Archive of Our Own

The muscles in Niall's arms ache. He's been holding Theo for hours, switching from the crook of his right elbow to the crook of his left, trying hard not to let him go. He's almost getting too big to hold like this anymore, and it makes Niall weepy.

On the wall above the sofa where Greg is passed out snoring, there's an entire shrine of photographs of Theo from birth to present. Silly pictures where he's dressed in costumes, pictures of him red-faced and screaming, and a particularly embarrassing one of him lying down on his front, naked on a white bear skin rug, smiling at something just past the camera. Niall files that idea away so he can bring it up with the lads later. The fans would love it if they did that, he's sure.

Niall holds Theo up in the air to reposition him on his chest, his arms burning but not yet wanting to let him go. He's excited they start tour in a few days, but right now, there's nothing he wants more than to let this baby sleep on him forever. His whole family came over today for a nice send-off, but this is the part he likes the best, the quiet after a party where it's just him and the family he's closest to. Theo sighs and wiggles a little, trying to get comfortable. His little hand reaches out for something and grips Niall's finger, and Niall's heart feels full to bursting. He wishes he could bring Theo with them on tour - if only to keep his arms in shape. He's doing a better job of making Niall feel the burn than any weight-lifting ever has.

"You're the best baby," Niall says.

He kisses the soft top of Theo's fuzzy head and closes his eyes, breath slowing and eyelids heavy. He's sure he only falls asleep for a moment, the weight of the warm sleeping baby on him lulling him, somewhere between waking and dreaming. Theo pops Niall's finger into his mouth like it's a dummy. Then he bites down, hard. Niall yelps silently and yanks his finger away, examining it in disbelief. There's a dot of blood on his fingertip, like he's been pricked with a needle. He sucks on his finger and the blood stops instantly, almost as if it never happened at all.

"Christ," Niall says. "What have you got growing in there, a fucking fang?"

Theo is too busy drooling on Niall's shirt to respond.

~*~

Niall sits in the kitchen and wonders whether it's more humane to trap someone in a glass cell for the rest of their life or to throw them from a moving vehicle going 100 kilometers per hour. He's only half thinking of the little spider he's got currently caught under a cup on the table, while the other, more malicious part of him thinks of which punishment would suit Harry better.

The entire bus smells like fresh baked cookies, which is what woke Niall up in the middle of the night in the first place. Harry has gone to bed once again with two candles still burning in the lounge. He's done this countless times, and every time, Niall can't believe how a person with such an old soul can do something so immensely childish. He doesn't much like having candles on a moving vehicle anyway, but they make Harry happy, and it does class up the smell of the place, so Niall doesn't bother about it too much. He only wishes Harry would blow them out before abandoning them so they don't all wake up in a fragrant vanilla blaze.

Niall decides the spider will be safe if he gets up for a minute to furiously stalk over to the table where the candles are glowing. Normally he'd just squish the spider and think nothing of it; it's a little bug and there are millions more of them. They seem to sneak in when the buses are parked for a long time, crashing the house and having a party until the boys come back and break it up. Niall's wing mirrors are always covered in spiderwebs when he gets home, and sometimes he'll see one peek out then scurry back into the safety behind the mirror.

Liam is on this New Age “every creature is important” kick, so Niall feels obligated to treat every living thing with kindness, even when Liam isn't around. He likes that they do this for each other, sometimes. There are things that they'll give each other a hard time about, but some things matter so much to one of them that they all get on the same wavelength about it like it's nothing. It can be a hassle to nicely release everything back into the wild instead of slapping it, but it's already made Niall think about his place in the universe more than he would have before, which is good or miserable depending on the day.

His foot comes into contact with a warm body and Niall holds in a shriek. Harry is sleeping on the floor, using the cushions from the sofa in the lounge as a pillow. Niall rolls his eyes and kicks him as hard as he can without actually hurting him, just enough to wake him up.

"Heyyy," Harry says, his voice gravelly with slumber.

"You're gonna burn us all alive if you keep doing this," Niall says. He licks his thumb and pinches out the flames of the candles. The smoke makes Harry sneeze and Niall thinks, good.

"They help me sleep," Harry says. He goes to sit up but apparently decides that's too much effort and just rolls over so he's lying on his stomach.

"Isn't sleeping on the floor bad for your back?" Niall says.

"Feels good," Harry says.

"I've got a spider here," Niall says. He goes back to the table and lifts up the cup. The spider sits still for a moment, then ambles away at a victorious pace, elated at having defeated its captor. "I hope it crawls in your mouth and lays eggs in your belly."

"Do you think like, if spiders and stuff screamed, that we'd like, kill them as much as we do?" Harry says. "Like if a spider was like, 'ahhh!' I don't know if I could step on it."

"Don't know if I could either," Niall says, but what he really wants to do is tell Harry to shut the hell up. "I'm hungry. Your cookie candles woke me up."

They're the only ones on this bus, everyone else taking the party to bus 1 for tonight. It’s only the first week of tour and the excitement hasn’t worn off yet, but the exhaustion of constantly moving has definitely set in. Harry maneuvers into some sort of yoga pose, holding his upper body up on his arms while the rest of him stays still, then hops up onto his feet. He's only got on a tiny pair of underwear and his jewelry, and Niall can see in the low light of the lamp that he's glistening in sweat even though he's wearing so little.

"What are you hungry for?" Harry says.

"I don't know," Niall says, exaggerating his hunger by whining. "Make me something. I'm hungryyy."

"How about some cereal?" Harry says, his voice echoing through the cupboards as he rifles through them.

Niall whines again and kicks his legs, pretending to throw a fit. At least, he thinks he's pretending. Suddenly, frustrated tears spring from his eyes and his stomach rumbles, and he feels like he's never going to eat again. He shakes his head and snaps out of it before Harry can notice.

"Shh," Harry says, absently responding to Niall's cries but apparently not really noticing how dire the situation really is. "We've got - Louis' Special K, Liam's Special K that's the exact same thing as Louis' but in better condition, Zayn's Weetabix, and this box of Sugar Puffs that's probably been in here for hundreds of years."

"Better go with Liam's Special K," Niall says, subtly wiping at his eyes before Harry turns around.

Harry pours them each a bowl of cereal and joins him at the table. Niall likes a lot of milk so it gets nice and soggy, and Harry knows him well. He shovels it in his mouth quickly, wanting to feel full, but also wanting to go to sleep so he doesn't embarrass himself. He's so relieved to be fed that he could cry, and he just might if he thinks about it too much.

"Thank you," Niall says.

"Is that the spider you let go?" Harry says, pointing at the little bug on the table.

"That's the one," Niall says. He traps it under the cup again and waits until their next stop to let it go outside.

~*~

It's not until he's standing in front of the open fridge with nothing but a blanket wrapped around his shoulders in the very early morning that Niall realizes he's been getting all his meals brought to him. There's always catering everywhere they go, or someone makes a food run and takes everyone's orders, or fast food or room service. He hasn't had to make anything for himself in weeks. He even had Liam heat him up a mug of milk in the microwave one night before they all went to bed.

"It's too hot," Niall said.

Liam took the mug back and blew on it a few times. He tipped it up against his mouth to make sure the temperature was correct and handed it back with a smile. Niall drank it down in one gulp.

"Are you okay?" Liam said.

"Good now," Niall said with a milky belch.

The sun is rising and Niall looks at the contents of the fridge. Another warm glass of milk sounds good, actually. He wishes someone was awake to heat some up for him. That's a silly thought considering Niall is perfectly capable of putting a mug in the microwave himself, but for some reason, he can't. The seconds tick by; he shakes with how hungry he is.

"Morning," Harry says.

Niall jumps. He doesn't know how long he's been trying to figure out how to feed himself. He quickly shuts the fridge and turns around, trying to act casual, like he was just looking for a snack.

"What are you doing up?" Niall says.

"Couldn't sleep," Harry says. He rests his cheek on Niall's shoulder and sighs, wraps his arm around Niall's waist. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Niall says. Something like relief floods his entire body. Finally, someone else is here, and they can be responsible for feeding him.

~*~

It becomes habit. Niall wakes up in the middle of the night, sometimes close to tears, his stomach rumbling. It happens almost every night and he's getting sick of it.

He doesn't wake anyone up on purpose. He's determined to make himself something. He's a good cook - maybe if they had a grill on the bus, it'd be easier. Every time he tries, he can't think of what to do. There's some sort of block in his mind and he doesn't know where it came from. Maybe he's getting too spoiled by everyone doing everything for him, maybe he's lazy. Whatever the reason, he can’t seem to clear the fog from his head and do something about it.

Inevitably, Harry will wake up as well. Harry isn't a light sleeper; he'll fall asleep in a chair in the middle of a party with twenty people shouting around him. For some reason, Niall's soft, miserable shuffling is the thing that wakes him up, though he never actually says that's the reason. Harry will heat up some milk for him and stay up with him until he finishes it. By then Niall's eyelids are crusted with sleep and he's ready to lie back down.

Harry never asks if anything is wrong with him, so Niall stops asking himself the same question.

~*~

"Hey, are you okay?" Zayn asks, keeping his voice low beside Niall.

Niall nods, but he can't hold back the tears that spring to his eyes. It's only just past midnight and they're winding down after an amazing gig. The hotel suite is dark but for the glow of the television, and they're surrounded by snacks, except Niall, who sucks rapidly cooling milk through a straw.

"Jesus, Niall, are you crying again?" Louis says.

"No," Niall says, crying fully now. He has a tummy ache, and he could just say that, but he knows that's not a good reason to be crying like this.

"This isn't even a sad movie," Louis says. "It isn't a happy movie. It isn't even a particularly good movie. It's RoboCop, for god's sake, Niall."

"What's wrong?" Liam says.

Niall carefully places his empty milk glass on the table and wipes his eyes on his sleeve.

"Leave him alone," Liam says. "Let him cry if he wants to."

"No," Louis says. "Something is going on. He's been crying a lot. Like, a lot. Haven't you noticed?"

"Well, yeah," Zayn says, putting an arm around Niall's shoulders and squeezing him tight. "But that's just our Niall."

"I don't think so," Louis says. He counts on his fingers. "He cried before the concert tonight, he cried all last night, he cried the night before that, he cried during soundcheck."

"So?" Niall says, crying.

"You have cry-abetes," Louis says. "You're a cry-abetic."

An explosion goes off in the background and nobody notices because they're all too busy fussing. It makes Niall feel awkward and he wishes they'd all just go back to watching the movie, or at least do something to make him feel better. What Louis is saying is true, though. Niall has been crying a lot more than usual, seemingly for no reason, or for reasons that don't call for crying. He cries when he's hungry. He cries when he's tired. Right now, his stomach hurts, and he's crying instead of doing something about it.

"He's fine," Harry finally speaks up. He stares at Niall like he's trying to figure out a puzzle. "He just needs to lie down."

Niall lets out a sputtery sigh and nods. Harry is right, that’s exactly what he needs. Why didn’t he think of it?

"Come on," Harry says. He gets up and drags Niall by the hand. The other boys just look at each other and shrug.

"Feel better, Niall!" Zayn calls out.

~*~

Niall tries to lay down on his back, then his stomach. Every position he tries feels worse than the one before. He can hardly breathe, like something is sitting on his chest. Finally he settles on one side, but it still hurts. Normally Niall can handle pain better than this, but this stomach ache is really getting to him. Little hiccuping sobs escape from his mouth. Harry pulls the blanket over him and tucks him in.

"Okay?" Harry says.

"Rub my back," Niall says. He sounds pitiful even to himself, so he knows Harry will do it.

The bed dips slightly and Harry slips behind him. Harry smells like an orange grove, permanent citrus fingers from peeling fruit all day. He stays above the covers while Niall is under them. They both run so hot that if they're both covered it turns into a sweat cave. Harry opens his palm and runs it up and down Niall's spine over his shirt.

"That hurts," Niall says. "Where'd you learn how to give a back rub?"

"I learned it from you," Harry says dramatically. "I learned it from watching you."

He gets his hand under the hem of Niall's shirt and rubs soothing circles into his skin, finding the knots and poking at them until Niall is so relaxed he almost forgets why he was crying in the first place. They don't say anything for a while. Harry's breath is slow and steady on the back on Niall's neck, and Niall slows his own breathing to match it.

Harry pats Niall's back with one hand, a steady rhythm at first, then works his way up to an elaborate beat. Niall burps so loud and so hard, he's sure everyone on the hotel floor can hear it.

"Gross," Harry says. "Disgusting. You have some filthy habits, you know that?"

He ignores Harry's disapproval. Apparently his problem was that he had trapped gas, which is very strange to Niall. He’s never had a problem releasing his gas before. Must be a change in his diet or something. He's been drinking mostly milk and nothing else. The pain being so suddenly gone makes his body tingle with relief. He's so happy he could kiss Harry for making him feel better.

"Belching should not be done in front of polite company," Harry says.

"Good thing you're not polite then," Niall says.

~*~

Niall is lying on the couch backstage trying to catch some sleep before they go on. He can feel people staring at him and it’s like mosquitos buzzing around his ear, so he shuts his eyes harder, willing himself to rest. Someone comes over and touches his shoulder and, even though it could’ve been anyone, it could’ve been his own mum, he punches the air until they back off.

“You feeling okay?” Preston says. “You’re looking a bit peaked.”

“Sick as a dog, really,” Liam says from right above him.

“By now he’d have outsmarted you and left you stuck in a wall somewhere, if he were up to it,” Preston says. “That’s how I know he’s ill.”

Niall opens his eyes just so he can roll them. It’s the third time someone’s asked if he’s sick since he woke up this morning, and the millionth time just this week.

He’s fine. Sure, he’s always hungry and he can’t stop crying. He hasn’t slept all the way through the night in days. When he looks in the mirror, his skin is dull and pasty, which makes the dark circles under his eyes look like he’s been in a fistfight. He’s shaky on his feet more than he’s not. But he’s fine.

