It starts because Louis steps on a condom.
He doesn’t realize it’s a condom at first. His foot slides forward in a sudden rush as he makes his way down the aisle between the bunks. He catches himself before he falls backwards and looks down, half expecting to find one of Harry’s banana peels. He hopes it’s a banana peel, because tripping over a banana peel would be hilarious. If he’d tripped over a banana peel, he could tweet about it and then leave it under Harry’s pillow as revenge.
Instead, it’s a used condom. A condom that someone used, then threw to the ground, which Louis is now touching with the bare skin of his foot. Damned if he’s going to start wearing socks but, ew, oh bollocks, that’s touching his bare skin. Can he get herpes through his foot?
He doesn’t know whose pillow to leave it under, so instead he hollers at the top of his lungs, “Band meeting!”
Niall pops over quickly enough, Liam next, and eventually Harry, and then they have to send Niall back to collect Zayn, who’s napping in the back of the bus, but finally they’re all there.
“We already said no to a taco night,” Zayn says, draping himself across Niall’s shoulders and rubbing at the sleep crease in his cheek.
“This is not about tacos,” Louis says darkly. “Although that was certainly one of the greatest mistakes you’ll ever make. Harry would cook and then we’d eat tacos; I can’t believe this is even up for discussion.”
“Too many beans for Nialler,” Liam says. “I have to sleep under him.”
Harry rubs at his chin thoughtfully and says, “There’s not a real kitchen. How would I be able to cook for all of you, and also be able to make some for the crew because otherwise that wouldn’t be fair, would it? I guess I could do it in batches but we’d need to find some extra bowls. There were some great bowls at this shop I was at in Austin but I didn’t buy them.”
Louis rolls his eyes so hard that he can see the inside of his eye socket and says, “Cheers, Harry. Never speak again. This isn’t about taco night.” He crosses his arms across his chest and levels a stern glare at each of the boys, one by one. “This is about one of you leaving your rubber on the floor and I just stepped on it and you’re disgusting and no longer allowed to sleep on the same bus as me. Who was it?”
Niall starts chortling almost immediately, his face going red as he cackles and slaps at his thigh, while Liam, Zayn and Harry all looked appropriately grossed out but also like they’re just moments away from starting to laugh with Niall.
It could be any of them.
“I’m serious,” Louis says. “The depravity must end. Whoever did this is off the bus and bunking with the crew.”
“Come off it, Lou,” Zayn says. “It was probably just a mistake.”
“You?” Louis asks, clutching at his chest. “My own partner in crime and you would do this to me?”
“It wasn’t me,” Zayn says, shaking his head and giving the most disgruntled and betrayed look Louis has ever seen. Which means very little, given that Zayn gave that exact same look when he found Louis used up the last of the milk so there was none left for his tea this morning.
“Zayn doesn’t use condoms,” Harry says, and then laughs to himself at Zayn’s outraged face.
“Okay, Safe Sex, thanks for fessing up,” Louis says.
“I didn’t have sex on the bus last night,” Harry says, holding both hands up.
“Yeah, we all heard you getting off in the supply cupboard after the meet and greet,” Niall says. “And don’t even look at me, Lou. The bunks are too claustrophobic for me to try to have a shag in.”
“He did say he found the condom on the aisle, not in the bunks,” Liam points out.
“So it was probably you then,” Niall says. “Every time I catch you mid-shag you’re standing, upside down, whatever kama sutra bullshite.”
“Speaking of - learn to knock,” Liam says.
“That’s alright,” Harry says, cupping his hand around the back of Niall’s neck. “Liam’s still figuring out how to be single. You have to let him have his jollies.”
“Says the shagger of the year.”
“The point is: who was it, tell me now, this has to end,” Louis says. “I need to go bathe my foot in acid.”
“As if it’s worse than listening to you wank off every night,” Liam says.
“Excuse you. I’m silent.”
Niall throws his head back and starts gasping, “Ah, ah, ahhh,” in which might be a good imitation of Louis having an orgasm if not for the fact that he’s sure he never makes a sound.
“Niall,” Louis exclaims. “You literally ripped a hole in your sheets when you were tossing off last month.”
Harry snorts and Louis points at him. “And you always make this sound like you’re crying, and you,” he says, pointing at Liam, “always rock the whole bus. And everyone can tell when you’re sexting,” he finishes, pointing at Zayn. “The whole lot of you are randy bastards.”
“You’re just as bad,” Harry says.
“I could go twice as long without having sex as you could,” Louis says, which is not normally something he would brag about, but desperate times.
“Because you wank off twice as much,” Harry says.
“I wank less than all of you!”
Niall starts laughing again, which. Rude.
“Let’s just go finish the movie,” Liam says. “We’re going to be pulling over for supper soon.”
“I do!” Louis shouts.
“There is absolutely no way that you could go longer than I could, but I know you’re upset because you stepped on Harry’s rude leftover, so why don’t we just --”
“Excuse me, Liam,” Harry says. “As I already explained, that wasn’t mine.”
“You could not.” Louis scowls at Liam, incensed.
Zayn’s still leaning against the wall, doing a good impression of a drugged sloth, which is why it’s that much more of a betrayal when he says, “He probably could.”
“I could definitely go longer than you,” Louis shoots back.
Zayn scoffs and actually stands up straight for the first time. There’s still a red line across his cheek from his nap. He makes a duckface and shakes his head at Louis.
And then Louis says, “I bet £10,000 I could go longer without wanking than any of you,” which was probably his first mistake.
The first day is brutal.
Louis thought it was supposed to start easy and get harder but it’s actually exceedingly hard all day long. Specifically his cock, which he has to continually wrangle under the waistband of his jeans so it doesn’t tent out the front obscenely. He’s only gone without his morning wank in the shower, and that’s not unheard of, but the fact that he knows he can’t jerk off later if he wants to renders him unable to stop thinking about it. His body probably isn’t as worked up as his mind is, but mother fuck on a cheese cake, he can’t stop thinking about his dick.
He flops onto the couch beside Liam and sighs loudly. They’ve still got another hour until the concert. He’s already got his hair done and his dick is fully outraged at the idea of no orgasms in the foreseeable future. Everything is terrible and there are no distractions, except Liam, who’s really at fault for all of this.
“Sometimes I have ideas,” Louis says. “You don’t always have to listen to me.”
“The last time I didn’t listen to you, you super glued all of my socks together. And that was about climbing on top of the bus while it was still moving. I’m pretty sure that you do want everyone to listen to you all the time.” Liam has his head dropped as he stares at the phone on his lap. His chin bumps up against his chest when he talks.
“That was different,” Louis says. “You should only listen to me when I have good ideas.”
“You think all of your ideas are good ideas.”
“Well, I’m just saying. If everyone didn’t keep riling me up then we wouldn’t always end up in these situations,” Louis huffs. “It’s hardly my fault.”
“About the wanking?”
“You could just call if off,” Liam suggests.
“You call it off,” Louis says. “You all call it off and admit that I’ve won.”
“I’m still doing okay,” Liam says, with a slightly apologetic shrug. “I mean, it has only been like 23 hours.”
“I know that,” Louis snaps. “Everything is fine, stop talking to me.” And then he kicks at Liam’s thighs until he gets up and leaves Louis and Louis’s permaboner to have the couch to themselves.
They play the show and climb back on the bus. Louis heads straight for his bunk and spends a couple of hours Skyping with his family. When he leaves again, Zayn’s curtains are already closed and Liam’s in his bunk with his headphones in. Louis taps his fingers against Liam’s ankle as he passes by and heads to the back lounge.
The telly’s on but the sound is muted. Harry and Niall are curled together on the couch. Harry’s managed to twist himself up so that he can rest his head on Niall’s chest, his cheek all smushed against Niall’s ribcage.
He doesn’t move except to bend his knees, wrapping himself even tighter around Niall and hooking his feet over Niall’s calves so there’s a little room at the end of the couch for Louis to sit.
“Are either of you ready to admit defeat?” Louis asks.
Neither of them respond. Niall pets Harry’s hair into a slightly neater pile, pushing it away from where it was tickling his nipple.
“Me neither,” Louis says.
Day two is even worse, so Louis is forced to duct tape Liam’s hands to his nipples. He was just trying to duct tape Liam’s nipples to themselves, but Liam’s hands got in the way, so what did he expect was going to happen.
He gives Liam a little grope while Liam’s hands are occupied. Liam screams bloody murder, but Louis felt his dick and it was not 100% flaccid. If Louis has to be hard, everyone has to be hard. He spends the rest of the day grabbing as many of their dicks as he can, which is working great until, acting on pure instinct after a full day of cockgrabs, he goes for Paul’s and ends up locked in a storage closet for three hours.
They have an interview and photoshoot, then a concert, and everyone meets for drinks in the lobby afterwards, so by the time Louis makes it to his bunk, he’s tired enough to sleep and tipsy enough not to mind that he’s still hard.
“How are we all doing then?” Louis asks the bus. “Anyone have anything they want to share with the class?”
“Stuff it, Tommo,” Niall says from across the aisle. He sounds a little pained, which Louis finds comforting.
“I miss sex,” Harry says, sadly.
“I miss sleeping,” Zayn says in a quiet way that clearly hints he knows at least fourteen places he could hide their bodies.
He’s probably also suffering, Louis assumes. Everyone is probably suffering. Maybe this wasn’t Louis’s worst idea after all.
“Problems?” Louis asks, coming up beside Harry as Harry struggles with the flies of his jeans. They just had a radio call-in this afternoon and now there’s a solid two hours with nothing scheduled before the show. Louis remembers when two hours didn’t even seem like long enough for a good nap, but now it’s a monstrous amount of time to be left to his own devices.
“It’s fine,” Harry says. He lifts the elastic waist of his pants to hold his cock back while he eases the zip up over the bulk of his erection.
“Admit it,” Louis says. “You’re dying for a wank.”
Harry sighs, his fingers twitching at his flies before he folds them carefully away.
“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Harry says. “But now every time I go for a wank, I picture all the kids dying of malaria.”
It was Zayn’s idea to donate the money lost in the bet to Invisible Children and Liam’s idea that they never ever tell anyone where the money came from.
“That’s weird, even for you,” Louis says.
“You’re not doing any better,” Harry says, nodding down at Louis’s crotch.
“Mind your eyes,” Louis says. His hand flutters before he realizes that he can’t hide his boner by covering it with his hand. And also that it’s better to keep his hands as far away from his prick as possible.
He exhales slowly and Harry mimics the sound, not like he’s teasing but like he’s feeling the same tightening pull as Louis, that low tug of wanting that makes him breathless.
“You can always give just up,” Louis offers, keeping his voice gentle.
Harry nods and then catches himself, looking thoughtful.
“I might,” Harry allows. “But also, like. I think I want to win?”
“Really?” Louis asks.
Harry shrugs. He’s so soft and pink on the outside, but Louis knows he’s stubborn as fuck underneath. He just doesn’t show it very often.
“It would be funny, right?” Harry asks. “If I won.”
“It certainly would be something,” Louis says. The first sign of an apocalypse, probably. Harry’s stubborn, but he’s also the easiest person Louis knows. Which is one of his favorite things about Harry, obviously, but if Harry can last longer than the rest of them? They probably need some help.
Harry chews on his lower lip and shrugs at Louis.
“Okay,” Louis says, sharply. “Ten minute truce.”
He ushers Harry into the first room he finds unlocked, which turns out to be a little conference room. Louis sits at the the head of the table and eyes the phone just in front of him. Prank calls are always a good distraction.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Louis snaps. He’s still looking straight ahead at the phone but he can feel Harry’s gaze on the side of his face.
Harry leans forward and clasps his hands in front of himself on the table.
“‘m not,” he says. “Are we going to jack off now?”
“What?” Louis yelps. “No! What the fuck do you think truce means?”
“I don’t know,” Harry whines.
“Wanking isn’t a truce, it’s giving up. I’m not giving up,” Louis says. He would really, really like to give up. He thought it would be fine, but it turns out he needs, like, just the regular amount of orgasms. One to three orgasms a day. He’s getting even harder now, sat here kitty-corner to Harry, thinking about all the dick touching he is not going to get to do tonight. Why does everyone always have to listen to the words that come out of his mouth? They’re only words until other people make them real.
