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a river for a soul

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Liam makes his way to the bedroom, shucking off his shirt. He leaves his track bottoms and boxer briefs on. It's not that he's shy about nudity, but there's something about a gradual reveal that he's always liked from both sides.

Harry, on the other hand, is sprawled naked on the bed when Liam arrives. Right. Liam had somehow forgotten that Harry's natural state involves no clothes, and that even when he's wearing clothes, they're often unbuttoned or see-through. It's like clothing is allergic to him.

"Well?" Harry says, pumping his cock with his hand. He's...well, huge. Liam knows how big Harry's hands are, and Liam has seen Harry's cock soft many, many times, and it's still somehow a shock about how big he looks erect. "Get your kit off. You're behind."

Liam can't help himself; he laughs, curling his head toward his shoulder. "You want to watch?"

"'M usually the one being watched, actually." Harry smiles dreamily, so Liam makes a point to stare at Harry jacking himself off. A flush starts on Harry's chest - lord, he's fit - but his dark eyes are fixed on Liam.

Liam winks at Harry. (Well, as best he can, which is actually close to a real wink these days. One eye even stays partially open. Practise is paying off.) He turns and lowers his track bottoms slowly, looking coyly over one shoulder to get Harry's reaction. It's not like Liam's known for his arse, but he's fond of it, and it always looks better partially clothed.

"Can't you go faster?" Harry asks, voice deeper, but he still sounds happy.

Liam laughs again. "Can't you be patient?"

"Not when there's orgasms on offer."

That's what's strange about getting off with one of your mates after years of friendship. You know things. Liam probably knows more than most friends know about each other thanks to buses and, early on, shared rooms. He and all the other lads have heard just how long Harry likes to drag it out before he comes. He's also seen the bruises Harry's accumulated after lengthy wank sessions or nights tucked away with someone.

So, while Liam turns around, he lowers his boxer briefs very slowly. He's getting harder from the act of it as well, the feeling of fabric dragging on his cock, the way he's getting Harry's intense stare in a completely new area of his life, knowing that Harry's getting a new perspective on old territory as well. It's all strange, but in a good way.

When he finally gets the boxer briefs low enough, and his cock slaps up against his stomach, Harry groans and turns over into a pillow to muffle some of the sound. Liam grins as he kicks off the rest of his clothes.

"You have to fuck me," Harry says when he resurfaces.

"I wanted you to fuck me, though."

"Plenty of time for that later."

Liam would object, but Harry tucks his knees in and presents his arse, and there's no starting an argument when Harry's already won. Liam comes close enough to the bed to give Harry's arse a good pat; it's meatier now than in the past, and Liam enjoys the jiggle with the impact.

"Just a mo'," Liam says. He goes just outside the connected loo and swings the door partially shut, revealing a mirror on the other side. He adjusts the door until he can see Harry in the mirror, backs up to the bed to properly see the view, and goes forward to adjust it again.

Harry whistles admiringly as Liam gets it just right. "Cheeky monkey."

Liam shrugs. He knows what he likes, and judging by the way Harry studies his reflection as Liam goes back to the bed and pulls out the lube and a condom from the end table, Harry likes it, too.

"Don't need much fingering," Harry says as Liam climbs on the bed and pops open the lube bottle. "Couple of fingers are enough."

"Don't want to hurt you."

"I'll tell you if it isn't working, don't worry."

Liam finishes slicking up his first two fingers and trails one around Harry's hole. Harry hums happily when Liam eases his finger inside.

"There's days I want to be fingered until I cry," Harry says, "and there's days I want to be pounded into the mattress. Sometimes I want both, but just one today, I think."

Liam leans in closer to Harry's ear as he works his finger inside, and he says, in a low voice, "Good. Because I want to do the pounding." The effect would be ruined by the embarrassed flush in his cheeks, but Harry's head is turned, thankfully.

He adds a second finger, and Harry twists his head, hair spilling to the side.

"Do you like hair pulling?" Liam asks in a casual voice. "Fancy getting a handful in a moment."

Harry groans in reply. Liam follows the direction of his gaze and sees Harry staring at them in the mirror. He meets Harry's eyes and smiles, and it's comfortable, knowing their tastes work together here. It's like how Liam feels onstage with him, but with more erections involved.

"I'm ready," Harry says, pushing back against Liam's fingers. "Want your cock."

