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Nick thinks it's a hilarious joke, referring to Harry on air as a she - "my friend had me round for a lovely roast dinner last night. She's an excellent cook, just bought a new house with a fancy new kitchen, so she and I gave it a proper christening" - completely innocuous, but Nick thinks it's a terribly funny. He thinks he's really clever having snuck a story about Harry past the nosey public, and thrown in a veiled reference to how after dinner he'd bent Harry over his brand new countertop and fucked him senseless, all in one.

He knows Harry's listening, up early for work, and there's no mistaking who he's talking about.

Of course, when Harry meets him back at his flat for lunch he wants to talk about it and Nick's more than happy to, pleased for an opportunity to revel in his own cheekiness.

Nick's in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar when Harry bangs into his flat, using his own key. Nick sips his coffee and listens to him make his way down the hall. Harry's noisy, almost stomping, but it's nothing out of the ordinary. It's one of the things Nick loves about Harry, how seemingly out of tune with his own body he is - stepping too heavily, pigeon toed, constantly knocking his elbows into things. It just makes Harry all the more astounding to Nick, that someone as uncoordinated and ungraceful as he is can move like a fucking primadonna ballerina in bed. Nick doesn't question it. It's a thing he decided quite early on in his life, when life lets you have things you'd like to keep, you shouldn't question them.

Harry drops his keys on the counter, shoves his sunglasses up on his head like he'd forgotten he was still wearing them - sunglasses inside, such a fucking popstar - and bends to kiss Nick smartly on the mouth. Nick smiles at Harry as he pulls away and slides onto the stool beside Nick, and then Nick's smile turns into a frown when Harry steals his coffee right out of his hands.

Harry sips and grimaces. "Ugh, can't stand it without any sugar," he says.

"S'how I like it," Nick shrugs a shoulder and snatches his mug back. "Besides, it's not for you."

"Everything's for me," Harry grins and damn it, he's right. Nick can't refuse Harry a thing and the little bastard's cottoned on to it somewhere along the line. Nick rolls his eyes, a show of reluctance just to ease his frayed dignity. Harry's kind, he doesn't press it. He doesn't need to, the smug smile on his face says he knows exactly how he has Nick wrapped around his little finger. But then, Nick thinks, it is a very nice finger. He's quite comfortable being wrapped around it.

It's not that he's whipped, more like Harry's spoilt - and why shouldn't Harry have everything he wants? Nick has everything he wants, possibly. Maybe. Christ, but that's a thought and a half.

"You mentioned me on the radio this morning," Harry says, and gets up to rummage in Nick's fridge.

"Did I?" Nick says airily, sipping his coffee and watching as Harry takes out everything he needs to start fixing them some sandwiches for lunch. It's nice, Nick thinks, how Harry just lets himself into his flat, helps himself to his fridge. Nicer still that Harry makes him a sandwich without even asking if he wants one, how his fridge is only stocked because Harry drags him grocery shopping. It's nice having someone around to buy groceries with and make sandwiches for him.

"Mm," Harry hums. "I was listening. You think you're very clever, don't you?"

"Well, yes," Nick admits, and then frowns when Harry doesn't say anything else, the two of them slipping into an easy silence, the only sound in the room from the knife against the cutting board as Harry cuts their sandwiches into neat triangles. Nick can't help but be disappointed. Not by the triangles, but by Harry's nonreaction. He expected, at least, for Harry to pull him into a game of fisticuffs that ends in some heated making out against the fridge, or something.

Harry brings the sandwiches over, hands one to Nick and then they eat in silence, too. Nick eyes Harry warily. Harry's a quiet person generally, but he usually has a little more to say when they've been apart all morning. He's not even looking at his phone, just eating his sandwich in seeming quiet contemplation. Nick frowns and tries to brush it off as normal, but he's preparing to apologise. He's never had to, hasn't ever offended Harry before, but maybe this is what it looks like when Harry's hurt. Nick doesn't have much of a filter, he's not a good judge of what's going to hurt people, but he really thought what he'd said about Harry was harmless.

"Nick," Harry says, and it sounds significant and leading. Nick frowns at his phone where he's typed out a text to Aimee asking for guidance (he only ever goes to Aimee for this kind of advice, her offensive bullshit filter is just as flimsy as his). "This morning, when you talked about me?" Harry stands and collects their plates up. Nick's head tells him it's just so Harry has an excuse to put space between them.

"Mm, yes, what about it?" Nick says and watches Harry rinse the plates, the knife, and the cutting board.

"Actually, nevermind." Harry presses his lips together, winding the tea towel he used to dry his hands around his fingers.

"Well, now I have to know what's bothering that pretty little head of yours," Nick says and Harry smiles and throws the towel at his face, and then follows it, coming close to Nick again, even sliding in between Nick's thighs. Not angry, then, Nick thinks and puts his hands on Harry's hips.

"You're going to think it's stupid," Harry says, not self consciously, just a statement of fact.

Nick shrugs. "Probably. I think lots of things about you are stupid," he says, and grins as Harry opens his mouth to make a wounded protest, no doubt. "But," Nick cuts him off, "those are the things I like about you best, young Harold."

Harry shuts his mouth and smiles, flushing a pleased shade of pink. He nuzzles in against Nick's throat and presses a little biting kiss up under his jaw, which tickles more than anything. Nick laughs and slips his hands under Harry's shirt to stroke the warm skin of his back. "Well," Harry says, lips pressed against Nick's skin. "Well, I like, liked it? I liked it."

"Liked what? Me talking about you on the radio? I know that, darling, you're a rotten attention whore."

"Yes, but, no. Um," Harry hums a little frustrated, impatient noise and presses his face firmer into the curve of Nick's neck, curls his fingers in the sleeve of Nick's shirt. "When. Calling me a girl," he says, voice muffled but clear enough that Nick hears it.

It's unexpected, but lots of things with Harry are unexpected. Hell, the first time Harry pressed himself against Nick all drunk and needy and asked to be fucked had been pretty unexpected. Nick's learnt to roll with the punches by now. "You liked it, like, liked it, liked it?" Nick says, careful to keep his tone free of judgement or mocking.

