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Reach Out And Touch Faith

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The tour wasn’t going that great. Everyone knew it. Maybe their fans were growing up, losing interest, or maybe their management just didn’t know how to properly promote a band that was now young men instead of teenage boys. Whatever the case may be, there was way too much drama and now enough downtime. Harry was overwhelmed. Truly and honestly overwhelmed. There was a ton of drama going on regarding Louis, not to mention the rumors going around that Zayn was coming back to the band. He’d also seen fans on his timeline on Twitter, as well as in his mentions, saying that someone wanted to shoot him or something? And that he did drugs? Him? The only thing he ever overdosed on was kale and juice cleanses, for Christ’s sake!

At least today they had some time off. He was back in LA, a place that was becoming more and more like home. He sighed, looking up at his house as he unlocked the door before walking in, letting his heavy bags fall onto the floor. Usually, Louis came with him, but with everything going on with Briana it had been decided by them all that him staying out of LA and going MIA was probably the best option at this point. Which meant that Harry was going to be staying here alone for the first time in quite some time and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle that.

The time ticked by slowly as he took a shower and changed out of his travel clothes, throwing on a pair of skin tight black jeans and a sheer top, unbuttoned down to his chest. He felt anxious. For once, the jet lag wasn’t even getting to him. He felt tired, sure, but he was too anxious to crawl into bed and nap for a few hours. It was already late afternoon, closer to evening than afternoon, really, so it was probably a smarter idea to stay awake. So.. he was going to go out. But… out where?

Unsure of where he was going, no real destination in mind, Harry pulled on a pair of his favorite boots, they were more worn out than the others, and left his house. It was hot out but not unbearable which was nice. Apparently it had rained before he had gotten here but there wasn’t much evidence of that aside from a few puddles here and there.

He ended up walking around town, doing his best not to be noticed. Oddly enough, no one really approached him. There was a small group of girls that had spotted him and asked for pictures, which he happily posed for, he even signed an autograph for one of them, but after that it seemed like no one was paying him any attention. It was a weird feeling, one he was no longer used to. He was so used to being in the spotlight, so used to having girls begging for pictures and paps screaming at him to look in their direction so they could get a quick pic of him. He didn’t hate it exactly but he still hadn’t forgiven the media for painting him as a womanizer for so many years. Sure, he slept with a person here and there but not nearly as many as the media was claiming. And he also didn’t sleep with all women. He actually preferred men. There was just something about a guy manhandling him that was so much more arousing than a woman asking him to do that to them. Don’t get him wrong, he enjoyed it, and back in the day he’d even been more dominant, but that was back when he was still trying to figure himself out while also trying to hold up his image for the media by the request (more like demand) of Modest!. These days, Harry would much rather be the one being fucked than doing the fucking. He figured it was because he was just more sure of himself, more comfortable.

Rounding a corner, lost in thoughts, Harry didn’t notice, at first, that the road he was now walking on was completely empty. A few more steps and he finally noticed, causing him to stop walking, curious and a bit unnerved. He blinked, a frown on his lips as he looked around before looking up at the building he was standing in front of.

It was a small church, one he’d never noticed before but he figured that had to do with the fact that the church was small and he never really walked around LA much by himself, especially when there was drama going on and there had never been more One Direction drama than in the last few weeks. Days, even. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed it because he hadn’t gone to church in years. Whatever the reason, he was here now, and he felt like he should go in. He couldn’t explain the feeling.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside, letting the door close behind him with a loud click. Inside, it was quiet and had a faint aroma of candles and… wine? No, probably grape juice. Did churches actually serve wine? That couldn’t be legal. Kids went to church. What was he doing here again?

Boredom and loneliness do strange things to a man, he thought, chucking to himself as he walked to the front of the church, long fingers brushing against the edges of the pews as he passed them before he sat down on the front middle on, right in front of the… what was it? An altar? Did Catholics call them that? Was this even a Catholic church? Curious, he looked up, eying the massive cross behind the podium with narrowed green eyes. It stood from floor to ceiling, imposing and, in some way, eerie. It made him uncomfortable to look up at it. Maybe he had watched one too many horror movies with Zayn on the tour bus.

