The first thought Jack had upon waking up was that Harry Styles was pure fucking evil.
The second was that he didn’t quite know what was happening in the mirror above Harry’s hotel bed, but he could make out just enough in addition to the noises emanating from the other side of the sofa that Jack had no trouble piecing together exactly what Harry was up to.
The day started out normal enough. Jack had a bit of a lie-in before joining the others for breakfast so they could plan the rest of their day off, which culminated in a few hours of footie for Barry, Tom, and Aneurin while Fionn and Harry opted to go shopping in town. Jack dithered a bit over which group to go with before finally settling on Fionn and Harry once he’d decided that the muscle soreness after a couple matches wouldn’t feel so great once he was crammed into the cockpit of a spitfire again. If Harry was surprised in some way by Jack’s decision, he didn’t show it.
For the most part, Jack trailed behind Fionn and Harry while they made the decisions about where to go and what to buy. Jack spent a little bit of money at the café they stopped in for lunch but otherwise didn’t purchase anything for himself. He earned a little bit of an odd stare from Harry for that, but it didn’t seem to warrant an actual comment, so Jack shrugged off the flash of annoyance that briefly overtook him when he noticed Harry’s disdain and trudged on.
It wasn’t until they were on their way back to the hotel that Jack started to feel poorly.
“You didn’t have to come with us,” Harry argued, as though by simply mentioning his headache Jack had levelled an accusation at him for causing it.
“I was fine before,” Jack tried to explain. “I just need to lay down for a bit, I think.”
“What about the pub?” Fionn interjected.
Jack shook his head. “Suppose I’ll have to miss out this time,” he muttered, one hand already pressed against his left eye, where it felt like there was a dagger inside his skull trying to burrow its way out.
Harry examined Jack’s face as they stood on the corner of the street, waiting to cross, and his face creased into a concerned frown. “You should stay in my room,” he said unexpectedly.
Jack brought his hand down and squinted back at Harry. “I have my own room,” he pointed out.
Harry breathed out a soft, little sigh. “I know. But you should stay in mine while we’re out.”
“But…why?” Jack wondered as they finally crossed to the other side of the street where their hotel stood waiting.
“Because there’s a present in my suitcase,” Harry said meaningfully.
Fionn barked out a laugh like he already knew exactly what Harry was talking about, but Jack just continued to stare, as befuddled as ever. Harry sighed again and shook his head, reaching for Jack’s hand and dragging him toward the lifts without so much as a warning.
“I’ll meet you at the pub,” Harry called back to Fionn who gave a little wave before heading over to the stairs to take the quicker way up to the rest of their rooms on the first storey.
Jack already knew Harry’s suite was on the top floor and that he’d paid for it out of his own pocket instead of using the per diem they’d been allocated for food and lodging. Jack had yet to step foot inside, but evidently that was about to change in a minute.
Jack leaned against the back wall, head still throbbing as he waited for the lift to finish its ascent. Harry had let go of his hand once they’d stepped inside, but he grabbed for it again once the doors opened, tugging Jack along with him down the corridor to a door near the very end. He swiped his card quickly and pushed the door open before standing aside so Jack could go first.
Jack’s initial impression of the suite was that it was very large: at least twice the size of the cramped hotel room downstairs that he’d been staying in the for the duration of filming so far. Jack hadn’t had any complaints about his own accommodations, but now that he had a chance to survey Harry’s, he could understand why he’d spent the extra bunce on the upgrade. It wasn’t like Harry’s wallet was hurting for it, at any rate.
There was a large mirror over the bed that caught Jack’s eye as he took another step forward. Jack glanced up at it sceptically for a moment before looking back at Harry. When he caught sight of the look on Harry’s face, he decided not to comment on that feature after all and turned his attention to the rest of the room instead.
“Think I would have agreed if you’d just told me about the sofa,” Jack remarked, nodding toward the massive piece of furniture in question, which happened to be positioned just perfectly in front of the small air-conditioning unit in the wall.
