Purple and white petals line the pews, the scent of fresh floral bouquets filling the air. Everything is perfect…well, besides the fact that Liam has been on the edge of what he is pretty sure is a panic attack, for the past twenty minutes.
It’s a chilly spring day, but the church suddenly feels stifling, causing Liam to pull at his collar, trying desperately to cool down. He really should've known better.
The day had started without incident, right up until Liam made his way towards the altar. He couldn’t get Harry’s stupid face out of his mind. The way he’d subtly watched Liam fasten his tie from under his long lashes, hands stilling on his own, not ten minutes ago. There was a heat to his stare that Liam never expected to be on the receiving end of. But, neither of them mentioned it as they took their places in line.
He’s halfway down the aisle when he forces himself to lift his gaze from his feet, only to find Harry eyeing him intently from his position on the podium, a smirk on his lips. That can’t be good. Liam audibly swallows back his building nerves and raises his brows in question, only to get a cheeky wink in return.
Harry and Liam are stationed to Robin’s right. Liam doing his best not to fidget, but it’s a losing battle with Harry pressed up against his side, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “Liam, were you just checking out my bum? That’s pretty naughty. Maybe I should tell mum, hmm?”
Luckily, none of the guests are paying them much attention as Harry starts to leisurely drag his fingertips, one by one, up the inside of his left thigh. Liam immediately grabs to still Harry’s hand, which was apparently invitation enough for Harry to twine their fingers together instead.
Liam holds in a breath, counting to three in his head, trying to will away the fact that he is now half hard in his trousers, shifting himself behind one of the huge flower arrangements sat next to him on the podium as camouflage. He'd really like to refrain from giving his nan a bloody heart attack on his mum’s wedding day if he can help it.
“We’re in a church you wanker!” Liam hisses as quietly as possible, all the while his face remaining impassive. He can see Harry’s cheeks dimple out of the corner of his eye, not even trying to hold back his grin, showing off all his pearly white teeth.
Even as he tries to calm down, he can feel Harry’s warm breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck.
“You know Liam, it doesn’t technically count as incest until they say ‘I do.’”
It takes all his effort to keep his eyes from going wide in shock, unsuccessfully attempting to inch away from Harry, needing to put as much space between them as possible. Even after all these years of knowing each other, Liam never has gotten used to Harry’s filthy mouth.
He knows his cheeks are becoming progressively redder as the seconds tick by, hoping if he ignores everything that’s happening, it’ll magically disappear. He’s also become hyperaware of the sweat droplets sluggishly making their way down his back, as Harry continues to all but nuzzle behind his ear.
“Babe, you’re looking a bit flushed. You alright?” Harry crowds in further in faux concern, while still managing to give him a once over.
To make matters worse, without warning, Harry presses his thumb against the fresh love bite he’d left right beside Liam’s birthmark the night before. His mum had just laughed and turned a blind eye to their roughhousing, chalking it up to them just being teenage boys. Though she missed the moment Harry pinned him to the floor, mouthing, “Looks like I win…You’re mine now, Li,” in his ear, sending sudden shivers down his spine, then proceeding to nip at his throat with a laugh.
No one had to know that Liam actually enjoyed it, that he loved feeling the sting when he pressed on the mark, watching himself in the mirror that morning. It was just another thing Liam was trying to ignore, like the ginormous crush he’s been harbouring on his soon to be stepbrother, since they first met.
Harry, however, has never had such qualms about their relationship, doing everything in his power to make Liam’s life as difficult as possible. Though, it’s not like Harry’s relentless flirting meant anything. That was just his personality. He’s pretty sure Harry would hit on a turtle if it looked at him the right way.
He thought that after over a year of impromptu cuddles, and kisses that landed just a tad too close to the corner of his mouth for comfort, he would be used to how hands-on Harry is. From the moment Liam and his mum moved in to the Bungalow, Harry basically made it his mission to be glued to Liam’s side. So he still shouldn’t be surprised to wake up to a sleep rumpled Harry in his bed, more often than not lately, having claimed he just hated sleeping alone. And if Liam happened to catch himself a few times (okay, maybe more than a few), watching Harry’s face, as his lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he slept, again, no one needed to know.
