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Harry finds them while rifling through the contents of Nick’s bathroom cabinet drawers for lube. Apparently, they’re out. What he finds in his search instead makes his breath hitch and his cock stir in interest.
They’re thrown haphazardly in an open bag in the bottom drawer. The matte gold tubes shine in stark contrast to the black interior of the bag. He picks one up, turning it over in his hand to read the color code on the bottom of the tube – 890: Trollop Red. He picks another at random – 900: a bright purple named Hot Plum. The next one is Powder Pink and he looks up to the bathroom mirror to see his cheeks matching the shade of lipstick in his hand. He can’t help but palm himself through his briefs.
“Find anything yet? Look for Vaseline or somethin’.”
Harry jumps at Nick’s voice and drops the lipstick. It clatters to the floor, making a spectacular racket against the tile.
“You all right, love?” Nick calls out.
Harry tries to say “yes” but the word gets stuck in his throat. He comes out of the bathroom instead, closing the door behind him as if he could lock his thoughts in with the bloody lipstick.
Nick’s eyes follow his dick back into the room. Harry is still hard and can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. Nick’s lying back on the bed, propped against the headboard, thin sheet pulled over his decidedly not hard dick.
“You’re still… well. I’m quite impressed, Harold,” Nick’s eyes flicker up to Harry’s.
He gives an aborted little laugh at the comment and avoids Nick’s eyes as he climbs back into bed and settles next to him. He chances a quick glance at him to see Nick looking at him curiously.
“What’s happened to you?” Nick asks. “You look flushed.”
Harry shakes his head, “Couldn’t, um, couldn’t find lube. Or Vaseline.”
Nick doesn’t look convinced, but drops it. “Spit dries too quick – or, wait, found some chapstick in the side table. How much do you think you’d need to take me?”
Harry’s eyes go wide. “I haven’t – we haven’t… in a while, so I don’t think – probably need, um, more than –” He bites his lips in frustration; the lipstick has him flustered, unable to concentrate on anything but the erection still straining his pants. He pulls the comforter over his lap, staring down at his hands and fidgeting.
Nick stills his hands, takes them in his, “I was only joking, Haz. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Harry waves him off. “M’fine, yeah. Can I, um, can I suck you off? We’ll get lube tomorrow, I just – I want to suck you off. Haven’t in ages.”
Nick’s still looking at him curiously and Harry knows it’s not because he’s asked to give him a blowjob; Harry loves blowing Nick, that’s no surprise. No, it’s because Harry is still fidgeting and his cheeks are still burning pink.
Nick is quiet for so long that Harry looks up.
“You don’t have to,” Nick says in a measured tone. “You just got in, you’re exhausted –”
“No, I want to,” Harry interrupts him. “I want to suck you off. Please, Nick.”
“God, Harry, you sound like a proper slag.”
“Heeeeeyyy…”
Nick makes an apologetic sound at the back of his throat and rubs his thumb over Harry’s still flaming cheeks, brushing a soft kiss onto his lips. Harry closes his eyes at the sensation. He pushes the comforter off their laps and turns to straddle Nick’s legs. Nick’s hands slip under the bottom of his briefs, stretching them out so he can cup Harry’s ass and pull him close to rub their cocks together. Harry obliges, putting all his energy into rocking his hips against Nick. One of Nick’s hands slides into his hair, pulling his head back and baring his throat. Nick can’t leave any marks because God forbid Harry’s legions of tween fans see physical marks of his sex life, but he likes to suck on Harry’s throat anyway. The thin skin around Harry’s Adam’s apple is his favorite. It’s Harry’s favorite too normally, but Nick finds himself being pushed away. He looks up at Harry, more than a little confused – Harry’s being so odd tonight.
Harry’s fidgeting again and the pink blush on his cheek has returned.
“Can I ask you something?”
“No, I thought I was getting a blowjob,” Nick says, bemused. He’s a bit petulant, but he feels he’s allowed to be; he hasn’t fucked anything but his own hand in three weeks.
“You will, you will. Just – whose lipstick is all that?”
The furrow in Nick’s forehead deepens. “What lipstick?”
“In the bag? Here, I’m gonna – I’ll show you.” Harry climbs off his lap while Nick tries valiantly to stop him by clinging to his ass cheeks. Harry gently pushes his hands away.
He watches Harry go into the bathroom and return with a small, black, box shaped bag. Harry sits cross-legged in front of him and opens the zipper. He looks like he’s getting ready for one of his long, rambling stories that invariably end with Nick telling him to get to the point, love and Nick looks forlornly at his dick, which has shrunk to a semi again. Harry, miraculously, is still hard.
He fiddles with the zip and looks at Nick from beneath his lashes. “Whose are these?”