"Yeah, it's kind of--" Harry trails off, making a pinched expression like he's having trouble explaining himself. It's not an unusual occurrence. Harry's just as slow and careful with his words as Nick is quick and unthinking.

"So, what, you'd like me to call you a girl and stuff when we're fucking?" Nick asks, gently, he thinks.

"Um. No. But," Harry bites his lip. "There's-- hm. Can I just show you? It'll be easier." He's already pulled away though, tugging Nick to his feet before he even agrees. He grabs for Nick's hand and their fingers slot together almost automatically, like their fingers just remember how to fit together. Nick's never been one for handholding, but it comes naturally to him with Harry. A lot of things come naturally with Harry that Nick has ended relationships (read: sexual dalliances) over in the past. It's just easy to give in to Harry, it even feels good.

"Sure," Nick says and lets Harry lead him down the hallway to his bedroom.

Harry pushes Nick down to sit on the edge of his bed and disappears into the ensuite without a word. He comes back with his fist curled around something, thumb twitching like he's nervous. Nick bites his lip and reaches for Harry, pulls him close with his big hands firm and reassuring on Harry's hips. "What've you got, then?" he asks, genuinely interested in what's got Harry so worked up.

Harry holds out his fist, turned up so when he uncurls his fingers his palm is facing Nick so Nick can see the little black tube he has in his hand. Is that-- "lipstick?" Nick asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

Harry nods and when Nick plucks the tube from his palm, Harry reaches down and quite blatantly adjusts his dick. Nick's eyes follow the movement, flicking back up to Harry's face when he sees the unmistakable swell of Harry's cock. "Are you--?" Nick asks before he can help himself. He's a little shocked. Harry's as easy to get going as the average eighteen year old, maybe even easier, but it seems-- not odd, never odd, but significant that Harry's gotten hard from, what, from a tube of lipstick?

"Yeah," Harry admits, his voice a little breathier than normal, and he leaves his hand on his crotch, palming himself. He looks quite flushed. Harry must be really into this; they haven't even done anything, Nick hasn't even agreed to anything, and Harry's so turned on.

"Hm," Nick says contemplatively and takes the little black tube in his long fingers, slides the cap off and twists the end of it to push the lipstick up out the top. It's a bright, garish kind of pink. Nick looks up at Harry's face and sure enough, Harry's eyes are locked on Nick's fingers and the lipstick, watching intently with his lips parted just slightly.

"It was, it's been in your bathroom for awhile," Harry says.

"You noticed it before?" Nick asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. I have," Harry says. Nick hadn't noticed the lipstick in his bathroom, not that he thinks Harry's lying. He recognises it as one of Aimee's. She must have left it in there last time she stayed. Lipstick is just not something that registers in Nick's brain. It's interesting that it's something worth noticing and keeping track of to Harry's.

"Aimee's, I think," Nick says and twists the lipstick in and out of the tube absently. "So..." he prompts and looks up at Harry.

Harry seems to laugh at himself a little then, ducking his head with a smile, and sits down heavily on the bed next to Nick. He wiggles around until he's facing Nick with his legs folded up underneath him, so Nick turns to the side to face Harry full on too.

Harry curls his fingers on Nick's knee, letting his fingernails scratch against the denim lightly. "I want you to-- can you put it on me?" Harry asks. His voice is quiet, but steady. Another thing Nick really appreciates about Harry; he's pretty shameless. Sure, he gets adorably embarrassed sometimes but it never goes deeper than just making him blush prettily. Never causes him any hesitation in asking for what he wants. It was like that the first time, when Harry asked Nick to fuck him, and it's the same now, Harry just asks Nick to put makeup on him. Nick respects that, someone who goes for what they want.

"Please," Harry adds. And he's well mannered. Nick's mum loves Harry.

Nick looks at the lipstick in his hand, and then at Harry. Harry's leaning forward, towards him just slightly. He looks eager, and hopeful, and it's really fucking hot that Nick has the power to please him, to give him what he wants.

Nick drops the lid and takes Harry's chin in his left hand, pulls his face closer and Harry gasps. Nick's grip is firm, maybe a little firmer than necessary, but that's how Harry likes to be touched.

He's got his eyes on Harry's mouth now. It's a particularly nice mouth, but Nick's always thought so. He's spent a lot of time extolling the virtues of Harry's lovely mouth, both mentally and verbally.

Harry whines and pulls back, a sudden flurry of movement as he fumbles with his belt, tugging the leather free of the buckle and unbuttoning his jeans. He eases the zip down more carefully, his cock hard and pressing against it, and then reaches in to pull it out. He huffs out a breath and palms the shiny head of his dick. "Sorry, it was uncomfortable."

Nick laughs breathily, a little caught on the sight of Harry's cock, his own giving a little twitch in his trousers. Harry's very hard, red and swollen and god, how is Nick supposed to focus on lipstick when Harry's dick is right there. He tears his eyes away from it, back up to Harry's face and he's smirking, the little shit, like he knows exactly how good Nick thinks his dick looks, how bad he wants to touch it and suck it and make Harry come.

"Come here you," Nick says and grabs Harry's chin in his hand again, fingers digging into his soft cheeks as he pulls him in again. Then Harry's face is close and almost all Nick can think about is kissing him, but he knows if that happens they'll never get back on track, he'll kiss him and press him down into the mattress and fuck the smirk right off his face. Which, nice, yes, but Nick wants to give Harry what he wants before the moment passes.

It's not that Nick is particularly interested in the idea of Harry wearing lipstick, but anything that gets Harry as hard as he is now is worth investigating as far as Nick's concerned. Besides, Nick wants Harry to have nice things, and god, Harry does have nice things - he can afford to buy a bloody vintage Jag on a whim - but this isn't something Harry can't buy. Only Nick can give this to him. Harry could probably buy a whole lipstick factory, but it wouldn't mean anything, Nick thinks (hopes), if he wasn't the one there to apply the stuff, and that makes it sexy. It's not a crime to get off on giving your boyfriend (oh god, boyfriend) what he wants.

