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       Niall’s new to the City, having only moved into his apartment a few days before, and now he’s quite understandably lost. He’s spent his prior 20 years of life as a country bumpkin, living in a small village that’s tiny and quaint, where everyone knows everyone. But now he’s had to move, mostly because he needs to find work, but also because he’s fascinated by the tales he’s heard regaled about living in such a big place, about the life here and how different it is from the life he’s lead so far.  And it’s only now that he’s here, lost in the back streets of London, that he realises just how large the City is and he’s pretty sure he’s going to get swallowed up into it, because it’s dark outside, the sun having set hours ago and he has no idea which way to go to get home and his car only has so much fuel in its tank. Not to mention, he doesn’t know a single soul around here, so who would really notice if he didn’t return home?

       Groaning, he pulls into the side of the road and crosses his arms over the cool steering wheel, head resting upon them. Okay, so maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but quite frankly he’s feeling homesick to the point of wanting to turn right around and drive back to his Mother and tell her he’s made a terrible mistake.

       He flicks the car light on above his head, fiddling with his phone to try and get his GPS working on it in the hopes of finding his directions that way, but everywhere in London seems to be a one-way system and the stupid thing doesn’t realise that and Niall soon realises it’s useless, throwing his phone down onto his passenger seat with a sigh. He looks up, bright eyes searching the street for any signs of life in the hopes of asking a stranger for directions – that’s right, he’s truly sunk so low as to swallow his pride, risk getting shot at and approach a random Londoner… God have mercy.

       A mix of nerves and joy fill the pit of his stomach when someone finally comes into view, a mere shadow at the end of the street right now, but it’s enough to have him starting his engine again and driving a little further down the road. From here it’s hard to determine much about the person he’s approaching; all he knows for sure is that they’re tall, skinny as a rake and currently have a cigarette dangling between their fingers – easy to spot by the curls of white smoke it was emitting into the dark night air. They also appear to be cold because in the few moments it takes for him to pull the car to a stop beside them, they continuously rub at their upper arms as if trying to keep warm.

       When the car finally comes to a stop again, it’s under the light of a lamppost, and in that moment, as he looks up at the stranger, he registers three things at once. Firstly, it’s a male. He’s suspected as much, but they’d truly looked so slim from a distance that he’d had his doubts. Secondly, the boy’s posture changes the second he notices Niall’s car pulling up beside him, going from huddling for warmth to an overly confident pose, hip jutting out and lit cigarette dangling from the hand resting upon it. And lastly, and currently the only real thing on the blonde’s mind – he has the most piercing, emerald doe-like eyes that Niall’s ever seen in his entire life. He can barely draw his gaze away from them long enough to take in the black top that’s so tight it barely leaves a single curve of the other’s body to the imagination; it has cut off sleeves, which explains just exactly why he’s so damn cold! He’s wearing dark jeans to match, so dark they’re almost black in the slight light, and it appears that at one point they’d have been extremely tight fitting too, but now they bag a little – either from too much wear, or that the stranger has been losing weight, which wouldn’t be surprising given how tiny his waist is. But all of this is irrelevant in Niall’s mind, because those green orbs are so alluring, enrapturing, that it’s all he can see. Even when he looks away long enough to allow a blush to spread over his cheeks, he can still see them each time he blinks.

       “Well hey there, cutie,” and it’s certainly not Niall that’s spoken, oh no. It’s a silky smooth, deep voice that makes his insides squirm and heat pool in his stomach, and dear lord it’s coming from the stranger, who is currently smirking around a puff of his cigarette. “What can I do for ya, darlin’?” And Niall’s still so lost to that voice that the realisation of the situation hasn’t fully hit him yet and his naïve, cushioned childhood hasn’t allowed for him to realise what exactly this boy does for a living.

       Niall can’t find his voice, and oh this is so humiliating. His cheeks are burning brighter than the lamp above their heads, and the whole situation is turning into a car crash. And why did he ever leave his little country village where the strangers were drunken middle-aged men? It appears this stranger is getting a little impatient as he waits for an answer, probably because it’s freezing and Niall’s got the luxury of his car heater – and now he feels a little guilty, trying desperately to form words.

