Work Text:
Harry stands out on the front lawn, glancing around at the other houses on his street. They all stand in a perfect line next to each other and if Harry was new to the neighborhood, he’d think they were all the same. But he and Louis have lived here long enough that he can identify the subtle differences, like how the Thompson’s have shrubs along their windows, while the Levin’s have a large oak tree, but it’s not just the plant life. Some houses vary in colors with their siding, brick, front doors and shutters, like Harry and Louis’ house, with the black door and pine colored shutters.
It’s a beautiful home and Harry’s worked hard to live in such a wonderful community, with his loving husband and golden retriever dog. They’re an ideal family, minus the fact they don’t have children, but some day, when they’ve reached a place in their careers that they can comfortably get time off work to take care of a newborn.
“Come on, Chester,” Harry calls, patting his thigh. The dog comes as he’s called, tail wagging as he follows Harry into the house for the night, ready to curl up and go to bed. “I’ll see you in the morning, buddy.”
Chester waltzes off into the front room, jumping on the couch and landing with a huff, watching Harry as he locks the front door. Harry peeks through the curtains one last time, checking to make sure all is well in the neighborhood before he punches in the code on the alarm and heads upstairs.
Louis is waiting for him in bed, a book in his hand and Harry smiles at him before he heads into the bathroom, changing into a pair of pajamas and brushing his teeth.
Louis and Harry have been married for five years, since Harry was twenty, but they’ve been together for ten. A typical case of high school sweethearts falling in love, making it past graduation and breaking all of the statistics. Louis is all he’s ever wanted, all he’s ever known, and Harry couldn’t imagine his life without him.
As he walks back into the bedroom, Louis closes his book and smiles at him, turning onto his side to face Harry. “It’s Tuesday,” Louis says, resting back against the pillow as he talks.
“I know it is,” Harry answers, a slow grin spreading across his face as he stares at his husband.
“Are you ready, then?” Louis asks, because it’s what he always asks, every Tuesday and Saturday, the days of the week that they have sex. It’s routine, a part of their schedule and hectic lives. Louis likes it better this way, without the surprises. Harry likes knowing there are days when he’s going to have Louis completely, something not all married couples can say.
“Of course,” Harry tells him easily enough, reaching over and shutting off his bedside lamp. Louis does the same and they strip themselves of their clothes in silence, the sound of bed creaking slightly with their movements.
“We're not out of the stuff, are we?”
“No, I just bought a bottle after work,” Harry replies, because he knew that they ran out last Saturday, and he knew that tonight wouldn’t be happening if he didn’t. They tried it once, when they were in high school and Harry remembers the look of agony that flashed across Louis' features when Harry was fully inside of him. Harry can only imagine the pain of it all when you’re not prepared.
“Don’t forget the condom,” Louis adds as an afterthought, because that’s another thing Louis doesn’t like being without.
Harry nods absently, stroking his cock into hardness as Louis does the same on the other side of the bed, if his breathy gasps are anything to go by.
When Harry’s fully hard, he slides on the condom and squirts on a generous amount of lube. “Are you good?” Harry asks and when Louis gives him the okay, Harry rolls over onto Louis, spreading his legs open and pushing inside of him.
)()()(
Harry doesn’t realize there is anything wrong with his life until the next day during his lunch break while talking to Niall and Liam.
It’s a little after noon when Niall comes storming into his office, all red faced and grinning, saying, “Harry, I’m starving, are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, of course,” Harry tells him easily enough, saving his file progress before he rips open his bottom drawer and pulls out the bag that he carries his lunch in. “It’s Wednesday, so we’re eating in Liam’s office, right?”
“You’re so good at your days of the week,” Niall notes, slipping an arm around Harry’s shoulder once he’s out of his chair and exiting his office. He frowns slightly as they go, because he didn’t get the chance to lock his door. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his co-workers, they’re all very lovely people, but it’s better to be safe than to find out one of them stole something.
“Payno,” Niall shouts, letting go of Harry as he bounds into Liam’s office, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs opposite Liam. Harry follows suit, smiling at Liam as he takes his own seat. “How are things in the finance department?”
“As exciting as ever. I think Vickers is going to put us into bankruptcy if he doesn’t stop blowing all of our money on his fancy trips,” Liam answers, pulling a tub of pasta out of his desk. He gets up and heads towards the microwave in the corner, which is why three days out of the week they eat in Liam’s office instead of going to the diner down the road.
“You mean the trips he takes his mistress on,” Niall pipes in, shaking his head, a bit of tomato hanging out of his mouth.
“He’s having an affair?” Harry asks, because it’s not like he ever gets the chance to talk to their boss, not a level where he’d find out something like that. “Does his wife know?”
Niall snorts. “Of course she does, she just doesn’t give a damn, because as long as they’re married she has access to his money.”
“I think she’s cheating on him as well,” Liam comments, grabbing his pasta and joining them back at his desk. “I heard Marissa talking about how-“
“Your secretary?”
“Yeah, she said that she heard from Janet, down on the eighteenth floor that it’s kind of a mutual thing. Neither of them loses their status by going through a nasty divorce, but they also don’t have to pretend they’re happy when they’re not.”
Harry shakes his head. He’s starting to not feel hungry. “That’s awful,” he says. It’s not right, not at all. “Marriage means that you’re committed to that person no matter what, if you’re not happy with them, you either work on it or get over it. You can’t just, you can’t cheat on them.” He whispers the last part of it, looking back and forth between his friends. Liam should know that, he’s married, after all.
“Oh, Harry,” Liam says fondly around a mouth full of pasta. “Marriage is something completely different when you run a multi-billion dollar company.”
Harry shakes his head once more. No. He’s not going to hear it. The rules don’t change because you have an ounce of money to your name. That’s not the way life works and Harry’s not going to eat his lunch listening to something like this. He’s just not. Louis would be sick if he heard this.
“That’s not true,” Harry says finally, pretending like he doesn’t see Niall’s eye roll and doesn’t hear Liam’s sigh. They can think all they want about him, he’s right and they know it.
“Oh fuck,” Niall curses, dropping his sandwich down on Liam’s desk. “I dropped a tomato.”
Harry snorts because Niall is always dropping something during lunch, the day before it was a meatball in his spaghetti; it bounced off the edge of his plate and landed on his lap. Harry was in stitches, watching as Niall cursed, trying to get the sauce off his pant leg.
As Niall’s bending to get it, he groans, clutching at his inner thigh.
“Are you all right?” Harry asks, setting his own tuna sandwich down and watching Niall with worried eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Niall tells them, his eyes screwed up as he massages the muscles there, Harry blushes as he looks away, picking up his sandwich and taking a nervous bite. Niall doesn’t follow any of the rules of etiquette that Harry’s mother taught him as a child.
“Are you sure?” Liam asks, his eyebrows pulled together in concern.
“Yeah, just think I pulled something. Lea’s got me trying all this weird shit in bed, nearly threw my back out last night,” Niall explains, shrugging as he goes back to his sandwich. “I must have just stretched the muscle out funny just now, I’ll be fine.”
“Weird shit in bed, huh?”
Niall grins, a slow smirk that feels daunting. “It’s nothing like that,” he laughs, shaking his head. “She bought this book, this Kama sutra book and we’ve been, you know, trying out all the different positions and shit. This one she had me do last night, fuck.”
“Was it really kinky?” Liam asks in interest and Harry thinks he might be developing a fever, his face feels really warm and it’s beginning to radiate down to his toes.
“Not really, but just the position of it, I’m not used to having my foot so close to my ear,” Niall says, forcing a laugh out of Liam and Harry laughs along, but it’s not as cheerful as Liam’s. He’s trying his hardest to study the texture of his bread and not listen in to this. “I’m not as flexible as she is, so she thinks I need to do some yoga with her, get as bendy as I was before.”
“Oh god, Corrine has been trying to get me into yoga for the same reason. She swears that it’ll improve our sex life tenfold.”
“Women,” Niall sighs, shaking his head. “Although, I’ll be honest. Sometimes Lea surprises me.”
Harry doesn’t want to hear this. He’s met Niall’s girlfriend, she’s the sweetest thing, she’s short with mousy brown hair down her back the last time Harry saw her. She’s so much better than the girlfriend before, the one that…well, she just wasn’t a good person. The point is, Harry likes Lea. He knows her, not very well, but well enough. He and Louis have had dinner with them and she makes an amazing chocolate pie, Harry had begged her for the recipe. And now, because of this conversation, Harry is going to picture Lea shoving Niall’s foot behind his ear every time he bakes Louis that pie.
