[Fill] Go Fuck Yourself (2/?) (past!Harry/present!Harry) WARNINGS FOR NONCON, SELFCEST, AND UNDERAGE
anonymous
December 3 2012, 04:44:51 UTC
Harry pointedly avoids that area of the stage for the rest of the show. He hits all his notes and manages some convincing affection with the boys, but he's not himself and Liam gives him worried looks later in the dressing room.
Harry can't bring himself to meet his eyes. He's not his usual giddy, post-show self and they all must notice. Liam's just the only one who will say anything about it. They're his best mates and they know him better than anyone. He feels a rush of guilt at keeping secrets from them, but he just can't outright tell them.
As they're leaving the venue, Liam drags Harry aside and fixes him with A Look. “All right, Haz?” It's a leading question, surely. The tone is the one Liam uses when he's getting ready to nag them into confession.
“Brilliant, Li.”
“Harry,” his eyes grow wide and pleading, “please let me help.” Harry's not sure why everyone thinks Liam is the polite one. Using puppy eyes was decidedly impolite.
“Just let it go, Liam,” he sighs and shoves him away. The older boy relents with a promise to discuss it tomorrow and they go to greet their fans. Harry fingers the spare keycard in his pocket and sighs as he realizes he's in no mood to slip it into the pocket of some shaggable bloke.
He's still brushing his thumb against the edge of the plastic when they pile into the van an hour later. He's in his hotel room before long-prepared to spend the night alone-and Harry thinks that he's never been more grateful to get the solo room. And Harry's pulled a lot of attractive lads on this tour with the privacy of his own hotel room.
He opts to strip down and climb between the sheets the moment the door closes behind him. He shuts off his phone and thinks for a moment before getting up to lock the door adjoining his room to Louis and Liam's. He doesn't want to talk about it. He wishes he weren't even thinking about it, but he's powerless against the onslaught of memories that poster brought up.
====================
Despite what SugarScape will have you believe, Harry Styles was not born with an erection. He'd barely thought about sex until he was sixteen, really. He knew he wasn't attracted to girls quite early and the boys at his school were exceptionally homophobic, so he just... didn't have sex. He wanked as often as he could without chafing, but he didn't find anyone he could share his orgasms with until he met Danny.
Daniel James was eighteen when he moved to Cheshire and he was exceedingly proud of his limp wrists. He was surrounded by giggling girls on his first day and the whispers in the halls indicated that he was every female's new gay best friend. He was the only out boy Harry had ever met and he wasn't much to look at but he was something and Harry was a goner from the start. He immediately inserted himself in Danny's life, idolizing the lad to an embarrassing degree.
The two had fallen into a kind of friendship and were quickly developing into something more when Harry invited Danny to sleep over after a party, not trusting the older boy to drive, and offered him half of his childhood bed to sleep in.
The younger boy was shocked that night when cold hands wrapped around his hips and pulled him into a boozy kiss. His first kiss with-and his current self cringed at how naïve he was-who he thought would be his first boyfriend. The smell of weed in Danny's jumper was pushed to the back of his mind as Harry jumped on him, shoving his tongue down his throat until he was heady with it.
They stripped down to their boxers and Harry was so excited. They were going to wank together! This would be like live porn! The thought made his head swim and he couldn't help grinding his hips up into Danny's bulge and moaning happily at the friction. But Danny had no intention of just rubbing out a quick one with Harry and pushed him down into the mattress.
The look in Danny's eyes was predatory as he pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his discarded jeans.
Harry can't bring himself to meet his eyes. He's not his usual giddy, post-show self and they all must notice. Liam's just the only one who will say anything about it. They're his best mates and they know him better than anyone. He feels a rush of guilt at keeping secrets from them, but he just can't outright tell them.
As they're leaving the venue, Liam drags Harry aside and fixes him with A Look. “All right, Haz?” It's a leading question, surely. The tone is the one Liam uses when he's getting ready to nag them into confession.
“Brilliant, Li.”
“Harry,” his eyes grow wide and pleading, “please let me help.” Harry's not sure why everyone thinks Liam is the polite one. Using puppy eyes was decidedly impolite.
“Just let it go, Liam,” he sighs and shoves him away. The older boy relents with a promise to discuss it tomorrow and they go to greet their fans. Harry fingers the spare keycard in his pocket and sighs as he realizes he's in no mood to slip it into the pocket of some shaggable bloke.
He's still brushing his thumb against the edge of the plastic when they pile into the van an hour later. He's in his hotel room before long-prepared to spend the night alone-and Harry thinks that he's never been more grateful to get the solo room. And Harry's pulled a lot of attractive lads on this tour with the privacy of his own hotel room.
He opts to strip down and climb between the sheets the moment the door closes behind him. He shuts off his phone and thinks for a moment before getting up to lock the door adjoining his room to Louis and Liam's. He doesn't want to talk about it. He wishes he weren't even thinking about it, but he's powerless against the onslaught of memories that poster brought up.
====================
Despite what SugarScape will have you believe, Harry Styles was not born with an erection. He'd barely thought about sex until he was sixteen, really. He knew he wasn't attracted to girls quite early and the boys at his school were exceptionally homophobic, so he just... didn't have sex. He wanked as often as he could without chafing, but he didn't find anyone he could share his orgasms with until he met Danny.
Daniel James was eighteen when he moved to Cheshire and he was exceedingly proud of his limp wrists. He was surrounded by giggling girls on his first day and the whispers in the halls indicated that he was every female's new gay best friend. He was the only out boy Harry had ever met and he wasn't much to look at but he was something and Harry was a goner from the start. He immediately inserted himself in Danny's life, idolizing the lad to an embarrassing degree.
The two had fallen into a kind of friendship and were quickly developing into something more when Harry invited Danny to sleep over after a party, not trusting the older boy to drive, and offered him half of his childhood bed to sleep in.
The younger boy was shocked that night when cold hands wrapped around his hips and pulled him into a boozy kiss. His first kiss with-and his current self cringed at how naïve he was-who he thought would be his first boyfriend. The smell of weed in Danny's jumper was pushed to the back of his mind as Harry jumped on him, shoving his tongue down his throat until he was heady with it.
They stripped down to their boxers and Harry was so excited. They were going to wank together! This would be like live porn! The thought made his head swim and he couldn't help grinding his hips up into Danny's bulge and moaning happily at the friction. But Danny had no intention of just rubbing out a quick one with Harry and pushed him down into the mattress.
The look in Danny's eyes was predatory as he pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his discarded jeans.
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