'Potential to Love' for joshyouare
Merry Christmas, joshyouare!
Title: Potential to Love
Author: ???
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Pudd
Word Count: 3,573
Summary: Harry meets Dougie, then meets Dougie again after a one-night stand.
A/N: This fic wrote itself, and I find it super fun and cute. I enjoyed writing it immensely. Merry Christmas, joshyouare! Your prompt is high on my list of favourites that I've had. It's been a while since I've written Pudd, it was refreshing. Hope it's enjoyed!! Con-crit is welcome and encouraged!
Sticking out his thumb along the side of the road is what gets Harry back into the center of London. He'll have his car towed off, pay for it later, whatever. He's late for work, and fuck, his day could not be going any worse.
When he stumbles into the office building where he works, he knows he's rumpled from the rushing breeze of the cars that hadn't picked him up, and he smells like cheap takeaway from sitting in the old car of the one who'd taken pity on him. Luckily, he doesn't know a single person on the first floor by name and he's the only person in the elevator all the way up to his floor, so he has a chance to sort himself a little.
His watch tells him that he's twenty minutes late by the time he makes it to his little office in the corner, and three seconds after he's set his bag down on his desk, the floor's secretary pops his head in. He's generally quite nice to him, even a friend that he’s invited to the pub before, but there's a sour look on his freckled face. "You're expected in a meeting," he tells him.
"Thanks, Danny," Harry replies, pulling back his chair to settle into.
"A meeting that started ten minutes ago."
He hardly has a chance to step back before Harry's rushing out of his office, and he calls after him where he's supposed to go. And of course, it's one of those circular rooms with the only door right in the middle of where he knows someone's going to be giving a presentation on the other side. There's no sneakiness to this. Everyone will see him come in, everyone will watch him as he hurries to his chair, and everyone will think he's an idiot.
It goes over exactly like that, except there are a few more people than he's used to in the room, some he's never seen before, so his normal chair next to Tom is taken and he has to sit in the front. The presenter glares his way.
It's really one of those meetings that has nothing to do with what he does in the company and there's no point to him being there. These go on forever.
Somewhere in the middle of the droning presentation, Harry's starts to daydream. It's his escape, and he does it well.
This particular escape takes him to last week. He wishes it hadn’t ended, not the way it did.
&&
“Tom, I don’t want to be here.”
Tom makes a noise somewhere between a cluck and a sigh, turning round to Harry as they finally reach the door to the club.
“Christ, can you quit whining? We’ll only stay for a bit. You asked to go for drinks.”
“At the local! Not a gay bar!”
There’s not even a chance for Tom to retort with a ‘too bad’ or anything like that, which he’d certainly say on a normal basis, because the guy at the door waves them inside impatiently and Harry’s taken by a grip on the sleeve of his new jacket and led to a table by his best friend. He feels like Tom is committing mutiny, bringing him here.
“I’ll get the first round. What do you want?” Tom asks nicely, sliding out of his coat.
Harry really can’t help sounding like a bratty kid when he replies. “To go home.”
Before Tom steps away, he stops, hands getting shoved into his pockets as he sighs again. He’s been doing that a lot tonight and Harry suspects he’s not going to stop unless he himself has an attitude change, which, at the moment, is unlikely. “What is wrong with this place, Harry?”
Now he really feels like a spoiled child, because Tom is talking to him calmly and slow. He slumps into the seat of the booth, frowning at the velvety table-top. “I’ve never been to one of these places,” he mutters.
There’s a hand on his shoulder the next moment and Tom has that sympathetic smile, the one that Harry should know makes the blonde his best friend, but he’s not sure whether he likes it or wants to punch it.
“That may be, but it’s not my first time here, Harry, so relax. There’s not really a world of difference like you’d think. We don’t have to do anything but sit and drink, if you don’t want. But we’re here, so you need to enjoy yourself.”
“You’ll make my life hell at work if I don’t, won’t you?”
“Damn right. Now what should I get you to cheer your sorrows?”
“The girliest thing there is,” Harry clips, all sarcasm.
He doesn’t expect Tom to come back and slide him a very pink strawberry daiquiri, and he certainly doesn’t expect Tom to come back with another person beside him, but why not? This is not a night for regular occurrences. It’s a night that he’s going to never forgive Tom for.
“This is my pal, Dougie,” Tom explains, sitting down across from Harry.