“Maybe he’s got mono,” Louis says, walking in from another room but somehow picking up the thread of conversation immediately. “Remember when Liam had mono, and rather than make up some story about a hot babe he hooked up with, he insisted that he got it from a drinking fountain? Then we called him a drinking fountain fucker because he likes to fuck drinking fountains?”

“I did not have mono,” Liam says. “I had a common cold.”

“But you don’t deny fucking drinking fountains,” Louis says. Niall laughs and Louis’ eyes light up.

Liam throws his hands up in the air and walks off. Louis goes to torture someone else. Preston is reading something on his phone. All talk of Niall being sick is forgotten for now, and he’s okay with that.

The crew has ordered some takeaway that smells amazing. Niall's stomach growls just from the smell of it, but it isn't until the idea of actually picking up and chewing food enters his mind that he realizes he hasn't eaten solid food in weeks.

He’s tried to eat more solid and hearty food, especially when there are other people around. When he takes a bite, he can’t chew on it and he gags trying to swallow it, like he’s putting some crazy foreign object in his mouth rather than something he’s eaten a million times before.

Sometimes the milk isn’t enough anymore. Sometimes it goes through his belly like water through a sifter and it doesn’t keep him full for long, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do when that happens.

"You want some?" Paddy says, making a plate.

Niall shakes his head. "Thanks."

"Are you sure?" Paddy says in disbelief.

"I'm not hungry," Niall says, but he is. The thought of doing a gig on an empty stomach isn't too appealing - his hands are shaking and he doesn't know how good he'll be on his feet - but he doesn’t want to be like this anymore, so he’s going to force himself to not be. He had half a glass of warm milk a few hours ago and he's already very aware of how empty his belly is now.

The rush of performing and the screams of the crowd take over and feed him better than anything else could. For a while, anyway. Their first wardrobe change, Niall sits down to change his shoes and can't get back up again. He just can't. He's weak, his vision blurry and his bones unable to lift him back up. He puts his head between his legs and tries to breathe, tries to gather the strength to go on. The gnawing emptiness in his belly is going to make him be sick all over his feet.

"Niall?" Louis says, crouching down to look at Niall's face. "What's wrong?"

"Didn't eat anything," Niall says. "I can't."

"What do you want?" Louis says.

"Some milk," Niall says.

Someone brings him a glass of milk. It's cold, and it hurts him all the way down as he guzzles it, but he feels better almost at once, though he's still not at 100 percent.

"Thanks," Niall says. When he looks up, everyone he works with is gathered around him, just staring at him.

"Okay?" Harry says.

Niall nods and finishes lacing up his shoes. As they're walking back out on stage, Harry pats his back a few times, enough that Niall burps pretty good. He's shaky on his legs for the rest of the show, but he manages to get through it, and he's grateful everyone keeps looking over to him to make sure he's all right.

~*~

Later, Niall is walking to Bus 2 with Paul to chill for the night until they get to the next hotel, sometime early in the morning. He spots Harry loping across the parking lot, his hair flowing free from the rags he was wearing on stage, surrounded by some of the crew, Louis, and Liam. Niall whistles.

Harry looks straight at him. Niall stomps like he’s on a runway and pretends he’s flipping long, curly hair over his shoulder. Harry shakes his head and even from this far away, Niall can tell he’s laughing. He waves Harry over, hoping maybe he’ll join in on Niall’s quiet evening. But then Harry looks down and walks faster, obviously ignoring Niall.

~*~

Niall gets a new cup on one of their stops. It's a stainless steel insulated travel mug with a lid and all that, so it looks like he just drinks a lot of coffee. It keeps his milk warm longer, and it's easier to drink it than carrying around a glass all the time. Plus he's starting to feel weird chugging all this milk in front of everyone.

Niall sucks the last drops from his bottle - that's what Louis called it as soon as he figured out what Niall was doing with it and it stuck, of course - and tries to get comfy in his bunk. It's louder than he's used to; he thinks almost everyone on tour is sleeping on this bus tonight, for some reason. He tosses and turns, but he can't find a good spot. He's too hot, so he sticks his leg out of the curtain, but then he gets too cold and tucks it back under his blanket.

He’s bothered by Harry ignoring him. They haven’t spoken for more than a second in days and it’s making him feel awful. Niall’s had a few drastic personality changes the last few weeks, sure, but he thought Harry didn’t mind. Nobody else seems to.

"Hey," Zayn whispers.

Niall pokes his head out. Zayn is in his bunk, the top one straight across from Niall's, his curtain open halfway. Niall didn’t even realize he was there until now. He must’ve skipped the Bus 1 party for tonight and snuck on without Louis noticing. His headphones are on his head, but he's pulled one back off his ear to talk, the crooked band pushing his hair into a funny mess.

"Can't sleep?" Zayn says.

Niall shakes his head. "Too loud."

"I was just thinking it was too quiet," Zayn says. "Used to sleeping with Louis or someone shouting next to me."

"Right?" Niall says. "You think I'd be used to all the noise by now. Can't get comfortable, though."

"Come over and listen to some tunes with me, yeah?" Zayn says.

Niall figures it couldn't make his situation any worse. He hops down from his own bunk and squeezes into Zayn's.

"Oh my god, you're bony," Zayn says. He shoves Niall's elbow from out of his chest and settles them so they're both lying down on their backs. One headphone presses against the shell of Niall's ear, and the other against Zayn's, so they can both hear the music, but it's distant and lulling.

"What have you got on?" Niall says.

"On shuffle," Zayn says.

They lie there awake with their eyes closed for a little while. It's the familiar dulcet tones of Zayn's voice singing along to "Hey Ya" that softly cradles Niall to sleep.

~*~

Niall is climbing into bed with his warm bottle when there's a knock at the door. Standing on the other side of the peephole is Paul, exasperated by something. Niall opens up and Harry comes out from behind Paul wearing nothing but his underwear and a big, fluffy white robe.

"This gigantic pain in my arse requested to see you," Paul says.

"Hi, Niall," Harry says.

Paul mimes glugging a bottle, and for a second, Niall thinks he's talking about him, until he notices how glassy Harry's eyes are and how red his nose is.

"I am not," Harry says. "A glass of red wine a day is good for you."

"Thanks, Paul," Niall says, and Paul just shakes his head and walks away. Niall ushers Harry into his room and tries to get him in bed.

"No, no, no," Harry says, springing back up as soon as he's sat down. "I came here because I have something to ask you.”

"What is it?" Niall says with a sigh.

He's very tired. He wonders if he crushes some sleeping pills into a little dish of milk and feeds it to Harry, like in The Aristocats, maybe someone would come kidnap him to get him out of Niall's hair. Instead, he sits and watches Harry pull two oranges and an apple out of his robe pockets.

"Don't," Niall says, digging his fingers into his eyes. "I've seen you juggle before."

"You have?" Harry says, sounding disappointed.

"Yes, like hundreds of times," Niall says. "We all have. You literally juggle something every time I see you."

"Oh," Harry says. “Well, that’s not what I’m doing.”

The apple and oranges drop to the floor with dull thuds and bounce under the bed. Harry digs deep until he comes up with a banana.

“Is that a banana in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” Niall says, giving Harry the old eyebrow waggle. Harry hands the banana to Niall without answering. Niall takes it without question.

“Will you open this for me?” Harry says.

“You came all this way to ask me to open a banana for you?” Niall says. “You’re a weakling. You have the grip of a toddler.”

“It’s not for me,” Harry says. “It’s for like, the good of everyone.”

His voice is rough and clogged up in his throat, the way he always sounds when he’s too tired to be upright. Niall tugs lightly at the hem of his robe until he flops over, feet dangling off the side of the bed.

“Everyone needs this banana opened,” Niall says. He accepts that this is something he has to do if he wants Harry to shut up and let him rest. “Okay.”

Niall grunts, pulling at each end of the banana, straining his muscles and gnashing his teeth.

“It’s not possible,” Niall says, handing the banana back.

“Niall,” Harry whines, pouting and smiling at the same time.

“All right, fine,” Niall says, but apparently he does it wrong.

“That’s not the way monkeys do it,” Harry says.

“I’m not a monkey,” Niall says. “You want to open it yourself?”

Harry shakes his head, watching with his big, weird eyes. Niall gives him the banana and he takes one bite then sets it on the nightstand, which is more than Niall expected. He’s still hanging off the bed, so Niall pulls him up all the way and gets them both under the blanket. Harry wiggles down until his head is on Niall’s pillow rather than his own. He yawns and rubs hard at his eyes.

"Do you ever hear your eyeballs squeaking?" Harry says. "Like if you rub 'em really hard?"

"Oh, yeah," Niall says.

"Do other people hear that?" Harry says. "Here, listen."

Niall puts his ear up as close as he can to Harry's eye and listens while Harry rubs at them.

"Do you hear anything?" Harry says.

"No," Niall says. "You've gotta get the right angle."

Niall takes hold of Harry's wrist and pokes him in the eye with his own finger.

"Quit pokin' yourself," Niall says. "Harry, if you don't quit pokin' yourself, you're gonna hurt yourself."

Harry gets to giggling and can't stop, his feet kicking the blanket off them. Niall starts kicking too, until there's no blankets or sheets on the bed, which makes Harry laugh harder. When he settles down, he's got a sheen of sweat on his forehead, so he viciously tears off his robe and throws it across the room. It knocks over a painting on the wall.

"Calm down, rock star," Niall says. "You're such an idiot."

"You are," Harry says. "Are you good? Are you hungry?"

"I'm tired," Niall says, but his stomach is painfully empty. "I was all geared up for peaceful night of beauty rest before you showed up and ruined it with your bananas and eyeballs."

"Fine," Harry says. "Get more beautiful. Leave me behind."

"I wish we had a blanket, but someone's gone on a bender and thrown them all on the floor," Niall says.

Harry sighs deeply and dangles off the side of the bed and comes up with a top sheet. He tucks them both in. Since Harry’s using his pillow, he makes one on Harry’s chest.

“I thought you were angry with me,” Niall says.

“I’m not angry with you,” Harry says, but Niall hears the hesitation in his voice.

Niall falls asleep like that, with his stomach growling and his head on Harry.

~*~

It's only a few short hours before Niall wakes up in tears. He's starving, his stomach feels like it's turning inside out, and he knows he shouldn't have gone to sleep without having something to eat first. It's pitch black in the room and takes a moment for Niall's eyes to adjust, especially since they're already puffy with tears.

Harry is breathing deeply underneath his ear, and the skin on his collarbone is wet from Niall's crying. He must be at least partially awake because he's making little soothing "shh" sounds and raking his fingers through the soft hair on the back of Niall's neck.

Niall tries to match Harry's breathing, long inhale, long exhale, slow and steady. He shuts his eyes and relaxes the muscles in his neck, then his back, all the way down his body until he's boneless and comfortable again. He lays his head back down on Harry's chest, his lips grazing the bare skin. Harry's nipple just barely touches Niall's mouth and Niall latches on by some unknown instinct, sucking gently.

Warm milk floods his mouth. The hand in Niall's hair tightens.

"Oh my god," Niall says, his mouth full. He doesn't know whether to spit it out or to swallow it.

“Niall,” Harry says.

Niall holds the milk in his mouth the entire time it takes him to flee to the bathroom and lock himself in. The urge to drink it overpowers him and he swallows it. He’s mortified to discover it makes him feel instantly better, in almost all possible ways. He’s not as sickeningly hungry, he’s not agitated, he feels stronger, and all just from that little taste of - Harry. Harry’s breast milk.

“Oh god,” Niall says and slides to the floor.

Harry knocks at the door, softly at first, then increasingly loud and frantic.

“Niall, please, come out,” Harry says. “It’s okay.”

"No it's not," Niall says.

"Yes, it is," Harry says. "Please, come out of there."

“I’m really sorry,” Niall says, so quiet he's not sure Harry will be able to hear him through the door. “I didn’t mean to do - that. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Harry says. “Really. I'm the one who's sorry. I just didn't know my body could do that."

Niall can't deny Harry for too long, no matter how annoying he's being, so he opens up, and they immediately bump heads, because Harry was leaning against the door. They laugh and sooth their skulls, forgetting for a second what happened.

There’s a drop of milk on Harry’s nipple, just sitting there, waiting to be licked up. Just the little taste he got was so good, like it gave him new life that he didn’t know he was missing before he had it. Harry notices his ravenous staring and crosses his arms cover his chest, looking anywhere but at Niall. Niall wants to flush himself down the toilet and escape this entire situation. He's still hungry, is the thing. He wants milk whether it comes from a person's body or from his bottle.

"I'm just gonna," Niall says. He pushes past Harry back into the room and sits on the bed. His mug is sitting there on the table, and he takes a few big sips from it. It's barely warm anymore and tastes like bland tea to him now, compared to what Harry gave him. He drinks it down anyway.

"Yeah, I'll leave you alone," Harry says. He picks his robe up off the floor and tries putting it on backwards. Niall watches him struggle to get his arms into the sleeves for a while.

"Where are you going?" Niall says, deciding he doesn't want to be alone after all. Nothing really happened to make him never want to see Harry again, at least nothing that can't wait until the morning.

"Back to my room," Harry says.

"Sleep here, you idiot," Niall says. "You don't even know where your room is."

Harry hesitates, but he jumps into the bed like an excited kid. Niall slips in next to him, and Harry immediately turns over so his back is facing Niall. Niall takes the hint and sleeps with his back to Harry as well.

~*~

Niall wakes up with a bunch of hair and big eyes in his face.

"I think I figured it out," Harry says.

"What time is it?" Niall says. "Figured what?"

"Time doesn't exist," Harry says. "But if it did, it'd be half nine, Niall. I figured out why my body, like. You know."

"Oh," Niall says, everything from the night before hitting him in the gut and making him feel sick.

"Like, I think it happened because of you," Harry says.

“Oh, so it's all my fault,” Niall says.

