Round 3

[1dkinkmods]

ROUND THREE

closing at 5000 comments

WHEN FILLING... please remember to put [FILL] in the subject line. 
ex: Prompt: Harry/Louis, BDSM
Fill: [FILL] [optional title here] Harry/Louis, BDSM
Fills can be anything: fics, art (with the exception of underage fills), fanmixes, etc.
Fills must be posted publicly. Do not link to a locked entry. 
Warn for triggers

Comments

Re Harry/Zayn FILL 1/2

[amourperdu_s]

hope this is what you wanted, it's also over at my LJ. I don't usually do kink but hey ho...

title: The perks of being a flower

Zayn squirms underneath, it’s not that Harry’s heavy above him, it’s not that he’s uncomfortable or restless or impatient; it’s just the concept itself, of Harry above him, on top, rippling with strength and testosterone. Harry’s hair is still wet from the shower and his fingers slide strands from his face before attaching themselves to Zayn’s neck, just pulling and pinching at the skin and the wetness of the sensation.

Zayn shifts again, he needs to feel present, to feel embodied and solid instead of feeling so tiny and breakable. Sight alone confirmed Zayn’s physical disadvantage. He was smaller, thinner and his bones curved out where Harry’s muscles pulsated and the height thing was always an issue when Zayn was deficient in so many inches, even with the quiff and the thick-soled trainers. So naturally, in bed, size translated to sex and Zayn was so painfully aware of it. The way Harry would reach down to comb a lock of hair from Zayn’s face as he delved inside him, the way Harry placed paper-light kisses down Zayn’s collarbone as he slumped over him and spilled out onto his stomach, even the way Zayn found himself reaching up for kisses right after the climax, like a sensitive, delicate flower.

He gritted his teeth. He wasn’t a flower, he assured himself, he was not a fucking flower.

But…maybe he could make an exception, just for tonight of course, because Harry’s detangled himself from Zayn’s torso, and slid backwards to tug Zayn’s legs open. Eyes are locked at all points but Harry doesn’t need to look anymore; it’s clockwork and Zayn is opening himself up like a bud and letting Harry’s fingers travel in, the sick feeling of lube sliding and testing his entrance is mind numbing and his body dissolves into the mattress.

“Harry”, he moans, writhing and pulling at the cotton sheets and Harry knows what Zayn wants but he waits for a minute, maybe two, to satisfy himself with the groans of desperation spilling from Zayn’s mouth. He wants to be filled and no feeling has ever amounted to this blinding and agonizing need to be overflowing with Harry.

“Ready?”, Harry whispers and Zayn's insides are choking, begging himself to stay quiet, 'be passive Zayn and let it ride because it's you who'll lose out when Harry changes his mind and decides that sleep trumps sex after all'. But if there's anytime to bring this up, he knows it's going to be some time like this.
So just as Harry is circling himself around Zayn's hole, hard and raging and ready to enter, his eyes all glazed over with anticipation and lust, Zayn reaches a hard out into the darkness.

"No wa-wa-wait", he wriggles away a little, "why don't we change things up tonight, why don't I go on top?".
Harry stares for a moment as if waiting for the punch line, then softens, pouting his lips and lining Zayn's hip bone with his fingers.

"Babe, look at you, 'cause you're so small", Harry says and reverts his attention back, aligning himself speedily with Zayn's entrance once again, hungry with his want for it now he's come so close.