The touching had always been fairly innocent, Harry usually keeping his hands above the waist with a stern glance from Liam. Not that it ever stopped Harry from trying to slap at Liam’s dick whenever they’re left alone. Harry was always just having a bit of fun, not realising that Liam felt he would die soon from all the damn pining.
It really doesn’t help his situation that everyone thinks they’re actually blood related, even though Liam’s pretty sure that only thing they have in common is their curly locks; Liam’s dark brown eyes and tan skin in direct contrast with Harry’s bright greens and creamy complexion. He can only bite his tongue in annoyance when constantly asked if they are indeed twins.
Liam is startled out of that brooding thought with a sharp pinch to his bum.
“Hey Li, need a hand?” as Harry takes a significant glace at Liam’s crotch.
He had completely forgot about the half chub he was dutifully ignoring in his pants, forcing him to blush further. His smile is probably a bit manic now, but he can’t help it with the way his heart is pounding in his chest. He can only hope the guests accredit his behaviour to his excitement for the day rather than his possible mortification.
Luckily, Liam is given a reprieve when the music finally starts up and he can see his mum appear through the double doors at the back of the church. It seems to get Harry back to his senses, as he stubbornly drops the subject, as well as his hold on Liam, with one last squeeze, before resting his hands at his sides.
The look from Harry’s expression promises that this discussion isn’t over. But, for just a moment, Liam focuses back on the wedding; on his mum’s joyous face, and on how stunning she looks in her wedding dress, rather than the boy behind him and where their pinkies brush, their sole point of contact. Out of sight, out of mind, right? He still can’t get himself to move away.
The reception is absolutely beautiful: white linen tables encircle the dance floor, while even more purple petals paint their edges. After all of the courses are served and the cake is cut, barring the distracting sight of Harry deliberately fellating white frosting from his fingers, Robin and his mum are lost in their own little world, clutching one another, foreheads pressed together, slowly revolving around the dance floor.
Liam sits with his chin resting on his palm, distracted for a moment, feeling nothing but happiness and pride for his mum balloon up inside his chest.
Unfortunately, that feeling bursts when he catches sight of Harry. Suddenly, the pint he’s been sipping is unappealing, tasting flat and bitter. He didn’t mean to seek him out, but couldn’t help the way his eyes unconsciously flit around the room, spotting his head of curls in the sea of people.
The crowd parts and there’s no mistaking Harry chatting up one of Liam’s cousins, well second cousin, twice removed, not that it matters. Not that Liam cares. Harry is his brother now; he’s just looking out for his best interests.
At least, this is the excuse he gives himself when he practically sprints across the room, dodging couples as he goes, yanking Harry away from Anna (or is it Hannah? Liam has only met her a handful of times at family functions over the years. He’s not good with names, alright!), where he was combing his fingers through her long blonde hair.
Liam can tell that Harry’s had a few. Through his breathy giggles he can smell the sweet tang of the champagne that the waiters have been circling around the reception hall. Anna (Hannah?) looks furious at the interruption. Harry, on the other hand, couldn’t look happier, wrapping Liam bodily in a hug.
“Lee-yuuum! I missed you,” he crows.
Before Liam could even utter a word of protest, Harry literally climbs him, encircling his arms around his neck, doing his best imitation of a koala.
But, as quickly as he was there, with a peek at the huge clock on the wall, Harry jumps down and dances away with a hurried, “Oh! I almost forgot! Be back in a mo.”
In the blink of an eye, Harry is on stage, whispering directions to the band before clanking a new champagne glass against the mic stand, gazing expectantly out at the crowd.
“Hiiiii. I hope you’re all having a smashing time, but before my dear ol’ dad can whisk away his blushing bride, I’d like to dedicate this song to the lovely couple, as well as to that special someone, you know who you are…All the love.”
Liam knows that Harry has to be talking about any other person in the room. It’s probably just a coincidence that Harry’s barely broken eye contact during his whole speech. But before he could get anymore lost in his thoughts, that famous guitar riff fills the air and Harry begins to croon.