       “No need t’ be shy, love,” the tone is a little softer this time, some of the edge gone, as if it’d been a performance. The exotic (the only way Niall could really describe him, so used to plain looking boys) looking creature had now bent his frame a little, leaning his elbows on the open window of Niall’s passenger side window. He’s getting smoke into the car, but the blonde couldn’t care less because now that he’s bent down, Niall’s able to see the beautiful brunette curls that match those enchanting green hues. Not to mention, the position the younger male was leaning in had drawn his already too tight shirt up a little and now his clearly defined hip-bone is on view, creamy pale skin visible even in the dim lighting and it has heat creeping up the back of Niall’s neck. Honestly, he’s close to hyperventilating, or doing something equally embarrassing. As if the silence isn’t bad enough, on his end. “Look,” the stranger is attempting once again to coax some conversation out of him. “It’s only £50 for the night, so what say I get in the car, ya take me somewhere warm and then we can work on what it is exactly ya want from there?”

       And finally, the penny drops and Niall appears to be choking on absolutely nothing. A prostitute?! Out of anyone he could have pulled up beside… and now the boy is looking at him, expecting a nod or a shake of the head at the very least as way of answer. And the blonde is just… he’s still in total shock, trying to catch his breath as his blue eyes turn to give the other an incredulous look.

       “I… I wasn’t… I mean… I didn’t…!” He’s trying to argue his case, make it clear he’s not some sleazeball, but clearly the brunette is tired of waiting because he’s opening the passenger side door, flicking away the embers of his cigarette and scooping down to pick up Niall’s recently discarded phone from it’s position on the seat.

       “Here,” he murmurs, handing it over to a shell shocked Niall who just takes it and slips it into his pocket. The younger’s voice is even more like velvet in the confines of the small car, but with it comes the strong scent of smoke fumes that has the blonde’s nose wrinkling ever so slightly. The door shuts behind him, and Niall’s just left blinking dumbly, unsure of where to go from here. “First time, huh?” there’s no teasing tone to it, but it still riles him up a little – mostly from humiliation.

       “No! I mean… Well, I’ve never… you know… but I have… no!” he huffs a little, not knowing how to get himself out of that without digging a deeper hole. And now the stranger is laughing, a melodic sound that fills the small vehicle and has Niall’s heart skipping beats, almost forgetting that the laughter is at his expense.

       “Are ya always so articulate?” this time the curly-haired boy is quite clearly trying to tease him, Niall just giving an indignant huff in response because words are not his friend tonight. He starts his engine for lack of anything better to do in the situation, before promptly remembering why he pulled over in the first place… he can’t remember where he’s going. Could this get any worse, really? He’s starting to think he should get ‘loser’ tattooed on his forehead so all the City-folk will know he’s an outsider who knows nothing.

       He manages to stutter his way through an explanation of how he’s lost, stumbling over his words and rambling about unnecessary things until the stranger finally shuts him up by beginning to give him directions. The car journey is quiet, tense and awkward for Niall, though the other boy looks entirely relaxed, looking out of the window and murmuring the occasional ‘take the next left’ or ‘switch lanes’.  

        It’s not until he’s fumbling with the keys to his home that he realises the gravity of this situation, and what’s actually taking place here. It hadn’t been his intention, it still wasn’t, but there was something about this boy that just left you five steps behind, stumbling after him and unable to say ‘no.’ He finally manages to get the key to turn in the lock, making his way inside and flicking the lights on so they can see their way. He hears the stranger close the door behind himself as Niall numbly makes his way into the room, not sure whether he should sit or go to his room or what? Because what exactly is going to take place here? The other male, on the other hand, seems to make himself right at home, gracefully perching his weight on the sofa with his legs crossed and patting the seat beside him.

       “Clearly ya aren’t so good with the conversation,” the other pipes up, head cocked to the side a little as though he’s studying Niall – seeing into his soul. “So how about we start off easy? What’s ya name, sweetie?”

