souffrir ~ nick & harry

Oct 26, 2012 15:05


Angry, rain-soaked AU smut. Nick is a trust fund brat and Harry sings in a thrashy garage rock band. They court each other, move in together, then fight each other. Angst laced with some violence.

Their first words to each other were muffled by the incessant wail of an ambulance. Harry’s hands were sticky and sweet from the vodka cran, from the undulating heat of the party. After howling out the last of their set, the band was ready to depart. They weren’t all that interested in sticking around tonight. Harry had reduced his shirt to tatters after clawing at himself and vamping around on stage. He was in the middle of sharing a smoke with the surly drummer when a face from the crowd prompted him to shove off the wall and follow as it weaved through rustles of silk and raw denim. 



“I’m _____,” he tried to shout over both the siren and the music.

”_____. Just how old are you?”

Harry lingered on the sleepy watercolor smudges under Nick’s eyes and the pale pink swell of his lips. His hair was cropped neatly at the sides but the top was a froth of waves. He longed to run his hands through it but he didn’t know how to woo a man, he never had to.

“Twenty. I’m not into blokes.”  Nick got the distinct feeling that he was being lied to but chose not to point out the fact that Harry had approached him first. The last words were clearly added as an afterthought.

“Does it matter?” he asked with a lopsided smirk, hooking a finger into the gash on the other’s shirt as the chandelier shook above them.

“No, no I suppose it doesn’t.”  Nick’s touch was one hell of a distraction.  Harry wasn’t sure why he felt that he could trust this person who had this dry sort of dignity about him. His face wasn’t completely unreadable but he had this way of using his eyes when his lips didn’t feel like exerting themselves too much. Nick was fluid, unpredictable. Their personalities were bound to clash and he just had to wonder why that wasn’t an issue for him.

“Let’s ditch your friends. My place has a view of the skyline.”



Nick couldn’t possibly explain the escalation from talking at the party to hurtling down the highway in his sports car with Harry. Their seat belts abraded the skin on their necks with every abrupt turn and acceleration. Harry was drunk, Nick was not. He was conscious of every stare and foolhardy attempt to get closer. He drove them into a tunnel and watched as the darkness cast their faces into shadow. He liked this guy already. Anybody who didn’t get their dick in a twist over his driving just had to be the real deal. 
The concept of foreplay seemed foreign to Harry and it was easy to tell when their bodies met on the balcony. An ingenious arrangement of vines and blooms framed their messy, desperate kiss. Their hands were already plunged into each other’s trousers and their necks bore evidence of a marking spree. The excitement from that night prompted Nick’s neighbor to reprimand him in the morning with just one question: “What were you doing in there, killing each other?”

I

Nick bit into his amuse-bouche before chasing it with a mouth-puckeringly sour apéritif. Their last course didn’t sit well with his stomach and he felt like running his head under some cold water. He let his fork fall against the brim of his plate with a soft plink and moistened his lips.

“Mum. Can I have some money?”

His dining partner frowned before turning the tourmaline and rose-gold bangle on her wrist. “You want to replace that squalid flat of your boyfriend’s? Am I right in assuming that it’s still a dirty mattress on the floor?”

“That’s the plan, yes.”

She allowed her lips to purse in distaste but leaned forward to indicate her interest. Her son never looked this pleased to be doing someone a favor. She brought a napkin to her lips, painting it with smudges of dusky mauve pink. There was nothing to think about, she loved her boy too much to deny him of anything.

“You’re not in love with him, are you? It’s just that I’ve noticed these…small things. Have you been eating? Sleeping enough?”

Nick paled and muttered small assurances to his mother but it was more for himself than anyone else. There was no way he could love that shitty little twerp. That flighty, hopelessly temperamental mess of curls and bullshit. That boy who loved building obstacle courses around everything he touched. Harry was fun but Nick’s patience was finite. He needed consistency and he knew that was too much to expect from someone who was just on the brink of stardom.