Harry puts on his brightest smile, and is a bit taken aback at how it becomes genuine when he actually looks at Dougie and accepts his handshake across the table. The guy is smaller, but handsome in a soft, untouched way that’s probably entirely false. By the glimmer of humour and mischief in his eyes, Harry deems his first impression correct.
“Harry. Nice to meet you.”
“Same. I like your jacket.”
Harry, stupidly, looks down at it. He’d wanted it the day it had gone on sale and used part of his paycheck for it, the small part that he set aside for little pleasures. It had probably been a bad idea, but he had hardly taken it off since it had arrived, so it was an investment, if anything. Red and blue checked, button-up, but with a hood. And suddenly, he was mildly self-conscious.
What the hell was wrong with him tonight?
“Thanks very much,” he says back, actually taking a sip from the overly-fruity drink Tom had brought him, ignoring the amusement in his friend’s round, brown eyes.
“He went mental over it,” Tom supplies, procuring a beer from nowhere which he passes to Harry, giving him some mercy. “Fell in love the first time he saw it and worried about it going out of stock before he could buy one.”
“Did you, now?” Dougie laughs, but kindly, and Harry, thinking he might as well, shrugs.
“You have to take a chance for the things which you have the potential to love,” he answered, trying to sound a little scholarly in a funny way and far less cheesy.
Dougie smiled back, like he knew exactly what Harry meant.
&&
The night went on with the three of them chatting, but eventually, Tom disappeared onto the dance floor and Harry was left with Dougie sat across from him, and it was actually going alright.
Aside from that he couldn’t take his eyes from the way Dougie’s mouth moved when he talked, or how he clutched his mixed drink with both hands, drawing insensible designs with his fingertips in the mist of the glass. When Dougie laughed, there was this little tingle that had Harry holding his breath. They were in the middle of some friendly secret-sharing about Tom, having figured out that they had both known the blonde for quite a while, Harry a few years longer, when their knees bumped under the table, and Harry stopped mid-sentence for a second, chewing his lip and trying to keep from flushing.
The dark tint to Dougie’s eyes that suddenly appeared didn’t help matters.
“How far away do you live, Harry?”
It took a moment. Oh. God.
“Erm, about a fifteen minute cab drive.”
“I’m closer, then. Wanna go?”
He did, but.
“Leave Tom a text. He’ll get it after he’s done his own pull.”
Dougie is watching him, and then he lowers his eyes, shifting around in his seat uncertainly.
“Only if you want to.”
The pair of ocean-blue eyes that, just for a second, glance right back up at him, make up Harry’s mind.
Tom, gone 2 a less gay place w/ Dougie. c u @ work tomoro.
&&
The cab drive is four minutes, roughly. Harry was not counting.
Dougie lives in this line of nice, but small flats that stack up close to each other, cozy-like. His is almost on the end of the row, just one other home as far as Harry can tell, unless more swoop around the curve of the road. He’s vaguely surprised that there are flats this charming so close to the little square where the club was located.
Harry intended to pay the cab fare, but Dougie somehow beats him to it while he’s too muddled with the fact that he’s here, at another guy’s home, about to…
The hand that pulls him out of the cab is gentle, but there’s a tug that says ‘I’m not taking no for an answer, and, no, I did not ask.’
And he’s ok with that.
Just nervous.
Dougie can tell once he gets the door open and they both step inside. All Harry does is stand there.
“I’ll take your jacket for you,” Dougie suggests, holding out a hand for it after he takes off his own and hangs it on one of the little pegs behind the door. They’re made out of gear shifters from different types of old cars, which Harry manages to comment on as he also manages to fucking move and slide out of his jacket.
“Those are very cool. You came up with that?”
There’s an appreciative grin on Dougie’s face. “Indeed I did. I used to work in a mechanic shop ages ago and there were all sorts of unused bits laying around after a while. Figured it was a shame not to put them back to good use.”
He takes Harry’s jacket jovially and hangs it up on the shifter that says ‘corvette’. Their fingers brush. Harry wonders where the spark came from that shoots through him.
The way Dougie leans back against the wall, casual, smiling, seems like an open invitation. For a second, Harry can’t seem to do anything one way or the other to accept or deny it, but he finds himself in front of Dougie soon enough, barely standing apart from each other. Dougie looks up at him, that same mischievous gleam in his eyes, but doesn’t react any other way. Harry realizes he’s being set up to make the first move.
He starts with a hand coming to brush against Dougie’s cheek, then a kiss.