       “Niall,” it comes out as more of a croak, clearing his throat before repeating it just to clarify. “Yours?” he’s brought a boy home who he hasn’t even learnt the name of… great. But still, he can feel a flutter in his stomach because this god-like creature is sat on his sofa, having a conversation – or, rather, a monologue as Niall incoherently babbles – and is planning to do God knows what with him in the bedroom. And thoughts like that really aren’t conductive to his chances of ever stringing a sentence together, so he has to attempt to clear his mind and focus on what the younger is saying.

       “Harry,” there’s a flicker in his green eyes as he studies Niall, and that gaze is just so piercing that Niall can’t help but squirm beneath it. “Ya really aren’t used t’ this, are ya?” his tone clearly shows that he’d doubted the blonde earlier, probably thought the shyness was some sort of act. But if Niall’s bright red cheeks are anything to go by, it’s clear that he’s never even imagined he’d be in this situation before. It’s almost cute, in Harry’s opinion. Niall shakes his head as silent confirmation that this is most definitely a first, and nearly squeaks as the younger rests his slender fingers on his thigh – he can feel just how cold Harry’s fingers are through the material of his jeans, and he’s going to blame his slight shiver on that.

       “Well then, why don’t we start with the basics and see where ya wanna go from there, yeah?” Harry’s ‘innocent’ gesture doesn’t seem quite so pure anymore, not as his fingertips begin trailing their way higher up Niall’s thigh until the elder’s breath hitches in his throat. Niall hasn’t responded out loud, he hasn’t really needed to, because having Harry begin to crowd him on the sofa has gotten his jeans to tent slightly from his arousal and he knows it’s visible enough for Harry to see. And the smile that the boy gives has Niall’s heart skipping beats because, fuck, he has dimples! Eventually he manages a shaky nod, and within seconds of the gesture, Harry’s fingers are deftly unfastening the button on his jeans, followed by his zipper. He doesn’t try to go any further though, instead just letting his fingers linger in the slight tufts of Niall’s happy-trail. When he doesn’t continue, Niall finally tears his gaze away from the younger’s hand to look up questioningly at his face. He’s startled once again by the brilliance of Harry’s eyes, but the expression is what really catches Niall out. He’d been waiting for him to look up, capturing Niall’s lips in a deep kiss within moments. It was a little awkward at first, Niall unsure of what pace the kiss would be at and so they’d clashed teeth a couple times, but now he’d fell into sync with the movement of Harry’s lips, he could appreciate just how plush they were and how much electricity he felt from the touch.

       Harry was, of course, the first to use tongue. Initiating it by licking his way into Niall’s mouth and earning a soft groan from the elder at the feeling. He’d been expecting the younger to taste a little like a dirty ash tray, but he’d been so, so wrong. He tasted sweet, a flavour Niall had never tasted before so he could only assume it was all Harry. He began to caress his tongue back against the brunette’s, his hands finally moving up from his own lap to cup the other’s cheeks as they kissed dirtily, needily. Finally, Harry’s fingers worked their way into Niall’s boxers, wrapping around the elder’s hardened length. There was no doubt on either of their minds that he was fully aroused by now, especially as Harry gave the first flick of his wrist and had Niall’s whole body bucking up. Fuck. He really knew how to use his hands, the pad of his thumb swirling over the head of Niall’s cock, teasing at the sensitive slit until the elder was all but whimpering into their kiss, which in itself had turned more into lip biting than anything else.

       A needy little moan escaped Niall as he felt Harry’s lips being drawn away, and he opened his lust-filled eyes, that he wasn’t even aware he’d closed, to watch the younger. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Harry wasn’t entirely unaffected by all of this, either. His cheeks were flushed a soft pink from arousal, and his green eyes had darkened dramatically as his pupils dilated. Currently, he was slipping down to his knees between Niall’s parted thighs, lips pressing hot little kisses down the elder’s toned abdomen, clearly admiring all the muscle definition Niall had there. It made him blush a little, to see the lust in the other’s eyes, but it was definitely aiding to turn him on further.

