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Niall scrambles to open the front door of his flat, giggling and a little more than tipsy, as the raucous laughter of his mates drive off into the night. It had been a great way to end an exceptional day--having rounds and rounds of pints at the pub, while he and his mates from Mullingar laughed constantly and exchanged stories about so many important and nonsensical things.
He had been hopeful when he woke up in the morning, had felt the vibe of positivity run down his spine. And his instincts had been so on point.
When he got to the guitar shop for his opening shift, his boss was already there, which is quite unusual because his boss never turns up as early. Niall was called into the office and was immediately given an envelope with money in it.
"Your last pay, son," the man tells him.
Niall's world shattered for a moment. He needed that job! How's he gonna pay for his share of the rent? How's he gonna buy food? How long will it take for him to find another job before his savings run out?
But the man continues, "You're going to me brother's studio. Remember him? Nigel? He needs a guitarist on standby and I know you know how to fiddle that baby in all the right ways."
While a rush of relief douses over him, he had remained speechless because, well, that's the best damn news! He'd always wanted to work in that studio ever since his boss had him run off to deliver a guitar there the first time when he was new to this job.
"Now, don't think I don't like you around here. I do. You're a hardworking fella and you actually know about your instruments, but I think you'd do better playing 'um strings than sellin' 'um. Don't you worry." The man pauses to wink at him. "Haggled a bigger pay for you. I think that'll convince you enough."
Niall shakes his head in disbelief. "Oh my god, Simon. I can't even. How do I. Oh my god, just. Just. I mean, thank you. That's. Thank you!"
He was then sent off to the studio just two blocks from the store, where Nigel had welcomed him and oriented him into his new job. That night, the reunion with his mates from back home was all the sweeter with this new development in his life.
He doesn't bother opening anymore lights than the dim ones already turned on in the kitchen. He goes straight to the fridge to chug a full glass of water. It was when the butt of the glass made a clinking sound against the countertop that he heard it: a soft but consistent whimper that came from somewhere in the flat.
Niall was drunk, of course. But he was sure he wasn't imagining it. His first thought was, 'did Zayn get a cat?' They'd be in a whole lot of trouble for that. The landlord specifically said no pets allowed. And then, his thoughts drifted into one of a more supernatural aspect. Except, he has lived in that flat with Zayn and Louis, and later Liam, for going on five years. If the damn flat was haunted, one would think it'd manifest the first night they moved in. Maybe there's a fucking murderer in there just waiting for him to come out of the kitchen. Maybe Zayn and Louis and Liam are all dead, their bodies hacked off and placed in a bloody pile in the living area.
What the fuck, Horan.
The ridiculousness of it all is what finally got him storming out into the living room only to be greeted with the usual and slight disarray of a place housing four men in their early twenties. And then, a soft moan that has him whipping his head so fast he almost got vertigo. It was coming from one of the rooms.
Was someone home? There shouldn't be someone home. Zayn had texted him earlier that he was kipping at his girlfriend's house tonight. Louis and Liam aren't supposed to be back from Doncaster until morning. Nevertheless, Niall listens in by the doors of each of his mates until he figures there was nothing in there but silence. So that means, the sound was coming from--.
His train of thought was cut off by a muffled long moan that had undoubtedly come from his own room. Jesus fucking christ.
Niall carefully twists the handle and slowly pushes it open, realizing immediately that his bedside lamp is turned on, which, again, should not be! The thing that completely takes his breath away, however, and has his hand letting go of the handle, making the door fall open completely, is what was on his bed. And what was on his bed was a guy not older than him. A guy whose wrists and ankles were tied to the corners of the bed frame. More notable is the fact that this guy was stark naked.
"Shit," Niall breathes out.
The guy turns to him then, his shiny eyes round and pleading. He tugs at his restraints and starts making desperate noises. It was only then that Niall realized that the guy's mouth was gagged with a balled-up sock. The guy unleashes a long whine, curving his back off the bed as he does so, that has Niall snapping out of his stupor. He quickly shuffles closer to the bed, to which his instincts dictated for him to remove the sock from the guy's mouth.
When the sock fell to the floor somewhere, Niall was instantly filled with doubt as to whether that was the right course of action; because as soon as the guy's mouth was free, he gives off a short whimper and a rough but soft "'m coming". And then a lusty moan escapes his lips as he fucks into the air and his thick, hard cock was shooting white all over his chest.
