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It’s Louis’ idea.
Most of the things they get up to – especially if it involves something their handlers would kill them for or something that generally causes a great deal of chaos (almost everything when it comes to them, really) – usually start that way. Louis has the best and the worst ideas, and a lot of the time, Harry is quite sure he’s been put on this earth to torture him. Exquisite, insane, slow torture that Harry walks into more than willingly, but torture all the same.
It starts with Niall waking him up in the morning by jumping on the bed and Louis’ voice blasting over the phone through the speakers they may or may not have bought specifically for this purpose. After all, if they have to be separated into different hotels, they’re not going to do it quietly and they’re certainly not going to let that ruin their fun.
"Harry, wake up!" Louis yells, and Niall jumps on him again for good measure. "I’ve had a brilliant idea."
Harry groans and tries to roll over only to find that Niall’s straddling him, keeping his legs pinned in place. He pulls the pillow out from under his head and presses it over his face.
"Go ‘way," he mumbles, knowing the protest is futile even before the words are out of his mouth. If Louis has had an idea and he’s called Niall, then Liam and Zayn are probably already on board with it – and if that idea involves Harry (which it pretty much always does), Harry’s not getting out of it.
Harry can guess what the next words are going to be and he steels himself for them. "Tickle him, Niall."
He gives an undignified squawk as Niall’s clever fingers make contact, and the pillow goes flying out of his hands as he flails, wriggling and laughing at the same time. When Niall stops, Harry’s breathless, Niall’s grinning and he can hear Louis, Liam and Zayn trying to stifle their own laughter on the other end of the line. It makes him grin like a loon. There are worse ways to wake up in the morning.
"Now, Harry," Liam says. "Louis’ had the most brilliant idea." That’s the moment that Harry knows he’s absolutely screwed. Liam’s on board and he sounds so incredibly excited about it.
"It’s amazing," Zayn adds. Harry is so screwed.
Niall is still grinning at him like the crazy person that he is. Harry sighs and flops backwards onto his bed.
"What is it?" he asks, already terrified of the answer. Niall’s grin widens and he holds up a small box. Harry recognises that box. It’s one of the many, many, many "souvenirs" they bought in Amsterdam. Really, whose idea was it to let them loose in Amsterdam anyway? Harry really just hopes they never get stopped by customs because he doesn’t really fancy the idea of being on the news with the world’s largest collection of sex toys. They’re already far too famous for far too many weird things for their own good. "Oh god, tell me you’re joking." All he hears is muffled laughter, fond and knowing, on the other end of the line. "God, please, guys, tell me you’re joking."
"Nope," Niall announces, looking way too pleased with himself. "I’m under strict orders from our great and mighty leader – "
"That’ll be me," Louis adds, as if they didn’t already know. As if this wasn’t already a routine.
"To ensure that you are both as comfortable – and as uncomfortable – as possible for the duration of the day." Oh god, he’s going to die. But that’s apparently not all, because Zayn adds, "and night," with a smugness that almost chokes Harry with its certainty.
He’s going to die.
They give him a few minutes to let that sink in. "Okay?" Louis asks, voice softer now, a genuine question. This is where they give Harry the chance to back out, let Harry make the call, and that’s what always warms Harry up inside. He’s a sure bet, but none of them would ever assume.
"Okay," he says, voice raspier just from the thought of it. "Yes, okay."
Niall shifts off him, putting the phone down by Harry’s head, retrieving the pillow from the floor and urging Harry to shift so he can slide it under Harry’s hips. Harry is already breathing faster and he’d be embarrassed – it’s so loud that he’s sure Louis and Liam and Zayn can all hear it over the phone – but he can hear them too and he knows they’re not doing much better.
"Okay," Niall says to all of them. "He’s settled." And Harry knows they’re all seeing the picture in their minds, as clear as day. His arse lifted, legs spread, head tipped a little back, turned a little towards the phone, flush starting to creep down his neck.
"What’s your safeword, love?" Louis prompts. They know it. They all know it, but Louis has never, ever taken that for granted either.