“Like Lea really loves being in charge, like she gets off on telling me what to do,” Niall tells them, looking back and forth between the two of them. “And I don’t mind it, because it makes it so much easier to figure out what she wants, because she’s not afraid to tell me. You wouldn’t think that from her.”
“Not Corrine,” Liam says, shaking his head. “She loves being held down, like when I hold both of her wrists in my hand. Or sometimes, she likes being tied up.”
Harry frowns at his sandwich. He was in Liam and Corrine’s wedding and now, the memory is tainted with the image of Corrine on her back, ropes tied around her wrist, hair splayed out on the pillow. Harry feels awful and dirty imagining it, he doesn’t want to. Corrine is lovely, probably even more so than Lea, because she and Harry have common interests, things they can talk about when Liam invites them both over for dinner.
“You know, we tried that once, but that’s not really our thing.” Liam shakes his head at Niall’s words, like he’s clearly missing out. “Last week she fucked me with a strap on, hottest sex of my life.”
“Toys are great,” Liam comments. “Corrine has a entire drawer full of them. Along with leather, she loves leather.”
“Face sitting.”
“Spanking.”
“Blindfolds.”
“One time, Corrine and I tried a gag.”
“You gagged her?”
“Yeah, she fucking loved it.”
Harry sets his sandwich down and stares at the grain of wood that makes up Liam’s desk.
“Oh, fuck,” Niall curses, clapping a hand on Harry’s back. “Didn’t mean to exclude you, Haz. What about you and Louis? What kind of things is Louis into?”
“I had sex with a couple guys in college,” Liam supplies, like if he can try to relate to Harry’s sexuality then it might make it easier for Harry to open, like that’s the problem.
Harry just doesn’t have anything to say. He and Louis have sex like two normal people do. They don’t do all that weird extra stuff, it’s pointless. Sex like that is for when you’re not in love with someone, when you’re young and wild, not when you’re happy and in love.
“Louis likes it when I rub his shoulders before,” Harry mumbles, still staring down at his sandwich. “Not all the time, but sometimes he does. He says that it’s a really intimate gesture.”
He glances up to see that both of them are staring at him. Liam looks thoughtful, but Niall looks like he might burst out in laughter at any moment, which he does, of course. He’s never been able to hold it in for very long.
“Oh, come on,” Niall groans, shoving gently at Harry’s shoulder. “We just spilled out some great stuff and you’re going to say that Louis likes it when you rub his shoulders?”
“Lots of people enjoy that,” Liam interjects, nodding. “Corrine loves when I rub her shoulders, as well.”
“Yeah. It’s like,” Harry sighs, raking his fingers through his hair, “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not all the time, but he does like it. It makes him feel nice.”
Niall rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “All right, so Louis is boring as shit.”
“Niall,” Liam warns, but Niall ignores him.
“What about you? What are you into?”
Harry shrugs. He’s never thought about it before. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never really—it’s not something that, you know. I’ve never really thought—I don’t know,” he answers honestly, biting down on his bottom lip. He’s never tried any of those frilly little extras before; he’s never needed them. All he’s needed was Louis. He doesn’t even know what most of them are; sure he’s heard them when they’re mentioned in movies, but in practice? He has no idea.
“Niall, I’ve been meaning to ask you, did you speak with Jones about the Yates account?”
And just that like, the conversation is over, forgotten as Liam and Niall launch into a discussion about work, leaving Harry confused.
Is there something Harry’s missing?
)()()(
Later that night, when he’s lying in bed beside Louis with a book perched on his lap, Harry can’t get the conversation with Niall and Liam out of his head. It’s not that he wants it there, at the forefront of his mind replaying on a constant loop, forcing him to read the same words over and over again. That’s not what he wants, at all.
But that hasn’t stopped his mind, not even a little bit.
And really, Harry doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about it. Liam and Niall… they’re always doing things like this, overstepping social boundaries and being inappropriate, especially Niall. Harry shouldn’t be taking this seriously. Harry shouldn’t be thinking about what Niall and Liam’s sex lives are like when he’s lying next to Louis in bed.
His husband. The person he’s been with since he was fifteen.
Harry’s a mess, he shouldn’t be thinking of these things.
But no matter how hard he tries to shake those thoughts, because some of the things they mentioned, he can’t understand the thrill of them all. Why would gagging someone make sex more interesting? Or spanking, how is that remotely sexual? And toys, aren’t they meant for people without a partner?
Harry just doesn’t understand, which is no one’s fault. He and Louis, they’ve spent their whole lives together… the majority of it, anyway. The riskiest thing they’ve ever done is rub against each other in the backseat of Louis’ car. Other than that, it was normal sex in a normal bedroom when their parents weren’t home. If they were home, then heated kisses under the blankets were enough, because that’s how it is when you’re in love.
The extras are there for other reasons, Harry supposes.
But…
Well, Harry was sure that Liam truly loved Corrine. And Niall, he talks so highly of Lea. But if they’re doing those things, then maybe… Or maybe Harry’s just wrong about a lot of things, which wouldn’t be the first time, he guesses.
When it feels like Harry’s head starts to spin, he closes his book and sighs, turning on his side so that he can talk to Louis.
“Lou?”
Louis hums, holding up a finger for Harry to wait a minute before he says, “What, babe?”
“Do you ever think about, like,” Harry pauses, frowning, because he really doesn’t know what to say. He should have thought more about this and less about spanking. “Do you ever think about our sex and wonder if we’re doing it right?”
Louis looks at him, eyebrow raised as he closes the book in his hands. Harry swallows back his guilt, because that's an awful question to ask someone. He shouldn’t have said anything; he wants to suck the words back into his mouth.
“What’s wrong with our sex?” Louis asks, eyes narrowing just slightly.
“Nothing,” Harry says, sitting up. “Nothing’s wrong with it, but like, what if we did something else?”
“What else is there to do?” Louis asks, head tilted to the side.
Harry opens his mouth to answer, but it’s then that he realizes he has no idea. Liam and Niall named things, but Harry doesn’t really know what they fully entail, what doing things like that would mean. And since he doesn’t know, all he can do is shrug, biting down on his lip because he doesn’t know what else to do.
)()()(
Harry’s fingers tap against the keyboard, fingers drumming idly against the keys. Not hard enough to type anything else, just hard enough to make a clicking sound as he works up the courage to press search.
Taking a deep breath, Harry clicks enter. He has to close his eyes, because he’s not ready to see what kind of results searching ‘ways to improve your sex life’ yield.
It takes several minutes and a lot of positive, motivational thoughts before he’s able to avert his eyes back to the screen, ready to see what he comes up with. Obviously, a lot of the articles’ titles mimic his search, which is fine, because it tells him that he’s going in the right direction. He’s found the right thing to look for.
Harry clicks the first one, which…it doesn’t really help the way that Harry thought it would. Telling him to find the right time to talk to his partner, but the more he reads, the more it starts to sound like something that can actually help him have a conversation with Louis. Like, it says to practice touching, try to find what feels right and where your partner enjoys it the most.
The article is written for a female, something he learns when it starts talking about strengthening your vaginal muscles.
The more he reads, though, the more he realizes that he doesn’t have a solid foundation to his problem, because Harry doesn’t even know what he wants to add to their sex life. He doesn’t know what’s out there, what might sound like something he and Louis can try.
After skimming through three different online articles, Harry decides that it’s time to actually research something helpful, something that can help him in a discussion with Louis. It takes him a minute, he has to double check that his door is closed, and that no one outside of it is paying him any attention, when he’s confident that no one is going to come rushing inside to bust him for using his work computer for this, Harry presses search.
10 of the Most Popular Sexual Fetishes
Okay, Harry thinks. Popular, that’s good. That means a lot of people enjoying doing this, making it normal. Meaning, if he were to consider some of these, Louis wouldn’t find it weird.
However, Harry doesn’t think that he clicked the right thing, because the first one is about adult babies, and Harry can’t see that taking place inside his own bedroom. Same with group sex, or the one that’s called watersports, Harry’s positive that neither of those are very exciting. Harry doesn’t even know how sex with three people would work, and beyond that just makes his head spin. Does one person just act as a motivational coach? It’s too confusing to think about, and Harry knows his husband well enough to know that Louis wouldn’t take it too lightly if Harry suggested they find someone else to have sex with.
That’s not—well, it’s just not something Harry would ever ask his husband.
