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It's getting harder to ignore.

They're all trying, keeping their eyes fixed on the TV, but Niall is pretty sure that nobody is following the movie anymore. There are two characters having an intense conversation on the screen right now and he has no idea who they even are. It's kind of hard to focus, when Harry and Louis are all over each other, Harry straddling Louis's lap and the two of them making out in a way that gives Niall the impression it's not exactly their final destination.

And, the thing is, it's not like it's the first time. They've done this before. They've done worse before. Just yesterday they were all hanging out in the hotel suite between appointments, he and Liam playing on the Xbox while Zayn watched and Harry and Louis napped on the bed behind them—only they weren't napping, not for long anyway. Gradually Niall became aware of the sounds of them shifting about, more than they would be if they were sleeping, and then those sounds became quiet little moans, and by then it was pretty clear that under the covers there were hands down pants.

They'd all kind of exchanged glances when they realised, but not said anything about it, and Niall couldn't really bring himself to be all that offended because he knows how difficult it is for Harry and Louis to actually get the chance to do anything these days, especially when they're tired and touring and never really left alone. Okay, maybe the courteous thing to do would've been to go to their own room, but they were sleepy and didn't have long, and thought the others were distracted enough. Niall could understand that.

This is a little different, though. Liam and Zayn are sitting right next to them—Niall perched on the end of the bed behind the sofa—and so it's not really like they're making an effort to hide it. Not that they usually try and hide it when they're making out, they do that in the same room as the others all the time, but it never really feels like it's leading to anything, and this—this really does. And it's not normal.

But then, on some level, he knows that none of this is really normal—sure, if you're good mates with two people who happen to be a couple, you're gonna see some displays of affection now and again, but there was a point sometime in the recent past when he's pretty sure they crossed some kind of line. He's just not sure when it was. Or if they can ever go back from it now.


Zayn's sitting at the opposite end of the sofa to Harry and Louis, Liam between them. He's got his feet up on the coffee table and he's been in this position for at least twenty minutes now and his legs are really starting to ache, but it feels like they're all caught in some kind of spell, frozen stiff, and it's easier to pretend this way—if they all start moving around or talking then the atmosphere will break. But at the same time he feels like they can't exactly stay like this forever—someone's going to have to acknowledge the situation eventually.

It feels kind of familiar in an odd way, because there have been so many other situations like this ever since Harry and Louis got together. It's not like Harry and Louis are exhibitionists or anything but seeing as they've got to hide their relationship all the time in public, it doesn't seem fair for the guys to insist they do the same around them. Especially considering it's not like any of them care; it's actually pretty sweet to see them being so affectionate with each other, so obviously in love, and the boys want to give them a safe space for that.

But it has brought up some issues. There are all those times he wakes up in the night on the tour bus and senses that something's different, and then hears odd muffled noises and realises that one of the boys has sneaked into the other's bunk. And that's fine; he just ignores it and goes back to sleep, maybe ribs on them a little the next morning at breakfast but that's it. And then there was the time they were all playing cards in the evening and Harry and Louis went off to bed uncharacteristically early, and after a while they realised they could hear them, like the boys weren't making their usual efforts to keep quiet this time. It got to the point where none of them could ignore it any longer, and Zayn laughed first, putting his head in his hands, and that set them all off.

"They know we can hear them, right?" Liam had said, still grinning, flushing high in his cheeks and shuffling through his cards.

"I think they have to," said Niall, shaking his head as another loud moan reverberated around the bus. "The question is whether or not they care."

Zayn took another swig of his beer. "I think what we're hearing," he said, "is the sound of them not giving a fuck." Then he caught himself. "I mean, there are definitely fucks being given, but—" and then they all cracked up again.

It wasn't even that uncomfortable once they acknowledged it, and when Harry wandered through a few minutes later in Louis's boxers to rummage around for a snack, Niall called out "Worked up an appetite, eh?" and they all dissolved into giggles, and pretty much everything was fine. Even the other day, when he was pretty sure the two of them were exchanging handjobs under the covers when they were supposed to be resting—that wasn't that awkward, though he's pretty sure it should've been.

But this is different; now they're right next to them, in plain sight. Zayn can see the way Harry's moving on Louis's lap, gently rocking against him, and he wonders if they're hard, and if they are, what they're going to do about it. He wonders if they expect the others to leave, and somehow he knows they're not going to.


Liam shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead even though he literally has no clue what is happening in the movie anymore. He's not sure he's ever seen Harry and Louis like this before, charged and desperate, practically rutting against each other like they don't care that they're not alone. He's never been so close while it's been happening, anyway, and that's what's really overwhelming, the way he can hear their heavy breath and the sound of their kissing and this little keening sound in Harry's throat. Every now and then they shift a little and Harry's knee bumps Liam's thigh.