It deepens rather quickly, faster than Harry’s used to, but it’s a good thing. He barely licks over Dougie’s bottom lip before the smaller man is opening his mouth for him and drawing him in. And the fact that Harry has Dougie pinned back against the wall adds to everything.
There are soft, content noises coming out of Dougie that make Harry’s jeans feel gradually tighter. More so when the soft touches get a little more intentional and a little more touchy.
“I think… we should… probably move this to… my room,” Dougie gets out between kisses, fingers dancing along the bottom of Harry’s shirt, just under the hem, pressing against awakened skin. “You know, with… my bed and all.”
There’s a short nod from Harry, but they still have trouble separating enough to make it up the stairs and down the hall. For a brief moment, Harry has Dougie backed against the door that he assumes leads into the bedroom and contemplates letting this happen right there. He doesn’t think Dougie would protest. But somewhere during that, the knob has turned and they’re nudging and pulling each other inside.
Harry’s shirt comes off with a few tugs and a few snapping noises as the buttons come loose. He watches Dougie pause to admire him, he hopes, and grins at the almost feral look on the younger man’s face as he comes back in for more attention.
They make it to the bed by the well-directed lead of Dougie, pulling Harry close, chest against chest, walking backward until his calves bump the frame, then finding himself being lowered onto the mattress. Harry settles over him, and off goes his shirt as well, pulled up over his arms. The only difference is that Harry leaves it on at his wrists, bundled into a firm grip. A gentle pull confirms that he’s restrained and there’s no getting out of it.
The deep moan that Dougie gives over that has Harry practically attacking his body with kisses and bites. He starts at the sensitive spot he discovers under Dougie’s ear and makes his way down to where Dougie’s neck joins to his shoulder, and he doesn’t even ask, just bites down. There’s the reward of Dougie’s breath hitching and a stuttered gasp when Harry soothes over the mark with a few licks and a kiss, but nips down on it again before travelling on.
He takes his time around Dougie’s navel and nipping along his hipbones, holding him down as he starts to squirm. His fingertips press into Dougie enough to leave bruises, but there’s no complaining, and he’s starting to learn that this is how Dougie must like it. Which strikes a fiery hot reaction deep inside of Harry.
Dougie’s tight jeans and boxers are pushed down and kicked away with almost no effort as soon as Harry’s fingers dip under the waistline. He holds his breath as he beholds Dougie, examining how the blonde looks with the marks he’s already left behind. Dougie shifts, arching up for contact, which Harry gives him in the form of a teasing press downward of his hips. Both of them let out a curse. They’re kissing again, with more eagerness this time, with a little more fight for dominance. Dougie’s making noises into Harry’s mouth that he wants to lock away and savor forever.
He lets go of Dougie’s wrists, lets him pull free of his t-shirt, and those hands roaming down his chest, playing across his nipples and down further cause all sorts of shivers through Harry.
Those hand find their way down to Harry’s ass and pull him in close, and the feel of Dougie’s cock against his thigh brings him to shimmy quickly out of the rest of his clothes. He comes free and there’s not even time to adjust to that before their lengths brush together and Dougie closes a hand around them both.
Their mutual groans fill the quiet of the room, and Harry returns to kissing and biting over Dougie’s middle until he feels a shift under him. He pulls back so Dougie can reach to the side of the bed, digging in the drawer. He almost effortlessly finds what they need without so much as sitting up and brings it back, pressing the two items into Harry’s palm.
No time is wasted for Harry to slick his fingers with the lube and bring them to tease at Dougie’s entrance. He pressed one in, just barely, and watches Dougie anxiously push back for more. That finger slides in, and barely begins to move around before Dougie pushes his hips back, silently urging for more. Another finger follows, then a third. It’s tight and slick.
Dougie has Harry lean up a bit when he pulls his fingers away, and reaches down to roll the condom on himself, and coat Harry with more of the lube, squeezing gently, making Harry grunt and involuntarily buck his hips.
Then Dougie’s pressed back down on the bed, legs falling open, spread apart, and Harry pushes into him, nibbling along the edge of Dougie’s ear, close, so he can hear all the sounds the other man starts making as soon as he’s adjusted and desperately tells Harry, “Fuck me. Hard.”
The rhythm goes fast, once Harry finds it. His thrusts are deep, all the way in, hips meeting hips with a slap of skin every time. Dougie pants underneath him, hooking his ankles against the small of Harry’s back, pulling him close so their chests are flush against each other. The slight sting against Harry’s back tells him that he’s been marked, too, scratches continuously gliding from his shoulder blades down to stop just above the curve of his ass.