“Didn’t you just say you wanted to win?” Louis reminds him. It’s easier when he focuses on other people.
“Lou,” Harry says, lowly. “I think maybe--”
“What?” Louis says.
“Maybe I won’t win?” Harry offers, turning it into a question. His thighs flex, legs pulling further open as he squirms in his chair. He’s close enough that his elbow bumps up against Louis’s forearm when he moves. Close enough that it would be nothing for Louis to drop his hand under the table, rub his palm over the thick line of his cock. He knows what it feels like because sometimes when they were still teenagers, and very, very silly, they would rub each other off. It really did seem silly then, but right now it seems like --
Louis forces himself to breath out slow and and steady as he can manage. Harry licks his lips. It’s been years since Louis’s touched his prick. It doesn’t seem silly now.
“No,” Louis snaps, pushing himself away from the table. “I said it was a truce. Stop trying to -- just stop. We need to get ready for the show.”
He marches himself out of the room without looking back to see if Harry’s following, but pauses to hold the door open behind himself because of course Harry is going to follow. They walk down the hallway together while Louis tries to find the most populated section of the venue. It would be better not to be alone right now.
This is a worse idea than the time he dared Niall to eat straight mayonnaise and then do a handstand.
They wander into the green room, where Zayn is lying, shirtless, on the couch. He’s all soft and sleepy, stretched out in this long line, his tattoos standing out in stark relief against his smooth skin. One of his hands rests behind his head and he blinks slowly when the door opens, looking up and smiling in that unguarded way he has when it’s just them, like he’s just genuinely, sweetly happy to see his boys.
“Well you can just fuck yourself to hell and back,” Louis says, turning on his heel and storming out of the room.
That night he doesn’t say anything before bed, just lies in the dark with one hand wrapped around his cock, holding on to it without moving. It helps. A little.
They’re still going to be on the road for at least another three hours and Louis’s restless so he wanders up and down the aisle. He’s moving in between the bunks when a sound stops him. Generally they’ve got an unspoken rule not to pester anyone once he’s got his curtains closed, but this is ground zero and the times are far from general.
Louis pauses, strains to hear, and, yeah. That’s definitely a wet, rhythmic, unmistakable sound coming from Niall’s bunk. There used to be a time in his life when he wasn’t delighted to hear his bandmates wanking, Louis is pretty sure.
“Oh my god. Niall, are you wanking? Niall, are you in there wanking?” Louis asks, tapping at the curtain with a soft fist.
“Yeah,” Niall says, grunting a little like he’s giving himself one last squeeze before there’s the rustling sound of clothing being pulled up.
“You’ve given up already?” Louis asks, delighted. All of his plans are coming into place. Nothing feels as good as sweet victory. “You’re admitting that you lose?”
“I’ve been out for two days,” Niall says. He pulls the curtain back, all pink cheeks and bright blond hair in the darkness of his bunk.
“What?” Louis flaps his arms in outrage. “Were you ever planning on telling any of us?”
“I left my cheque on the fridge,” Niall says. “Thought you already knew.”
“You did not,” Louis says, spinning on his heel and marching over to the kitchen. On the fridge, held up by a We Do It Bigger In Texas magnet that seems to be vaguely in the shape of a cock, is a cheque signed by Niall. There’s a spot of what looks like barbeque sauce on the edge of it.
“It’s not my fault that you were being sneaky,” Louis says once he’s sulked back to Niall’s bunk.
Niall has his hand resting low on his stomach, just above the bulge in his trackies. His cheeks have bloomed a dark red, but Louis doesn’t know if that’s from being caught or from all of the wanking he was doing. With his hand on his cock. His hand is currently on his belly, but before it was wrapped around his cock, and he was pulling himself off, and he was going to come. Louis would really like to come. It’s probably the only thing in this world that would come close to feeling as good as sweet victory, but. He has to focus.
“It’s on the fridge,” Niall says. “Don’t know where would be more noticeable than the fridge.”
“Well, anyway,” Louis says, “you caved. Now you can help me get everyone else out.”
“Umm,” Niall says, which sounds a lot like yes.
Liam doesn’t want to be a jerk, but he doesn’t know what everyone is making such a fuss about. Sure it’s nice to wank in the shower sometimes, but he’s just been doubling up on cardio and mostly he’s doing fine. He’s going to win this and then he’s going to be able to brag about it forever.
“Really?” Niall asks. “Fine?”
“Yeah,” Liam says. He feels a bit apologetic, but he’s not sure why, given that Niall got himself out already and is therefore the one person that Liam is definitely allowed to be honest around. Louis goes purple when Liam hints that he’s still hanging strong, and Harry’s been spending an awful lot of time rubbing his own thighs. Zayn’s the only one who still seems normal, but then discussions on wanking habits were never a big part of their pre-bet friendship.
“Totally fine?” Niall asks. “You don’t miss it at all?”
“Umm,” Liam says. “It’s only been one week?”
Niall humphs, which must mean Louis had been looking for a different answer. Niall doesn’t usually ask questions out of his own curiosity. It’s a bit strange that he’s been trying to help Louis out, but he hasn’t been doing a very good job at it. Louis and Niall are about a subtle as a bowling ball on a spaceship. Would that be subtle? It would probably float around and hit everyone on the head, but Liam isn’t exactly sure how gravity works.
“You can tell him I woke up with a boner this morning if that’ll make him happy,” Liam offers. This didn’t use to be his life, but he also didn’t used to be able to sell out arenas, so he’ll take it.
“Awesome,” Niall says. “It cheers him up a lot when he thinks that other people are suffering as much as he is.”
“No one is suffering as much as he is,” Liam says.
“I know,” Niall says, sighing the sigh of someone who has heard exactly how much Louis is suffering.
“He’s trying to turn us against each other,” Liam says.
Niall nods. He’s got the sparkle that comes with being able to wank freely and it’s making him look extra pink and relaxed and cheerful. Like how he always looks, except turned up to eleven. Liam’s fine, but he’s not relaxed. His body is aching something fierce from all the extra time he’s been spending at the gym and he thinks he might have pulled a muscle in his back when he was doing deadlifts yesterday.
“Does he really think it’s going to work?” Liam asks.
“Is it?” Niall asks.
“Well, he cut the sleeves off all of my t-shirts,” Liam says, “but no one is out of the game because of it, so now I need to find some new t-shirts.”
Niall laughs. “He bought Harry a box of ice lollies and said he should spend more time sucking on things.”
“I noticed that,” Liam says, feeling himself start to frown before he works his mouth into a more neutral expression. He’s never seen someone look quite so currish while deep throating an ice lolly. It was a bit distracting.
“Harry’s suffering,” Niall says.
“What about you?” Liam asks.
“What does Louis have you doing?”
“He told me to stand around and look available.”
“Yeah?” Liam asks. He can see both Niall’s nipples through the thin fabric of his vest.
Niall gives a shrug that probably means: hard to be more available than I already am, Liam’s not sure, that’s just the message he’s getting right now. It’s been a bit difficult to focus.
Liam forces himself to blink. They were talking about something.
“He told Zayn to start wearing a bag over his head because he was finding his face counterproductive,” says Liam after what is probably just a reasonable pause.
Niall throws his head back and cackles, looking so loose and joyous in his body that Liam feel even tenser in comparison.
“Anyway,” Liam says, “I need to go for a run now,” and then he bolts.
Luckily Liam already has years of practice, because Louis seems to think that the best way to get Liam out is to wank him off himself. He keeps going for Liam’s dick, even in the middle of interviews. Which is actually no different than any other series of interviews, except that this time Louis wants to get Liam to come instead of just embarrass himself, or whatever his goals usually are. Liam’s used to Louis wanting to make it hurt or humiliate, and it’s always for the sake of a good laugh so Liam doesn’t mind, but he’s not used to Louis like this.
“Stop,” Liam hisses. He was in the middle of answering a question so Louis managed to wiggle his fingers into Liam’s lap and now has his hand wrapped around Liam’s cock. As much as he can manage through Liam’s jeans, anyway. They’re doing a radio interview and there’s a table in front of them so probably no one has noticed, and even if they have: not the first time this has been caught on film.
The only thing that is a first is that Liam’s gone quickly, achingly hard. It’s not his fault, because Louis is clearly trying to make him hard and it has been over a week, but Liam’s so embarrassed that his stomach is sore with it. He wants Louis’s hand gone because, in spite of everything, it feels good.
“Stop,” he whispers again, pulling futilely at Louis’s wrist. Every time he tries to wrench Louis’s hand away, Louis just tightens his fingers, holding on hard enough that it actually hurts a little.
Which still isn’t doing anything to bring Liam’s hard-on down, no matter how many angry thoughts he sends to his prick.
“I’m just trying to help,” Louis whispers, rocking the heel of his hand down when Liam finally stops trying to push him away. He rubs his palm in a firm stroke over Liam’s cock and even though the thick denim, it feels incredible. Amazingly, horribly incredible.
It’s not fair that Louis knows how to touch him like this.
Liam drops his own hands over Louis’s. He can’t pull him away, but under the heavy weight of Liam’s hands, at least Louis isn’t able to rub. It’s still torture because they’re both pressing down on Liam’s cock, but Liam doesn’t feel like he’s going to cream his trousers in the middle of an interview, so. That’s something.
Finally the interview ends and everyone stands. Liam pulls his t-shirt down as far as it can go, which is rather less far than he’d like it to be, but hopefully still good enough to cover the worst of the bulge. From the little smile Louis gives him after glancing pointedly downward, maybe it’s not even managing to do that.
Liam starts taking off with the rest of the group and jumps when Louis catches his elbow and tries to lead him into the toilets instead.
“What are you doing?” Liam snaps, skittering away from Louis’s grabbing hands.
“Finishing what I started,” Louis says and he sounds genuinely affronted, like he can’t even imagine why Liam would be asking the question.
“No,” Liam says, jogging away before Louis can get near him. He looks over his shoulder and there’s this brief moment where he knows that he could stop, wrestle it out long enough to make it look like he’d put up a good fight before letting Louis win. He could have Louis’s hand on his dick and Louis would get him off. Liam can feel himself getting even harder just thinking about it, his cock kicking wetly in his pants.
He drops his head and keeps running before his dick can convince his brain that staying still is actually the better idea.
Louis lets him go.
He finds Harry in the green room a few hours before the concert. Everyone else is off running amuck, so the dressing room is actually the quietest place to be. Liam’s surprised to walk in on Harry, and Harry seems even more surprised to be walked in on by Liam, judging from the hand he has stuffed down the front of his jeans.
“Whoops,” Liam says. “Sorry!” Then, “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Playing cards,” Harry says slowly, but there’s a little quiver in the back of his voice. He’s pulled his hand out, but it’s still resting on his lap, palm pressed flat to the bulge that Liam can make out, even from the other side of the room.
“Harry,” Liam says, folding his arms. “You can’t just give up. We all have to stick this out. Someone has to beat Louis.”
“You stick it out,” Harry says. His fingers twitch in his lap.
“We all have to stay in as long as possible. Better odds.” Liam gives him a very earnest and inspiring head nod. He can tell it’s inspiring, because Harry’s frown deepens.
And, okay. He’s not going to admit it to Harry, but really he just wants to make sure that it doesn’t come down to only him and Louis. As it is, Louis’s attention is somewhat divided. Liam saw him groping Harry when they were changing after the show last night, and there was quite a commotion this morning when he tried to climb into Zayn’s bunk. At least with other people to distract him, Louis hasn’t turned his full attention to Liam.
Liam really wants to win this. He knows he can. He just needs Louis distracted.
“Come on,” Liam says encouragingly, walking over and pulling Harry up by the wrist. “Let’s find you something to eat.”
“I just had that hand down my pants,” Harry says as Liam leads him over to the spread.
Liam almost falters, but it’s too late for that now.