“No, I mean, like, I noticed it happening recently. Like, when you’re crying, I can like, feel it.”

“My crying makes you - milk?” Niall says.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I remember I used to get sore when Lux cried, but I thought it was just my heart hurting. But it’s like, my nipples. So I think my body is just like, responding to you. Like, to your needs."

“My needs?” Niall says. His mouth waters with how badly he wants milk right now. Harry's nipples are right there, and of course one of them is leaking.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Like the other night at the gig, right? You needed milk really badly. My nipples hurt so much I thought they were gonna like, come off.” He wipes up the little drop of milk on his finger. He holds it out to Niall, slowly, like he's trying not to startle him. “You’ve been drinking a lot of milk lately, right?”

“Yeah,” Niall says, his entire body shaking, resisting the urge to latch on to Harry’s finger, his nipple. “But I’m not - I’m not gonna drink your milk. That’s not. That’s not something you need to give to me.”

“Listen, Niall, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on either,” Harry says. “All I know is like, you need milk really bad. You get weak without it. I’ve seen it. It scares me. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“It won’t,” Niall says. "I promise."

“You can’t promise that. Just take it,” Harry says. He brings his finger closer to Niall’s mouth, and Niall can see the wetness of the milk on it. “I want you to.”

Niall can’t stop himself. He sucks Harry’s fingertip into his mouth, practically drooling on it. The ridges of Harry's fingerprint rub against his tongue, scraping it softly. It's hardly a drop anymore, just a taste of sweetness on Harry's salty hand, but it's enough to make him want more. Harry's pleased smile is what makes him finally back off.

"Aw, you're like those kittens whose mum rejected them so they need to be bottle-fed," Harry says.

Niall pulls away, his whole body trembling. Harry doesn't seem affected at all. Just one of your best mates and fellow band members drinking the breast milk his crying makes you produce, business as usual.

"Do you want more?" Harry says.

"No," Niall says.

Harry's face falls.

"I mean, not now," Niall says. "Think I should just have my bottle for now."

"Okay," Harry says, but he still has that worried look on his face. "I'll call room service."

~*~

Harry's on his phone all the time for the next few days. Niall doesn't know if he's legitimately busy with something else, or if he's deliberately engrossing himself to avoid him. Niall tries to keep himself occupied otherwise as well, but he's always drawn back to Harry. They don't talk to each other about anything, especially not what happened.

~*~

"I've been doing some research," Harry says as he flings Niall's bunk curtain back.

Niall is lying there, holding his bottle up in the air and dangling it over his mouth like a hamster, trying to figure out what if would feel like to be a hamster. He pauses the Lil Bub documentary on his laptop, something Liam described to him in such delighted detail that he had to check it out for himself.

"Jesus," Niall says. "Don't you know how to knock?"

Harry purses his lips together and closes the curtain again. He bats at it so the fabric billows.

"Who is it?" Niall says.

"It's your da," Harry says in an impressive imitation of Bobby's voice. "You better not be doin' what I think you're doin' in there."

"What do you want?" Niall says.

He opens the curtain, but Harry hesitates. Niall nods to let him know it's okay, and Harry climbs up in. They’ve barely been in a room smaller than a stadium at the time time lately, let alone a cramped space, but Niall feels a calm wash over him at the heavy, full-body beating Harry gives him as he tries to squeeze in beside him.

"Look, this cat is always sticking its tongue out of its mouth," Niall says.

“That makes me sad,” Harry says. He sticks his tongue out and talks with it hanging. “Can you imagine?”

Niall sticks his tongue out. They stay that way until Harry’s hair drifts over onto his face and he inhales some of it.

"Okay," Harry says. He spits hair out of his mouth and steals half of Niall's pillow. "What's that?"

Niall has a map of the stars on the ceiling of his bunk. He rotates it accordingly each night they're playing. He also has a digital version similar to this on his computer. He explains his methods to Harry.

"Just something I like to do," Niall says.

"I didn't know you had that," Harry says.

"Yeah, well, I'm a man of many secrets. I'm very mysterious."

"Most people have cool posters on their ceilings. Like a car or boobs or something."

"A car with boobs," Niall says, cackling.

"Boobs driving a car," Harry says. "That sort of thing is normal for like, a person to have on their ceiling. Watching over you as you sleep."

"Well, I'm clearly not most people," Niall says.

"Speaking of that," Harry says. He shifts so he's on his side and he rests his head on his hand to look at Niall while he's talking. "Like I was saying. I've been doing some research."

"Oh, yeah?" Niall says in a girlish, American accent. He rolls over and opens his mouth in an exaggerated smile, like he's really excited to listen to whatever rubbish Harry is about to say. "Oh my God. Tell me all about it."

"Okay," Harry says, not reacting to Niall's schtick. "I looked it up, and breastfeeding is a very like, controversial topic."

At the word "breast" Niall's body heats up. If he thinks about it hard enough, he can still taste Harry's milk on his tongue. He didn't think they'd discuss it any further. He thought it happened and it was over and they'd move on, not that Harry would study it on the internet.

"It's like, supposed to be really good for the baby," Harry says, not even realizing what he's putting Niall through. "But like, some people can't produce milk, so it makes them feel like bad parents, or like, other people yell at them."

"Maybe you've noticed this, Harry, but I'm not a baby," Niall says.

"I know," Harry says, looking at Niall very seriously. "But if you need it. It can be good for you. Did you - did you like it?"

"Yeah,” Niall says honestly.

"It made you feel better?" Harry says. "Better than just like, regular milk?"

Niall knows his face is red, which is an affirmative in itself, but he nods.

"So," Harry says. He unbuttons his shirt halfway and awkwardly shifts his chest closer to Niall's face.

Niall slaps him away. "Don't just put your tit in my mouth. Jesus. You have to work your way up to that."

"When do you want to?" Harry says.

Niall sighs. Apparently Harry is going to move forward with this whether Niall is completely on board or not.

"Tonight," Niall says. "After the show. Okay? We can try it then."

"Okay," Harry says with a satisfied smile.

~*~

"Niall," Harry says, muffled, from the floor. He's in his first stage outfit, the busy pattern of his shirt made even more garish contrasted against the dark carpet he's lying facedown on. Niall is in the middle of running around trying to get himself ready. He doesn't even have his shoes on yet. Harry turns his cheek and calls Niall's name again, this time a lot clearer.

"Yeah, Harry?" Niall says. "What are you doing down there?"

“My back hurts,” Harry says with a pout.

“So?” Niall says. “My knee hurts.”

"You know what I want," Harry says. He kicks his legs up and crosses them at the ankles. "Put those stocking feet on me."

Niall does know what Harry wants, but he’s got to deny him some things or he’ll get a big head. "Why can't you ask one of the other lads?"

"They're too heavy," Harry whines. His whining seems sincere, but he's not a whiner. Sometimes Harry is so good at pretending that Niall can't tell if he's pretending or not. "Don't make me beg."

"Fine," Niall says. "But you owe me."

"I'll kiss your knees," Harry says. "I'll do anything."

Niall steps carefully onto Harry's back, with one foot then both, and balances carefully until he's sure he won't fall off. He's glad they talked earlier because now everything is back to normal, at least for now. What they talked about, what Niall said they'd do later - he tries not to let it hang over his head like a stormy, milky cloud.

"Okay?" Niall says.

Harry groans in response. Niall stomps gently on Harry's back and watches Harry dig his fingers into the carpet when Niall finally works the right spot. Niall feels the bones in Harry's back pop under his feet, even through his socks.

"That's the ticket," Harry says, his voice strained in pleasure, his cheek smushed to the floor.

Niall always wants to jump off Harry's back and pose in the air like the Anchorman freeze frame, he thinks about doing it every time they do this, but he knows he'd probably damage something on both their bodies, so he doesn't. He steps off just as carefully as he got on and helps Harry to his feet.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Harry says.

"We're too young to have back problems," Niall says.

"And knee problems," Harry says. "We're old men."

"That we are," Niall says. He's been holding on to Harry this entire exchange, his entire fist gripping loosely around two of Harry's fingers. He lets go slowly, hoping Harry won't notice, and he doesn't.

"Harry, button your shirt," Zayn says. He walks by quickly, adjusting his mic pack with one hand and slapping Harry's bare chest with the other.

"No!" Harry shouts, but he looks down at himself, and Niall can't help but look as well. All the buttons but the bottom two of Harry's shirt are undone, probably from wiggling on the floor and being stomped on. Harry runs his fingers down his bare chest, touching it like he can't believe it's there, and brings his gaze back up to Niall. They stare at each other, a thread of something between them making Niall's cheeks heat up, but Harry makes a dumb face and it ends.

Niall shakes his head. They only have a couple minutes before they're performing for a crowd of thousands. He doesn't have time to think about Harry's chest.

"Don't give them too much of a show," Niall says. He finds a pair of his shoes and slips them on, gets his in-ears ready. "You know what they say."

"What do they say?" Harry says, buttoning up only one more button.

"Why buy the cow," Niall says, gesturing at Harry's entire person, "when you can get the milk for free?" He ends the sentence by poking Harry's exposed skin and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Niall," Harry says with an inhalation of disbelief, putting some space between them, but he's smiling. "Oh, that was a good one."

"Ha!" Niall shouts, kicking his heels together. He jogs backwards until they get to the edge of backstage, thousands of screams drowning out every other sound. Liam is already peeking out, and Zayn and Louis follow shortly after. Niall is blind to anything but Harry striding slowly towards him, his mouth lifted in a smirk, undoing his shirt back open right before they go on.

~*~

Harry is standing in a corner and looking at Niall like a particularly puzzling piece of artwork. They've been showered and changed for bed in the hotel for well over half an hour, and yet they're both still upright, just sort of avoiding each other with purpose. Niall has taken the same thing out of his luggage and put it back three times to keep himself busy and awake. He's actually brushed his teeth twice, like Harry's nipple will somehow be offended if he has bad breath. Harry keeps going into the bathroom, looking around, and then coming back out. It's all getting ridiculous.

He hasn't had anything to eat since they came off stage, and he's hungry. Niall wants to lie down in bed so bad - his muscles ache and he's exhausted. The emptiness in his stomach hurts worse than any other soreness in his body that lying down could provide.

"So how should we..." Harry says. Niall jumps, as this is the first time anyone has spoken in a while.

"What?" Niall says.

"How should we do this?" Harry says, hands on his hips in a decisive manner. "The... feeding you."

"Oh," Niall says, his heart quickening. "I'm not sure."

"How do people normally do it?" Harry says. "Like, lying down?"

"I think normally one of the people is a lot smaller so the bigger person can hold them," Niall says.

"I can hold you," Harry says. "You're a little bit smaller than me. We can get one of them like, fabric things.”

"You're not going to hold me like a baby," Niall says.

Harry frowns. "You used to let me. Now you're too good for it."

"You're an idiot," Niall says. He sits down on the bed, then slowly folds himself in and under the covers. "Let's just - lie down in a way that's comfy for both of us. And like, see what happens."

"Like the first time?" Harry says, getting in next to him and snuggling close.

Niall's face heats up. When Harry says things like that, when he's so open about what's happening, Niall doesn't know how to react. It should be strange and disgusting - one of your friends drinking milk from your nipple because if he doesn't he feels like he'll die - but Harry doesn't treat it that way. Harry doesn't seem to be embarrassed, so Niall vows not to be embarrassed either, at least not until Harry is.

He lays his hot cheek on Harry's bare chest and tries to get as comfortable as possible. Of all the people he likes to share a bed with, Harry is low on the list. He’s so hot and wiggles too much and once he’s asleep, he’s dead weight and you can’t move at all. Right now, though, being this close to him is comforting for Niall.

The warmth of Harry's skin and the soothing way he runs his fingers through Niall's hair relaxes him enough that he thinks he could fall asleep like this. His stomach growling tells him otherwise. Niall doesn't know if he can go through with this. It might be better just to have a bottle of milk and be done with it.

"Shh," Harry says. His eyes are closed and there's a small smile on his lips.

Niall closes his eyes too. The beating of Harry's heart is loud under Niall's ear, but it's slow compared to the wild thumping that goes all the way up Niall’s throat. The up and down of Harry's chest breathing steadily rocks him gently, and he tries to slow his own breaths to match.

His mouth seems to find Harry's nipple on its own, without him thinking about it. Harry's hand stills, but only to push on Niall's head so he won't pull away.

The first drop of milk that touches his tongue is better than anything Niall can remember eating. He feels like he's been baking in the sun all day and someone finally put a cold compress on his forehead, relief tingling through him from head to toe. He sucks more confidently, but only a trickle comes out, so he bites a little.

"Ah!" Harry gasps.

Niall yanks his mouth away at once.

"Did I - are you okay?" Niall says.

"It's fine," Harry says. "Just - no teeth. I'm tender."

"I'm sorry," Niall says. He hides his face in shaking hands. "I shouldn't even be doing this."

"It's okay," Harry says. "Come on, now. You barely got any."

Harry's tattoos are dark and blurry in the low light of the room. The tattoos on his chest form a sort of face if you look at them just right, which Niall believes is true if you look at anything just right. The moth on his stomach looks like a wide, screaming mouth, and the birds look like mean eyebrows. There's a big droplet of milk on one nipple, so it looks like the face is crying. Niall laughs so hard he starts coughing and can't stop.

"What?" Harry says. He sits up to pat Niall's back and the milk droplet moves down his chest like a single tear.

Niall can't stop laughing. Every time he tries to explain, he only laughs harder. Harry looks confused, but he eventually starts laughing too.

"Nipple - looks like crying," Niall says, the statement increasingly indecipherable as it goes on.

"Your reaction to it is funnier than the actual thing," Harry says, but he can't stop laughing either.

Eventually they settle and lie back down, Harry with his hand on Niall's head, Niall with his arm wrapped around Harry's waist. Niall feels lighter and a calm sets in like he's never felt before.

“Are you sure this isn’t too weird?” Niall says.