However, this cross-dressing one sounds interesting and lighthearted enough. Harry thinks that they could do something small like this, it’s just a simple dress up, or so it sounds. But the more he reads about it, the less he feels this would be good. Louis wouldn’t be interested in trying on a pair of lace panties. And Harry’s not sure if he wants to see Louis in them, anyway.
Harry skips the next slide completely, because foot worship… That’s not for him. And it’s definitely not for Louis, even if he does enjoy not wearing socks and being barefoot, Harry can’t imagine putting Louis toe in his mouth.
He also can’t imagine spanking, or having sex in public, as the list continues on. Harry’s not sure how leather or latex works in sex, and role-play sounds too much like Halloween in the bedroom for his liking. And domination doesn’t sound right; he doesn’t think he’d enjoy telling Louis what to do.
Harry finishes the list with a sigh, because he went through an entire list of things and nothing happened. He wasn’t interested in anything, if anything he was more overwhelmed by it all. There are so many things out there and Harry doesn’t know about any of them. He doesn’t know the appeal of them and he doesn’t know how they work, nothing.
Harry is clueless and Harry’s brain feels like it’s in overdrive, trying to filter through and process it all, because he’s been having sex for a long time, with Louis, and together they’ve never done any of these things. Things that are listed as being popular and interesting to people all around the world, probably, and things he’s heard his friends are into.
It’s a lot to take in, and Harry has to take deep, calming breaths before he can read on, because he wants to know more. He wants to know if he and Louis have been having sex the wrong way for years, because he loves Louis, and if he’s ruining things by not understanding, then he’d feel horribly.
)()()(
Harry thinks that the first step to improving things, since the more he read, the more he realized that there is something wrong with the way they’re doing things. They’re too planned, too structured, and the first way to break that is to practice spontaneity. Harry read that’s one of the important factors in sex, to be spontaneous and not structured, which they have been doing.
Currently, they’re walking Chester through their neighborhood, while Louis tells him about work. Normally Harry would listen intently, completely focused on consuming the information that Louis is giving him on his life, but right now his mind is wavering between listening and constructing a sequence of words that will properly convey to Louis how he’d like to try having sex tonight instead of waiting until Saturday, like they usually do.
“I’ve told Nick that it’d never work, and he didn’t believe me, but of course I was right,” Louis says, turning to look at Harry. “Are you even listening?”
“What?” Harry says before he properly realizes what Louis had said to him. “No, of course I am. Sorry. You were talking about Nick, did he ask you to do something ridiculous again?”
Louis sighs, shaking his head as he turns back to look at Chester, gently tugging on the leash so that he stops sniffing the grass and starts walking again. “I was telling you about what happened at work today.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I was listening. I just have a lot on my mind, and I guess I lost focus for a second,” Harry explains, catching Louis’ wrist, sliding his grip down so that he can clutch Louis’ hand, squeezing gently. “Can you tell me again?”
“It was nothing,” Louis shrugs, “just a story about Nick being Nick, is all.”
“No, come on. You said that he didn’t listen to you. What happened? Was it another project that you had to save the day on?”
“As usual,” Louis says, smiling at Harry now, and he feels better now, because at least Louis isn’t angry anymore. If he were angry than Harry would have to rethink the dialogue that he had planned in his head. “What were you thinking about?”
“What?”
“A minute ago, when you said you got distracted, what were you thinking about?”
“Oh. Well, okay,” Harry says, wetting his lips. He wasn’t prepared to have this conversation just yet, but he can manage. Spontaneity, after all. He glances around to make sure none of his neighbors are in earshot, and after a quick wave to Maria Sanders, he looks back at Louis. “Would you want to have sex tonight?”
Louis’ eyes widen slightly, following Harry’s actions of checking to see if anyone could have possibly overheard that. They couldn’t have, not unless they count Chester. But Chester is more focused on trotting along the sidewalk and less on their sex life, luckily.
“Tonight’s Thursday,” Louis says and Harry nods, because yeah, he knew that.
“Yeah, but like, I don’t know. Would you be interested?”
“We don’t usually have sex on Thursdays.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to change that?”
“I guess,” Louis says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. He looks confused, mostly. “But what about Saturday? Wouldn’t that throw our whole week off?”
Harry shakes his head, but then stops short of that and starts to nod, because yeah, it kind of does, but the whole point is shaking things up. It’s step one of trying to improve their sex life. “It’s spontaneous,” Harry tells him, like Louis understands. “We can still, you know, do it on Saturday, but wouldn’t it be nice to change it up a bit?”
“I don’t know,” Louis says, turning to look ahead of them. He doesn’t sound or look like he’s been swayed and Harry sighs, allowing Louis to guide him on their walk through the neighborhood.
)()()(
Somehow, Harry’s still not sure how, he was able to convince Louis that they should have sex. It feels like a small win, and Harry is giddy with excitement, lying under the blankets naked, waiting for Louis to finish brushing his teeth. He has the condom and lube in hand, already ready to go.
While he waits, Harry tries to think back on the articles he read, other steps that they mentioned. One of them was about changing positions, how sometimes even the slightest change can feel like a vast improvement for some couples. Harry thinks it’d be nice to be the one on his back for once. He’d like to be the one allowed to lie there and moan, shifting around slightly, instead of the one forced to do all the work. He’d like to experience the pleasure of it without having to constantly snap his hips against Louis’ ass.
It feels like a risk, asking Louis for that, but he’s feeling brave and thinks that he could try this one. He could try and see what comes of it. All the articles said that it’s best to be honest and open, to tell your partner what you want and to have a proper discussion about it. So it’s the least he can do, tell Louis how he’d like to try something new.
When Louis walks out of the bathroom, Harry has to take a deep breath. His palms are sweating, and he’s nervous. They never have sex on Thursdays, what if he does it wrong? What if he ruins this whole thing and Louis doesn’t enjoy it?
Harry’s nerves are tingling, and he wishes that he had shut the light off before Louis could walk out of the bathroom, instead of waiting for him to slide into bed next to him, where Louis can no doubt feel the vibration of Harry’s nerves against the mattress. He can’t see Harry’s sweaty palms, though, as Harry subtly wipes them off on the sheets.
“Give me a minute,” Louis tells him, shutting the light off and sliding into bed. Harry knows that he still has to undress and needs to get himself ready, and sometimes that takes a couple minutes. Harry’s only half hard himself, but he needs his mind to be clear when he talks to Louis about the shift in positions.
“Louis,” Harry whispers, trying to keep quiet so that Louis can concentrate. He grunts in reply, and Harry swallows around the lump in his throat. “Do you think that we could try something new tonight?”
The rustling under the blankets stops and then he hears, “Isn’t sex on a Thursday new?”
“Yeah, but I mean, like, you know. We could change things up a little bit. Maybe…maybe I could be the one that tries—the one that does what you do.”
“You want me to—“
“Yeah,” Harry says, swallowing thickly. “Or we could try something else, like another position.”
“Position?” Louis repeats and Harry can see the faint outline of his body as he sits up properly, back against the headboard. “What does that mean?”
Harry reaches behind him for his phone on the bedside table, pulls it off the charger before he turns back to Louis. “I’ll show you,” he says, eyes squinting to adjust to the light of his phone. He quickly finds what he’s looking for on the Internet and hands his phone over to Louis.
Louis takes the phone cautiously, his face contorting as his eyes scan the images in front of them. Harry made sure to find one that was mild, because some of them, not even he can understand how they’d be pleasurable, holding Louis upside down being one of them, but the ones he has are like, they’re the beginner ones. Well, that’s what Harry is calling them. He memorized the right thing to search to find this specific image, because he knew that Louis would be hesitate.
“I don’t understand,” Louis says, eyes shifting from the screen to Harry’s face, the soft glow of the phone illuminated the features on Louis’ face. “Why are you showing these to me?”
“They’re, um, different things that people do. Different ways to have sex, you know,” Harry says, shrugging. “I thought it might be nice to try one of them. At least this one time, don’t you think?”
Louis shakes his head, handing the phone back to Harry. “I don’t think so, Harry. I mean, they’re weird.”
“Well, they’re not weird. A lot of people do them.”
Louis looks at him, frowning. “Is there something wrong with the way that we do things? I mean, I’ve always enjoyed it, but if you’re not then I guess we can try one of those things.”
“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It’s not that I don’t like it. I just thought…” Harry shrugs, sighing. “I thought it might be fun. I read somewhere that couples should be spontaneous, so I thought—I mean, we don’t usually—It was just a thought.”