Nick has to ease up his grip on Harry's face so his mouth isn't contorted into fish lips. Nick knows a little about applying lipstick, he's watched girlfriends do it a million times before, knows you need a slack, parted mouth for an even application. Nick shifts a bit, getting in closer and flicks his eyes up from Harry's lips to meet his own. Harry's pupils are blown wide, eyes heavy lidded watching Nick with this horrible, exhilarating trust in them.

Nick holds up the tube, the bright pink point of lipstick sticking out the top, and Harry's eyes follow it, so Nick goes for it. He sets his thumb in the dip above Harry's chin to open his mouth a little wider, and sets the flat of the lipstick to the middle of Harry's plump bottom lip. Nick feels a shiver run through Harry, but concentrates, drags the lipstick to the right, leaving a stripe of bright pink pigment from the centre of Harry's bottom lip right to the corner of his mouth. Nick's doing it slowly, feels as if that's the right way to go about it, so Harry can really relish it.

And he is, breath coming out in little quick puffs from his parted lips, but Nick can't spend much time thinking about how turned on Harry is, or he'll get distracted, and he wants to make this good. He sets the lipstick in the opposite corner of Harry's mouth and drags it back to the middle of Harry's bottom lip, to meet the colour already there. A quick, careful swipe over the middle just to bring the colour up a bit brighter and Nick thinks he's done quite well, the lipstick only bleeding past the edge of Harry's lips in the corners just a little.

Nick starts on Harry's top lip, pressing the point of the lipstick to the dip of his cupid's bow. He can't quite manage it in one smooth stroke like with his bottom lip, the delicious curve of Harry's upper lip a little trickier. Nick touches two fingertips under Harry's chin and tilts his face up a little. He works the lipstick in a few careful, small swipes from the dip, easing the pigment along the curve and then in longer strokes down to the corner of his mouth. He does the same with the other side and it's a little more wobbly than the job he made of Harry's bottom lip, but it's done.

He twists the lipstick back down into the tube and replaces the cap, drops it onto the bed. "Hang on," he says to Harry but Harry hasn't moved, completely still. Nick leans in again and swipes his thumb at the corner of Harry's mouth, trying to wipe away the lipstick on his skin. It just smears mostly, but Nick thinks it looks a little better. He sits back and admires his handy work.

Harry looks-- Nick doesn't want to say it looks ridiculous on him, because nothing could ever look ridiculous on Harry. But it looks a little strange, doesn't fill Nick with any kind of overwhelming desire, but just one glance down to Harry's lap where his cock is hard enough for there to be precome pooled in the slit, glistening invitingly, and Nick's interested, his mouth even waters.

It is nice, makes the nice things about Harry's mouth even more obvious - his lips look bigger, fuller, softer, the curve more pronounced. "Looks good," Nick says, and the tiny breathy moan that comes out of Harry has Nick continuing, "it looks really pretty on you."

"Nick," Harry whines and rubs his lips together experimentally. He leans forward and reaches for Nick, like he wants to curl his hand in Nick's shirt and pull him into a kiss. He hesitates.

"You don't want to ruin it," Nick says and Harry nods his head, flicks his tongue over his top lip like he's tasting. "Do you want to see what you look like, all tarted up for me?" Nick asks with a smile, and strokes his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry turns to the touch, presses his mouth lightly against Nick's wrist and it leaves a delicate little pink print of Harry's lips. Oh, Nick kind of likes that. It's like when Harry sucks bruises into his skin, leaves marks on him to show the world he belongs to someone, to Harry.

Nick curls his fingers in Harry's hair where he's petting him, holds on tight and sudden. He desperately wants to pull Harry in, lick in between those bright pink lips, press his tongue deep in his mouth and then his cock deep in his arse. Harry shakes his head. "I want, can I suck you off?" He asks.

"Yes, fuck," Nick gasps, his hips jerking involuntarily. "Even with the--" Nick says and waves a hand at Harry's face. Harry nods and touches a finger to the corner of his mouth, looks at it when it comes away bright pink.

Nick thinks Harry looks particularly graceful as he slides from the bed and sinks to his knees on the carpet, his hand delicate but firm on Nick's thigh. Nick shifts to the edge of the bed so Harry can slot in between his spread thighs and get at his fly. Nick's hard and waiting for him, and even Harry's fingers pressing against him through his clothes as he undoes Nick's jeans feels really good.

Harry gets Nick's trousers undone and reaches in to pull out his cock, his fingers wrapped sure around him. Harry licks his sticky, pink lips and shuffles in closer, leans over Nick's lap and Nick spreads his thighs wider to make room. Harry presses a chaste kiss to the side of Nick's length, and it's sweet and dirty both at once. Nick watches as he pulls away, and they both look at the bright pink print that Harry's mouth leaves behind. Harry huffs a rushed exhale over Nick's hot skin, eyelashes fluttering as he dips down to lick a wet, lewd stripe up the underside of Nick's cock, from where his fingers are curled around the base right up to the very tip of him. He rubs his pink, painted lips over the head of Nick's cock, gets his lips all shiny with Nick's precome like some kind of dirty hot lipgloss.

"Harry, that's--" Nick gasps.

"I know," Harry says quickly, voice deep and rough, opens his mouth and suckles on the head of Nick's dick, flicking his tongue in the slit. He slides his fist up the length of him, smearing the lipstick he's left there earlier and Nick shoves his hips up, wants his cock deeper in the wet heat of Harry's mouth. Harry opens for him right away, sliding his mouth down around Nick, all tight suction as he takes in as much as he can, which is a lot. Harry's so good at this. He doesn't take him all the way, not to the back of his throat, but deep enough the Nick's rocking up into it mindlessly, curling his fingers tight in Harry's hair as Harry bobs on his cock a few times, twisting his fist around the base, whatever of him isn't in his mouth.