Harry shrugs and makes a face, and Niall makes an uglier face at him, and they go back and forth contorting their faces into gross, ghoulish messes until Harry suddenly goes back to normal, leaving Niall looking a fool on his own with one eye bugged out and his lip pulled over his chin.

“I mean, it’s weird, but like,” Harry says, with one more shrug.

“I just wish we had like, one of them really long curly straws,” Niall says. “Put one end on your nip, the other end in my mouth. We could both kick back, watch a movie, nothing would be weird.”

"Don't worry about it,” Harry says, using the tone he reserves for things he really means. “All right?”

"Okay," Niall says, tucking himself in to Harry’s side.

His whole body trembles as he puts his mouth over Harry's nipple and sucks, careful this time not to use his teeth. Harry's body jerks, but Niall realizes it’s because he’s digging his fingers into Harry’s side, his knuckles going white, so he loosens his grip.

Harry makes soothing, encouraging noises. Finally, a steady flow of warm milk comes out. It's sweeter than he remembers it being from just his first taste and he has to stop himself from moaning. He tries to hold it in his mouth to savor it, can't shake the feeling this is a treat he'll only get once, but he can't stop swallowing it down. He drinks and drinks, and he thinks he can practically feel his energy being replenished, like some sort of life bar was at zero and now it's at one hundred. He's so grateful Harry is letting him do this, because it makes him feel so good. He’s taken care of, and warm, and safe.

When he looks up to make sure Harry is still okay, Harry is looking straight back at him, but his eyes are fuzzy, like he's completely checked out, but when their eyes meet, he's back again. He smiles and pets Niall's hair, but the way Harry seemed to not want to be there for those few seconds makes Niall feel lonely. He closes his eyes and just drinks for a while, until his belly is full.

Niall repositions his body a little, rolling more onto his stomach, and his cock aches. His eyes fly open when he realizes - he's fucking hard as a rock. He hopes to god Harry hasn't noticed it, too. Slowly, so as not to seem suspicious, he takes his mouth away from Harry's nipple.

"All done?" Harry says.

"Yes," Niall says, patting his belly. "I'm full."

"Are you sure?" Harry says, sounding skeptical. "There's a whole other nipple here."

"No," Niall says. He rolls over so his back is to Harry and his cock is as far away as possible from Harry without being rude.

"Do you need to burp?" Harry says.

"I'm good. Thank you, Harry."

"You're welcome," Harry says in small voice that makes Niall's heart ache.

~*~

When he wakes up, he's got the bed to himself. He doesn't know for how long - if Harry is just in the bathroom, or if he went to his own room, or what - but Niall knows he'll only last a few seconds. He jerks off thinking about Harry's nipple, the hard nub of it under his tongue, the way Harry’s eyes looked, glazed over, his gasp when Niall used his teeth, Niall’s mouth overflowing with the milk Harry has inside him, and it's all for Niall.

Niall doesn't hear anything as he comes, very quickly. Then the shower shuts off. The bathroom door opens and Harry bursts into the bedroom completely naked, like he usually does after showering, preferring the drip-dry method. The come on Niall's hand is sticky and his heart his pounding, from guilt, from lingering arousal, from fear of being found out.

Harry stands next to the bed and shakes his hair out like a dog, making sure to get Niall good with it.

"Ugh," Niall says.

"Wake up!" Harry says.

"I'm already awake," Niall says. "You saw me. You saw my eyes were open."

“I’m your wet nurse, Niall. Get it? Wet nurse.” He punctuates this by shaking his hair directly in Niall’s face.

“Ugh,” Niall says.

Harry wraps himself in a hotel robe and turns on the TV. Niall uses his temporary distraction to flee to the bathroom and wash himself clean.

~*~

Because of his condition, Niall has had to turn down so many things already. Concert tickets, football matches, dinner reservations, invitations to go golfing. He doesn't want to be out there with someone who doesn't know him very well and collapse into a tantrum because he's hungry or upset, then have to ask them for a glass of milk or something. He’s been starting to feel like a bit of a recluse and he’s going out of his mind.

That’s why he’s spending a good chunk of their day off with none other than Harry Styles.

Harry is a better golfer than he is without even trying. He’s dressed so normal for him it seems almost wrong, the purple polo shirt and bright white of his trousers stark against the green of the course. He started off with a hat, then said it was too hot and switched to one of his ridiculous half-ponytails. To stall, he’ll periodically shake his hair out and put it back up. Paul is off in the near distance sleeping in the golf cart, and there are groups only a couple holes behind them.

“Just swing already,” Niall says. He sighs and adjusts his hat so the sun isn’t in his eyes.

“I can’t,” Harry says. “I got the yips!”

Harry is wiggling like a toddler and holding the club like you’d carry a live snake, but Niall knows he’s only doing it to be annoying.

“Help me, Niall!” Harry says, shaking his limbs about like a bunch of windsocks. “My yips! Oh, my yips!”

“That’s not what the yips are,” Niall says with a sigh. He positions himself behind Harry and throws his arms around him like he’s casting a net. Harry immediately stops wiggling.

“Are you gonna help me, or,” Harry says. He presses his back to Niall’s chest, turning his head slightly, his lips almost against Niall’s cheek. Niall is light-headed, probably because he’s not used to being outside in the sun like this lately.

“This wouldn’t take so long if you’d stop playing with your hair,” Niall says.

“My hair hurts,” Harry says. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I want to put one of them little bows in it when you wear it like that,” Niall says. “Like one of them little dogs.”

Niall’s hands grip the handle of the club over Harry’s. Harry relinquishes control over his body to Niall, letting him pull back and swing at the ball. The head of the club smacks it good and sets it flying far, nearly to the green. Niall lifts his hands up to the sky and hollers; that’s the best he’s shot all day and it wasn’t even his turn. Harry reaches behind him and pats Niall’s cheek in congratulations. It takes Niall a moment to remember to step back, to put space between their bodies.

Niall can feel himself fading all of a sudden. They’ve been playing all day, the sun’s beating down on them, and he’s sweating through his shirt, which is supposed to be moisture-wicking but is hardly wicking any moisture at all. He mostly picked it so it’d match his new plaid trousers. When he picked out his outfit, he made sure he’d out-dazzle Harry in terms of being an eyesore, and he definitely did.

He only had a glass of milk for breakfast, waving off Harry’s offers to feed him this morning. Light-headed hunger swoops through him now and he desperately wants to lie down.

They make the long way to Harry’s ball so he can putt. He sinks it into the hole in one more swing.

“Ha!” Harry pumps his fist. He turns around to laugh in Niall’s face, since his ball is still in some sand somewhere, but he immediately runs to Niall’s side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just hungry,” Niall says. He’s grateful for Harry’s arm around him supporting him because he suddenly doesn’t feel like he can keep himself standing.

“You should’ve said something earlier,” Harry whispers furiously. “Come on.”

Harry leads him to a tree surrounded by tall bushes in the rough. He lifts his shirt up over his shoulders and leaves it hanging like a scarf around his neck.

“What? No,” Niall says. “Not here.”

“Come on, you need to,” Harry says. “I thought that’s why - like, we can do this now.”

Harry’s nipples looks a little puffy and the muscles underneath swollen, and Niall realizes it’s because he’s full of milk. He’s full of milk for Niall. Heat shoots straight through him to his cock and he feels so guilty he wants to be sick. This isn’t a sexual thing - it’s a basic necessity. Niall’s body is betraying him in so many ways.

“I’ll keep a lookout,” Harry says, like he’s just breaking into the fridge for snacks before dinner rather than offering milk from his body to feed Niall’s insatiable hunger.

Niall crouches awkwardly and latches on as best he can under the circumstances. Harry holds him in place and strokes the hair down the back of his head, talking all the while.

“I just read an article about a woman who got in trouble for breastfeeding at a concert,” Harry says. Apparently Harry has just been googling “breastfeeding” and reading the top results only. “She got kicked out for feeding her baby in the pit. I want to like, be on her side, because you should be able to like, breastfeed wherever. But in the pit? Imagine. If it was one of our concerts, the baby’d be crushed in a minute! It just doesn’t seem like, right. But anywhere else, it should be acceptable.”

For some reason, Harry’s rambling nonsense is soothing to Niall, and he drinks quickly to finish up. People should be able to feed their babies wherever they want, but Niall is an adult, and he’s a worse pervert than he ever thought, because he’s half-hard. He has the urge to beg Harry to hold him, to press their bodies together until they’re close enough to be the same person.

Niall finishes his meal, and Harry lets him go.

“Better?” Harry says, getting his shirt back on.

Niall nods. He carries his bag in front of him on their walk back to the clubhouse.

~*~

Harry isn’t in Niall’s line of vision on stage and Niall’s lip trembles, harsh tears forming in his eyes. There’s a tugging in his heart, like someone’s got a hook in it and they’re trying to yank it out. He looks around and sees Louis, Zayn, Liam - everyone but Harry. Niall can’t see Harry, he’s not there, and he’s never going to come back.

Something cold touches his shoulder and he jumps. Harry stands behind him, drinking a bottle of water and offering another to Niall. Niall shakes his head and tries to subtly wipe his eyes, not wanting to make Harry worry about him being so upset over nothing. Harry spends a lot of time with Niall the rest of the night, dancing with him, playing games with him, never having to ask.

~*~

It’s an unspoken agreement that they mostly do the feedings at night, unless there’s an incident. The quiet dark cloaks the intimacy of the entire process, rather than illuminating it in the light of day. The milk Niall gets from Harry lasts him a long time, but he starts dragging around the end of their gigs and all he can think about is eating. Tonight, he’s ravenous.

"Hey," Harry says. “Slow down. You’re gonna get a tummy ache.”

Niall hears him, but he doesn’t listen. He covers his teeth with his lips to suck harder on Harry’s nipple. He drinks until he can't breathe - like, he really can't breathe. His nose is smashed up against Harry's chest, barely getting any air, but he can't stop drinking. He's so hungry, but he almost feels like the milk is filling his lungs, like he's drowning. His cock throbs with each swallow.

“Niall, you’re hurting me,” Harry says, but Niall registers it only distantly, in a far away part of his mind. He only wants the milk Harry is giving to him. He only wants Harry’s body, for Harry to give his body to him, for their bodies to merge together and be the same. Niall is strong again, and he’s happy, and nothing is wrong. He can’t bear for it to end. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the unmistakable hitch of Harry’s hips, thrusting shallowly against nothing but the white sheet covering him.

“Niall,” Harry says, louder now, and he yanks at Niall’s hair.

Niall finally unlatches. He feels crazed. A string of spit from his open mouth to Harry’s nipple holds and then breaks.

“I’m so sorry,” Niall says, covering his face in his hand.

“It’s okay,” Harry says.

“I couldn’t stop,” Niall says. His voice trembles as much as the rest of his body. He’s so hard he could come if Harry just brushed against him, and this time he thinks it’s impossible for Harry not to have noticed.

“It’s okay,” Harry repeats. “Really, it’s okay. It didn’t hurt like, that bad. Just gets really sore, like, tugging on it. We can just work on that.”

“Work on it?” Niall says. Harry’s chest is messy, and Niall wants to lick it clean, get every last drop, but he feels terrible.

“Yeah, like better communication,” Harry says. His eyes light up. “Oh, we could have a safeword.”

“Like what?” Niall says.

“Like - honk honk,” Harry says.

Niall huffs out a laugh. “Oh, yeah, yeah yeah. Like, honk if your nip hurts!”

“Beep beep,” Harry says.

Niall sighs. “That’s not how it works. You have to say the actual words.”

“Deal,” Harry says.

They shake hands. Harry uses flimsy hotel tissues on the nightstand to clean himself up, but when Niall lays down on his chest it’s still a bit sticky and gross. He doesn’t want to lay on his own pillow, though; he wants to be as close as possible. They both stay quiet for a while, but Niall is still hard, and he’s not hiding it. Harry shifts restlessly. Niall wants to see if he’s affected in the same way. He can't get Harry thrusting shallowly into the air, trying to find some friction as Niall sucked at his nipple, out of his mind.

“Harry,” Niall says, just above a whisper.

“Hmm?” Harry says.

“Are you…” Niall says, pressing his aching cock to Harry’s hip.

“Yes,” Harry says.

“I thought it was just me,” Niall says with a big sigh of relief. “Like, getting hard from it. Like when you get a B12 shot? All those nutrients in your body like all at once.”

“It’s not just you,” Harry says. “I thought it was just me. I was trying to be a good friend and help you, but like, it happened. It happened.”

“Can I ask you - what does it feel like? When I’m, when it’s happening,” Niall says, fumbling over his words even though they’ve both just acknowledged that they have erections.

Harry stares off and doesn’t answer for longer than a normal person would, but fast for him.

“It kind of hurts, but in a good way,” Harry says. “Like when you have a headache and it goes away real fast, and you’re like, whoa. That feels good. But the like, residue of pain is still there. And if you, you know, if you’re like - “ He stutters for a while, and he’s visibly shy. “If you swipe your tongue a certain way, or whatever, then it feels nice.”

“Do you like it?” Niall says.

“Yeah,” Harry says.

“Me, too,” Niall says.

“Do you think it’s weird that like, I’ve sucked on your nipples, but we’ve never kissed?” Niall says suddenly, almost without meaning to. It’s something he’s thought about absently, when his and Harry’s faces are close, and he can’t help but bring it up. Better communication, Harry said. “Usually I’ve kissed the people whose nipples I’ve sucked on.”

“You suck on a lot of nipples?” Harry says.

“Not like - not for this, obviously,” Niall says. “It’s just a really personal thing to be doing. You know?”

“You want to kiss?” Harry says.

Niall nods.

"Come here," Harry says. Niall sits up and leans over Harry. Harry cups Niall's jaw in his hand and leans in, his eyes fluttering closed right before their mouths meet. It's soft, and it's easy, how their lips fit together. They each smile against each other before pulling apart.