Louis nods, but he doesn’t look like he understands, and Harry can’t blame him. He had the dialogue planned out in his head, but it didn’t come out the way that it was supposed to. He thought that he was ready to have this conversation, to be convincing enough that Louis would actually want this, but it all came out wrong. Harry didn’t sound like he had any conviction, like even he was convinced that this is a horrible idea.
“I’m kind of tired from that walk,” Louis says, leaning over the side of the bed for his pajamas. “I think I’d rather just go to sleep tonight, is that okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Harry says, because he knows that he killed the mood. He ruined things.
)()()(
When Harry finds Liam, it doesn’t look like he’s knee deep in work, so Harry thinks now might be the best time to talk to him. At least Harry hopes it is, because he’s been sitting in his office thinking about this all day. About how things went with Louis the night before, and how he’d still like to give it a try, this conversation and the actual act of following through on it. Just once.
That’s all Harry wants. And maybe it’s too much to ask, but the thing is, he doesn’t even know how to properly ask. He doesn’t know how to properly convey what it is that he’s thinking. But the more he thought about it, the more he remembered the conversation between Liam and Niall, and how they’re experienced in this department. They know what it’s like to have this conversation, and obviously it has yielded positive results for them. But Harry can’t go to Niall, because Niall would laugh in his face, so that’s why he’s here in Liam’s office, sitting on the other side of his desk.
“Wait,” Liam says, closing his eyes for a moment, shifting his elbows to rest on his desk. “What is it that you want to know?”
“How did you know what you like?” Harry asks again, looking at Liam through his lashes. He bites down on his bottom lip when Liam raises an eyebrow in confusion. Harry sighs and adds, “With Corrine, and stuff. How did you know what you guys liked when you guys. When you, you know, have sex.”
“Oh,” Liam says, nodding his head. Harry can tell that he’s feeling sorry for him, like he feels bad for Harry that he has to ask a question like this and it makes Harry shrink in on himself even more. “Is everything okay with you and Louis?”
Harry nods. “Yeah, of course. It’s just,” Harry sighs, shaking his head, “I thought that we were doing it right.”
“There’s no wrong way,” Liam informs him, looking at him seriously. “There’s not. It’s whatever you enjoy doing.”
“But how do you know what you enjoy doing?”
“You have to try it,” Liam says, shrugging, like he can’t offer anything else. Harry was afraid of that.
“You can’t just know?” Harry asks, still holding out hope that maybe it’s instinctual and not anything else.
Liam shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “I mean, sometimes. Maybe. I guess it just depends, but you’d still have to try. How can you say that you enjoy skydiving if you’ve never done it?”
Harry sighs, he absolutely hates that Liam is right. There really isn’t any way to know if Harry enjoys being spanked if he’s never had it happen to him. He can’t say that he wouldn’t enjoy seeing Louis in a pair of panties when it’s never happened. Just like Louis can’t say he wouldn’t enjoy fucking Harry when it’s never happened.
Maybe Harry can go that route; it’s a very good point.
“You should talk to Louis,” Liam says, nodding firmly. “If you’re having these thoughts then you should really talk to Louis about them. He loves you, so he’d want to know. It’s hard, I’m sure. I know it was uncomfortable the first time Corrine and I really talked about things, but it’s all worked out. Every couple goes through this.”
“Yeah. I mean, of course. I should talk to him.” Harry nods, releasing a deep breath. There’s still a knot in the center of his chest because of nerves, but at least Liam is here, at least Liam is confirming his thoughts. “I’ll try.”
)()()(
This time, when it comes to figuring out how he’s going to talk to Louis, Harry sleeps on it. He takes Liam’s advice and waits, mulling it over in his head after work, his thoughts trickling over into the next day, because thinking back on it, Harry knows that he’s to blame for how awfully the conversation went. He rushed into things; he didn’t formulate an effective argument for how changing things up could be beneficial for them. He approached the subject on a day that he knows Louis wasn’t prepared for it.
They never have sex on Thursdays, so it had been really stupid of Harry to try and have the conversation on a day where things were shoved out of their comfort zone.
Louis was uncomfortable, already shaken up at the change of schedule, and then Harry pushed him, pushing him further when he mentioned possibly changing positions. He should have just stuck with them switching, not with something crazy like Louis throwing his leg above his head, or something equally as adventurous…like getting on his hands and knees or something.
So on Saturday evening, after spending the entire morning rehearsing his lines in the bathroom, Harry sets off in search of Louis. He finds him - of course he does - curled up on the couch, his feet tucked under Chester, some action flick playing on the television.
Harry takes a seat on the armchair, waiting until a commercial break before he seeks out Louis’ attention. “Louis, do you think that we could talk for a moment?”
Louis nods, reaching for the remote so that he can pause the television. He sits up slowly, turning to look at Harry, his hair rumbled from rubbing against the couch. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Harry nods, wetting his lips, “I just wanted to talk to you, because it’s Saturday. Um, you know that, right?”
“I do, yes.”
“So then you also know that means—um. Well, I mean. It’s Saturday night, so obviously we’re going to um, have sex.” Louis nods, looking at Harry with his brow raised, face scrunched up in confusion. “I just wanted to talk to you, because I’m not sure if you remember, but the other night I mentioned—“
“Harry,” Louis sighs, shaking his head, “I thought we already talked about this.”
“We did. Yeah, but like, I was really inconsiderate of like, how I had already asked you to do something new. I took advantage of that, and I pushed you. And I’m sorry.”
Louis nods, shrugging once more. “You only wanted to apologize?”
“No. I also wanted to talk about tonight.”
“What about tonight?”
“What if we switched?”
“Switched?” Louis asks, frowning. “What does that mean?”
Okay. Harry knows how to answer this; he practiced, so that he knows what to say. He knew that Louis would have questions and he made sure that he would have answers, because that’s how a proper discussion works.
“Well, it means that like, I would be on bottom.”
“On bottom?” Louis repeats.
“Yeah, so like, you’d be inside of me,” Harry clarifies, swallowing. His mouth is beginning to feel dry, and he wishes that he had brought a glass of water with him. “It’s something we’ve never done before, and I thought. Well, I thought that it’d be nice to try.”
“I don’t know, Harry,” Louis says, shaking his head.
“I just thought we could talk about it. It doesn’t hurt to talk, you know.”
“We talked about it the other night, though,” Louis says, grabbing the remote and shutting the television off entirely. “We talked about this when you requested we had sex on Thursday, and we talked about it when you shoved your phone in my face with those…those pictures. We talked about it and I already told you how I felt.”
“I know, but I just—“
“I’m not going to discuss this anymore,” Louis says, shutting Harry down completely. He brushes past Harry, calling for Chester to follow him.
Harry can hear the jangle of Chester’s collar and he knows that Louis is going to take him for a walk, knows that Louis is doing it to give himself some space from Harry, because Harry pushed him too far again.
)()()(
Harry practically throws himself at Louis when he finally gets back, his stomach knotted up in a ball of guilt. He feels awful, so, so horrible about what he did. Louis has said no countless times and Harry kept pushing and pushing.
He’s an idiot, and he can understand completely why Louis shoved him away, why Louis denied him, and why Louis had to leave. Harry backed Louis into a corner and god, he feels so awful about it.
“I’m so sorry,” Harry breathes, hesitating on if he should wrap his arms around Louis or not. He settles for pressing them against his side, watching as Louis takes off the dog’s leash and hangs it back up, Chester bounding away. “I’m sorry.”
Louis sighs, arms folding over his chest. He doesn’t look impressed, or like he believes Harry for that matter, which makes his stomach twist once more.
“I don’t even know where all of this came from,” Harry lies, because he does know. It was that conversation between Liam and Niall. He heard it and now he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop wondering what he’s been missing out on. “I didn’t mean it. None of it. I just thought—I don’t know what I thought. I was stupid, so incredibly stupid.”
“I just don’t understand,” Louis says after a moment, sighing as he unfolds his arms. “Are you not happy?”
“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “No, no. No, of course I’m happy.”
“Then why do you,” Louis pauses, waving his arm around, “why do you keep asking for all of these things from me? If you’re happy then why do you want so much more?”
Harry sighs and shrugs, because it’s not like he can lie anymore. He has to give Louis a piece of the truth, something to help him understand that it’s not Louis. It’s not him at all; Harry loves him. He’s loved him since he was sixteen. Harry’s never known anything else, he just… “There was a conversation at work. Niall and Liam, they—they mentioned all this stuff, and I just. I don’t know,” he shrugs again, shaking his head, “I guess some of their comments got to me.”
