“I’m going to die,” Harry says quite seriously after throwing back another shot. “You’re all murderers.”
“So it’s our fault you’re a slag,” Louis says.
“Really, Harry?” Liam asks, far more sternly than he has any right to be given that he drank to Never have I ever fucked an ex. “Two on the same night?”
Harry lifts his hand with his pinkie tucked under his thumb so three fingers are showing.
Someone pelts him in the back of the head with a throw cushion.
“It was 2012,” Harry cries out. “I can’t be blamed.”
“Do threesomes count?” Niall asks, fingers wrapped around a full shot glass.
“Does it change your answer?” Liam asks.
“Nope,” Niall says and then swallows the shot.
“Heathens,” Louis says, “the whole lot of you.” He’s still mostly sober.
Zayn also takes a shot, quietly.
“Here,” Lou says, picking up the vodka bottle that is nearest to her. “Refills.” They’re using little plastic shot glasses, which only hold the equivalent of about half a shot, which is probably the only reason Harry isn’t dead already. Lou puts three more shots in front of him, pointedly eyeing his ever growing pile of empties.
“Louise,” Harry whines. “Don’t give me so many.”
She laughs. “That’s hardly going to cover you for the next round.”
“Rude,” Harry says. He doesn’t understand a world where he’s the only one who had to drink to Never have I ever fucked someone more than 15 years older than me. And Never have I ever used a household item that was not intended for sex while having sex? That should have been everyone!
His suspicion is that people are cheating.
“Never have I ever watched myself in a mirror while someone was giving me head,” Lou says with a mostly straight face.
Harry’s mouth drops open. “I told you that in confidence,” he grits out.
Lou tilts her head to the side, shrugs one shoulder and clucks her tongue.
Harry winces as he swallows his shot. Meanwhile, Niall, Liam, Zayn and Louis all do the same.
“You lot are the worst bunch I have ever met,” Lou says.
“I couldn’t help it, I was in the bathroom,” Louis says.
“I just wanted to see if my face did anything weird,” Liam lies blatantly.
“Mirrored ceiling,” Niall says, and just shrugs to the chorus of what?’s.
“What?” Zayn asks when he realizes everyone’s waiting for his answer. He offers nothing further.
“Fine,” Harry says. “My turn.” He thinks for a minute. “Never have I ever been fucked up the arse,” he finally says, rubbing his palms over his thighs in delight. He’s been trying to get this out of Lou for ages, and now he’s got her. Ha!
“Oh, look my phone is ringing,” Lou says. She stands.
“Noo,” Harry says, throwing himself across the circle and grasping uselessly at the air as Lou neatly lifts her heel out of his reach. “Someone stop her!”
But no one does.
He props his chin up on his hand and sighs loudly.
It’s only because he’s still sprawled out on the floor that he notices Zayn take a shot.
“No, no,” Harry says, although it’s already too late because Zayn is swallowing. “I meant up the arse.”
“That’s what you said,” Zayn agrees.
“Up the,” Harry says. “I mean. Fucked.”
“Get this drunkie to bed,” Louis says.
“You’re pissed, mate,” Liam says.
“I meant getting fucked,” Harry says, rolling himself onto his back. It still seems like too much work to sit up. “Not fucking. Not doing the fucking.” His shirt has ridden up, so he uses the opportunity to check the status of his bellybutton. Pretty good, he decides, after dipping his finger carefully inside.
“Right,” Zayn says.
“We all owe Zayn a shot,” Harry decides, finally finding the energy to sit. “He didn’t understand.”
“No, I understood, mate,” Zayn says. His brow is wrinkled, but that might be because Harry’s still got his finger in his belly button as he tries to sit up.
“Getting fucked,” Harry says again. Seriously. How does everyone think that he’s the drunk one. “You. He didn’t understand. We have to do penalty shots.”
“Oh my god,” Louis says. “Everyone knew what you were asking. Zayn’s been fucked. Stop nattering on.” He throws an empty beer can at Harry’s head, and then reaches over to give Zayn a quick fist bump.
“How do you know?” Harry asks.
“Because he told me.”
Harry looks at Zayn. “You’ve been fucked up the arse?” he says slowly. “Like with a cock?”