“Make yourself at home,” Harry told Jack before bending down to rummage through one of the bags placed on the floor at the foot of the bed.
Jack watched him for a few seconds before turning back around again and moving over to the aircon to switch on the fan. He plopped down on the sofa and laid back against the cushions, closing his eyes and allowing the rush of air to ease the beginning tendrils of the migraine he could feel building rapidly inside his skull.
Jack wasn’t expecting the touch of Harry’s fingers against his lips, but it was like all the energy had gone out of Jack as soon as his arse had touched down on the sofa. He didn’t react to the strange sweet Harry had placed in his mouth for several seconds, until the taste finally caught up to him as he pensively chewed. Jack’s eyes flew open, connecting with Harry’s in a flash of realisation. “You didn’t bring those on the plane with you?” he asked incredulously, still chewing the fragrant jelly for a moment before finally swallowing. He gratefully accepted the bottle of water Harry handed him after and chugged half of it down in one go.
Harry shook his head. “I know a guy who knows a guy who knows another guy,” he said with a half-smile. “I prefer the, ah…more natural remedies for anxiety, but it’s hard with travelling, you know?”
Jack nodded even though really he had no idea. He’d never done much travelling before Dunkirk, and he certainly wasn’t a frequent imbiber of anything except nicotine. And speaking of which, it had been a while since his last fag, he realised. Maybe that was the reason for the headache.
“You should go join the others,” Jack told Harry as he made himself comfortable on the sofa. “You don’t mind if I stay here a bit? It’s a very nice sofa.”
Harry shook his head. “Stay as long as you like,” he replied. “There’s complementary room service if you want something to eat.”
Jack nodded and allowed his eyes to drift closed again. “Cheers,” he said drowsily. By the time Harry had left, Jack was already asleep.
Which was what had led them here. To Jack still lying on Harry’s sofa, now wide awake, while Harry was apparently wanking himself off in the bed even though Jack had been sleeping just a few yards away.
Jack angled his head back a bit further and rolled to the side ever-so-slightly—not enough to make any noise and disturb the scene taking place in the centre of the room, but enough to give him a better glimpse of the reflection in the overhead mirror.
Once the bed was fully in view, Jack could see that not just one but three of his co-stars were naked on top of the sheets. He pressed his fist against his mouth, curbing any unwanted sounds of surprise that might have emerged against his will after discovering that the heavy breathing he’d initially attributed to Harry masturbating actually stemmed from a far more startling source.
Harry was sandwiched between Fionn and Tom, his arse pressed against Fionn’s hips while his head was buried between Tom’s thighs, the blonde lad’s legs thrown up fully over Harry’s shoulders. It became obvious after a few seconds that he wasn’t sucking Tom off but doing something else entirely, and Jack closed his eyes as a reflex, suddenly realising that he was watching something he had no business looking in on.
Unless Harry had meant for him to see it.
And there was every possibility that was the case if what Jack had learned about Harry over the past few weeks was any indication. Jack wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t tell when he was being flirted with, even when the person doing the flirting was ostensibly so out of his league they were in different galaxies. Jack had never returned the attention in kind, of course, but that hadn’t seemed to discourage Harry any. He was unusually persistent.
Fucking two people in front of the object of your affections was a new tactic by Jack’s standards, however. Was he supposed to feel jealous? Bitter that he hadn’t taken Harry up on his many offers? Jack couldn’t parse the motive behind it.
And when he opened his eyes again, he couldn’t take them away this time.
Fionn was pounding into Harry with a surprising amount of force, his slender frame belying the way he was fucking him like Fionn was trying to make Harry come apart. Judging from the muffled noises emanating from Harry’s mouth, he was succeeding, and it wasn’t too much longer before he pulled out of Harry with a groan, his hand flying over his cock as he came in ribbons into the hollow of Harry’s lower back.
Jack held his breath and held very, very still, now battling his natural physical reaction to the scene taking place in the mirror in addition to everything else.