“What’d they say?” Louis asks, head tilted to the side in curiosity. “You didn’t…I mean, you didn’t tell them about our sex, did you?”
“No, of course not. That’s why they made comments.”
Louis shakes his head, humming thoughtfully. “You shouldn’t let the things people say bother you, Harry. I know that it’s always been hard for you, but did you see what their comments did? They had us fighting.”
“I know,” Harry mumbles, eyes casted down towards the floor.
“I don’t like it when we fight.”
“Neither do I,” Harry breathes out, looking back up at Louis. “That’s why I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a fight, or to upset you.”
“I forgive you,” Louis says, smiling hesitantly. Harry breathes out a sigh of relief, reaching out to take Louis’ hand. “And if you want, we could still have sex tonight. Unless you’d rather not.”
“No, course we can. Just let me lock up and shut everything down, yeah?” Harry says, watching as Louis nods.
Harry allows his gaze to follow Louis up the stairs, watching as he goes before he releases a deep breath, sagging against the front door.
)()()(
There’s an impossibly large stack of papers sitting on top of Harry’s desk, an almost daunting stack of papers. He’s been needing to sort through them for ages, filter through them and separate the bills and the stuff he brought home from work on Friday, things he really should have gotten done yesterday. Louis hates when he spends Sunday’s locked away in the den working, but unfortunately, because the paper stack has been glaring at him for two days, Harry has to do what he has to do.
But that doesn’t mean he’s actually touched the papers. Harry should be productive, he should be focused on filing away bank statements and bill receipts, but it’s all so boring.
He managed to pay the bills due this month, but that’s as far as he’s gotten because as it seems, despite his conversation with Louis, his mind can’t get but an inch past anything remotely sexual. And he’s trying to make it stop, he really is. Because it already caused problems in his marriage, but he can’t, almost like Liam and Niall unlocked some kind of monster inside of him, or a devil on his shoulder, something that keeps telling him that he can’t forget this. He can’t brush it off like Louis has, because it’s not fair.
Marriage is about two people, and it’s about give and take. Compromise and a willingness to listen, something Louis hasn’t done for Harry. And maybe Harry has done the same thing, maybe he’s just as bad because he wouldn’t take no for an answer. But Harry had tried. He was open to listening to Louis' counterarguments, if he had any other than no, but he didn’t, and maybe that’s why Harry can’t seem to let this go.
And since he can’t talk to Louis about this anymore, and because curiosity is at an all time high, Harry goes to his computer, shaking the mouse to bring it to life. It takes him a minute to remember how to do this, because it’s been years since Harry sought out porn, not since he was in high school, before anything started happening between him and Louis. But eventually he finds a website, one geared towards gay males.
Harry doesn’t even know what he’s searching for, just clicks on a random video with a still of two men kissing, one with arm muscles bigger than his head.
The lighting is poor on the video, but Harry can tell that they’re in some kind of warehouse, the cement walls and dungeon-like appeal to the room giving that much away. The lighting changes, as the man with the giant arms enters the room, flicking on a light to reveal a smaller man, tied up in some rope with—Harry’s not sure what it is, but he has something in his mouth, muffling whatever it is that he’s trying to say. As the video progresses, Harry realizes that he should have started with something a bit tamer, should have actually checked what it is he was looking at because the boy, this poor boy is tied up, some machine fucking into him with some purple, plastic penis attached to the end. And the other guy – giant arms – is prodding him with something, something that sounds like it has an electrical current and it’s too much.
It’s too much too soon, but that doesn’t stop Harry’s dick from twitching in interest, even as his mouth drops open, his eyes wide in shock. He’s being jolted with electricity, Harry thinks, going back so he can find something else.
It’s a video titled ‘young boy loses his virginity’ that catches his eye and although the boy in the still looks like he’s in pain, Harry safely assumes that there is no electricity involved and that this young boy is like him, in a way. Obviously the boy isn’t really a virgin, he would hate for someone’s first time to be on the Internet for all the world to see.
Harry remembers how awful his was. Not awful, that’s a horrible choice of words, he thinks, chastises himself as the video loads. He just had no idea what he was doing, hands completely soaked with lube, body trembling in fear because he was about to put his dick inside of Louis, for the first time…ever. It was scary.
However, as the video loads, Harry can tell that this boy is not a virgin because the other guy slams right into him, with absolutely no warning. And it’s different, not alarmingly so, but pleasantly slow, because they’re shifting, moving together. The younger boy touches himself, hands wrapped around his own cock, legs hung over the other’s shoulders. But then they’re never in the same position, which Harry has learned isn’t as weird as he originally thought, they’re fucking lying on their sides, the younger man crawling on top of him, bouncing up and down. And they’re talking, telling each other how they’re doing, what they’re feeling, urging each other on.
Harry’s dick feels like it could break off, it’s so incredibly hard. And his mind is fuzzy again with all this new information, because he’s too overwhelmed to properly process it.
When the video ends, Harry can feel the pre-come soaking through his sweats, can see the tent of his dick in his pants, and can tell that his brain is a pile of aroused mush on the floor.
Harry feels like a door has been opened in his brain, one that was always aware of this, the teenager in him that remembers watching these videos before he and Louis had sex, wanting to do these things, wanting to make sure he could make Louis feel as good as the men in the videos did for each other. But as time went on, and Harry fed off the things that Louis wanted more and more, Harry forgot.
Or maybe he didn’t forget, maybe he just didn’t care anymore, because the sex was good. It’s always been good, but it’s never been great, he thinks, swallowing past the lump of guilt in his throat.
These videos don’t change how he feels about Louis, not in the slightest, but there’s an itch just under his skin, one that he can’t quite scratch, one that will never go away until he does something about it. So with guilt, and a heavy heart – even heavier balls – Harry switches tabs, typing out escort service.
)()()(
It takes hours, painstakingly long hours to work up the courage to find Louis and follow through with his plan. There’s nothing to it, really, because he’s still unsure about how far he wants to go with this. It’s bad enough that he found an agency; it’s bad enough that he called and talked to them. He didn't tell them much; really, just that he was looking for someone, a boy, specifically, someone to spend his evening with. He also gave away his name and the address to a hotel that he found an hour away, far enough that there isn’t a chance in hell Louis or anyone they know could find him. But the real deciding factor to justify the distance, is that Harry wants to make sure he has enough time to properly think about this, to back out if he needs to.
Louis is in the kitchen, his back turned to Harry as he stuffs his chicken with mozzarella. Harry watches him, listening to the faint sounds of his humming.
There’s a tiny part of him that wants to try again, wants to tell Louis that this is it, he’s about to do something so incredibly stupid, but he swallows that urge down. It really is the dumbest idea he’s had all day, and as it stands, he’s had a few.
“Louis?” Harry says cautiously, stepping further into the room. “I need to head into the office. Liam just called and we have that big meeting tomorrow, but there’s a lot that’s not ready, and he could really use the help.”
Louis turns towards him, frowning. “Harry, it’s Sunday. We always eat together on Sunday’s, no matter what.”
“No. Yeah, I know that. I do, but you know I’d never go in unless he really needed me.”
Louis breathes out, shaking his head. “Yeah. I know,” he says, sparing a glance at his chicken. “Do you think you can wait until this is done? Send you off with a meal?”
“I would if I could,” Harry says, biting down on his bottom lip. “I really have to get going, though.”
“Yeah, of course.” Louis nods and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and Harry doesn’t think about it, won’t think about it.
“I might be late, so don’t wait up, okay?” Harry says, leaning forward to press a kiss to Louis’ cheek. “Love you.”
Harry rushes out of the house before he can hear Louis’ response, fingers already tapping in the hotel’s address on his phone’s GPS. His nerves are buzzing, a mixture of excitement and nervous energy.
)()()(
Excitement is thrown out the window when Harry arrives at the hotel. He can’t stop pacing, wearing holes into the carpet. His hands are shaking, palms sweating. There’s nothing he can do but wait and watch as the clock on the wall ticks by, counting down the seconds until this escort—person is supposed to arrive. Harry doesn’t even have their name, just the confirmation that someone will be here any minute now.
Harry could be sick, honestly and truly sick all over the shitty beige carpet, or the thick white duvet on the bed.
God, he groans, hands rubbing against his face. He needs to pull himself together. He’s being ridiculous. He spent the entire car ride thinking about this, about how he’s doing the right thing for himself. It’s not the best decision for his marriage, obviously, but Harry’s not going to think about that. He’s not going to think about that at all. Not even a little bit.
