle his dick, pushing the head to where Liam is already buried deep, and yeah, he knows this works, but it just doesn't look like it will fit. "Harry," he says, knows he needs something to anchor him, needs to see the first hints in Harry's eyes, should the discomforted get too much. "You have to look at me now." And his voice sounds strong, in control, and that helps, as does Harry's immediate compliance.
And then he's pressing in, eyes on Harry's, unfocused and wanting to close but holding Louis' like the good boy he is. Harry gasps when Louis' head pops in beside Liam, and then his eyes close, just for a moment, and he groans low and sexy in the back of his throat.
"Yes," he whispers when his eyes are back on Louis and Louis nods, pushing forward until three different kinds of moans fill the air in the room.
The tightness is amazing, too much, and Louis pulls back only to push forward again. Harry keens, eyes falling shut and head back on Liam's shoulder and Louis watches in utter amazement as Harry's cock fattens under the shallow thrusts, starts dribbling precome almost immediately.
Louis leans in, bites Harry's shoulder and laughs in his ear, grabs his hair while his hips find a good speed. There's sweat running down his back, accumulating at the backs of his knees but it's okay, because there's some running down Harry's forehead, slicking their skins wherever they touch.
He pulls Harry's hair again, laughs at the wince and the way Harry's dick jumps against his belly.
"I'm so glad you're such a little cockslut, baby. Gagging for it, but taking it so well, too. Perfect, just perfect for me." He's mumbling, nonsense words against Harry's skin but Harry eats it up, tightens around them until Liam clutches at them both, finds Louis' eyes over Harry's shoulder, wide and desperate and wrecked, and Louis runs a hand over Liam's forehead, sweaty too, and he laughs at that, can't help it. He drags a rough thumb over Liam's plump bottom lip, pinked up from all the biting, but Liam surprises him, sucks his finger in like he needs something in his mouth and Louis grins, because apparently Harry isn't alone.
"You can come whenever you like," he tells them and Liam immediately thrusts up one, twice, and then Louis can feel him pulsing right next to his own cock, shuddering under Harry who is just a mewling mess, pushed into his second orgasm by the lightest of touches to his cock and Louis is only a few thrusts behind, teeth gnashing so instead he leans forward, clamps them on Harry's skin where neck meets shoulder. He bites down hard when he comes, a vicious bruise he'll apologise for later, but something he needs to do right now, before he slumps forward, still shivering but tired and spent.
But he isn't done, pulls back as gently as he can and Harry frowns, like the feeling is uncomfortable enough to keep him from floating, so Louis quickly gets him off Liam, too, get it out of the way. Then he rids both himself and Liam of their condoms, throws them in the trash while getting something to wipe them down but only after leaving Liam with strict instructions to cuddle Harry while he's gone, to not bother him with questions.
His legs are shaky, knees not quite working the way they should, but he thinks that it's okay, he's allowed to feel rattled after that. He cleans them all as best he can, before falling to Harry's other side and plastering himself against his back because Harry like's being the little spoon and Liam will need to be told these things for future reference.
But for now, he just grabs Liam's bicep, feels the muscles under his fingers and strokes the skin while pushing his nose into Harry's neck and listening to Harry hum to himself.
Harry is. Well he's not sure what he is exactly. He's good. He's also hyperaware, knows Louis just got up after Zayn and Niall honestly knocked. Liam has released his grip and rolled over too, facing them. He knows he is on his back now, legs akimbo and chest aching from coming so hard. Twice. He presses his palm down on his chest and the ache disappears almost immediately.
He's sort of floating only not really. Everything is fuzzy but at the same time, each thought he has is crystal clear. He notes distantly that a few of the faces staring at him look worried. He smiles, slow like waking up, because that's just absurd. He's perfect, he's--here. He loves it here.
There's something pressing against his palm. Louis' hand. That's their signal, clench if you're okay. He squeezes his fingers slowly, lets up and squeezes them again. Like a heartbeat. A very slow heartbeat. Like a whale's.
Louis' hand disappears and Harry just flexes his fingers, marvels at the feel of them. Wonders how he isn't always aware of them. How he isn't always aware of everything the way he is now. An awareness which gives him a place in the universe and that knowledge is so unbelievably calming he experiences pure contentment, lets it wash over him in waves.