Nick wants to roll his eyes and throw the bag on the floor because who cares, but Harry’s eyes are serious, so Nick bites back the I don’t give a fuck, hop on my lap again and says instead, “Probably Aimee’s.” Then, because he can’t hold himself back, he says, “Look, is this important?”
Harry flushes red again and asks quietly, “Do you think she’d… mind someone else using them?”
Nick shrugs, “’Think she’s forgot about them, honestly. She hasn’t asked after them since she moved out.” Harry’s looking down and worrying his fingers again. Nick waits for him to say something then asks, “Why? Who wants to use them?”
Harry doesn’t say anything, just shrugs, so Nick tilts his head up with a firm grip on his chin. “Harry?”
Harry turns his head away and says, “Have you ever played the rainbow game?”
Nick blinks. Oh.
His throat is dry all of a sudden. “Once or twice, in uni.” Then, without thinking, he says, “Not a big fan.”
Harry visibly flinches.
Nick backtracks quickly, “But if that’s something you want… I wouldn’t say no.”
Harry looks up again, excitement and relief written all over his face. “Really?”
“I’m not putting it on –”
“You don’t have to!” Harry interrupts.
“– but it’s no hardship for me to lie back and get blown by you, popstar.”
“So can I…?” Harry gestures towards the mess of lipstick in the bag.
Nick nods. He won’t lie; he’s eager to see where this goes.
“I’m gonna go and –” Harry doesn’t finish the sentence, clambers off the sheets instead and heads straight for the full length mirror standing opposite Nick’s bed. Nick scoots to the end to watch Harry set the bag carefully on the edge of the bed. He picks one out and twists the bottom to get the stick out. Nick sees the bright purple color just as Harry’s putting it to his lips.
“No.”
Harry freezes, the lipstick an inch away from his lips. He looks at Nick through the mirror, meets his eyes as though waiting for instructions. This is what Nick loves best about Harry; he slips into pliancy easily, with an almost obscene kind of eagerness. It’s hard sometimes, seeing Harry flushed and malleable like this. Nick would be afraid of taking advantage, but Harry has told him – firmly – what he wants and what he doesn’t. Nick never pushes farther than that.
He holds out his hand for the tube of purple lipstick. Harry hands it over and he drops it back into the bag.
“Red first, trollop. If we’re playing the game, we’re doing it right.”
Harry nods and his hands tremble as he lifts the red tube instead. He starts at the middle of his Cupid’s bow lips and swipes the color to the right. He colors the left in the same surprisingly smooth motion, then pauses, seemingly deciding between starting his bottom lip from one corner or from the middle.
Nick gets off the bed to stand behind him, putting his hands on Harry’s slim hips. After a second’s thought, he pushes his stiffy between Harry’s ass cheeks and Harry jumps, the red smudging past the upturned corner of his bottom lip. He turns his head to look up at Nick reproachfully, but Nick gently turns his head back.
“Eyes straight ahead.”
Harry swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, and nods before looking up to meet Nick’s eyes in the mirror. Nick brings his thumb up to Harry’s lips, holding his gaze, and carefully wipes off the excess color. Harry shudders.
“Done?” Nick asks. His voice is rough with lust.
Harry nods and turns his body into Nick’s hold. “How do I look?” There’s a sudden, faint smirk playing on his lips and combined with his trollop red lips, it makes him look hotter than usual. Dirtier.
Like you should be in fishnets, Nick thinks, but says instead, “Pretty. Will I get my blowjob now?”
Harry doesn’t answer, opting to drop to his knees instead. He noses up the inside of Nick’s left thigh, careful not to touch his lips to his skin lest he smudge the red he had so carefully painted on himself. His hands cup Nick’s balls and rub the sensitive skin just behind them, before he finally – finally – reaches Nick’s cock. He doesn’t play around, gets straight down to it, swallowing nearly half his dick before stopping to take a deep breath through his nose. He’s careful not to let his lips touch Nick, keeping his jaw wide open and his tongue flat on the underside of Nick’s cock. He takes another inch before he closes his lips around Nick. Nick looks down then, watching Harry’s ruby red lips close around his painfully hard dick. He’s standing in the middle of his room with nothing to hold on to, so he slides his fingers into Harry’s hair, not pulling or clutching, just leaving them there, something to ground him and Harry both.
His touch kicks Harry into motion. He curls one hand around Nick’s left thigh, the other going up to cup Nick’s balls, before plunging his mouth straight down Nick’s dick. Nick swears and his hips buck into Harry’s mouth, leaving Harry retching and spluttering around Nick’s cock. Nick likes the tears clinging to the corner of Harry’s eyes, his wet lashes, so he does it again, watching Harry squeeze his eyes shut against the onslaught. Nick would like to keep doing this, keep fucking his mouth until he squeezes Nick’s thigh in warning, but he will let Harry have his fun tonight.
