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perrie laughs like morning and harry sounds like snowstorms when he comes. it’s a fitting combo, really. zayn isn’t sure where he fits into the equation, a ménage á trois, but he knows he does. he’s the sharp edge of teeth, he is a blunt at 2am, but he is also a cup of tea when the sunlight peeks through their blackout curtains and the gentle drizzle of a warm shower.
they creep up on him, which isn’t surprising in the least. there’s a loud giggle from behind him, hands are gripping against his temples, blocking his view, and suddenly he’s pushed onto the ragged couch in their shared flat, fabric rough against the small of his back where his t-shirt has ridden up. there are small palms pressing into his chest, and a distinct smell of floral reaches his senses, heightens the sensation of her. but there’s also an echo of leather and cranberry lingering around the edges of his periphery, and of course it is, because there are two of them.
“do you trust us, zee?” she says, voice filled with all the things she’s not saying and that’s always been the way, hasn’t it? it’s up to him to decode her, take her apart and put her back together.
he remembers the first time they fucked, her skirt rucked up around her hips and panties just stretched to the side, his cock disappearing inside of her. she had clenched around him, and when he tucked a finger into her arse, she came apart at the seams, shivering against the side of his neck.
he made her breakfast the next morning. harry came along a few months later, and he was the last thing they needed to be complete. it not as if they were broken without him, but he amplified every feeling, every touch. they need his hoarse laugh, his big hands and the way he curls in on them when they’re spent and their hummingbird hearts has come to rest.
“trust you, pez,” he says, because it’s true and his mother raised him not to lie. his eyes are still closed, and he is so so tempted to open them when he hears the clashing of two pairs of lips above him, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing. perrie’s tits are right in front of him, and he has never wanted to put his mouth on her more than in this moment.
"you can't open your eyes babe," harry says from behind the couch, voice slow. "and no peeking until we say so," he adds. his voice sounds fucked out already, hoarse and deep all blending together.
zayn nods frantically, knuckles turning white as he grips the corduroy fabric under his palms . “wanna touch you,” perrie whispers, and he can hear her crouch down. her small hands go for his belt, swift fingers unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down as far as they will go, prodding at his bum to let her take them all the way off. she presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh, and he can physically feel his dick twitch at the attention.
“so pretty like this zayn,” harry says, and his hands are coming down the front of zayn’s shirt, rolling one nipple between his fingers. there’s a whine coming up zayn’s throat, but he stops himself, biting down on one of harry’s hands in front of his mouth.
and then perrie’s lips are around his cock, and he gets hard so fast it aches, filling up the space behind her teeth.
“you like that, zee? like it when she licks the head like that?” harry breathes, and zayn can feel his hard on pressing against the back of his head. having to keep his mouth shut and also not being allowed to watch drives him into sensory overload, hummingbird heart picking up the pace and redness coming up and coloring his cheeks.
he comes with a groan, harry’s fingers muffling the sound. everything is too close, the feeling of two bodies all around him almost too much.
“you can open your eyes, zed. you can talk too, if you wanna.”, perrie says, catching harry’s gaze and pulling the other boy down for a kiss. zayn can see them trade his come between them, and the thought of them sharing his taste makes him want to go again. like, right now.
“so good to me, haz. love you pez,” he says, brushing his hand over perrie’s tits. she’s not wearing a bra, but then again she never does, never when it’s just the three of them.
harry laughs, almost a giggle at this point. he hasn’t come yet, and he’s had to unzip his trousers and take his cock out, head red and glistening with precome. he’s got a hand wrapped around his cock, slow strokes just to tease. perrie leans in just as zayn stands up, wobbly legs threatening to give out. she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and reaches behind her, grabbing at harry, never wants either of her boys to feel like she loves them less.
harry grabs zayn’s hand and pulls him towards the bedroom but perrie is already ahead of him, has taken a hold of harry’s cock and pulls him her behind her, their bright eyed girl leading the way. and that’s always been the way for them.
she lets go of harry’s cock as soon as they’re inside the bedroom, small hands shedding the clothes she’s got on, t-shirt strewn across the back of an armchair, skinny jeans in a heap on the floor. a pair of black lace pants almost hit zayn over the head and he can hear and feel perrie's loud laughter when he holds them up in front of him, as if inspecting the quality of the fabric.
"you're such a nerd, oh my god." the laughter is still evident in her face, and when he meets her gaze it’s fondfondfond.
“hey, i wanted to take those off with my teeth,” harry whines, voice deep as he calls from atop the bed. he’s already stripped naked, hand lazily wrapped around his cock. “c’mere pez, want you to ride my face.”
perrie’s there in a second, tits bouncing when she crawls up to where harry is situated, and he shimmies down, positions himself between her thighs. he noses against the curls there, presses a kiss to the sensitive inside of her thigh. even if zayn can’t actually see when harry’s tongue touches her clit, zayn can see the shudder go through her body and she whines low in her throat. harry is always so eager to please, wants people to come apart under his tongue, his fingers, his cock.
with the ringing of perrie’s whining in his ears, zayn discards of his shirt, fingers clumsy and useless as he tries to unbutton the row of buttons on the front. it takes him a minute, and when he looks up again, perrie has grabbed a hold of the bed frame, hips stuttering against harry’s face.
it doesn’t take long for perrie to reach the edge, thighs clamping in on either sides of harry’s head, and she gives out a yell when she comes, head coming forward to rest against her forearms.
when she’s tumbled to the side and her chest isn’t heaving as badly, she turns to harry.