Niall watches as the guy shakes and twitches until the last spurt of his come, and his body has gone limp. Were it not for his heaving chest, Niall would've thought he'd died from the throes of his orgasm. The guy turns to him then, a long tear falling off the corner of his eye. "Please," he whispers.
"Fuck, yeah. Jesus, fuck. Sorry, yeah," Niall rambles as he went and jumped into action to untie him.
He remains still, however, even as the ropes leave his skin.
"What is it?" Niall whispers, afraid of startling the guy who was still crying in front of him.
The guy looks down, his chin dripping with tears and touching his chest between the two birds inscribed there. "'M all dirty," he practically mumbles.
Niall's eyes gravitated to where the come was slowly drying on the black butterfly of his chest. "Oh. Right. Wait here." Niall quickly goes to the bathroom to wet a flannel, and then even more quickly returns to his room. He stops short at his bedside, second guessing what to do next.
"Please?" The guy says in between his sniffles.
Niall nods. "Okay. Sure." He sits on the bed and gently wipes the guy clean, realizing finally how strange this all is. He's not had a chance to ask, really. But perhaps once the guy was clean and has stopped crying, Niall can get some answers.
Niall hears whimpering again and he stops to look up at the guy's face, worried that he's done something to hurt him. "I'm sorry, did I--"
"It's still on."
"It's still--. What's still on? What's happening?" Niall almost jumps off the bed, were it not for the guy clutching at his shirt.
"Please...please get it out of me." Before Niall could ask, the guy turns his back to Niall and pushes one knee forward. "Please get it out," he pleads again, muffled only by the pillow.
And Niall sees a small blinking pink light where his bum hole should be. It was also then that Niall realized that there was a faint buzzing sound coming from where the blinking light was. "Jesus fucking christ," he says softly, but goes to reach out for the light all the same.
As soon as he touches it, he can already feel the thing vibrating gently. With his thumb and forefinger, he holds firmly the end and slowly pulls the thing out, the guy whimpering as it slides out of his hole.
It was a purple vibrator that's about an inch thick and three inches long. It doesn't look much, but with how the guy came so violently earlier, it must have been one powerful sonofabitch. The battery's dying now, it seems, as Niall can barely be bothered by the throbbing it gives off. He wraps the slick-covered vibrator in the wet flannel and places it on the table.
The guy sniffles as he turned to looked at Niall again. His eyes are still a bit glazed, but there were no more tears flowing down his cheeks, so Niall figured he's gonna be okay.
"Sorry," the guy says.
Niall frowns. "What happened? Who did that to you?"
Instead of answering, the man shakes his head, rubbing his long brown locks against the pillow, and shooting his arms to round Niall's waist, burying his face in Niall's hips. Niall hears sniffing again.
"Hey," Niall starts soothingly, as he places a hand on the guy's damp, thick mane and strokes carefully. "It's all right. You're all right now." The guy whimpers and his grip around Niall's middle tightens. "What's your name, then?"
"Harry," he says against the side of Niall's trousers.
"I'm Niall."
Harry nods.
"I think you should rest now, Harry. We'll talk tomorrow, okay? You can stay in me bed and I'll sleep out on the couch."
"No," Harry wails. "Don't leave."
He sounds so pathetic, Niall can't possibly refuse. After signalling his assent, Harry scoots over to allow him to position adequately in the single bed. Immediately, once he's laid his head on the pillow--not removing his clothes, mind you--Harry snuggles closer and fits his temple on Niall's shoulder, tickling Niall's face with a full head of hair; his arm rounding Niall's middle again.
"You're so nice, Niall." Harry says in a low drawl.
"Hm," he says in reply, not really sure how to respond. He does, instead, move his hand up to scratch at Harry's nape, thinking that this would soothe Harry even more to sleep. Lord knows he could use a good night's sleep.
Except, Harry had something else in mind, if the way his hand was slipping under Niall's shirt is saying anything.
Niall's breath hitches as a warm hand skitters up his side. "What're you doin' there, Harry?"
Harry looks up to him then. "You're so nice. Wanna thank you."
"You don't--" Niall begins, but finishes with a hiss as Harry bites his jaw and licks a line along it.
Harry moves on to suck on the pad of his ear, while the hand on his side moves up to his chest, lifting his shirt in the process. "Lemme thank you," Niall hears.
Niall's already hot all over coming home from a night of drinking. It didn't leave him completely unaffected seeing a fit naked young man tied to his bed when he gets there. It's just the fact that this man, even though he was a bit bigger in built than him, looked so small--crying and whimpering as he did, tied down, and even more so while Niall was cleaning him up--that made Niall want to protect him, comfort him, soothe him; completely forgetting his own hardening cock and the need to get off.