“You’re so bad at this game,” Niall says, cuffing Harry on the back of the head. “Leave him alone.”
“It’s my turn,” Louis says after he throws another empty at Harry’s head. That one turned out to be not completely empty and Harry ends up with a splash of beer on his cheek. He gives Louis a mournful look before returning to his seat in the ring of the circle.
“Hmm,” Louis says. He seems to be looking directly at Harry, which is making Harry concerned. “Never have I ever got caught in the middle of a threesome by my dad.”
Harry moans while everyone else starts laughing.
“You’re cheating,” Harry says. “Stop cheating.” And then he downs another shot.
He’s hungover the next day, and mopes about pitifully until Louis brings him some tablets and a cup of tea.
“I don’t forgive you,” Harry says as he leans against Louis’s shoulder, sipping on tea as they watch telly together in the back of the bus.
“You’ve got to go easy on Zayn, okay?” Louis says when the ads come on. “I think he’s still figuring some stuff out.”
“I think I’ve got alcohol poisoning,” Harry says. “What exactly do you think I’m going to get up to?”
“I know you, Styles. Like a dog with a bone. But leave Zayn’s bone out of it.”
And Harry means to, of course he does. He’s a good friend, unlike certain other people he could name who blatantly conspire against him.
But, once he’s had another three cups of tea and the painkillers have done their job, he starts thinking about last night again, going over Zayn’s answers. Had he said yes to anything else that was interesting? Harry can’t remember. The night has hazed together in a boozy blur, except the one point of crystal clarity: Zayn drinking to being fucked in the arse.
Harry can’t stop thinking about it. He’s wearing his softest sweater, the sleeves rolled up four times around his wrists, and he rolls them again just for something to do with his hands. His head still aches faintly, but it’s in the tolerable way, just another reminder of the fun from last night. He’ll just go find Zayn quickly. Just a little chat.
“Never have I ever sucked a dick,” Harry says, cornering Zayn on the bus.
“Yes, you have,” Zayn says. “We all heard about it afterwards.”
“Well, I think I did a good job,” Harry says, and then adds pointedly, “and that it’s nice to share.”
Zayn shakes his head, but after Harry stares him down for a moment longer, he rolls his eyes and then mimes picking up a shot glass and tossing it back. He even pretends to pass Harry the empty afterward.
“Right,” Harry says faintly, hand still poised in the air as he holds Zayn’s pretend shot glass.
“Cheers,” Zayn says and then slips away.
It’s just that now Harry knows he can’t take anything for granted. Zayn has secrets; he’s always had secrets. But he opens up when asked direct questions. Harry hadn’t realized he was meant to be asking, but now that he knows, he can’t stop.
“Never have I ever come on someone’s face,” Harry asks before the show. Zayn’s wearing his stage clothes, but his hair is still soft and unstyled.
Zayn sighs, but he accepts the imaginary shot glass Harry hands to him and mimes drinking it down. He gestures to Harry, so Harry swallows an imaginary shot of his own.
“You ready, love?” Lou asks, hairdryer in hand.
Zayn nods and follows after her.
“Never have I ever got someone off with only my tongue,” Harry asks as they’re waiting for the elevator at the hotel. There is a small crowd of people around them, but it’s noisy and Harry keeps his voice quiet, so no one seems to hear. “Like no hands at all.”
“Boy or girl,” Zayn asks.
“Girl,” Harry says.
Zayn pretends to take a shot glass off the imaginary bar in front of them and tips it back.
“Boy,” Harry says immediately after.
“You didn’t take a shot,” Zayn says. The elevator doors are just starting to open.
“No,” Harry says. And again, “Boy?”
“No,” Zayn says and walks into the elevator.
“Never have I ever got caught having sex.”
They’re at the empty venue and it’s still hours before the show. Niall’s riding around on his segway and Louis is chasing after him in a golf cart, but Harry found Zayn sitting in the bleachers.
“You know I have,” Zayn says, looking forward at the empty stage while Harry sits beside him.
They never talked about it, all the nights they ended up in the same hotel room with different girls.
“So you take a shot,” Harry says. “Glug.” He pretends to take one of his own.