Another pang of loneliness hit him and he sighed, looking down at his feet instead of at the cross, and he found himself starting to talk. Not to anyone in particular, just speaking out loud. Some might call it praying. Maybe the stress really was getting to him…

“I just want… I don’t know. Someone here with me. I don’t want to be alone. I still don’t do well with being by myself…” His voice trailed off towards the end, followed by a heavy sigh as he shook his head and stood back up. This was dumb. Why was he sitting in a church all alone when he could be out in LA doing something fun? Or home resting? Maybe that was what he should do. Sleep. Before he started talking to himself even more.

~ ~ ~


His eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly as he sat up to rub at them with the heels of his palms. He could have sworn he had heard his name. Nickname, really. One that hadn’t been used in awhile, but his, nonetheless. He looked around, nervousness making his heart flutter in his chest, stomach churning uneasily, but he didn’t see anyone. Weird, he thought, yawning and reaching for his phone to check the time. He pressed the home button on the iPhone and groaned, seeing that it was three in the morning.

“This is ridiculous,” he huffed, putting his phone back down onto his bedside table and rolling over onto his side.

Only to let out a scream when he came face to face with…


“What the shit is this?” he shouted, pushing away the guy that looked startlingly like himself, eyes wide as the guy started to laugh because they even sounded the same.

“Morning, Haz,” the man said, voice low and slow and… Christ, what kind of dream was this?

“Don’t... Who are…” He couldn’t get the words out, too stunned, his body hanging half off the bed, one hand gripping onto the headboard and the other stretched out and ready to shove the guy - himself - away again.

The younger version of Harry chuckled, licking his lips as he crawled closer to Hazza, gently grabbing his outstretched hand and tugging him closer. “Don’t be so shocked, Hazza,” he laughed, letting go of his hand when he started trying to pull away again. “This is what you wanted, right? Someone to spend some time with so you weren’t so lonely. Sorry it took me so long to get here. I had some things to take care of.”

Hazza just sat there, shocked, eyes wide, mouth hanging open as he stared at… Harry.

His hair was shorter, much shorter, but it was obvious who he was. Harry was… was Harry. Younger, of course, but still Harry. He was dressed in all black, sitting on Hazza’s bed leaning toward him, a hand coming to rest on Hazza’s thigh, just letting it rest there, and the touch was… was comforting, in an odd way, and gave the longer haired male shivers.

“You… I need… Go away. This. I’m dreaming.”

Harry laughed, giving the older man’s thigh a gentle squeeze as he leaned closer, his other hand slowly sliding it’s way up Hazza’s bare chest. Good to know he still slept naked in his later years… even if it really wasn’t that many years.

“What’s the difference between a dream and reality, really, hm?” he teased, curling his hand around the back of Haz’s neck and encouraging him forward, a smirk tugging at his lips as his voice lowered to a whisper. “Just because something is a dream doesn’t mean it can’t be real.”

Haz made a low noise in the back of his throat, feeling himself relax because what he said made sense. He was dreaming, sure, but… that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy this. Right? This is weird on so many levels.

“Let’s be honest, babe, you’ve always been a bit out there.”

The unexpected words, still in a hushed whisper, startled the older male and he pulled back slightly, about to ask how the hell he had known what he was thinking, but then he was pulled forward again and felt lips pressing against his own, softly, at first, just a tease. Exactly how he liked it. And it had been so long since he’d been able to kiss anyone and just… well… fuck it. Everyone had weird sex dreams every now and again, right?

Letting out another soft sound, Hazza moved his body, inching closer to the younger version of himself, closing his eyes and letting his lips part, body language submissive out of habit, arms slowly lifting to curl around Harry’s broad shoulders.

The soft kisses quickly became more heated, more aggressive, tongues twisting together and lips moving furiously against one another. Hazza’s body became flushed and hot, despite having no clothing and the blankets having been kicked to the ground earlier, and before he knew it he was tugging on Harry’s clothes, uttering a “please” beneath his breath. Harry just laughed quietly, the sound deep and dark in the silence of the night, and shoved Hazza down onto the bed, smirking when the older man let out a surprised squeak.