It wouldn't be that hard, he thinks, to just get up and leave—but he feels frozen to the spot and he doesn't know why. What if he leaves, and Zayn and Niall don't follow? He doesn't want to come across like he's the only one who has a problem with this, especially because he's not sure he actually does, he just—he feels like he should. He's always the one to try and fix things if they get out of hand, the one to point it out if something's going to get dangerous or messy or awkward. And this seems like it's going to be all three, and yet he can't seem to make himself say something, not even a casual all right lads, cool it down a bit. In a strange way he feels like he was expecting this to happen at some point, like he's already accepted it in some distant part of his brain.

He's been trying really hard not to look at them, but then he starts thinking that maybe they wouldn't even notice because they're so lost in each other, and he lets his eyes glance sidelong, just for a split-second, and—then he's absolutely certain that this isn't something they should all just allow to happen. Because he sees the way they're all flushed and sweaty and grinding on each other and he thinks, desperately, oh shit, oh no, oh shit because he realises then that there actually isn't actually a single part of him that wants to put a stop to this.


Harry can't hold back his groan when Louis reaches between them, cupping Harry's crotch and rubbing his hard-on through his jeans. And like, okay, he knows that the others are right there and it'd probably be more considerate to keep quiet, but then again nothing about this is terribly considerate. Louis rubs harder with his palm, pressing the seam of Harry's jeans against his erection, and Harry moans a little louder, unable to stop himself.

"Can't actually hear the movie if you keep doing that, Hazza," Zayn says, then, without looking up. "Just saying."

Niall laughs first, an outburst of it, ridiculous-sounding—he's clearly relieved someone's actually acknowledged what's happening, finally—and the others join in, partly out of relief too, and partly out of genuine amusement.

"Turn it up, then," says Harry, but he realises even as he says it that they won't—the remote is on the coffee table behind him, far enough away from Liam and Zayn that they'd have to really lean over, close, to reach it. And somehow he knows that's not about to happen.

Louis is smiling at him, leaning back in to rub their noses together, brush their lips. "We're gonna do this, aren't we?" he murmurs, and Harry feels his face split into a smile, glad that one of them has said it, because yeah, yeah, they're gonna do this.

"Mmm." He kisses Louis again, even more fiercely this time, shifting on his lap. They've both been hard for a little while now, and it's starting to get unbearable—Harry can feel the stiff ache of Louis's cock through his sweats, and every time he moves a little they press against each other and it feels so good.

Zayn says sarcastically, "Thanks for the warning," but Harry notices he doesn't actually move or anything.

He pulls back a little, reaching down between his own body and Louis's, hand smoothing over the crotch of Louis's trousers. Louis's chin tilts up and he bites his lip, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

"That good?"

"Could be better, babe," Louis bites out with a smirk, shooting a sideways glance at Liam, which Liam does not return.

Harry's hands spread out to Louis's hips, and he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of the sweatpants. "Want me to take these off?"

Louis hesitates, swallowing, licking his lips. "Yeah," he murmurs then, "go on."

Harry tugs, slipping off Louis's lap and onto the coffee table in order to pull the trousers down fully—Louis hitches his bum off the sofa, grinning at him when he realises that Harry has (not entirely accidentally) caught hold of his boxers at the same time. Harry pulls them right off, crumpling them into a ball before tossing them aside, staring down at Louis's erection, flushed and thick where it rests against his stomach. He wants to take it into his mouth, which is pretty much his immediate reaction every time.

He shoots a cursory glance at the others and sees that they've all still got their eyes on the TV—which is polite of them—and then slides down into the gap between the sofa and coffee table, squeezing himself between Louis's open legs. Louis is smiling down at him in that fond way that makes it difficult to concentrate on anything else, he feels such an overwhelming swell of love and pride, but he forces himself to focus. He leans in a little, lets his breath ghost over Louis's erection and watches the way it jerks forward a little, towards his mouth. Louis reaches out, hand cupping his head and sliding up into his hair, fingers combing through curls.

"Go on," he says softly, encouragingly, and Harry grins up at him, flicking out his tongue. He can't help but feel like he's under some extra pressure with the others here, even if they're not watching, but the look on Louis's face and the soothing fingers stroking through his hair urge him on.


Louis's heart hammers as Harry's head dips, as his mouth covers the head of Louis's cock and sucks gently. He's so aware of Liam right next to him; a hand's span away, and it feels so wrong and so right all at once. Or—maybe not right, exactly, but normal in some way that makes him a little bit uncomfortable. It shouldn't be like this. They shouldn't be so comfortable with each other that something like this is allowed to happen without anyone completely freaking out. That has to be a sign that they've all gotten too close, that they need some time apart.