“Here, eat a banana,” he says, grabbing at the nearest piece of fruit and shoving it at Harry. “Wait, no,” he catches himself at the last moment and snatches the fruit back. “Do not eat a banana. Have some grapes.”
The grapes were a better idea, but it turns out that getting Harry to sprawl on the couch, his cock still visibly hard in his jeans while he puts things in his mouth, was not Liam’s strongest suggestion.
He’s still going to win this.
Liam spends all morning at the gym, even though his back is still killing him from earlier in the week, and once he’s showered and back on his bus, he regrets the entire series of events that have led him to this place: hiding out in the back lounge, terrified that Louis is going to walk in. It’s not that he’s having trouble with the bet, because he’s not. It’s just that Louis’s constant grabbing at his dick has him thinking constantly about his dick, and his dick keeps throbbing angrily back at him. His entire body aches from overuse and he’s somehow simultaneously tired and strung out, and just. Bah. Cranky.
He’s worked himself into quite a sulk and he just wants to be alone to stew in the uncomfortable prison of his body.
“Sorry,” Zayn says, backing away immediately under the force of Liam’s glare when he opens the door to the back lounge where Liam’s sat rewatching the last Batman movie.
“I thought you were Louis,” Liam says. He tries to soften the glare off his face. It’s not Zayn’s fault.
“I’ll go,” Zayn says, but Liam feels guilty so he says, “No, it’s okay. You want to watch with me?”
Zayn comes over and sits at the far end of the couch, because Zayn is brilliant and understands about boundaries. Liam has four favorite members of the band, but Zayn is definitely one of them.
He settles in and feels himself start to relax. Or, he would relax except that his back has start screaming at him, this thin line of agony down his left side that radiates up the base of his neck. Batman is currently waiting for his spine to regrow, which is totally sick, but it’s not helping take Liam’s mind off his own aching back.
Shifting carefully, he reaches around and tries to rub into the line of pain, huffing when he’s not able to reach.
“You alright, mate?” Zayn asks.
“Messed up my back a bit,” Liam says.
“You’ve been pushing really hard,” says Zayn.
“I try,” Liam says, sounding a little sadder than he means to. It’s just that he does try and it’s not fair that it still always feels so hard. It turns out that not wanking makes him extra mopey, which is a bit of an unfortunate discovery.
“Aww, babes,” Zayn says, scooting across the couch and squeezing Liam’s shoulder.
When Liam doesn’t cringe away, he reaches his other hand around so that he can rub at both Liam’s shoulders, draped behind Liam. Zayn’s hands are firm, kneading carefully and it feels so good that Liam shivers a little.
“You want a backrub?” Zayn asks after a long stretch of silence.
Liam realizes that both of his eyes are closed, his head dropped forward in a slump even as he presses his shoulder back into Zayn’s touch. He lifts his head and blinks. Isn’t Zayn already giving him a backrub?
“Like, properly,” Zayn says after Liam gives him confused eyebrows. Zayn always understands Liam’s eyebrows. He’s like a genius. He’s like Alfred. Liam’s like Batman, but just during the bits when he’s broken and useless.
“I could get on the floor?” Liam asks.
“Just lie down,” Zayn says, dropping off the side of the couch to make room for Liam to stretch out on his front.
Zayn reaches for him again, but this time he can sweep his hands all the way down the stretch of Liam’s back and it’s so, so good. Liam cannot even believe how good it feels. Maybe Zayn is Batman.
“Hey,” Zayn says quietly, like he’s noticed that Liam’s eyes have slipped closed again. “I’m going to sit on you, okay? I can’t reach like this.”
‘Yeah,” Liam says, marveling a little at how thick and slow his voice sounds, like it’s not even his voice any more.
Zayn settles carefully over him, but he’s light as anything and Liam can hardly feel him. It’s better like this, though. Zayn is able to put more pressure into the slow rub of his palms up and down Liam’s back and it draws up this low ache in the sore muscles that’s so good Liam can feel his toes curl. He’s hard, dick pushed into the plush cushions with each careful sweep of Zayn’s hands, but Liam’s on his front, so Zayn won’t know. He’ll have to figure out something when it’s time to stand again, but for now it’s okay.
Zayn digs his thumbs in on either side of Liam’s spine and starts working in tight circles before fanning out. He finds the knot that hurts the worst and presses into it with strong fingers, pulling the low grade ache into a sharp spread that grows and grows until finally it eases back again, and Liam groans into the pillow under his head because he doesn’t have any other way of saying what a relief it is.
“It was there, right?” Zayn says from very far away.
“Yeah,” Liam mumbles, feeling his shoulders flex reflexively under Zayn’s knowing touch.
Everything he does feels good now that the knot is gone and Liam keeps shivering under Zayn’s fingertips. He doesn’t even know what his body is doing because he can’t make his brain work right now. Zayn must be sitting on his arse, because Liam can finally feel his weight, the grounding press of Zayn bearing him down against the cushions. He likes how steady Zayn feels, even as it seems like his own head is going to fly away. He arches, moves into Zayn’s hands, rubbing back against him, letting Zayn rock him forward.
His entire body feels like it’s melting into honey, so slow and sweet, easy under the rhythm of Zayn working him over. He’s making nonsense noises into the couch, and Zayn keeps saying these quiet, soothing things. For this long moment, everything is perfect: the low, steady pleasure finally sparks into something real that has him shaking apart. His hips jerk wildly, even as Zayn’s weight holds him down, and Liam moans softly as he comes in slow steady pulses that crest so gently.
He gasps and then freezes, suddenly realizing what happened. His whole body stills as a wave of shame swallows him up.
Zayn says, “Umm,” and stops moving his hands.
“Oh, fuck,” Liam says. He twists away, rolling out from under Zayn and flinging himself off the couch. He lands on the floor on his arse, and brings his knees up to his chest, curling in on his treacherous dick.
“Umm,” Zayn says again, his arms crossed over his chest. He bites down hard on his lower lip.
“Oh my god,” Liam says, so embarrassed he thinks his head might burst into flames. “I can’t believe that happened.”
“It’s okay,” Zayn says. He’s looking at Liam so intently that Liam can’t stand it because he feels like he might get hard again. Even after everything.
“I’m sorry,” Liam says, and flees to his bunk.
The only plus side to this whole disaster is that now he’s free to wank off again. He sticks his hand down his jeans and starts to pull himself off, hand slicked with the mess from where he creamed himself.
With Liam out, Louis is almost unbearable. Niall loves it. He probably should be enjoying this a little less unabashedly, but he can’t help himself. Louis is cranky and sharp, constantly scheming, pestering Niall nonstop during their downtime and it’s fun. The money’s just for charity so Niall isn’t too worried about keeping it fair, and anyone could have asked him for help, it’s just that Louis thought to do it first.
But even though Niall’s having a blast, he still thinks this might be pushing it too far.
“I’m not sure that it would work,” Niall says, carefully.
“Of course it would work,” Louis says.
“It’s not really... in the intent of the bet.”
“I came up with this bloody bet, I can say what’s in the intent.”
“But hiring a prostitute to seduce Zayn? ‘s a bit dire.”
“Desperate times,” Louis says grimly.
“I just think he might be put out.”
“God, Niall,” Louis gripes. “Why don’t you just marry him already?”
Niall shrugs. Not really, but there could certainly be worse things than being married to Zayn. He always smells really good and he gives better hugs than anyone else in the world.
“Actually,” Louis says. He gives him a long, considering look. Niall’s gut twists anxiously and he wonders what’s wrong with himself that he’s still dying to hear what Louis has come up with now.
“Maybe we don’t need to hire someone. You and Zayn get along pretty well.”
“Zayn’s great,” Niall agrees.
“You’re great, too,” Niall says quickly.
“Well, yes, of course. But try to stay focused. You can get Zayn out. And a strong breeze in the right direction will get Harry out and then I will win!”
“How am I supposed to get Zayn out?” Niall asks. He’s glad that Louis isn’t asking him to go after Harry, because he does feel a bit sorry for the lad.
“Catch him after one of his naps,” Louis says immediately. “When he’s all sleepy and helpless. He probably won’t be wearing a shirt.”
“You’ve been thinking about this a lot,” Niall notes.
“Someone has to come up with a plan.”
“And then what?” Niall asks.
“Have you ever sucked off a bloke?” Louis asks.
“Yeah,” Niall says.
“Did you like it?”
“Sure,” Niall says. He doesn’t want to make this awkward, especially with how intently Louis is now staring at his mouth, but he’s sucked off rather a lot of blokes. On the long list of Niall’s favorite things to do, having a few pints and exchanging sloppy blowies with mates is pretty high up there. Niall likes it when it’s casual and messy and a little rough because they’re both too drunk to hold back. This’s probably not something that he should mention to Louis right now.
“Would you blow Zayn?”
“Yeah,” Niall says. They’ve been friends for long enough for Louis to know better than to ask a question if he didn’t want to get the truth.
“You want to suck Zayn off,” Louis repeats, staring at Niall until Niall can feel his cheeks start to heat. He’s been able to wank but it’s still been eons since he’s got off with someone else. He does want it.
“Could do,” Niall says, steady as he can under the weight of Louis’s stare.
“Would you let him come in your mouth?”
“Okay,” Niall says, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth because he can almost taste it now.
“On your face?”
“I’m not bothered,” Niall says.
“You’d love it,” Louis says, sharp and focused. Niall should have known better than to let Louis smell blood, but he’s not so much afraid of Louis’s bite. Especially when he’s licking his lips like that.
Niall licks his own lips before he catches himself and then he quickly closes his mouth and swallows.
“You want it even more than he does,” Louis says. They have no way of knowing how much Zayn wants it but Niall nods anyway.
Louis takes a step closer without breaking eye contact, then another until they’re standing right in front of each other, an arm's reach away.
“Lou,” Niall whispers. Louis’s mouth is open and his lips are wet. He’s hunched in on himself enough that Niall has to slouch forward so that they’re face to face, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss, but he doesn’t close the remaining distance. “Tell me if you want me to suck you off.”
“You want to suck me off,” Louis murmurs, and Niall nods, straining forward. Louis’s so close, they’re so close.
“Whatever you want,” Niall says, his head spinning with how much he wants Louis to say yes. Louis, who is always one of Niall’s very favorite people, but is almost painfully irresistible like this, coiled and on the cusp of breaking, like maybe there’s a chance he’ll finally let Niall have what he wants.
Louis lets out this loud shaky breath while Niall holds his own, scared to move a muscle in case it sways Louis in the opposite direction.
Louis sucks in a sharp breath and then he surges forward. They kiss hard enough that it hurts, it hurts, it’s so good, oh god, please don’t stop.
Niall clings to Louis’s shoulders, his hips jerking forward to rub up against Louis, his cock absolutely aching where it’s trapped in his jeans. He has to lock his legs because he feels like his knees are made of jelly, his head spinning, breath coming out in high, desperate gasps. Louis bites at his lower lip until it stings, licks over it with his soft tongue, fucks Niall’s mouth. They’re both making tiny noises on top of the wet sounds of the kiss, little aborted moans, like neither of them can keep silent for how good it is. And it is: it’s so, so good.
“Fuck,” Louis says suddenly, spinning away.
He lifts his hand and bites hard on the inside of his wrist, his face all screwed up, cheeks flushed, shoulders heaving.
Niall doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his entire life, and he can’t even imagine what Louis must be feeling, but somehow Louis sucks in one shaky breath, then another until finally he’s able to pull his hand away. He rubs his palms over his cheeks like he’s trying to wipe the flush away, then combs at his fringe until it starts to resemble a quiff again.
It’s shockingly intimate to watch him put himself back together again, and when he turns back around to face Niall, looking a good approximation of calm, Niall feels more out of control than ever.
“You can jerk yourself off,” Louis says, his tone just on the right side of disinterested even though his voice is as raspy as Niall’s ever heard it. “I’ll watch.”
“What?” Niall says. It feels like everything inside of his skull has been replaced with static.
“Quickly,” Louis snaps. “Get yourself off fast, now. Pull your cock out.”