“I've been really tryin', baby
Tryin' to hold back these feeling for so long
And if you feel, like I feel baby
Then come on, oh come on
Let's get it onnnnn.”
Liam knows it’s all just a bit of fun, that all the gyrating and pelvic thrusting is just a gimmick, yet he still finds himself swept up in Harry’s aura, drowning in the gritty, beautiful depth of his voice. And he’s not the only one. The crowd is absolutely eating it up, entranced, cheering and singing along to the beat.
Before he knows it, the song is over, the lyrics reverberating through the subsequent silence.
“Ohhhhhh baby, lets get it onnnnn."
With a final bow, Harry exits the stage, making a beeline straight for Liam, ignoring all the cheers and back pats from those surrounding them. Liam is still standing in awe in the middle of the dance floor like a damn muppet, when Harry grabs him by the waist, shit eating grin in place on his lovely face.
“I think that performance deserves a dance, don’t cha think?” Harry murmurs into his ear as the band starts up again.
Liam had been trying to avoid being this close to Harry all night, tried to keep his actions strictly platonic, especially after what happened during the ceremony. But of course, one look into Harry’s eyes and he can’t help but get lost in them.
Even as the songs transition and the tempo speeds up, Harry keeps them moving at his own pace, not caring that they’re beginning to draw attention to themselves every time Harry tries to clumsily turn him in a pirouette. Harry really is a horrid dancer, pulling out some moves even MC Hammer would be ashamed of.
Liam knows he should pull away; offer to sit with his nan or chat with literally any of his other relatives, anything to get his mind off of the staccato of HarryHarryHarry beating in his chest. But every time he takes a step back, Harry just reels him back in.
It all comes to a head when Harry lifts Liam up from a dip with just a bit too much force, causing them to bump chests, the tips of their noses almost touching. He can’t breathe. As cliché as it sounds, it feels as if time has frozen, leaving them alone in the middle of the crowd.
Just as Harry is about to lean in, Liam barely comes to his senses, realising just what they were about to do (and in public, surrounded by family nonetheless!), jumping away as if he’s been shocked. He stares off to the side, trying to forget the look of disappointment that marred Harry’s face, even though it’s gone seconds later, replaced by a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
All Liam can do is stutter out the first excuse that comes to mind. “Uhhh sorry, I don’t think I’m feeling very well. Might’ve had too much to drink or summat. I think I’m just going for a bit of a lie down.”
It’s clear that Harry doesn’t believe him for a second. They both know Liam has always been such a shit liar, but thankfully he doesn’t call him on it.
“Oh, that’s rubbish. Maybe I should go with you, walk you up. Make sure you’re alright, yeah?”
Liam isn’t really sure how it all went pear shaped so quickly, but his mind is all over the place, and he can barely lift up the side of his mouth in pacification, as he tries not to trip over his own feet. He’s suddenly nervous that everyone is watching them, that they all must know his secret, because surely it is written all over his face.
“No. No. Don’t worry about it, Haz. I’m just a bit knackered, that’s all. Stay. Enjoy yourself. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he finishes with a chuckle that falls flat.
But, before Harry could even respond, Liam turns to duck his head, slipping through the crowd toward the exit, not even pausing to kiss his mum goodbye.
The hotel room is blessedly quiet. He rests his back against the door, taking a few steady breaths as he tries to collect his jumbled thoughts.
He’s supposed to share this room with Harry, but who knows, maybe he’ll end up pulling some bird and won’t come up to the room at all. He pretends that thought isn’t like a punch to the gut.
Not even in the mood for a shower, Liam strips down to his pants and climbs into bed, burrowing under the fluffy white duvet, trying to smother himself in the process. It doesn’t work.
He tosses and turns, looking over at the bright neon numbers of the clock on the bedside table, blinking steadily back at him. It’s barely half past ten, but his body feels exhausted. Hard as he tries, he can’t seem to forget what it felt like to hold Harry so close, or the faint scent of his woodsy cologne, or how pink his lips were from the way he was constantly licking them as they swayed closer and closer on the dance floor.