A small shift in their position brings Dougie to cry out, head pressing into Harry’s shoulder, biting down hard, and Harry keeps it like that, slamming against Dougie’s prostate with every new thrust, fast, making Dougie’s moans come out in whimpers and half-said curses.
Dougie arches clear off the bed when Harry’s hand wraps around his dick and a thumb brushes over the head, and he’s gone, spilling over the both of them. In a few more thrusts, as Dougie clenches around him, Harry tumbles over after him, then they collapse against the mattress.
Once they’ve gotten back their breath, Harry pulls out, ties the condom, and throws it into the bin. He sits against the edge of Dougie’s bed, looking down as the blonde smiles up at him, mischief in those eyes so much clearer now.
“Come make yourself comfy,” he invites, squirming over on the big bed.
This. This is what floors Harry.
But he has no choice when he’s pulled down and Dougie settles in, tucked against his side. It’s ok, honestly. Nothing uncomfortable about it in the least. Dougie’s weight on his chest is nice, solid, warm. He stays until Dougie’s asleep, and a few hours after that.
But he can’t bring himself to stay the whole night, and tiptoes out when it’s barely even morning. All he takes with him that he didn’t have before are the ever-present marks on his body.
&&
The next day at work, Tom texts him after Harry’s gone for a coffee break, stopping by to pass his best friend a hot cup from Starbucks, then back to his office.
A less gay place, huh? Nice love bite.
&&
His phone vibrating in his pocket brings Harry out of his daydream. Blinking, he realizes that everyone is filing out of the room and Tom’s waiting at the door, waving his mobile pointedly.
Harry pulls it out, glancing down at the screen as he stands, and he almost has to sit right back down.
Did you see Dougie?
He rushes over to Tom.
“Dougie’s here?”
“Uh, yeah…”
“Why?”
Tom gives him the most bewildered look Harry’s ever seen, and it makes him nervous.
“Are you serious?”
Apparently they exchange the expression, because Tom rolls his eyes.
“Of course neither of you would talk about work while you get to know each other.” The last part of this was said with some emphasis that Harry had the courtesy to blush over. Still didn’t explain… “Dougie works here, too. On the fifth floor.”
Fucking…
“Since when?” Harry asks, exasperated, and Tom starts to pull him out of the room, heading back down toward their offices.
“Since six months ago. You honestly don’t pay attention to anything but your assignments when you’re here, do you?”
“’Course he don’t. Have to remind him about his meetings every day,” Danny says, coming up to them with an armful of files, which he holds against his chest. He’s grinning, charming, and Harry tries to bat him away, but he stays and walks with them back to Harry’s office.
“Our floor never works with the fifth floor. There’s not even anything in common with what either do. It’s not my fault I don’t know everyone in the building.”
“Well, the fifth floor are cooperating with us on the upcoming company party, so you’ll have a lot of chance to see Dougie,” Tom replies, dimple in place.
“Yeah, I had hoped that.”
They all turn around, and there’s Dougie, and Danny lets out a little ‘ohh,’ like he’s just catching on.
Tom winks at Dougie and pulls Danny away, who pouts at him just a little until they’re off in Tom’s office, and Harry’s just facing Dougie in the open space of the floor, offices on one side and desks on the other.
“Hi,” Harry says, suddenly not sure how to talk.
“That’s a start,” Dougie responds, not smiling, but not angry.
Harry feels like an asshole immediately. “Douige, I’m sorry about not staying-“
“You don’t have to be. It’s ok.”
“How is that ok?”
“Because I never thought I’d see you again anyway. I kind of got that ‘I-don’t-come-here-often’ vibe from you.”
It feels awful, hearing that. Harry doesn’t know how to respond, but he doesn’t have to, he guesses, because Dougie shrugs.
“You can try again, Harry. I’m not pissed at you.”
“Dunno how you can not be,” Harry mumbles.
“I’ve done it too. I understand.”
That simple. And then Dougie smiles.
“You can let me be your date to the party, if you need a chance to make it up to me. And let’s go for tea before then. I liked chatting.”
For some reason, that’s some kind of relief, and Harry finds himself smiling gently. “That would be great.”
Dougie nods and turns, but Harry stops him.
“Dougie.”
“Yeah?”
“I won’t mess up again. You didn’t have to forgive me.”
That mischief shows itself.