“Hush, Harold, we have all night. No need to rush,” he teased, soft fingertips trailing down his pale, inked body, tracing over the dips of Hazza’s v-line before Harry leaned down to place teasing kisses along the insides of Haz’s thighs, smirking against his twitching skin when he heard more quiet pleading coming from the older man. “What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

Hazza whimpered, legs spreading apart as his fingers began to curl into the sheets beneath him. However, he didn’t say anything, so Harry shook his head with a laugh, letting his lips ghost slowly over Hazza’s thighs, teeth nipping sharply at his skin before sucking a bruise right at the crease of his thigh. The older man whined, his toes curling, a blush rising on his cheeks as his head tilted back against the pillow and he finally blurted out, “Suck my fucking dick, you asshole.”

Harry snickered, placing a quick kiss on the butterfly tattooed on Hazza’s abdomen before lowering his mouth, kissing a trail down, down… until his tongue flicked against Hazza’s leaking tip, hands immediately going to grip his hips and pin then down as the older man cried out, back arching and body squirming. He continued to tease, his skilled tongue tracing patterns over the sensitive organ before licking from his balls back up to his tip, finally wrapping his pink lips around it and sucking, letting his tongue massage and flick against the underside of Hazza’s tip. The noises being released from Hazza’s mouth were heavenly, making Harry hum which, in turn, made the other man moan louder, fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that his knuckles at turned white.

Harry kept his eyes up, looking at Hazza as his chest rose and fell in heavy pants, sucking harder and hallowing his cheeks before slowly, teasingly, allowing his head to start bobbing. He removed one hand from Hazza’s hip, long fingers wrapping around what wasn’t in his mouth, stroking just as slowly, knowing that, the slower he went, the more desperate Hazza would become. He was right, too, of course, because as he started pulling his head back again, teasing just the tip once more, Hazza let out a sob and reached down for Harry’s hair, tugging and making the younger man grunt, releasing Hazza’s cock from his mouth with a loud pop and crawling up his body.

Their lips crashed together again once more and Harry moaned as his dick strained against his jeans, doing his best to remove his pants without breaking the kiss, making sure to remove the packet of lube from his back pocket before tossing the jeans to the side. He wore nothing beneath them, of course. When did he ever? He did have to pull away from the kiss to take off his shirt, though, so he sat up, hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt before tossing it to the side and grabbing the lube packet, giving another brief kiss to the man beneath him before tearing it open and coating three of his fingers in lube.

Beneath him, Hazza panted softly, eyes half closed and his legs still parted, eager, teeth pinching his lower lip as he held his breath, waiting. They made eye contact and time seemed to stop for a moment. Then everything was happening so fast.

There was a hand between his legs, a finger circling his hole as he moaned, nodding his head and trying to get Harry to hurry up, but he barely finished nodding before Harry’s finger was pushing past his tight rim, sliding in up to the knuckle, finding his prostate on the first try and making his body seize up, his cock twitching against his toned stomach and leaking pre against his already sweaty skin. After that, Harry wasn’t slow, nor was he gentle, pushing a second finger into him just seconds later. The stretch burned, it was painful, but it was so good and Hazza couldn’t take it anymore, he needed release, and he started to reach down to take his cock into his hand as Harry’s fingers scissored inside of him, stretching him open, but just as he started to move, Harry’s mouth was on him, more greedy than before.

“H, I can’t, I’m gonna.” The words tumbled quickly and incoherently from his lips, ragged pants and moans making his voice shaky, his hips pushing up, forcing his cock deeper into Harry’s mouth and Harry let him. He just took it, taking Hazza’s length down his throat while shoving a third and final finger into him at the same time, jabbing at Hazza’s prostate and rubbing roughly, literally forcing the orgasm out of Hazza.