It only got even harder (both literally and figuratively) when Fionn flopped down beside Tom and curled his fingers into Harry’s hair, tugging his head back so that Jack could see exactly what Harry had been up to between Tom’s legs.
“You aren’t teasing him, are you?” Fionn asked, his voice sounding almost too loud even though it was barely more than a whisper.
Jack was transfixed on Harry’s swollen mouth, the slickness of his own spit shining in the mirror on his jaw as he shook his head.
“You want me to make him come?” Harry asked in a small voice, and it was strange for Jack to see them like this when their dynamic was normally one of Harry doing everything in his power to annoy the shit out of Fionn when they weren’t meant to be working.
Right now, he looked like he might do anything Fionn asked of him. Would do it. Happily.
“Be nice about it,” Fionn suggested before releasing Harry’s hair.
Jack watched as Harry brought one of his hands down from where it had been curled around the back of his thigh, tight enough to leave the imprints of his fingers on Tom’s skin. He moved it up between Tom’s legs toward his own mouth, and Jack had gone down on enough girls in his life to guess exactly how Harry was putting it to use.
Jack’s eyes trailed to Tom’s face for just a moment. The lad was pretty, sure, but he didn’t draw Jack’s attention the same way Harry did. Jack wasn’t sure why that was—wasn’t sure he even wanted to know. He switched his attention back to Harry instead, the way his head moved as he made Tom come with a loud cry. Jack wondered if he had a lot of practice going down on blokes like that, or maybe girls too, or if he was just that good with his mouth.
When Harry pulled away again, Tom’s cock was soft against his groin, a splattering of white coating his skin.
Fionn sighed and drew his fingers through Tom’s hair, jerking him suddenly out of a state of near-unconsciousness.
“Did you come, too?” Tom asked in concern, glancing down between Harry’s thighs as he knelt on the bed on all fours, his groin out of view still for Jack, who was curious to find out the answer for himself.
Harry nodded. “Earlier,” he confessed. His cheeks went a bit pink. “When Fionn was fucking me.”
“Good boy,” Fionn said unexpectedly, and Jack had to close his eyes again when Fionn leaned forward to connect his mouth with Harry’s.
Closing his eyes didn’t do anything to dispel the sound of it, loud as a gunshot in the otherwise silent suite. Jack could still hear Tom’s breathing, heavier than the other two, and then the bedsprings creaked as someone shifted their weight. Jack resisted the urge to open his eyes to check to see who it was. If he was caught, he wanted a bit of plausible deniability at least.
“Shower?” Fionn suggested.
Tom let out a soft murmur of affirmation while Harry remained silent, perhaps conveying his agreement nonverbally. Jack waited until the bathroom door closed and the sound of the water started before suddenly jumping to his feet and turning to leave.
He didn’t make it one step toward the door.
Harry was still laid out on top of the bed, his eyes the size of saucers as they connected with Jack’s from the other side of the sofa.
“I didn’t—” Jack said, not even sure how he was planning to finish the sentence.
Harry stared at him a moment longer without speaking before finally opening his mouth. “Did you like it?” He didn’t wait for an answer before climbing out of the bed and circling around the sofa to meet Jack face to face. “You’re hard,” he pointed out, as though that was answer enough.
Maybe it was.
“I’m not gay,” Jack protested weakly. It was hard to keep his eyes on Harry’s, to keep them from drifting lower to where Harry’s tattoos stood out starkly against his skin, and beyond.
Harry’s eyes were dark, the pupils almost completely eclipsing the green of his irises. “I’m not asking you to be.”
“Then what are you asking for?”
Jack’s mouth went dry when Harry moved even closer, putting only centimetres between them before he put his hands on Jack’s shoulders and pushed him back down onto the sofa. “You remember what you said to me? When I wore that pink blouse to our first table read?”
Jack remembered, but he didn’t want to. Not now.
“You said it made me look pretty,” Harry said softly. “’Like a girl’.”
“Most people wouldn’t have taken that as a compliment,” Jack pointed out. But Harry wasn’t most people.