There's more lipstick on Nick's cock than Harry's lips at this point but Nick doesn't care, maybe even likes it, that he made Harry all pretty and now Harry's ruining himself on Nick's cock. Harry pulls off with a gasp, looking up at Nick with shining eyes. "Nick, fuck my mouth, call me a--"

"God, you're a slut," Nick interrupts, knew what Harry was going to ask for. Harry groans and opens his mouth wide again, takes Nick's cock back in, all the way this time, sliding down slow and sure until Nick feels Harry's throat working around the head of his cock and he has to groan too. "Fuck, you're gagging for it, aren't you?" Nick says and shoves his hips up, just enough to to get his cock deeper and make Harry gag to prove his point. Harry's eyes begin to water. "You look a mess, lipstick smeared everywhere, god, like a whore," Nick groans and Harry does too, taking his hands off Nick's cock, curling them around under Nick's thighs.

Nick fists Harry's hair and tilts his head so the angle's right, braces his other arm against the mattress so he can fuck up into Harry's mouth easy and quick, using him like he wants. His thrusts get quicker, shallower as he gets closer, and it doesn't take long before he's pulling Harry down by his hair, shoves his cock in deep again, making Harry gag and choke as he comes down his throat.

Harry gasps wetly as Nick lets him off, wipes at his face where a few tears have spilt their way down his cheeks. His smile is wobbly but wide as he gets up off the floor and climbs right onto Nick's lap, cock red and hard and leaking, sticking up out of his trousers still. Nick wraps a hand around him, thumbing firm at the slit and by the way Harry gasps and arches into him he knows Harry's close.

Nick pulls Harry in with a hand on the back of his neck and licks into his mouth, kissing him deep, tasting himself and what must be lipstick. There's hardly any of it left on Harry's mouth, just a faint pink tinge to his lips and the skin surrounding them.

It doesn't take long at all for Harry to come, digging his fingers into Nick's shoulders and shuddering against his mouth, spilling hot over Nick's fist and whimpering a little with the after shocks of it. "God," he gasps and presses his head against Nick's shoulder, breathing heavily.

Nick laughs and presses his mouth against Harry's sweat damp forehead. "Don't think we'll be giving that one back to Aimee," Nick says and Harry huffs out a laugh, shakes his head.

"You're all pink," Harry says, stroking his fingers gently over Nick's softening cock.

It twitches a little under Harry's touch, sensitive, and Nick bats his hand away. "So are you," Nick says, and touches two of his fingers still wet with Harry's come against Harry's mouth. Harry opens for him and Nick presses his fingers inside, feels a pleasant tug of arousal in his belly as he watches Harry suck his come from Nick's fingers.

Harry pushes at Nick until he falls onto his back, and then they squirm their way up to the pillows. Harry curls up against Nick's chest, nuzzling in against his throat with a happy hum. He has his eyes closed and his arm firm around Nick and really, Nick doesn't have a choice in the matter, it's time for a nap.

Nick's almost asleep when he hears Harry speak, voice thick and deep with satisfaction and sleep. "Think, yeah, think I'd like you to fuck me in a dress one time," he mumbles.

Nick squeezes the arm he has around Harry's shoulders tight and hums his assent. "Alright, princess," he says as a joke, and Harry bites his chest through his tshirt, too sleepy for it to be anything but gentle.

They fall asleep curled up like that, still totally dressed but with their cocks hanging out and Nick would think it's ridiculous if it didn't feel so goddamn nice.

...

So of course, two days later, Nick's in a high end lingerie boutique with Pixie, all hushed whispers among the bras as Pixie pokes at some leopard print thing. They're not there for him and Harry, just a coincidence, really. Pixie called him up and wanted his opinion on picking sexy lingerie for her new boyfriend and Nick's more than happy to oblige, more than happy for the opportunity to scope out a lingerie store now that his head's full of new ideas about what Harry might like.

He's done this a million times before, lingerie shopping with Pix, but he's seeing it all in a new light now. Everything looks so small. He's trying to picture Harry fitting into the little lacy things Pixie picks out but it's impossible, can only get mental images of Harry going all hulk and ripping the flimsy little pieces of fabric to shreds. It's not like Harry's a big person, but he's definitely a boy, a man, and everything Nick sees is so very much made for tiny petite bodies like Pixie's or Alexa's, not for the broad muscle of Harry's chest and shoulders. God, Nick can't imagine Harry's dick ever fitting down the front of a pair of panties.

Pixie holds a white see through lace bra up against her chest and cocks her head. "Slutty or sweet?" she asks.

"Hm, slutty kind of sweet I think. Like, ooh I'm so innocent, please ruin my virtue you big ol' beefcake," Nick says and Pixie screws up her face, puts the bra back on the rack. "Pix," he says, tries to keep his tone as casual as possible but fails by the way Pixie pauses and frowns at him.

"What is it?" she asks suspiciously.

"Nothing like. It's just. Harry said a thing, well," Nick says.

"Like what, god, are you getting married?" She asks, horrified.

"No! Jesus. No, nothing like that. Shit," Nick says and feels a little like he's been hit by a freight train. "Why, do you think--"

"Nick. Focus," she says, reaching up to slap his cheek lightly to pull him out of his deer in headlights expression.

"Right. Err, he wants. It's a little--" He pauses when she clears her throat and looks a little murderous at his waffling. "The other day he had me put, uh, lipstick on him and stuff and like, after, he mentioned about wearing a dress?"

"Oh, is that all," Pixie shrugs, and picks up an emerald green satin thing that looks to be more padding than room for boob. "So, what, were you into it?"

"Hm, I'm not one of 'em fancy bisexuals, you know? I like cock and stubble and stuff," Nick says.

"Oh, that's why you fuck teenagers, then. Terribly manly, they are," Pixie mutters.

"Shut up. That's not a thing, that just... happens. No one likes a jealous judy, Pix," Nick says significantly and Pixie scoffs. "The point is," Nick continues with a wave of his hand like he's shooing away the stench of her questioning his predilection for young, stupid sexual partners. "He really got off on it."