Zayn is motionless for a moment but then he takes a pretend shot, swallowing nothing back quickly.
“Never have I ever got off more than five times in a day,” Harry says. Louis has chased Niall backstage and the arena is suddenly much quieter.
“Alone or with someone else?” Zayn asks.
“With someone else,” Harry says. He’s trying to keep his voice even, but it ends up cracking instead.
Zayn picks up a pretend shot.
“Alone,” Harry says.
Zayn takes another shot.
“What’s, like, the most?” Harry asks.
“That’s not how you play the game,” Zayn says.
Harry doesn’t say anything else. He watches Zayn’s profile. Zayn glances over at him briefly, before turning his head back toward the stage.
“Like seven times,” Zayn says.
Harry nods. He’s trying to think up the next question and it surprises him when Zayn follows it with, “How about you?”
“I think eleven,” Harry says.
“Jesus, mate.” Zayn snorts, and leans sideways to press his shoulder into Harry’s briefly.
“I was sixteen,” Harry says. “I had the house to myself.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t pull it right off.”
“It was all day,” Harry says. “Like literally right from when I woke up.” Zayn’s still looking toward the stage, but if he glanced over it would be obvious how hard Harry is, the line of his cock clearly visible in his trousers.
“Still,” Zayn says.
“It got a bit raw,” Harry allows.
“I like that, though,” Harry says. “You know, when it’s like so sensitive it hurts a bit.”
Zayn’s quiet for so long that Harry thinks he’s not going to answer, but finally he says, “Yeah, I know.” He gets to his feet after that, but he squeezes Harry on the shoulder before he walks away.
They’re at a bar so they’ve got actual drinks in front of them this time. Louis is occupied trying to get Liam to dance on the bar and Niall has made fast friends with the bartender so it’s just Zayn at the booth with Harry, their security standing at a careful distance.
Harry’s got a lemon fizz in front of him, Zayn a pint. The game is meant to be played with shots, but that will be good enough.
“Never have I ever wanked when someone else was in the room.” Harry doesn’t know at first if Zayn is going to play. He’s been in one of his snappy moods all day, like maybe the lack of sleep is starting to catch up with him. Zayn isn’t as moody as he used to be, but he still recharges by drawing in on himself. It just makes Harry want to poke harder at him, to get a little deeper.
Zayn runs his fingers through the condensation gathering on his pint glass.
“Like with a lover?” he asks.
“A lover,” Harry repeats.
Zayn rolls his eyes defensively and takes a breath like he’s going to speak.
“No,” Harry says quickly. “I like that.”
Zayn closes his mouth, placated. He’s wearing a henley with half the buttons open, and Harry can see almost all of his chest piece. Zayn looks down at his pint, then lifts it to his mouth and takes a long sip.
Harry sucks at his own drink through the little straw.
“What about with someone who wasn’t a lover?” Harry asks.
Zayn’s got a better poker face than anyone Harry knows, and just from looking at him, no one would be able to tell he was thinking about anything than how nice it was to take another sip of beer.
Harry only hides when he wants to. He lets his jaw drop open, scandalized.
“Was it me?” Harry asks. “Was it Louis?”
“I’m going to be done this drink soon,” Zayn says, tipping his almost-empty glass to swirl around the last of his beer.
Harry lifts his arm immediately, flags down the waiter, orders another round.
“Never have I ever fucked someone in a car,” Harry says, taking a sip of his new drink.
“Obviously,” Zayn says, drinking his as well.
“So-rry,” Harry says. He sets his drink down and picks up his napkin, trying to decide what to ask next. “Okay, fine. Never have I ever --”
“I’ve got one,” Zayn interrupts, pushing Harry’s drink back towards him. “Never have I ever pestered my bandmate until he was ready to bend me over the nearest flat surface and fuck me senseless.”
Harry’s mouth goes dry. He licks his lips and tries not to squirm, even though his suddenly hard dick is pressing painfully into the seam of his jeans.
“I don’t, um.” Harry pauses to swallow. “Are you going to -- Do I take a drink?”
“I’m calling it a night,” Zayn says, reaching for his jacket, which is lying on the booth beside him.
“Zayn,” Harry starts.