He wants to share all this with his soulmates but he can't talk, not yet. His eyes sweep over them and he sees everything, Niall's worry, Liam's jumping between blissed out and concern, and Zayn's confusion. He just smiles, because feelings for these boys, his soulmates, explode in his chest and he has to press down with his hand again, lest they tear his ribcage.
He loves them all so much. Loves Louis, who's explaining to the other three what's happening, a slight sheen of sweat on him, tiredness around the eyes.
The first time this happened, Louis had talked to him, asked him if he was okay, if it was good. And Harry loves to hear Louis talk, during normal times or during sex, because he's skilled at both and his voice. His voice is just so lovely. But it had been so jarring when he was here, in this place, this state he doesn't have a name for, like this. Even the most gently placed question too hard, too real. He'd told Louis once he could and Louis had asked a million questions over the next few days. And the next time, he'd let him float and it was. It was bliss. It's bliss now.
Harry rotates his wrist, feels it pop and is amazed by it all.
Again, there's a pressure against his palm. He squeezes. He's so, so good. He turns his head, thinks the others must find it weird, the way he moves right now, slow and choppy, but again, there's no place for second thoughts here. There's only truth here.
Louis is pressing Niall's palm against Harry's, their fingers interlacing. Harry squeezes again, smiles a slow, drugged smile and he wonders how long he's been like this, can't tell because thoughts keep flitting in and out of his mind one at a time and there's no reference. Niall opens his mouth but Louis cuts him off, reminds him not to address Harry directly just yet.
Harry grabs for Louis with his other hand, pulls him down. Every lithe movement, tiny flash of teeth and twinkle in his eyes is gorgeous. He isn't worried or scared like the others. Louis is sure. Harry pulls him right against his lips.
"Kisses," he says and the word comes out mangled. But Louis hears him, places little pecks on his lips. But Harry doesn't want that. He opens his mouth and drags his tongue over Louis' lips. Louis gets it immediately, snakes his tongue against Harry's and kisses him proper, deep and slow.
He'll explain it to the others later. It'll be weird and he'll probably feel uncomfortable but that's just how it is.
And there's so much to do, so much to organise and plan, because the world will surely want a piece of them once it comes out they're in a five-way bond, that they can not only feel, but see soulbonds when they concentrate, see them darken out the sun like when they tried earlier. Everyone will want something from them, and they'll have to make so many decisions, as a soulbond, and as a family.
There's so much, but it can't touch Harry here.
For now, all Harry really wants to do, is lie with his soulmates around him, and revel in it.
Epilogue
Liam has been gone for almost two weeks.
Two weeks without his babies, two weeks of nothing but Skype calls, catered food and lonely hotel beds.
He'd agreed to attend two big soulmeets in America, one in L. A. and one in New York. The news of their five-way bond had spread like fire and they could hardly keep up with the invitations that kept streaming in. Everyone wanted to meet them, for obvious reasons. They’re worth a lot of money nowadays and that still made him uncomfortable. Surely their ability to match soulmates should not have a price tag.
But two weeks is a long time, and while he'd been happy to help everyone he'd met, he needs this now, needs to cuddle the twins, read them their bedtime story and kiss them goodnight. Then he needs to curl up on the couch, clutching whoever is closest because he's so tired, the meetings, the flights and the jet lag finally catching up with him.
So naturally, the first thing he does after opening the front door, is almost trip over the twin's bags where they're flung by the entrance. The zip isn't done up right and one of the sippy cups is threatening to fall out. He rolls his eyes. Louis will probably never learn the concept of cleaning stuff away after returning home.
He sighs and steps over it, only taking off his shoes and putting down his luggage. Unlike Louis, he really is the sort of person to clean up right away, but there are happy shrieks coming from the living room.
Some things have preference.
He heads to the living room and is met with absolute chaos.
Niall is sitting on the couch, guitar in his lap, playing softly. Rocket, their nine-months old Siberian Husky mix is on the floor in front of him. They got him from the kennel when he was only a few weeks old, but ever since then, he's had a thing for musical instruments. Whenever someone plays, he'll sit and watch attentively until he'd start in, howling along, until the drawn out sounds started sounding like a song itself.