Harry didn’t answer as he knelt down, still completely naked and streaked with both Fionn and Tom’s come, between Jack’s feet. “Will you let me?” he asked, eyes wide and searching. “Can I?”
Jack found himself nodding as if possessed by some force other than his own. His hands felt numb as he balled them into fists against the sofa cushions while Harry undid his trousers before pulling them down along with his pants, exposing his cock to the air. And then it wasn’t exposed anymore, as Harry took him in without warning, pulling a sharp gasp from Jack’s lungs with the first swipe of his tongue.
“Shit,” Jack blurted out almost immediately, when the warmth of Harry’s mouth was unexpectedly counteracted with a peculiar coolness, like that of minty gum. “Did you gargle mouthwash or something?”
“Might’ve,” Harry said, pulling off just to answer before sinking his head back down onto Jack’s cock again. He didn’t so much as flinch when it hit the back of his throat, and Jack allowed himself a moment to think, rather rudely, that maybe the lads he’d gone to school with might have had a point when they joked in hushed voices about how the boys in theatre sucked cock better than the girls ever could.
Harry sucked cock like he would die if Jack didn’t come down his throat, and Jack was certain within seconds that such an outcome was an inevitability. It probably would have been easy to close his eyes and pretend that there was a woman knelt in Harry’s place, but some part of Jack didn’t even want to consider that option, the same part that stared down at Harry without blinking, his mouth slack as he watched Harry’s lips stretch around the base of his cock.
Jack had never really been one for blowjobs even in relationships, preferring to give pleasure rather than receive if it wasn’t a situation where they could both get off together, but watching Harry now was making him reconsider a lot of things. It didn’t help that he could clearly tell Harry was hard and dripping onto the floor without being touched, just from having Jack’s prick in his mouth.
Harry didn’t make much use of his hands except to brace himself as he deep-throated Jack, but he wasn’t overly showy about any of it. The goal was clearly to get Jack off, and it was working, the menthol adding a slight edge to the heat of Harry’s mouth and throat that had Jack’s balls drawing up far earlier than he would have liked. He hadn’t come this fast since he was a teenager.
But there was no help for it. Jack grabbed at the back of Harry’s head, looking for stability rather than trying to force him deeper, but that was how Harry interpreted the gesture as he sank quickly back down to the base again and swallowed around the head of Jack’s cock several times in quick succession.
Jack released a sharp exhalation like he’d been punched in the stomach and curled his fingers even tighter in Harry’s hair, only peripherally aware that he was probably hurting him even though Harry made no effort to pull away.
Jack came hard enough to see stars even though he’d gotten off just that morning. Harry’s mouth really was that good, as it turned out. He let out a quiet grunt as he spilled into Harry’s throat, holding still as Harry carefully swallowed everything he had to give before finally pulling off with a gasp.
Somehow, Harry looked none the worse for wear despite having been fucked from both ends in the span of less than fifteen minutes. There wasn’t much to indicate that he’d just had a cock down his throat except for the redness of his lips, but Harry’s lips often looked like that anyway when he hadn’t been in a makeup chair on set. He seemed oddly serene as he sat back on his haunches before sprawling out on the rug, reminding Jack of a vaguely erotic renaissance painting.
“Do you want me to…?” Jack gestured vaguely at Harry’s cock, still bobbing between his legs just as hard as before. Now that Jack had caught his breath again, he realised that Harry had made no attempt to get himself off and started to worry that he’d missed some sort of cue to reciprocate.
Harry just gave a simple shake of his head. “You should probably go,” he said instead. “Tom and Fionn’ll be out soon.”
Jack nodded. Harry was right. He’d taken enough of a risk even staying as long as he had. He got up from the sofa and tugged his jeans back up onto his hips, avoiding meeting Harry’s eyes as he made his way to the door.
Once he’d stepped through, Harry right behind him and still naked as the day he was born, Jack contemplated spinning back around, saying something, doing something. But by the time he mustered up the courage to turn his head, Harry had already shut the door between them.