“Oh, god.” Niall pops the button on his jeans but doesn’t bother with the zip, just pushes everything down until he can get his cock in hand. He almost doubles over at the first touch, because fuck is he ever close, but also because it’s fucking weird to be touching himself when every single part of him is primed for Louis Louis Louis.
“I forgot you were left-handed,” Louis says and he sounds strangled. “Go faster. Fuck, that’s weird. Fuck.” He bites at his thumb this time, tucking it into the side of his mouth and setting his molars into the skin. He looks a bit thoughtful, with the rest of his fist tucked by his chin, but he also looks like he’s snarling.
Niall gasps and gives a hard tug on his cock and then when Louis grits out, “Come on, do it,” he does. He comes so hard that he almost falls to the floor, the bottoms of his feet cramping as he curls his toes and tries to keep his balance. Some of the spunk has landed down the front of his trousers and the rest is probably on the floor. He might have wailed a little bit, just at the end. Hopefully Louis didn’t notice.
Niall wipes his hand off on his trousers (those are going to need a wash) and tucks himself back into his pants. He feels bare standing in front of Louis, even now that he’s fully clothed. Bare in the dirty kind of way. The best kind of way.
“Okay,” Louis says, clipped. He pulls his hand away from his mouth and wipes it off on his trackies, mirroring Niall’s movement. There’s a spot of precome wetting the front of his trousers and Niall wants to lick it.
“So, I’ll just. Get on that then.”
“What?” Louis asks. “Oh, right. The plan. Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t -- I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Niall snorts. He feels giggly, but that’s not his fault, since he just came his brains out.
“I’ve got the gist,” Niall says. “Make Zayn come.”
“Or Harry,” Louis says.
“Aww, I can’t do that to Harry. He’s suffering.”
“I thought you wanted to help,” Louis huffs.
“I will,” Niall says, smiling reassuringly. It’s not like it would be a hardship to get Zayn off if he happened to, like, trip and fall in the direction of Zayn’s dick or whatever. That’s just lucky timing.
“I’m going to win this,” Louis says. He rubs his palm over his belly and then pulls his shoulders back, standing up tall. His feet are spread apart. Niall doesn't know how he looks so solid when Niall feels like he’s three seconds away from sliding onto the floor. Everything about Louis looks deadly, except for the shaking hand he has pressed to the base of his neck.
“Yeah,” Niall says, but then there’s not much that Louis could say right now that Niall wouldn’t agree to.
Niall finds Zayn sitting at the table, his chin on his hand as he stares out the window, empty cup of tea resting in front of him. He looks calm, all tucked away in his own space, and it’s not a feeling that Niall can relate to, but he loves seeing it on Zayn.
“You been here for a while then?” Niall asks. Ever since lunch, maybe, which was at least an hour ago. All of them sat around and Niall watched as Harry ate a banana while making steady eye contact with Zayn. Clearly Louis has him on it as well. He isn’t sure what objective Louis gave Harry, but Harry just got steadily more flushed and eventually had to wobble away from the table, while Zayn fixed his hair in the reflection of the bus window and picked idly at his hangnail.
“Just having a bit of a think,” Zayn says.
“About what?” Niall asks.
“Not too sure, if I’m honest,” Zayn says, and Niall laughs, sitting down on the bench beside him.
“Still staying strong?” Niall asks.
Zayn nods, smiling a bit with just one side of his mouth.
“I don’t know how you’re doing it, mate,” Niall says. “You still not feeling it at all?”
“Guess not,” Zayn says in that hazy way he has that makes Niall want to lie down with him somewhere dark and quiet.
Niall runs his hand down the front of his chest to fix the neckline of his vest and carefully ignores the tight bump of his nipple as he skims over it with his palm.
“Louis’s pretty chuffed you got Liam out,” he says, when Zayn doesn’t offer anything else.
Zayn chews on the side of his thumb and drops his gaze with one long sweep of his eyelashes. Three years later and Niall’s still not sure if he does shite like that on purpose. Probably.
“I didn’t mean to,” Zayn says. “That was a bit of an accident.”
“You’re too hot for your own good,” Niall says. He keeps his voice a little gruff, because he’s learned that’s the best way to give compliments: play it cool like it’s just blokes.
Zayn smiles, stays silent. He doesn’t move when Niall leans in closer so that their thighs are pressed close together. Niall twists in his seat so that he can press his hand to the back of Zayn’s neck, thumb coming up to rest at Zayn’s hairline. Zayn tilts his head a little, opening himself up to Niall’s touch.
“Wanna make out?” Niall asks, butting his forehead gently up against Zayn’s cheek.
“Did Louis tell you to do this?” Zayn asks.
“No,” Niall says, truthfully. Louis said to suck him off; he never said anything about kissing.
“I’m not bothered either way,” Zayn says. “He needs all the help he can get.”
“But you don’t?” Niall asks.
“You all keep winding yourselves up. It’s not as hard as you make it seem.”
“Hard,” Niall says, bopping at Zayn’s arm with his elbow.
“I’ve noticed,” Zayn says darkly.
“You, too, though,” Niall says, jerking his chin down at Zayn’s crotch. The thick line of his cock is tenting up the front of his jeans. Niall wants to sit on it but he knows better than to just go for it with Zayn. Zayn likes to be courted a little.
“‘s been a while,” Zayn acknowledges.
“Can I kiss you, then?” Niall asks.
Zayn smiles again, looks up at him from under the impossible sweep of his eyelashes. The line of his jaw is rough from three days of stubble and Niall can feel the phantom tingle on the insides of his thighs but that’s just wishful thinking. Fuck, Zayn could rub him raw. But that’s not -- he just wants a kiss, he’d be happy just to get a kiss.
“You going to try to get me off?” Zayn asks.
“Thanks, mate, but I’m not that good. No one ever creamed themselves just kissing me.”
“Okay,” Zayn says, and then he touches the tip of his finger to the center of his cheek.
Niall blinks and Zayn’s mouth quirks slightly, just a hint of movement, but Niall gets it. He leans in and presses his lips to Zayn’s cheek, a quick peck before he sits back again.
Zayn nods and then touches the same finger to his other cheek.
Niall has to twist up to reach, because Zayn’s looking straight ahead. He braces himself on the back of the seat as he curves around for another brief peck.
This time, Zayn lifts his hand and leaves it dangling in the air until Niall catches his palm and presses a slower kiss to the back of Zayn’s hand. Zayn’s hand is cool and Niall drops his head to press his burning cheek against it before pulling away again. He would really like to drop his head into Zayn’s lap, but he sits back in his seat instead.
“You can tell Louis you got your kiss,” Zayn says. It’s hard to tell from the steady quiet of his voice, but his eyes look happy so Niall doesn’t think he’s too put out.
“Okay,” Niall says.
Zayn starts to push himself off the chair, but just before standing, he reaches up and brushes the tip of his finger against Niall’s bottom lip, a tiny flash of contact before it’s gone. He follows it with an even quicker kiss, catching Niall’s mouth hard enough that he can feel the aftershock twisting all the way down his spine even though Zayn is already gone. Niall licks his lips and tries to catch back the breath Zayn stole away.
Harry comes wandering in not long afterward. He grabs an apple off the counter and sits down beside Niall.
Niall leans over and helps himself to a bite. It’s a good apple and juice sprays when he sinks his teeth in, dripping down the side of Harry’s hand, so he licks that off as well.
Harry blinks slowly at him, and Niall gives him a reassuring pat on the cheek.
“Were you just snogging Zayn?” Harry asks. “You’re all pink.”
“Tried to,” Niall says.
“Snogging Zayn is the best,” Harry says and then bites into his apple wistfully.
Niall knew that Zayn and Harry pulled girls together sometimes, but he didn’t know that they’d also pulled each other. If he’d known, he certainly would have demanded that they let him watch.
“I bet,” Niall says. He licks Harry’s hand again, because there’s more juice running in between his fingers.
“I think I’m going to forfeit, too,” Harry says. “You had the right idea.”
“Don’t do that,” Niall says, pushing the tip of his nose into Harry’s ear. “You’re doing so well.”
“What are orgasms like?” Harry asks. “I can’t even remember.”
“Terrible,” Niall says. “Like a strong sneeze. You’re not missing out.”
“Liar,” Harry says. He lifts his legs and swings them over Niall’s thighs so he’s half-sitting on Niall’s lap. Niall hooks his hand around Harry’s knee to keep him in place.
“Swear,” he says.
“Okay,” Harry murmurs.
Niall strokes his legs while Harry chews on the apple.
“We have to end this,” Louis hisses furiously as he flings open the curtains of Niall’s bunk.
“What’s that?” Niall asks, and then tries to cough some of the sleep out of his throat. There’s daylight illuminating Louis’s face now that he’s got the curtain open, but it feels like it’s still early as fuck.
“This can’t go on,” Louis says.
“Let’s go make a cup of tea,” Niall says, easing Louis’s fingers out of the death grip they have on the edge of Louis’s curtain and shooing him away until there’s room for Niall to jump out of his bunk.
Louis doesn’t like the way any of the rest of them make tea, so he the one who goes about putting on the kettle and pulling out mugs for them, while Niall sits sleepily on the counter, skillfully ignoring the massive tent pushing out the front of Louis’s pyjama bottoms. Well, he’s not so much ignoring it as he is staring at it. He would really like this stupid contest to be over because no one is letting Niall suck on his cock, and Niall’s been wanting to for days now. Talk about an exercise in endurance.
“Were you having a good dream?” Niall asks as Louis pulls out two teabags.
Louis pauses and then looks up at Niall with the most tragic, disgruntled face that Niall has ever seen. Especially given that Louis also looks like he’s gagging for it.
“There,” Louis says, thrusting a steaming mug at Niall. He takes his own mug and storms off to the back lounge, so Niall follows after him.
Except that Zayn’s already back there, passed out in front of the telly in tight black boxer briefs and a white t-shirt with a stretched out collar.
Niall thinks, oh, shite, and watches while Louis turns steadily purple.
“This is ridiculous,” Louis rages while Zayn slowly blinks himself awake, rubbing at his eyes and finally sitting up on the couch. “You can’t just -- people have to be able to -- I’m trying to have my tea!”
Zayn flaps his hand and stands up slowly.
“All yours, bro,” he says, patting Louis on the hip absently as he tries to pass around him on the way back to the bunks.
Niall winces, but the damage has already been done.
“You’re not even bothered,” Louis shouts, his hands flying around in the air.
“What’s that?” Zayn asks, rubbing one palm over his shoulder and squinting.
“You’re seriously not bothered,” Louis repeats. “How is that possible. Are you cheating? Fuck, are you --” He trails off, snapping his mouth shut and exhaling sharply through his nose. He appears to be rebuffed under the silent weight of Zayn’s stare, and of course he is. Niall is squirming just from what he can see of it across the room.
Zayn takes a step forward, then another one, crowding up into Louis’s space and then all the rest of the way until he’s right there, pressed up against him. Louis’s mouth drops open as he throws his head back, jerking against the steady grind of Zayn’s hips. Zayn’s got a thigh between his legs, the two of them locked together, even as Louis’s hands hang in tight fists at his sides. Zayn’s palm flattens to Louis’s lower back and he rocks forward and up, and, oh. Niall pushes his hand over his mouth because he’s worried he’s going to make a noise from how hard he’s gotten just from watching. He doesn’t know how Louis is just standing there.
“Who says I’m not bothered,” Zayn says, and then he pulses forward in this dirty grind that has Niall chewing on the side of his tongue. He circles his hips one last time, slow and raw and mean, and then he pulls back and walks away, leaving Louis standing in the center of the room. His head slumps forward like all the strings have been cut.
“That’s okay,” Niall says quickly. He reaches out to give Louis a reassuring shoulder squeeze, but Louis is already storming off.
Harry’s walking down the narrow aisle as Louis stomps away, and even in his rage, Louis pauses for half a moment to twist Harry’s nipple as he passes by.
“What happened?” Harry asks, coming up to stand beside Niall. “Did someone else get out? Are we done now? Can I go wank?”
“No,” Niall says, absently, as he stares at Louis’s retreating back.