It's happening right now, Rocket's head thrown back, tunelessly howling along to whatever Niall is playing. Niall, of course, thinks it's the funniest thing and encourages it whenever he can. His eyes are trained on the little fluffball now, a wide grin on his face while he's nodding at the dog, stopping his singing only to praise him over and over again.
On the other side, Louis is shrieking loudly while Emma does her best to run behind him, little legs bare save for the nappy. She's shrieking as well, utter delight whenever she touches him and he flails all dramatically. Behind them, Harry is doing his best to keep up with a camera in his hand, trying to capture the moment, no doubt, but ending up running into furniture more often than not.
"Aaahh! You've got me, you've got me!" Louis yells while going down, rolling onto his back and pulling Emma on top of him. She proceeds to hit him with the flat of her hand, wherever she can reach.
She's a feisty little thing, though, and while she's still tiny there's a force to her that has not only her brother weary. Moments later Louis grabs her under the arms and lifts her up. She can't reach him like that, but shrieks anyway because there's little she likes more than on-land-swimming. She does her little swimming motions, arms and legs flung out and pulled back in again, causing Louis to almost lose his grip when her whole body moves from her efforts.
Harry is still behind the camera, grinning widely. He's so focused on the perfect shot that he doesn't see her foot coming and it hits him right in the ear. The shrieking stops as they all look at him.
"Ow," he says, dumbstruck. He reaches up with one hand to cup the side of his face.
Emma looks at him consideringly. Then she bursts into giggles and Louis joins her seconds later.
Harry joins them, still clutching his ear but falling on his back to lie next to Louis. "I'll make you pay for that," he says and reaches up to tickle her.
Emma is back to shrieking after that, squirming so much that Louis has to let her down. His eyes land on Liam and he deposits her unceremoniously on Harry's chest who is trying his best to contain the squirming bundle without her sliding off the side of his body.
And then Louis is up, running, launching himself at Liam who has just enough time to spread his arms before Louis jumps at him, his legs around his waist, face buried in his shoulder.
"Liam," he says, softly. "Missed you so much, babe."
Liam shifts, gets his hands under Louis' thighs to keep him up. It wouldn't do to drop him, Louis might not speak to him again for several days.
He smells of baby powder and sweet potato, and Liam nuzzles his neck, drags his lips across his skin. "Yeah?"
Louis leans back, almost unbalancing himself before his fingers lock behind Liam's head. "Yes," he says with conviction. He leans in for a sloppy, opened mouth kiss with far too much tongue. "It's so boring when you aren't around. We all miss you, daddy."
He's grinning his shit eating grin, because he knows how much Liam hates when they call him that, so naturally Louis does it every chance he gets.
He lets go of Louis then, lets him slowly slide down while pouting all the way.
"Missed you, too," he tells Louis honestly.
And then Harry is there, shouldering Louis out of the way. Emma is in his arms, but he still manages to lean in for a kiss of his own.
Then he takes a step back and holds their daughter out in front of him, grinning like an idiot. "Do it," he says while tilting Emma left and right, keeping her entertained while she's making grabby hands at Liam. "Touch her."
Liam frowns but reaches out, touches his daughters soft and squishy baby arm. He feels it, immediately. Feels the strong pull, feels a line. Curious, he follows it, only to recoil when he reaches it's destination.
"No," he says with wide eyes, glancing from Harry to Louis to Emma. All three of them are just grinning, Emma clearly on the verge of tipping over into a crying fit if he doesn't cuddle her soon.
He chances a look at Niall, but he just has his head thrown back, laughing at Rocket staring intently at his guitar, while Niall takes a deep drag of a joint. He takes his daughter then, cuddles her close and fixes both Louis and Harry with a stern look, like this is their fault, which it probably is. "My daughter will not bond with someone from Barcelona. No."
"You're just hung up about that match you lost against their football team. It's not a shame, really. They were much better than you."
Louis sounds so, so collected and not like Louis at all.
"When did this happen," he demands.
Harry puts a comforting hand on his arm. "You mean, when was her soulmate born? Two days ago. Niall felt it first, when he lifted her out of her crib."
Liam takes a step back, clutching Emma to him, who happily wraps her arms around his neck and busies herself with blowing wet raspberries against his skin.
This is. This is just a bit much. Of course he knew that their babies' soulmates would have to surface sooner or later. And considering that the five have the strongest sense of a soulbond in the entire world, he'd known he'd feel it one day.