But this. This makes everything different. He is fully aware of the naked boy pressed against him and kissing and licking his skin, touching him like he needs to do it for his own sanity; Niall's too pissed and horny to deny the progression of these events.
Harry pushes himself up on his knees, hovering over Niall as he lifts his shirt off and throws it on the floor. He proceeds to work on Niall's jeans and pants until those too join the shirt on the floor. He sits his naked bum on Niall's knobby knees and bends down to breathe on his flushed cock.
Niall sighs as Harry licks experimentally the already-wet tip. Niall can feel the pre-come bubbling from the slit but Harry makes sure none of it goes to waste. He then takes the shaft in his hand, cradling it in his palm, and licks up and down the length, occasionally kissing and sucking at the protruding vein.
Niall's jaw drops as his dick gets a thorough attention from Harry's full lips and expert tongue, breathing heavily through his mouth. Getting head when he's a little bit drunk is always something that Niall's found appealing. Unlike other people, Niall's senses are heightened when there's some alcohol coursing through his body. So his body creates goosepimples as Harry sucked at the skin of him.
When Harry swallows the head, it couldn't be helped for Niall to groan in extreme pleasure and his dominant hand to land on Harry's soft, sweaty hair. Harry seems to like this, as he moans around Niall.
"Fuck. That feels so good, Harry," he says roughly, mouth still fighting to gulp more air into his lungs.
Harry beams at the sound of Niall's voice praising him. He brings his mouth lower onto Niall, sucking hard on his way up. He does this repeatedly, taking more of Niall every time he does so, his hand stroking up and down in sync to the bobbing of his head.
Niall's using all his strength not to thrust his hip and potentially gag Harry in the process. But when Harry's other hand finds its way to Niall's balls, he knew that he was almost at the tipping point.
"Gonna come," he groans. Instantly, the warm, wet mouth is gone from his dick and the hand on it squeezes him so hard, he sees stars from the blinding pain of being denied.
"Not yet," Harry admonishes, voice scratchy like he'd been off singing songs all day. "Need you to be inside me."
And really, it's anybody's guess how Niall didn't come right then and there, with just those words pushing him over the edge. The thought is adamantly put on hold as Harry moves up and reaches past Niall under the pillow and pulls back with two square packets on hand--a condom and some lube. It's quite puzzling, really, how those ended up there, since Niall's certain he wasn't the one to put those there. It's not like he was going into a discussion about that right now, though.
Harry dutifully puts the latex on him and squeezes some of the lube over his cock, spreading it on his length. Harry scrambles to line his bum over Niall's erection, keeping it standing stiff.
"Ha-Harry," Niall hears himself say, his hands rubbing up and down the side of Harry's thighs. "Are...are you sure this is..this is okay?"
Harry smiles at him, then; white teeth contrasting the dark room and showing off deep, deep dimples that manifest themselves for the first time. "I haven't wanted anything as much in awhile." He sits slowly and Niall can feel Harry's rim stretch around the head. Niall watches in awe as his neck elongates and his chin reaches for the ceiling, a filthy moan spilling from his mouth. "Want you so much, Niall."
Niall holds his breath as Harry slides down his length, smooth and steady, his bum hole already slick and stretched from earlier. Niall breathes again when Harry's bum cheeks are flat against his hips.
"Feels good," Harry whimpers, his hips circling with a purpose; and Niall can't really be faulted for the echoing groan he lets out.
Harry suddenly surges forward and catches Niall's lips against his own, assualting him with an open-mouth kiss that's all wet lips and soft tongue. The kiss is so full of passion and hunger that it has Niall gripping on Harry's hips to make sure he doesn't lose track of reality. "Want you," Harry mumbles in between.
Niall enjoys kissing Harry very much, but three-fourths of his dick is inside this boy and there just isn't enough friction happening as he wants there to be, so he tightens his grip on Harry's hips to steady him and bends his knees up, feet flat on the mattress. Harry stops assaulting his mouth at the movement, long enough for him to whisper sultrily, "hold on, love," and starts dicking in and out.
Harry buries his face in the crook of Niall's shoulder and sobs, his hands grabbing Niall's hair. Niall doesn't lose his rhythm, thrusting up hard into Harry each time. The slick helping to achieve that delicious friction between tight hole and throbbing dick.