"Good work," Niall says. He knows his face is embarrassingly red, but Harry isn't being shy about it, so Niall won't be either.

"Thanks," Harry says. "Would you ever do it again?"

"One more," Niall says, kissing him again, this time licking into Harry's mouth. Their tongues slide together briefly, then for longer, and they lie there kissing until Niall's neck hurts and Harry's lips are red and puffy.

~*~

Cold fingers dig into the skin under Niall's armpits and, without turning his head, he elbows the person in the sternum. The only reason he does, if he's being honest, is because he knows it's Harry. Harry didn't make a sound sneaking up on him, and he wasn't close enough yet for Niall to smell his cologne and the citrus on his hands, but Niall knows, through some special sense, that Harry is near him.

"Oof," Harry says, holding his chest. "What’d you do that for?"

"Don't start none, won't be none," Niall says. He holds his fists up like he's going to box Harry. Harry does the same, but exaggerated and silly, like he's in an old movie.

"You're no match for me, ol' Ticklepits Horan," Harry says.

Louis walks by and chants 'fight, fight, fight', so Harry throws a weak punch that doesn't come close to hitting Niall.

"Your posture is terrible," Niall says. "Stand up straight for once in your life."

Harry straightens his spine for about three seconds, complains that it hurts his back, then loosens up and hunches over again. He isn't wearing a shirt and his nipples are hard and the muscles behind them swollen, just begging for someone to relieve them of the milk they have in them. It's getting to the point where Niall can't even see Harry's nipples without becoming breathless with arousal, and that's not a good thing. They can't just stop and get freaky whenever Harry's got his tits out.

"Are you good?" Harry says.

"Yeah," Niall says. "Still good from this morning."

This morning was - well, it was very satisfying. After significantly more kissing than had taken place during their previous feedings, Niall drank until Harry was empty. They kissed after that too, and after they showered, and before they left the room.

"Good," Harry says. "Just make sure you let me know. If you like, need anything."

He stands close, the warmth of his skin sending jolts of comfort through Niall's body, and kisses him quick on the corner of his mouth.

~*~

Right in the middle of the gig, Harry comes up to Niall and digs his fingers into his thigh, whispers, I can't wait to kiss you again. He doesn't think Harry is purposely trying to wind him up, but it happens regardless. Every chance Harry gets to touch Niall, he takes it, rubbing his shoulders, stroking his fingers over his neck. Niall tries to be chill about it and keep a poker face, but he loves it. Having Harry's attention so focused on him makes him feel like he's at home when he's somewhere foreign. He's hot all the time and hungrier than ever.

When he glances at Harry, a bolt of lightning strikes him, like he forgot something and suddenly he remembered it.

~*~

"I'm so glad you don't have a bunch of chest hair. Don't know if I could take my milk with a hair in it," Niall says.

"Imagine," Harry says. "If circumstances were different, Liam could be breastfeeding you."

"I'd take what I could get," Niall says. Harry feigns offense and covers his nipples as if to deny Niall, but he laughs.

Niall slaps Harry’s hands out of the way and licks Harry's nipples, flattening his tongue and slowly running it along one, then the other, torturing Harry until he gasps. They're both hard and panting, they always are now from the start of Niall's feedings, but they still haven't done anything about it. The room is hot and their skin is slick with sweat, but they're high up and there's a cool breeze coming in through the open window.

Before, Harry would cover himself to the waist when they did this, but the blanket started to make its way lower each time, until now he's completely uncovered save for the underwear he's wearing, the line of his hard cock clearly visible. It's funny - Niall has seen Harry naked thousands, if not millions of times, but he’s only noticed how Harry is clothed when they do this. He guesses this is the reason. Niall presses close to Harry; neither of them are hiding anything. He can't stand it anymore, all this tension building and going nowhere.

Niall is the one who makes the first move. He sucks hard on Harry's nipple, the sweet milk and the rush it gives him making him feel light-headed and almost drunk. Niall’s palm just brushes the damp fabric of Harry’s underwear, but it’s enough to make Harry moan. Harry's hips lift up to meet him and the hand not gripping Niall’s hair clambers to fist the sheets in a tight grip.

"Niall," Harry says, his voice thin and wanting. "You don't have to. This is for you."

"So's this." He frees Harry’s cock from his underwear, pushing them down just to the flushed top of his thighs. “Honk if you need to. Yeah?”

Harry nods, frantic, so Niall grasps Harry’s cock in his hand and jerks him off. His nipples are swollen and leaking milk without Niall sucking at them, so he puts his mouth over one and doesn’t waste it.

“Oh God,” Harry practically sobs. He arches up into it, switches between pushing up into Niall’s mouth and thrusting into his hand.

Niall has no idea what he’s doing. He’s feverish, can’t get enough of everything Harry is giving to him. He knows Harry said no teeth, but he can’t help grazing lightly over Harry’s nipple, hearing the gasp that comes from him, his cock leaking. He’s not hungry anymore and all he wants is to get off. He slides smoothly on top of Harry, gets both their cocks aligned, and attempts to kiss him. He isn’t really able to do more than just breathe hot into Harry’s mouth, the tips of their tongues meeting sweetly. Harry comes quickly and Niall follows shortly after, his underwear still on and sticky and disgusting.

Harry is a mess. There’s milk pooled on his chest and leaking down his sides and there’s come all over his stomach, mixing with the milk. It should be gross, but it’s the opposite and only makes Niall want to go again.

“I’m so glad,” Harry says, still panting, a small smirk on his lips. “I’m so glad we did that.”

“Me too,” Niall says.

~*~

"Do you think your other nips would have milk in them?" Niall says. He looks around and makes sure nobody else is in the dressing room before kissing the back of Harry’s neck. He pokes Harry's extra nipples and makes booping noises like they're musical buttons.

"Don't think those are functional. They're just like, for show," Harry says.

"So if I tried nothing would come out?" Niall says.

"Blood might come out," Harry says. "You're not a vampire, are you?"

"Only for milk," Niall says. Then in his best Transylvanian accent, "I vant to suck your milk!" He bends to slurp on Harry's crazy lower nipple like he's Dracula until Harry laughs so hard he coughs.

Niall thinks he should probably figure out what's wrong with him and how to get back to normal. He justifies it and makes excuses, but he knows this isn’t right. As long as it doesn’t affect his performance - as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody - as long as they both still like it. The thing is, he doesn't really want to go back to normal. He likes this so much - being close to Harry, being taken care of so thoroughly. He's sure Harry likes having someone to take care of, too. He's not ready to stop.

~*~

Louis is starting his verse in “Better Than Words” when Harry does his jerky, shuffle-stomp dance to stand behind him. He throws his arms around Niall, effectively pinning his arms to his sides, and Niall is afraid he won’t be able to lift his microphone to his mouth when it’s his turn to sing. Harry hangs on to him and rocks from side to side, swaying them as Louis says, “always be my baby,” then lets go. This is their second night in this venue, which always makes everything wilder. It’s like the first night is an audition and the second night is their official debut, comfortable in their new surroundings enough to let loose. Niall doesn’t have time to do anything like shove Harry away or glare at him before he has to sing the next bit.

Niall never specifically planned on touching himself during this song; it’s just something that he felt in the moment. Now when he does it - it’s not that he feels like he has to or anything, even though he knows now the crowd expects it of him. He just feels very passionate about it every single time, for every single crowd.

What they don’t expect, he’s sure, is Harry snaking his arm around Niall, just as Niall stands on his toes and hisses, and putting his hand over Niall’s on his crotch before Niall gets a chance to do it to himself. Harry makes full contact with his junk, spreads his fingers out, and squeezes. It’s over in less than a second, but the deafening screams of the crowd are unlike anything he’s ever heard before. He bends over laughing, unable to get out the word “irreplaceable” as Harry skips away backwards with a cheeky smirk, checking for Niall’s reaction. He can only give Harry a pointed look and wag his finger at him. “Crazy. Crazy!”

Shortly after that, when Liam is speaking and they’re all milling about waving at the crowd, Niall notices Harry fidgeting with his shirt. He pulls it away from his body, sweat causing it to stick to his stick, and waves it, trying to cool himself off. The two big sweat stains on his chest seem oddly placed because of how uniform they are. It takes him a moment to realize it’s probably not sweat and then his whole body flushes with heat.

“You’re leaking,” Niall presses his mouth to Harry’s ear and whispers as loud as he can.

“I know,” Harry says. “I’ve been trying to like, wear looser shirts.”

Now that Niall thinks about it, most of Harry's clothes lately have been loose and baggy. Now he knows why. Even though they’re not in private late at night, it doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t have milk inside him. It doesn’t mean Harry isn’t full of milk for him all the time.

Niall cups his hand around Harry’s nipple for just a second, wanting to feel it. The sticky wetness on the thin material of Harry’s shirt, the swollen flesh underneath it, the hard, puffy nub that leaks a drop as Harry hisses in pain from being so sensitive. Fuck, Niall wishes they could leave the stage right now and do this. He might even do it in front of everyone if he doesn’t calm down.

Niall comes back into himself, putting a little space between them, then a lot of space. They can’t do this. Harry’s eyes are unfocused and his lips parted. Niall knows he’s red from his hairline to his feet without looking at his face on the giant screens that show everything. They finish the show without winding each other up any further, but Niall comes off the stage feeling like he’s been on a rollercoaster that got stuck at the top.

~*~

Harry has changed into a floral shirt his mum probably wore twenty years ago while she was pregnant. It's loose and baggy and nearly goes down to his knees.

"What are you wearing?" Louis says. "Is that a maternity top or something?"

"No," Liam says, examining Harry’s top closely. "It's a maternity dress."

"It's fashion," Harry says. "It's what Kanye would wear."

Harry looks at Niall and mimes having a pregnant belly, then points at his chest, all while nodding and making a face. Niall assumes this means it actually is a maternity dress and shrugs. He settles next to Harry and hugs around his middle, laying his head down on Harry's chest. Harry tenses up, automatically readying himself for Niall's mouth, but he relaxes after a second and holds Niall close. They're all squeezed in on the same couch except for Liam, who's sitting on the floor between one of Zayn's knees and one of Louis' knees.

"You're not going to cry this time, are you, Niall?" Louis says.

"What movie is it?" Niall says.

Niall cries during The Lego Movie, but only because it's emotional and not because he's unhappy.

~*~

When the movie's over, they all retire to their various rooms. Niall doesn't need to invite Harry anymore, or vice versa. Harry carefully takes his big floral top off, grimacing when the fabric brushes against his nipples and sighing in relief when he's finally free of it.

"Are you okay?" Niall says. He wants to give Harry space, but he remembers how Harry looked on stage tonight when Niall touched him, and he wants to see it again. He reaches out and presses his thumb to Harry’s nipple, watching as a drop of milk comes out and rolls down onto his hand. Harry winces, but a small moan escapes his mouth.

"Just like, extra tender," Harry says, his breath catching. "I'm leaking a lot too, as you can see. That's why I got this. There's like, a built in thing."

"Like a bra?" Niall says.

"There's like, flaps on it," Harry says, hiding his face in his shoulder and looking at Niall through his eyelashes, clearly embarrassed. Niall feels terrible; Harry shouldn't have to feel bad about himself because Niall needs what his body gives naturally. “I borrowed it from Lou.”

"Hey," Niall says. "I like it."

He crowds into Harry's space, pressing him back against the doorway of the bathroom, and kisses him. The bathroom has scraps of fabric on the floor, tossed carelessly from Harry’s head so his hair can be wild and free. Harry’s brought his toothbrush to Niall’s room and it sits on the sink near his own. Harry’s bags are next to the bed, half open next to Niall’s. They’ve lived on top of each other for years, always in each other’s space, but these little things add up to be big in Niall’s mind, living together instead of nearby, even if only for a night.

Niall works his knee between Harry's spread legs and shifts up. He mouths at Harry's jaw, sucks a kiss into his neck before moving lower until he can fit one of Harry’s nipples into his mouth while they're standing. Harry tosses his head back, hitting it on the wall behind him on a soft moan. Harry seems so tall right now, and Niall so little, able to fit with him easily.

"God," Harry says. He presses down on Niall's thigh between his legs, holding on to Niall's head as he drinks from him. "Why is this so hot?"

"Tell me," Niall says. He digs his fingers into Harry's side and puts his other palm over his own cock, trapped in his jeans still, pressing hard to get some relief.

"I just like - " Harry stops and squeezes his eyes shut. He breathes in and out, shaking.

He tears his mouth away and kisses Harry's chest, sloppy and open-mouthed, latching on to his other nipple. "Go on, say it," Niall says. "Don't be embarrassed. Tell me."

"I just feel like, really sexy," Harry says. "I like doing this for you. I like - being full of milk for you."

That's what does it for Niall. He comes in his pants, his own hand barely touching himself. He bites down gently on Harry's nipple and his spine arches up and he comes on Niall’s thigh, his whole body shivering. They stay there for a little while, holding each other up, panting into each other's skin. Harry’s nipples leak a little bit, and Niall isn’t shy about cleaning him up now. He licks until Harry tells him to stop, too sensitive to take it.

“Let’s take all our clothes off and get in bed,” Niall says.

“You know me so well,” Harry says.

“Like the back of my hand,” Niall says.

They each get out of their gross, crusty clothes and climb into the bed. Harry piles all the pillows together so they have to sleep on the same one, right in the middle of the bed, cuddled close. Niall can’t say he minds it.

“You know,” Harry says, “I’ve thought about that. Like, do all of us really know what the backs of our hands like, look like? Like, I know it okay, but not as well as I know other things. I know more about you than I do my hand. Like, if someone chopped my hand off and tossed it onto a pile of like, other people’s chopped off hands, and told me to find my hand so I could get it sewn back on, I don’t know if I could. I’d just end up with someone else’s hand and walk around with one freakish hand and one normal one.”

Niall stares at him. “Shut up.”