He can’t even remember nodding off, when he wakes to the feeling of a warm body pressed up against his back. He’s so groggy from sleep that it doesn’t immediately register who is in bed with him until long, slender fingers begin scratching lightly through the dark smattering of hair that leads down to his pants.
Liam lets out an involuntary groan, turning his head to stifle it into his pillow.
“No, I want to hear you.”
Liam instantly stiffens up at those words and tries to move away, remembering where he is and whom he’s with. His sudden movements only cause Harry to tighten his hold, nibbling gently on his earlobe as he drags his hands gradually up Liam’s chest.
Liam knows that he should stop this, that it’d change them forever, but it just feels so fucking good. His half arsed attempts to refuse Harry’s advances all but die off once Harry begins to whine his name like a mantra into his ear. Harry’s breathing shallows as he runs his nose along Liam’s neck, Liam unable to stop the soft whimper that escapes his throat.
Harry slowly rolls Liam onto his back, slipping in to the space between his open thighs, before grinding down, lining up their bodies, only a set of pants and trousers, keeping them from the feeling of skin on skin.
Harry rests his elbows on either side of Liam’s head, leaning up to stare straight into his eyes. All of the green has been swallowed by black, leaving barely a ring around his pupils. Liam’s breath catches as his eyes flit over Harry’s face, the way his hair has fallen across his forehead, the dim lights from the streets haloing his curls.
Liam reaches up, can’t help but trace the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the bow of his lips, unconsciously tilting Harry’s face towards his own. He is snapped out of the moment, when he feels Harry brush his tongue against the pads of his fingers.
Liam cautiously pushes up onto his elbows to reach Harry’s mouth, slotting their lips together in their first proper kiss. The kiss itself is just a gentle press, over in mere seconds, before Liam pulls away, his heart and his head still a mess.
“Harry…” Liam questions, lost for words.
Harry silences him with another kiss, this time with more force and purpose. He cups his hands around Liam’s face, tracing the crinkles by his eyes with the pads of his thumbs, a look of wonderment in his eyes.
“I know this might be improper or taboo or whatever, but you can’t tell me that this doesn’t feel right. I’ve tried to move on, see other people, but nothing works. I can’t stop thinking about you…It’s always been you.”
It’s in this moment that Liam can see the honesty there, his eyes darting back and forth between Harry’s, isn’t sure what to do now that he knows his feelings are being returned. He places his hands on top of Harry’s, trying to channel all of his emotions through that gesture alone.
And with a blinding smile and a wink, Harry seductively pushes away. Without breaking eye contact, he easily strips off his button down, only to then get tangled up in his ridiculously tight trousers (and of course he wasn’t wearing any pants!), before tumbling to the floor with a loud thud. Liam tries to trap the laugh in his throat, slapping his hands over his mouth, his body shaking with the effort.
“Heyyyyyyyy. It’s not funny,” Harry pouts at him in the dark, already crawling his way back between Liam’s legs. Though, Liam can tell from the tilt of his mouth and the tone of his voice that he is trying just as hard to keep a straight face. Soft giggles bubble up from his chest, setting Harry off to snicker helplessly into Liam’s neck.
And just like that, any doubts Liam had flew out the window; because this situation might not be perfect, but god does he love this beautiful boy.
Liam surges up to dance his tongue over the seam of Harry’s mouth, begging for entrance. It seems as if now that he’s started, he can’t stop. And through the underlying tastes of cake and champagne, there is something that is distinctly Harry and it’s this taste that he craves and never wants to forget.
“Can I?” Harry exhales, as he walks his fingertips just over the edge of his pants. And it’s with Liam’s responding nod that Harry pushes them down just enough to slip his hand around his cock
“Told you I’d give you a hand, didn’t I?” he chuckles, before kissing the mock scowl off Liam’s face, dragging his pants off completely, flinging them blindly across the room.
Harry starts to make his way down his body, laving at that love bite next to his birthmark, dragging the flat of his tongue over his nipples, rolling them gently between his teeth, then gradually trailing biting kisses down his chest. Liam knows that there will be a constellation littering his body by the morning.
