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It all starts when they’re discussing their plans for their precious week off for the Christmas holidays. They’re killing time at Louis and Harry’s place during one of those few hours of downtime that are not substantial enough to do anything significant, but provide an opportunity to squeeze in a few games of FIFA or idle chit-chat about something unrelated to work.
“I might fly my family to Rome. Mum said she wants to go somewhere warm,” Zayn says.
“Nah, man, you can’t have Christmas without snow,” Harry objects. “I might go skiing. Hey Lou, remember our ski trip last year? That was a blast.”
Louis, who is sprawled in Zayn’s lap and absorbed in composing a pithy and insightful tweet, replies without looking up. “You mean that time you and Stan let me fall asleep in the hot tub until my whole body was one giant prune? How could I forget. You’ll have to go without me though. I have to spend a few days with El —” he pulls a face, “— you know, keep up appearances.”
Liam makes a sympathetic noise, then brightens. “But it’s gonna be your birthday, eh? You have to keep Christmas Eve free, because we’ll throw you the birthday bash to put all birthday bashes to shame.”
Louis’s face darkens even further. “Yeah. Sure. Great,” he says, before heaving himself off the couch and slouching out of the living room. They hear the slam of his bedroom door.
“What’s crawled up his arse and died?” Zayn gapes, glancing around at the other lads.
Harry frowns thoughtfully. “You know how he feels about getting older. He hates being reminded.”
Niall looks up from where he has been focused on restringing his guitar and cracks a wry smile. “My mum’s been celebrating her thirtieth birthday for the last ten years. Reckon we should do the same for Lou?”
Harry wonders if it’s going to be one of those nights where he has to lure Louis out from his room with the promise and scent of freshly baked scones, when there is a screech from Louis’s bedroom. He flies back into the living room, bare feet skidding on the hardwood floor, and sticks his face so close to Liam’s that Liam flinches back a little.
“I’m getting wrinkles, Liam! Wrinkles! Look!” Louis pulls at the corners of his eyes and looks Asian for a moment. Privately, Harry quite likes the crinkles by his eyes, but he wisely chooses not to voice that thought.
“They’re laugh lines,” Liam states flatly.
“See? You admit I’ve got lines,” Louis spits out the word like it personally offends him. “D’you think I’ll age like Leonardo DiCaprio? I knew there was a drawback to looking like him.”
They’re used to his histrionics and only Niall is soft-hearted enough at this point to indulge him. “You’re turning twenty-one, Louis, not forty-one.”
“Same difference. Once you’re in your twenties, it’s all downhill from here.” Louis kicks Harry’s foot. “Do we have any rocky road ice cream? I’m in the mood for something sugary and unhealthy.”
“Nope,” says Harry, “but there’s a bottle of 1998 Veuve Clicquot in the cupboard that Dan brought over last time.”
“I hate wine, especially if growing up means you gotta remember pretentious wine labels.”
“At least you can legally drink in America, wine or not,” Liam shrugs.
“I hate the States, it’s too big and too hot and the girls scare me” Louis sulks, just to be contrary.
“Dear God, is he just going to get worse every year?” Zayn asks no one in particular. Louis slaps him (not too hard, because Zayn would never forgive him if he left a mark on his precious face), and Zayn tickles him (as hard as he can, because that’s Louis’s sole weakness). Harry joins in, going for a stealth attack via the backs of Louis’s knees. Liam does his part by pinning Louis’s arms behind his back. It doesn’t take much to subdue the older boy because he’s smaller than all of his younger bandmates.
“Uncle! Uncle!” Louis gasps finally. He struggles valiantly and laughs until he cries, and Harry has the disquieting thought that he looks really good like this, held down between them, small and helpless and laughing.
*
They throw a birthday bash for Louis on Christmas Eve, but it’s more work than fun, as usual. The news of the venue must have leaked on twitter somehow because paparazzi and screeching fans line the streets as they pull up to the club. They ignore the paps, but can’t afford to do the same with the fans. Louis is short tempered already and Liam has to summon all his powers of persuasion in order to get him to work up a smile, sign autographs and take pictures with the endless stream of teenage girls who clamor for a piece of the birthday boy. Harry is almost glad that Eleanor is there because she luxuriates in these types of events and takes some of the attention away from the tight smiles that don’t reach Louis’ eyes.
“Let’s have a picture of you and El kissing under the mistletoe,” suggests Marco, pointing to the innocent-looking sprig affixed to the entryway of the club.
Louis pulls a face that only Harry can see and obediently smooches her on the cheek, pausing for the benefit of the cameras. Fans go wild. They do make a beautiful couple, Harry thinks, a twinge in his chest even as he knows it’s a facade. No wonder people buy so readily into their relationship. Harry turns away, unable to stomach the sight of his friend going through the act like a marionette.
“Christ, I thought we were off for the holidays. This is a massacre,” mutters Zayn. He pouts and throws a carelessly smouldering look at the crowd. Harry hears the sound of at least two girls faint.
“C’mon, let go inside and get drinks,” says Niall, always the optimistic one.
Alas, alcohol is nowhere to be found on the premises. Harry can only surmise that management doesn’t want to take the chance that photographic evidence will surface of a drunk Louis getting too intimate with someone of the same sex.
