merdub
in
1dkinkmeme
The Kink Meme
Round 1
IS CLOSED
ALL NEW PROMPTS MUST BE MADE IN
ROUND 3
delicious / flat view
Rules?
- Keep the fourth wall intact! DO NOT tweet, email, carrier pigeon or use any other form of communication to send a link to this community or any of the fic posted here to any member of One Direction, their family, friends, or anyone in their organization. This is ( Read more... )
It's quiet in the room, the only sounds are Harry's steady breathing from the second bed and the occasional scurry of footsteps down the corridor outside, as yet another group of girls get chased away by the rent-a-bruiser on ever vigilant duty.
Niall sighs and rolls onto his back, staring up through the darkness. He's convinced he's been trying to sleep for at least three hours, although in reality it's been about twenty minutes. Harry seemed to have fallen asleep as soon as the light went out, but now frustration at lying awake is feeding Niall's paranoia. What if Harry was only pretending, so he didn't have to talk to him? What if Harry resented having to take a turn sharing with him? He'd obviously rather have been with Louis.
He chews at his lower lip and wriggles back onto his front restlessly. Peers over at the duvet-covered hump that is Harry and sighs again, louder this time, hoping vainly that Harry is awake after all and will ask him what's wrong.
A minute passes and Niall turns his pillow over, seeking cool linen. He feels hot and itchy and irritable.
The thought crosses his mind that the best thing to settle him and send him to sleep would be a bloody good wank, but he can hardly do that while Harry's in the room.
Another minute passes and Niall's now even wider awake than before. Now he's thought it, the idea won't leave him alone. It's not so much the fear of being caught at it that gives him pause - a recent memory of jerking off all too loudly at the same time as Louis flashes across his mind, and he grins. No, it's the guilty knowledge that it would be Harry he was picturing while he was doing it. (And he's fairly sure Louis never guessed that.)
Niall thinks he's been careful enough that Harry doesn't have a clue about the way he feels. It's tiring though, being constantly on his guard, never letting too much show, and sometimes things slip out before he can catch himself - a look, a word, a gesture. Slips that would be risky if not for the fact that Harry only had eyes for Louis and was too bloody blinkered to notice anyone else.
Frustration and simmering resentment coil in Niall's stomach and he feels himself getting hard. He's been trying not to think about Harry in that way, about the fact he's lying just feet away, probably stark naked as usual, because Harry's his friend, and it's not fair, but apparently anger is just as good in terms of arousing him, and surely that's not right?
Niall throws off the oppressive heat of the duvet and after a moment's consideration strips off his t-shirt too and throws it to the floor. He rubs a hand down the front of his shorts, palming his growing bulge through the cloth and giving in to thoughts of Harry for an indulgent minute or so.
It's no good. His imagination is no match for the fact that the real thing is sleeping almost within arm's reach and he can't get off. Feeling sweaty and uncomfortable, Niall sits up and swings his legs out of bed, wincing as the springs protest. He pads across the short expanse of carpet to the other bed, and looks down at the sleeping Harry.
Harry's lying on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, lips slightly parted. Niall's cock lurches at the sight, and the mental images it produces. He licks his own lips, suddenly dry, and resists the urge to cough. Waking Harry now would involve a lot of explaining.
The bed isn't large, but Harry's left a lot of room, curled back almost against the wall, and Niall has a moment of clarity that stabs him like a knife. Clearly, when Harry and Louis are sharing, it's more than just the room.
Before he knows what he's really doing, Niall has seized the duvet and ripped it back like a man attempting a magic trick with a tablecloth. His heart leaps into his mouth, but the magic in this case appears to have worked because Harry squirms slightly but doesn't wake.
Niall is left staring down at him in slight disbelief. Harry is sleeping naked.
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It's the work of a second for Niall to slide his shorts down and step out of them, erection straining up against his belly. Not letting himself think about what he's doing, he lowers himself to the bed beside Harry, wincing as the mattress dips and Harry rolls towards him.
Harry's arm is resting against his side now, and it's only his arm but the touch of warm skin against Niall's hip makes him almost dizzy with sheer want. He slips his hand down and wraps shaking fingers around his cock, stroking himself quickly, but it's not enough and, worse, the movement is making Harry murmur in his sleep.
Niall forces himself to move his hand away, despite the throbbing insistency of his groin. He needs to stop this, now, before Harry wakes up, before he destroys everything. He sits up gingerly and is about to climb back out of the bed when he notices something that makes his heart thump painfully in his chest.
Despite the fact he's still deeply asleep, Harry's getting hard.
Niall shoots him a sharply jealous look, wondering who he's dreaming of. Then it occurs to him. It was his presence, his warmth in the bed next to Harry that prompted this. So let Harry dream of who he likes, this was down to him.
He shifts along the bed until he's leaning over Harry's legs, curled against him. The pressure doesn't disturb the sleeping boy, in fact he just moans softly and shifts unconsciously closer to Niall.
Niall swallows his own groan before it escapes and leans closer, huffing warm breath over Harry's swelling cock and watching in fascination as it slowly stiffens before his eyes.
He wonders if he dares. Flicks a glance up to check Harry is still fast asleep. Is this wrong? Niall wonders. It's not like he'd be hurting him. And if he never finds out...
Niall dips his head and slides his mouth carefully over Harry's half-hard cock. He makes sure his mouth is wet and slick as he takes in the head, drawing his lips over hot skin and feeling Harry swell in his mouth.
He's painfully hard himself, can feel stickiness smeared on his stomach and a sensation like seasickness lurching inside him that he decides is arousal but could quite well be guilt. The taste of Harry on his tongue makes him suck instinctively harder until a wordless mumble makes him freeze, suddenly aware of what he's doing. Chances are if Harry comes, he'll wake up.
Niall draws back, pumping himself hard now, helpless to resist the urge any longer. He bites his lip hard, trying to control himself. He's still kneeling on the bed, looking down at Harry, who's muttering in his sleep, dangerously close to waking. Niall holds his breath, hand clamped motionless on his cock, until Harry settles again.
Niall allows himself one last, lingering look at Harry, from his sinfully parted lips down his body to where his cock is still sticking up from the dark curls of hair at his groin, legs slightly splayed. Niall's hand is moving again as if of its own accord, wet skin slipping beneath his fingers, and before he can move away all of a sudden it's too late and he comes violently hard over Harry's groin.
Desperately trying to stem the evidence with his hand, all he succeeds in doing is getting it all over his fingers as well, and nothing is ever going to be able to hide the fact that Harry - mercifully still asleep - has got Niall's spunk spattered all over his dick and stomach.
Niall half-climbs, half-falls backwards off the bed, feeling sick. There's no way he can clean it off without waking Harry. And there is no way he can explain it, full stop.
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"Shit," he swears, under his breath. "Fuck."
Shivering in horror, a desperate idea nudges at him. He leans forward, scared as hell that Harry might pick this moment of all of them to wake up, grasps the edge of the duvet piled around Harry's feet, and draws it carefully back over him.
Mission accomplished, he crawls miserably back into his own cold bed and pulls the covers tight around him, feigning sleep just in case.
The only hope he has left now, is that when Harry finally wakes, he will believe he did it himself, that the mess on his stomach and thighs is nothing more than the embarrassing result of a forgotten wet dream. The alternative, after all, will surely be unthinkable.
Niall lies awake for a long time. And wonders when he'll next get to share with Harry again.
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