       He’d already known what was coming from the moment Harry shifted to the floor, but nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of his slick, heated tongue swirling around the head of his swollen cock, the same way his thumb had been doing moments previously. He managed to look down at the younger, catching his eyes as Harry began to fist the base of his member, lavishing licks upon the tip as though it were his favourite lollipop, and the expression in the brunette’s emerald orbs seemed to mirror that sentiment. One of Niall’s hands shakily reached down to card into the other’s hair, tugging it just hard enough to elicit a soft moan from Harry’s parted lips. Niall was sure he was in both heaven and hell all at once, the pleasure almost too much, yet not enough. He keened out, desperate for more, and the younger obediently complied.

       Soon the curly-haired male’s lips were wrapped firmly around Niall’s shaft, still lapping at it as he began to suck, hand continuing to work at the parts his mouth didn’t reach. It was all in such a skilled, perfect rhythm that Niall was helpless to it all, thighs trembling as he tried his hardest not to buck up and just fuck into the other’s warm, silky, welcoming mouth.  The blonde was cursing loudly, hand fisting so tightly in Harry’s curls that his knuckles had turned white.

       Harry dipped his head down just a little further, hollowing his cheeks around the throbbing cock in a way that left Niall bucking up into his mouth without any control, forcing his head down farther at the same time. He felt Harry gagging around him for a moment before he seemed to get his throat to relax, just swallowing around the length and flaring his nostrils so he could keep up his steady breathing. He went back to work on sucking the blonde off, except now, Niall was remaining so far down Harry’s throat that each time he bobbed his head, he could feel the head of his cock brushing the back of the younger’s throat.

       It took one moan, one slight hum of vibrations from Harry to have Niall shouting out, his climax hitting him so suddenly that he didn’t have time to give any warning and came so deep down the younger’s throat that he had no choice but to swallow everything he had to give him, though he didn’t seem to mind all that much, judging by the way he proceeded to lick his now spent cock clean. Niall was still trembling, heart racing and breathing coming in pants as he slowly returned to Earth from his high. His eyes were shut tight, a serene smile on his face and his fingers still stroking through the younger’s hair.

       “W-wow…” he managed to get out, laughing weakly as Harry continued to pet at his softening length before tucking him back into his pants, giving him that dimple-filled smile that made Niall’s heart skip beats, though the added haze in his green eyes showed his arousal.

       “Mmm, not done with ya yet, tyke,” he purred, rising to his feet and holding his hands out to Niall to get him to his feet. “Got me for the whole night,” Niall’s legs felt like jelly as he stood beside Harry, swallowing around the sudden dryness in his throat. He’d just come only moments before, but already he could feel himself getting excited at the idea of being buried deep inside this beauty’s tight heat.

       That thought alone was enough to get him up the stairs, this time him leading the younger as he kept a firm grip on his hand and lead him into the bedroom. He was desperate to feel Harry’s lips again, pushing him against the door as it shut behind them, pinning him in place with his hips as he crushed their lips together heatedly. Harry made a small murmur at the way he thudded against the wood, though it was anything but complaint and soon the brunette’s legs were coming up to wrap around Niall’s waist, the only thing supporting his weight was the way their hips were flush together. Niall ground up against him, their clothed crotches rubbing together as Harry moaned and let his neck arch back, head resting on the cool wooden frame. Niall used this to his advantage, attacking his jaw and throat with nips and licks, grazing his teeth against the sensitive patch behind the other’s ear and earning the hottest little whimpers he’d ever heard in his life. He reminds himself not to leave any marks, though he tries to ignore the nagging little thoughts that tell him it’s because he only has Harry for one night, that this isn’t real, it’s just a job. An almost dominant growl rumbles through him at that thought, lifting the younger away from the door and carrying him over to the bed, throwing him down upon it.

