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Power of Suggestion

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Harry blames Zayn for his current predicament. Zayn and the ridiculous words he likes to whisper when they're on stage and Harry can't do a damn thing to stop him. Dangerous and stupid and mind-blowing words like You know, as bendy as you are I bet you can suck your own cock. And then the little shit smirked and added, Even if it wouldn't be as much fun as when I suck it for you.

If Zayn would just learn to shut his perfect fucking mouth, Harry wouldn't be lying in the dark contemplating the possibility of sucking his own cock.

Harry knows it's possible. He looked it up, found vids and pics and even a couple of blogs with helpful hints. He just wonders if it's possible for him.

He's gonna kick Zayn in the nuts if he can't do it, if he's wasted days thinking about the impossible.

"Fuck it," he says, grimacing when the words echo off of the wood flooring, sounding loud enough to wake the neighbours. Grabbing a pillow, he scoots until he's sitting up with his back against the headboard.

Everything he read said that arousal was the key. You have to want it.

Harry has that bit covered. He's so hard it hurts, each beat of his heart echoing in his dick. His cockhead is pulling his foreskin back, and the tip of his dick is shiny with precome. His breath speeds up and his mouth waters and, as he curls forward, all he can think, please, yes, please, let me be able to do this.

The muscles in his back burn with the strain. He doesn't even care. He just takes a deep breath and pushes on.

His perseverance pays off.

At the first touch of his tongue to his dick, Harry opens his mouth and groans. Then immediately drives himself forward, trailing his tongue over as much of his dick as he can.

He wraps his hand around the base of his dick, and hand sliding through saliva and precome, pulls until his fingers bump against his lips.

Pulling back, stroking from base to tip, he flicks his tongue over his slit once, and then once again.

And his world explodes with a maelstrom of sensory overload.

One, two… four more strokes, with his tongue pushing into his slit, Harry's balls draw up and his dick jerks in his grip; he comes.

Come decorates his lips and his cheek, the salty flavor spreads fast over his tongue, and all Harry can think is he can't wait to do it again.

And that he might owe Zayn one for making the suggestion.

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