"Jimmy." It still makes them all smile.
"All right," Louis says. "Let’s do it, Nialler."
Harry feels Niall sliding the cock ring into place just as his slick finger presses in slowly and he can’t help stifling a low, too-loud moan.
"Don’t." Zayn’s voice comes through the haze Harry’s already started dropping into, loud and clear and sharp. "Don’t hold those sounds back, Haz. We can’t see you so let us hear you."
"Oh god," Harry stutter-moans as Niall presses the finger deeper, and he moans louder when he hears someone’s – he’s not even sure which of them – breath catch on the other end of the line.
"How’s he look, Nialler?" Liam breathes, voice gone low and rough, and god, Harry loves his voice like that.
"Good," Niall answers, working the finger in deeper, and Harry can’t help watching him, watching his face, his expression, watches the way it shifts as he works Harry open – as he describes Harry to the lads. "So fucking good, you can’t even imagine. He’s already gone all pliant and his eyes – fuck, lads, if you were here, don’t think we’d be able to keep our hands off him."
There’s a moan from the phone and Harry echoes it with another one of his own.
"His mouth’s parted – think you can hear him panting – and that’s just one finger."
"Add another," Louis says, and Harry feels another digit pressing in slowly next to the first. He can always tell when it’s Niall because his guitar-calloused fingers catch differently against his skin than anyone else’s (and Liam’s are thicker, Zayn’s are longer, Louis’ are delicate and so, so clever), and Harry spreads his legs wider, accommodating him.
"God, you love this so much, don’t you, Harry? Spreading so easily for us. You look so fucking amazing right now, and you’re just begging for more."
Someone says something else, Harry thinks. Maybe asks Niall a question. But Harry doesn’t hear it because it happens at the exact same moment that Niall crooks his fingers and - there - hits his prostate with practiced ease. Practiced or not, Harry whites out for a moment as pleasure courses through his blood, hot and burning and brilliant, and he no longer has any control over his limbs.
When he can hear again, Niall’s swearing softly, and there’s more panting and a steady, changing, mingled music of their moans through the phone and throughout the room. This is Harry’s favourite kind of music, he thinks absently. It’s his absolute favourite song, most of all because it’s private and it’s theirs and it’s perfect.
"I want to fuck him already," Niall says, and Harry has to fist a hand into the sheets because god, he wants that. He wants to be filled. He wants them here now and he wants – "He’s thinking about it too, aren’t you, Harry?" Harry nods, can’t find the words to answer him, knows he should because the others aren’t here, they can’t see – but he can’t. Niall’s got his back though. "Yeah," Niall says again. "Yeah, you are. You’re thinking of us, already thinking about how we’re gonna feel, how we’re gonna taste, how we’re gonna wreck you."
Yes. Yes, yes, yes – and he hears laughter, breathlessly and threaded with desire from the speakers, and he realises he’s been saying it out loud.
"Jesus, Hazza," Liam says, Harry’s name catching a little in a way that Harry knows means he’s either working a hand over himself or, more likely, Zayn’s sucking him off.
"Later," Louis promises, and his voice has gone low with arousal, deep and gorgeous and overwhelming with need and want and – and Harry can’t wait. "Later, I promise."
That’s when Harry feels the cold, blunt, metallic head of the plug pressing in next to Niall’s fingers, feels his hole stretching further even as his body arches up and a small, surprised cry leaves his lips.
"Later," Niall echoes when Harry finally manages to focus on his face. He tugs the plug out again, slipping his fingers from the heat of Harry’s body at the same time, and then pushes it back in, eyes glued on where Harry’s muscles are working to stretch around the thickest part, watching as his body closes around the toy and keeps it snug inside. "Fuck, it looks so good there, Lou," Niall says.
"Knew it would," Louis replies. "Knew it when we picked it out, didn’t we? Knew it’d look so fucking perfect in our boy." Harry whimpers softly, shifting, adjusting to having the plug inside him. It’s not big – that wasn’t the point of it, there was another one in their bag for that – but it’s enough that his body has to work a little to adjust, enough that he’s not going to get used to it, that it’s going to be a constant pressure, constant demand of his focus, until they take it out of him. Later.