There’s a tentative knock on the door and Harry’s stomach does a somersault, flipping and rolling with nerves. God, he’s going to be sick. His legs are jelly as he walks towards the door; peeking through the peephole he’s a bit surprised.
The man standing behind it is lean, wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a matching jean jacket, grey sweater underneath. It’s not cold out, but he looks warm. His hair long and swept back out of his face, parted on one side. He’s gorgeous, with strong features and big doe eyes; Harry’s worried that he has the wrong room.
“Can I help you?” Harry asks, pulling the door open carefully, eyeing the man.
“Are you Harry?” the man says, scratching at his jaw idly.
Harry nods and pulls the door open, because the only people who could possibly know he’s here is the front desk and the escort, and since this man isn’t wearing a shirt with the hotel name embroidered over the breast, that leaves one option.
Harry locks the door behind him, and turns to watch as the man strides into the room with ease, picking up an informational pamphlet on the desk. He looks at it for a moment before dropping it down, turning back to look at Harry.
“Are you cold?” Harry asks stupidly, motioning towards the man’s jacket. “I could turn the heating on.”
“I’m fine,” he says, folding his arms over his chest as he leans back against the desk. “You didn’t really specify what it is you needed me for, so…”
“Oh,” Harry says, blushing. “I thought that—um. I thought there was just like, the one thing.”
“There is.”
Harry nods, his mouth going dry around the edges. It hasn’t reached his tongue yet, so he does his best to swallow thickly, trying to fight down the bubbling panic in his gut before it spills out of him completely. “Could I get your name?”
“Zayn,” he tells Harry, eyeing him carefully.
“Okay. That’s nice,” Harry says, smiling. “I’m Harry…as you already know, I suppose.”
Zayn nods, eyes leaving Harry to trail across the room. Harry can feel the awkwardness; he’s made things uncomfortable. He really should have done more research about appropriate protocol for a situation like this. It doesn’t look like Zayn is going to give him much direction, and he could really use all the help he can get. That’s why he’s here, after all.
“Have you eaten?” Harry asks after his stomach churns, this time from hunger and not from nerves, which is a pleasant surprise.
“What?” Zayn says, turning back to look at him.
“I could buy you dinner. Do you want something to eat?”
Zayn shrugs. “It’s your money and your time, so if you want to eat, then I guess we’re eating.” He pushes off the desk and walks towards the door, stopping to turn and see if Harry is following him. Harry scrambles to gather his things before he follows Zayn out of the room, mindful to keep an eye out for anyone he knows. He walks a careful distance away from him, trying not to look suspicious, even though he feels like there’s a neon sign blinking behind him, informing everyone that Harry has paid this man to spend the night with him.
)()()(
Harry has no idea where he is, so he has to listen to Zayn when he gives him directions to a diner nearly ten minutes away. It’s small, booths lining the walls with stools in front of the counter. It’s nearly empty, luckily, but Harry walks in with his hands in his pockets, head held down as he follows Zayn to a booth furthest away from everyone else. Harry wants to thank him, but he’s sure that it’s not for his benefit.
And Harry has to bite his tongue when Zayn pulls out of a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one at the table. Harry has asthma, so it’s not a wise decision on his part to subject himself to this, but Zayn’s doing him a favor, honestly, so he can handle a little cigarette smoke. It’s not like it’s dangerous or anything, his asthma isn’t that severe; he’ll survive, even if it smells completely and utterly awful.
They order quickly, Harry getting a glass of water and a roast beef sandwich. He knows that he probably won’t be able to eat, but he needs to get something, even if it’s just to lie to himself. Zayn, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He orders a chicken sandwich with a side of fries, a bowl of soup, and a side of vegetables. Harry just smiles at the waitress, refraining from asking Zayn if he gets enough to eat, because Harry would be happy to get to-go orders, if Zayn needed them. It’s the least he can do for him.
“Do you get taken out to dinner often?” Harry asks instead, when the silence becomes too much for him.
Zayn just looks at him, eyebrow raised. He doesn’t say anything right away, just takes a drink from his coffee and shrugs.
“I’ve never done this before,” Harry adds as an afterthought, because maybe if Zayn knows how nervous he is then he’ll talk to Harry and make him feel better about this whole situation. It doesn’t work, because Zayn just continues to look at him, like he’s studying Harry, trying to analyze him. It makes Harry’s skin itch in the way that being judged does.
“I’m not a creep or anything, not like anyone who would call you is, but if that’s what you’re worried about, then you should know that I’m perfectly normal,” he says, looking at Zayn through his lashes, feeling embarrassed. “I’m married.”
“You’re not the first,” Zayn tells him and Harry nods, because of course not.
“There’s not much to our sex life,” Harry says, swallowing around the lump of embarrassment still wedged in his throat. Zayn is experienced; he’s probably done things that Harry hasn’t even read about yet, and things that would make his skin prickle with heat, things that he couldn’t even imagine trying. Not yet, at least. “I’ve tried talking to him, but he doesn’t listen very well. He’s stubborn, is the thing. Louis is. He gets set in his ways and it’s hard to communicate with him sometimes, so I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Besides to call for me.”
“Yeah. I’m just curious. There’s a lot out there and I’m just. I don't know what I’m doing, and Louis doesn’t want to try anything.” Harry sighs, finally looking up to see Zayn’s watching him carefully, studying him some more. It’s not as judgmental now, however. “I just want to know if it’s worth pursuing. It’s hard to talk to Louis when I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
Zayn nods, his answer delayed as the waitress comes back with their meals, setting their plates down in front of them. Zayn smiles at her, waits until she’s out of earshot before he turns back towards Harry. “You’re not the first married man to call.”
“Are they inexperienced too?” Harry asks, biting down on his bottom lip. He watches Zayn sigh, fingers moving through his hair.
“Not always, but there are some.” The corner of Zayn’s lip twitches up in the faintest trace of a smile and that’s the most Harry is going to get out of him, he knows. “At least you’re not a virgin.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, but that’s inexperienced. You have something at least.” Zayn sighs once more, because Harry knows that he’s giving him a look, some kind of look. “I’m not trying to insult those people, I’m just saying that there are actual people out there with no experience, who are more scared than you to do this. Trust me.”
Harry nods, he understands that and he’s grateful that Zayn is trying to comfort him to some degree. It only helps a little, to know that there are people out there that are walking around even blinder than he is, but he suspects that even some of them know more than he does. Some of them might understand some of the things that he’s read about. They might see the appeal to getting your ass slapped, or being choked. Harry doesn’t, but that’s why he’s here, to learn.
“What’s wrong with your husband?” Zayn asks, taking an obnoxiously large bite of his sandwich, bits of food stick out of his mouth. “Like, besides the fact he’s a shit listener and won’t compromise. In the bedroom, what’s wrong with him?”
“It’s not just him,” Harry clarifies, wanting to come to Louis defense. “Neither of us really knows what we’re doing.”
Zayn rolls his eyes. “I didn’t ask that.”
“He only likes it when…you know; I’m the one inside him. And we only do it one way, so we’ve never tried you know, positions and stuff.”
Zayn nods, swallowing his food before he says, “So you’ve never done anything, huh?”
Harry sighs, shaking his head. Zayn just nods once more, and it’s the first time that Harry doesn’t feel like he’s being judged, but that Zayn is just accepting the information that Harry offers him. And Harry’s sure that Zayn has heard worse, has dealt with worse, but he’s grateful that he’s not mocking Harry for this.
)()()(
Back at the hotel, Harry begins to grow even more nervous. He’s shaking, unable to control his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for what comes next. Zayn’s watching him and Harry’s trying his hardest to look confident, to show how much he wants this, because he does. He wants this more than anything, but there’s a bundle of fear trapped in his chest. The kind of fear that comes with trying something for the very first time and being unsure of what’s going to come of it.
Zayn must be tired of watching him, because he sighs, sitting down on the bed next to Harry and working off his boots. “We don’t have to go through with this.”
“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. He clears his throat, wanting to sound confident. “I’m just. I don’t—Usually the lights are off.”
“You want me to turn them off?”
Harry shakes his head, that’s too much like what he has at home. Harry wants this to be different. “No, but maybe we could—I don’t know, do you think we can make it just a little darker?”
Zayn nods, moving swiftly across the room to flip the big light off. It takes away most of the glow of the room, but there’s still the harsh light on the desk, making things brighter than Harry wants. But Zayn has a solution for that, of course he does. He pulls his jacket off, tossing it over the back of the chair before his sweater follows, except he tosses that over the lampshade, the room dimming almost immediately. It’s not dark, not by any means, but it’s enough that Harry can feel his bones begin to settle under his skin, calming him.