“you’re so good at that, haz,” it comes out a whisper. “love you,” she adds, because it’s true. zayn takes the time to walk on his knees towards them, doesn’t want to interrupt their moment. everything here belongs to him as well, but right now it’s harry and perrie’s time. when he reaches harry, zayn plasters himself against the other boy’s back, sweat clinging to his skin.
he shrugs, lacing his fingers with hers. “i like it.”
♡
it’s warm when zayn wakes up.
blinking awake, he can feel harry’s semi pressing against the small of his back and perrie’s tits are agonizingly close to his mouth. they fell asleep in a heap last night, and it feels so real and full of wonder that he barely wants to open his eyes and somehow make it fall apart. but then again, it would take a lot to make this come apart. squinting against the light pouring in through the window, he grinds back against harry. he wants to make him hard, want all of them to feel full of things that float.
harry groans when zayn presses back against him, and his hand comes up to pull teasingly at zayn’s nipple. perrie is still out, her lilac hair splayed out over the sheets. he knows she wants to get it cut, wants a cut similar to zayn’s and who is he to deny her that? he plans on getting lou to the apartment, will bribe her with babysitting hours and empty houses for a cut.
they’re not rich and zayn knows that. he doesn’t get upset the water gets shut off once every two months, like clockwork, and he has to get another tattooing gig and scrape together enough money to pay the bills. it still doesn’t feel uncomfortable. they have enough heat and love to fill whole stadiums. it’s alright.
“wanna wake her up?” harry whispers against the tan skin of zayn’s shoulder, and zayn doesn’t know how he ended up with these two brightbrightbright people that will hold him when he cries and cook for him and let him cook for them and wake him up with the skin of their palms pressed against his thighs, but he’s brave enough to appreciate every waking moment of it.
as zayn nods, harry slides out from behind him. he bends over and presses a kiss to the corner of zayn’s mouth, mouthing at the skin there. before zayn can return the kiss, harry slides even further down and rearranges his limbs around perrie’s pale legs, lets a hand roam up to grab a hold of zayn’s hand too. harry presses a closed mouth kiss to perrie’s clit when zayn attaches his mouth to one of perrie’s nipples, and he can feel it harden under his lips.
she comes as she blinks awake, and zayn has never seen anything more beautiful.
“shit, fu-, haz, please zed,” and she rides the sensation, body almost convulsing as she clenches around harry’s tongue.
“fuck. that- that’s,” she says, her voice sounds so fucked out and hoarse this early in the morning that zayn can’t stop himself from putting a hand on himself, finally relieving some of the pressure in his gut.
“lemme handle that, babe,” she says, directed at both of them. she lets them come on her face, tiny hands wrapped around the base of their cocks as she pumps them agonizingly slow. zayn buries his face in the crook of harry’s neck as he comes, come in thick stripes across her cheeks. she puts a finger in it as she leans away, and puts it in her mouth, tasting them together.
“make me breakfast,” she says, prodding a finger into zayn’s belly. he groans as he attaches himself to her. “later, cuddle now,” and of course he’s a cuddler. they knew from the start, really.
harry, being the the good boyfriend that he is, slowly stands up and takes a few tentative steps towards the kitchen. catching perrie’s gaze over his shoulder as he pulls on a pair of boxers, he mouths, “eggs?”
perrie nods towards him where she’s sprawled out under zayn, his face hidden in her chest. he’s snoring lightly, out like a light. she smiles, and puts her fingers through his hair. it’s a happy place here.
when zayn comes awake for the second time this morning, he’s alone. a shiver goes up his spine, and he reaches for harry’s briefs on the side of the bed, tugging them up his legs and looking around for a t-shirt. he finds another one of harry’s shirts with a logo on the front from a band that he’s never heard of. he tugs it on and makes his way into the kitchen, and the sound of skin on skin shouldn’t be suprising.
perrie is sat on the counter, harry is fucking into her and they both look so beautiful and disheveled that zayn can’t believe his eyes.
“can’t leave you two alone for fifteen minutes,” he says, smile on his lips. harry returns his grin, makes a show of thrusting deep inside her and staying there for a few moments before pulling out so that it’s just the head of his cock inside her and pushing right back in.
never wanting to give this up, wants to savour every moment of them, zayn walks behind harry and gets down on his knees, thumbs coming up to spread harry’s cheeks before he leans in and presses the wide of his tongue against harry’s hole. there’s a whimper from above him, and harry has stopped thrusting to readjust to the feeling of zayn against his arse.
“haz, don’t stop, please, so close,” perrie whimpers, and she pulls harry in closer before sneaking a hand between them and thumbing against her clit. they match a pace like that, zayn thrusting his tongue into harry when he sinks into perrie. perrie is silent when she comes, body wound tight like a bow. it doesn’t take long for harry to join her, thrusts turing erratic and desperate as he releases inside of her. zayn lets him fuck back against two fingers instead, and it takes almost all he’s got not to attach his mouth to the underside of harry’s balls.
“love you,” perrie says when her breathing has slowed down, and it’s heavy and true. zayn puts a hand on her thigh, thumbing gently against the skin there. harry is in between them and it’s fitting, somehow. they all slot together, like this is what they were made for. and maybe it is. maybe this is what they're here for.