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Get those stakes up higher

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Niall’s slick and easy for the two fingers Louis jams inside him, and he feels drunker than he is, gasping into the side of Louis’s neck as Louis fucks him on them. “Slut,” says Louis, biting the lobe of his ear.

“Married,” replies Niall. He presses his mouth to Louis’s in a messy kiss. They’re both sticky with sweat on the crisp white hotel sheets, and another time Niall would have insisted on showering, but they’re being so reckless already. He spreads his legs wider around Louis’s hips, careful of his foot, and Louis slides a third finger into him, not waiting for Niall to stretch out before fucking hard into his arse. They’d made out in the car from the chapel, neon flaring through the tinted windows, ten minutes of teasing with Niall’s fingers clutched around Louis’s shoulders. The relief of getting out of their clothes and into bed had been overwhelming.

“Should have got you a white dress,” Louis tells him, crooking his fingers so Niall cries out. “But you don’t deserve it.”

Niall rocks his hips down, shivering as Louis’s fingers press deeper into him. He thinks he might come just from this, and then make Louis work him up all over again, but Louis knows him too well. He pulls away just as Niall shivers to the edge of orgasm, and his face is disappointed in that exaggerated way that means he’s secretly pleased.

“Lou,” says Niall quietly, and Louis’s fingers press back into him with a sloppy wet sound. “Lou, please.”

“You want to come like this, love?” Louis murmurs, nuzzling at Niall’s cheek. “Before I even get my dick in you? On our wedding night?” His fingers are making shallow circles inside Niall’s arse, driving Niall crazy again.

He shuts his eyes and bites his lip at the words “our wedding night”, so full up with emotion suddenly, like it’s becoming real all over again. In his head, it still feels like a joke. It doesn’t seem like something that would ever happen, something Louis would ever really choose. And on the other hand, it feels as though it’s been a long fucking time coming, like every little thing they’ve said and done for each other has been inexorably leading to this. Niall tilts his face for a kiss, and their mouths meet and catch.

Louis’s fingers stop moving inside him and they’re just kissing, kissing, kissing, lost in it for long moments. Louis bites at his mouth, and Niall wonders if his lips will still feel swollen in the morning, if the sneaky fan pictures tomorrow will bear the subtle suggestion of how thoroughly Louis kisses. Niall’s been with a handful of people who liked kissing, but they never elevated it to an art form the way Louis does, never made it feel like a destination. Niall’s hard, and his arse is parted around three of Louis’s slick fingertips, but he would let Louis just kiss him the rest of the night if that was what Louis wanted.

But Louis’s kisses are turning cursory and he’s nudging a fourth finger against the rim of Niall’s hole. Niall’s never taken more than three, but he’s up for it, angling his hips for Louis’s hand.

“Gonna fuck you bare tonight, yeah?” Louis says. “Fill you right up?”

That was something Louis had whispered to him on the plane, ducking in close to say, “I want to come in you tonight,” before he went back to his book, hands trembling a little at his own boldness as Niall blushed to the tips of his ears. In the early days Niall thought Louis could say whatever came into his head and not think twice about it, but now he knows Louis is as bad as anyone at asking for things he wants, that the more he wants something, the harder it is for him to talk about it. So this must be a thing he wants a lot, and that makes Niall want it too. He had just nodded on the plane, but now he says it aloud too.

“Want to feel you come in me,” he says into the corner of Louis’s mouth, and he feels Louis’s smile. The unspoken part is that neither of them have had sex with anyone else in four months, that the series of decisions that led them to tonight involved blood tests and serious conversations as well as loads of dressing room quickies after shows.

Louis tucks his fourth fingertip into Niall’s arse, and Niall gasps at the sudden pressure, the way it shifts of weight of Louis inside him. He’s so slick inside, and he circles his hips a little, trying to ease the ache. “Alright, love?” Louis asks, as Niall bears down on his fingers, trembling.

Niall breathes out a “yeah”, and for one desperate moment, he wonders if Louis’s going to put his whole hand inside him, his fingers tucked together in a tight bunch. Niall would take that too, he would take anything just now. But Louis pulls out in a slither of lube.

The yawning ache it leaves behind is a shock, and Niall heaves in a breath, tightening his arms around Louis’s waist. Louis rubs the tip of his nose against Niall’s, and the tenderness on his face is shocking, every time, the way Louis looks at him when they’re alone, his eyes squinted up happily. He’d looked like that at the chapel tonight, in the midst of the silk flowers and glitter and tulle. Niall had picked a spangled bowtie for Louis from the case of fancy dress accessories they’d been offered, and Louis had retaliated with a tiara and veil. They’d laughed over the karaoke-style binder offering wedding song options, debating whether choosing one of their own was overkill, giddy at their own recklessness. And then the moment came to say “I do” in that shabby, bright little room that smelled like stale beer and baby powder. And Louis’s eyes had gone all soft and he’d squeezed his fingers around Niall’s, and everything had slowed right down. In the morning, if anyone asks, they may say they were too drunk and did something crazy, but for tonight they keep it just between the two of them, and they can know exactly how much it mattered.