"I had a boyfriend once - no, I'm not saying who. He got off on wearing my stuff. He was always stretching out my favourite underwear, actually, glad to be rid of him," she says with a haughty sniff.

Nick knows he's in too deep because he doesn't particularly care which ex Pixie is referring too, not the mention the fact that he's declining the opportunity to badmouth Pixie's exes and tease her about her terrible taste in men in general, something he usually takes great pleasure in. "I was just thinking that, maybe it'd be nice if I, you know, bought him something," Nick says, fiddling with a hanger.

"Oh, you want me to help you pick out girly underwear for your boyfriend," Pixie gasps with a grin, clapping her hands together in delight. "That's so sweet!"

Nick rolls his eyes and god damnit, he's blushing. "Well, since you have so much experience, apparently."

"I know all about fitting ballsacs inside pants. Wouldn't Harry's lil butt look cute in this?" she says excitedly as she thrusts something pink and frilly at Nick.

"That's a bit," Nick flinches, holding up the pink thing delicately and trying to work out which way is up, deciding perhaps it's actually a misplaced scrunchie. "A bit much. He's not Busta."

"You're right, Busta would look better in these," Pixie smiles and snatches the-- pants, Nick thinks, they must be pants, back off him and tosses them aside. She wraps her fingers around his wrist and gives him a tug. "Come on, I think maybe a slip might be somewhere to start with dear Harold, since he said dress," she says contemplatively.

"He did say dress," Nick agrees.

"We can work our way up to frills," Pixie grins, a mad glint in her eye as she drags him out of the bra section.

...


It took a long time for Nick to find something palatable. and what he ended up choosing Pixie dismissed as dead boring, like something his mum might wear, which wasn't exactly the kind of mental picture he needed but Nick was happy with the choice. It's a plain, dark blue satin thing, with long thin straps and a slit up the side. It has a little stretch too, because Nick was worried about sizing still, even though Pixie held it up against Nick (after he declined to try the thing on, much to her disappointment) and declared that Harry was just a little bit smaller than Nick so it'd be fine as long as it reached across Nick's chest. He has no fucking idea what he's doing, so he had to take her word for it.

He paid for it and the sales assistant wrapped it in about one hundred sheets of tissue paper before slipping it into a ridiculously large, square carry bag that is now sitting beside his sofa. Nick's excited to give it to Harry, but he's nervous, especially with how Harry's been kind of tired, just leaning against Nick's shoulder and flicking through his phone distractedly as they attempt to watch Nigella on TV. Nick's concerned it might not be the right time, but he knows if he doesn't get it together and just do it, give it to him, he'll be too chickenshit to do it later and it'll end up wasting away in the back of his linen cupboard or something. He can feel it, sitting there beside the couch, mocking his eagerness to please Harry, and he doesn't think he could have it in his house mocking him forever.

"I bought you something," Nick says during an ad break, trying for sexy and self assured, ending up sounding mostly hesitant and a little like he's joking.

"Oh, a treat?" Harry asks hopefully, perking up.

"Hm, yes. I think so," Nick nods. Harry sits up a little straighter and looks at him expectantly so Nick just sighs and reaches over the arm of the sofa for the big square bag and hands it to Harry delicately by the handles.

It rustles as Harry snatches it and peeks inside, but there's so much tissue paper he can't see anything. He digs through the paper impatiently, completely destroying the careful packing job the shop assistant had done without so much as a second thought, until he goes suddenly still and reaches inside with both hands. Nick watches with his lip caught between his teeth as Harry frowns and pulls the flimsy, smooth fabric out of the bag.

Harry holds it up by the straps and looks at it for a long time, frown fading from his face, replaced by wide eyes and parted lips. When he looks up at Nick he's flushed, his pupils big and black and Nick almost blushes himself. "This is for me?" Harry asks. He looks and sounds very serious, and very turned on.

Nick just nods. "Would you like to try it on?" he asks and Harry's breath hitches.

"I'm," Harry starts and stops, swallows thickly. He shoves the slip back into the bag and leans over it to pull Nick into a deep, hot kiss, curling his tongue inside Nick's mouth dirty and rough. "Wait for me in your room," Harry says when he pulls back, clinging to Nick's shirt still, breathless.

"Ok," Nick breathes, and Harry jumps up off the sofa and snatches up the bag, hurries off towards Nick's bathroom.

...

Nick sits on his bed and waits five minutes, and then ten minutes, and Harry still hasn't emerged from the bathroom. "You're not jerking off in there, are you?" Nick calls.

"No! Hold on," Harry yells back after a moment of silence. Nick sighs and takes his phone from his pocket, pulls up twitter.

It's been almost half an hour and Nick's sent two narky tweets to Finchy by the time Harry leaves the ensuite, slipping through the door into Nick's room with a rather sheepish kind of expression. Sheepish and flushed, cheeks pinked up prettily. He messes with his hair, pushing it all to the front and smoothing it back and Nick wants to roll his eyes.

The slip fits, sort of. It's tight over Harry's chest, creasing where it pulls and the straps fall loose off his shoulders, but it's on. The colour is good, dark blue against Harry's pale skin, the black of his tattoos. It's low cut enough that the entirety of his swallow tattoos are on display. They're Nick's favourites. He likes to imagine they match his anchor somehow, thematically anyway, sailors or rockabilly or something.

Just after Harry got home from America when the birds were the latest addition to his quickly growing collection of tattoos, Nick got a bit drunk and had some thoughts about the significance of the new ink of Harry's chest. Harry's always flying away from him, he decided (maybe he was a little mopey, a little bitter at the time). Harry's like a bird, Nick's booze addled brain told him, and then he cued up the Nelly Furtado song to really wallow in the sentiment, belting out some heartfelt, embarrassing karaoke.

