Niall uses his keys to unlock Bressie’s door carefully, wincing when they jingle in the quiet air. He waits for a second, but Bressie doesn’t come to meet him. That’s when Niall knows something’s really wrong with Bressie and he’s not just being a baby. Bressie had texted him earlier in the day, telling Niall that he wasn’t well and whinging for some soup, but Niall just thought he was exaggerating.
Now that Bressie doesn’t come and meet him with his usual kiss, Niall has to admit he’s a little worried.
So Niall leaves his jacket and his bag on the couch in the living room and he pads quietly through Bressie’s apartment, pushing Bressie’s bedroom door open to see the man himself lying down on his bed, tucked sweetly underneath his duvet.
Bressie’s lying on his back but his head is nestled between the pillows, turned away from Niall, and his feet are tangled in the sheets. He’s snoring, nasally. It fills the air and makes Niall want to be curled up, right underneath Bressie’s arm.
Niall eases through the open door carefully, pressing his back into the door as he shuts it behind himself, smiling a little when Bressie still doesn’t stir.
Niall crosses the room carefully, stripping his shoes and his sweater so he can crawl onto the bed without hinderance, so he can straddle Bressie’s waist and the only thing that gives him pause is the stretch he feels in his hips. Niall should be used to it by now, after three years and a handful of months, but it still gets him every time, makes his breath catch in his throat before he adjusts to it.
Niall lays himself flat on top of Bressie, his hands against Bressie’s collarbones and his chin on the lacing of his knuckles, and there he waits for Bressie to wake up.
It doesn’t take long.
There’s a second there, where Bressie’s eyes move behind his lids, where he looks like he’s going to slip further under as his snoring takes a particularly obnoxious pitch, but then he eases one eye open, and then the other, and his mouth curves in a drowsy grin.
Niall snorts. “You’re such a faker.”
Niall tries to move off of Bressie, sitting up and shifting his knee out to the side, but Bressie holds him fast, reaching out to loop his arms around Niall’s waist. He sits up to tuck his head into Niall’s shoulder and croons, “No, no, I’m really sick, please.”
Niall nudges Bressie away so he can touch at his cheek with the back of his hand, and Bressie does seem a little hot, but Niall’s no doctor. “How do you feel?”
“Feel like shit,” Bressie says, slumping back down on the bed. He rubs a tired hand at his eyes and Niall feels a little bad for waking him up. “Tired, can’t breathe.”
Well, that might be because Niall is sitting on top of him. “Sorry,” Niall stammers, “do you want me to-,” and he even starts to try to move away again, but Bressie actually pulls him closer and, with one hand settling on the low of Niall’s back, Bressie coaxes him into lying down on him again.
“Nah,” Bressie huffs when Niall settles, and he dips in to press a gentle kiss behind Niall’s ear. “It’s nice, you on top.” Bressie rubs his hand across Niall’s back and, against his best effort, Niall shivers.
“Yeah?” Niall asks softly, looking up at Bressie through his eyelashes. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, not if Bressie is feeling poorly, but Niall shifts a little, until they’re lined up, through Niall’s jeans and his briefs, Bressie’s pajamas and the duvet. It’s enough that, when he starts to roll his hips, just gently, Bressie’s eyes flutter and then shut.
Niall laughs and lifts his hips up.
“Nooo,” Bressie groans, grappling at Niall’s shirt when he tries to move further out of reach. Bressie whines when Niall moves his hands away and pins his wrists on the bed.
“When you get better,” Niall promises, swallowing down a laugh when Bressie glares at him through slitted eyes. “As soon as you get better, I swear.” Niall even slides his hands up to lace his fingers with Bressie’s, and he ducks down low enough for a kiss.
Bressie deepens it, as he usually does, cupping one of his hands to the back of Niall’s neck to keep him close as he licks his tongue through Niall’s lips, and Niall would be worried about getting sick if he wasn’t so focused on trying not to rut one out against Bressie’s stomach.
Niall laughs into their kiss and twists his face away, as much as he can with Bressie’s grip in his hair. “You should rest, Bressie.”
Bressie just grunts sleepily and palms a hand across his face. “Awful, awful tease, you are,” he grumbles. “Don’t know how you expect me to go back to sleep now.” Bressie rolls over with purpose now, bucking Niall off of him so that Niall goes sprawling onto the bed beside him.