Harry always thought that he was a good person, but he would make a deal with the devil right now if it meant that he could have five minutes of privacy.
Sure it would be nice if someone beat Louis -- Zayn, specifically. It would be nice if Zayn beat Louis. Harry doesn’t need to be involved in this anymore. But Liam keeps giving him these incredibly dull pep talks that somehow still don’t manage to kill Harry’s boner.
He doesn’t know what kinds of things the devil might want from him, but he would definitely yell at some puppies. Kick some slugs. Bite Liam’s hand off and shove it up his ass.
“So just remember,” Liam concludes. “Think about the children.”
“Zayn will take Louis out,” Harry says. “You don’t need me.”
“That’s exactly my point,” Liam says. “Honestly, Harry, have you not been listening to me at all?”
“Umm,” Harry says.
“You need to make sure Zayn doesn’t win. He’s a menace, and he must be stopped.”
“You mean Louis?”
“Zayn,” Liam repeats.
“Zayn’s just been sleeping on things a lot. This morning Louis tripped Niall into my lap and yelled for him to start sucking.”
There was a moment where Harry seriously considered just letting him have at it, but Paul was sitting right beside him. Which isn’t actually enough of a deterrent in and of itself, but Paul said that if any of them get naked in front of him again he’s going to send a picture to their mums. And he seemed serious about that, so reluctantly Harry had to dump Niall on the floor. He did roll himself down there as well and then he and Niall wrestled for a little while until Harry started grinding against Niall’s thigh and Niall said, “None of that, mate. You just stick it out a little longer.”
Harry wants to stick it in. He doesn’t understand what terrible thing he did to have so many people trying to help him all the time.
Liam crosses his arms and says, “Zayn’s the one that got me out. You have to enact my revenge.”
“Exact your revenge.”
“No, enact. I need you to act it out for me. I need you to take Zayn down.”
“I just have to be honest,” Harry says. “I think there’s more of a chance that I’ll grow wings.”
“As long as you don’t have an orgasm,” Liam says, nodding firmly.
Harry makes agreeable noises and backs away quietly. It’s alright. It’s a big venue. There have to be plenty of places where he can get a moment’s privacy.
He finds Lou sitting in the hallway, just a few metres down from what appears promisingly to be a single person toilet.
“Listen,” Harry says, cupping Lou’s shoulder with one hand to make sure she’s looking at him and not her phone. “I just need you to stand here for three minutes and make sure no one comes in, okay?”
The last time he tried to lock himself in a toilet, Liam called building security to come unlock the door. But Lou could probably distract Liam.
“What’s that?” Lou asks.
“I just need like three minutes of privacy, can you please just make sure no one comes in? Two minutes even. I just need, like, literally a few moments of privacy and then I will never ask you for anything else as long as I live.”
“I highly doubt that,” Lou says. “Just three nights ago you made me stay up all night with you to cut your t-shirts into headbands.”
“That was professional,” Harry says. “I need those to wear on stage. This is a personal favor.”
“Yesterday you stole Lux from me for like four hours.”
“That was babysitting!”
“That was baby-stealing, you broody bastard.”
“It’s not a favour if everyone leaves happy.”
“What about last week, when you got naked in a hot tub with my husband?”
“What did I just say?”
“He was all frisky afterwards.”
“As I said, it’s not a favour if--”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lou says.
“So you’ll watch the door for me?”
“What are you up to now, Styles?”
“Two minutes! Just for two minutes!”
“Is this about that bet you lads have going on?”
“I just said it wasn’t about the bet,” Harry says, giving her his most becoming frown.
Lou rolls her eyes. “You want to go in there to wank off, you randy bastard.”
“So you’ll watch the door?”
“Over my dead body. You’re not losing on my watch.”
“What? Why not?”
“We’ve got £300 on riding on this.”
“You bet on me?”
“Why did you bet on me? No one bet on me.”
“To be fair, I told Tom to put the money on Liam, but he felt bad when he saw that the odds were seven million to one against you.”
“There weren’t odds.”
“There were,” Lou says. “I think Paul just made them up, but there were numbers for all of you. And then Liam went and got himself out, so that was alright after all, wasn’t it?”
“I will give you whatever seven million to one times £300 is if you will just watch the door for one minute.”
“That’s not even how betting works,” Lou says. “No wonder you lost all that money in Australia.”
“Lou,” Harry whines.
“Nope,” she says. She grabs his arm and starts leading him down the hall. “Come on, you. Back to your band.”
Harry sighs and drags his feet pointedly as he follows after her.
She takes him back to Liam.
“Got to keep a better eye on this one, Daddy,” she says, pushing Harry forward.
“Harry,” Liam says. “We just talked about this.”
Lou laughs and leaves them to it.
“Don’t you want to beat Zayn?” Liam asks.
“It’s like, I do? But I want to have an orgasm even more.”
“But an orgasm is fleeting and winning is forever.”
“I could have more than one orgasm,” Harry says, with a look he hopes Liam realizes is meant to convey what a donut he’s being. Who cares about winning for principle when there are actual orgasms to be had?
But maybe he’s not such a donut, because then Liam says, “I will give you a blowjob if you take Zayn down.”
“What?” Harry says. “Really?”
“Really, though? Really really?”
“Really,” Liam says. “Really really. Oh my god, that’s not even a word any more. Yes, I’ll give you a blowjob.”
Harry claps once, excitedly. Harry has been trying to get a blowjob from Liam for basically the entire time that Liam has had that mouth on that face.
And that’s enough motivation to power him through the rest of the day. Right up until the point when Paul asks, “You going to sleep on the bus tonight?”
“I’ll go in the hotel,” Harry says as casually as he can manage. “Take a swim.”
He really does go to the pool even though they have to open it up special for him this late at night and there are half a dozen hotel employees watching him swim slow laps. It feels good to be in the water and by the time he's ready to head back to the room, he finally feels calm. He thinks maybe he can hold off, but as soon as he’s in the elevator, he realizes: no. No, he can’t hold off.
He’ll just have to find another way to get that blowjob from Liam.
Except that when he opens the door to the hotel room, Zayn is lying on the bed.
“Hi,” Harry says. “You good?”
“Yeah,” says Zayn. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Harry says. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” Zayn says. “Except Louis kicked me off the bus.”
“What were you doing this time?”
“Trying to sketch,” Zayn says. “Should have know better than to try to do that in public, I guess.”
“Obviously,” says Harry. “How inconsiderate.”
They don’t normally sleep in the hotels because it vastly increases their chances of being mobbed and isn’t worth the hassle. Except when one of them wants some privacy. Which was literally Harry’s entire objective for tonight. Zayn is definitely one of Harry’s four least favorite bandmates right now.
He sighs as quietly as he can and starts shucking off his wet trunks. He uses up three of the little white towels drying his hair until it’s a fluffy mess, and then he grabs an apple from the bowl sitting on top of the mini bar and sits on the bed beside Zayn.
“You sleeping here?”
“Nah,” Zayn says. “Just going to give him a chance to cool off.”
“You can,” Harry says, because he can’t help himself. Even though all the rest of his brain is screaming at him to just get Zayn out of here, it’s Zayn and Harry doesn’t want to be rude.
“You alright?” Zayn asks, kicking out until he can rest the sole of his foot against Harry’s thigh.
“Yeah, good,” Harry says. “You alright?”
“Yeah, mate,” Zayn says.
He wiggles his toes against the edge of the towel Harry has wrapped around his waist. Harry’s not wearing anything under the towel. The terry cloth is kind of floating over the heat of his erection, and he’s not sure if Zayn has noticed yet or not. The towel’s bunched up enough that maybe it’s not totally obvious. Maybe it is, though. It wouldn’t be the first time Zayn has seen Harry with a boner.
“Heard you were having some trouble,” Zayn says, stilling his toes. His foot is pressed to the bare skin of Harry’s thigh.
“It was a bit of a weak moment,” Harry says. He smiles, sheepishly, and shrugs. When he looks over at Zayn, Zayn’s got one eyebrow quirked.
“So you don’t want out of the game?” Zayn asks.
“No,” Harry says. “I definitely want out of the game. I just probably am going to stop begging my friends to let me masturbate in public. Not quite the legacy I was hoping to leave on this tour.”
He shifts and the towel slides against his cock with this tiny hint of friction. He’s really gone ‘round the bend if just the touch of fabric is enough to get him going, but it is. It really is. He flexes his ankles, stretching out his toes, and takes what he means to be a steadying breath, but then he makes the mistake of glancing over at Zayn.
“If you really want out,” Zayn says, looking steadily at Harry, “I’m not going to stop you.”
Harry sucks in a breath and then another one, his heart pounding so hard that it feels like it’s rattling his chest.
“Go on then,” Zayn says, “pull it out. Give us a show.”
Harry scrubs his hand over his cheeks and tries to rub away the sweat that’s gathering at his hairline. Nothing is happening but his entire body has gone tight with this sloshy wave of desire.
“You got Liam out on purpose,” Harry says slowly.
“Hm?” Zayn says absently. He does that intentionally. He pretends like he’s not really listening, but Harry knows he listens better than anyone else.
“This is a trap,” Harry realizes. In fairness to how slowly his brain is working, Zayn’s toes are just centimetres from Harry’s dick.
“It’s not a trap if you’re getting what you want,” Zayn says. He uses the bottom of his foot to push at the hem of the towel and then slides his foot a little higher up.
Harry holds still. Zayn’s toes are pressed against the bare stretch of his thigh. Harry’s focus narrows to that small point of pressure. He lifts his hand and cups Zayn’s ankle.
“What about what you want?” Harry asks, sweeping his thumb in a slow circle around the bump of Zayn’s ankle bone.
Zayn’s toes curl. That’s why Harry likes being naked all the time. It’s so easy to read bare skin.
“Harry,” Zayn says warningly as Harry skims his hand up Zayn’s bare thigh and lingers at the point where his shorts start. It’s easy to reach with the way Zayn has his leg stretched almost into Harry’s lap. He slides his fingers under the hem and keeps pushing upward, his hand on Zayn’s thigh now, until Zayn finally stops him with a hand to Harry’s wrist.
“Truce,” Zayn says, but Harry’s already burning for it. His competitive streak is buried deep, but it’s still there. Zayn got Liam out on purpose. He’s trying to take Harry’s blowjob away. He must be stopped.
“You want my mouth instead?” Harry asks, bending forward and crawling onto the bed. The towel is moments away from sliding off of his waist, but that’s alright. This will probably work even better if he’s naked.
He drops his head and nuzzles at Zayn’s erection, covered by the soft, thick fabric of his shorts. This close, he can smell Zayn, and it makes his mouth water.
“I remember how much you liked this,” Harry says, opening his mouth to breath hotly over Zayn’s cock.
Zayn’s hand comes down like a clamp on the back of Harry’s neck and there’s a moment of hesitation where Harry’s not sure if he’s going to push him down or pull him up.
Finally Zayn slides his fingers into Harry’s hair and tugs him up.
He knows Harry likes having his hair pulled, too. Bastard.
“Truce,” Zayn says again, his fingers still tight in Harry’s hair. Harry nods, even though it makes the pull worse, and finally Zayn lets go.
Harry licks his lips. It turns out the only thing he likes more than winning is sex. He thought that winning meant sex, but that is a far away thing. Zayn is right here on the bed, and the last time they were together, Harry had bruises on his thighs for days.
He reaches for Zayn again, and says, “Never mind, I do want to lose.”
Zayn laughs shakily.
“Zayn,” Harry insists.
“Come on then,” Zayn says, pulling them both to the head of the bed so that they can slide under the covers.
Yes, Harry congratulates himself, but then Zayn just spoons up behind him and cuddles him down.
“Umm,” Harry says.
“We’ve got a truce,” Zayn says. “Go to sleep.”
He wraps his hand around Harry’s wrist, holding it to Harry’s chest. With Zayn’s arm wrapped around him and his own hand being held by Zayn, there’s not much Harry can do without pushing Zayn away. Even though it’s not an orgasm, it still feels really good to have Zayn close like this. Almost enough good to make him forget about how badly his cock aches. But not quite. Even with promise of a blowjob from Liam looming in the background.
