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Liam knows he has to be quiet. He knows Harry told him to be and he knows the others are just the other side of the wall and he knows he can't yell, but Harry's fingers are really long and slippery and sliding inside him, the way he loves, insistent and deep.
"Harry," he whispers, face burning, letting his head hang down between his shoulders. Of all the crazy things that have happened to him since he walked out onto the stage at the first X Factor audition - all the places they've performed, the awards they've won, the screaming crowds - sometimes, just this, on his hands and knees on a hotel bed with a boy's fingers inside his arse, and Liam loving it the way he does, feels like the craziest thing of all.
"Shhh," reminds Harry, wedging a second finger in and making a quiet tutting noise when Liam grinds his teeth shut on a strangled groan. "Don't want the others to know, do you?"
Liam thinks Harry knows what that does to Liam, and that's why he asks - thinks he knows the blaring horrified mix of shame and arousal that surges through Liam when he thinks about that, about the other lads hearing him cry out, wail for Harry's dick because he wants it so much. Harry always says that - says, be quiet Liam, or the boys will know how much you like this, and that would be embarrassing, you'd hate that - and Liam would, it's mortifying to think of, so mortifying his cock jerks and his balls seize up and he goes shivery and hot all over, light headed. Liam thinks maybe there's something a bit wrong with him.
Liam just shakes his head, arms trembling. "N-no, oh," he stutters as Harry prods the tip of his third finger in, wriggles until it pops wetly into the clutch of Liam's arsehole. Liam takes big, open-mouthed panting breaths, trying to keep quiet.
"Good," says Harry. "Won't give you my cock if you're not quiet."
Liam's arms unlock and he drops down onto his elbows, sets his mouth into his forearm right over the arrow tatts and digs his teeth in, screws his eyes shut, because Harry has three fingers in now, slid deep, moving, rubbing shallow circles over his prostate, making his cock jump and orgasm threaten in hot giddy rushes in his belly.
He doesn't realise he's groaning into his arm until Harry stops and draws his fingers out completely. Liam moans again at the loss, hisses when he unlatches his teeth from his arm, and says, panicked, "Sorry--"
"I told you to be quiet, Li."
"Sorry, I--" because Liam really, really wants Harry's cock, but Harry had said--
"Reckon I'll just have to keep you quiet myself."
Liam doesn't know what he means for a second, and all he can hear is Harry rustling behind him, the tear of the condom packet - oh, thank god - but then he does. Because - god - Harry's hand rubs soothingly up his back, squeezes the back of his neck, bumps at his jaw and then his long fingers are sliding over Liam's mouth.
"There we go," says Harry in satisfaction. "Ready for anything."
Harry's hand is big and warm, and it feels like it covers half his face, his thumb at one corner of his jaw and fingers stretching to the other, his palm wide and firm over Liam's mouth. Liam's lips were half open, so he can taste Harry's skin a bit, and he has to take deep breaths through his nose, Harry completely covering his mouth. He makes an experimental noise, then a real helpless one as Harry nudges the big head of his cock up against Liam's arse.
Liam's hole twitches eagerly, opening up for Harry, who's big but slippery with lube and the smooth condom. Liam takes him easily, and Harry pushes in relentlessly, spreading Liam open.
There's no way - no way Liam can keep quiet, not with the full fat length of Harry's dick fucked into him, and he's moaning, probably would be yelling if Harry's hand weren't there, big and firm and tightening until Liam can feel the slight bite of his fingernails in his cheeks. It's so - it's almost too much, Liam held between Harry's hand on his mouth, dick in his arse, just pinned inexorably by him at both ends, and Liam can feel his eyes roll back in his head as Harry starts to fuck him properly. He knows exactly what to say and what to do, exactly how to fuck Liam; does it like he does everything he knows he's good at, slow and lazily confident. He's the only one Liam could have asked for this. The only one who gets it and doesn't make a big deal out of it but makes sure Liam gets exactly what he wants.
Or doesn't get it, because Harry is a bastard sometimes. Harry is fucking him properly, with even, deep strokes, nailing Liam's prostate half the time, feeling so incredibly good inside Liam, big and solid; but apart from the hand on his mouth, a steadying hand on his hip, and dick in his arse, of course, he isn't touching Liam anywhere. And Liam - god, Liam loves this, being fucked, but he needs a hand on him to come, he can't - he never has before, never come just like this.