He wonders if he's the one who should put a stop to it, but just because he's the oldest doesn't mean he's the most sensible, it's Liam's job to keep them all in check and all Liam's doing right now is sitting there, somehow managing to stare fixedly at the TV with an utter lack of focus written all over his face.

He reaches out, stroking Liam's thigh slightly, and Liam flinches. "You okay, mate?" he tries to say, but he's about halfway through the question when Harry decides to take him in a little deeper and then the sentence dissolves into a sort of strangled groan.

"Yeah," Liam croaks, and then clears his throat and says it again, but Louis barely hears him; Harry's slick mouth full and tight, and he gazes down at him almost blearily. He loves the way his lips get so flushed and red, loves the way his voice sounds after he's been sucking him off, even deeper than usual, wrecked and raw. Suddenly he wants the other lads to see that, hear that, and the desire catches him off guard with its strength. It's just—there's something really beautiful about it, in a weird way, and he suddenly wants to share it, but the others are still watching the film intently and Louis wonders how they can possibly be following it. He has literally no idea what's happening right now, and he's not sure he ever did.

Harry's lips are sliding over him, taking him a little deeper each time, and Louis knows he can take him all the way, just needs to work up to it. Suddenly he wants the others to know that as well, because it seems like a skill, and Louis wonders if they'd be impressed.

Harry pulls off, lips shining with his spit and Louis's pre-come, and fuck, he looks up at Louis almost bashfully, incongruously innocent, before taking a deep breath and going back down, and Louis feels the tight heat enveloping him gradually until Harry's nose is pressed against pubic hair and Louis's hips are bucking uncontrollably.

"I've literally never met a girl who can do that," says Zayn suddenly in a stunned voice, bringing Louis abruptly out of it, and it's instinct to look right at him but also a mistake, because fuck, he's getting a blowjob and looking Zayn right in the eye, "I mean, without making that weird throat sound, y'know, like—" Zayn seems slightly flustered by the sudden eye contact as well, as he starts making an awful gagging sound in his throat.

Harry splutters, pulling off suddenly, cracking up, and then everyone is laughing and the tension is broken—at least, a little, Louis thinks—and Harry is wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the upturned quirk of his lips still reddened and slightly swollen, and he's blushing like he's proud of himself, and that's—Louis doesn't even know what it is, he just wants his dick back inside Harry's mouth.


Niall can't really see properly anymore, just the back of Louis's head, but obviously he knows what's happening and he's not entirely sure what to do with the information. He keeps having to fight the urge to laugh, because in so many ways this feels totally ridiculous, the way they're all desperately trying to act like it's no big deal when it clearly is. And the worst part is that he can't even catch anyone's eye; they're all facing away from him now except Harry, whose head is buried between Louis's legs. What Zayn just said keeps going round in his head because he's never met a girl who could deepthroat like that either, he didn't even know that's what Harry was doing because there was no sign of it, no awkward sounds or anything.

He tries to tell himself he could've lived his whole life without knowing Harry was so good at giving head but the truth is, he probably couldn't have. The five of them living the way they do—it would've come up sooner or later, he's sure. And it's comforting to tell himself that, that this was just inevitable. The way things have been going lately, they may as well just be in the same room while Harry and Louis mess around.

There's a sudden loud noise from the TV—wait, was that a bomb going off? He could've sworn this was a rom-com—and then everything goes much quieter, and he can hear Louis murmuring, "Gonna come if you keep that up, babe."

Niall can see Harry straighten up. "What do you want?" Harry replies, not keeping his voice quite as low, and Niall is surprised that he asks, because most of the time Harry'll just do what he wants without checking if it's all right with everyone first—this entire situation being a prime example of that.

"Want your clothes off," Louis says, fiddling with the neckline of Harry's t-shirt. He lowers his voice a little more, but not enough for the others to miss him adding, "and then I want to fuck you."

Niall nearly chokes on his own breath, startled, and sees Harry shoot him a smile over Louis's shoulder as he pulls his top off over his head.


Harry is getting clumsily to his feet, shuffling out of his jeans in the small amount of space he has between the sofa and coffee table. He's going commando today, and Zayn feels like there is no part of him that should be surprised by that, but still, it's kind a shock to be suddenly faced with the sight of Harry's hard dick. He's not actually watching the movie anymore, has given up on the pretence of that. He's pretty sure it sucks (what kind of action movie has a weirdly light-hearted love story going on in the background?) and there are far more interesting things happening in real life anyway.

He's seen Harry naked more times than he could ever hope to count, of course, but it's never been a sexual thing before; nudity is just a natural comfortable state for him and they've all grown used to it in the time they've known each other. But now, it's explicitly sexual, and kind of disconcerting. Plus, he's pretty sure he just heard Louis said he was going to fuck him, which—well, he knew they did that, but there's a pretty big difference between knowing and actively watching it happen.