"How’s he look?" Zayn asks, and his voice is wrecked – evidence that Harry hadn’t been wrong in his guess; he’s had a cock down his throat and Liam’s panting louder than either of them, trying to listen and catch his breath at the same time.
"Edible," Niall says, and from him, that’s one hell of a compliment. "The fans are going to go crazy tonight." As if they didn’t every night. Niall runs his fingers over Harry’s cheek, and Harry leans into it automatically, watching Niall’s blue eyes go liquid as he smiles wider. "He already looks so well-fucked, and he’s just going to get more and more gorgeous as he gets more and more desperate, and it’s going to be something to see him trying to reign it in."
Louis laughs, deep and satisfied. "Perfect," he says, and Harry feels the word caress him like a touch. He hears Liam and Zayn echoes the word, and Harry smiles and closes his eyes, basking in the sound of the four boys around him.
It’s perfect.
They’re quiet for another few moments, just enjoying being with each other even if they aren’t with each other, and then Louis says softly, "We’ll see you two later."
Harry really doesn’t want him to hang up.
"Hey Niall," Zayn says as Niall reaches for his phone. "Take a picture before you let him get dressed, yeah? S’not fair if you keep the goods to yourself, mate."
Niall laughs as he leans down and kisses Harry, letting their lips linger as he brings the phone closer to their mouths – as he makes sure they can all hear it. "I’ll take a picture," he teases, "but it’s not going to be half as good as the real thing."
Niall hangs up to Zayn’s swearing and pulls back to snap the requested picture. He finally lets Harry up and, as Harry slips off the bed to get ready for the day, slaps his arse for good measure. The plug shifts inside him, Harry’s stomach clenches and he has to stop to keep his legs from buckling under him.
Niall laughs, delighted, and Harry bites back a whimper as he convinces his legs to start moving again.
It’s going to be a really fucking long day – and he’s so fucking screwed.
--
Harry isn’t wrong – it’s a really long day. Niall takes every opportunity to brush up against him and he has to take a few moments to just remember how to breathe every single time that it happens. Harry’s just glad they don’t get mobbed leaving the hotel - not badly anyway - and no one except Niall touches his arse. It’s not difficult to sign his name and smile for the fans, it’s become second nature for him, but he can’t focus on anything else and it would have been even harder if security had allowed any of those fans closer to him than the barriers.
When they meet up with the others, Louis crowds him against the wall of the changing room, kissing him hard and deep and possessive. He’s tugged forwards into Louis’ arms as Zayn slips behind him and helps him out of his clothes and by the time Louis pulls away, Harry’s naked.
Niall grins like he’s won the lottery as three pairs of eyes take him in hungrily.
"Turn around," Louis orders, and Harry doesn’t hesitate to obey. "Spread your legs and bend over."
Harry smiles as he hears the intake of breaths behind him - and then his own breath stutters as someone moves the plug, twists it inside him.
"Pull it out a little, Liam," Louis says, and Harry feels his hole stretching around the widest part of the plug. Liam doesn’t pull it all the way out - just keeps it there, makes Harry’s body work around the metal - and twists it in a slow circle.
"Fuck," Liam breathes. "That’s fucking beautiful."
He feels fingers against his skin, pressing in just beside the plug. Zayn’s fingers, he’s sure. And then Louis’. And they’re slipping in - just a little, just the tips - and catching on Harry’s hole, teasing, too little and too much all at once, and Harry moans. They let go - all of them at once - and the plug slides back inside and nestles snugly in his arse again. Louis pats him lightly.
"We definitely chose the right plug," Louis says as he wraps an arm around Harry’s waist and eases him back into an upright position, supporting him against his chest as Harry gets his legs back under him. "You look perfect, Haz."
Harry smiles, looking up and catching each of their eyes in turn. They’re all watching him - and he can’t help but shiver at that - shiver, smile and let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," he says softly, turning to nuzzle against Louis’ cheek.