He watches the clock tick down to sunrise while Zayn holds him close.
Louis finds him after the show while Harry’s still shaking from the rush of performing.
“Got you,” Louis says, catching Harry by the wrist and pulling him into an empty room.
Harry follows after him, pulling his sweaty headband away and dropping it on the floor. He shakes his hair into his face and feels little pinpricks run up the base of his spine.
“You’ve got a lot of friends,” Louis says. “A lot of people trying to help you win.”
“Niall is literally trying to help you win,” Harry points out. He’s still winded even though he also feels like he could run for miles. Adrenaline is his favorite drug.
Louis smiles, that sharp, toothy smile of his that has Harry trying to gulp in air.
“Do you even want to win?” Louis asks. “I don’t think you do. I think you’d be happy to give it up.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Harry says. He likes things that are a bit of a challenge, but only the kinds of challenges he’s good at. He’s not good at this. He’s better when his dick is involved more, not absent entirely.
“Let’s go then,” Louis says, delighted.
Harry nods and then catches himself: Liam will be so disappointed. Harry pauses. Does he really want to lose? Yes. But does he?
But does he?
“Oh, for Christ sake,” Louis says after he takes too long. He charges on Harry and kisses him, hard, with more teeth than tongue. It’s just as good as Harry remembers it being. Liam knows how hard it is to say no to Louis; he’ll understand.
“You too?” Harry gasps, throwing his head back when Louis pushes him up against a wall and slots their thighs together.
“No,” Louis says, “just focus.”
He twists his hips hard enough that Harry hears the ocean rush up in his ears.
“Oh, bugger,” Harry says, quiet because he can’t find the air to be louder. Louis stops moving and Harry whimpers before he takes over, riding Louis’s thigh.
“Like this, right?” Louis says. He licks at Harry’s neck. He must be tasting the salt of Harry’s sweat and, fuck.
“Yes, please,” Harry says, feeling his toes curl with the achy twist of pleasure that comes from being so close. He moves against Louis, rocking in to him. It’s been so long that he feels the build of orgasm spreading through his entire body, this white hot surge that’s sparking everywhere. Louis is solid and warm and his mouth is sharp and Harry’s so close that his eyes are rolling back in his head.
‘You’re going to lose,” Louis says. “Is it worth £10,000 to rub off on my thigh?”
“Y-es,” Harry chokes out. Right now it would be worth everything he’s got in all of his bank accounts to rub off on Louis’s thigh.
“Fuck, you’re shaking,” Louis says. His hips twist, riding the way Harry keeps thrusting against him, these frantic jerks of his hips that he can’t even control. Louis’s moving with him again, and it’s better but it’s making the friction come in waves where before Louis was just this constant pressure for Harry to grind against. His legs are going to give out at any moment. They would have already if he wasn’t caught between Louis and the wall.
“Please,” he babbles, clinging to Louis’s shoulders as if it was possible for them to be any closer together, “please, I want to come, Louis, oh god.”
He manages another little trembling thrust forward before Louis goes tense, gripping Harry’s hips hard enough that it hurts. There’s a long moment while Louis jerks wildly before he goes suddenly still and then steps away, which, no, that is the opposite of what Harry wanted. He was just confused because it was a new pain, but he was still going to come, even with Louis’s fingers clamped down tight enough to bruise. Now he’s gone, and, “No,” Harry says, reaching for him.
“Fuck,” Louis says. He’s got his palm pressed flat to the flies of his jeans and he leaves his head dropped for a long moment before finally lifting his face.
“Did you just come?” Harry asks even though it’s obvious from the wash of red down Louis’s cheeks and the slowly darkening spot down the front of his trousers.
Louis nods, his mouth still dropped open in a gasp.
“Okay,” Harry says. “That’s okay. Shit, I have to --” He presses his own hand down the front of his jeans.
He needs literally another ten seconds and then he’ll come too but suddenly there’s a banging at the door. Harry doesn’t care, but Louis startles, and then Liam’s charging in and shouting, “Harry, no!”
Niall follows closely behind them, then Zayn.
This can’t be happening.
“What just happened?” Liam asks, glaring back and forth between them. “Louis, were you bothering Harry again?”
“I think Louis’s the one bothered,” Zayn says, nodding at the wet spot on the front of Louis’s jeans.
“Harry,” Liam says, beaming. “Nicely done.”
“Yeah, sure,” Harry says. “Now can I please have a couple minutes to myself to celebrate my victory? A couple of minutes to myself with just Liam in the room, please.”
“Not until you get Zayn out,” Liam says, cheerily. “You’re almost there, mate.”
“No,” Harry says, panicked. “I got Louis out.”
“Zayn,” Liam reminds him.
“I’m right here,” Zayn says mildly.
“You know what you did,” Liam says with a little glare. He keeps it up for about four seconds but softens when Zayn tilts his head and makes a frowny face.
“You’re so close now,” Niall says, encouragingly. He slips his hand into Harry’s when he notices Harry groping for his cock again. Harry didn’t mean to, it’s just. He really wants to touch his cock.
“Come on, then,” Liam says and he grabs for Harry’s other hand. “Let’s get you back on the bus.”
“Wait,” Harry says as he tries to shake them off.
“Here we go,” Liam says. Someone needs to stop him from going to the gym because it’s like trying to break free of steel. Even Niall’s grip is more than Harry can wiggle free from.
“Please,” Harry cries out as they start dragging him down the hall, pulling hard enough on his arms that he has to scamper along after them. “I just want to forfeit. Just let me lose.”
The game couldn’t have unfolded better if Zayn had planned it himself. Louis was the only real wild card because he’s vicious when he thinks that someone is trying to pull something on him, and it’s almost impossible to make him do something he doesn’t want to do. Zayn never would have considered just begging for it until he caved, but Harry’s a clever lad.
Harry’s a clever lad, but he’s not vicious and he will forgive almost any past indiscretion if it means he gets shagged. He doesn’t even need to forgive -- the first time they ever hooked up was after Zayn pulled the bird Harry had been going for. She ended up having to take her much-drunker friend home, so in the end Zayn didn’t actually get to take her back to the hotel room, but Harry was still narked.
And then he sucked Zayn’s dick, so.
Zayn knows he could take Harry down, but he’s less sure how to navigate Liam, who needs to stop getting his ideas about vengeance from superhero movies, and Niall, who appears to be helping Harry just out of the goodness of his heart. Every time he tries to get Harry alone, there’s Liam, barging in with a scowl, or Niall, throwing himself between the two of them.
The obvious solution is just to involve Niall as well, but he’s not sure what to do about Liam.
Who is currently stood in front of Zayn with his arms folded, staring pointedly.
Zayn sighs, and loosens the grip he had on the meaty part of Harry’s thigh. He was like three minutes away from working it into a casual grope (and another thirty seconds beyond that to bringing Harry off if the way he was already squirming and panting was any indication).
“Just watching a film,” Zayn says, lifting both hands in the air in a show of innocence.
“Let’s see some space between you two,” Liam says. He stands there stubbornly until Zayn scoots himself over a couple of feet on the sofa.
Zayn clenches his jaw and stares just past Liam’s shoulder. The trick to a really good smolder is to focus on a point far off in the distance.
It takes a good moment, but eventually Liam goes pink and storms off, shouting, “I’m sending Niall in there to supervise.”
Niall comes bounding in a few minutes later. He throws himself into the space between Zayn and Harry, parting his legs to hook each knee over one of Zayn and one of Harry’s thighs.
“How are we doing then?” Niall asks, using both hands to pat each of their stomachs simultaneously.
“Niall,” Harry says pitifully, drooping to rest his head on Niall’s shoulder.
“Stay strong, Haz,” Liam yells from the front of the bus.
“I’m fine, too,” Zayn says, huffing.
“We know you’re fine,” Liam says, jogging back to pop his head in the doorway. “I’m a little suspicious about that, if I’m honest.”
“Do you want to feel my dick?” Zayn asks, gesturing down at his crotch. “You’re being an asshat and it’s still hard. I’m not fucking cheating.”
“I’ll feel,” Niall volunteers quickly.
“Harry should feel,” Liam says, clasping his hands together.
“No, Zayn should feel Harry’s dick,” Louis says as he suddenly appears in the doorway beside Liam. He points at Harry and mouths, You’re going down.
“Umm,” Harry says.
“No dick touching,” Zayn decides. He stands, smiles sweetly at Niall, dirtily at Harry and innocently at Liam and Louis as he passes between them.
This contest would be easier if he didn’t have to pretend like he wasn’t in it to win it. Zayn wants to win and he doesn’t want anyone to know that he tried. He doesn’t want anyone else to know how impossible it feels -- even more difficult because they’re the reason why he’s having trouble in the first place.
It would be exhausting if not for the constant raging boner that is Zayn’s new best friend. Everyone else in the group is the worst. He hates them and he hates his boner, but he also loves his boner because it’s the only thing in this world that understands his pain.
Zayn thought about losing a lot at first. Not about just giving up, like Niall did and Harry keeps claiming he wants to do, but just that somehow he wouldn’t be able to do it. He didn’t say anything, and the longer he went without saying anything, the more everyone else seemed to think he could do it. And somehow the days keeps passing and he keeps not-losing, so obviously there’s something to that.
He wouldn’t mind if the days would pass a little slower, though. Especially at night, when his dick doesn’t think he should go to sleep and ignore it all night long. He’s already ignored it all day. His dick doesn’t think that’s fair.
There might have been a point in time when Zayn didn’t have to constantly negotiate with his dick, but that time is not now. He climbs out of his bunk and pads down the aisle to the back lounge.
It’s quiet and all the lights are off in the rest of the bus, so he doesn’t expect to find anyone back there.
Clearly Louis and Niall do not also plan on being found, given that Louis’s trousers are around his ankles and Niall’s knelt between his legs. Zayn can only see the back of his head, but it’s obvious what they’re doing.
They haven’t noticed him yet and he lingers at the door. Louis’s eyes are open and he’s staring down at Niall with on hand threaded through Niall’s hair and the other fisted into the couch cushion. He’s holding the couch rather a lot more tightly than he’s holding Niall’s hair, which would be sweet except for all of the horrible sounds Niall keeps making.
There are the usual wet sounds of sucking, but rougher. They’re really fucking dirty, especially with the way Niall keeps choking. He gags, but the noise is muffled by Louis’s dick, which makes it sound all wet and gurgly. Zayn’s dick really enjoys those noises, but Zayn’s dick also wants retaliation for all its suffering and really cannot be trusted.
“You’re hurting him,” Zayn blurts out after Niall bobs down a little deeper and has to pull back with a truly awful retch.
Louis goes wide eyed, finally noticing Zayn lurking in the doorway, and Niall twists his head around but stays on his knees.
“I just -- heard,” Zayn says. “I was,” he flaps his hand and tries not to appear like he’s staring at the swollen wet curve of Niall’s mouth, “just over there, but then I. Heard.”
Louis’s dick is flushed red and straining against his belly. Zayn can see it now that it’s not in Niall’s mouth. Louis makes no move to cover it as he stares back at Zayn.
“I’ve got the worst gag reflex,” Niall says. “It’s alright, I still like it.”
“Oh,” Zayn says. He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Carry on then.”
“Are you going to stay and watch?” Louis asks. His voice is harsh but that might just be because of how hard his dick is.
“You want me to do you?” Niall asks.
Louis cuffs him gently on the back of his head.
“After you’re done, obviously,” Niall amends.
“We want Harry to lose, remember?” Louis says. “Zayn’s meant to take Harry out.”
“So you can do Harry.”
“I already tried that,” Louis says darkly.
Niall strokes his thigh soothingly and then gets distracted stroking his dick, which quickly leads to him opening his mouth around Louis’s cock again.
He really does have a terrible gag reflex.
Zayn’s cock is a dirty traitor for finding that so hot. As soon as they are interacting again, he’s going to have to sort himself out.
Or let Niall sort him out.