Harry takes him deep once more, nose nearly buried in the thick hair surrounding Nick’s dick, then pulls off with slick pop. Nick looks down, at the red ring around his cock, and he can’t think then why he never liked this game before. Possibly, no bloke he’s been with has ever looked as good as Harry does in lipstick. Harry’s panting, eyes wide and lips parted to show a hint of pink tongue. There’s not much color left on his lips; most of it is on Nick’s dick, and the rest is smudged around Harry’s bottom lip and past his chin. Nick has a sudden vision of Harry on his knees down some seedy alley, lips parted and looking up at Nick for further instruction just like this.
He shakes the thought away, tugs Harry up, and kisses him firmly on the mouth. He’s kissed plenty of his girlfriends to be familiar with the odd, crayon-like consistency of lipstick in his mouth, but combined with the slick feel of his own precome, it’s a different taste entirely. It’s dirtier somehow, heady, and he pulls Harry in by the back of his neck so he can probe into his mouth, eagerly tasting what Harry had minutes ago. Harry leans forward with him when he pulls off, but Nick keeps him back with one gentle hand to his chest.
“Good?” Harry asks. His eyes are glassy and he’s mumbling, and Nick knows it doesn’t take much to pull Harry under and into pliancy, but he had no idea a simple coat of lipstick would be enough.
Nick kisses him again, soft and oddly chaste under the circumstances. “Good.” Harry needs this sometimes, the reassurance.
Harry nods as if steeling himself again and reaches for the bag. Nick backtracks to sit down on the edge of the bed, and Harry kneels between his legs, bag full of lipstick in hand. Nick tugs him up by the arms, places a pillow in front of him, then pushes him down again. Harry forgets his own needs sometimes, in his eager haste for more more more, so Nick has to be careful, has to think ahead an hour from now when Harry will be pouting and moaning because his knees are bruised and aching.
He strokes the tip of his dick (doesn’t want to stroke further in case he ruins the bright ring of red around his cock) and watches Harry burrow around in the bag. He’s getting more and more frustrated, repeatedly turning over tubes to look at the bottom and discarding them for another.
Nick stills Harry’s hands with one of his, using the other to squeeze the base of his cock.
Harry looks up at him and there’s barely any green in his eyes, his pupils dilated as they are. “Nick – Nick, there’s no orange, only coral.”
“That’s all right, love, coral will do.”
Harry breathes out, deep, then lifts the tube of coral lipstick and sets the bag aside on the floor next to his knees. He knocks the tube against Nick’s hand, gently. “Will you, um, could you put it on me?”
Nick takes the lipstick in one hand and lifts Harry’s chin with the other. Harry closes his eyes as soon as the tube touches his lips, lips parted and expectant. Nick has seen Alexa put on lipstick enough times to do it well on Harry, in theory. Feeling Harry’s lips under his fingers as he drags the lipstick across is an entirely different matter though. Nick squeezes his eyes shut for a second before starting on the bottom lip; it’s hard enough to concentrate without Harry looking up at him with eyes wide and trusting.
Nick leans back when he’s done, just looks at Harry for a minute. He makes a pretty picture, on his knees in nothing but tight, black briefs and bright pink lipstick. He strokes the tip of his cock again and Harry makes an eager sound in the back of his throat, reaches out before remembering himself and pulling his hand back.
“Nick, please, I –”
Nick pulls Harry in with a light caress of his cheek, “Go on, babe, do what you like.”
Harry licks a broad stripe up his own hand, gives the tip of Nick’s dick a short stroke before slowly swallowing him down. His lips meet Nick’s dick an inch above the red ring made by the last lipstick. It’s heavenly, the feel of his lips, the tight, wet heat. Nick has a vague idea that this is what pussy feels like, and he can almost understand why Harry likes girls too.
Nick watches in fascination as Harry’s mouth leaves streaks of bright color leading from the original ring of coral on his cock all the way to the head as he bobs his head at increasing speed, tongue flat along the base of his dick. Harry slips a hand down to cup his own cock through his briefs, moaning out loud at the slight relief before opening his eyes to look at Nick through his lashes. His hand hovers uncertainly above his dick for a moment, his eyes questioning, and Nick shrugs as if to say, do what you want. They’re not playing that game tonight.
Harry moans again, hand slipping past his waistband as he strokes his dick hard and fast, trying to match the rhythm of his hand to that of his mouth. He gets caught up in the sensations for a bit, forgets about Nick in his mouth, so Nick pumps his hips once, twice as a reminder, which has Harry doubling his efforts.
Nick loves him, honestly.
He takes the same care in putting the blue lipstick on Harry (“Why does she even have blue lipstick?” Harry asks. “Orange hair, probs,” Nick says by way of explanation before taking Harry’s chin back in his hand to apply said blue lipstick.) and by the time they get to the Hot Plum color, Nick’s dick is a mess of dark red and bright pink and electric blue, and streaked with his precome. His cock is blue to the end, so Nick pulls Harry in by his curls and rubs his cock against Harry’s lips.