Louis kisses him again before he nudges him at Liam - another kiss - Zayn - kiss - and Niall - and then they’re letting him go, steering him towards the clothes rack. Harry’s steps are a little unsteady, and he stares at his jeans in growing horror. He actually has to reach out and rest a hand against the wall when he slips into them, does up the button and can feel the shift of the plug every time he moves.
Zayn pats his arse once as they start towards the exit and grins at him, dark and devilish and perfect. "This is going to be fun," he says and laughs at Harry’s expression.
--
Harry is positive it’s fun for them. He knows it and because of that, it’s perfect. But he can barely focus on that - can barely focus on anything except getting the songs right, getting the moves right, not giving into his urge to sink onto his knees and just pant. He feels the music right through his bones, feels the screaming even deeper, and every time he sits down on any part of the stage, the vibrations make him want to sob.
It’s overwhelming and amazing and perfect.
His eyes are slightly glazed over, he knows, and he can’t focus on anything at all, but the lads are right there beside him, ready to give him a shoulder to lean on or pressing a hand to his back and steering him in the right direction. They whisper in his ear, and he’s not sure if that makes it better or worse, because every time it happens, Harry leans into it, feels himself slipping further under - but they also ground him, give him the order he needs to keep up some semblance of normalcy.
They’re brilliant and beautiful and perfect because they know him so well, know him as well as they know themselves (they all do), and they know when and how far they can push before they catch and steady him.
It’s difficult and they push him hard, keep him on the edge over and over again. Every time he moves, he feels his arousal burning a little hotter. Every time one of them touches him, he feels himself dropping, feels his world going fuzzy around the edges with the four of them the only things clear to him. Even the screaming of the crowd starts to dim into a dull roaring, their whispers and their voices far more prominent, far louder to Harry than everything around them.
By the time they bow, Harry can barely see anything. He almost doesn’t make it off the stage without falling over, and he stumbles blindly towards the changing rooms. Then they’re right there in his space, Louis pressing him in close against his chest, knee between his legs, keeping him from collapsing just in time. Zayn’s behind him, Liam and Niall to the side, and Louis’ claims his mouth as the others’ lips find his skin, murmuring praise, and praise, and praise – good boy, and so beautiful, and oursoursours – and Harry just keens, desperate and needy and oversensitive, shaking in their arms.
They take turns to holding him up, peeling layers off him until all his clothes are gone. He only notices because there’s a mouth latched onto his nipple, sucking and biting and he thinks he might scream if he could find his voice. There’s a hand on his cock – Niall’s, he thinks, it’s guitar calloused and – someone’s shifting the plug, pulling a little before letting it slide in again, over and over and over. Someone’s lips are on his neck, sucking hard enough that it’s going to leave a mark – and someone’s making a mewling-keeing noise. It takes him a moment to realise those noises are coming from him - and then the cock ring’s suddenly gone, and Louis’ whispering, "Come for us," in his ear and –
Harry’s world explodes.
He comes back to himself to find them watching him, smiles as brilliant as the sun. He’s still completely limp, unable to even manage words, held up by Liam’s arms around him and cradled securely between them all.
Zayn brushes back a wayward curl from Harry’s forehead and asks, "Okay, love?" And Harry manages a weak nod. He’s still not sure where he’s put his vocal chords.
"You were brilliant, Harry," Niall says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth.
"Fucking perfect," Liam adds, tightening his arms around Harry a little.
Harry smiles, warm and sleepy and – feels a finger sliding over his stomach a moment before Louis slides the come-covered digit over his lips and leans in to kiss it off him. And just like that, Harry feels the warm contentment change, that familiar slow burn starting all over again.
"You deserved that, Hazza," he says, teeth catching on Harry’s lower lip and tugging lightly. "You took all that so fucking beautifully. But we’re not done yet. Let’s get you presentable and somewhere private," he adds, the tone of his voice sending heat curling right through Harry. "We’ve been dying to get our hands on you properly all day."
--
The door of the room’s barely shut and Harry’s already lost his shirt.