       “Fuck,” Harry purrs, and if Niall’s jeans weren’t already bulging again, they certainly are now. His hands are still a little shaky as he crawls up the bed to straddle the younger and begins to work Harry’s shirt off. He’s only seen the arm tattoos up until now, but as the black shirt reveals more and more of the younger’s creamy skin, Niall finds his eyes falling upon several inked pieces of art decorating his chest. He doesn’t even think about what he’s doing, dipping his head down and swirling his tongue around the swallow that’s just above Harry’s left pectoral. It earns a delicious moan, and Niall feel Harry’s nails digging into his shoulder blades where the younger’s hands are resting. He grins a little, letting his tongue trail down further until he’s giving small kitten licks to the other’s nipple, feeling it pebble and peak beneath the muscle until it’s erect enough for Niall to suck the pink nub between his lips. And now Harry’s whole body is arching up off the bed, hips aimlessly rutting up as though he’s trying to get friction from Niall. The elder takes a shaky breath before moving a little further up Harry’s body so that their groins are aligned, rocking down against him to give him the feeling he knows he’s craving. It gets him an unintelligible noise sputtered from Harry’s lips, and now he can feel the younger’s erection pressed up against his own, his whole body feeling as though it’s searing hot wherever they touch, despite still being separated by clothing.

        “F-fuck… fucking fuck me!” Harry’s voice is somewhere between a command and a plea, his eyes shut tight and now Niall’s hands are slipping lower, helping to get Harry’s jeans off and God help him because the boy isn’t even wearing underwear. He reaches over to the bedside drawer, intent on grasping lube and a condom, but Harry’s hand comes up to wrap around his wrist and pulls his hand back, shaking his head up at him. “Strip first… I want to feel you…” and that’s enough to take Niall’s breath away, because surely a prostitute shouldn’t think that way? It makes everything feel so much more real… and before he even registers what he’s doing, he’s following Harry’s request, tugging his shirt up and over his head, followed by his jeans and boxers that are kicked off and discarded somewhere upon the bedroom floor. And now his cock is springing to attention once again, as though he didn’t just receive the best blowjob of his life less than five minutes ago, and he can see how intently Harry’s green eyes are trained upon it. And he licks his lips… his pink tongue comes out and strokes over his lower lip to wet it, as though the memory of tasting Niall is too much for him, like he wants to do it again… but no, Niall shakes his head a little and reaches out for the lubricant once again, because there’s something far more pressing that he wants to do with Harry before his night is up.

       This time Harry doesn’t stop him, and his fingertips brush over the packet and bottle before he finally gets a grasp on them and pulls them back to rest upon the bed beside his thighs. He’s switched position whilst stripping off, and is now knelt between Harry’s spread legs, his blue eyes taking in the glorious sight that’s resting before him. A needy little noise is what finally draws his attention back to what he’s supposed to be doing, scrambling to pick the little bottle back up and squirt a generous helping of the gel onto his fingers. He slicks them up until he’s sure that they won’t hurt the boy in any way. Once again discarding the bottle onto the mattress, he shifts his weight and spreads Harry’s legs just a little further, feeling the other’s eyes watching him and his every move. Just as his fingertip begins to stroke along Harry’s crease and tease at his tight pucker, he looks up and locks his gaze upon those bright green hues. They’re heavy lidded and there’s a hunger within them that makes Niall’s toes curl as he finally pushes the first digit in past that tight ring of muscles. Harry’s moan is soundless, just the loud gush of air from his lungs is heard as he clenches and unclenches around the finger invading his most private of areas, but it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s relaxing into it and Niall can feel him trying to grind down against his finger and get it in further.

       He works that digit in and out of Harry a few times, the reactions getting stronger and more intense each time until he finally pairs it with a second and pushes them both in. And now Harry’s moans are anything but quiet, his fists curled into Niall’s duvet as he ruts down upon the intrusion. Niall knows he’s found the other’s prostate when his fingers brush just so against something within Harry that gets a choked, broken curse torn from deep within his chest.

       “Need… need your dick…fuck!... Please!” but Niall’s only got two fingers worked into him knuckle deep, and no matter how much the younger begs, he isn’t going to rush and hurt him. He begins to scissor the digits within him, stretching him as quickly as he can, because if Harry keeps moaning in that way then Niall is going to finish before he even gets inside of him. “Niall!” He knows the moan is supposed to be to get him to hurry up, but holy hell this beautiful creature has just moaned his name and it takes all he’s got to not just come on the spot. Hastily, maybe a little too quickly, he removes his fingers from the younger’s tight heat and grabs the condom. But his hands are shaking so much he can’t get the wrapper open, cursing under his breath until he feels two, colder, slender hands cover his and take the small packet from his grasp.