Harry catches him staring, and just grins. "'s not like you haven't all seen the goods before."

Zayn makes a face at him as Harry clambers back into Louis's lap, kissing him again, passionate and shameless. His bare knee now nudges right up against Liam, and Zayn sees Liam's hands clench into tight fists, his knuckles going white.


"Er, we're gonna need something here," Louis says suddenly, like he's just thought of it. "Just, y'know, pointing that out, 'cause—"

Liam suddenly remembers the little pot of Vaseline in his pocket, the one that the make-up artist at their photoshoot slipped to him today because she was so stressed out about how awful his lips looked in the cold weather. And immediately he panics, because he realises he's going to have to mention it, because if he doesn't this might all stop, and he doesn't know why but he really, really doesn't want that.

"I've—hang on," says Zayn, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a condom, sliding it across the coffee table.

"Oh god," Harry groans. "Do you carry that everywhere? Talk about wishful fuckin' thinking."

He reaches out for it, and Zayn snatches it away. "Wanna go to your room and get your own?" he snarks.

"No..." Harry pouts, and Zayn hands him the foil packet.

"Listen, I hate to say it, lads, but that's not exactly gonna cut it," Louis interrupts. "Not sure how familiar you guys are with this concept but people's arses aren't actually magically self-lubricating." He caresses Harry's face gently. "He may be pretty, but he's not a girl, is what I'm saying."

Liam can feel his face getting hot, uncomfortably so, and he's got his hand by his side, feeling the shape of the little round tin in his pocket. He knows he's gonna have to mention it now. "Uh," he says, and it comes out as more of a sort of croak as he reaches into his pocket and holds out the Vaseline without quite looking either of them in the eye.

"Liam!" exclaims Louis, grinning. "You naughty boy!"

"My lips are really chapped lately," Liam explains helplessly.

"Something else getting a bit chapped? You always carry that around in case you need a quick wank?" Harry teases, reaching out and poking Liam in the ribs, and Liam squirms away and can't cope with how much he's blushing, his cheeks so hot they feel like they're on fire and the more he thinks about it the worse it gets. He's still holding the tin out, his hand trembling. Just the knowledge of what he's offering here is too much and he wishes he could act like it's nothing.

Harry takes pity on him then, thankfully. "Thanks, Li," he says then, softly, almost like he's flirting, his voice taking on that low and weirdly sexy tone Liam's heard him use on countless girls (and, of course, Louis). Liam doesn't know if it's actually supposed to be directed at him or if Harry's just turned on, and he leans towards the latter, seeing how Harry's eyes look heavy, his expression dazed—but then Harry lets his fingers linger on Liam's as he takes the tin. "Much appreciated," he slurs, grinning.

Liam straightens up, shrugging, looking back at the TV and trying to seem like he's indifferent. "No problem."

He tries to catch his breath, get things back under control, but then Louis's leaning in, nuzzling against his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his bare skin just under the hem of the arm of his t-shirt. "Lifesaver," he murmurs, or at least that's what Liam thinks he's saying. Mostly all he can hear right now is the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.


"Oi," says Harry, waving the condom and Vaseline in Louis's face. "I feel like I'm being ignored, here."

"Never," says Louis, straightening back up and plucking both items out of Harry's fingers. "You've got my full attention, babe, always."

Niall groans from behind them, which is pretty much how he reacts whenever Louis says something along those lines (either that or he laughs) and it's nice, because it makes this feel more like any of their more usual interactions. Only, it's really not like that at all, because he and Louis are naked right now and hard as fucking rocks, seconds from sex, and Harry keeps telling himself that because he knows he's not reacting to this properly at all; knows it should feel much more weird and embarrassing than it actually does—it's like his brain won't process it, can't process it.

"You gonna get me ready?" he asks.

"Don't think I can in this position," Louis points out, because they're still kind of on top of each other.

Harry looks around curiously to see whether the others are watching. Liam and Zayn both have their eyes firmly fixed on the TV again, and Niall—Niall's eyes meet his, and he gives Harry a ridiculous goofy smile like he's trying to brush over the fact that he was caught staring, and Harry bursts out laughing. "Creep!"

"If you want privacy, there are four other bedrooms," Liam points out, which is fair, but his voice sounds kind of stern and Harry frowns at him, crossing his arms.


Louis watches with barely-contained laughter as Harry suddenly sprawls himself out on his back over Liam and Zayn's laps, wriggling about and saying, conversationally, "Not really enough space on this sofa, is there?" He flings one hand up to hold onto Zayn's shoulder, his other one clutching Liam's knee.