Niall holds his breath as Louis settles the tip of his cock against Niall’s hole, and he wants to move, spread his legs wider around Louis’s hips, but his right foot is heavy and healing, and every small movement twinges distantly. So he lets Louis take his time, smearing the head of his cock through the mess of lube between Niall’s cheeks. “Married,” Louis says, like it’s a word in a language he’s still learning. Niall watches whatever thoughts are churning behind his eyes, and he’s afraid for a moment that Louis’s having second thoughts. Then Louis bends down to kiss him, his “I love you” soft in the gap between their mouths.

“You too,” says Niall. And then anything else he might say is lost to a gasp as Louis pushes into him. He loves this part, every time, the way Louis opens him up, the slow roll of his hips that brings him all the way inside. It’s a reminder of the way Louis knows him, the way Louis fits him, and Niall arches back against the pillow as Louis settles, his hips pressed tight against Niall’s arse. It’s hard not to brace his feet against the bed, but every time he tries, he’s roughly reminded what a bad idea it is, until finally Louis hitches Niall’s leg up around his waist.

“Good?” he asks, and Niall nods gratefully, shuts his eyes to lose himself again. Pleasure races up his spine, and every breath he takes just heightens it more. He was turned on at the chapel, and turned on in the car, and turned on on the bloody plane to Vegas, and now it’s all rising up in him, hours of need gathering. He’s going to come, and so, so soon, but he tries to hold off, just a bit, make it last a little longer. Their first time as a married couple. His mouth finds Louis’s, and Louis kisses him distractedly, working his cock in and out of Niall’s arse in a steady rhythm. It’s different to using a condom, the slide of Louis’s cock into him, but Niall couldn’t say just how yet.

Louis's hands grip at Niall's hips, and he shivers into a faster, harder rhythm, working himself deep in Niall's arse. His lips press at the side of Niall's neck, and he swears softly into Niall's skin. "Fuck, you feel so good. Un-bloody-believable. And all mine. All mine for as long as we both shall live." The words are hushed and panting, Louis's heavy breath punctuating them.

Niall's felt plenty of moments of sheer overwhelming happiness in his life to date: getting through at boot camp, playing their first proper show, stepping on stage at Croke Park, the first night Louis kissed him sober. But the thrumming, nearly fearful joy he'd felt listening to the woman at the chapel say those words was unlike any of them. “Forever” as a concept is fragile and unreal, but Niall can easily imagine a lifetime with Louis, their lives tangled up together into one united thing. He grips at Louis’s shoulders, finding Louis’s mouth for another kiss. Tension is building in him with every stroke of Louis’s cock, and he bears down, trying to push himself towards orgasm. Louis’s teeth sink into his lower lip.

Niall hisses and bites back, more gently though, and Louis groans into his mouth. “Are you close?” Louis asks, one hand pressed urgently to the back of Niall’s thigh, opening him up even wider. Niall nods, frantic under the changing pressure, the new angle of Louis’s cock teasing more deeply inside him. It makes Louis’s lips curl into a smug little smile. “Are you gonna come on my dick then, love? Just like this? Make me proud?”

“Yeah,” Niall breathes out, thighs trembling as he arches into Louis’s next thrust. No one ever made him come untouched before Louis, but Louis made it into a game he needed to win. And he has, again and again. Niall shuts his eyes and takes one deep breath, Louis murmuring encouragement as Niall’s arsehole tightens on his cock and he starts to come.

“That’s it, babe,” Louis murmurs. “Love feeling you.” He nuzzles into the side of Niall’s neck, and Niall holds tight to him.

It’s so good still, even though Niall feels raw now that he’s come. Louis is nailing into him, deep and hard and slow right up until his hips start to stutter. “You can,” Niall tells him, before Louis asks, because this is what they were always heading towards. He squeezes his legs around Louis’s hips, and Louis sinks into him one last time, swearing as he comes, spilling deep in Niall’s arse. It’s a new burst of heat, and then Niall feels even wetter inside, sloppy for Louis’s next wallowing thrust. When Louis collapses onto him, he’s careful of Niall’s knee, his aching foot, every fragile, imperfect part of Niall’s body.

Louis doesn’t pull out right away, kissing along Niall’s jaw, up to the corner of his mouth. Niall feels come seeping down between his legs as Louis softens and slips out of him, and he shivers a little, empty and sore. “Alright?” Louis asks, reaching down to press two fingertips against Niall’s hole. He rubs gently, eyes intent on Niall’s face, and if Niall said “stop” he probably would, but Niall just tilts his face into the pillow, murmuring assent. “God, I want to come in you every night.”

“Then you’ll have to sleep in the wet spot,” Niall tells him with a slow smile.

“Or we’ll have to cuddle on the other side of the bed. Plenty of room. Plenty of time to work it out.”

Niall is exhausted—they’ve both been awake for nearly 24 hours, and the bed is amazingly soft beneath him, wet spot or no—but his heart still flutters at that. Plenty of time for anything they want. “I love you, Lou,” he says, because he hasn’t said it in a few hours at least.

“Love you too,” says Louis, sounding nothing less than sincere.

Outside, dawn is licking across the desert and the glittering spires of Las Vegas, but they have nothing to do today except each other.