“You have to take a chance for the things which you have the potential to love.”
Title: Potential to Love
Author: ???
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Pudd
Word Count: 3,573
Summary: Harry meets Dougie, then meets Dougie again after a one-night stand.
A/N: This fic wrote itself, and I find it super fun and cute. I enjoyed writing it immensely. Merry Christmas, joshyouare! Your prompt is high on my list of favourites that I've had. It's been a while since I've written Pudd, it was refreshing. Hope it's enjoyed!! Con-crit is welcome and encouraged!
Sticking out his thumb along the side of the road is what gets Harry back into the center of London. He'll have his car towed off, pay for it later, whatever. He's late for work, and fuck, his day could not be going any worse.
When he stumbles into the office building where he works, he knows he's rumpled from the rushing breeze of the cars that hadn't picked him up, and he smells like cheap takeaway from sitting in the old car of the one who'd taken pity on him. Luckily, he doesn't know a single person on the first floor by name and he's the only person in the elevator all the way up to his floor, so he has a chance to sort himself a little.
His watch tells him that he's twenty minutes late by the time he makes it to his little office in the corner, and three seconds after he's set his bag down on his desk, the floor's secretary pops his head in. He's generally quite nice to him, even a friend that he’s invited to the pub before, but there's a sour look on his freckled face. "You're expected in a meeting," he tells him.
"Thanks, Danny," Harry replies, pulling back his chair to settle into.
"A meeting that started ten minutes ago."
He hardly has a chance to step back before Harry's rushing out of his office, and he calls after him where he's supposed to go. And of course, it's one of those circular rooms with the only door right in the middle of where he knows someone's going to be giving a presentation on the other side. There's no sneakiness to this. Everyone will see him come in, everyone will watch him as he hurries to his chair, and everyone will think he's an idiot.
It goes over exactly like that, except there are a few more people than he's used to in the room, some he's never seen before, so his normal chair next to Tom is taken and he has to sit in the front. The presenter glares his way.
It's really one of those meetings that has nothing to do with what he does in the company and there's no point to him being there. These go on forever.
Somewhere in the middle of the droning presentation, Harry's starts to daydream. It's his escape, and he does it well.
This particular escape takes him to last week. He wishes it hadn’t ended, not the way it did.
&&
“Tom, I don’t want to be here.”
Tom makes a noise somewhere between a cluck and a sigh, turning round to Harry as they finally reach the door to the club.
“Christ, can you quit whining? We’ll only stay for a bit. You asked to go for drinks.”
“At the local! Not a gay bar!”
There’s not even a chance for Tom to retort with a ‘too bad’ or anything like that, which he’d certainly say on a normal basis, because the guy at the door waves them inside impatiently and Harry’s taken by a grip on the sleeve of his new jacket and led to a table by his best friend. He feels like Tom is committing mutiny, bringing him here.
“I’ll get the first round. What do you want?” Tom asks nicely, sliding out of his coat.
Harry really can’t help sounding like a bratty kid when he replies. “To go home.”
Before Tom steps away, he stops, hands getting shoved into his pockets as he sighs again. He’s been doing that a lot tonight and Harry suspects he’s not going to stop unless he himself has an attitude change, which, at the moment, is unlikely. “What is wrong with this place, Harry?”
Now he really feels like a spoiled child, because Tom is talking to him calmly and slow. He slumps into the seat of the booth, frowning at the velvety table-top. “I’ve never been to one of these places,” he mutters.
There’s a hand on his shoulder the next moment and Tom has that sympathetic smile, the one that Harry should know makes the blonde his best friend, but he’s not sure whether he likes it or wants to punch it.
“That may be, but it’s not my first time here, Harry, so relax. There’s not really a world of difference like you’d think. We don’t have to do anything but sit and drink, if you don’t want. But we’re here, so you need to enjoy yourself.”
“You’ll make my life hell at work if I don’t, won’t you?”
“Damn right. Now what should I get you to cheer your sorrows?”
“The girliest thing there is,” Harry clips, all sarcasm.
He doesn’t expect Tom to come back and slide him a very pink strawberry daiquiri, and he certainly doesn’t expect Tom to come back with another person beside him, but why not? This is not a night for regular occurrences. It’s a night that he’s going to never forgive Tom for.
“This is my pal, Dougie,” Tom explains, sitting down across from Harry.