“Un-fucking-believable! This is a club!” Louis rails. “A club without booze is like — like Santa with no presents!”
“Maybe you’ve been more naughty than nice this year,” Liam’s friend, Andy, jokes, and Louis throws him a death glare.
He snags Liam’s shirttail and pounces on top of the other boy. “Lee-yum, take me to America tonight. New York, San Francisco, fucking Wyoming for all I care. I can get piss drunk and you can have, I dunno, a diet Pepsi or something and listen to my woes.”
“I thought you said you hated the States,” Liam points out.
“How very dare you!” Louis acts properly outraged. “Libel! ‘Tis the land of the free! Freedom, Liam, is worth its weight in gold.”
“Must not be worth much, then,” Liam replies dryly and Louis walks away muttering about insufferable bandmates and people with no sense of humor.
The club is filled with b-list celebrities, people Harry know by name and face only. Piers Morgan passes by and greets him with a “Happy Christmas, mate!” and Harry doubts Piers even knows why he is here. He spots Grimmy and latches onto the man for a bit, then gets pulled into a dance with a girl who claims she went to school with Louis and tries to get too handsy with him.
He uses the excuse of a full bladder to escape the girl’s clutches — Nicole or Nicola or some variation thereof — and seeks refuge at the drinks table.
“Louis’s being even more of a dickhead than usual today,” someone next to him gripes.
Harry opens his mouth automatically to defend his friend, then shuts it when he realizes it’s Eleanor. He looks at her in surprise, not because of what she said about Louis, rather for the fact that she’s voluntarily talking to him. As a rule, they avoid talking to one another; both of them know that they each belong in a different circle of Louis’s life and these circles don’t overlap.
“I hugged him earlier and you know what he said to me? ‘Can you get your boobs further away from my chest next time?’” She imitates in a huffy voice. “The nerve!”
“I reckon he’s going through a quarter life crisis,” Harry replies and tries not to laugh.
“Hmmph,” Eleanor snorts, “I had one of those last week. Here I am, wasting my golden years in a fake relationship — I mean, I’m twenty-one and I’m never going to look this hot again!”
“Um,” says Harry.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I got laid?” she continues.
Harry is slightly alarmed that she thinks they are suddenly close enough acquaintances to share stories about their sex lives. “I’d rather not know. Thanks.”
Eleanor throws him a dirty look, like he gave the wrong response. She sighs. “I need a bloody fag.”
“I think Zayn’s smoking in the men’s room. You can probably bum one from him,” Harry suggests.
“Cheers.” Eleanor turns on her heels, leaving Harry to breathe a sigh of relief.
Harry downs his drink and wonders where Louis is. He finds him on stage badly singing karaoke with Ed, acting like he’s tipsy even though the most he’s had to ingest tonight is Mountain Dew and woefully unspiked fruit punch. Louis waves giddily and beckons him onstage. He slings an arm around Harry and shares his microphone as they belt through the chorus of Forever Young, followed by Yesterday and Teenage Dream. Harry is starting to see a trend in Louis’s song choices, but Louis is giggling and warm where he’s pressed against Harry’s side, so Harry doesn’t comment.
Eventually Ed brings out his guitar, as does Niall, to enthusiastic cheers from the crowd. Harry and Louis sneak away onto the balcony as they strike up a duet. The chilly night feels good on Harry’s fevered cheeks. There is still a sizeable crowd outside the building that screams shrilly when Louis pokes his head over the side of the railing. Louis gives a halfhearted wave, then withdraws and sags against Harry’s side.
“Look, I got a happy birthday tweet from Uncle Simon. Reckon I should complain to him about the lack of booze?” Louis says, checking his phone.
“Day’s almost over,” Harry says bracingly.
“I feel tired. And old. Old and tired,” Louis moans into his shoulder. “You know, I never minded that my birthday falls on Christmas Eve. Sure, most people couldn’t come to my parties, or if they did they got me one present for both —”
“Already got your birthday present next to your bed, and your Christmas gift under the tree at home. It’s even got a bow on it,” Harry interrupts.
“Well, you’re not most people, are you?” Louis says, with a soft look in his eyes. “I never minded though. I thought it was special. It was my day, you know. But now it feels like … I dunno … like’s it’s being taken away from me. Like my whole life’s being pulled out under my feet.”
“I know what you mean,” replies Harry, who has long stopped keeping track of which female celebrity he is supposed to have slept with that week.
“So lucky to have you, man,” Louis utters, and Harry wonders if he managed to sneak in alcohol somehow because he’s never this maudlin when sober. “You, Liam, Zayn Niall … I can’t imagine going through this alone.”
“Want a hug?” Harry holds out his arms.
Louis nods and Harry pulls him in, slotting his lanky body against the curves of Louis’s smaller one.
“You’re a good hugger, Hazza.” Louis only calls him that when he feels sentimental. Harry holds him tight and tries to press all his feelings for this infuriating and endearing boy into Louis’s back through the palms of his hands.
A third pair of arms snakes around the pair of them — it’s Zayn, with Liam on his heels.