Zayn watches for another long minute. Now that Louis knows he’s there, he keeps looking back and forth between Zayn and Niall. His hand is tighter in Niall’s hair now. He might -- it looks like he’s going to come. Zayn’s breath catches but he doesn’t trust himself with what might come after, so he forces himself to walk away.
That’s the worst part of all this. Well, no orgasms are the worst part, but the other worst part is having to hide from everyone all the time. He can put on a show for a little while, but he knows that if he stays around any of them too long, it will be totally obvious how much he wants them.
And admitting it is the first step to losing, so instead he just climbs back into his bunk where he’s alone with his angry dick.
It takes him a long time to fall asleep and then just like that it’s daytime again. Everyone else is already up when Zayn makes himself a cup of tea. Harry sit at the table wearing only grey briefs which do nothing to hide the thick line of his cock. He didn’t even know they made pants that seethrough.
“Alright?” Zayn asks. His voice is rough from sleep and he does nothing to try to smooth it out.
“Paul said I wasn’t allowed to be naked in front of everyone.”
“You’re certainly obeying the letter of the law,” Zayn says. He’s got a little gunk caught in the corner of his eye, so he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe it away.
When he pulls it back down again, Harry is glaring.
“Liam said he’d give me a blowjob if I won, so don’t try anything,” Harry says warningly.
“I’d never,” Zayn says. He drops his hand to rest on the counter behind him and angles his shoulder forward in a way that he knows juts out the line of his collarbone. He’s switched to wearing wide-necked shirts lately. Just in case.
Harry purses his lips and then scoots his hips forward in the chair and straightens his legs out in front of himself. Like this, he’s one endless stretch of bare skin, interrupted only by the soft grey cotton pulled tight over his cock.
Zayn quirks his mouth and squints at a point in the distance behind Harry’s shoulder.
“It is first thing in the morning,” Louis thunders as he stomps into the room. “People have to be able to have their tea. We are only human beings.”
“Have mine,” Zayn says, sliding the cup across the counter toward Louis and then walking away. He moves slowly and reaches out the tips of his fingers to trail across Harry’s bare thigh as he passes.
Zayn manages to keep the same smile plastered to his face for the entire walk down the bus (which does as he intended because Liam goes suddenly pink when Zayn brushes past him) and then he walks into the bathroom, locks the door, turns the tap on full blast cold and shoves his entire face under the stream of water.
It doesn’t count if no one sees.
Zayn goes into the hotel once they finish the concert. He loves the bus, but tonight he needs strong water pressure and a telly to himself more than he needs the comfort of familiarity.
He showers for half an hour until he’s pink and pruney and then pulls on soft trackies and a worn t-shirt that might have originally come from Louis’s suitcase. The duvet is an annoying, swishy fabric, so he pulls it off the bed and then curls up with a book, the telly playing softly as background noise. If he were back in his own home, it would be the perfect evening.
If he were back in his own home and three orgasms in it would be the perfect evening. Once, when he was fifteen, he spent the entire day wanking just to see how many times he could come. He made it up to four before the friction got to be too much. He could probably beat that record now.
He scrubs his feet against the sheet and tries to stop thinking about his dick, which is sort of the same as thinking about his dick. He has to think about his dick to remember not to think about his dick.
His brain used to work better than this, he’s pretty sure.
He’s just about to turn the telly up when there’s a loud pounding at the door.
Zayn looks through the peephole, but it’s just Louis with his nostril pressed up against the glass.
“We’ve come up with a plan,” Louis says when Zayn opens the door, pushing past him. Liam and Niall follow, with Harry sandwiched between them.
Zayn waits in the center of the hotel room while the rest of the boys form a half circle around him.
“Harry’s going to get arrested for public indecency, so enough is enough. You two see who can get the other one off the fastest.”
Zayn’s not sure what to say, so he tilts his head to the side and squints at Louis.
“It’ll be fair that way. Whoever comes first loses.”
“And you lads are here to -- ?” Zayn asks.
Louis trades glances back and forth with Niall and Liam before shrugging.
“To judge the winner,” says Louis.
“Make sure everyone plays fair,” Liam offers.
“Just to watch,” Niall says.
“Now, go,” Louis says, giving Harry a shove towards Zayn.
“You really want to do this?” Zayn asks when Harry gets close enough.
He expects Harry to do one of his noncommittal shrugs, like, sure, he’s up for anything, just like always, but instead he hisses, “Yes,” with enough intensity that Zayn takes a half step backwards before catching himself.
“Yeah?” Zayn echos.
“I’m dying,” Harry says, already pulling his shirt over his head. “I’ve already died and this is hell, maybe. Take your trousers off.”
“Or I can just -- “ Zayn helps Harry push his jeans the rest of the way down. His cock bobs up immediately, deep red and already wet at the tip when Zayn wraps his hand around him.
“Oh god,” Harry whimpers, curling in on himself and making a broken, guttural sound like nothing Zayn has ever heard before.
He pants raggedly and then makes an heroic attempt to rally, reaching out his shaking hand. He tries to slide his fingers into Zayn’s trackies, but Zayn intercepts his hand easily and tightens his own grip on Harry’s cock.
Harry’s dick jumps as he starts fucking into Zayn’s grip in counterpoint to the long, twisting pulls of Zayn working him over. He’s wet enough that Zayn doesn’t even have to spit in his hand, just smears the precome up the length of Harry’s shaft, using the remaining friction to make it raw. His thumb slides along Harry’s slit on each upstroke.
Harry makes a garbled sound and falls forward, and Zayn catches him with his other arm while Harry starts to come, stuttering over a broken sound that might have started out as a word but now sounds like a sob. Zayn keeps his hand tight around Harry’s cock to wring him through orgasm. He can feel the way Harry’s whole body heaves with each pulse, hard enough that Zayn’s almost worried for him. He tightens his grip on Harry’s shoulder and braces himself to support more of Harry’s weight while Harry slumps forward.
“Jesus Christ,” Zayn hears from somewhere in the background, and, right. They’re not alone.
“Harry,” Louis scolds, enough though his voice is noticeably raspy. “You didn’t even try.”
“I told you I wanted to forfeit,” Harry says, still twitching through what seem to be endless aftershocks.
“Damnit, Zayn,” Liam grumps breathlessly.
Zayn’s still holding Harry, who’s boneless but slowly coming to enough to nuzzle at Zayn, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck. Zayn jerks at the first tease of the tip of his tongue and has to grit his teeth when Harry sucks gently at the spot just under his ear. Harry’s come is still sticky on his hand but he doesn’t care about that now, grabbing desperately at Harry’s back and trying to pull him in closer. He closes his eyes.
“Zayn won,” he hears Louis say.
“And I guess it was fair,” says Liam.
Zayn panics, because what if this means they’re going to leave now? What if they all leave now? He doesn’t actually know what he’d do with himself if they left him. Probably start begging, which seems like a reasonable course of action now, but might be a bit embarrassing tomorrow.
But then Niall, thank god for Niall, says, “Fucking finally,” and rushes across the room.
Niall comes up and Zayn twists blindly towards him, moaning gratefully when Niall seals their mouths together. He kisses like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, and Zayn’s head spins with it.
His knees buckle and he has to open his eyes to righten himself. Louis is standing just behind Niall, now, and Liam closes the little bit of distance left until he’s right up against Zayn’s other side and then they’re all pressed together, so many hands that Zayn can’t even keep track of who’s stroking up the back of his neck and who’s reaching down into his trackies.
Zayn’s had threesomes and moresomes before. At first it was just because he could, but this, this feeling of being touched by so many hands, surrounded by the heat of so many other bodies. This is the best feeling in the world.
“Is this really happening?” Zayn asks. He has goosebumps everywhere, even places where they’re not touching him, and he’s overwhelmed and oversensitized already.
“Yeah, babe,” Louis says. “You held off for such a long time.”
“Yeah,” Zayn echoes, except that his voice cracks halfway through.
Louis smiles so sweetly and lifts up on his toes to push his face closer, as much as he can get with Niall between them.
Zayn leans forward the rest of the way to get at Louis’s kiss, the two of them meeting over Niall’s shoulder. And then Niall drops to his knees and it’s even easier to reach Louis’s mouth. Harry does the same and suddenly there are two sets of hands pulling his cock out of his trackies and Zayn has to blink back tears with how good it is to finally be touched.
Harry licks at the head of Zayn’s cock, licks at Niall’s mouth, stretched open as he slides his tongue along the side of Zayn’s dick. It’s a tease, the two of them working like this without properly sucking, so Zayn really can’t be blamed for the helpless noises he’s making. He can’t stop shaking.
“It’s alright,” Liam whispers in his ear, and Zayn twists towards him, leaving Louis to nip his way down the other side of Zayn’s neck.
“‘m sorry I got you out,” Zayn mumbles and then he whimpers when Louis uses.his teeth
Liam says, “You can make it up to me,” and then fits their mouths together, kissing him deeply right off, all tongue and teeth and suction and god. Zayn wouldn’t still be standing except for the strong arm Liam’s got wrapped around his back and the firm grip of Louis reaching around to grab at his other hip.
“You’re being mean,” Louis says, in a way that sounds mostly like approval, as he peers down at Niall and Harry, snogging frantically around the head of Zayn’s cock. He reaches for Harry’s hair, grabs a handful and twists until Harry makes a low, throaty sound and edges Niall away so that he can slide his mouth down Zayn’s dick, proper.
Zayn keeps breaking out of the kiss with Liam to watch but he has to close his eyes when Harry pulls off and lets Niall take his place. The wet choking sounds are even louder when they’re around his own cock.
“Oh god,” Zayn says, swaying enough that Liam has to tighten his grip before they all end up on the floor.
“Is it everything you wanted?” Louis asks, skritching his fingers across the top of Niall’s head.
Niall hums, mh hm, before choking again. Zayn feels like he’s going to choke with how hard it’s getting to breathe, his entire body strung so, so tight that it’s taking every ounce of brain power he’s got left just to stay upright.
Niall pulls back for a breath and Harry takes over. He opens his jaw wide and takes Zayn all the way down and it’s so good that Zayn’s eyes start leaking a little. It’s good and it’s too much, too much to have all this after the endless stretch of nothing. Zayn jolts against the incredible pressure of Harry swallowing around the head of his cock, and that’s it, that’s it, he’s done.
He would have warned him but everything goes dark and quiet as he comes. There’s the full body rush of relief and good, so good he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to take it, and when he blinks his eyes open again, he’s sat on the floor and Niall’s licking come off Harry’s cheek.
“Messy,” Louis says, settling beside Zayn on the floor.
All of Zayn’s limbs feel a million miles away and his head is filled with cotton fluff.
Liam’s foot is under Zayn’s thigh, so Zayn must have taken him down with him, but Liam doesn’t look too bothered, leaning in for another kiss when Zayn turns to face him. It’s easier when they’re kissing; Zayn’s body starts to feel real again as he sucks on Liam’s tongue.
He kisses Liam and then Louis and Harry, who’s hard again and the only one of them who’s fully naked. Niall throws himself at Zayn when it’s his turn and sends Zayn sprawling back on the floor, which is actually nice, because it means that Niall can crawl over him and give him this full-bodied snog that ends with him trying to rub off against Zayn’s hip.
In the background, Zayn can hear Harry gasp and say, “I thought it was just if I won,” and then Liam mutters something that Zayn can’t hear over Harry’s low moan.
He pulls away from the kiss long enough to look over Niall’s shoulder and see Liam sucking Harry’s dick while Harry arches off the ground, pushing up with needy little jerks of his hips.
It’s hot and Zayn gasps and then Niall’s leaning in for another kiss.
“This will work better if you take your jeans off,” Louis says.
Niall grumbles, but allows himself to be peeled off Zayn long enough for Louis to get his jeans and pants down.
“You too,” Zayn says and then he and Niall watch, rapt, as Louis strips down.
His tan stands out even darker against the pale of Niall’s skin and Zayn touches them both wherever he can reach as they settle on top of him, kissing each other deeply. They kiss each each other and they kiss him and then they kiss each other again until Zayn’s hard and his lips ache and still he tilts up for another kiss whenever one of their mouths is free. He spent so much time trying to look like he didn’t want anyone, but he does. He wants them all, all of the time.