“Could you find your hand in a pile of hands?” Harry says.

“Go to sleep,” Niall says. “And probably, yeah.”

~*~

Harry is on him as soon as they walk off stage. He was on him on the stage too, of course - rubbing his cheek on Niall’s shoulder, pressing his lips to Niall’s hair to say something to him, massaging his elbows for some reason, even full-body hugging him once, leaving Niall no choice but to wrap his arms around him as well, standing on his tip toes. Apparently Harry had been holding back, though, because by the time they get on the bus, Niall finds it almost difficult to walk now that he has the extra weight of Harry clinging to him.

“What’s with you?” Niall says. Harry has always been handsy, and Niall gives as good as he gets, but this seems different and more intense somehow.

Harry shoves him along to the back lounge on the bus. Niall isn’t even sure if someone is following them onto this bus tonight, or if they’re alone. When Harry tears his clothes off and gets to work on Niall’s, it’s hard to care who’s here besides them.

“I just want to be close,” Harry says. “I love being close to you.”

“I love being close to you, too,” Niall says. Harry’s hands on him are starting to give him the feeling of being slapped all over, so he holds on to Harry’s wrists. Harry bites his lip and closes his eyes. “But calm down. You’re acting like an angry cat.”

“I am,” Harry says. “I’m an angry cat for you.”

He wriggles his wrists out of Niall’s grip and grabs Niall’s face to kiss him, but Niall is laughing too hard to kiss back. Harry takes the time to gently shove Niall back onto the bed. There’s commotion outside the bus, footsteps and loud chattering, the squeaky sounds of traffic on the street. They all seem distant compared to the harshness of Harry’s shallow breaths as he crawls up between Niall’s legs, his fingers digging into the flesh of Niall’s thighs as he parts them. His cheeks are pink and dewy, his mouth open and wanting.

This is the first time they’ve fooled around without doing a feeding first, Niall thinks. The first time they’ve gotten worked up over each other without Niall’s need for milk between them. The first time they haven’t silently used the excuse - well, while we’re here, might as well. Normally they combine the two, no reason to have one without the other.

Niall only has a moment to be confused about why they’re doing this before Harry has his lips wrapped around his cock. He’s close to coming already, the feeling of Harry’s warm, wet mouth and his spine tight from being wound up all night. He tries to warn Harry, even tugs at his hair to get him to pull off. Harry only whines and sucks harder, practically begging Niall to come in his mouth, so he does.

Harry crawls up Niall’s body and jerks himself off, the straining of the hard muscles in his arms glistening with sweat as he works his cock, fingers dragging over Niall’s belly. Niall would help, but his muscles are liquid and exhausted, so he just lifts his thumb and finger to one of Harry’s nipples and pinches it.

“Hey, Niall,” Harry pants. “Do you like seafood?”

Niall looks at him but can’t figure out where this is going.

“See? Food.” Harry opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out slightly. Niall’s come is still in it, slick and diluted with spit. Niall gags just as Harry comes all over his stomach, his laughing choked off by a loud moan.

“You’re disgusting,” Niall says. “You have the mind of a child. I thought I was gonna be sick.”

“You loved it,” Harry says. “What’s the difference between that and say, like, you having my milk in your mouth?”

“Well, Harry,” Niall says. “Milk comes out of your boobies, and jizz comes out of your weewee. And they’re completely different things. I’ll make you a doll with labels.”

“What if like, I had to suck you off and eat your come every day?” Harry says. Niall’s cock twitches at the words coming out of Harry’s mouth in such a casual, curious way. “Or else like, I’d die? Would you let me?”

“That seems unfair,” Niall says. “I’d be getting the most pleasure out of that deal, I think.”

“I like sucking you off,” Harry says. “Are you hungry?”

Niall shakes his head. He fed late this morning and he feels fine, strong and healthy if a little exhausted. He hasn’t felt anything but good ever since Harry started feeding him.

“I like when you suck on my nipples too, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Harry says.

“Great, ‘cause I like sucking on your nipples,” Niall says.

“Oh yeah?” Harry says. He pokes Niall in the side, then dances his fingers up into his armpits where Niall is most ticklish.

“Yeah,” Niall says. He gets his fingers into the fleshy part of Harry’s hips, where Niall knows it tickles. Harry kicks out immediately and retaliates by holding Niall’s arms down and darting down fast to lick his armpit.

“Oh yeah? Wanna fight about it?” Harry squeals as Niall tries to buck him off, but he’s able to hold on.

“You’re so gross,” Niall says.

“Just drink a little bit,” Harry says. He pokes his chest and winces, and Niall can see he’s full of milk. “Like, do a shot. My tit hurts.”

Niall takes the nipple closest to him between his lips and sucks gently, drinking down a few gulps. The frantic energy between them stills and dissipates and as their bodies settle down. Niall is just unlatching when he hears Harry snuffling quietly, the way he does when he sleeps. Niall’s eyes are burning and his throat hurts from the gig and from sex and from laughing. Finally, he snuggles into Harry’s chest and rests.

Niall likes getting off with Harry, of course. He likes the milk, too, and how close it makes him and Harry. He thinks his favorite part of all this, though, is after. After his belly is full and content and after they’re both coming down, sated and warm. It’s quiet except for the occasional bump in the road, the bus moving them towards their next destination. His ear presses close to Harry’s skin so he can listen to the steady pounding of Harry’s heart. It’s far-off thunder and it’s applause and it’s alive and right there, under Niall, keeping him safe. Sometimes their heartbeats will sync up, beating in unison before Niall’s speeds up again, or Harry sighs deeply in sleep. It’s cheesy, cheesier than Niall will admit to being, but he likes it so much.

He doesn’t know what they’re doing. If it stops - if Niall doesn’t need milk anymore - will the rest of it stop, too? Feeding and fucking have gone hand in hand this whole time. He doesn’t know if the two can be separated, or if he even wants that, or if Harry would ever want that. Both things just seem like a necessity right now. Maybe tonight was just a fluke, something Harry allowed because he was feeling frisky, and it won’t happen again. His arm squeezes tighter around Harry.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry says suddenly, apparently not as asleep as Niall thought.

“Sure,” Niall says.

“What does it taste like?” Harry says. “What do I - taste like?”

It’s not the question Niall was expecting. He thought Harry would ask something about how airplanes work or about cow stomachs or how long this was going to go on, if Niall won’t be done with drinking milk soon. He still always half-expects Harry to be done giving his body to him like this, but he’s sure he’s only projecting.

“It’s sweet,” Niall says.

“Oh,” Harry says, sounding a bit disappointed.

“What, you want a poem about it?” Niall says.

Harry nods.

Niall clears his throat and tries to conjure all the images that scroll through his mind as he feeds.

“It’s like,” Niall says. “Like, hot breakfast when you’re really hungover.”

“Beautiful,” Harry says.

“Like, going home and your mum making you your favorite meal. Like every good thing I’ve ever eaten all at once, but better.”

“Lovely. Do you have any non-food metaphors?” Harry says.

“It’s like the melted ice cream in the bottom of a cone,” Niall says wistfully, waving his hand towards the sky. “Like a cold pint on a hot summer’s day.”

Harry laughs and seems like he’s satisfied with Niall’s answers now, even though they were kind of silly, but Niall finds he doesn’t want to stop. He wants Harry to know what he does for him, how he makes him feel.

“It makes me warm from the inside all the way out,” Niall says, quieter now. Harry’s big eyes never leave his face. “Like I’m safe and looked after. Feels like - “

Niall almost says it, but he doesn’t. Harry sighs and runs his fingers through Niall’s hair until he lays his head down again.

“Sounds nice,” Harry says dreamily, already halfway back to sleep.

“Yeah,” Niall says. “It is.”

~*~

Liam is playing with a caterpillar he found when Niall gets on the bus. It’s a little green fuzzy thing that you wouldn’t know was alive until it moved. Apparently it was found clinging to the front of the bus when Liam rescued it. Now he’s sat in the lounge letting it crawl up his arm until he scoops it up and it rests in his palm for a minute, getting its bearings until it begins its climb again. It’s cute, Niall will admit, but it makes him itchy.

“Thought this bus would be safer,” Liam says. “Under my protection instead of Louis’.”

Niall nods. “Did you name him?”

“So fuzzy,” Liam says.

“Yeah, but did you name it?”

“That’s the name,” Liam says. He barely rubs the caterpillar with the very tip of his finger and it curls up into a ball, making Liam grin. “Sofuzzy. Named after Sophia.”

“Oh, does she like that?” Niall says.

“She loves it,” Liam says. “She told me she can’t wait to meet him.”

Niall shakes his head and throws his bag on his bunk. Harry texted him that he’s already in the back lounge and he’s anxious to get back there. They haven’t done a proper feeding in a while and he’s very hungry.

When he opens the door, Harry is lying on his back holding an ice cube to each nipple.

“Trying to make me a milkshake?” Niall says, then he forces a huge laugh and slaps his knee.

Harry’s only response is a frown.

“What’s wrong?” Niall says.

Harry’s lip trembles and tears fill his eyes. Niall sits next to him on the bed and rests his hand on Harry’s knee, making soothing sounds. He hasn’t had to comfort anyone in a while, since he’s been the one incapacitated by hunger and loneliness most recently, but he remembers how.

“I can’t,” Harry starts, but he begins crying and can’t finish.

Niall’s stomach drops. Here it is. He’s been waiting for this day to come. Harry can’t do it anymore - it’s become too much for him, Niall’s constant need and the way it affects both of them. Something must show on his face, because Harry is quick to shake his head.

“No, no,” Harry coughs out through his sobs. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean, like. Look.”

He removes the mostly melted ice from his nipples. They’re dark red and hard from the cold and wet of the ice, but underneath that, Niall can see. One of them has skin so dry it’s peeling, like a sunburn, and the other is worse, with cracked skin and blood underneath like a split lip. It’s raw and painful looking and Niall winces in sympathy.

Harry laughs, attempting to make it funny, but he coughs again and he breaks, crying some more.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Niall says. Tears threaten to spring to his eyes, but he chokes them back. Guilt overwhelms him. He can’t believe he’s been making Harry do this so much and for so long that it’s hurting him.

“It’s fine,” Harry says. He wipes his eyes on the back of his hand and sniffs loudly. “I just don’t think, like. I don’t think I can take it.” His voice wobbles. “I want to feed you, but I can’t. I’m a bad parent.”

Niall didn’t even think about that, but of course Harry isn’t crying like this just because his nipples are chapped. His main worry is how he’s going to feed Niall. He’s upset because this means they’ll have to stop. No more feeding, the closeness of their nights shared together cut off, at least for a while. Niall’s stomach growls. His heart aches worse.

“Maybe we can - “ Harry says.

“No,” Niall says, coming to a decision. “Absolutely not. You need time to heal. I can survive on regular milk for a while. Yeah? Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?” Harry says.

“Of course,” Niall says. He stands up to take his sweatpants off.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Harry says, the words almost unintelligible with how fast they shoot out of his mouth. “I mean, we can still. You know.”

“I dunno,” Niall says. “Your nipples look pretty gross. It’s like an open wound. What if one of them falls off while we’re getting freaky?”

“Shut up,” Harry says, but he laughs.

Niall is hungry and he’s only going to get hungrier. He remembers how weak he felt before Harry offered his milk to him and he doesn’t want to be that way again. Taking care of Harry is more important to him than that right now, though. Harry’s taken care of him for this long and he figures it’s time to give back a little. He settles into the bed and kisses Harry until they’re both panting and sweaty. Their bodies fit together easily, and it doesn’t feel like anything is missing as Niall gets them off, careful not to rub too much against Harry’s raw, cracked nipples.

~*~

The next stop is in the middle of the night. It’s a town just off the freeway with fast food restaurants and gas stations and not much of anything else. Niall tries not to wake Harry as he gets dressed to go out and stretch his legs.

Liam is outside already, his caterpillar still crawling on his hand. He twists his palm so it’s continually moving around, like a caterpillar treadmill.

“You gonna let him go?” Niall says.

“I know this is crazy, but like, I kind of want to keep him, you know?” Liam says. “Like, I feel like part of his life now, do you know what I mean? Like I’ve raised him, even if it’s only been a little while.”

“I understand,” Niall says, and he does, on some level.

"I want to see what kind of butterfly he becomes. How he’ll turn out. You know? If I’ve had an influence on him, or if I’ve helped him be a better person. God, I know it’s stupid. It’s just a caterpillar.”

“Yeah, well, he’s more than that,” Niall says. “He’s your friend, right?”

“Yeah,” Liam says. “Maybe I’ll keep him a bit longer. Until I can find him a good home. I’m gonna go find some leaves for him to eat. Do you need anything?”

“No leaves,” Niall says. “But thank you.”

Niall yawns and goes into the pharmacy around the corner. It’s so late that nobody else is in there. He automatically finds himself going to the baby care section. There are several shelves devoted to new mothers. He doesn’t know what half the things could possibly be used for: something to keep stuff from coming out of your body, something to make stuff come out of your body, something to stop your body from becoming another body. He spots one of the sling wraps Harry talked about before that makes it easier to hold your baby while breastfeeding. They even have special pads to tuck against you so you don’t leak, which he thinks Harry would find useful if he wore a bra all the time. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for.

“Whatcha buyin’, Niall?” Louis says from the end of the aisle. He’s got a basketball balanced against his hip with his arm and his head is cocked curiously. Niall fumbles the ointment and nearly drops it, but manages to save it and place it quickly back on the shelf. “Got a rash on your bum?”

“How about a new bottle?” Zayn says. He ambles over from the other end of the aisle, trapping Niall between him and Louis. He’s got a basket in one hand and offers a bottle to Niall with the other.

“Nappies?” Louis says. He throws his arm around Niall in a friendly way and kicks the nappies on the bottom shelf. With each item they name, they pick it up and show it to Niall.

“Dummy?” Louis says.

“Baby oil?” Zayn says.