He’s steadier, thanks to earlier in the changing room and the bus ride over. He’d spent it half in Louis’ lap, Niall pressed in close on his other side, stroking his hair, and Liam and Zayn watching from across the seat. They’d made him eat and drink and focus, hold it together enough to slip into the hotel with Niall as the others sneaked in around the back. To work on the album, they’d said – and their handlers had just rolled their eyes and pretended to believe them.
"Put the chain on the door, yeah?" Harry hears Liam say, and he thinks that that’s a great plan. The last thing they need is someone bursting in on them – and this way, no one can turn up to tell three of the four people that make up everything he needs right now to leave, but he doesn’t have a lot of time to dwell on that. Niall’s kissing his neck and ushering him through the suite into the bedroom, hands snaked around his waist to undo his jeans. He can hear the others following them through.
Harry kicks off his shoes and steps out of the material, never stopping the forward momentum, and within moments, he’s on his hands and knees on the bed, legs spread, back arched, arse in the air.
"Just like that," Niall breathes, running a hand over his spine, making Harry shiver. Niall’s hand lingers on the small of his back as he addresses the lads. "What d’you think?"
"Yeah," Liam says, but for a moment, no one comes any closer. Harry can only hear the swish-swish-swish of clothes being removed.
"Take the plug out, will you, Nialler?" Louis says, and Harry’s elbows almost buckle when Niall does, twisting once before he drags it out – all the way out - of him for the first time in a lot of hours. Harry feels the loss like a physical blow and he whines low in his throat, need spiraling out of the controlled climb that had started when they’d stepped into the room. His body feels empty and his arse clenches helplessly, muscles spasming as his body tries to find something to clamp around.
"Look at that," Zayn says, but it’s Louis’ finger that slides over his hole, tapping lightly, catching on the edges, teasing. Harry sobs, choked and wanting, rocking back into that before he registers he’s moved – but Louis feels it and lands a warning smack against his arse. Harry rocks forward with the momentum instead, choking back another soft sound. This time, his elbows buckle – and Niall’s right there easing him down, anticipating it. There’s a pillow under his head and he relaxes into it, turning his head to the side.
His arse is still clenching around air and he needs - he just needs something, anything – inside him so fucking badly he could cry. He clenches his fingers into the sheets and tips his arse up a little more, absolutely shameless. "Please," he chokes out as he feels Louis’ fingers – two, this time – against his hole again. "Please, Lou, please – pleasepleaseplease. God, please."
"So greedy," Louis says, but he sounds like he approves, and Harry doesn’t really care anymore because finally - finally - Louis slides his fingers inside him.
He opens his eyes – he hadn’t even realised he’d closed them - to a soft chuckle right in front of him, and Zayn’s there, stroking his hair back and leaning in for a slow, deep kiss. "Good?" he asks teasingly, and Harry nods as much as he can, rocking back helplessly into Louis’ knowing, clever fingers. He spots Liam behind Zayn as Zayn shifts, slides onto the bed to kneel by Harry’s head, and Harry’s breath catches because he knows what’s coming. He’s fucking desperate for it.
Zayn’s fingers curl into his hair and guides him forward, presses the tip of his cock to Harry’s lips, and Harry doesn’t hesitate – just opens up and lets Zayn slide into his mouth.
"Fuck," Zayn swears, and Liam echoes it, adds, "You’re so fucking good at that, Harry," and all Harry can do is moan around Zayn’s cock, flattening his tongue against the underside as Zayn nudges the back of his throat. Harry squeezes his eyes shut as Zayn keeps tugging, swallowing reflexively, and deepthroats him. Someone’s moaning and Harry’s just concentrating on breathing through his nose – and then he chokes on his own groan as Louis screws his fingers in deep, curls them and hits exactly the right spot.
Zayn’s pulled back enough that Harry can suck in a shaky sob – but not for long, and the next sound is muffled by Zayn’s cock, starting to thrust lazily into his mouth.
