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“Come cuddle me. ‘M sleepy,” Harry mumbles. He has the duvet nearly up to his ears and about fifty pillows surrounding his head. Nick will be lucky if he can get near him.
“Demanding,” Nick tsks, but does what Harry asks anyway.
It’s almost too warm under all the blankets, especially after Nick realizes that he can feel the hair on the backs of Harry’s thighs because he’s completely naked. Nick is only in boxers himself, but still.
He innocently wraps an arm around Harry’s waist, pressing a hand against his soft belly — effectively cuddling him as requested.
“You know, you wouldn’t need to bury yourself in bed linens if you actually wore clothes to bed? A nice knit jumper could solve a lot of your problems, here,” Nick says, tucking his face into the crook where Harry’s neck meets his shoulder.
Harry moves reflexively at Nick’s stubble rubbing against the skin there. He’s nearly laughing when he says, “Don’t be ridiculous. What are you gonna try to convince me of next? Umbrellas helping in the rain?”
Nick pinches one of his nipples, quick enough that Harry can’t stop him in time. The undignified noise he lets out makes Nick smile.
“Brat.”
They’re silent for a bit, and Nick thinks Harry might have fallen asleep, until he grabs Nick’s hand and starts sliding it down his front.
“Hm?” Nick hums.
“You know.” Harry shrugs, glancing over his shoulder quickly, his eyes bright even in the low light of the room.
Agreeably, Nick finishes sliding his hand down, past the soft trail of hair under Harry’s belly button, and past the scratchier lower parts where he’s trimmed recently, finding his cock already half hard and waiting nicely.
“Got a head start without even telling me, eh?”
“Sorry,” Harry says, sounding not at all apologetic. “It’s warm. Blood flow. Penis stuff.”
Nick snorts as Harry lets out a tiny half moan, getting caught on an intake of breath as Nick starts a slow stroke with a loose fist.
It doesn’t take much to get Harry fully hard and vocal about his appreciation for Nick’s hands, one still jerking him off and the other wedged carefully under him so he can get at his chest. There’s no time for joking now as he catches the same nipple from before in between his fingers, rolling it with the pads before applying steady and slow pressure, a squeeze that toes the line between just enough and too much.
The combination of sensations has Harry panting like he’s running a race, canting his hips back wantonly and thrusting them forward again to meet Nick’s fist, now more tightly wrapped and sliding faster, however mindful to keep the foreskin up as he rubs the head.
Nick doesn’t draw unnecessary attention to his own erection, because he’s happy with things as they are, but then Harry’s flinging a hand back to clutch at his hip and moaning loud enough for the neighbors to be in danger of overhearing. “Fuck me.”
Nick, feeling a little stupid with Harry’s leaking dick in his hand and Harry’s arse rubbing against him in a decidedly distracting way, blinks and asks, “What?”
“Fuck me,” Harry breathes.
It’s awfully hot under the covers now, so Nick kicks them down, ignoring Harry’s whines of protest.
“Are you sure?” Nick asks. “I’m fine with just this if you are.” To illustrate his point, he resumes where he left off, pausing briefly to give Harry’s balls a firm but loving fondle.
Harry whimpers, eyes scrunched shut while his mouth falls open. “ God , knock that off for a second, would you?” He pulls Nick’s hand away and catches his breath before leaning over to rummage around in the bedside table.
Without another word, he tosses the bottle over his shoulder and doesn’t bother to see if Nick catches it, settling down again into the pillows, haughty and rumbled. Helpfully and suggestively, though, he tucks his knees up closer to his chest and hikes one of his legs up, using an arm to support it and somehow making himself look like the picture of relaxation.
Nick doesn’t question him. He slicks his fingers up and starts by giving Harry a massage to warm him up, indulgently sliding his fingers through his crack. The skin there is pink, like it always is when Harry’s turned on like this, the smattering of sparse hair there doing nothing to hide it. He purposefully shies away from where Harry really wants him, until Harry makes an impatient noise and Nick uses the pad of his middle finger to circle the tight furl of his hole gently, but not too softly.
It makes Harry’s breath stutter, his hips tilting encouragingly towards Nick’s hand. “Yeah,” Harry nearly whispers, repeating it when Nick’s finger just barely dips inside. “ Yeah .”
He kneads at him like that for a bit, relaxed and slow, not in any rush, working his way past the first knuckle to the second, keeping up a steady stream of kisses on Harry’s shoulder and neck. Harry cranes his head back a few times to meet Nick’s mouth for something that resembles a kiss, but is more an exchange of breath than anything. Otherwise, Harry is preoccupied with clutching the sheets in front of him, or squeezing the base of his own dick to keep himself off the edge.
One finger becomes two, and suddenly with what feels like no time passing at all, Nick has four fingers in Harry’s arse that are making obscene wet sounds with each movement, and his own dick is so hard it feels like it might burst. Harry just has a way of asking for things that makes it impossible for Nick to even consider denying him. “Another,” he’d whined, when Nick already had three fingers curled to rub at his prostate, his hand in danger of cramping irreparably. “Shh. Okay, love. There you are,” Nick had said, looking down in awe of what Harry’s body can take, what he asks for .