Once he sobered up though, Nick had to admit there was some truth to it; Harry was in a whole different country when he got them inked, always seems to be in a whole different country. He's never home or in Nick's bed or in Nick's arms enough, not that Nick would ever voice such a petulant complaint. He knew what he was getting into, what he signed up for. Besides, he has a life, he has friends, he has a very important job that he loves, he can get on just fine while his stupid boyfriend is off being a popstar elsewhere in the world.

Harry always comes back is the thing, his first stop as soon as he touches down is Nick's flat, even when he's exhausted and grumpy and mopey. It's like Nick's an anchor pulling Harry back, keeping him tethered, and now that's all he can think about when he looks at the anchor inked on his wrist, even though he originally picked it out just because he thought it looked cool. Harry's managed to warp it into something soggy and emo. Nick hasn't asked Harry about the meaning behind his birds, hasn't asked about any of his tattoos, really. Harry relishes being deep and vague far too much for Nick to give him the opportunity. Besides, he likes his understanding of them even though it seems dramatic and a little depressing. Harry seems to have a tattoo for everyone in his life, and Nick likes to pretend that his biggest and most visible would be for him.

Harry moves differently in the slip, Nick thinks. There's an extra sway to his hips, or maybe it's just an effect from the hem of the slip shifting over Harry's thighs, revealing more pale skin as Harry steps towards him. There's a faint yellow and purple bruise on Harry's thigh, another on his chest, both of them shaped like Nick's mouth. Seeing them sends a roll of arousal down Nick's spine, makes his fingers itch to grab Harry and pull him close and work on leaving some more bruises, fresh ones, dark and enough in number to match Harry's tattoos.

Bruises, Nick's noticing bruises, when Harry's stood in front of him in a ladies undergarment. There had been a little niggling worry in the back of Nick's mind that he wouldn't be into it, that the slip would be too much, that Harry would go funny and girly once he had it on and Nick wouldn't be able to get it up. Of course, it was a ridiculous thing to think; the slip doesn't do much for him either way, but god, Harry does. Harry's all flushed and his fingers are curling and uncurling into fists at his sides, like maybe he wants to cover himself. He just looks so vulnerable, and everything in Nick wants to reassure him, wants to hold him close and tell him how beautiful he is.

Harry's cock is hard, straining against the satin lewdly and Nick would probably think it's funny if it didn't look so hot, Harry's cock pushing up the hem so Nick can just see the swell of his balls peeking out the bottom. "You look good," Nick tells him, eyes focused between Harry's legs because he never pretended to be a gentleman. Harry makes a pleased sound and Nick flicks his eyes up to his face to see him go even pinker, mouth curved in a little smile, eyes bright and shining as he looks down at Nick.

Harry touches himself, slides his hands over the satin covering his hips and belly, "feels good too," Harry says, voice deep and thick.

"Kind of ruins the effect, though," Nick says and nods towards Harry's crotch.

"Nah, that's the best part I think," Harry says, and sweeps his hair out of his face. He manages to look haughty and vulnerable both at once. "It's not like I want to pretend I'm a girl or anything. I just, I like how it feels. I like being pretty for you."

"Darling," Nick says, levels a look at Harry and reaches out to curl his hand in the hem of the slip. He tugs him in and presses a brief kiss to where Harry's cock has soaked an eager little wet patch of precome into the fabric. It takes a lot of restraint for Nick to pull back, especially with how Harry bucks his hips forward, making the hot, thick length of him drag against Nick's lips through the satin.

Nick looks up at Harry, his hands gripping Harry's hips firmly to keep him still. Harry looks right back at him, eyes dark and heavy lidded, flushed right down his chest, mouth red and bitten, hair in disarray, a curl hanging over his eye. "You're the prettiest boy I've ever seen," Nick says and it's fucking true.

Harry makes a thick noise in his throat and surges forward, grabs Nick's shoulders and crashes their lips together, moaning into Nick's mouth when their teeth knock awkwardly before he's shoving his tongue thick and warm between Nick's lips, kissing him deep like he's greedy for closer.

Nick gives back as good as he gets, tugging at Harry's hair until Harry relents and lets Nick's tongue into his mouth, more than happy to let Nick take the lead again. Satisfied, Nick curls his tongue against the roof of Harry's mouth and slips his hands down to Harry's thighs, intending to reward him with his hand on his cock but as soon as he touches Harry's skin he falters, pulling away to blink up at Harry as he strokes a hand down his thigh.

"Did you-- fuck, you're all smooth," Nick says almost reverently, caught off guard. He slips his hands down the smooth curves of Harry's totally hairless calves and Harry rolls his hips forward and nods, manages to blush pinker still. He's totally smooth, completely hairless and that's what took Harry so long in the bathroom, the little shit was shaving his legs.

"You need a new razor, probably," Harry admits sheepishly, breath coming short, and Nick doesn't even care about his razor. There's something absurdly hot about the thought of Harry taking Nick's razor and furtively shaving himself, his cock getting harder as he does it. Nick licks his lips as he smoothes his hands up the back of Harry's legs, brushing over the ticklish insides on his knees and then up higher, spreading his hands out on the back's of Harry's smooth, pale thighs. "This is good though, yeah?" Harry asks.

"Feels nice," Nick reassures him and fights the urge to bend down low and drag his tongue over Harry's silky smooth skin. He presses his face against Harry's satin covered belly instead, presses a hot wet kiss there. "Just as soft as the slip," he says, looking up at Harry and trailing his fingers lightly higher up the backs of Harry's thighs, until he's stroking his fingers over the crease below the swell of Harry's arse.

Harry shudders and Nick lets his fingers creep higher, slip between his cheeks and brush over his hole just to hear Harry moan, gasp, "please," like it's automatic. Nick smiles and takes his fingers away, huffing out a laugh at the little noise of disappointment Harry makes.

"Do you want the lipstick, too?" Nick asks, voice low and muffled against Harry's belly. Harry threads his fingers through Nick's ruined hair and gives a little impatient tug.

"No," Harry whines. "I can't wait, need you to fuck me, like right now, god."