“What are you prats doing out here?”
“Me and Harry were having a moment and you ruined it,” Louis sticks out his tongue childishly.
“Can we join in your moment, then?” They rearrange themselves with minimal effort and fit together naturally into a group cuddle. But it doesn’t feel quite right because there is a space where Niall usually is …
“I can’t believe you guys are having a hug fest without me!” Niall cries and jumps on top of their huddled bodies so violently that they almost tumble over like dominoes of boy bodies. Louis, who is caught in the middle, gets jostled the hardest but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he digs his blunt fingernails into Harry’s back and laughs until he’s pink-cheeked and bright-eyed and looks so achingly carefree and young that it’s difficult to conceive he is in fact the eldest.
“Want us to create a distraction so you can slip away?” Harry says in an undertone.
“You’re my savior, sunshine,” Louis ruffles his hair and grins, “but not before I have my cake, because that’s really the only reason I’m here.”
When the cake is brought out, Louis goes into raptures at the miniature Louis made of frosting perched atop the layered confectionary. More pictures are taken while he cuts the cake. Afterwards, Harry drags Liam onstage into an impromptu skit and sees out of the periphery of his vision as Louis gives him a thumbs up and sneaks out the back door of the club.
*
By unspoken consent, they all end up driving to Harry and Louis’s house when the party’s over. It’s the band’s default meeting place and since they will separate the next day to be with their respective families for Christmas, there’s a tacit desire to stay together for a few more hours.
The sound of moaning reaches their ears as they toe off their shoes in the foyer and Harry has a sense of foreboding.
“Lou!” he bellow, “the gang is here so you better not be masturbating in the living room!”
“Yep, I’m watching porn on my birthday,” Louis states as they file in. “Don’t laugh.”
Thankfully, his clothes are on and it doesn’t look like they walked in on him mid-wank.
“It’s past twelve so technically your birthday is already over,” Zayn remarks, and heaves Louis’s legs off the couch to make room for himself and the others.
“Is it any good?” Niall gestures towards the screen.
Louis shrugs one shoulder. “Just something I came across on the adult channel.”
“I’ll go make popcorn —”
“It’s bloody porn,” says Louis, “not Schindler’s List.”
“— and grab some beer from the fridge,” Niall finishes.
“Okay, you do that,” Louis concedes. On his TV screen, a man with an unrealistically large penis is going down on a moaning woman wearing nothing but red stilettos. It doesn’t strike Harry as the sort of thing Louis would get off to. Not that he spends a lot of time speculating over his friend’s taste in porn.
It should have been weird, the five of them sitting in Louis’s living room at one in the morning watching cunninlingus on Louis’s high definition plasma screen TV. Yet there is no awkwardness in the silences between their usual banter. Louis, for one, looks more relaxed than he has all day, eyes half-closed and head listing to one side until it falls on Harry’s shoulder.
“Her vulva’s awfully large, isn’t it?” he says disinterestedly.
“Since when did you become a connoisseur of female genitalia?” Liam snickers and Louis lobs popcorn at his head.
“He’s doing it all wrong though, should be going for her clit,” Zayn criticizes.
“She seems into it,” Niall shrugs.
“That’s called acting, my friend,” Harry chimes in.
“Honestly, I can act better than her,” Louis says dismissively. When Zayn snorts, he grabs the other boy roughly by the hair and pushes Zayn’s head down into his crotch while he throws his head back, undulates exaggeratedly and cries out in a falsetto, “Oh Zayn, baby, eat me out, oh, fuck me, Zayn, fuck me with your big, hard, throbbing dick!”
Niall doubles over while Liam stuffs his fist into his mouth. Louis squawks when Zayn squeezes his balls in retaliation and relinquishes his hold on the other boy’s hair. When Zayn emerges from between his legs, his cheeks are flushed.
“Just for the record,” Zayn says, voice dark, “I would eat you out so good I bet I can make you come from my mouth alone.”
It’s Louis’s turn to blush. This is a game they play often with each other, all five of them — tease each other with innuendos until one of them has to duck into the nearest toilet to jerk off and endure the relentless mocking of the other for days afterwards. Harry is surprised when Louis turns back to the TV instead of coming back with an acerbic retort.
“You know what I’ve never done?” Louis wonders out loud.
“Oh, are we playing ‘I Never’ now?” Niall says and takes a preemptive swig of beer.
“I’ve never had birthday sex.”
“How’s birthday sex different from normal sex?” Liam asks.
“Well, birthdays are nothing but a sad reminder of the fact that you’re one year older and one year closer to your eventual end,” Louis explains. “What better way to feel alive than a good old roll in the hay?”
“It makes sense, actually, in a perverted sort of way,” Lam admits.
“It makes perfect sense,” Louis nods. “It should be, like, a tradition, really. Instead of receiving gifts, everyone gets a good blowjob on their birthday.”
“You’re not going to ask us to go out and find someone for you to shag, are you?” asks Harry suspiciously, “because I’m pretty sure that’s against our contract.”
Louis looks pensive. “You’ll do anything for me, right?” he says finally.