Liam's reaction to this development is hilarious; he immediately draws his arms up awkwardly and then tries to figure out what to do with them, putting one elbow behind him on the back of the sofa in a ridiculous faux-casual manner. His other hand hovers over Harry for a second and then he decides to rest it on his chest, and Louis sees Harry sigh happily at this. Louis shifts too, sort of turning half around so he's facing Harry now, and Harry lets his legs fall open shamelessly, throwing one over the back of the sofa and nearly kicking Niall in the face.

"Ow," moans Niall in a small voice.

"I didn't even touch you."

"Stop bickering," says Liam, sounding exasperated.

Louis smirks. "Someone's getting impatient." He opens the little tin of Vaseline and watches Liam make a face at him.

"Yeah, me," Harry grumbles, squirming. "C'mon, Lou."

Louis winks at him, slicking up his fingers. "Your wish is my command, babe." He leans in, gently stroking the skin just beneath Harry's balls, watching him writhe a little bit more. Liam is blatantly staring, now, the others doing the same, movie finally forgotten. Louis can't help but feel a little nervous with all their eyes on him. Like, he knows that he's pretty all right at this, but he's never done it with an audience before. He gently pushes the tip of his middle finger inside Harry, easing it in slow, and Harry's mouth falls open and his eyes fall closed. He makes a noise that sounds like mmpf and Zayn chuckles at him, stroking his hair fondly.


Oh, thinks Niall. Oh. Because he's pretty sure that the longer this goes on, the less weird it feels, and that can't be right—surely as things progress they ought to be freaking out, but it seems like they're just getting more comfortable with it, Harry sprawled out right across Liam and Zayn's laps now like he doesn't even care. And Louis's fingers are inside him, two of them now, and Niall's got the most obscene view, watching the way Louis works them in and out, gently turning them, causing Harry to make these little noises that are kind of equal parts cute and sexy.

There's just something really good about all of it, about watching the two of them making each other happy like this; Louis knowing exactly what to do to make Harry moan. It's—it's sort of like watching porn with a completely absurd amount of backstory and build-up, so that by the time the sex starts you're all invested in the characters and their relationship and it's as emotional as it is hot. Plus, it's in 3D, so that's a bonus.

He tries to tell himself he's not going to get hard, because that feels like it would be inappropriate, but then he realises that absolutely everything about this is inappropriate, and then rapidly loses track of his own reasoning. He's not even into gay sex or anything, but he supposes when you've got two people doing it right there in front of you, your body doesn't really care about gender or whether they're your best friends or whether your other two best friends are in the room as well.

Niall's body certainly doesn't care, anyway.


"Doesn't it feel weird?" Zayn breathes, and he realises he's kind of transfixed, head craned forward to try and get a better look at the way Louis's fingers are sliding in and out of Harry, three of them now he thinks, and faster.

Harry laughs softly, almost sounding a little drunk. "No," he slurs, "it's nice. Amazing, actually." He hitches his hips up a little like he's trying to meet the thrusts of Louis's fingers, and his hard cock jumps against his stomach, smearing pre-come on his skin. Liam's hand is still spread out across his chest, and Zayn sneaks a glance at him but realises that Liam's kind of captivated too, just staring wide-eyed.

"Your heart's beating so fast," Liam says softly, like he's in awe. "I can feel it."

"I'm horny, Liam," Harry deadpans, "'s kinda what happens."

"Yeah, we can see that," replies Zayn, eyeing Harry's erection which looks almost painful. His own cock stirs a little in his trousers—out of sympathy, but even so, he tries to stop that from going any further seeing as Harry's currently got his head in his lap. "You're not gonna help him out there, Lou?"

"I suppose you're an expert on shagging blokes now," Louis snarks back at him, but then after a second he does reach out to touch Harry's cock, and Harry's body jerks.

"Nonono," he blurts, "I'll come, I don't wanna come yet."

Louis gives Zayn a pointed look, and then strokes Harry's hip gently. "You want me to fuck you now?" he murmurs, and Harry nods.


Liam almost wants to laugh, in a despairing kind of way, at how rapidly this has spiralled out of control. They're all blatantly watching now—Niall is leaning so far forward from the bed that it can't possibly be comfortable, resting his elbows on the back of the sofa.

Louis glances round and sees how close Niall suddenly is, and the way all of them are watching him intently. "All right, no pressure or anything, jesus," he mutters, fingers slipping on the condom packet, and Liam is glad to see the first sign that Louis isn't just completely blasé about this whole situation; it makes him feel just a little bit more relaxed. As long as they're all in this together, all feeling pretty much the same way about it, he figures it might be okay.

Zayn reaches out, murmuring, "Here, mate," and takes the packet from Louis's hand. He tears it open with his teeth. "Been working on that."