“I don’t even know what that is,” Louis says, pointing at some contraption.

“Breast pump?” Zayn says.

“How about a new nipple?” Louis says.

Zayn pokes Niall’s nipple through his shirt. Niall sweats. He coughs into his hand, shifts from foot to foot. He doesn’t know how much they know or how they know it; all he knows is that they’re dangerously close to the truth. It’s not that he’s been keeping it a secret on purpose; it’s just that it’s difficult to explain, and so much of it. He’s wondering whether or not he should tell them everything so they don’t find out from someone else when they burst out laughing.

Before Niall can say anything, they run off, Louis dribbling the basketball through the back of the store and Zayn following behind him.

“Niall, do you know where Liam’s fucked off to?” Louis screams from the front of the store.

“Bus 2,” Niall shouts back. “He’s got a caterpillar.”

Niall listens for the store to become empty of Louis and Zayn - it’s a distinct sound when they’re present - then waits a few minutes more after that to make his purchases. He grabs a gallon of milk, too. He doesn’t know when the last time anyone’s bought any for the bus.

When he gets back to the bus, Liam is asleep on the sofa. The caterpillar is resting on his chest, curled up in a little ball. Niall thinks that would feel nice right about now and goes to curl up on Harry as they start moving again.

~*~

“I can do it,” Harry says.

“Let me,” Niall says. “I’m the one who did this to you.”

Harry huffs, but he lies back on the pillows and stays still. Niall squeezes a dab of the ointment onto his fingertip. It smells vaguely medicinal but pleasant in a way. He wipes it on Harry’s nipple carefully, then massages it in with his thumb in slow circles.

Harry hums. “Feels nice.”

“Looks like I’m giving your mothman face a poke in the eye,” Niall says.

“He likes it,” Harry says. He bites his lip and lets it go slowly, whimpering when Niall presses harder. His lips are the same color as his nipples, Niall thinks, deep red and shiny. Niall kisses him and his lips are soft and and wet, not dry and damaged like the nipple under his thumb. He wonders if they kissed enough would their mouths would crack and bleed. When he pulls back, Niall rubs his thumb on Harry’s lower lip the same time he rubs his other thumb over Harry’s nipple.

“Isn’t your lip skin and your nip skin the same thing?” Harry says. “I need like, a skin graft. Take my lips and put them on my nips.”

Niall shuts his eyes and sighs. Harry makes up for being an idiot by sucking Niall’s thumb into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it once, then lets it go, leaving it slick with spit.

Milk still leaks out of Harry regardless of the shape of his nipples. It dribbles down his chest as Niall works on rubbing the ointment in, his hands getting sticky with it. His body craves it so much - both his stomach, which seems empty, no matter how much regular milk he drinks, and something that goes deeper than that. Even though he’s here with Harry and he’s got his hands on him and everything, it’s like they’re not as close as they were, as close as they could be. It’s crazy, he thinks.

Harry runs his fingers through Niall’s hair, like he does when he’s feeding. Niall’s been still and staring, distracted by the milk slowly dripping from Harry. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and gets up to wash the mess from his hands.

“I know,” Harry says. He sighs, sounding frustrated. “I miss it, too.”

“We’ll be okay,” Niall shrugs, waving him off. He hopes it’s the truth.

~*~

Niall lies on the floor with his guitar on top of him. Someone pries it from his grip, forcibly opening each finger before taking it from him. He’s so tired. Faces hover above his own, talking to him. Harry is there, and it makes him smile, but only for a second. Smiling takes too much energy. He shuts his eyes and folds his legs up to his chest, making himself as small as possible. It’s loud and dark and everything hurts. Every part of him is empty, but his bones are heavy. It will be impossible to move from this place.

“Niall,” someone says, over and over. He can’t respond. He wants to go to sleep so badly, for days, undisturbed. He’s being carried somewhere, up and away, then sat down again. Wherever he is now is much quieter, and he thinks they’ll let him sleep. Something presses against his mouth and he scrunches his nose and turns away from it. They try again, and this time he doesn’t resist.

Warm milk floods his mouth. A lot of it dribbles out and drips down his chin, but soon he starts swallowing by instinct. He feels like a glass getting filled, from the tips of his toes, his shaky knees, the hollowness in his stomach, all the way up to his heavy eyes. It’s real milk, too, sweet and just for him. It’s Harry’s. Harry is holding him up to his chest, shushing him though Niall’s not making a sound.

“That’s good,” Harry says. He’s speaking calmly, but there’s wildness in his eyes that suggests he feels otherwise. “That’s it, babe. That’s it.”

Niall swallows too hard and coughs, choking and sputtering. They’re alone in the dressing room backstage. Niall wonders how Harry managed to make that happen considering how scary Niall must’ve been acting. The last thing he remembers is they were coming off for the quick change before the encore - then he collapsed.

“I knew this would happen,” Harry says. His voice is flat and serious, and he looks like shit. It’s only been a few days of Niall being off feeding, but they’re both on edge in their own ways. Niall has begun crying a lot again and he feels like he’s got the flu, and Harry is beyond sore from being so full of milk. The gigs this week have been sub-par on Niall’s part. He’s missed marks, flubbed lines, and even gotten so distracted looking at Harry that he’s just completely stopped in his tracks and stood still for minutes.

“I’m okay,” Niall says. Harry stares at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry.”

“You should’ve told me that it was this bad,” Harry says. “My nipples aren’t worth that.”

There’s a sharp knock at the door. Louis pokes his head in without waiting for an answer. He takes in the scene: Harry with his shirt open, Niall cradled weakly in his arms. It’s probably the first time in his life he hasn’t commented on anything.

“Everybody all right?” Louis says.

“Fine,” Niall says. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

Niall hears quiet chattering outside. The crowd is stomping and chanting. When they come out of the room, everyone backstage crowds around him and asks if he’s all right and if he needs anything. He waves them off, trying to explain he just got dizzy or whatever. Harry’s right; he should have told him. The last thing he wants is for this to affect anyone else more than it already has.

~*~

Harry buys a breast pump the next time they stop somewhere late at night. Niall wonders how the cashier reacted to that one, what excuse Harry gave. Niall helps Harry get ready – he gently washes Harry’s nipples with a cloth, then rubs some of the ointment he got into his skin on and around them. He’s so swollen with milk that he leaks uncontrollably even if he’s not being touched. Once he’s had to wear his maternity top with the built-in leak guard bra on stage because it got so bad.

“How long are you supposed to do it?” Niall says.

“The instructions say for about 15 minutes,” Harry says. “I guess I’ll see how long it takes to like, be empty.”

They both get the pump in the right position. Harry got a fancy, battery-powered one, so he only has to hit a button for it to start. The clear plastic vacuum fixtures suck Harry’s nipples into them, and it’s mesmerizing. Harry winces and sucks in air through his teeth.

“Does it hurt?” Niall says.

“Little bit,” Harry says. Slowly but surely, milk dribbles into the attached containers, and when it does, he immediately groans in relief.

“Feel good?” Niall says.

“So good,” Harry says. “Better than anything you’ve ever done.”

“Does it feel like my mouth?” Niall says.

Harry shakes his head hard. “No, it’s more - impersonal.”

“I have to say,” Niall says, “this is turning me on.”

Like all things Niall has done, it should be weird, seeing Harry hooked up to some machine that’s taking his bodily fluids from him, his back arched up from the cushy hotel chair in an almost sexual way from how relieved he feels. It only makes Niall want to add to how good Harry feels.

He’s probably going to pay for it tomorrow morning, but Niall drops to his knees in front of Harry. The plush carpet cushions him nicely, but his kneecaps still creak from being on the floor.

“Your knees sound like a crisp wrapper being opened,” Harry says. “Like, crinkly paper.”

“Shut up,” Niall says. He bites the inside of Harry’s thigh and Harry squeezes his legs shut around Niall’s head and laughs when Niall acts like he can’t get free. He surges forward and mouths over the fabric covering Harry’s cock, then figures Harry’s probably had enough buildup for a lifetime and pulls his underwear down to his ankles.

Niall takes Harry in his hand and pumps him a few times. He’s never really done this before, had a cock in his mouth, but he decides to treat it as a really big nipple. He’s had plenty of practice sucking on those. He tells Harry this and Harry chokes from laughing and puts his foot on Niall’s chest to kick him away lightly.

“You said they weren’t the same thing,” Harry says. “You’re a hypocrite.”

“Do you want to me to suck you off or not?” Niall says.

“Go ahead,” Harry says. “Suck my fifth nipple.”

Niall grips the base of Harry’s cock and fits his mouth over just the head, lapping his tongue over it. Pre-come spurts out and he swallows it reflexively. He’s had so much of Harry’s body fluids in his mouth, he can’t care. When he’s comfortable with the weight of Harry on his tongue and how full his mouth feels, he tries going down further. Harry gasps and grips Niall’s hair at the back of his head. The pump whirs and pulses like a mechanical hospital contraption, and every time it pulses, Harry lifts his hips slightly.

Niall pulls off. “Stay still.”

Harry nods, his eyes completely blown out. The nipple not being pumped drips milk and Niall can’t resist dragging his finger through it and licking it up.

“Do you want to switch sides?” Niall says.

“You’re not done,” Harry says, pointing at his cock.

“No, you idiot,” Niall says. “I mean, your nips.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “Yeah.”

Niall gets him set up on the other nipple and drops back down between Harry’s legs. He seems impossibly hard now, his cock resting against his belly and leaking. Niall takes him far into his mouth and sucks until his cheeks hollow. Harry stays still, but he’s not quiet about it, moaning and swearing above him.

“Fuck, Niall,” Harry says. “I’m gonna come.”

Niall doesn’t think he wants to swallow all of Harry’s load, or be disgusting about it like Harry had with his, so just rests his tongue at the head and jerks him off. Harry comes all over his lips and hand, the taste of it just barely reaching his mouth.

“I think I’m empty,” Harry says, panting.

“I’ll say,” Niall says. He wipes his hand clean on Harry’s discarded underwear and unhooks the pump carefully.

“I liked that,” Harry says. “But not as much as I like you.”

~*~

Harry’s pumping leaves Niall with a few days of breast milk at a time while his nipples heal. Even though it’s not fresh from the source, it’s still better than regular milk, especially when he heats it up.

Harry asks if he wants to be fed, and Niall doesn’t understand what he means until Harry takes his bottle from him. Harry holds him close to his side, his arm warm around Niall’s back, and puts the bottle to his mouth. Niall drinks until he’s content, warm and taken care of again.

When Niall is finished, Harry kisses him right away. There’s still a trace of milk on his lips and Harry laps at it, tasting.

“Ugh,” Niall says. “What’s with you?”

“I’d never tried it before,” Harry says. “Just curious.”

Niall belches in his face. “Try that.”

“Do you like this better or do you prefer the nip?” Harry says. He tosses Niall’s bottle on top of a pile of dirty clothes so they’ll remember that it needs to be washed.

“I like both,” Niall says.

“Which one is your favorite, though?” Harry says. He points at himself and winks, nodding emphatically.

“My favorite is whatever you have,” Niall says. “Whatever you give me.”

~*~

Niall waits in the lobby with Harry. He’s chewing his fingers raw, so he rests them on his lips, tapping out a rhythm. Nerves overtake him after only a moment and he uses his teeth again, decimating his fingernails completely.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Harry says.

“Yeah,” Niall says. “I’ll be fine. You?”

“I mean, I don’t want to go,” Harry says. “But it’s only a few days. Right?”

“Right,” Niall says. Both his thumbnails are gone. He bites the skin on the side of his fingers until it leaves teeth marks.

It’s their first long break of from tour. Niall is excited to go home and chill on the couch. He’s been making space in his mind for Harry in his house: where Harry could put his bags, what side of the bed Harry could sleep on, if Harry would want another type of laundry soap than he has, whether or not he has enough of a variety of scented candles for Harry. He’s even looked up how to grill a variety of fruits for when they barbecue.

Maybe it’s overkill to think that Harry would spend their entire break with him, since he spends nearly every waking moment and definitely every sleeping moment with him. They each have lives and friends and things to do outside of one another. Harry, for instance, has some meetings to go to in Los Angeles.

“There’s my ride,” Harry says. A black car waits outside to take him away.

“Okay,” Niall says.

“Do you want to come with me?” Harry says. His face is as miserable as Niall feels. Why are you going, Niall wants to ask. Why don’t you stay?

“No, no,” Niall says. “I’ve got me milk. I’ve got no need for you anymore.”

“Shut up,” Harry says, smiling. He shrugs his bag onto his shoulder, checks his pocket for his passport, checks again. The car honks.

“Go on, I’ll be fine,” Niall says. He knows he needs to be the one to push him. They have to be able to be apart from one another; it’s unrealistic otherwise. He cups Harry’s cheek and kisses him quick, then pats him on the bum to move him along.

“Text me if you need anything,” Harry says.

“Will do,” Niall says.

~*~

Niall says his farewells to the rest of the lads and goes home. He watches telly idly for a few hours and slowly sips on a whole bottle of the milk Harry pumped for him. He’s got a week’s supply, as long as he doesn’t go on a bender. Before the sun is all the way down he decides he doesn’t want to be conscious anymore. He wishes he were up for some drinking, because he could really use a few pints right now.

The day he left for tour, he washed his sheets and made his bed. They still smell fresh and they’re cool and soft on his hot skin. He pulls the covers up over his head and makes himself as small as possible, curling his knees up to his chest and holding on. The bond that holds he and Harry together unravels from somewhere deep inside him and stretches thin, all the way across the ocean, thousands of miles, until Harry is too far away for it to reach this far. It snaps, frayed and worn, and un-tethers them from one another. He doesn’t know if it’s real or not, or if it’s only an image conjured in his mind, but it leaves Niall with a hollow pit in the center of his stomach.

Niall sobs harshly into his pillow. It’s only been a day, he thinks. Not even a full 24 hours. He’s not hungry at all, and his body is stronger than ever, and he misses Harry so badly it hurts.