They glance at each other, wondering whether Louis had cooked up some midnight escapade that probably involves something illegal and definitely involves something their handlers would frown upon. But Harry knows that whatever he proposes, the rest of them would go along with it, like they always do.
“Sleep with me tonight,” Louis declares in a voice that brooks no opposition.
There’s a pause.
“Mate, we’re not going to fit in your bed. Not all five of us,” Liam points out.
“No, I mean —” Louis places his hand deliberately on top of Liam’s, “— sleep with me tonight,” he emphasizes, and meets their eyes in turn. There is an uncharacteristic shyness in his blue eyes and Harry feels the air flee his lungs when he realizes what Louis is asking.
Dawning comprehension settles on Niall’s face while Liam frowns slightly, like he’s not quite sure Louis is serious. Zayn looks baffled but Harry can already see the gears turning in his head.
None of them look as shocked as the situation deserves, because the truth of the matter is, all of them have fantasized about Louis at one point or another.
Louis has always been a physical person and it’s hardly uncommon for him to plop down on the nearest lap even if there is plenty of space on the couch. The first few times it happened, there may have been some discomfited squirming and reddened cheeks, but by the tenth, twentieth time, none of them batted an eye. Except Harry notices that Zayn’s eyes would glaze over a bit and he would rubs his hands, unconsciously, along the top of Louis’s thighs in a decidedly non-platonic way before jerking away and digging his fingers hard into the leather of the sofa.
At some point during the Up All Night tour, Liam wandered into Harry and Niall’s hotel room one morning, red-faced and flustered, still in his Batman pyjamas, and blurted out, “I had a wet dream about Louis last night.” (Liam being Liam, he had to tell someone before the guilt ate him up, and he figured they were the least likely to judge). Niall had regarded him serenely and said, “That’s happened to me before. Loads of times,” his tone nonchalant, as if that was the most natural thing in the world. Inevitable, really.
As for Harry, well, Harry’s been in love with Louis since the day they met in that damned bathroom, hasn’t he? In fact, Harry Styles cannot remember a time when he wasn’t in love with Louis Tomlinson, when Louis wasn’t the first person he looked for when he walked into a room, when Louis’s laugh didn’t bring a smile to his face, when Louis wasn’t there, always at the periphery of his vision, shining and commanding and effervescent.
Because Louis is the sun that all of them unknowingly revolve around, drawn by an inexorable gravitational pull.
Sometimes, they’re not much One Direction as they are Louis Direction.
People wonder at how they are so comfortable with one another. In fact, the physical intimacy of the band is probably a large part of their appeal to teenage girls. But they weren’t always this uninhibited with each other, this free to take liberties with each other’s bodies like mere extensions of their own. It was Louis who bridged the gap and erased boundaries; Louis with his grabby hands and overly affectionate manner who taught them that it was okay to touch.
And tonight it seems Louis is intent on pushing the boundaries still further.
“Are you sure?” Liam asks in a hushed voice. Harry is surprised that his first reaction is not an outright “no” and Niall seems to think the same, from the way the blond boy is staring open-mouthed from Louis to Liam.
“Hang on,” Zayn interjects, “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
In response, Louis climbs over Harry’s lap and presses a sweet kiss to Zayn’s mouth. They all fall silent because this is not a joke and with each passing second that Louis has his lips attached to Zayn’s, the tension in the room ratchets up a notch.
“Oh,” Zayn says, when they part. He looks stunned and Louis smiles smugly, like he already knows Zayn is in.
“Niall?”
The blond boy starts, as though he didn’t really think he was included in this … thing, whatever it is. He turns to look at Harry, of all people, for affirmation. Harry nods, and that seems to decide it for Niall, who reaches around Liam and claps Louis’s shoulder. “If it’ll make you happy.”
“Wait, shouldn’t we talk about this?” Liam protests.
“But we are talking about this,” Louis says patiently.
“I mean,” Liam scrubs his face, which is flaming, “this is really sudden and I don’t think you’ve thought it through and, hell, I need to time to think it through.”
“But Liam,” Louis wheedles, and crawls into the other boy’s lap, turning from petulant to raw sexual energy in the blink of an eye. “You can sit out if you want to, no pressure, but it would mean so much to me. I want all of you —,” he pauses to nibble at Liam’s earlobe, “— to make tonight really, really special for me.” His voice is pitched low and his hips move, almost imperceptibly, against Liam’s lap. Liam digs his nails into the leather of the sofa and looks helplessly aroused. Harry feels a pang sympathy for him because resistance if futile when Louis is grinding up in your lap and insinuating that he wants your cock in his arse.
“It is my birthday, after all,” Louis looks up under lowered lashes and Liam makes an incoherent sound in his throat.
“God, I need to be more drunk for this,” Liam says weakly, still brimming with reservation as though he fears Louis will break into laughter any second and reveal that it’s all an elaborate prank.
“Liam, I thought you were straight,” says Zayn, raising his eyebrows.
“Um, it’s situational,” replies Liam.
That is a pretty apt way of putting it, Harry muses. This is a situation, all right. A Louis situation.
“How do you wanna do this?” Zayn asks. The air buzzes with uncertainty and they all look to the older boy for guidance.