"'Course you have," Louis retorts as Zayn hands the condom back, and Liam smiles a little because he can hear the way Louis's voice wavers and the way he's trying not to let it. Louis looks down at Harry, who is still sprawled there looking a little bit dazed. "As much as I'm enjoying watching you make Liam squirm, I think you're gonna have to get up, love—I've not got much space to work with here."

Harry heaves a sigh and attempts to sit up, hands suddenly all over Liam and Zayn for support, and then both he and Louis clamber off the sofa and stand there wobbly-legged and holding onto each other for a moment, kissing softly, smiling against one another's mouths as Louis eases the condom over the length of his cock.

"You look bigger hard, mate," says Niall suddenly, and again Liam wants to laugh, this time at the abrupt change of mood. He glances round at him incredulously, and Niall shrugs. "I mean, I'm just saying. I wouldn't've expected it. You're a grower."

"Thanks for that, Niall," says Louis, a little condescendingly, reaching back to give him a pat on the shoulder. "Always good to get a confidence boost at a time like this."

He reaches for Liam's Vaseline and gathers some more on his fingers, working it over his cock until it's glistening. He kisses Harry at the same time, holding him close by the back of the neck with his other hand in an almost possessive way. It looks like he's saying enough kidding around now, wanting their focus back on each other again, and it takes Liam's breath away, the way that they seem to melt into one another instantly, as if their surroundings are simply fading away. It almost hurts to watch—a moment ago Liam felt like a part of this, and now suddenly they're in their own little world again, and it's strange to be bothered by that when he ought to be so used to it. But a part of him misses the warm weight of Harry in his lap, the immediate and almost suffocating closeness of him, Louis's winks and smirks when he caught Liam looking just a little too closely. He was bewildered by his own sudden inclusion, but now it aches to be reduced to a bystander again, a voyeur.

The two of them shuffle around to the side of the sofa and it should look awkward but it doesn't, their motions together are so fluid it's as though they move as one body. Harry presses a last kiss to Louis's lips and then he's turning, folding himself over the arm of the sofa, steadying himself on his hands spread out across the cushion. He seems a little out of it for a second, his eyelids drooping and his breathing rough, but then it's like the rest of the room takes shape around him again and his mouth widens in a grin when his gaze focuses on the others. It's a lazy grin, careless and just a little bit sleazy, and it makes Liam want to touch him, caress his cheek or comb his fingers through his hair or curl a firm hand over his broad shoulder. But he doesn't—he can't do anything but watch, as Louis moves in behind Harry, one hand wrapped around himself and the other curved over Harry's hip, fingers pressing into flushed hot skin and holding him still.

It's like they're all holding their breath; the room is suddenly overwhelmingly silent and Liam realises that someone must have turned off the TV at some point and he didn't even notice. He feels like he's been hyperaware of everything since this started and it's alarming to realise he's beginning to lose his grip on it, falling in. The air feels heavy and hot and Liam's heart is in his throat as he watches, as Louis shifts, closes in, pushing and breaching. He can't see what's happening, but he can see it in them—the way Harry is breathing slow and steady now, his teeth caught on his lower lip, his fingers slowly tightening their grip on the sofa cushion, the way Louis's fingers tighten simultaneously on Harry's hip and a slow, sweet look of bliss comes over his face, his cheeks and chest flushed pink.


Harry breathes out raggedly, feeling Louis sliding slowly inside of him, stretching, a gentle sort of burn that gradually gives way into something good, so fucking good. His palms are sweaty, slipping against the cushion fabric, and his cock is caught between his stomach and the sofa's arm, full and aching. He's staring at a small Sharpie stain on the knee of Liam's jeans, focusing on it and trying to keep his breathing under control as Louis fills him, so slow, so careful. He can feel the others' eyes on him but he's not ashamed, has no reason to be—they're the closest thing in the world to him and there isn't anything embarrassing about wanting this, liking it, showing them how it makes him feel.

Finally, he feels Louis's hips against him, the rough tickle of his pubic hair, the heat of his skin against his arse and their thighs pressed together.

"Okay?" Louis breathes, and he leans down a little, hand trailing up over Harry's back, breaking him out in goosebumps. The angle changes and he feels Louis's cock shift within him and his breath catches in a sharp, pleased gasp, and to his surprise he hears it echoed back to him from the others—so on edge that the slightest sudden movement or sound startles them. He can't help but laugh then, a sort of hoarse chuckle, and then everyone is laughing, Liam shaking his head and Niall burying his momentarily in his hands.

"Yeah, okay," Harry murmurs then, composing himself again, and Louis strokes at the skin of his back and begins to ease out just a little before pushing back in, and Harry relaxes fully into it, sensing the way the tension is broken now.