II

“The fuck did you go and do that for?”

Shorn curls scattered the mottled tile of Harry’s bathroom. The shears dangled precariously on the lip of the sink and Harry was admiring his handiwork in the mirror. He was definitely due for a haircut but it was bizarre to see someone who was usually so touchy about their hair just lop some off like that. Harry’s hand closed around the tapered end of the shears and turned so that he could press the handle against Nick’s chest. He nudged the man with his head and backed him up against the sink, catching some of his shirt in his mouth before tugging at the fabric. He didn’t say a single word, he didn’t have to. The serrated edge of the scissors set to work until Harry’s hair was artfully cropped. Their lips crashed together after the last curl fell, hard enough for the both of them to feel like they were kissing away all the boys and girls that preceded each other.

III

“I told you not to come around here again. I wasn’t joking, Harry. Get the hell out.”

Harry had parked his ass outside the doorway of Nick’s flat and was poking his hand through the metal bars of the accordion gate affixed to the sliding door. Nick didn’t have the heart to close it on those fingers, even though he really fucking wanted to. He knew from experience how much it hurt. He simply turned away and let Harry have his fun. If the guy wanted to set up camp outside his flat then that was his problem. Nick fixed himself a stiff drink and put on a record, muffling the shouts that sounded from beyond the flat. They didn’t exactly define the terms of their ‘relationship’ before Harry went on tour so maybe that’s where they went wrong. It wasn’t hard for Nick to catch wind of the other’s infidelity. It was all over the papers. It was written in his personality from the start. There was no way that such an unabashed cupid could settle on just one person. Nick prided himself on his ability to wait instead of retaliate but he wanted to have his bit of fun too. He wasn’t going to let this infatuation eat away at his right to happiness.

IV

Tufts of their hair were pinned back with tarnished gold barrettes. Morning sent slots of light through the shutters and across their shoulders as they began tearing into the pomegranates on their laps. They painted each other with the pulp from the pips, smearing red over fingertips, collarbones and jawlines. The juice seeped into the front of his crisply starched Savile Row shirt and Nick had to wonder why he didn’t care. They were good again. They were bad for a while, but after plying each other with parcels of takeout and hushed apologies they were good. They didn’t address the issues in front of each other. When they talked it was either to discuss Nick’s latest art purchase or Harry’s newly released album. They were content to do away with thoughts of the future in favor of devouring the caustic sweetness of the present.

V

They dressed in matching tuxes and sported faded marks from their last fight. Daubs of concealer could only do so much and their presence cast a dreary pall over the excitement of the smartly-dressed crowd. Nick had a heather grey pocket square while Harry’s was more of a muted beige. The highlights of the fashion benefit unfolded before their eyes but they couldn’t bring themselves to enjoy it just yet. Harry’s band was going to be on soon, and it was safe to say that their sound didn’t suit the rest of the entertainment.

They separated once the singer had to join the band backstage. The crowd was coaxed towards the night’s denouement with a few parting words and some frosty instrumentals. Beads of perspiration dotted Nick’s brow as he tightened his grip on the drink in his hand. Light flooded from the translucent panes of the box that encased the band before the walls lowered for them. People were already getting out of their seats to marvel at the churn of the guitar and percussion. Harry was doing what he did best up there, charming the bespoke pants off of anyone who could still stand. His snarls only made the crowds persist and push Nick aside from where he was rooted. He had the feeling that he was being watched from a comfortable distance. He didn’t exactly mind that he had two sets of eyes raking over him at the same time.

Things were going alright for the band until Harry saw them. Nick and some asshole whose name he couldn’t possibly remember. The waifish Jamie Del Moon lookalike definitely played guitar in a band that hated and competed against his. His hand was snaking up Nick’s arm and the man showed no signs of pulling away when the guitarist’s shaky balance pushed the sides of their faces into brief alignment.

