"Dirty Harry", Prince William/Prince Harry, NC-17
Title: Dirty Harry
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Prince William/Prince Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, real person slash.
Summary: William can't resist Harry when he's all muddy and sweaty after a football game, and Harry has a sneaking suspicion it's got something to do with the striped kneesocks he wears when he plays.
A/N: Hee, title. I couldn't help it. But yeah, this is kind of for klepto_malfoy because we had a discussion about it a while ago. :D
It's the socks. Harry knows it's got to have something to do with the socks because for the rest of the time, William can control himself. One minute he'll be lecturing Harry on 'family values' and 'public image' and saying things like "Seriously, Harry, can't you see that it's wrong?" and the next minute he'll be on his knees sucking on Harry's cock like his life depends on it.
And it's always after a game. Football, rugby, anything. Anything, that is, as long as it requires Harry to wear striped kneesocks.
It didn't take long for him to work it out, though William still obviously believes he's been really subtle about the whole thing. The fact that it's always after a game-immediately after, before he's had a chance to change or shower-is hard to ignore, for one thing. And there's something about the way William acts, so desperate, dragging Harry off to the nearest room or closet, locking the door if he can or shoving things in front of it if he can't, behaving as though he has to have him right there, right then, or it'll be the end of the world.
And he never lets Harry take the socks off. He'll tear off his shirt, yank down his shorts, sure. But the socks always stay on. Harry experimented with it, when he first became suspicious. He'd move to peel one off, and William would distract him with a sudden, passionate kiss, or even just bat his hand away. One time, William managed to get him completely naked apart from the socks. That was when Harry worked it out-it was hard not to, after that.
It's never long, though, before William takes Harry aside and says they need to have a Talk about their Situation. As though Harry's the one who's initiating it, the one who just can't keep his hands off his brother. It's kind of amusing, really, even though Harry can tell how hard William's trying, saying it's 'wrong' and 'disgusting' and "What would Mum think of us?" He's only trying to convince himself, and it never lasts longer than a week.
At first Harry believed him, of course. And he was furious. It didn't make any sense, for William to suddenly insist they 'put an end to this'. And when he kept coming back, it made things even worse. How could he mess Harry around like that? Acting like he was the only thing in the world he wanted, and then suddenly turning around and saying they could never touch each other again?
But the Talks have just become less and less effective. It's difficult to take William seriously when he knows how things are going to end up. So William's started saying things like "I'm not sure you understand what I'm saying, Harry," and looking all concerned, and every time, Harry just nods solemnly, pats his brother on the back and says "I understand, Wills. Never again."
Because of course, it's all utter nonsense. William is obviously trying his hardest, but in the end he can't help himself. Like this time. Harry's on his way upstairs after a football game, splattered head-to-toe with mud, and William appears out of nowhere and drags him off to the bathroom, pushing him against the wall and kissing him hard like their last Talk never even happened.
Harry can't for the life of him work out why William wants him when he's so dirty. William's the kind of guy who likes things clean, so why would he want to be so close to Harry-suck him, sometimes even fuck him-when he's all muddy and sweaty? It really doesn't make a lot of sense. Right now, William's dressed in a button-down shirt and pressed white trousers, soft and spotless and smelling like fabric conditioner and aftershave. And he steps back, looks Harry up and down, and then lunges forward, pushing his face into the place where Harry's neck meets his shoulder; inhaling.
His hands travel down Harry's body, slipping underneath his football shirt and running over his stomach and chest, fingers circling his nipples. He finally pulls away from the grubby fabric of Harry's shirt and kisses him again, almost savagely, lips sliding against each other, hot and smooth and frantic. Sometimes Harry plays up, and today he wants to, so he pulls away a little and pipes up, "But Wills...I thought you said we couldn't?"
William looks momentarily annoyed, but then he just says "One last time, Harry, just one last time," and crushes their mouths together again, his actions contradicting his words and letting Harry know that there will never be a real 'last time'.
And then William sinks down onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor and, letting out a shaky breath, runs his hands over Harry's shins. He looks up at his brother and says fondly, "You idiot, they don't even match," and Harry thinks I know, I did that for you, because he knows William loves it even if he'd rather die than say so. William toys with the top of one of the socks, obviously trying to make Harry think he's considering taking it off. But then moves his hand upwards, probably hoping Harry will think he just decided he couldn't be bothered.
Harry's got a bandage round his knee from a particularly nasty scrape he got during the game earlier, and William's hand over it sends a little shock of pain through his body. He winces, and William breathes "Sorry," and his hand travels further up Harry's leg, smooth and warm against his brother's mud-stained thigh. He places his hand over Harry's crotch and Harry doesn't even bother acting embarrassed that he's already hard-William should expect nothing less by this time.