"Yeah," Nick agrees as his dick gives an impatient twitch. "Ok," he says and leans back a little, enough so that after Harry's snatched up the lube from Nick's bedside drawer he can climb onto Nick's lap. Harry's so eager, more so even than usual, verging on desperate Nick thinks, by the way his thighs shake a little bit where they're spread wide over Nick's lap.

Nick takes the lube and Harry's hand, flicks the cap off with his thumb and slicks up Harry's fingers for him. "Be a good boy and open yourself up for me, love," Nick says and Harry moves to comply straight away, shifting up on his knees and reaching behind himself. Nick loves to watch Harry finger himself, he's done it to him enough himself to be able to read Harry's face like a book, knows when he first presses his finger inside by the way his eyelids flutter and the little pleased gasp he makes. Harry loves to put on a bit of a show and Nick's a more than willing audience. Hell, he'd even pay if Harry wanted him to.

Harry moans, and Nick knows he must have pushed a second finger inside himself, but Nick reaches around to feel it anyway, to feel Harry's long, thick fingers pressing into himself, stretching himself open, getting himself ready for Nick's cock. The angle is awkward, Nick knows he won't be able to get his fingers deep enough for it to feel good like he needs, but Nick likes that, likes that he has to wait for Nick's cock to give him a little relief. Nick's fingers are still wet from helping Harry slick up his own so it seems obvious that he'd nudge one of his fingers in alongside the two of Harry's, just to feel the hot, tight press of him. He can't help himself when Harry groans though, and has to pull out and yank Harry's fingers out of himself and come back in with three of his own, jam them into him, twist them deep.

Harry grips Nick's shoulders and rocks himself back, trying to fuck himself on Nick's fingers, moaning. Nick leans up to catch Harry's nipple between his teeth, strokes his tongue over it, soaking the fabric and making Harry squrim, trying to arch up against Nick's mouth and push back on Nick's fingers. Nick loves it, revels in taking Harry apart, making him desperate. "Think you should ride me, darling. Just hitch up your skirt and sink down on my cock, hm?"

"Ye--, yes," Harry gasps out and moans low and long. "Please now, fuck me now," he says, his voice strained and desperate. He reaches back to tug at Nick's arm, only happy to lose the press of Nick's fingers inside him when he knows Nick's cock is replacing them, about to fill him up even better.

Harry leans up higher on his knees, shifts closer and grabs Nick's face between his hands, bends to kiss him as Nick slicks his cock and gets a hand around the base of it, holds it still and wraps his other hand around Harry's hip, under the fabric, to guide him into place, down. There's a moment of of delicious anticipation, in which Harry's eyes open and they stare at each other, breathing harsh against each other's mouths while Nick's cock slips up the crack of Harry's arse, rubs slick against his hole, until it finally catches and with a little push of Nick's hips, he's nudging into him. Harry drops his head against Nick's shoulder and groans, long and low, as he lowers himself down on Nick's cock, taking him in slowly, inch by inch.

Harry curls his arms around Nick's shoulders, breathes harshly in Nick's ear and holds him tight as he sinks down. "God, Nick, it's so good. I'm not gonna last," he gasps.

"That's ok," Nick says and then Harry kisses him again as he starts to move, fucking himself on Nick's cock eagerly, little twitchy rolls of his hips. Nick holds onto Harry's waist tightly, leaving sticky fingerprints in the fabric, and shoves his hips up to meet Harry's, trying to get deeper, trying to get more of that perfect, tight heat around him.

Harry's so hot everywhere under the slip, Nick can feel it bleeding through the fabric. He spreads his hands out on Harry's back and feels all the muscle of his back shifting hot and firm under the satin as Harry works himself on his cock. Harry feels like liquid, smooth and perfect everywhere Nick touches him. Nick wishes desperately, suddenly, that they'd taken the time to get him out of his clothes so he could feel Harry all over, feel his body pressed tight against Nick's through the satin.

"Nick," Harry gasps against Nick's mouth, "fuck me." So Nick does, reaches down under the hem of the slip to wrap his big hands around the backs of Harry's thighs, up high so his fingers slip over the curve of his arse, spreading him open. Nick holds him like that and begins to thrust up into Harry's body, as hard as he can, jostling Harry's whole body with the force of it. "Yeah," Harry gasps and throws his head back, holding Nick's shoulders tightly.

Harry's breath hitches shallow in his throat and Nick knows he's close, it isn't going to take much more, so he pulls Harry down on his cock, all the way, holds him there and presses his mouth against the hot skin under Harry's ear, says, "touch yourself, sweetheart." Harry's shifting, trying to keep fucking himself on Nick's cock but Nick just holds him there, keeps him full up until Harry obeys, his hand shaking a little, fumbling with the hem of the slip, pulling it out of the way to get his hand wrapped around himself.

"God, Nick, I'm gonna come," he groans and Nick lets him go, lets him bounce himself on his cock as he jerks himself off, quick and frantic. Nick just watches him, the muscle of his bicep standing out as he works his cock, the dark blue satin against his skin, his sweat damp curls hanging in his flushed face. He looks beautiful and Nick wants him so badly, even with his cock buried in him, he stills wants him.

"You look so lovely," Nick says, voice deep and rough and that's all it takes for Harry to arch up against him, gasp out a curse and go tight around Nick's cock as he comes; hot white threads of it striping over the dark blue slip, right up to the neckline.

"Oh no," Harry groans as his body shudders and Nick goes still, holding him close until he's through.

"Oh no?" Nick mumbles in question, lips pressed against Harry's sweaty temple.

"Mmm, it's ruined, my present's ruined," Harry gasps and dips to nose against Nick's jaw, drag his mouth against Nick's skin until his lips meet Nick's. He kisses him softly.

"I'll get you a new one. Get you as many as you like," Nick mutters into Harry's mouth and sucks on his bottom lip, hips shifting restlessly under Harry's weight.

"Really?" Harry says and clenches down on Nick's cock, makes him groan.

"Yeah, whatever you want." Nick's voice is breathless and strained, his fingers digging into Harry's waist from the effort of keeping still.