He manages to fall asleep, but every noise stirs him, unfamiliar in a place that shouldn’t be. It’s somewhere in the middle of the night when his phone lights up.

Please come out here. I’m so sorry I left. I miss you so much.

Damn right, Niall manages to type out, his hands shaking.

~*~

The moon is rising in California by the time he lands just hours later. He was going to be more sensible and wait until morning, but the thought of sleeping alone while Harry waited for him was unbearable.

Harry’s leaned up against his motorcycle, only the bottom button of his shirt buttoned and his bare chest completely out. There are plenty of people arriving, and even the short walk Niall has from the gate to the curb gives two people a chance to ask Harry for a picture. He’s engrossed in his phone when Niall sneaks up on him.

“Waxing gibbous,” Niall says.

Harry screams, but he’s pretending, or at least Niall thinks he is. Then he opens his arms wide and crashes into him, nearly bringing them both to the ground. Every worry leaves his body when their skin touches, replaced by incredible calm. By the familiar noises Harry makes, Niall knows he’s feeling the same way. Niall is wrapped in Harry’s arms and it’s better than blankets fresh from the dryer. It’s home more than anything else.

“What did you call me?” Harry says.

“It’s the moon phase,” Niall says.

“You’re a moon phase,” Harry says. Niall thinks Harry is going to kiss him right here, in front of all these people, but instead of puts his lips on the side of Niall’s neck and blows a loud, wet raspberry. Niall flails and tries to escape, the vibrations tickling like hell, but Harry won’t let him go.

“Get off me,” Niall shouts.

Harry backs off, but he darts in quicker than a snake and gets one more raspberry in, bringing Niall to tears of laughter.

“Come on,” Harry says. “We’re going for a ride on me old hog.”

“Who’s we? You got a banana in your pocket?” Niall says.

Harry wags his eyebrows. Then he frowns. “Actually, yes.”

Niall’s not afraid of riding on a motorcycle owned and operated by Harry Styles, necessarily. When he pictures it, all he can see is his mangled and broken body being thrown into the air and rolling into a ditch because Harry saw a pretty feather or something and veered off the road. He’s not afraid so much as he is uninterested in dying.

“I dunno,” Niall says.

“I have a license,” Harry says in a luring, sing-song tone. “I had to take a class.”

“Did you pass?” Niall says.

Somehow Niall ends up on the back of Harry’s motorcycle with a sparkly gold helmet jammed on his head. Harry is giddy and he hollers when he accelerates, weaving between lanes at a speed Niall is uncomfortable with. He presses so close to Harry’s back that he thinks he’ll go right through him. His arms wrap around Harry, the muscles in his arms straining from how tight he’s squeezing.

“Not the nips,” Harry says, moving Niall’s hands down a few inches.

The faster and farther they go without crashing, however, eases Niall into loosening his grip just a bit. Harry knows a good route where they can just ride smoothly without getting stuck by a lot of lights. The mild, California wind is pleasant as it whips against his face, and the feeling of being in the open air with nothing between him and the world except Harry is freeing.

They spend the ride singing at the tops of their lungs over the wind. Whatever song Harry starts off with, Niall can pick up easily. They’re just at the end of “Dead or Alive” when Harry slows and swerves off the road, parking and cutting the engine.

“Where are we?” Niall says. His thighs are stiff from being tense and it takes him a minute to swing his legs off the seat to stand.

Harry points to somewhere in the distance. It’s still dark out, but there are buildings down the way and some street lamps. The sharp saltiness of sea air hits his nostrils, and if he listens close, he can hear the lapping of gentle waves on the beach. It’s chillier here, and he shivers and stands close to Harry.

Niall looks at the messages on his phone. Liam has sent him a series of photos of Sofuzzy the caterpillar, who’s emerged from his cocoon and bloomed into a beautiful, pale green moth. There’s a picture of the moth resting on Louis’ nose with Louis crossing his eyes to look at it, and another picture of Liam holding the moth out to Zayn and Zayn touching his fingertip to Liam’s but not quite touching the moth. Niall scratches his neck and face and wants to claw his skin off, but he’s happy Liam got to see what his caterpillar became. He shares the pictures with Harry and compares it to his tattoo, but they’re not the same species.

It’s like they’re on the edge of the earth when it happens. Even with all the buildings and trees in the way, the sunrise is breathtaking. It peeks its head up over the ocean, then lifts itself up, slowly, until everything seems to glow orange and soft, like a giant scented candle.

“Eh,” Niall says with a shrug.

“Yeah, it’s all right,” Harry says. “It’s like, who cares? Seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all.”

“Too true,” Niall says. “I’m over it. Let’s go.”

Niall puts the address of his hotel into his phone and helps Harry navigate. He’s a little bit peeved that he has to spend his break in yet another hotel room, but so far it’s worth it.

When they get to Niall’s room, Harry kisses Niall hard and fast, like he’s been holding back and the urgency just breaks loose and floods out of him. He gets his shirt all the way off, then the rest of his clothes, then he tugs at Niall clothes until he’s naked, too.

Niall presses his fingers to Harry’s nipple, questioning, and Harry nods quickly.

“They’re healed enough,” Harry says. He’s trembling under Niall’s touch. A few drops of milk leak out over Niall’s hand and Harry gasps. Niall can tell he’s so tender and full for him, even though it hasn’t been that long since Harry last pumped.

“Are you hungry?” Harry says. “What do you want to do?”

Niall lies down on the bed. He crooks his leg up and rests his head on his hand, posing and pouting until Harry laughs.

“I want you to fuck me,” Niall says.

“God,” Harry says. Both his nipples are leaking, and pre-come dribbles from his flushed cock. It makes it seem like the angry moth man face tattooed on him is crying because he’s so horny.

“Your tattoos are just a series of bad decisions,” Niall sighs. “You’re going to look ridiculous for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, Mum,” Harry says. “Put your hands under your knees and spread ‘em.”

Niall lifts his knees into the air and lets Harry put a pillow under his back. He hardly knows it’s happening right up until he feels Harry’s open mouth on his hole, his tongue flicking out. Niall makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a gag, and he doesn’t know if he should let Harry continue.

“I know, I’m gross,” Harry says from between his thighs. “I like gross stuff. Deal with it.”

“Don’t stop,” Niall says, spreading his legs wider.

Harry gets him wet enough to put a finger inside him, then works up to two, slowly. He licks between his fingers, opening Niall up, his tongue wet and rough. For some reason, Niall feels closer to Harry now than he does when he feeds, which doesn’t make sense. Everyone has an asshole, but not everyone lactates, so it shouldn’t be that special. He likes that Harry likes doing this to him, though, likes that Harry wants to be this intimate with him.

“Okay,” Harry says. He’s sweaty and wild-eyed, kissing up Niall’s body, his belly, his throat.

“Okay,” Niall says. “So.”

“Hang on,” Harry says.

Harry hops off the bed and stumbles, falling to the floor. Niall laughs at him. He’s the one with his legs awkwardly in the air and his ass exposed, but Harry is going to have rugburn on his dick. Harry crawls over to one of his bags and comes up with a small bottle of lube and a condom.

“Ugh,” Niall says. “Do you just always have that with you? Like at all times?”

“I wanted to be ready,” Harry says. “Like, for you.”

“Oh,” Niall says.

“I want to bring you to climax,” Harry says. “I want to make love to you.”

Niall grimaces and shakes his head. “Just get on with it.”

Harry slicks up Niall’s hole, fingering him open for a little while longer. Niall’s breath is ragged and he inhales sharply every time Harry shoves back inside.

“More, come on,” Niall says. “Fuck - make love to me. Oh, Harry! Make love to me!”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he gets himself ready. He fits the head of his cock in Niall’s ass, pressing forward slowly until he’s inside. If Niall thought anything they’ve done before had been intimate, he was wrong. He’s never felt closer to another person than he does to Harry right now. Heat ripples through his entire body, from his cock to his useless limbs. He wraps his legs around Harry’s back and gets him just that much closer. Harry’s nipples hover over Niall’s face as they adjust to their position, and he leans up and takes one into his mouth and sucks. He’s full of Harry in every way and he never wants it to stop.

“Shit,” Harry says, thrusting shallowly.

“Fuck me,” Niall says.

Harry rocks his hips faster, pulling almost completely out of Niall and fucking back in, slow and sweet.

“You like this?” Harry says.

Niall moans in response, nodding absently, brushing it off as idle dirty talk. Harry stills completely. He’s looking at Niall expectantly, and Niall realizes it was an actual question. He’s really making sure Niall likes this.

“Yeah, yes,” Niall says. He arches his back, moves his hips to get Harry to start fucking him again.

“Tell me,” Harry says. The speed and roughness of his thrusts pick up and Niall slides up the bed, so Harry hauls him closer and holds on to him. There are trails of milk on Niall’s chest from Harry’s leaking and their bodies are sticky with it, with the sweat pouring off them, with the pre-come dripping from Niall’s cock.

“I like - having you inside me,” Niall says. “Everywhere. You’re in me everywhere.”

“Fuck,” Harry says. He laughs. “I’m Michelle Branch.”

Niall only has a second to be confused before Harry rests his forehead on Niall’s and bites his lip, coming hard.

“Stay,” Niall pants. “Stay there.”

He sucks hard on Harry’s nipple and clenches his ass around the cock still inside him. Harry gasps harshly, over-sensitive, but he fumbles for Niall and gets his hand around him, jerking him off until he comes all over himself.

They’re both covered in a bunch of different fluids and disgusting. Niall almost demands that they take a shower when Harry brings them each their own wet cloth to wipe down with.

“Thanks,” Niall says. “I’ll leave the money on the table. Don’t wake me.”

“Shut up,” Harry says. He holds Niall by the chin and just looks at him, his eyes soft. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Niall says.

“You’re my baby,” Harry coos, tickling Niall under the chin. “You’re my widdle baby boo.”

“Get off me,” Niall says, slapping Harry’s hands away. “I’m a man.”

“What if I had given birth to you?” Harry says.

“You’re an idiot,” Niall says. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, but I love you,” Harry says.

“I love you,” Niall says. Simple as that.

~*~

Niall is woken up by Harry blowing raspberries on his belly.

“I don’t like that!” Niall shrieks.

Harry pins Niall’s wrists to the bed and sucks in air for several seconds, then darts in like a snake and blows the longest raspberry right under Niall’s bellybutton. Niall flails and kicks and screams for help until Harry releases him. Nobody even comes to check on them.

“What’s on the tray?” Niall says. He pulls the blanket up over his vulnerable belly and gestures to the little wooden table adorned with a single orange rose and a shiny plate cover.

“I ordered breakfast,” Harry says.

“It smells amazing,” Niall says, sniffing the air. The scent of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and the delicious smell of another person’s toast, which always smells better than your own, fills his nostrils. His stomach rumbles painfully, almost to the point where he thinks he’ll vomit.
“You want some?” Harry says. He uncovers the plate and the sight of all that food makes Niall’s mouth water.

“Hang on,” Niall says. “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah,” Harry says.

“For food,” Niall says. “For real food. Not just for - milk.”

Niall frowns. If he wants solid foods now, does it mean he’s done with drinking milk? He’s not ready for that. He doesn’t think he is, anyway. The smell of the bacon overpowers his mind and he can’t think of anything else. He hasn’t eaten anything in such a long time, and god, but he loves food.

“Try some,” Harry says. He picks up a piece of toast and touches the pointed corner of it to Niall’s lips. Niall tears his teeth into it automatically, chewing fast and swallowing too soon, but unable to stop.

“Oh god, that’s good,” Niall says.

“Have some more,” Harry says. He feeds Niall a piece of bacon by hand, then forks up some of the fluffy eggs and feeds that to him, too. Niall eats the entire plate of food in under two minutes.

"Have you ever gotten one of those double yolk eggs?" Harry says. "I had one once. It made me feel so bad that I kept them in a bowl in the fridge for like, a week. Then my mum threw it out and shouted at me for wasting food. It was horrible."

"Harry," Niall says. "I can eat again. Does that mean - are you, like. Dried up?"

Harry pokes one of his nipples. A light dribble of milk comes out.

"I'm not as sore," Harry says. "There's definitely a difference. Maybe you're just weaned off it now, yeah? My little baby's growing up."

"Ugh," Niall says.

Niall is confused. He doesn't know what this means for Harry and him, or how they'll fit together now that there's not the necessity of keeping Niall fed between them. He doesn't know exactly what they are.

"Don't worry," Harry says. He kisses Niall, his lips tart with orange juice.

"I won't," Niall says.

~*~

"Look at this one," Niall says.

His mum emailed him a load of baby pictures. She went deeper into her vault and there's more than they even used for the "Story of My Life" video. He pulls up a photo and angles his laptop so Harry can see it better from the position he's crammed into Niall's bunk. The picture is of himself in a leprechaun costume, sitting in a pot of gold, probably just barely old enough to sit up.

Harry laughs so hard he squeals and kicks the ceiling. "You're making a mockery of your own people."

"I know," Niall says.

"Here's mine," Harry says. He scrolls through a few pictures on his phone until he lands on the one he wants. It's a picture of him naked in the bathtub, which isn't that unusual.

"So what?" Niall says.

"Look at the toys," Harry says, practically bursting with the urge to laugh.

"Rubber duck. Tugboat. Is that a turd?" Niall says.

Harry shrieks, laughing and rolling around, knocking into Niall with his flailing. Niall laughs until tears roll down his cheeks and he can't breathe.

"You fucking tub shitter," Niall says. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Hey," Harry says. "I haven't shit in the tub in at least a year."

Niall lays his head on Harry's chest as they settle down. The instict to latch on to his nipple tickles at the back of his mind, but he knows nothing will come out. It's been weeks back on tour and he's completely back on solid foods, and Harry doesn't produce milk anymore, because he doesn't need it.

He’s got everything he needs already.