Just, not now. She's too young. He doesn't want to even think about it all.
"Don't worry," Harry says, leaning against him heavily. "Louis already decreed that she's only allowed to go on dates with her soulmate once she's twenty-five."
"That," Liam starts, adjusting the weight of Emma on his hip while looking at Louis. "Sounds like a bloody brilliant idea."
"Right?" Louis agrees.
Harry rolls his eyes. "The two of you are aware that she'll lose her virginity before then, yes?"
He shares a horrified look with Louis before they both clutch their ears and start chanting ‘la la la I can’t hear you’, something Emma immediately jumps in on, little hands pressed to her ears while she shouts along nonsensically.
Harry just rolls his eyes at them. "Whatever. You two continue to be idiots, I'm taking a shower."
"I totally have your back on this, Li." Louis claps him on the shoulder, hard. "No dating before she's twenty-five."
He winks, before taking after Harry, telling him to get the camera and pulling funny faces when Harry tries to take pictures of his bum.
Zayn takes that moment to step in through the door leading in from the back garden, Thomas on his hip. They both survey the others slowly. Niall and Rocket are both howling now, and Harry is holding the camera high above his head, cackling when Louis can't reach it.
Almost completely in sync, both Zayn's and Thomas' eyes narrow and their mouths terse, like it's just all too much insanity for them, like they are the only sane ones here. They'd look solemn if their clothes weren't stained head to toe with paint, Zayn with several pudgy handprints on his cheek, his hair sticking up where paint has dried.
His eyes land on Liam and he heads over quickly.
"Hi," Zayn says, almost breathlessly, a faint blush now high on his cheekbones, just for Liam.
Liam smiles but kisses his son's head first, happy that he doesn't feel a soulmate off in the distance as well. Then he leans in, kissing Zayn, tipping his chin back, tongue slow and deep. They have to pull apart soon after, because the twins are having none of it, trying to hit each other over their heads.
"Good trip?" Zayn asks. He smiles, and he's still the most breathtakingly beautiful thing Liam has ever seen. He cups Zayn's cheek with his free hand, runs his thumb over a multicoloured cheekbone.
"Missed you," Liam admits, thinking of the nights in the hotel room, alone and so much quiet surrounding him it almost drove him insane.
Zayn leans in for another quick kiss. "Have us back now, babe."
And then Niall is there, taking Thomas and perching him on a hip, leaning up for his own kiss. "My turn to bathe the babies tonight."
Zayn looks at him sharply. "Are you stoned?"
They have very strict rules about the consumption of weed and alcohol in conjunction with handling the babies. Zayn had implemented them, and the whiteboard with the bullet points is still hung up over their couch.
"It's okay," Liam says gently. "Harry and Louis are showering. They'll help."
Niall just scoffs and takes Emma from him, perching her on his other hip. He's good at holding the babies now, even both at the same time, but it had taken all their combined input to teach him. He doesn't even blink an eye when Emma clutches his hair and pulls hard. "Like I'd let anything happen to them. Jeez, you're such a mother hen."
Zayn has the decency to blush slightly at that. "Sorry," he mumbles and presses an apologetic kiss to Niall's lips.
Niall just shrugs. "Eh," he says, heading to the bathroom with the kids in his arms, Rocket right behind him. "You can make it up to me tonight.”
"Tonight?" Liam questions, wrapping his arms around Zayn and pulling him closer.
Zayn nods, all innocent Bambi eyes and the devil's smirk. "Tonight," he starts, dragging out the word. "El and Perry are watching the babies. Taking them to their place."
And now the bags at the front door make sense. Still, Liam had wanted to put them to bed tonight. He pouts.
Zayn must understand, because he slides his hands up the back of his shirt, blunt nails dragging over Liam's skin. "We've missed you," he says with a pout of his own, and damn if it isn't far more effective than Liam's. "We wanted a night alone, just us five."
He bites down on his bottom lip and looks up at Liam from underneath his lashes. It's blatantly put on, and the coloured stains on his skin should lessen the effect. Only they don't, it's still incredibly sexy and gets Liam every time.
And maybe, he thinks while hoisting Zayn up on the nearby table so he can wrap his legs around Liam's waist while they have a proper snog, maybe, that's exactly how they should be spending their evening.