Harry puts on his brightest smile, and is a bit taken aback at how it becomes genuine when he actually looks at Dougie and accepts his handshake across the table. The guy is smaller, but handsome in a soft, untouched way that’s probably entirely false. By the glimmer of humour and mischief in his eyes, Harry deems his first impression correct.
“Harry. Nice to meet you.”
“Same. I like your jacket.”
Harry, stupidly, looks down at it. He’d wanted it the day it had gone on sale and used part of his paycheck for it, the small part that he set aside for little pleasures. It had probably been a bad idea, but he had hardly taken it off since it had arrived, so it was an investment, if anything. Red and blue checked, button-up, but with a hood. And suddenly, he was mildly self-conscious.
What the hell was wrong with him tonight?
“Thanks very much,” he says back, actually taking a sip from the overly-fruity drink Tom had brought him, ignoring the amusement in his friend’s round, brown eyes.
“He went mental over it,” Tom supplies, procuring a beer from nowhere which he passes to Harry, giving him some mercy. “Fell in love the first time he saw it and worried about it going out of stock before he could buy one.”
“Did you, now?” Dougie laughs, but kindly, and Harry, thinking he might as well, shrugs.
“You have to take a chance for the things which you have the potential to love,” he answered, trying to sound a little scholarly in a funny way and far less cheesy.
Dougie smiled back, like he knew exactly what Harry meant.
&&
The night went on with the three of them chatting, but eventually, Tom disappeared onto the dance floor and Harry was left with Dougie sat across from him, and it was actually going alright.
Aside from that he couldn’t take his eyes from the way Dougie’s mouth moved when he talked, or how he clutched his mixed drink with both hands, drawing insensible designs with his fingertips in the mist of the glass. When Dougie laughed, there was this little tingle that had Harry holding his breath. They were in the middle of some friendly secret-sharing about Tom, having figured out that they had both known the blonde for quite a while, Harry a few years longer, when their knees bumped under the table, and Harry stopped mid-sentence for a second, chewing his lip and trying to keep from flushing.
The dark tint to Dougie’s eyes that suddenly appeared didn’t help matters.
“How far away do you live, Harry?”
It took a moment. Oh. God.
“Erm, about a fifteen minute cab drive.”
“I’m closer, then. Wanna go?”
He did, but.
“Leave Tom a text. He’ll get it after he’s done his own pull.”
Dougie is watching him, and then he lowers his eyes, shifting around in his seat uncertainly.
“Only if you want to.”
The pair of ocean-blue eyes that, just for a second, glance right back up at him, make up Harry’s mind.
Tom, gone 2 a less gay place w/ Dougie. c u @ work tomoro.
&&
The cab drive is four minutes, roughly. Harry was not counting.
Dougie lives in this line of nice, but small flats that stack up close to each other, cozy-like. His is almost on the end of the row, just one other home as far as Harry can tell, unless more swoop around the curve of the road. He’s vaguely surprised that there are flats this charming so close to the little square where the club was located.
Harry intended to pay the cab fare, but Dougie somehow beats him to it while he’s too muddled with the fact that he’s here, at another guy’s home, about to…
The hand that pulls him out of the cab is gentle, but there’s a tug that says ‘I’m not taking no for an answer, and, no, I did not ask.’
And he’s ok with that.
Just nervous.
Dougie can tell once he gets the door open and they both step inside. All Harry does is stand there.
“I’ll take your jacket for you,” Dougie suggests, holding out a hand for it after he takes off his own and hangs it on one of the little pegs behind the door. They’re made out of gear shifters from different types of old cars, which Harry manages to comment on as he also manages to fucking move and slide out of his jacket.
“Those are very cool. You came up with that?”
There’s an appreciative grin on Dougie’s face. “Indeed I did. I used to work in a mechanic shop ages ago and there were all sorts of unused bits laying around after a while. Figured it was a shame not to put them back to good use.”
He takes Harry’s jacket jovially and hangs it up on the shifter that says ‘corvette’. Their fingers brush. Harry wonders where the spark came from that shoots through him.
The way Dougie leans back against the wall, casual, smiling, seems like an open invitation. For a second, Harry can’t seem to do anything one way or the other to accept or deny it, but he finds himself in front of Dougie soon enough, barely standing apart from each other. Dougie looks up at him, that same mischievous gleam in his eyes, but doesn’t react any other way. Harry realizes he’s being set up to make the first move.
He starts with a hand coming to brush against Dougie’s cheek, then a kiss.