“If you see Louis, tell him I’m back on the bus,” Zayn says.
Harry nods. The half-full glass is still sitting on the table in front of him. Zayn slides on his jacket and adjusts the collar. He squints at the crowd until he finds his security guard, nods that he’s ready to go, but before he pushes to his feet, he says quietly, “Yes, you drink,” and then just like that he’s gone.
Harry stares at the glass for a long time before he snatches it up and chugs the rest back.
The bar seems noisy all of the sudden, now that Zayn’s not there to take up all of Harry’s attention. Louis and Liam have their arms around each other and are swaying madly, which either means they’re about to start a singalong or that someone’s in danger of losing a nipple. Harry could stay to see how the rest of the night played out here, but instead he nods for his own security guard and they walk back to the hotel.
“Wait,” Harry says before they walk inside the building. “I want to go to the bus instead.”
Zayn’s alone on the bus. He’s taken off his trousers and he’s just in tight black pants and the same henley from earlier, like he didn’t get all the way through changing for bed.
The bus is silent for once, the security guards outside, the rest of the lads still at the pub. Zayn’s quiet too. He doesn’t look surprised to see Harry, just returns Harry’s stare.
Harry thinks he might have finally run out of things to say. He tries to pull together a coherent thought, but before he can, Zayn’s closing the distance between them, cupping Harry’s cheeks between his palms and pulling him down for a hard kiss. It tastes like Zayn just brushed his teeth. Harry’s hands go immediately to the hem of Zayn’s shirt and pull it off, breaking the kiss only momentarily to get the shirt over Zayn’s head. Harry’s never the most dressed person in the room, but it’s fucking hot how easy it is to strip Zayn down.
Zayn’s stubble burns Harry’s cheeks, but he presses even deeper into the kiss. Zayn makes a low sound, his hips bumping up against Harry’s even though he’s only in pants and Harry’s still in his jeans.
Harry breaks the kiss briefly to tug off his own shirt. They’re in the lounge and when they start kissing again, Zayn backs Harry up against the table.
Harry slides his hands down Zayn’s bare back and feels the wooden edge of the table digging into his arse. He tilts his head back to let Zayn press wet kisses down his neck, then scratches gently at the hair at the base of Zayn’s skull until Zayn lifts his head again.
“Did you mean what you said?” Harry asks.
It takes Zayn a minute to get what he was asking but when he does, he gives Harry the most wicked smile.
“Yeah,” Zayn says. He steps back only long enough to strip off Harry’s shirt, dropping briefly to his knees to help ease Harry’s skinny jeans all the way off and give the head of Harry’s cock a quick hard suck before standing up again. He grabs Harry’s hips, spins him around and pushes on Harry’s lower back until Harry’s bent over the table. He’s still wearing his boxers but Harry can clearly feel the line of Zayn’s cock when he grinds up against Harry’s arse.
“Stay down, okay, babe?” Zayn asks.
Harry nods into his own forearms, the tips of his hair brushing against his skin. All hunched in like this, he can hear the sound of his own breathing, which has already gone ragged.
He thinks Zayn might be gone for a long time and wonders if he’s going to start feeling awkward bent over like this, but Zayn’s back almost immediately. He comes up behind Harry, and Harry feels his skin break out in goosebumps.
Zayn touches his lower back, cups his hands over Harry’s arse, takes his time stroking over Harry’s skin until Harry’s biting at his own forearm to try to keep quiet. Finally Zayn uncaps the bottle of lube and rubs at Harry’s hole. Harry feels completely exposed bent over like this even though his face is hidden. When Zayn finally slides a finger inside, Harry slaps at the table, jerking involuntarily.
“Alright, love?” Zayn asks.
“Yeah, just --” Harry cuts himself off.
Harry focuses on his breathing. In and out, in and out. Zayn’s finger is still inside of his arse, hardly moving but the pressure still feels incessant. He adds another finger.
“Nothing,” Harry says. His thighs ache from being bent over and he widens his stance to try to make it a little easier.
“Just what?” Zayn asks again. He flattens his free hand between Harry’s shoulders. His palm is warm and steady. “Tell me.”
“Just --” Harry’s breath catches as Zayn curls his fingers. “Just fuck me.”