Niall is so, so close. He's been close for ages, it seems. His hips and knees begin to ache from the intense thrusting but he doesn't let up. Between the promise of going over the edge and the sound of Harry's muffled wailing next to his ear, he's got all the energy he needs to sustain.
He almost forgets that there's another cock trapped between him and Harry until he was reminded by Harry dipping his belly lower and pressing his hardness against his stomach. He thinks if maybe he was hurting Harry, but soon realizes that Harry was in need of much the same friction that he did. It must be painful, Niall thought, needing to come again after only coming not too long ago. But Harry seems so into it; so in heat that makes Niall want to just ravage him even more.
"Gonna--" was all of Niall's warning before he slams so hard into Harry that the boy surges at the strength of it, and he's coming hard, the condom catching runnels of his jizz.
Harry cries out as Niall slides out of him, but driven by his own need to come, he rubs his dick relentlessly against Niall's stomach, a whimpering mess. He comes with a force that could shake a tree house loose from its trunk, humping and pushing and circling his hips like he just can't take it. Like his whole body is hit by lightning. He slows down at last, but the shivering remains.
Niall hears sniffling, then. His arms carefully round the boy, hands resting flat on the bumps of his spine. "You all right, Harry?" Niall mumbles against his hair.
A sniff. "Mhmm."
"Can you move? Let's get us cleaned, yeah?"
Harry doesn't say a word; just gets off Niall and lays back on the available space of the bed. Niall carefully lifts himself up and carefully removes the condom off him, ties it up and makes to get out of bed to throw it in the bin by the door. He halts when he felt Harry scratch the dip of his back, turns to see a blissed out smile directed at him.
Harry doesn't say anything, but his lidded eyes spoke loads of what he wanted. And it seemed so easy for Niall to oblige that he goes to lean down, one hand holding him steady while the other clutched the tied-up condom, and kiss Harry softly on the lips. He intended for it to be a quick peck, but Harry had other plans, taking his face in both hands and gently introducing a tongue in an otherwise innocent kiss. Niall reciprocates, of course.
It was the disgusting feeling of cold, drying semen that has Niall finally pulling away and proceeding to finally throw the condom in the bin. He goes to grab the still-damp flannel from earlier, vibrator tumbling on the floor but left ignored, and rubs himself, then Harry, clean (or as clean as he could get them).
"Do you want me to go now?" Harry asks meekly.
Niall couldn't say that he wasn't taken aback. After all that happened here tonight, he never thought about throwing Harry out now. It's true, Harry's still a complete stranger, and Niall would really like to know how he ended up in his room all tied up and writhing with a vibrator up his bum, but he can wait until morning to hear it. Besides, it would be nice to sleep next to a warm body for the first time in a long while. But, "only if you want to," he tells him.
There was a pregnant pause, and Harry looks like he's genuinely contemplating whether he wants to leave or not. Looking at him like this, Niall wonders even more where he came from. And how old he is. He's definitely bigger than Niall but his eyes, which have been wet for the most part, seems so young.
"I'd like to stay please."
Niall smiles unwittingly, like he couldn't even help it if he tried. "Okay. Now scoot over." Harry does, and Niall climbs onto the bed.
"Can I be little spoon?" Harry asks so softly that Niall almost misses it.
"'Course."
Harry flips to his side, back facing Niall, as Niall automatically wraps his arms around him--one arm fitting under Harry's neck, hand resting on his chest, the other around his waist, scratching his belly. They cuddled as such, quiet, with only their gentle breathing lulling them to sleep.
Niall's not sure how long it's been, but he's on the verge of fading into sleep when Harry speaks. "Hey, Niall?"
"Mm?"
"Did you like it?"
"Yeah."
Harry makes a pleased squeak and presses back to get closer to Niall. "'M glad," he says, as Niall holds him tighter.
A second passes before Niall hears another, "hey, Niall?"
"Yeah, Harry."
"Happy birthday." His voice softer and almost distant, slowly falling into a pit of deep slumber.
Niall's eyes shot open. "What? How did you--"
"They'll be so happy you liked your gift."
Niall tenses because, what? But Harry didn't seem to notice as he continued to ramble on. "Was scared you'd be angry I came too soon before. That was bad. Bad Harry..."
Niall exhales air he didn't realize he was holding. "Who's 'they', Harry?" He murmurs atop the mop of brown hair.
"Zayn, Louis and Liam." And nothing more but the even breathing of a person who was lost to the Sandman.
Jesus fucking christ. Niall's gonna kill them.