His dick is so hard, standing up flat against his belly, and his balls are swollen and tight, drawn up to his body, and Harry is slowing down, grinding his prick into Liam hard, rubbing right over his prostate, making him yell sobs into Harry's restraining hand.
"Sorry, mate," says Harry, finally sounding breathless. "No free hands, have I?"
Liam shudders, and his cock jumps, and he thinks, maybe, but he doesn't come, just rides the edge, his cock blurting a gooey mess of precome that smears on his belly and dribbles onto the bed. He yells a noise that wants to be "Please!" into Harry's hand, and Harry just laughs, keeps on fucking him, going a bit faster now so over the roaring in his eyes and the harsh sound of his breath through his nose Liam can hear the faint slap of Harry's hips against his arse and thighs.
Even with Harry's hand over his mouth they aren't exactly quiet, god.
His throat hurts, and he wants to come; his cock feels massive and straining, his balls full, ready to nut off all over the bed, but he can't, his body won't let him reach it; the only touch he's getting is when Harry fucks him hard enough his cock bounces up against his belly, a wet flash of feeling as the sensitive ridge of his cock smacks against his skin, but not - not quite--
He feels giddy and reckless and on the edge, and he snaps at Harry's palm, trying to bite, wants to force him to get Liam off; but Harry just laughs at him, calls him "Naughty," and tightens his hand so it nearly hurts, immobilising Liam's jaw so he can't snap, pressing so hard Liam's head is forced backwards.
"You're gonna have to get yourself there, mate," Harry says, slow and hot into Liam's ear, bending in close as he keeps pounding in. "If I let go you're just going to scream, aren't you, you're screaming now, getting my hand all wet, 'cause you can't keep it in when my dick's in you, and if I took my hand away, everyone would hear it, wouldn't they, Liam? I have to keep you fuckin' gagged because otherwise everyone in this hotel would know - the boys, the band, Paul, the fans outside - all know how much you love cock--"
He moves his hand just a little, and panic and hope surge wildly in Liam in a hot dizzying rush that he's gonna do that, take his hand away and let everyone hear, 'cause no way Liam can keep the sound in himself - but Harry just repositions a bit, moves his hand a bit higher, and clamps down agains. He's covering Liam's nose along with his mouth and Liam can't breathe. He tries, sucks in air and gets nothing, his chest seizing up and adrenaline flashing white-hot through him, and that's it, it's enough, it tricks his body into letting go, and he's coming.
It's intense and wrenching, and he can feel it, never been more aware of his orgasm, his slit opening around thick pulses of come that arc up his chest and spatter on the bed, cock straining and jerking into nothing as it happens, as he fucking comes untouched on Harry's cock.
His vision starts to sparkle around the edges just before Harry takes his hand away, and Liam sucks in massive great breaths, the relief of getting air and the tail end of his orgasm turning him helplessly silent. His mouth feels wet and swollen and hot and his jaw aches from the pressure of Harry's fingers.
Harry grabs both Liam's hips and rams into him hard, his rhythm different now, a selfish shallower rhythm now Liam's come, to get himself there. He does with a groan, a quiet, intimate one right into Liam's ear, as if to make a point - this is how you stay quiet.
Liam falls down onto the bed like a puppet with cut strings, panting open mouthed against the pillow, smearing his chest in his own come, which will be gross soon but at the moment Liam can't feel his toes.
Harry pulls out carefully, and arranges himself next to Liam with a deep, contented sigh. When Liam forces his eyes open, he can see Harry watching him closely, fondly, maybe a bit concerned.
Liam licks his lips and tastes the slight salt of Harry's skin still on them. His throat feels raw and hot and he's a bit worried about interviews tomorrow, but he feels un-bloody-believable, so he won't let himself worry about it just yet.
"You alright, mate?" says Harry.
"Er," says Liam, and clears his throat. "Yeah."
Harry beams at him then. "Good," he says simply.
Liam's embarrassment is rising at the same rate feeling is coming back to his extremities. God, he gets so weird sometimes. "So um, you know," he says incoherently. "Thanks?"
Harry keeps smiling, and then reaches out to catch the hand Liam's about to rub over his hot face. "Any time, I mean it." He drops Liams hand and flicks him in the middle of the forehead, and giggles at whatever face Liam makes before leaning over to kiss where he flicked. "Good night, and sleep well, young Payne," he intones seriously.
"Young?" Liam scoffs. Somehow Harry always makes him feel better about being - weird. "You wish, baby Styles."
Harry puts his finger to his mouth crossly. "Shh," he says, "before I have to gag you again."
Liam blushes.