"Does it feel good?" Liam blurts suddenly, obviously louder than he means to, and Louis laughs.

"Wouldn't do it if it didn't, would I?" smirks Harry.

"No, I just—" Liam runs his hands over his face, looking a little flustered. "Never mind."

"Liam, you're blushing," Louis teases, and Liam makes a scowly face at him.

The truth is, Louis's kind of just teasing because he needs to keep a handle on this situation, needs to stay on top of it. He doesn't want to show that he's just as overwhelmed and bewildered as the others are, because at least one of them has to maintain the delusion that this is normal behaviour or else they're all going to have to be asking themselves some pretty serious questions in the morning.

Harry is slick and hot and tight around him, and it's always torture having to go so slow at first but Harry needs it—they rush sometimes and he's sore the next day, uncomfortable sitting down in the tour bus or for signings, causing the others to tease.


Niall watches, a strange feeling twisting in the pit of his stomach that he can't classify, something made hazy and indistinct by a buzz of arousal. And it's not about the arousal, really, it's not about the fact that he's watching two people fuck right in front of him and he's got a semi right now, it's more than that, something deeper that he thinks he's been aware of ever since he met them. It's a sort of fascination—he's never seen two people with a relationship like Harry and Louis's and it's not like he's spent nights lying awake wondering what their sex life is like but now that he's being given the opportunity, he can't help but be curious.

And in a strange way it feels like he should be a part of this, like they all should be a part of this, because they've been right there from the beginning and seen their love for each other grow and it seems natural somehow, to be here for this eventually, to experience it right along with them. It feels like they've experienced everything else together and he's not stupid, he knows how co-dependent they all are, how they can't go long without each other's company and they've always shared things they probably shouldn't. And of course this takes it further, too far, maybe, but nothing about their lives is normal anymore, and maybe it doesn't even matter.


Zayn shifts beside Liam, hand falling over his own crotch, feeling his erection grow beneath the fabric of his trousers. He's ashamed, and it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that they're guys but the fact that they're Harry and Louis, and somehow—ridiculously—it feels wrong to sexualise them, even when they're full-on shagging right before his eyes. It feels cheap and gross, because they're not doing this for his pleasure.

He swallows, uneasy. He doesn't want anyone to notice his reaction because he's pretty sure he's the only one having it, and so—maybe as a sort of distraction, but also 'cause it is what he's thinking—he hears himself say, "I'm not being rude, mate, but you're going kind of slow. I mean, you could give it to him harder than that."

Harry smirks up at him with a look on his face that seems to say he knows exactly what Zayn is trying to do, and Liam elbows Zayn gently and says, "Slow isn't necessarily bad," in a quiet voice, "some people like it slow." Niall reaches out and ruffles Liam's hair, and Liam wrinkles his nose, blushing. "I'm just saying."

"I didn't sign up to get my technique criticised," huffs Louis, and then leans down over Harry's body, kissing his back and murmuring, "You want it harder, babe?"


Harry is nodding, and Louis is beginning to thrust a little faster, making Harry's body rock back and forth now with a little more urgency. He's leaning down over him, his body covering Harry's, moving against him, and Liam is still overwhelmed to see it all so close, to see naked skin against naked skin and to know that Louis is inside Harry—Liam doesn't even really like watching porn, even the good stuff, because it makes him feel awkward to watch people doing something so intimate and private, and those are strangers, and these are his best friends. He doesn't have a problem with it, he just doesn't know how to handle it, doesn't know how he's supposed to feel. Zayn, he can tell, is aroused by it, Niall sort of quietly, happily fascinated, but Liam can't figure out his own reaction.

Because he knows it's between Harry and Louis, but at the same time he feels this urge to be involved—if at any point the boys had gone into a different bedroom Liam would have felt not just disappointed but hurt, as though this is something he deserves to be a part of, and he knows he doesn't, but he can't make the knowledge reconcile with his gut feeling. Because he loves them, wants to see them happy, wants to see them making each other happy, and it's special and crazy, reckless and silly and beautiful, and everything that their relationship is, and he can't fight the stupid urge to touch the both of them, just hold them close and kiss their foreheads and their cheeks and tell them how much he loves them.


Louis slides in deep and hard suddenly, a violent thrust, and Harry is shoved forward, stomach flush against the arm of the sofa and cock trapped between, sudden rough pressure making him cry out. Louis starts fucking him quickly and Harry isn't quite ready; he scrabbles for purchase on the sofa cushions and can't get it and finds Liam's thigh instead, and clings, fingers holding on tight as he's rocked back and forth by Louis's thrusts. It feels too good, the full feeling of Louis inside him and the friction inside, and the way his hard cock is rubbing against the arm of the sofa with each movement—he wants to look up at Liam but he can't, he hangs his head and lets out a low groan, fingernails scraping on the denim of Liam's jeans. He can feel how tense Liam's leg is, the muscles all seized up and taut.