Even still, Niall presses himself up close to Bressie’s chest. “Don’t tell me you’ve never gone to bed with a stiffy,” he cackles.
“I usually just jerk off,” Bressie says after a moment, though he shuts his eyes and winces like he’s in pain.
“Well, what’s stopping you now?” Niall asks, leaning in close enough to nuzzle his nose against Bressie’s until it loses all tension. “Are you getting shy because I’m here?” Niall reaches up to tickle Bressie’s chin with his finger, enough that Bressie scoffs and rolls over onto his other side, offering his back to Niall.
“I’m still sick, you know,” Bressie huffs over his shoulder. “My erection has nothing to do with that.” Niall croons at the back of his head, wraps his arms around Bressie’s middle and tucks in close to his back. “Here’s an idea,” Bressie says after a moment, moving Niall’s hand from his stomach but only so he can lace their fingers together sweetly. “Take pity on a sick man.” And then he, not so sweetly, slides their laced hands down until it’s resting on the band of his pajama pants.
Niall thumbs over the back of Bressie’s hand contemplatively, and he does kind of feel bad, both for waking Bressie up and for getting him hard, but he just has to tease him a little longer. “You’re not making a very convincing argument for me to blow you,” Niall hums into the sleep-kissed skin behind Bressie’s ear.
But then Bressie cranes his head so he can just about meet Niall’s eyes, and Niall sits up to accommodate him. “I don’t want you to blow me,” he says slowly, shifting onto his back so he can paw at Niall’s shirt gently, slide his hand around to trace fingers up Niall’s spine. “I want you to ride me. You were halfway there already.”
Niall huffs a laugh at him but he palms a hand over Bressie’s chest anyway, speaking in a semi-condescending tone. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he says, as though they can turn back now.
Bressie wraps his arm around Niall’s waist to haul him onto his lap, putting him back where he was not even five minutes earlier. “And this will put me right to bed,” Bressie hums as he settles Niall on his lap, touching gently at his thighs. “Come on, Niall. I’m hard as nails here,” Bressie flexes his hips up so that Niall can feel his cock, even through all the layers between them.
Niall swallows thickly, because he can tell how much Bressie wants him, and he knows how much he wants Bressie, and there’s no denying themselves that now. “Alright, alright, whiner,” Niall breathes, but he draws down the duvet from between them, peeling it back like he’s unwrapping the best kind of present.
When it’s down at the foot of the bed, Bressie’s chest is bare and Niall presses the heel of his palm to it, just because he can’t help himself, but it makes Bressie purr anyway. Niall pulls away then so they can get started, and he strips off his shirt in one smooth move. Bressie’s fingers find his skin now, crawling up before he draws his thumb over Niall’s nipple.
Niall has always been ticklish there, always been sensitive as well, so he hunches in with a breathless huff and shoots Bressie a look that makes him hold his hands up in a mockery of innocence. “Need help?” Bressie asks, reaching down to pop the button on Niall’s jeans but that’s about as far as he gets before Niall is batting him away.
“I’m fine,” he says, but he starts working faster, hooking his hands into his jeans and his boxers to shove them down his legs, and he wiggles enough to get them off of him, to toss them away somewhere into Bressie’s bedroom. Niall is embarrassingly hard already, cock flushed dark pink all over, but Bressie seems to like it because he reaches out for a palmful.
Niall has to stifle a moan into his shoulder. He takes a steadying breath and then looks down at Bressie expectantly, arching an eyebrow when Bressie still doesn’t move. “And you?”
Bressie smiles at him, all slow and syrupy. “You do it,” he drawls, clasping his hands behind his head like he’s sunning on a beach.
Niall hisses at him a little, but it’s fine. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Bressie’s pajama pants and he pulls them down, down, until his swollen cock bobs out. It leaves a sticky wet spot just beside Bressie’s navel and never has Niall wanted to put his tongue on something more than right now. Bressie doesn’t help, not even as Niall draws his pants down to his knees. “I could still leave, you know,” Niall threatens, but his voice is shaky to his own ears as he reaches over to Bressie’s bedside table for his lube.