"Open your eyes, Haz," Louis orders, "Watch – look at Liam and Zayn. Look what you’re doing, darling," and Harry forces his eyes open, looks through the tears at the utter bliss on Zayn’s face, at Liam’s dark eyes watching him. He wants to close his eyes, completely overwhelmed, but he can’t. He can’t look away, especially when he feels-and-sees Zayn’s hips stutter in a way that makes him absolutely certain Liam’s pressing his fingers inside him, working him open as he fucks Harry’s mouth.
As if he wasn’t overwhelmed enough already, he feels Niall’s hand curl around his cock and oh god, he wants to close his eyes, wants to moan, wants to rock forwards and push back and breathe and swallow and – and he wants everything all at once, so much that he’s can’t process it.
Zayn bends over and Harry knows the exact moment Liam finds his prostate because he shakes, groans and pushes into Harry’s mouth without finesse, hand clenching hard in Harry’s hair. Harry chokes on his cock and flails helplessly, only to be pinned down by Louis’ hand against the back of his neck and Niall’s around his wrist.
"Easy," Louis says to him and to Zayn both, the touch turning lighter, caressing, easing, and Harry relaxes automatically. Zayn readjusts, stroking his hand through Harry’s apologetically before he guides Harry forward again. As if he even needed to apologise. Just the thought of Liam fucking Zayn, each thrust shoving Zayn deeper and deeper, harder and harder, completely wrecking Harry’s throat, forcing him to work, his mouth to stretch to accommodate Zayn – them – and the ache in his jaw… he wants it so badly he could cry.
But then he’s not thinking about that anymore – not thinking about it because he’s empty again – and he can’t help rocking back, searching for contact, just wants and needs to be filled and he’s not and – Louis’ grip is firm, fingers digging into his hips hard enough to bruise, steadying and reassuring all at once, and Harry forces himself to be still even though he needs -
"I know what you need," Louis reminds him softly, stroking his thumb over Harry’s skin. And then affectionately, "Greedy."
"Our greedy boy," Niall agrees, and Harry feels Niall’s lips against his neck at the same time as Niall’s hand against his cheek, pressing in, feeling Zayn moving in his mouth, adding to the ache in Harry’s jaw and –
Harry keens as Louis presses into him, hard and relentless and so fucking perfect. Through his tears he can see Zayn’s face, see his expression, see Liam’s over his shoulder. He just knows Liam’s doing the same thing, fucking slowly into Zayn with shallow thrusts, going deeper and deeper each time, making Zayn’s movements erratic. Harry gropes blindly to the side and just like that, Niall knows what he’s looking for. Niall laughs low and breathless and pleased and shifts so Harry can wrap his fingers around his’s cock.
Louis starts to fuck him, strokes long and slow and deep - exactly what he’s been so desperate for all night because god, it’s not been enough. Even plugged, he’s been wanting more, and now he’s surrounded and overwhelmed. He moans around Zayn’s cock.
Zayn’s climax takes him completely by surprise and he chokes on it – but Liam drags Zayn back, pulls until Zayn slips from Harry’s lips with an obscene sound and finishes coming all over Harry’s face, even as Liam continues to fuck into him.
"Fuck," Niall breathes behind him and eases out of Harry’s grip to climb over him, drops beside Zayn to kiss him long and slow and dirty as he slides his fingers through Zayn’s come on Harry’s face and brings it to Harry’s lips. He doesn’t need to be told twice – nevermind that he’s so fucking grateful because he’d wanted to taste Zayn properly – and parts his lips to suck Niall’s finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around the tip and then he's whining as Louis changes the angle and hits his prostate.
Harry feels Niall’s fingers against his skin again, collecting more of Zayn’s come and reaching up to press the digit to Liam’s lips. Harry reaches around Niall again to wrap a hand around Zayn’s hand on Niall’s cock, stroking it in time with Louis’ and Liam’s thrusts. Harry’s attention is abruptly drawn to his own cock when Louis wraps his hand around it. He arches and moans and rocks back, absolutely desperate now, broken sounds barely slipping passed his lips, wrecked and completely destroyed, and he’s shaking – and he needs -
"C’mon," Louis says, knowing smile against the back of Harry’s neck. He feels everyone’s eyes on him, feels Niall’s shift and Niall’s hand snake under him to curl around Louis’, adding to the pleasure. "Come for us, Haz."