The older man’s body locked up, lips parting in a silent scream as his body arch, legs kicked out and his toes curling almost painful, body shuddering and twittering as he came, his vision blurring as Harry swallowed everything, fingers still moving, still firmly pressed against Hazza’s prostate. He removed his mouth, licking his lips and wiping them with the back of his free hand, listening and watching and Hazza’s body squirmed, trying to get away from his fingers but then, just moments later, riding them frantically, nothing but moans and whimpers leaving his mouth. He was a beautiful sight, really, but Harry had more planned so he slowly slipped his fingers from Hazza’s now stretched hole, wiping them on the sheets as Hazza finally went still, panting, eyes closed.

“Oh, I’m not down with you yet,” Harry cooed, knuckles grazing over Hazza’s still half hard cock, making his hips twitch. “Turn over for me, Hazza.”

Despite being worn out already, his limbs shaking, Hazza scrambled to listen, heart hammering in his chest as he turned over onto his hands and knees, hand hanging between his shoulders as he presented himself, feeling completely exposed. He could hear the sound of Harry lubing himself up and stroking himself and he gulped, waiting impatiently.

He wasn’t prepared for Harry to grab his hips and shove into him with no warning, ripping a scream out of him as he rocked his hips back, forcing Harry’s length completely into him, their hips flush, and then he went still, gasping as he felt how big Harry was. No wonder his partners always complained of being sore in the morning.

Neither of them could hold still for very long. Harry pulled his hips back and roughly thrust back in, fingers gripping Hazza’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, and from that point on it was hard, fast thrusts that sent Harry’s tip almost directly against Hazza’s prostate with each movement. Their bodies fit perfectly together. Then again, why wouldn’t they? They were the same body.

And that thought was what had Hazza’s hurtling towards his second orgasm, moaning out Harry’s name, his own name, as his body continued to rock back, oversensitive and overstimulated but not at all willing to let it stop, and as Harry moaned louder in response, Hazza’s body gave out. His arm’s collapsed, his face burying against his pillow as he cried out, come spurting from his tip in thick ropes as he clenched around Harry, who was getting close to his release as well, but he wanted to make sure Hazza was well taken care of first, so he reached down, taking a fistful of Hazza’s hair and yanking on it, forcing him back up onto his hands and then tugging more, forcing his head to tilt back. Surprised and startled, the pain sending jolts of pleasure through his body, Hazza willingly let his body be used, body trembling. Mustering up his last bits of strength, he reached forward, gripping, like earlier, onto the headboard and shifting his weight, inhaling sharply when the new angle let Harry shove into him deeper, not even able to make any sounds as his body was jolted with every thrust.

“Harry, I can’t take it,” he gasped, despite the fact that his body was still moving with every thrust, his head still tilted back. Harry didn’t let him say anything else, silencing him with a harsh kiss as the hand not tangled in his hair reached around, gripping onto his cock which hadn’t been given the time to soften, stroking in time with each powerful thrust, but it wasn’t the touching or the dick up his ass that had Hazza coming a third time. It was the demand, the growl, in his ear in that low, rough voice.

“Come for me. Now.”

And he did. He cried out, his body jolting, stomach muscles clenching, his hand sliding down the headboard as his orgasm ripped through his overstimulated body. Harry came right after him, burying his face against the older man’s neck and sucking a bruise as he moaned, hips pressed flush again Hazza’s as he came inside of him. The feeling of being filled made Hazza blush, gasping for breath as Harry finally allowed him to collapse onto the bed, pulling out of him and rolling over onto his side.

Hazza managed to turn his head to the side, gazing at Harry, and they made eye contact but then, next thing he knew, he was asleep.

~ ~ ~

When he woke up, he was alone and well rested. He yawned, rubbing his eyes and glancing down at his body. It was clean. His sheets were also clean which, weird. He figured he would have woken up a bit… messy, considering the dream he’d had last night. “No more churches,” he muttered to himself with a chuckle only for the sound to cut off with a share intake of breath as he sat up.

He was sore. And, to his right, where his phone was laying on the bedside table, there was a note next to it. It was in his handwriting.

Sweet dreams, Hazza. All the love. H