“Bedroom,” Louis decides. He grabs Zayn and Harry, the two closest to him, by the hand and leads them into his room, eyes beckoning Liam and Niall to follow. Harry’s heart thuds uncomfortably hard in his ribcage and he wonders if the others feel the same way. A room with the five of them in it is never silent, but it is now, charged with so much tension that the walls themselves are vibrating with it.
“C’mere,” Louis says to Liam, who looks the most likely to bolt from the room. He slots his lips against Liam’s and curls his tongue into Liam’s mouth. Liam’s fingers twitch reflexively, and he settles for placing them on Louis’s shoulders. Louis reaches out and snags Harry’s sleeve, using it to pull him closer. Harry runs his hands down Louis’s sides and dips under the waistline of his jeans to trace the sliver of soft skin there.
“You can touch me, you know,” Louis says breathily. “In fact, please do.”
Harry slides his hand lower and feels Louis’s cock thickening in his jeans. Louis makes a sound of approval and pushes into his hand. God, Harry wants to see him naked. Not that he hasn’t before; it’s quite unavoidable when they live together and share a tour bus six months out of the year. But Harry wants to see him nude, balls full and cock hard from the anticipation of getting fucked. He rucks up the hem of Louis’s shirt and Louis parts from Liam to allow him to pull his shirt off over his head.
They tumble into a graceless pile on the bed. More hands join in as Niall helps undo Louis’s flies and tugs his jeans and boxers off in one go. Louis sprawls on the bed, naked and flushed and arching greedily into their touch. He is hard in places and soft in others, a gorgeous paradox.
“Wow, you’re already hard,” Zayn says in a hushed voice, and reaches out run his thumb through the sticky precome gathering at the tip of Louis’s dick.
“Your turn. I wanna see you guys,” Louis says. Even if he is not shy about his body, his face is pink from being the only one unclothed and from having all their eyes on him.
Harry, who is naked half the time when he is at home anyway, is the first to strip. Niall, Liam and Zayn slowly follow suit, stealing glances at each other. They are not unfamiliar with each other’s bodies, but this is so wildly different from anything they’ve done before that Harry’s head is spinning.
The shedding of clothes seems to break some mental dam, like a point of no return. Louis rises on his knees and crawls over to Harry. He nudges one knees between Harry’s thighs and kisses him unhurriedly, hand pressed to Harry’s sternum where his heart is beating fit to burst out of his chest. Zayn shuffles up to Louis’s side and palms the arch of Louis’s lower back, hands exploratory and almost chaste. Louis turns his head and kisses him, too, all the while frotting lightly against Harry’s thigh. He clambers over Harry’s lap and snogs Niall and Liam in turn, tasting their lips like sampling fine wine. When Zayn’s hand ventures lower to graze his balls and perineum, Louis squirms and says, “There’s lube in the bathroom.”
“I’ll go get it,” Liam says in a hoarse voice. It’s probably an excuse for him to take a breather, a respite because this is all happening too fast and Liam is someone who likes boundaries and rules and knowing where he stands. Which is why Louis takes special delight in ruffling Liam’s feathers by acting the fool during interviews and public appearances. He takes longer than necessary, pottering around Louis’s bathroom, but returns eventually, cock bouncing half-hard and lube held aloft.
“Attaboy, Li,” Louis grins. Liam smiles back uneasily and Harry should be a little aghast at how well the older boy has them all wrapped around their little finger. “Harry, you’re good with your hands, aren’t you?” Louis turns to Harry and looks expectant.
Harry licks his suddenly dry lips and takes the bottle from Liam. He squeezes a liberal amount onto his fingers and runs the pad of his thumb over the rim of Louis’s hole, feeling it twitch.
“Don’t tease,” Louis whines. Harry slides his thumb in and his cock jerks painfully at how tight he is, hot and pulsing around his hand. Louis’s eyes are wide and sultry as they meet Harry’s, pupils blown and lashes dark. He rocks back on Harry’s hand and Harry can’t help but add a second finger just to see how much he can stretch out that tight arse.
“God, I love your fingers,” Louis says, sounding a little drunk. His head lolls back and hits Liam’s thigh.
Liam brushes his fringe out of his eyes. “Let’s take care of you, yeah?” he says and kisses the nape of Louis’s neck.
Louis nods and twists his head to meet Liam’s lips, moaning softly into his mouth as Harry fingers him open. His dick is leaking onto his stomach now and Niall touches him tentatively, stroking his thumb in circles over the slit. Louis’s eyes flutter shut and it’s a little mind-boggling to see him like this, submitting so readily to their ministrations.
Harry’s fingers pass over Louis’s prostate, making the other boy groan and bite down on Liam’s lip. He is delightfully responsive so Harry does it again, angling his fingers for that sweet spot. He debates whether to try for a third finger when Louis shies away.
“I wanna get fucked properly now,” he pants, eyes glinting. He gets up on all fours and wriggles his bum. “Who wants to go first?”
Zayn and Niall make a move forward at the same time. Niall laughs nervously and says, “Rock, paper, scissors?”
“I’m not waiting for you fuckers to play best two out of three,” Louis snaps impatiently. “Zayn, if your cock is not in my arse in three seconds, I swear I’m gonna take you up on what you said and make you eat me out until I come on your face!”