“You won’t,” Bressie laughs, and his hand slides over Niall’s hip, over his ass, just enough for Bressie’s fingers to dip into the cleft of his ass.
Niall can’t help it, he rides back into Bressie’s hand a little as he slicks his fingers wet with lube, and he drops his head down until he’s flat on top of Bressie again. It feels easier that way to slide his fingers between his legs, ignoring his cock to wet at his hole.
Niall’s breath catches when he presses a finger in, more so when Bressie slides his hand back up Niall’s spine like he’s trying to comfort him. It serves to ramp Niall up more, makes him moan wantonly into the skin of Bressie’s chest. They’ve barely even done anything and yet he’s already losing his mind.
“Fuck,” Niall breathes, and it’s the only sound that breaks through the room other than their heavy breathing and the noisy wetness of his hole. Niall bites his lip to hold back any more words that could spill out of him, but it only makes the lube sound louder as he works himself wide on his knuckles.
Bressie stays still when Niall, having had all the prep that his sane mind could take, sits up and pulls his messy fingers out of himself so he can use that slick to stroke Bressie from root to tip. He must be doing it a little too enthusiastically though, because Bressie croons at him gently, “Slow down, love.”
But Niall has no intentions to listen. He’s a little too desperate to take his time, so it’s only seconds before he’s lifting up on his knees and nudging Bressie’s cock back, behind his balls, to his hole. Niall grinds down on the head and Bressie’s legs kick up. He hisses.
Niall takes Bressie in as deep as he can, barely even halfway down, but it still makes him whine high in his throat. “Jesus, Bressie,” Niall chokes, letting his head hang at the intense pressure inside him, spreading him wide.
Bressie slides his hands over Niall’s thighs and it makes him sink an inch lower on him, makes him let out a reedy noise. “Good for it?” Bressie asks lightly, cupping Niall’s hip. Niall’s overwhelmed, but he nods his head anyway, letting his ass sink until he’s settled down on Bressie’s thighs and all full up with his cock.
It’s an achy feeling, his asshole clenching sore around him, but the way Bressie looks up at him, like he’s something wonderful, makes Niall start to move. Niall puts both palms against Bressie’s chest to stabilize himself, a slow back and forth grind that makes him pant as he rides. Bressie reaches up to touch at his mouth and Niall licks the salty pad of his thumb.
“So perfect,” Bressie praises him, drawing his thumb to Niall’s cheek, over his throat, and down his chest, like he’s following the blushy path that Niall knows is painting him pink.
Niall shuts his eyes and lets himself get lost in the rhythm, in the feeling, enough that his heart actually skips a beat when Bressie’s hands cup his waist, steadying him where he’s shaking like a leaf. Niall didn’t even realize he was, but he is. Still, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t even think about stopping, because heat is pooling in his stomach and, at some point, even though it seemed like he was just going to lie there and take it, Bressie’s hips are rocking up to meet his, and it’s such a perfect moment of ecstasy that his brain is white-ing out.
Niall curves a hand around his cock and it barely takes two pumps before he’s crying out, before he’s coming, striping up Bressie’s chest with his release.
Niall’s elbow buckles from the pleasure and he goes face down against Bressie’s shoulder, but Bressie seems fine with that because he cups Niall’s ass with both big palms and he fucks up into him, his thighs and his balls slapping against Niall’s skin. Niall gasps and moans with every thrust, over sensitive and swollen, that by the time Bressie comes, his eyelashes are all tangled together with tears.
Bressie lets Niall slump on his chest, his cock slimy as it slides out, but Niall isn’t complaining. He’s buzzing all over with sun-yellow pleasure, feeling well-used and come-drunk.
Niall lies there in bliss for a few seconds before he lifts his head. It feels heavy as all hell but he wants to make sure Bressie’s okay, that that was okay. Bressie’s eyes are closed and his head is tilted back between the pillows, nearly the same way he was when Niall first walked in.
“Bressie?” Niall says softly, cupping a hand to Bressie’s cheek. Niall is answered with a loud, obnoxious snore. Niall shoves Bressie’s face away from him, rolling off onto the bed beside him with a hiss. “Asshole,” he says, even as Bressie laughs and laughs, and his arms curve around Niall’s waist before he can get too far.
“You know,” Bressie hums. “I think I’m feeling better already.”