Liam nods and slides his fingers out. He maybe fumbles the condom a bit, but he makes himself take a breath and keeps his lube-sticky fingers away from the latex while he's getting everything sorted. Not the smoothest he's ever been, but he knows from experience that he needs lots of practise with someone to really look good.

He lines up with Harry's hole and pushes in. Harry's tight around him and groaning, working his cock with one hand as Liam's hips connect with Harry's arse.

"Fuck," Liam breathes. "Fuck, Harry, you're..."

"You too, Liam, god."

Liam drapes himself over Harry's back and looks at them in the mirror. They're messy and awkward and beautiful in the way people are during sex. Their tattoos seem more prominent now than ever before; Liam can't stop staring at the chevrons on his own arm in particular.

"Can..." Harry takes a sharp breath as Liam tests his hips, grinding slowly. "Can we get to the pounding yet?"

Beads of sweat have broken out on Liam's forehead, but Liam says, "Shush," and gives himself some time to adjust. Harry's clenching around him with every stroke, and it's so much. If Liam didn't have some experience under his belt, he wouldn't get a chance to go hard because he'd come too fast for it to be a possibility.

Harry, unsurprisingly, has slowed his hand on his own cock. Liam can kind of see it in the mirror, the way Harry's playing with himself, touching lightly, getting harder and then backing off until he isn't straining quite as much.

"Want to know how you do it," Liam manages to get out.


Liam slides a hand over the one Harry has on his cock, resting for a moment. "How you can take your time."

"Says the man who took a lifetime to strip." Harry lightly bats his hand away. "Now fuck me."

Liam looks at them again in the mirror. Harry's gaze meets his, and he's smiling that lazy, just-napped smile that Liam likes so much. Liam looks purple and like he could snap like a twig if he doesn't move in Harry soon, but it's all worth it, if Harry looks like that.

"Okay," Liam says, and he pumps his hips hard as he brushes aside some of Harry's hair. (As much shit as he gives Harry in interviews about it, the hair really is beautiful.)

Harry throws his head back and gasps. "You said...god. You said you'd grab it."

"Really?" is all Liam can manage to get out back.

"Do it," Harry says firmly, and he groans loudly just when Liam shifts and threads his fingers through Harry's hair. "Please."

Liam tugs a bit, close to the roots. It isn't hard, but Harry groans and shudders and...yes, a check in the mirror confirms that's Harry coming, hand a blur on his cock as Harry shoots white stripes onto his stomach. Harry's watching in the mirror as well, forcing his eyes open every few seconds when they flutter closed.

When Harry's done coming, he sags, face dropping into the mattress. Liam forces himself to stop. "Should I...I can finish myself off."

"Don't you fucking dare."

Liam starts moving slowly again, and it almost hurts, the gentle drag when he's so close to coming. He's never thought he'd be thankful for a condom before, but it eases some of the sensation, he thinks.

"Hard, Payne," Harry says, still firm despite how loose his body's gone. He braces himself on his arms again. "I want to see what it looks like when you come your brains out."

Liam laughs despite himself, his reflection showing his crinkly face. "I don't think it's much of a show."

"It's one I want. Get to it."

He gets to it. Wouldn't last much longer if he wanted to, honestly. Harry is squirming a bit beneath Liam, but Harry's smiling in a lazy, contented way. Liam relaxes muscles he didn't even know he'd tensed, and somehow, that's what brings him close to the edge.

"Gonna come," he says.

Harry tilts his head toward the mirror to watch from there. But Liam closes his eyes. For all that he likes to see and be seen, he almost never comes with his eyes open, both because it's too hard and because it's one of the few things he allows himself to have. He lets himself feel when he comes, and it means Liam can feel every moment when he does feel, feel all the pleasure and connection and good sensations he doesn't often seem worthy enough to have. He's part of his body and distant from it, and this time, knowing Harry can see him is the only constant.

And then the pleasure from the orgasm fades, and his eyes are open, and he's on his knees, Harry on his back in front of him. The condom came off at some point, and Liam remembers feeling it, but he isn't entirely sure if he was the one who took it off or if Harry was. It's instinctual enough at this point that either answer is possible.

Harry holds his arms open for a hug, and Liam flops into them, humming happily when Harry kisses the top of his head.

"That was everything I hoped it would be," Harry says.

Liam burrows closer. He isn't very chatty after sex, but that's the beauty of it all; it gets across his thoughts just as well as talking. Maybe better.