“Lick, I want a nice purple color on top.”
Harry gets to it straight sway, licking around the head, hand slipping past Nick’s balls to stroke the thin skin behind his balls. He holds up Nick’s dick with one hand and licks the underside, thoroughly washing away the excess blue – doesn’t complain about the taste of lipstick once like Nick would have. Nick hasn’t really appreciated until now just how much Harry wanted this.
Harry’s lips look even more fuckable in Hot Plum and even though he’s just taking the first few inches in in an effort to preserve the earlier colors, Nick is nearer to coming than he has been all night. He can’t control himself, it seems, and gives up all pretense of letting Harry set the pace in favor of fucking into his mouth fast and shallow. His eyes are half closed in pleasure and through the haze he sees Harry’s cock hanging out of his briefs and Harry jerking himself, hot and rough and dry.
He tugs Harry’s hair to get him further down his dick and chokes out, “Gonna come, Harold, where do want it.”
Harry pulls off, voice raspy, “My – I think – yeah, on my face.”
Nick pulls Harry’s mouth down on his dick again and Harry feels so good – so, so good. He tells Harry as much, keeping up a constant stream of such a good boy for me, yeah, so hot, so fucking hot, wet tight mouth, such a good boy before he lets Harry’s lips slip off his dick. He pumps his cock hard and fast, aiming for Harry’s lips and let’s go with a long groan. Harry stays still while Nick comes in short streaks across his face, only his hand moving as he strokes his cock in time with Nick’s spurts.
He pouts a little when one short burst hits him near the eye, and it makes him look all the more obscene. His mouth is smudged red and pink and purple and Nick’s come only serves to highlight the colors and his pillowy lips, fucked raw and red.
Harry licks around his mouth as much as he can, then picks up the bit of come near his eye, which has slipped to his cheek by now, and licks his finger clean. Nick groans at the vision and pulls at Harry. He gets up on shaky legs, his knees surely numb and cramped from being in the same position for so long. He sits down next to Nick, trembling slightly, and Nick pulls him in, lets him hide his come-soaked face in the sweaty crook of his neck.
“Nick, I need to – Nick, please, ‘m so hard, it hurts.” Harry’s voice is even deeper than usual, hoarse, but it only makes him sound needier, more like he needs to be taken care of.
Nick rubs a hand down Harry’s back and soothes, “’Course, love, I’ve got you. Need you to stand up, yeah? Wanna swallow you; want you to come in my mouth. C’mon, there’s a lad.”
Harry’s knees knock together as he stands up, so Nick steadies him with a firm hand to his hip, rubbing soft circles there. He’s not sure how much of his touch Harry is registering, but he helps Harry get himself off, adds his hand to Harry’s on his dick, controlling the pace of his strokes and squeezing at the tip to spread his precome around. Harry likes it rough and dry and dirty, but he’s been so hard for so long, Nick doesn’t want him to burn afterwards. It doesn’t take long for Harry’s hips to start jerking forward; he’s not even moving his hand under Nick’s anymore, just fucking into Nick’s fist and Nick makes sure to vary the pressure a bit, thumb the head sometimes and flick his slit. Harry moans out loud on the third flick and loses all rhythm.
“Nick, I’m think I’m gonna – definitely gonna come. Please, just a bit more, yeah –”
Harry’s last word turns into a long, drawn moan when Nick wraps his lips around his teeth and goes down on his dick, cheeks hollowed for maximum heat and suction. Harry comes down his throat, hand flying to Nick’s shoulder. He squeezes hard, curling in on himself, the very picture of overwhelmed. Nick laps at his dick until Harry squirms off and collapses next to him. Nick slips his arms around him, gently tilting him back on the bed. Harry curls into him, burying his face in Nick’s shoulder. His face is still covered in Nick’s come and it should be disgusting, but Nick’s glad it’s not.
Once Harry’s breathing evens and he unfurls from against Nick’s body, he gets up quietly, despite Harry’s protests, to fetch a small face towel from the bathroom. He wets it with warm water, then carefully wipes Harry’s face. Harry very nearly purrs at the attention and murmurs a soft thanks against his lips when Nick kisses him.
Harry watches Nick wipe the color off his cock, yawns, and says, “Should’ve taken a photo.”
Nick throws the towel in the floor and lies down, his arm around Harry. “Maybe next time, popstar.”
He hears a sharp intake of breath from the left of him, a short pause, then, “Next time?”
Nick presses a kiss to Harry’s temple, “We’ll see if Aimee left some eyeliner behind for you to borrow.”
And, well, if Harry’s happy sigh makes Nick’s heart actually skip a beat, no one’s to know.