The shorts and boxers are pulled down quickly, pooled around Harry's ankles, and William barely even gives Harry's cock a second look before he takes it into his mouth, down his throat, making Harry wish he wasn't always pressed up against a wall when this happens so he could have something to grab hold of. He goes for William's shoulder, digging in his fingernails as his brother sucks him hard, lips strained tight and working their way up and down his shaft.
He feels tickling at his shin and he looks down to see William's fingers hooked into the top of his left sock, curling and twisting in the dirty fabric, pulling at it almost violently. William opens his eyes and looks up, realising he's been watched, and he lets go, steadying his hand on Harry's hip instead. Maybe attempting to distract him, he teases the slit of Harry's cock with his tongue, making his brother claw at the wallpaper and stifle a moan against his hand.
There's something really incredible about these moments, something undeniably sexy about the way William acts, so fierce and out-of-control. Any more and it'd be scary, but as it is, Harry kind of likes it, likes to feel so wanted, even if he doesn't fully understand the way William's mind works. He thinks he probably never will, so maybe it's not worth trying. And the way it's going at the moment really isn't all that bad.
He looks down again and sees that William has undone his own trousers now and is fisting his cock quickly as he sucks Harry's, hand wrapped tight around himself, tugging and pulling. Harry's body tenses at the sight and he knows he's close. He bites his lip and grabs hold of William's hand where it's curled round his hip, spluttering out "Wills-Wills-" as he comes hard down his brother's throat.
He sinks down onto the floor, his whole body aching and feeling even dirtier and sweatier than before. He watches William finish himself off, watches him scrunch his eyes shut, and stroke and rub his cock until he comes, spurting over his hand. He gets to his feet almost immediately, rinsing off his hands in the sink, and Harry fights back a smile at the fact that William all of a sudden seems to care about being clean again.
William dries his hands on a towel and Harry looks up at him. "I'm going to have a shower," he says, then hesitates, thinking no, I can't, I really can't say it but he does it anyway. "And, er, Wills?" he says tentatively. "What is it, exactly, about the socks?"
William colours slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says as he heads for the door, unlocking it and opening it before stepping out into the hallway. "Are you free later tonight, by the way? Because I think maybe we should have a little talk, you know, about all of this."
Once again Harry tries not to smile. "Yes..." he says, nodding sadly. "I guess I can fit that in."
William nods back, gravely, and shuts the door behind him.
Ah well, Harry thinks as he sits on the edge of the bath, peeling off his kneesocks, I guess some things will never change.
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Prince William/Prince Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, real person slash.
Summary: William can't resist Harry when he's all muddy and sweaty after a football game, and Harry has a sneaking suspicion it's got something to do with the striped kneesocks he wears when he plays.
A/N: Hee, title. I couldn't help it. But yeah, this is kind of for klepto_malfoy because we had a discussion about it a while ago. :D
It's the socks. Harry knows it's got to have something to do with the socks because for the rest of the time, William can control himself. One minute he'll be lecturing Harry on 'family values' and 'public image' and saying things like "Seriously, Harry, can't you see that it's wrong?" and the next minute he'll be on his knees sucking on Harry's cock like his life depends on it.
And it's always after a game. Football, rugby, anything. Anything, that is, as long as it requires Harry to wear striped kneesocks.
It didn't take long for him to work it out, though William still obviously believes he's been really subtle about the whole thing. The fact that it's always after a game-immediately after, before he's had a chance to change or shower-is hard to ignore, for one thing. And there's something about the way William acts, so desperate, dragging Harry off to the nearest room or closet, locking the door if he can or shoving things in front of it if he can't, behaving as though he has to have him right there, right then, or it'll be the end of the world.
And he never lets Harry take the socks off. He'll tear off his shirt, yank down his shorts, sure. But the socks always stay on. Harry experimented with it, when he first became suspicious. He'd move to peel one off, and William would distract him with a sudden, passionate kiss, or even just bat his hand away. One time, William managed to get him completely naked apart from the socks. That was when Harry worked it out-it was hard not to, after that.
It's never long, though, before William takes Harry aside and says they need to have a Talk about their Situation. As though Harry's the one who's initiating it, the one who just can't keep his hands off his brother. It's kind of amusing, really, even though Harry can tell how hard William's trying, saying it's 'wrong' and 'disgusting' and "What would Mum think of us?" He's only trying to convince himself, and it never lasts longer than a week.
At first Harry believed him, of course. And he was furious. It didn't make any sense, for William to suddenly insist they 'put an end to this'. And when he kept coming back, it made things even worse. How could he mess Harry around like that? Acting like he was the only thing in the world he wanted, and then suddenly turning around and saying they could never touch each other again?
But the Talks have just become less and less effective. It's difficult to take William seriously when he knows how things are going to end up. So William's started saying things like "I'm not sure you understand what I'm saying, Harry," and looking all concerned, and every time, Harry just nods solemnly, pats his brother on the back and says "I understand, Wills. Never again."