He’s kissing Louis when Niall suddenly blurts out, “Oh, fuck me,” and they break the kiss to look at him.
Zayn doesn’t realize that Niall’s actually asking for it until he sees the look on Louis’s face and Niall says, “Louis, please.”
Louis bites down on his own lower lip for a long moment and then nods.
“Got stuff for it in my bag,” Zayn says quietly. They’re both more of top of him than anything else but he feels like an intruder for half a moment. It’s gone quickly when Niall darts in for a fast, hard kiss before he leaps up and crosses the room.
He comes back with Zayn’s entire bag, and drops it on the floor before launching himself at them.
Louis laughs and rolls him away while Zayn roots around for the lube. Louis gets Niall pinned and by the time Zayn has found the lube, Louis’s fucking his tongue into Niall’s mouth, these slow dirty flashes of pink that Zayn can see.
Zayn skims his hand down Louis’s back gently and waits until Louis lifts up from Niall’s mouth with one last bite to Niall’s swollen lower lip.
“Easier on the bed,” Zayn says. He’s still getting these weird little jolts that couldn’t possibly be aftershocks but sort of feel like that, so he’s happy that he’ll just get to watch. It would be too much to be caught between them right now.
“Good lad,” Louis says, taking the lube from him. He crawls over Niall and kisses Zayn again before standing up and offering one of his hands to each of them, and then they’re all standing and crowding against each other in the race to the bed.
Niall gets there first and crawls up, immediately spreading himself out in the center of the bed.
Louis hangs back a moment, his fingers ghosting over Zayn’s lower back. Zayn looks over his shoulder and Louis whispers, “He’s not done this before.”
Zayn nods and leans backwards until he can butt the side of his head up against Louis’s cheek, reaching for Louis’s hand and pulling him up onto the bed as well.
“We can take care of Nialler, can’t we?” Zayn says, and Louis nods while Niall beams up at both of them.
Zayn watches as Niall spreads his legs to make room for Louis and then he stretches himself out at the foot of the bed, dropping his head over the side of the mattress so that he can dangle down to where Liam and Harry are still tangled together on the floor.
Harry’s mouth is dropped open as he pants up at the ceiling while Liam works over him with both hands and his pink, pink mouth.
“Just imagine what he would have done if you won,” Zayn says gently, and Harry looks over at him, eyebrows twisted in confusion for a brief moment before he huffs out a laugh.
“Yeah,” he says, and then gasps. “Just -- think.”
Zayn reaches over to rub his knuckles over Liam’s shoulder, the only part of him he can reach from up on the bed. Liam lifts one of his hands away from Harry’s cock to catch Zayn’s fingers in a warm squeeze before he lets go and cups Harry’s balls.
Harry’s eyes roll back in his head.
Niall makes a noise from up on the bed and Zayn turns himself back around. Louis’s got two fingers inside of him and he’s twisting them in a short slide back and forth that has Niall groaning.
“I’ve got a condom,” Zayn says, reaching for his bag again.
Louis says, “Cheers,” when he sees the foil in Zayn’s hand. He tries to grab it with the hand he doesn’t have in Niall’s arse, but Zayn just tears it open himself.
He comes up behind Louis and reaches for his cock, the rubber pinched between two fingers. It’s a bit awkward to do blind but he manages to roll it down, and he gives Louis a few long strokes once it’s in place. The lube from the condom already feels tacky in his palm, so he grabs the bottle off the bed and smears on a new handful, pulling at Louis’s cock until Niall finally says, “Oi, there. Save that for me.”
Zayn smothers his laugh in the back of Louis’s shoulder and lets go after another long squeeze. He stretches out beside Niall, curling into his side with his calf hooked under Niall’s knee.
“How are you doing then?” Zayn asks. He feels a little giddy, but Niall just smiles right back at him, laughing when Zayn presses kisses all across Niall’s face.
Niall’s fringe is sweaty against his forehead, so Zayn pets it away, and then he leaves his fingers to stroke over Niall’s flushed cheeks.
“Good,” Niall says. Then, again, “Louis, I’m good.”
There’s a pause while they sort themselves out. Zayn passes Louis a pillow to tuck under Niall’s hips and moves further up the bed so there’s room for Louis to push Niall’s legs back.
Zayn wants to see, but he wants to watch Niall’s face even more, so he stays where he is. Niall’s mouth drops open in a silent gasp as Louis starts to push inside and then he cringes, his face twisting up.
“It’s alright,” Zayn murmurs, stroking at Niall’s cheeks with the backs of his fingers. “Just push back into him. There you go.”
“Is he okay,” Louis asks, sounding slightly panicked. “Niall, are you okay? Zayn?”
Niall nods into Zayn’s hand and Zayn says, “Yeah, he’s good. Give him a little more.”
Louis must push forward because Niall’s head tips backwards and his eyes scrunch shut. He looks totally overwhelmed, and Louis isn’t even fucking him yet. Zayn feels totally overwhelmed, and no one’s even touching him.
But he can, finally. After eons of watching and having to keep his hands to himself, now he gets to touch.
Zayn runs his hand down Niall’s chest, pausing to flick over both of his nipples, until he reaches Niall’s cock. He’s hard but he grows even harder in Zayn’s hand. He gets noisier, too, mumbling nonsense and squirming against Zayn’s hand on his dick and Louis’s hands on his thighs.
“You want Louis to fuck you now?” Zayn asks, circling his thumb around the leaking head of Niall’s cock.
“Yeah, yes, yeah,” Niall chants. “Fuck me now.”
Zayn looks over at Louis, who seems almost as flushed and overwhelmed as Niall, and grins. He’s waited, but it seems like they’ve been waiting, too. And finally they can all have each other.
Louis lets out a little giggle and tries to balance Niall’s thigh with his knee so that he can free a hand to reach out to Zayn. He can’t quite manage, so Zayn crawls over instead. He pushes a piece of Louis’s hair behind his ear and then wraps his arm around Louis’s shoulder, hugging him sideways.
It’s good to be close to Louis, who’s always plotting but likes it best when everyone else is there to help him. Plus, now that he’s up like this, he can see the thick stretch of Louis’s cock buried in Niall’s ass.
“Doing good, Nialler,” Zayn says. He leaves one arm strung ‘round Louis’s shoulder and touches at Niall’s wet hole with his other fingers, sliding around in the extra lube. He rubs at the spot where Niall and Louis meet, pets at the insides of Niall’s thighs, cups his balls and squeezes carefully until Niall’s cock jerks. It’s gone all dribbly and it smears against Zayn’s palm when he rubs a slow hand across the head.
“Oh crap,” Niall says as his legs start to twitch. “Oh god, just start fucking me, okay? Just -- I’m going to--”
It’s difficult for Louis to move with Zayn pressed up beside him like this, so Zayn gives him one slow kiss and then moves away to settle beside Niall on the bed again. He waits until Louis has a good rhythm going and he’s fucking Niall hard and steady, pushing low sounds out of Niall with each thrust of this hips. And then he grabs Niall’s cock again. He pulls him off hard and fast and it takes hardly any time at all before Niall shoots off, coming all over Zayn’s hand and up his own chest.
Louis goes frantic with it, screwing in deep and coming as well. Zayn watches the helpless way he pushes into Niall while he comes. His arse flexes as he jerks through it, and somehow it’s even dirtier than it was to see his dick splitting Niall open. Louis is coming in Niall’s arse.
They’re both clumsy afterward, making a mess as they paw at each other until they’ve got their limbs sorted out again.
Zayn passes Louis a tissue from the side table to wrap the condom, surprised when he sees Liam and Harry crowded together at the very foot of the bed.
“Good show,” Harry says. He looks wrecked, but he offers a shaky thumbs up, which Niall returns immediately.
Liam’s still wearing his trousers. Zayn reaches over and tugs at the fabric, clucking his tongue at Harry.
“We got distracted,” Harry says.
“My turn, then?” Zayn asks. He runs his hand up Liam’s thigh until he reaches the hard line of his cock, which he squeezes.
“See?” Zayn says as he slowly works Liam through his trousers. “I’m not so bad.”
“You’re the worst,” Liam says, but in a way where it sounds like a compliment.
He sprawls out on the bed when Zayn gives him a little shove.
Zayn settles between his legs, opens the flies of his trousers and pulls his cock out of the hole in his pants. He could just strip him down entirely, but there’s something about this that he likes -- sucking off a bloke when only his cock is bare.
Liam’s close even before Zayn starts and his dick is salty from where it’s been smearing around in his pants. He smells really fucking good. He’s careful about keeping his hands to himself and mostly holds still, except when Zayn sucks sharply at the head and Liam’s dick gives a little jerk upward like he can’t even help himself.
He cups Zayn’s neck after that and strokes his thumb across the soft bit of skin just behind Zayn’s ear, which tickles, but not enough for Zayn to stop. Zayn’s probably not normally ticklish behind his ear, but every touch feels magnified by ten thousand right now. Even the occasional brush of his dick against the sheets is enough to lock up his spine.
He works his mouth faster, keeps up a steady suction that makes Liam grunt and then groan and then come so hard his thighs start shaking.
Zayn swallows and tucks him back in his pants, leaving his trousers undone when he pulls away.
“Once again,” Louis says sternly, “Zayn is the last one still hard.”
Zayn laughs but Louis is already wrapping his hand around Zayn’s dick and he cuts off quickly. He’s kneeling on the bed and Louis is kneeling in front of him so they’re face to face as Louis wanks him off, his hand moving quickly between them. Zayn drops his head to rest his forehead on Louis’s shoulder because it’s too much to look Louis in the eye while they’re doing this. It’s already too good.
“You don’t have to pretend you don’t want it anymore,” Louis says, running his other hand down the back of Zayn’s head. He leaves his palm at the base of Zayn’s skull, just holding him, and it’s grounding. Zayn moans weakly into Louis’s shoulder.
Harry comes over and drapes himself across Zayn’s back. He’s naked and warm and mostly just sliding his wet lips across the top of Zayn’s spine but somehow it’s enough to make Zayn’s toes curl. Every touch is too much with how sensitive Zayn feels, but he likes it like this -- when it’s too much and he gets to lose himself in the rush of it all.
Niall noses in and kisses at Zayn’s cheek until Zayn lifts his head and then Niall kisses at Zayn’s mouth. Liam, flopped on the bed beside him, strokes up and down Zayn’s thigh with one huge hand, and they’re all silly and mostly useless from coming already, but it’s still so good that Zayn thinks he might start laughing but instead he closes his eyes and comes.
“So now that that’s done,” Louis says, “can the condom culprit please fess up?”
Niall snorts. “Yeah, after all that.”
“I’ve been wondering,” Liam agrees.
“Oh, yeah,” Harry says slowly. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“So?” Zayn says leadingly.
They all look around the room.
“After everything we’ve been through?” Louis laments. “And you’re still a bunch of filthy liars.”
“Only one in the bunch is a filthy liar,” Niall says. He makes careful eye contact with each other person, wiggling his eyebrows meaningfully before moving on to the next. “Yeah, he says, once he’s finished eyeing everyone. “I can’t tell.”
“Louis,” Zayn says carefully. “Remember when we were having the water balloon fight? Like about three weeks ago.”
“Yeah,” Louis says.
“Right before balloons were banned from the tour,” Liam says. “That was fun.”
“And when you ran out of balloons, what did you switch to?” Zayn asks.
“I tried condoms,” Louis says. “But they didn’t work. They don’t explode when you throw them at people. Good to know that all of our willies are protected, I guess.”
“Right, and after you finished bludgeoning Liam with a water condom, what did you do with it?”
“You untied it and dumped the water on my head,” Liam says. “I was very wet.”
“And then what did you do with it?” Zayn asks, staring intently at Louis.
“I don’t know,” Louis says. “Probably chucked it somewhere.”
“Lou,” Zayn says, pointedly.
“What?” Louis asks. “What?”
Then: “Oh god.”