It deepens rather quickly, faster than Harry’s used to, but it’s a good thing. He barely licks over Dougie’s bottom lip before the smaller man is opening his mouth for him and drawing him in. And the fact that Harry has Dougie pinned back against the wall adds to everything.
There are soft, content noises coming out of Dougie that make Harry’s jeans feel gradually tighter. More so when the soft touches get a little more intentional and a little more touchy.
“I think… we should… probably move this to… my room,” Dougie gets out between kisses, fingers dancing along the bottom of Harry’s shirt, just under the hem, pressing against awakened skin. “You know, with… my bed and all.”
There’s a short nod from Harry, but they still have trouble separating enough to make it up the stairs and down the hall. For a brief moment, Harry has Dougie backed against the door that he assumes leads into the bedroom and contemplates letting this happen right there. He doesn’t think Dougie would protest. But somewhere during that, the knob has turned and they’re nudging and pulling each other inside.
Harry’s shirt comes off with a few tugs and a few snapping noises as the buttons come loose. He watches Dougie pause to admire him, he hopes, and grins at the almost feral look on the younger man’s face as he comes back in for more attention.
They make it to the bed by the well-directed lead of Dougie, pulling Harry close, chest against chest, walking backward until his calves bump the frame, then finding himself being lowered onto the mattress. Harry settles over him, and off goes his shirt as well, pulled up over his arms. The only difference is that Harry leaves it on at his wrists, bundled into a firm grip. A gentle pull confirms that he’s restrained and there’s no getting out of it.
The deep moan that Dougie gives over that has Harry practically attacking his body with kisses and bites. He starts at the sensitive spot he discovers under Dougie’s ear and makes his way down to where Dougie’s neck joins to his shoulder, and he doesn’t even ask, just bites down. There’s the reward of Dougie’s breath hitching and a stuttered gasp when Harry soothes over the mark with a few licks and a kiss, but nips down on it again before travelling on.
He takes his time around Dougie’s navel and nipping along his hipbones, holding him down as he starts to squirm. His fingertips press into Dougie enough to leave bruises, but there’s no complaining, and he’s starting to learn that this is how Dougie must like it. Which strikes a fiery hot reaction deep inside of Harry.
Dougie’s tight jeans and boxers are pushed down and kicked away with almost no effort as soon as Harry’s fingers dip under the waistline. He holds his breath as he beholds Dougie, examining how the blonde looks with the marks he’s already left behind. Dougie shifts, arching up for contact, which Harry gives him in the form of a teasing press downward of his hips. Both of them let out a curse. They’re kissing again, with more eagerness this time, with a little more fight for dominance. Dougie’s making noises into Harry’s mouth that he wants to lock away and savor forever.
He lets go of Dougie’s wrists, lets him pull free of his t-shirt, and those hands roaming down his chest, playing across his nipples and down further cause all sorts of shivers through Harry.
Those hand find their way down to Harry’s ass and pull him in close, and the feel of Dougie’s cock against his thigh brings him to shimmy quickly out of the rest of his clothes. He comes free and there’s not even time to adjust to that before their lengths brush together and Dougie closes a hand around them both.
Their mutual groans fill the quiet of the room, and Harry returns to kissing and biting over Dougie’s middle until he feels a shift under him. He pulls back so Dougie can reach to the side of the bed, digging in the drawer. He almost effortlessly finds what they need without so much as sitting up and brings it back, pressing the two items into Harry’s palm.
No time is wasted for Harry to slick his fingers with the lube and bring them to tease at Dougie’s entrance. He pressed one in, just barely, and watches Dougie anxiously push back for more. That finger slides in, and barely begins to move around before Dougie pushes his hips back, silently urging for more. Another finger follows, then a third. It’s tight and slick.
Dougie has Harry lean up a bit when he pulls his fingers away, and reaches down to roll the condom on himself, and coat Harry with more of the lube, squeezing gently, making Harry grunt and involuntarily buck his hips.
Then Dougie’s pressed back down on the bed, legs falling open, spread apart, and Harry pushes into him, nibbling along the edge of Dougie’s ear, close, so he can hear all the sounds the other man starts making as soon as he’s adjusted and desperately tells Harry, “Fuck me. Hard.”
The rhythm goes fast, once Harry finds it. His thrusts are deep, all the way in, hips meeting hips with a slap of skin every time. Dougie pants underneath him, hooking his ankles against the small of Harry’s back, pulling him close so their chests are flush against each other. The slight sting against Harry’s back tells him that he’s been marked, too, scratches continuously gliding from his shoulder blades down to stop just above the curve of his ass.