Zayn flushes and ogles Louis’s arse like he’s not opposed to the idea. Nevertheless, he quickly lubes up and positions himself behind Louis, using his thumbs to spread him open as he guides his cock in. Louis hisses and spreads his legs wider.
“This okay?” Zayn asks as he watches his cock disappear inch by inch into Louis’s arse.
Louis answers with a moan. They are all silent, struck by the intensity of the moment. Niall is stroking his cock languidly, mouth open as he focuses on the jerk of Zayn’s hips. Louis notices and pulls him closer until Niall is close enough for him to suck his cock into his mouth.
“Christ,” Niall says wonderingly, curling his fingers into Louis’s hair. Oh, he looks good like this, on his hands and knees and, getting fucked at both ends. He props himself up on one hand and slides the other from where it’s braced on Liam’s thigh to grope for the other boy’s cock. Harry grips the base of his cock hard and wishes he had a camera so he could record this scene and replay it for his own wanking pleasure.
“I wish I could take all of you at the same time,” Louis slips his mouth off Niall’s cock long enough to say. He eyes Harry’s dick hungrily as though having one in his arse, one in his mouth and one in his hand isn’t quite enough. Eager to oblige, Harry draws closer until the head of his dick bumps against Louis’s nose and smears a streak of shiny precome onto his cheekbone. Louis moans a little and tries to open his mouth wider to accommodate both Harry and Niall’s dicks in his mouth. An endearing expression of frustration crosses his face when he fails, but he compensates by alternating between the two of them, pulling off Harry’s cock to tongue at the head of Niall, then back, and forth.
“He’s so pretty, isn’t he?” Niall breathes, and turns to kiss Harry. Louis’s eyes flicker up to watch them and he sucks harder on Harry’s cock until his cheeks hollow and his cheekbones stand out in lovely contrast. Zayn is picking up the pace now, rocking Louis’s body with every thrust.
“You’re fucking tight, Lou, so much better than a girl’s twat, shit,” Zayn swears. He’s got Louis’s arsecheeks spread with his thumbs and his eyes are glued to where his cock stretches Louis’s hole obscenely wide, the rim pink and glistening with lube. Louis throws him backward glare, ostensibly offended at being compared to a girl, but Zayn reaches around and palms his balls and effectively shuts up any retort on his lips.
Louis lets go of Liam’s dick and tries to bat Zayn’s hand away. “Don’t,” he bites out, “I’ll come too soon. Still got all of you to fuck.”
Liam releases a shaky laugh, as though it’s just occurred to him that Louis expects them all to take their turn once Zayn is done. Zayn doesn’t let up, however, and strokes Louis’s dick in time with the snap of his hips, until Louis is panting so hard he can only press wet, open-mouthed kisses against Harry and Niall’s cocks because he doesn’t have the breath to give proper blowjobs.
“‘S okay,” Zayn grits out, fucking harder into Louis’s receptive body. “I wanna see how many times we can make you come in one night.”
“Oh God,” says Niall, and Louis echoes the sentiment with a moan. The slap of Zayn’s hips against Louis’s buttocks is loud and makes Harry wish that he had a better angle to see that perfect arse clutch snug and tight around a thick cock. Louis has given up multitasking and hangs his head between his shaky arms, eyes closed like he’s just concentrating on the drag of Zayn’s cock inside him.
“F-Fuck!” he seizes up and shoots into Zayn’s hand. Zayn continues to fuck him through his orgasm, rhythm thrown off and erratic, signalling his impending orgasm.
“I’m close too,” he grits out, “d’you want me to pull out or —”
Louis shakes his head and that’s all the encouragement Zayn needs before he grunts and goes still, exhaling long and low on Louis’s name. Louis shudders as though Zayn’s orgasm is an extension of his own and has to bite Harry’s thigh to muffle his cry.
“How do you feel?” Liam asks in a hushed voice as he strokes a thumb across Louis’s cheekbone.
“Like I could take you next,” Louis replies cheekily. Liam goes red and splutters so Louis decides to take matters in his own hands. He crawls forward to let Zayn slip out of his arse with a wet squelch. Liam watches wide-eyed, as Louis manhandles him onto his back. Louis is not even soft yet from his orgasm, yet he sits astride Liam’s hips and guides the tip of Liam’s dick to his entrance as though he can’t bear not having a cock filling him up. Harry has a fleeting glimpse of his shiny, pink hole before it is penetrated. In this position, they can see everything — Louis’s glorious round arse clenched tight around Liam’s cock, spasming as he struggles to accommodate the intrusion.
“Oh, you’re a big boy, aren’t you,” Louis sighs and Liam blushes to the roots of his hair.
Louis works himself down in increments, churns his hips in tight circles until he finds the angle he likes, then rises up a few inches off Liam’s cock and sinks back down on a long exhale. Leaning back, he grips Liam’s thighs and uses it as leverage. Liam cups the curves of Louis’s arse in his hands, guiding but not pushing, letting Louis take his time.