Because of course, it's all utter nonsense. William is obviously trying his hardest, but in the end he can't help himself. Like this time. Harry's on his way upstairs after a football game, splattered head-to-toe with mud, and William appears out of nowhere and drags him off to the bathroom, pushing him against the wall and kissing him hard like their last Talk never even happened.
Harry can't for the life of him work out why William wants him when he's so dirty. William's the kind of guy who likes things clean, so why would he want to be so close to Harry-suck him, sometimes even fuck him-when he's all muddy and sweaty? It really doesn't make a lot of sense. Right now, William's dressed in a button-down shirt and pressed white trousers, soft and spotless and smelling like fabric conditioner and aftershave. And he steps back, looks Harry up and down, and then lunges forward, pushing his face into the place where Harry's neck meets his shoulder; inhaling.
His hands travel down Harry's body, slipping underneath his football shirt and running over his stomach and chest, fingers circling his nipples. He finally pulls away from the grubby fabric of Harry's shirt and kisses him again, almost savagely, lips sliding against each other, hot and smooth and frantic. Sometimes Harry plays up, and today he wants to, so he pulls away a little and pipes up, "But Wills...I thought you said we couldn't?"
William looks momentarily annoyed, but then he just says "One last time, Harry, just one last time," and crushes their mouths together again, his actions contradicting his words and letting Harry know that there will never be a real 'last time'.
And then William sinks down onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor and, letting out a shaky breath, runs his hands over Harry's shins. He looks up at his brother and says fondly, "You idiot, they don't even match," and Harry thinks I know, I did that for you, because he knows William loves it even if he'd rather die than say so. William toys with the top of one of the socks, obviously trying to make Harry think he's considering taking it off. But then moves his hand upwards, probably hoping Harry will think he just decided he couldn't be bothered.
Harry's got a bandage round his knee from a particularly nasty scrape he got during the game earlier, and William's hand over it sends a little shock of pain through his body. He winces, and William breathes "Sorry," and his hand travels further up Harry's leg, smooth and warm against his brother's mud-stained thigh. He places his hand over Harry's crotch and Harry doesn't even bother acting embarrassed that he's already hard-William should expect nothing less by this time.
The shorts and boxers are pulled down quickly, pooled around Harry's ankles, and William barely even gives Harry's cock a second look before he takes it into his mouth, down his throat, making Harry wish he wasn't always pressed up against a wall when this happens so he could have something to grab hold of. He goes for William's shoulder, digging in his fingernails as his brother sucks him hard, lips strained tight and working their way up and down his shaft.
He feels tickling at his shin and he looks down to see William's fingers hooked into the top of his left sock, curling and twisting in the dirty fabric, pulling at it almost violently. William opens his eyes and looks up, realising he's been watched, and he lets go, steadying his hand on Harry's hip instead. Maybe attempting to distract him, he teases the slit of Harry's cock with his tongue, making his brother claw at the wallpaper and stifle a moan against his hand.
There's something really incredible about these moments, something undeniably sexy about the way William acts, so fierce and out-of-control. Any more and it'd be scary, but as it is, Harry kind of likes it, likes to feel so wanted, even if he doesn't fully understand the way William's mind works. He thinks he probably never will, so maybe it's not worth trying. And the way it's going at the moment really isn't all that bad.
He looks down again and sees that William has undone his own trousers now and is fisting his cock quickly as he sucks Harry's, hand wrapped tight around himself, tugging and pulling. Harry's body tenses at the sight and he knows he's close. He bites his lip and grabs hold of William's hand where it's curled round his hip, spluttering out "Wills-Wills-" as he comes hard down his brother's throat.
He sinks down onto the floor, his whole body aching and feeling even dirtier and sweatier than before. He watches William finish himself off, watches him scrunch his eyes shut, and stroke and rub his cock until he comes, spurting over his hand. He gets to his feet almost immediately, rinsing off his hands in the sink, and Harry fights back a smile at the fact that William all of a sudden seems to care about being clean again.
William dries his hands on a towel and Harry looks up at him. "I'm going to have a shower," he says, then hesitates, thinking no, I can't, I really can't say it but he does it anyway. "And, er, Wills?" he says tentatively. "What is it, exactly, about the socks?"
William colours slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says as he heads for the door, unlocking it and opening it before stepping out into the hallway. "Are you free later tonight, by the way? Because I think maybe we should have a little talk, you know, about all of this."
Once again Harry tries not to smile. "Yes..." he says, nodding sadly. "I guess I can fit that in."
William nods back, gravely, and shuts the door behind him.
Ah well, Harry thinks as he sits on the edge of the bath, peeling off his kneesocks, I guess some things will never change.