“Thanks,” Harry tells him, breathing out a sigh of relief. He smiles at Zayn, trying his hardest not to admire the way the dim light makes Zayn glow.
“Have you thought about what you wanted to do?”
“Yeah, I um,” Harry clears his throat, looking into Zayn’s eyes, “I want you to fuck me.”It’s the most blunt Harry’s been about sex in a while, but it’s the only way he knows how to show Zayn that he really is okay with this, that he wants this, all of it.
“That’s it?” Harry nods and Zayn laughs, shaking his head. “That’s what you want, really? That’s your idea of a grand affair?”
Harry bites his lip, hanging his head in shame when he tells Zayn, “It’s never happened to me before.” He glances at Zayn after a few seconds of silence only to find Zayn looking at him thoughtfully and a bit sympathetically.
“Okay,” Zayn says, nodding. “If that’s what you want.”
“I read you should start small, to not overwhelm yourself.”
“Stand up,” Zayn tells him and Harry does it cautiously, frowning at Zayn, watching as he steps forward slowly. He touches Harry’s shoulders first, dragging his hands down his chest, stopping at the hem of his shirt. “You have to tell me what you want as we do this, and you have to tell me when to stop if it crosses a line you’re not comfortable with. Those are the rules.”
“Okay.”
Zayn nods once more before he pulls Harry’s shirt off, dropping it down on the floor. Harry has to shove all thoughts of Louis out of his mind, because the only thing he can think about is how different things are already. How he and Louis get undressed in the dark, without each other’s help.
“Tell me when it’s too much,” Zayn whispers, right before he presses his lips to Harry’s, fingertips digging into Harry’s sides.
It takes a minute for Harry to work up the courage to kiss back. He doesn’t feel like he knows what he’s doing, not until his mouth drops open at the feeling of Zayn’s palm pressing against his cock, then his mind snaps into motion. He brings his hands up, cupping the back of Zayn’s neck and holding onto him, trying to anchor himself to the ground.
Kissing Zayn feels like he’s drowning, his head can’t keep up with any of it. He barely registers the feeling of Zayn unbuttoning his jeans until Zayn’s hand wraps around him, forcing a moan out of Harry. Zayn swallows it down, tongue gliding across the roof of his mouth. He refuses to let Harry pull away as he strokes him, thumb brushing against his slit, forcing a shudder out of Harry. A full body tremble. There hasn’t been a hand on Harry’s cock besides his own in years, he’s forgotten how good it feels, the feeling of someone else’s skin dragging against his.
Zayn’s hands are rough, an obvious sign that he uses them frequently in some capacity. He’s very good with them, in Harry’s inexperienced opinion.
Zayn pulls away from the kiss first, lips moving down Harry’s jaw to his neck. He doesn’t bite down, doesn’t do anything to leave a mark, but the feeling of his lips against Harry’s skin makes him shiver, his hips bucking up into Zayn’s hand involuntarily.
“Has anyone ever sucked you before?” Zayn asks, breathing the words out into Harry’s ear and Harry groans, shaking his head. “Never?”
“Louis did it a few times when we were younger, but he was never into it. I didn’t want to force him.”
“Well, I guess it’s time to change that,” Zayn says, pulling away from Harry. And Harry wants to tell him that’s not necessary, wants to tell him that he should be doing something for Zayn, a favor for doing this, even if it’s his job. Harry hates that detail of it, so he swallows it down, along with his urge to offer his mouth to Zayn as his jeans are being yanked down. He steps out of them, and his boxers, standing stark naked in front of Zayn.
It’s uncomfortable, to feel so exposed, but Zayn’s doing nothing but admiring him, licking his lips as he stares at Harry. It’s flattering, makes his stomach flip to see someone so openly admiring him, and he wants to mutter a thank you but he chokes on it as Zayn’s tongue flicks out against his slit.
“Holy shit,” Harry breathes out, knees shaking. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands; it doesn’t seem polite to grip onto Zayn’s hair. He holds them awkwardly at his sides, hands clenched into fists as Zayn licks him one more time, tracing the vein on the underside of his cock before he swallows him down. Harry forgets about manners then, his hands gripping onto Zayn’s hair harshly.
Zayn glares up at him, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing, his mouth and tongue working Harry’s cock further down his throat. Every nerve in Harry’s body feels like it’s on fire. And it’s a struggle not to rock his hips forward, not to feel just how forgiving Zayn’s jaw can be for him.
But Harry doesn’t have to shift his hips, because Zayn pulls off, breathing deeply for a moment as he strokes Harry’s dick languidly, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. There’s something behind his eyes and Harry wants to ask if this is okay, if he wants to stop or needs a break, but then Zayn’s swallowing him down again, mouth dropping open impossibly wide and Harry chokes on his question. He forgets that he even had one, can only concentrate on the impossible heat surrounding him.
“Zayn,” Harry groans, because his stomach is coiling in pleasure and he doesn’t want to come like this, because he didn’t come here to be sucked off. He wants to be fucked. But Zayn’s head is bobbing, mouth hollowing out as his hand continues to stroke Harry in sync with the movements of his mouth. And Harry can only take so much before he’s coming, hot spurts of come into Zayn’s mouth. His vision goes white with it, as his orgasm rolls through him in waves.
Zayn swallows it down, stroking Harry through it until Harry jerks back, watching as Zayn wipes at his mouth.
“You were supposed to have sex with me,” Harry says breathlessly, dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed. His legs feel like jelly and just that one orgasm is better than any of the ones he’s had in at least the past year. He can’t remember the last time his legs shook, his toes curled, and his vision went out for the briefest of seconds. It was amazing, but it’s not what he wanted. “I thought—I mean, I told you.”
“If you’re going to have an affair, it’s going to be worth it,” Zayn tells him. “Budge up. Go rest on the pillows.”
“Why?” Harry asks, trying his best to glare at Zayn. He only laughs, and Harry has to look away when he sees that Zayn’s stepping out of his jeans finally, standing stark naked at the side of the bed.
“Come up here.”
Harry sighs but listens, sliding back until his head hits the headboard. He can feel Zayn looking at him, watching him carefully before the other boy sighs, shifting until he’s laying on top of Harry, heavy cock lined up perfectly with Harry’s.
“I’m still going to fuck you. Won’t let you leave until it happens,” Zayn murmurs quietly, brushing sweaty curls off Harry’s forehead. “It might be shocking to you, but there’s a lot more to sex than just me sticking my dick inside of you.”
“So I’m finding out,” Harry says quietly, sighing. “Should I do something for you?” He asks, when the pressure of Zayn’s cock against his own becomes too much. “I could do something.”
Zayn shakes his head, shifting off of Harry now that he finally has his attention. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” he says and Harry frowns, because he’s read enough to know that sex shouldn’t just be about one person. It should be about two. And granted those articles are written about couples and Zayn’s just some guy that Harry’s paying to fuck him, but they could still apply in this case. The articles never actually said not to use these in any other situation, so Harry’s sure of it, really.
But before Harry can strike up a solid argument as to why Zayn should let him, Zayn kisses him. Soft lips pressed against Harry’s, skillful fingers gripping onto his hips and pulling him closer. Their bodies are pressed flush together, making it so Harry can feel every breath, every muscle twitch of Zayn’s body, especially in his cock. Most definitely in his cock, actually. It’s so hard and so heavy where it’s pressing against Harry’s skin.
It’s almost fascinating to Harry, the act of being intimate with someone post orgasm. It’s not unknown territory, but it is forgotten territory, a place that he hasn’t been in a long time. It’s almost nostalgic, kissing Zayn with everything that he has all tongue and teeth laced with desire and desperation.
What’s even more fascinating is how quickly it takes Harry to get hard again, how quickly little waves of pleasure start coursing through his blood again. And it’s all because of Zayn, his light touches and careful kisses making him want nothing more than to fuck Zayn himself, but that’s not—that’s not really what Harry wants. Not at all. He wants to feel the pressure of having Zayn buried inside of him, wants to feel the drag of his cock inside of him. It makes his head spin, makes him kiss Zayn just a little deeper.
“Think I could fuck you now?” Zayn asks, lips moving against Harry’s jaw.
Harry nods eagerly, mouth unable to form words until Zayn bites down on his pulse point, forcing a gasp out of him. “Yes. Please, yes.”