Zayn twists his fingers again and Harry grunts.
“Do you have a condom?” Harry asks, slower than ever as he tries to keep his voice steady.
“Yeah,” Zayn says. He sounds breathless as well. “You’re ready?”
“Uh huh,” Harry says and then makes a sound that is a lot like a whimper.
Both of Zayn’s hands leave Harry when he goes to take off his pants and put the condom on. Harry tries to push his hair out of his face but it’s a lost cause. He bends one leg and then the other, cracking each knee in turn, stretches his arms out and then braces himself again, elbows and palms flat on the table. Zayn’s thighs brush against Harry’s but that’s the only warning before his cock is sliding up the split of Harry’s arse.
Harry closes his eyes and bites down on his lower lip. Zayn’s cock rubs up against his hole, a growing pressure that blooms into a sharp ache when it finally pushes inside. It feels weird, weird, weird. It hurts and Harry can’t breathe. He can’t see anything but the table, and he’d worry about losing his footing but Zayn’s got a tight grip on his hips. He’s going slow. Harry can tell he’s being careful.
Zayn pushes all the way inside and pauses, rocking his hips minutely, letting the burn drag into something duller. Zayn ducks to press a kiss at the nape of Harry’s neck and then he starts fucking him properly, little jabs with his hips that draw a sound out of Harry every single time.
Harry’s sweating and Zayn’s grip on his hips keeps sliding, so he puts his hand on the table instead, right by Harry’s elbow. With Zayn bent over him like this, every thrust is hard and slow, his hips rocking into the meat of Harry’s arse.
“Deep,” Harry rasps out. He doesn’t know if he wants Zayn to ease up or to give it to him faster, but instead of doing either Zayn reaches around with his free hand and grabs Harry’s cock. He was flagging a little but it takes hardly anything before he’s hard as ever in Zayn’s hand. Just like that, Harry wants to grind down on every part of himself that feels raw, wants to chase after the flare and let it burn him up.
He rocks back into Zayn, arching his back to make the angle a little better. Zayn starts fucking him harder, letting his hips push Harry’s cock into the tight grip of his fist. Harry’s thighs are trembling but he can’t stop rocking back, even as Zayn fucks him hard enough that the table bangs into the wall.
Zayn rubs his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock, just one rough sweep but it’s enough to make Harry come. Harry has to lock his knees so he doesn’t fall right to the floor. It feels like he comes for a very long time and Zayn doesn’t let up at all. Zayn fucks him even harder and then his thrusts get unsteady as he comes as well, his hips rocking slower and slower until finally he’s just grinding as deep as he can.
Zayn stays there for a minute, sucks a line of kisses along the top of Harry’s shoulder and then eases himself out.
When Zayn steps back, Harry tries to stand up as well, but his legs are jelly and he slides right to the floor.
“Oopsie daisy,” Zayn says and then drops right down beside Harry.
“Oh my god,” Harry says, rolling onto his back and stretching his legs out. “My heart is pounding so hard right now.”
“I hope you locked the door,” Zayn says.
“I did,” Harry says. “I think I did.”
They lie in silences for long minutes. Harry keeps waiting for his body to calm down, but his heart is still pounding so hard in his chest. He rolls over onto his side, facing away from Zayn.
“Never have I ever … done that before,” Harry says. He keeps his head down so his hair hides his face but peeks over his shoulder.
“Do you want a drink?” Zayn asks. He’s completely motionless but he squints one eye open like he might be convinced to move if Harry asked nice enough.
“No, I mean like. I haven’t,” Harry says. “I’ve never.”
Zayn’s silent for a long moment, but then he rolls over, snuggling up behind Harry and wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist.
“You alright?” Zayn asks, and kisses Harry’s shoulder.
Zayn’s cock is pressing at Harry’s arse, not quite all the way soft yet. It feels intimate to be pressed skin to skin together like this.
“Yeah,” Harry says. He arches his back and feels Zayn’s cock slide more firmly against his arse. Zayn’s fingers twitch against Harry’s chest. Harry rocks back again.
“You want to go again?” Zayn asks.
“Yeah,” Harry says and goes easily when Zayn slides in between his thighs.