“God, you really like getting fucked, don’t you,” Niall comments. Louis huffs out a laugh and pulls him into a kiss, all the while riding Liam’s cock. He is beautiful like this, sandwiched between Liam and Niall, golden skin against pale.
Niall molds himself to Louis’s back and reaches around to grab hold of Louis’s dick, which is swelling again and twitching against his tense stomach. Louis gives a hiss and drops his head back onto Niall’s shoulder. He settles into a fluid rhythm, sitting down on Liam’s thick cock and rising up into Niall’s hand, face is slack with pleasure. Harry can’t help but stroke himself slowly as he watches the pornographic scene play out, more scorching and raw than the wildest fantasies that he keeps stowed away at the back of his mind. He doesn’t know where to focus his eyes: Louis sucking Niall’s tongue into his mouth, Niall’s hand sliding Louis’s foreskin against the wet head of his cock in slow, teasing strokes, or the play of muscles in Louis’s tireless thighs as he bounces up and down on Liam’s cock.
“C’mon, Li, move with me,” Louis pleads, thighs trembling a little with exertion and arousal. Liam plants both feet on the bed and angles his cock up experimentally. Louis makes a sound of approval so Liam grips the flare of Louis’s hips and guides him, up and down, into a faster pace. It’s easy to forget how strong Liam is, what with him being so gentle and good-naturedly submissive to their teasing. But there is no gentleness now in the way Liam maneuvers Louis onto his cock, biceps straining, and the way he thrusts up, purposeful and confident now.
“How’s it feel, Lou?” Niall asks, still working Louis’s cock with quick, efficient strokes that coax him back into hardness.
“So fucking good,” Louis groans, heartfelt. He presses the heel of his palm to his lower belly. “I can feel him, right here. Feels so fucking full.”
Niall grinds his cock slowly into the small of Louis’s back and probes between Louis’s arsecheeks curiously. “I wonder if you can take me and Liam — both of us — at the same time. That’d really fill you up. Split you open”
Louis’s cock jerks hard in Niall’s hand and a conflicted look crosses his face, like he’s seriously considering the possibility. Before he can say anything though, Liam gives a shout and comes, driving up into Louis so hard Louis almost loses his balance and tips forward onto Liam’s chest.
Louis winces when Liam slips out of him with a wet slurp. He rocks back and forth and drags his the head of his cock against Liam’s abs in search of friction, back arched and thighs open, waiting for the next person to take his turn.
Niall slides his cock against the cleft of Louis’s arse. “Lou, can I?”
“Yes, yes, please, oh —” Louis chokes up and his head drops onto Liam’s shoulder when Niall penetrates him, not even bothering to lube up because Louis is slick and loose already. Niall’s thrusts are fast and enthusiastic. Louis collapses onto Liam’s solid chest and lets the other boy pet his hair and kiss his cheeks as Niall plows into him. He reaches out blindly and finds Harry’s hand, which he latches onto, fingers tightening reflexively around Harry’s each time Niall hits his prostate.
“You’re taking it so well, Lou, such a good boy,” Harry murmurs and Louis raises his head, eyes glassy and blue and so grateful for Harry’s praise. His lips are bitten red and raw, his hair sticks up in all directions and he already looks so well ravished Harry wonders how he will have the fortitude to last through all of them.
None of them would have expected Niall to like it rough, but he surprises them when he plants his hands on either side of Louis’s body, digs his feet into the mattress, and takes the pace to punishing, battering Louis’s arse so hard it’s starting to turn red. Louis is starting to devolve into incoherent swearing, but he bucks his hips back to meet Niall’s every thrust.
“Jesus, Niall,” Harry breathes, feeling concerned for the way Louis is twitching and whimpering even as it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. “Fuck, you’re going to ruin him.”
“N-No — yes, yes, just like that! Uh, uh uh, Niall, fuck —” Louis growls and scratches red lines into Liam’s biceps. “I’m - uh - I’m gonna come again —” The muscles in his back and arse tense as Niall literally fucks the orgasm out of him. He pumps out a single streak of come onto Liam’s stomach and goes completely boneless.
Niall pauses to collect himself. His breathing is labored and there are spots of color high on his cheeks. He looks pained at having to hold himself still while Louis shudders and clenches hard around the length of his cock.
“D-Don’t stop … keep going, please,” Louis utters brokenly with a backward glance. His eyes are wild and red-rimmed and there is sweat beading between his shoulderblades. Zayn swears softly when Niall resumes his brutal pace and chases his own orgasm. Louis is making loud, hiccoughing sounds now and his hold on Harry’s hand verges on painful. Liam runs his hands up and down his sides and makes soothing nonsensical sounds like he would to a baby or a kitten, and Harry can almost imagine him Louis as one, so helpless and sapped of strength he is, letting Liam hold him up as Niall pounds into him.
Louis moans weakly when Niall thrusts into him one last time and comes with a colorful swear. He is so full up with come that it leaks out in dribbles of white when Niall pulls out. Harry has to help heave him off Liam because his arms shake and give out each time he tries to hold up his own weight. Louis rolls weakly onto his back with a groan and lets his legs fall open.
“Wow, look at you, Lou, you’re so wet,” Zayn says, staring unabashedly.