And then Louis thrusts harder, and Harry is on the tips of his toes digging into the thick carpet, sprawled over the sofa now and clutching and grasping at Liam's thigh, and then suddenly Liam is taking his hand—covering it and squeezing, holding onto him and keeping him steady, and Harry is suddenly hit by the weight of it; the meaning; the way that that's what Liam does, and he twists his wrist and takes Liam's hand properly, interlinking their fingers and looking into his eyes and appreciating the solid strength of his hand, the hard bones of his knuckles and the warmth of his skin.

He lets himself relax, lets Louis pound into him, riding the wave of it, the almost too intense rub of fabric against his swollen cock and the relentless push and pull of Louis deep inside of him—his head drops onto Liam's lap and he's moaning, low, mouthing at rough denim and feeling Liam's tight squeeze around his hand. He feels his orgasm approaching quick, too quick; he has no control over it and he squeezes Liam's hand hard as it takes over, flooding through him, sending stars bursting behind his eyelids and tingles through his veins, and Louis is holding him tight, fucking him through it, not letting up.

For a long moment he's in a daze, feeling Louis's rhythm slow but not being aware of anything else, until gradually he feels Zayn's fingers stroking through his sweaty hair, soothing, and he can smell Liam, his face still buried in his lap, and Niall is giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. He struggles to pull himself up and Louis kisses him at the nape of his neck, soft and sweet, and he can feel the smile against his skin.


"I'm gonna come, babe," Louis forces out, and Harry is a limp mess beneath him but he cranes his neck, stares into Louis's eyes, a sleepy-drunk smile on his lips, and he looks so happy and it sends Louis over the edge. Just before his eyes fall shut he sees that they're all grinning up at him ridiculously, like they're proud, and he realises then as his orgasm courses through him that he's laughing while he comes, and that's never happened to him before in his life.

He lies against Harry for a few quiet moments, coming down, his sweaty cheek pressed to Harry's sweaty shoulder blade, and everything is quiet and still and hazy until Harry squirms beneath him, hot and uncomfortable. Louis heaves himself up, pulling off his condom and tying it in a clumsy knot. He's too tired to think what else to do with it, so he just places it on the arm of the sofa, and Liam groans.

"Louis, that's not hygienic. Poor sofa."

"Harry already came on it," Louis points out, gesturing to the wet patch, "I think that's its biggest issue right now."

Harry is wobbling a little next to him, and for a second he looks like he might actually keel over. Louis grabs him and he giggles, and then everyone is laughing, and the two of them are slumping back onto the sofa beside Liam and Zayn—or, to be more accurate, mostly on top of them. There isn't even any protesting at this, though Louis's pretty sure they're disgusting right now, and he actually sees Liam pull Harry closer and press a kiss to his temple. Niall leans in closer, resting his chin on Louis's bare shoulder and smiling, and then there's a quiet buzz and he pulls back.

"Oh, Jesus," Niall says a second later, sounding stricken.

"What?" the others chorus.

"It's my Mum, she's asking what I'm up to." He lets out a burst of sort of strangled-sounding laughter and everybody cracks up.

"That's...not a text you're gonna want to answer honestly, mate," says Liam through his fits of giggles, reaching back to pat him on the shoulder, and it takes them all a little while to calm down.

And then Louis says, "C'mon, Niall, come join the cuddle," because it feels wrong without him right here. He tugs on Niall's arm with more force than he knew he had in him right now, and everybody joins in the effort to pull Niall right over the back of the sofa and on top of them all, into their sweaty, half-naked pile.

Harry sighs happily, leaning back against Zayn and smushing their cheeks together, and Louis cuffs a rather sombre-looking Liam gently on the chin.

"Your sex faces are hilarious, by the way, mate," says Zayn, looking across the others at Louis, and doing an incredibly ugly impression.

"I know for a fact that's not true," Louis retorts.


"'Cause of this one time when Harry and I did it in front of a mirror," he replies matter-of-factly. Liam makes a face, and Louis laughs. "What, in front of you is morally acceptable, but a mirror is weird?"

"I'm not sure in front of us is morally acceptable!" Liam says.

"Too bad, Li," Louis sighs, reaching over to ruffle his hair, "'cause we're never gonna have sex without you guys now."

Instead of looking scandalised, Liam gets this almost sheepish little smile on his face like he's actually kind of pleased, and then they're all cuddling closer, and Harry's yawning and already falling asleep on Zayn. And the thing is, Louis said it as a joke, but—well, he thinks it might actually turn out to be true. Because there's not much in his life that's felt more right than this.