       He sits back on his feet in his kneeling position, and watches as Harry unfastens the condom and reaches down, rolling it onto Niall’s reddened cock with an expert technique. He follows up by stroking Niall’s erection a few times with a lubed up palm, to help prepare him further. The elder’s thighs tremble slightly at the sensation, and he groans gruffly before knocking Harry’s hands away and finally lining his length up against his tight heat. He’s slightly startled when he feels Harry’s long legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer, taking a bracing breath before he finally begins to sink inside the younger. And fuck… he’s so tight from only being stretched by two fingers that Niall’s vision blurs slightly.

        “O-oh… nnghh!” is the pleasured noise Harry makes as Niall carefully bottoms out, probably being far more gentle than anyone Harry’s had in a long time. But that’s just the kind of guy he is, and he wouldn’t get any pleasure from a situation like this if he didn’t think the person he was fucking was enjoying it too. But right now, there’s no doubt on his mind that Harry’s loving every second, because even though he’s only just begun to move inside him, the younger already looks wrecked. Niall’s hips are picking up a steady pace, not slow enough to be considered love-making, but not as hard as ‘just a quick fuck’, because he wants to take his time with this, wants to make this last so he can watch that pleasured look play out on Harry’s features for hours. And for once, Harry isn’t trying to get him to hurry up, isn’t trying to take charge. No, right now he’s got his eyes shut, his hands back to fisting the material beneath them as he lays there and takes whatever Niall is willing to give him with such dirty noises of enjoyment that Niall swears they should be illegal.

       His hands grip Harry’s hips, thumbs rubbing tender circles under the bone which is so prominent that it’s a little worrying, and begins to roll his hips up into him instead of just thrusting, in the hopes that he’ll be able to find his prostate at this angle. And it seems to do the job, because suddenly Harry’s eyes have shot open, his jaw has gone slack and his short nails are now clawing at the mattress with each breathy moan he gives. Slight beads of sweat are forming on Niall’s forehead and the back of his neck from the exertion of keeping up such a steady movement, when every sense within him is begging to just fuck into his tight heat as hard and fast as he can. His own noises have turned to grunts, pants and the occasional groan as he focuses on what he’s doing.

       Harry’s hands come up to grip his shoulder blades, scratching at them hard for a few moments before he’s tugging Niall down to the bed, rolling them over and Niall’s so startled he just lets it happen. Harry lets out a breathless giggle, dimples back on show, at Niall’s surprised expression. Somehow, they’ve managed to stay joined together during the move, and now Harry is full on straddling him as Niall gives him a questioning gaze.

       “Wanted to ride you,” Harry shrugs a little, still smiling as if that’s a normal thing to just do. But deep down in both their minds they’re drawing parallels and realising that this is supposed to be Harry’s job and he’s not supposed to just do things because he wants to. It’s like they’ve both forgotten how they got here, so lost in each other that Harry isn’t just a prostitute anymore. And that makes the younger start to feel uncomfortable, so he’s rocking himself on Niall’s cock before the other can open his mouth to comment. It does exactly what Harry hopes for, because at this new angle Niall is getting so much deeper than before and his mind is a mess of incoherent babbling, some of the words escaping as Harry continues to move his weight over him.

        Unlike Niall, who’d taken a slow and steady approach, Harry is fast picking up the pace. He’s bouncing himself onto the elder’s cock in a way that has their skin making noises each time it meets together. Niall’s trying to match the pace and finally manages to meet the younger thrust for thrust, the result of which is them both getting wrecked far faster. Harry’s head is arched back again, but now from this position Niall can see the curve of his swan-like neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each hard swallow or drawn out moan. His eyes are shut tight again, and his already plush, red lips, are swollen and parted to allow each ragged breath to pass through. His dark curls are dampened and messy, attaching themselves to his sweat slickened nape and temples, and his whole body is glistening slightly from perspiration. And he smells divine; the fresh sweat is so sweet and whatever cheap cologne Harry wears is mixing with it and that ever-present scent of cigarette smoke that seems to linger around the younger. It all mixes together in each deep breath Niall is taking and he wishes he could breathe it forever, because he’s never smelt anything like it before, it’s all Harry and sex, and he’ll never get enough of it.