“Your turn, Hazza,” Louis murmurs. “Sorry, I’m a bit of a mess.”
“No, you’re beautiful. Always beautiful,” Harry says, awed. He touches Louis’s hole delicately, marveling at how puffy and fucked open he is, how easily his fingers slip into the mess of lube and semen. Louis makes a needy sound, pushes his hand away and grabs for his cock instead. Harry slides into him easily, he’s so wet and fucked open, sinks into him until he bottoms out and bites his lip raw at how good Louis feels, slick and hot and pulsing all around his cock. Louis clings to Harry’s biceps, trembles from overstimulation, and just lies back and takes it.
Harry withdraws slowly and when he pushes back in, there is a wet, squishy sound and some of the semen inside oozes out alongside his cock and somehow the sight of that makes Harry’s cock harden even more, if that were possible.
“You okay, babe?” he asks Louis, whose eyes are screwed shut and who whines weakly each time Harry grazes his prostate.
Louis opens watery blue eyes and focuses on Harry. “Hurts a little, but g-good.”
Zayn kneels behind Louis’s head, grabs hold of his hand and pins them cruelly to the bed above his head. Louis thrashes a bit, loathe to be held down and out of control even though he barely has the strength to fight back (and he’s not as strong as Zayn anyway, even if he hadn’t already come twice in one night). So Louis can only stare Harry down with glazed-over eyes, looking so vulnerable and helpless and beautifully wrecked that it makes Harry fuck into him harder, dizzy with the knowledge that he contributed to Louis’s undoing.
“Can you get hard again?” Harry asks.
“Oh, oh, I-I don’t know, maybe, fuck,” Louis slurs.
“I want you to get hard again. Can you do that? For me?” Harry ducks down to tongue Louis’s nipple and feels the other boy squirm.
“I dunno … I’ll try, oh, please, Harry, please …” Harry is not sure what Louis is pleading for, but he’s never seen him this way, so submissive and pliant and eager to please. A frisson of pleasure runs down his spine and he forces himself to slow down and make sure he grazes Louis’s prostate on each inward thrust. Louis whimpers, high-pitched and needy, the only sound in the room whose atmosphere has become curiously intense and charged for the final stretch. Harry can see that Zayn is hard again, but he doesn’t touch himself, mesmerized by the hypnotic in-out of Harry’s cock in Louis’s arse.
Harry continues the slow tempo and refuses to be overcome by how achingly good Louis feels around him, so focused is he on making this good for Louis. He exults when he feels Louis’s cock twitch against his stomach and bends down to kiss those parted, pink lips as a reward. He can feel Louis murmur a string of words against mouth - HarryandZaynandLiamandNiallohpleaseyesGod - and it has a terrible effect on his self-control. He slams his hips in a little too hard and Louis releases a startled “ah!”
“C’mon, don’t hold back, Hazza,” he begs, “Fuck me hard, give me everything you’ve got, please …”
Harry’s resolve crumbles and he gives up trying to be gentle. He hooks Louis’s legs over his shoulders, folds him almost in half, and pounds away at his arse. Louis cries out repeatedly, the veins in his neck and arms stand out as he strains ineffectually against Zayn’s steely hold.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Liam mutters, and Harry thinks for a moment that he has never heard Liam swear, before Louis is clenching down on him so wonderfully that his orgasm is ripped out of his body. He gives one final, deep thrust and holds himself there, buried inside Louis.
“Louis, Louis, Louis,” he murmurs, surrounded by the touch and smell of the other boy. When he pulls back, the smile on Louis’s face is blinding.
“Now I’ve got all of you inside me,” he says blissfully, looking so damn happy as he rubs the come leaking out of his arse into the tender skin of his thighs, raising his legs so that they can all see the mess between them in glorious detail.
“So pretty —”
“Fucking gorgeous, Lou —”
They fall upon him with hands and lips that pet and kiss and lavish praise and Louis arches, feline-like, soaking up the attention. He is still hard, lips parting on a sigh as Liam takes him in his hand to wring one last orgasm from him. Zayn bends over, kisses his open mouth upside down and swallows the soft, almost pained mewls that fall from his lips.
“Come, Lou, come for us,” he coaxes.
When Louis comes a third time, his orgasm is dry and his cry is broken and hoarse.
Afterwards, all five of them squeeze into the shower and take turns under the spray. The four of them form a circle around Louis so that there are hands to hold him up, shoulders for him to lean on and mouths for him to kiss every way he turns. They clean each other up, traipse back to the bed and tumble onto it lengthwise in a tangle of gangly arms and legs that stick out the edge. Liam was right - the five of them wouldn’t fit into Louis’s bed, but somehow they make do, melting into each other’s space even more than usual. Louis lies in the center and looks small and dwarfed with their arms slung over him protectively.
“I love you,” he sighs happily, “I love you so much.”
There is a collective sigh and they all burrow a little closer together under the blanket of Louis’s sleepy declaration. Harry sneaks a peek at Louis’s face before he closes his eyes and sees the other boy’s lips curled in a secret smile. Whatever awkwardness and strain there might be in the morning between the five of them, they will deal with it, but for now, they are content to breathe each other’s air and exist in a world all their own.