"Want you to finish fucking me now, please," Harry says with a slow, dopey smile and mouthes at Nick's chin. Nick huffs out a laugh and kisses him.

"On your back then, come on," Nick directs and jerks his hips up, jostling Harry on his lap. Harry shifts up off Nick's cock, flops himself down on his back beside Nick, squirms up the bed a bit and spreads his legs. Nick stands up long enough to get his trousers and pants off the rest of the way, and then crawls onto the bed after Harry, up between his legs. He bends down to kiss him, lick deep in his mouth as he gets a hand on his cock to guide it back into Harry's body.

Harry makes a little strained noise and Nick swallows it down, gripping the backs of Harry's thighs to push them up, press Harry's knees to his chest as he shoves his cock in deep. He angles it just right to make Harry cry out, tangle his fingers tight in Nick's hair and pant against his mouth. Nick bites sharply at Harry's bottom lip and pulls away, straightens up so he can fuck him harder, push his cock harder against that place in Harry that makes him come apart.

Harry looks just as pretty as ever squirming under him, his come stained slip rucked up around his waist, the neckline of it all pulled askew, showing off his taut nipples as his chest heaves with his big gasping breaths. Harry looks dazed, eyes wide and glassy, flushed pink right down his neck as Nick fucks him well enough to get his cock fattening up again.

Nick reaches down and tugs the hem of the slip down over Harry's sensitive cock, wraps his hand over it and starts to jerk him off through the slippery, damp satin. The fabric is thin enough that Nick can feel every bit of him through it, just makes it hotter, silkier. Harry groans and shoves his hips up, jittery and erratic, like it's too much but Nick knows he can take it, can come again. "Hold your legs, darling," Nick tells him and Harry nods like he's too gone for words, frowning and biting his lip as he gets his own hands off Nick and hooked around the back of his knees so he can keep them pulled up tight against him.

Nick leans over him, keeps his hand working Harry's cock through the slip as he gets the other behind Harry's neck, holding him close as he kisses his mouth, licking against his lips delicately before pressing his mouth against his chin, his jaw. Harry tips his head back with a gasp, exposes the stretch of his neck to Nick's mouth in invitation. Nick licks a wet hot stripe up his throat, starting in the hollow of his clavicle, tasting the sweat there before licking right up over his adam's apple, around to set his mouth against the skin under Harry's ear, biting sharp and sucking to mark him.

Nick's hardly moving inside him anymore, just little rolls of his hips, can't or he might come and he'd like to make Harry come for a second time before he finishes. It doesn't seem he'll have to wait much longer though, with how Harry's breathing harsh, and the desperate little bitten off sounds lost in his throat that Nick can feel against his mouth as he sucks bruises high up and dark enough to be obvious, unmistakable and difficult to hide.

Harry's arms shake, holding his legs tight, and Nick turns his head to kiss his trembling bicep, squeezes Harry's cock, slips his hand down further to roll his palm over his balls. Harry makes a gurgling sound and grunts out something like Nick's name, shoving his hips against Nick's touch, against Nick's cock buried in his arse.

"So close, Nick, I'm gonna, again, if you just," Harry gasps out, breathless and wrecked. Nick kisses his shoulder, his jaw, kisses his mouth again and Harry whines into it. "If you just fuck me, I'll come, I think, god," Harry gasps and Nick raises his eyebrows, pulls out a little to shove back into him and Harry gasps, nodding, "keep going, you awful tease."

Nick does, presses his face into Harry's neck and breathes against his skin as he reaches up with the hand not wrapped over Harry's cock to grasp at the headboard, use it to help him really drive into Harry. Harry cries out with every thrust, seems to get tighter every time Nick shoves his cock deep into him. It's too much and Nick loses it, his hips stuttering into Harry a few short, sharp times before he comes, vision whiting out, gasping Harry's name like he can't breathe, like Harry might be able to help him when he's in an even worse state.

Harry comes for the second time while Nick's still shuddering through the end of his own orgasm with a helpless little noise, clenching down on Nick's cock and making him groan all over again, spurting out a little more come to dirty up the slip, except on the inside of it this time with how Nick's still got it covering his cock.

"Jesus," Nick gasps and Harry says something like "hnugh". Nick think it's probably an agreement.

He presses a kiss to Harry's cheek and eases off and out of him, rolls to lie beside him. Harry lets out a long, shaky breath and lets his legs slide down, one of them flopping over Nick's. Nick reaches down and rubs over Harry's thigh, pressing in to knead at the muscle, knows he's probably a little stiff. Harry hums and rolls over, towards Nick, curls up almost on top of him with the bunched up slip pressing silky soft and sticky with come all up against Nick's side. It's pretty gross but Nick doesn't mind so much, just strokes his fingers through Harry's sweaty curls and takes in the happy, dopey content smile on Harry's face.

"When we, uh, go to buy a new slip," Harry says, his voice deep and hoarse and his chin digging sharp into Nick's chest as he speaks. "Do you think we could get some panties too? Or, oh, stockings. Like, thigh high things, you know, or--"

"Yes," Nick interrupts him before he gets anymore carried away, tugs at his hair. "Whatever you want."

"Want something I can wear, like, under my clothes, on stage," Harry says.

"You're dreadful," Nick says emphatically and tucks his arm around Harry, hand slipping down to stroke at the smooth, shaved skin of Harry's thigh.

"You love it," Harry grins.

"Mm," Nick says and he's sleepy enough to let himself say it, "I love you."

Harry makes a delighted noise and squirms up Nick's body, come smearing off the slip and all over Nick's chest as Harry pulls himself up to kiss Nick's mouth, which makes the mess he's made all over Nick less horrifying. "You too," Harry mumbles against Nick's mouth and Nick grunts in response, eyes slipping shut as Harry nuzzles against his throat. Nick pats his bum fondly, sleepily, and Harry rests on him heavier. "Thanks Nick, really," he says.

"My pleasure," Nick responds, managing a smile before he tucks his face into Harry's curls and falls asleep.