But soon, that’s not enough either. “Fuck me,” Harry repeats his words from earlier. “Please. Fuck me.”
“So polite,” Nick says, and yet again, does what Harry asks him to.
Condoms are preferable for ease of cleanup, but neither of them want that now. Nick can’t even finish asking before Harry is telling him, “No, just do it.”
So Nick simply slicks himself up and gets a grip on the bend of Harry’s knee, helping him lift it for better access, and hitches his own hips forward until his cock meets wet skin.
Holding himself at the base, he slides through the mess of lube in between Harry’s cheeks and his inner thighs, now body-warm and incredibly inviting, even snubbing up against the back of his balls, just to hear him grunt. Once he’s done teasing though, he guides himself to the place that Harry’s been asking him so nicely to go.
The first push is always earth-shattering. The way Harry clenches up, but not to keep him away, his body just reacting the only way it can. He’s so hot inside, and it might just be mind over matter, but without any latex in the way, it makes Nick feel like he’s burning from the tips of his toes to the very top of his head, his whole body lit up anew with each sound and twitch and breath he gets out of Harry while he makes tiny thrusts to work himself in further.
Harry has a vice grip around the arm Nick still has under him, his blunt nails digging into the skin there. “ God,” Harry keens. “Nick. Nick .”
“Yeah,” Nick breathes, squeezing his eyes shut as he slowly begins to let his hips work with less restricted movements, Harry loosening for him even more with every second.
Still, even after four fingers, Harry’s overwhelmingly tight. Nick knows that Harry isn’t breakable, that they’ve gone quicker and harder in the past and that they will in the future, but right now, Nick wants to take his time. His body is caught between wanting to push all the way forward and wanting to just stay here forever, letting Harry’s body keep him warm and safe. Perhaps he’d have Harry rut back against him, make him work for his pleasure. But not tonight. Another time, maybe.
Nick has Harry roll forward a bit, so they’re less rigidly on their sides and Nick can get some better leverage, using a braced leg to put some weight behind his next thrust.
It makes Harry’s whole body lock up as he moans, and Nick wishes he could see his face. Instead, he does it again, finally bottoming out so that his pelvis meets Harry’s arse cheeks in a smacking skin-on-skin kiss.
He keeps it up for a bit, long heavy strokes that have Harry caterwauling like a cat in heat, but it isn’t sustainable. They fall back into an easier rhythm, something less intense but still just as good. And with a slight angle change, Nick starts to bump up firmly against Harry’s prostate on every odd thrust.
“There,” Harry pants, his limbs tensing and releasing in unpredictable intervals, like he has no control over them. Nick doesn’t bother to try and keep him steady, but fluidly moves with him. “There. Keep— there .”
Nick grips his hip and keeps his pace as even as possible, hoping that he keeps the angle Harry needs. He’s sweating and his muscles are getting sore, his feet slipping on the sheets, but he’s determined. He grabs Harry’s leg again, keeping his thighs spread despite his impatient body that seems determined to move every which way, and powers through it all, praying that his own orgasm stays at bay.
His efforts pay off because after only a minute or so more, Harry manages to coordinate himself to reach for his own dick. He jerks himself roughly and without finesse or fancy tricks, keeping his hand close to the head with short and fast motions. With a final loud, stuttered moan, he comes all over the sheets in front of him for what feels like forever to Nick. Because Nick is still fucking him, although more slowly now, only to help Harry feel as good as possible through the throes of orgasm.
And he must feel pretty good, because he seems to just keep coming and coming, the sheet nearly soaked and his insides still clenching rhythmically. It’s too much because Nick can’t hold on any longer, tipped over the edge by a particularly vicious contraction around his dick that has him spilling inside of Harry, the proverbial rug ripped out from under him. He bites down on Harry’s shoulder while he rides it out, thrusting shallowly until his hips cease moving altogether.
He stays there for a bit while they both come down, petting Harry’s belly and chest with shaky hands, placing kisses over his shoulders, especially where there’s a fresh set of teeth marks. He has to bite his own lip through the aftershocks, his own belly still buzzing faintly, while Harry gives the occasional twitch here and there, eyes still firmly closed.
He still doesn’t open them when he lets out a long breath. “Jesus,” he says.
Nick agrees with the sentiment. “Do you feel sufficiently cuddled?”
Harry laughs and Nick can feel it around his dick. “Yes I do, actually.”
“If you’re not careful, I’m gonna develop a Pavlovian response to an innocent gesture.”
“Don’t be weird.”
Nick pats him on the hip. “Am I safe to pull out now?”
Harry gives a little judgement wiggle. “Yeah,” he says. “Green light. Thundercats are go, and all that.”
The subsequent trickle that follows Nick’s almost-soft dick is enough to make him feel like he could potentially get hard again, but instead he just quietly groans his appreciation, daring to swipe a finger through the mess that’s collecting on the crease where thigh meets arse and all over the sheets.
Harry looks over his shoulder and gives Nick a knowing smirk. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“What?” Nick asks innocently, swiping his now-wet finger over Harry’s lower back.
“Now I’m gonna have to, like, deal with that.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Idiot,” Harry says, failing to suppress a smile.
Nick smiles back.