       Heat is beginning to pool deep in his belly, and he can feel the familiar tightening of the elastic band that’s ready to snap in his groin as his climax begins to build. Harry’s heels are digging into the bed under them in an attempt to get more leverage, and his hands have moved to the headboard so the springs are squeaking with the intensity of their movements. Niall only has to glance up at him once to know that the younger is as close as he is, moving one hand from it’s position on the other’s hips and reaching out to wrap his hand around Harry’s leaking member.

      “Oh God…” Harry sobs, green eyes opening to lock gazes with Niall, and both of their pupils are so blown that their eyes look like matching onyx. “D-don’t stop!” he’s almost begging as Niall’s hand begins to move over his neglected length, thumb swiping up beads of pre-come to slick his hand up further, each movement making a very obvious wet noise that adds to their moans and heavy breathing, and the creaking of the bed and together it’s all building up like their own needs for release, like the background music to their time together.

       Harry’s the first to snap, reaching his climax with a loud, desperate prelude of ‘G-gonna c-..!’, and the hot, sticky spurts of his come are hitting Niall’s chest and coating his hand as the younger clenches around him like a vice and makes it almost impossible to keep up the movement of his hips. Together they help Harry ride out his orgasm, until he finally seems to get through the intense waves of pleasure and can focus enough to pick up the pace of his hips again, now both working to get Niall off.

       It doesn’t take long. Niall’s hips jerk up, hitting deep inside of the smaller-framed boy and freezing there as he spills into the condom with a loud shout of Harry’s name. And he can’t even feel embarrassed for it, because the elastic band has snapped and he’s just had the best orgasm of his life, not to mention, the best sex.

        They’re both panting, hearts racing and both near collapsing as they come down from their highs. Harry rolls off of Niall, who takes off the used condom, ties a knot into it, and throws it into the small waste-bin that’s just out of reach of the bed. They lie together, both staring up at the ceiling as they try to catch their breaths, before Harry’s musical giggle breaks the silence, and the tension along with it, and they’re both rolling onto their sides so they can embrace. Harry’s tucked under Niall’s chin, pressing soft kisses along his jaw, as Niall buries his nose into Harry’s damp curls and takes in as much of his scent as he possibly can, because he doesn’t know for how much longer he’ll be allowed to keep breathing it in.

       They fall asleep like that, tangled together in each other’s arms, entirely naked aside from the thin sheets of Niall’s bed. They look like lovers, and it almost feels like that to Niall too, though he tries not to question that as he lets unconsciousness claim him.

       When he wakes up in the early hours of the morning, it’s to an empty bed. And if it weren’t for the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne on his pillow, he’d swear it had all been a dream. He sits up groggily, looking around for his phone to check the time, and remembering he’s left it in his jean pocket. Groaning, he climbs out of the bed, still naked and routes around until he finds the material, though the phone is on top of the pile instead of inside the pocket. A curious gaze comes over his face as he lights the screen up.

‘Here’s my number… y’know, in case you ever get lost again? And what kind of idiot doesn’t have a lock on their phone, seriously? Not to mention, falling asleep with a prostitute in the house! Could have robbed you! Maybe I should, and teach you a lesson ;) First time is on me, love. See ya around, Harry xxx’

       It’s open as an unsent message, with Harry’s number in the contact details, and Niall has to read it through three more times before the words sink in. He’s been given the boy’s number, he’s expecting Niall to call him and arrange another meet up… and he didn’t take a single penny from the older, even though they spent the entire night together. His cheeks blush in the dark, a small smile quirking at his lip as he carries the phone back to bed, sliding in between the covers and types his reply before turning the screen off and laying back down, falling into a deep, content sleep.

       Outside of Niall’s house, leaning against his car with a cigarette in his mouth, Harry feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and a smirk forms on his lips as he pulls it out. It’s not until he reads the text, however, that his smile gets big enough to show off his dimples.

‘I think my diary says I’m due to get lost again on Saturday night… so I guess I’ll be seeing you then? ;) – Niall xxx’