And he does.
He feels them move him as he comes down from his climax, feels them turning him over, the four of them managing it without Louis even needing to pull out, Harry pliant enough for it to happen. Louis hooks Harry’s legs over his shoulders and keeps fucking him, meets his eyes with a stare that so hot it burns Harry’s soul and so much love he feels his heart wanting to burst.
A moment later and Niall’s in front of him, smiling his own sweet smile and Harry reaches for him, pulls him closer to his face, shifts so he can wrap his mouth around Niall’s cock and swallow him. The ache in his jaw feels amazing and –
He whimpers as he feels a hand around his cock – oversensitive already – but twitching under the insistent and knowing touch. A moment later, he lets out a cry that’s muffled by Niall’s cock but heard all the same because Zayn sucks his spent cock into his mouth and – and he can’t. He can’t. It’s amazing but he’s –
There are fingers stretching him wider, sliding into him beside Louis’ cock, and he feels all his muscles starting to shake – it's too much, too much, too much – everyone around him and inside him and heatheatheat curling impossibly through him.
"Open your eyes," someone says, and Harry opens them. He can’t see much through the haze and the tears, but Niall’s still fucking his face and over his shoulder, he can see Liam jerking himself off, watching Harry’s dick in Zayn’s mouth, watching Louis fucking Harry harder and deeper, the rhythm starting to become erratic – starting to get closer and closer . Then Louis says, "Harry, come," and he feels the climax rip through him as Niall comes all over his face, as Liam comes all over his stomach, and Louis thrusts once - hard - and comes inside him.
There’s nothing but white noise and pain-edged pleasure – and it’s agonizing and amazing, and too much, and just perfect. He can’t breathe except in soft stuttered sobs but there are arms around him and there are sounds – Louis and Niall and Liam and Zayn – and he can’t make out the words but that’s enough. He’s clutching and clinging, and he whimpers when he feels someone’s fingers inside him, sliding out come-slicked to press that to his mouth. He doesn’t think about it – just parts his lips and sucks – and basks in the awe and wonder and love he can hear in their voices. Their hands never stop touching him.
It's too much and it's absolutely perfect.
He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know they’re curled around him, curled around each other, somehow fitting themselves onto a bed that’s made for only two people. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know, but he opens them anyway, so he can see.
They’re smiling at him, sleepy-content, and proud, and beautiful, and they only smile wider when they realise he’s watching.
"Hello," Louis says, brushing a stray curl from Harry’s forehead and leaning down to kiss him sweetly.
"Hi," Harry croaks out, and lets his eyes rest on them one by one.
"You were incredible," Niall says.
"That was incredible," Harry replies. He reaches up to brush his fingers against Zayn’s lips, then past Zayn to Liam, who catches Harry’s hand and brings it to his mouth for him. Which is helpful because Harry’s aim is still a little off. "Thanks, guys."
Liam laughs. "I think we all enjoyed that one, Hazza," he says, nipping at the tip of Harry’s finger. "I think we all definitely did that for ourselves."
Zayn reaches down to ruffle his hair. "And you were fucking perfect, as always. A prize in and of yourself, aren’t you?"
Harry lets out a soft laugh – one that hitches when he feels Louis’ fingers brushing over his hole again. "Lou," he whines, body torn between pressing back into the touch and bucking away.
"Next time," Louis says conversationally. There’s that glint in his eyes, one Harry both loves and hates. "I think we should all fuck you and then plug you. Then you’d have to spend all day with all of us inside you." Harry bites back a moan, and looks from Louis’ face, to Niall’s, to Zayn’s, and then to Liam’s. They’re all watching him with that expression on their faces – and Harry shivers.
Louis has the worst and the best ideas. Harry’s so screwed – and he already knows he’s going to love every minute of it.