Harry places a kiss on the insides of both his knees, carefully mouthing his way up his thighs. When he finally is faced with Liam’s cock, he seems unfazed, grabbing him at the base and sucking at the bead of precome drooling from the slit.
“Mmm, always knew you’d taste good.”
Liam’s eyes practically roll to the back of his head with how amazing it feels, barely registering before Harry takes him all the way down to the root. He can feel the flutter of his throat, as Harry tries to swallow around his cock.
Harry pulls off with an audible pop, wet and sloppy, wiping away most of the wetness on his chin with the back of his hand. It’s as he’s slowing wanking Liam that Harry licks at his other thumb before circling the pad of it across his hole.
Liam tries to ignore his cheeks beginning to burn, or the flush that is creeping down his chest from the foreign sensation. Though, he is mostly mortified by the dying animal sound that he makes in the process. He can’t tell if he wants to push closer for more or pull away. All of these different emotions are flitting through his head, causing Liam to slightly tense up, squeezing his eyes shut and clutching at the sheets.
“Hey, Li, look at me. I got you.”
And with a few deep breaths, he exhales and gazes at Harry’s open and thoughtful expression. Liam drags his hands through Harry’s curls, feeling the softness, scratching his nails against his scalp, and bringing him down for another kiss.
Nodding his head, “I trust you,” spills through his parted lips.
With a peck to his cheek, Harry links Liam’s right hand with his own, wrapping them loosely around Liam’s cock, building up a rhythm, and twisting at the head. Liam feels as if he’s been on the edge of overwhelmed since this all started, so he is embarrassingly close to coming already, as Harry’s left hand drifts down again between his legs.
All it takes is Harry biting his lip and fucking his tongue into his mouth to have him spilling over their joined hands. Harry kisses him through his orgasm, effectively stealing the breath from his lungs, before sucking his own fingers into his mouth, moaning around the taste of Liam’s come. Liam can’t help but kiss Harry around his fingers, tasting himself on his tongue, kissing him deeper just to chase the flavour.
Liam is sated and boneless as Harry looks his fill, taking in his debauched appearance; hair matted to his forehead, covered in sweat and com as Harry drags his dick across Liam’s stomach, leaving a wet trail in its wake. With the energy he has left, Liam scratches his nails down Harry’s back, pulling Harry’s earlobe between his teeth.
“Come on me. I want you to come one me,” falls from his mouth without even a second thought. All Liam knows is that he wants to feel it. Wants to know that he did this to him, that Harry is just as affected as he is.
And with a groan, Harry begins to frantically rut against his hip, using the remaining come on their hands to slick the way. He presses his face again into Liam’s neck, just breathing in his scent, before automatically remarking the love bite on his throat.
It’s only another thirty seconds before Harry starts to climax. Liam can feel his warm release shoot up his stomach, dribbling down his side to the now ruined sheets, Harry crying out Liam’s name against his mouth.
He knows that one of them should clean up, that pretty soon they will be sticky and uncomfortable, but with Harry’s body, a comforting weight on top of him, he can’t be arsed at the moment.
He doesn’t realise he’d drifted off until he feels warm, wet swipes of a flannel, followed by soft kisses all over his body. Even though there is a perfectly good bed on the other side of the room, Liam can barely get himself to roll over so that Harry can strip the sheets from the bed. At least he manages to crack open his eyes, crinkled with the force of his smile, as Harry drags the duvet up to their chins, immediately turning in Liam’s arms, and fitting himself to his body.
“You know I’m always the little spoon.”
Liam’s breath ghosts across his neck as he laughs, causing Harry to squirm, burrowing into Liam’s body heat. As they lay together, legs tangled underneath the covers, Harry’s little snuffles bumbling along with the AC, like a soundtrack to the night, Liam can’t find it in himself to be anything besides utterly content.
While the night might not have gone as planned, he takes a calming breath, smiling as he holds onto Harry just that much tighter, feeling as though this is exactly where he’s supposed to be.