A small shift in their position brings Dougie to cry out, head pressing into Harry’s shoulder, biting down hard, and Harry keeps it like that, slamming against Dougie’s prostate with every new thrust, fast, making Dougie’s moans come out in whimpers and half-said curses.
Dougie arches clear off the bed when Harry’s hand wraps around his dick and a thumb brushes over the head, and he’s gone, spilling over the both of them. In a few more thrusts, as Dougie clenches around him, Harry tumbles over after him, then they collapse against the mattress.
Once they’ve gotten back their breath, Harry pulls out, ties the condom, and throws it into the bin. He sits against the edge of Dougie’s bed, looking down as the blonde smiles up at him, mischief in those eyes so much clearer now.
“Come make yourself comfy,” he invites, squirming over on the big bed.
This. This is what floors Harry.
But he has no choice when he’s pulled down and Dougie settles in, tucked against his side. It’s ok, honestly. Nothing uncomfortable about it in the least. Dougie’s weight on his chest is nice, solid, warm. He stays until Dougie’s asleep, and a few hours after that.
But he can’t bring himself to stay the whole night, and tiptoes out when it’s barely even morning. All he takes with him that he didn’t have before are the ever-present marks on his body.
&&
The next day at work, Tom texts him after Harry’s gone for a coffee break, stopping by to pass his best friend a hot cup from Starbucks, then back to his office.
A less gay place, huh? Nice love bite.
&&
His phone vibrating in his pocket brings Harry out of his daydream. Blinking, he realizes that everyone is filing out of the room and Tom’s waiting at the door, waving his mobile pointedly.
Harry pulls it out, glancing down at the screen as he stands, and he almost has to sit right back down.
Did you see Dougie?
He rushes over to Tom.
“Dougie’s here?”
“Uh, yeah…”
“Why?”
Tom gives him the most bewildered look Harry’s ever seen, and it makes him nervous.
“Are you serious?”
Apparently they exchange the expression, because Tom rolls his eyes.
“Of course neither of you would talk about work while you get to know each other.” The last part of this was said with some emphasis that Harry had the courtesy to blush over. Still didn’t explain… “Dougie works here, too. On the fifth floor.”
Fucking…
“Since when?” Harry asks, exasperated, and Tom starts to pull him out of the room, heading back down toward their offices.
“Since six months ago. You honestly don’t pay attention to anything but your assignments when you’re here, do you?”
“’Course he don’t. Have to remind him about his meetings every day,” Danny says, coming up to them with an armful of files, which he holds against his chest. He’s grinning, charming, and Harry tries to bat him away, but he stays and walks with them back to Harry’s office.
“Our floor never works with the fifth floor. There’s not even anything in common with what either do. It’s not my fault I don’t know everyone in the building.”
“Well, the fifth floor are cooperating with us on the upcoming company party, so you’ll have a lot of chance to see Dougie,” Tom replies, dimple in place.
“Yeah, I had hoped that.”
They all turn around, and there’s Dougie, and Danny lets out a little ‘ohh,’ like he’s just catching on.
Tom winks at Dougie and pulls Danny away, who pouts at him just a little until they’re off in Tom’s office, and Harry’s just facing Dougie in the open space of the floor, offices on one side and desks on the other.
“Hi,” Harry says, suddenly not sure how to talk.
“That’s a start,” Dougie responds, not smiling, but not angry.
Harry feels like an asshole immediately. “Douige, I’m sorry about not staying-“
“You don’t have to be. It’s ok.”
“How is that ok?”
“Because I never thought I’d see you again anyway. I kind of got that ‘I-don’t-come-here-often’ vibe from you.”
It feels awful, hearing that. Harry doesn’t know how to respond, but he doesn’t have to, he guesses, because Dougie shrugs.
“You can try again, Harry. I’m not pissed at you.”
“Dunno how you can not be,” Harry mumbles.
“I’ve done it too. I understand.”
That simple. And then Dougie smiles.
“You can let me be your date to the party, if you need a chance to make it up to me. And let’s go for tea before then. I liked chatting.”
For some reason, that’s some kind of relief, and Harry finds himself smiling gently. “That would be great.”
Dougie nods and turns, but Harry stops him.
“Dougie.”
“Yeah?”
“I won’t mess up again. You didn’t have to forgive me.”
That mischief shows itself.
“You have to take a chance for the things which you have the potential to love.”