Zayn presses one last kiss to his cheek before he pulls away, flicking his hair out of his eyes. He smiles down at Harry before he steps off the bed, moving quickly to get what Harry can only assume is a condom and a bottle of lube. Harry says a silent thank you to whomever he can that Zayn remembered, because Harry hadn’t. He was unprepared and who knows what might have happened.
“We’re not going to try anything fancy, yeah? Just you on your back,” Zayn tells him, coating his fingers generously.
“I can do fancy,” Harry says, sliding up just a bit so he’s not lying completely on his back. That’s too reminiscent of what he has at home, Louis lying flat against the bed. Harry wants to be propped up, at the very least. “I can do it.”
“Didn’t say that,” Zayn says and he stops a response from Harry when his fingers ghost over Harry’s rim, ever so lightly. “We’re doing this properly, so tell me when you’re good.”
Harry nods, gripping onto the sheets to prepare himself as Zayn’s finger presses inside of him. It’s not…unpleasant. It’s different, though. But Harry can take it; he can handle the feeling of one finger inside of him. Zayn twists it around experimentally, shifting in and out of him slowly and carefully.
It’s beginning to go from slightly uncomfortable to overwhelmingly pleasurable, Zayn’s finger curling in just the right places. Until Zayn adds another finger, which definitely shifts over into unpleasant and uncomfortable for a moment.
“Relax,” Zayn tells him, kissing his thigh. “Just relax.”
Harry breathes out, shifting his hips around so that his thighs fall open a little more. He unclenches the blankets and just focuses on breathing, focuses on the feeling of someone being inside of him. Harry’s focusing on it so much that he doesn’t register Zayn’s been sucking marks into the inner curve of his thighs. And for a fleeting moment, the only thought Harry can muster is that it’s not like anyone is going to see it. No one besides Harry really pays his naked body any attention.
Unless you count Zayn, which Harry thinks he might after this.
Two becomes three and suddenly Harry’s panting, rocking his hips back and helping Zayn fuck into him. With his fingers. It’s Zayn’s fingers inside of him, making his back arc off the bed. Harry could come just like this, from Zayn’s mouth against his thigh and fingers knuckles deep inside of him. It’s too much. It’s so much to take in and his brain is having trouble processing it all because the only thing he can focus on is how good it all feels. How good Zayn’s making him feel.
Zayn pulls his fingers out slowly and Harry has to refrain from whining and pouting like a child because is it too much to ask that he be fucked like he wants to? Like he’s asked? Like he’s fucking paying for?
“What now?” Harry groans, sitting up to see the smirk on Zayn’s face as he rolls the condom on. And okay. That’s good. More than good, actually.
Zayn seems to be using all of his self control when he asks, “Are you sure this is what you want?” And all Harry can do is nod, because yeah. He wants this. He wouldn’t have made it passed the hotel parking lot if he didn’t. “You have to say it.”
“I’m sure,” Harry tells him and that’s all it takes for Zayn to push inside of him slowly, all while trying his best to do it carefully.
Zayn really is trying but it burns and it’s uncomfortable and Harry feel so unbelievably full. It’s unlike anything he ever imagined, being stretched so open. And it’s nearly impossibly not to tighten his muscles as he feels Zayn sink further inside of him. He’s saying something to Harry, but Harry can’t—he can’t focus. There’s nothing in his head besides him wondering if this is what it’s always like, always so spread open and filled.
But Zayn’s words are cutting through the haze, reminding him that he needs to relax. So Harry breathes out, loosens his grip on Zayn’s biceps and focuses on something else, on the feeling of Zayn’s lips against his throat.
It takes several minutes but then Harry can feel his body relaxing slightly, enough that it’s no longer as miserable as it felt in the beginning, but it’s still uncomfortable because he needs Zayn to move. He needs him to fucking do something besides what he’s doing…which is nothing.
“Can you do something?” Harry grits out, shifting his hips a bit and Zayn nods, pulling out slowly. And that’s not—Oh. He’s beginning to rock his hips back and forth, and okay. Harry. Yeah.
The weight of Zayn’s body on his, the feeling of him shifting around inside of him makes his brain short circuit. He’s so full and so stretched. It’s amazing. Harry can’t say anything about Zayn’s technique – which Harry thinks is amazing – but just the feeling of having someone else inside of him is better than he ever expected. Part of him wonders if that’s why Louis always wants to have sex this way, with Harry buried deep in him, because of how great it is.
“Shift your legs,” Zayn instructs, hips still rocking into him as he taps the side of Harry’s thigh, and Harry doesn’t know what he means, but he spreads his legs wider, as wide as he can and pulls them up a little. “Around me.”
Harry nods, wrapping them around Zayn and oh god, he groans, back arching slightly. He doesn’t know what it is but Zayn’s rubbing against just the right places that leave Harry gripping onto him, panting slightly.
“Feel good?” Zayn asks.
Harry nods, breathing out a quiet, “Yeah.” It makes Zayn laugh, breath ghosting against Harry’s cheek. It shouldn’t make Harry’s cock twitch, the feeling of Zayn’s hot breath on his skin, but that doesn’t stop it from happening. “Oh god,” Harry groans out as Zayn’s hips pick up a rhythm, fucking into Harry harder and faster than before.
Harry wants Zayn to touch him, every little bit of him. He wants Zayn to elicit pleasure from every inch of his body, because everywhere Zayn touches feels like tiny sparks against his skin.
“Can you come just like this?” Zayn asks him, lips moving against Harry’s now. “Can you come from just having me inside of you, nothing else?”
Harry wants to ask what else there is but all he can do is moan when Zayn bites down on his bottom lip, hips rocking even faster now. He grips onto Zayn’s back, digs his heels into Zayn’s skin so that he can press him closer, get Zayn in a little deeper because his stomach is knotting up and he knows that he’s not going to last much longer.
Definitely not much longer with the noises that Zayn’s making, these tiny whimpering sounds as he tries to hold back, tries to hide the same moans of pleasure that are spilling from Harry’s lips so easily. All they’re doing is bringing Harry that much closer to the edge.
He wants to warn Zayn but the only thing he can get out is “I—I—oh god, Zayn,” before he’s coming across his own stomach. The moan feels like it’s being ripped from his feet as his muscles go rigid, toes curling, and it’s all so fucking good.
Harry comes to the same time that Zayn shoots inside of him, groaning and biting down on the flesh of Harry’s shoulder. He pats Zayn’s back, rubbing circles onto his clammy skin as Zayn shakes above him.
They lie there together for a moment; Zayn breathing out against Harry’s neck while Harry rubs his back. It’s the most intimate moment that Harry’s shared with anyone in years. It leaves an ache in his chest, because that’s one realization that Harry hadn’t anticipated having tonight.
Zayn pulls out of him carefully and Harry can’t help but whine a bit, because how can you go from being so full to so empty so quickly? It doesn’t make sense to him. But it gives Harry a moment to catch his breath, gives him a minute to try and figure out his thoughts. Harry has a ton of them, thoughts, that is. He’s torn on how he should be feeling, so he lies in bed, breathing deeply and hoping he’ll get some of the feeling back in his legs.
)()()(
Harry tries not to stare at Zayn as he pulls his boots on, not sure if he’s allowed to look at Zayn’s naked body as he smokes a cigarette out the window.
When he’s finished, standing completely dressed on the other side of the room, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, not for the first time this evening. A part of him wants to stay and talk, because they’ve just had sex. The first sex Harry has had with anyone other than Louis in his entire life. Harry wants to know more, even if it’s just for himself. He wants to know more about the boy on the other side of the room.
But Harry doesn’t have permission to get that information, because he paid for Zayn. He paid for his time with him, for a moment with his body, not with his mind. So despite the feeling in his gut, the desire to stay and to talk, he fights it down, clearing his throat.
“The room is yours for the night,” Harry tells him, watching Zayn breathe out smoke into the night. “The check out process is over by that computer looking thing, all you have to do is push a few buttons.” He pauses for a moment, waiting to see if Zayn’s going to say anything. He doesn’t, Harry knew he wouldn’t. “I’ve left enough money for you to cover all the hours until morning.”
Zayn finally turns to look at him, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do that.”
Harry shrugs. “I do.”
“Well, then I hope you got what you were looking for, Harry,” Zayn says, flicking his cigarette out the window. He smiles uncertainly at Harry, shrugging his shoulders.
Harry smiles back at him, because after this, Harry’s certain that what he wants doesn’t encompass anything outside of these four walls. Harry’s certain that he wants more, wants to try more, and wants to feel more. They didn’t do much tonight, but they’ve opened the door, and Harry’s not sure how he’s ever supposed to go back to what he had.