Harry swore, kicked the mic stand over and stormed right off the stage, leaving the rest of the band at a total loss for words. He pulled this shit all the time but he had promised not to mess this up for them tonight. Promised. With a roll of his eyes the bassist steered the band into a feedback-heavy song that trailed after Harry as he left to find the pricks responsible for making him fuck up.



The rain turned their hair from brown to black and soaked their shirts into semi-transparence. Harry had dragged Nick out of the function and into the parking lot without even looking back. Neither of them were able to stop glaring at each other.

“Does it make you happy to see me like this?”

“Yeah. It does. I fucking love it. And you have no right asking me this, not after messing with my head so many times.”

“Wow, seven months and you’ve already got buyer’s remorse. You knew what I was like. I told you I’m shit at this. You know I do things on tour.”

“So you can do these things and suddenly I can’t? You don’t want to be with me, but you don’t want me to be with anyone else. Nothing you say makes sense, what’s going on in that drink-addled brain of yours? Too much beer in Harry Styles?”

“Fuck you!”

“Not anymore you won’t.”

Those words were talismanic. They were a dare. They prompted Harry to give Nick a shove, hard enough for his back to hit the glossy black surface of the Jaguar behind them. It was safe to say the man was incensed by this move. Not only were his clothes all wet and bunched up, he could tell that Harry wanted to drag him into their toxic cycle again. That sexy, dirty, horribly draining dance that broke you before letting you feel any sort of pleasure. Their hips collided before their mouths could even touch. Nick grabbed a fistful of Harry’s curls and tried to resist when the singer’s mouth sealed hot over his. The rain was sluicing down their shirts and scattering goosebumps along their necks but the kiss still burned. His other hand was gripping Harry’s wrist so hard that the pitter patter of rainwater didn’t even register on their skin anymore.



The fingers in Harry were a small courtesy. They weren’t kind, and they certainly didn’t intend to make him feel as good as he did but he was pushing back on them like his life depended on their movement. His face was twisted in pleasure and his pupils were so wide that his eyes looked like pools of ink. Nick’s hand was curled around his neck, pushing him further into the leather interior of the car. The fingers scissored about inside him, making the singer buck his hips and mutter a string of obscenities.

“I’m using you. Don’t think this means a single thing.” First lie.

“What makes you think I care? Use me. Fucking get on with it.” Second lie.

A flash of panic pulsed through Harry when it looked like Nick was going to pull his clothes back on and leave him high & dry in the damp seclusion of the car. It turned out that Nick was only producing a condom from the wet pool of shirts and trousers behind him. His gleaming teeth tore into the wrapper at one of the corners. His pale fingers rolled the sheath down on his cock before wrapping around it, giving it a slight polish with strokes of lubricant. The spite and lust in their eyes grew forked tongues when their lower halves finally met. Harry exhaled through his teeth and his body fought the intrusion with everything it had, knowing that too much Nick would’ve sent him straight into madness. His cock was stretching him, making him feel whole but hopelessly empty whenever it withdrew.



Their exchange was peppered with bites, pinches and half-hearted chokeholds. Every snap of their hips elicited hushed declarations of murder. Nick ran his hands down the backs of Harry’s thighs and smacked them. He drove himself into that maddening heat once more, moans mingling with the other’s. He thrashed and pulled as the minutes dragged on, making their misery so palpable, so fucking pleasurable. Harry wrapped a hand around himself and began stroking, shouting around the fingers that nudged past his lips and into his mouth.

They were torn between wanting to fuck each other out of existence and wanting to prolong this embrace for as long as they could. Harry’s watch-clad hand clawed up and down Nick’s back, raking over the soft notches of his spine. His cock was pink and swollen from the need to come but Nick wouldn’t let him. The thrusts alternated from slow and impossibly deep to shallow little stabs. The window closest to them was already fogged up which prompted Harry to drag his hand across the condensation. He lifted his leg so that it locked loosely around Nick’s shoulder and urged him closer.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” whimpered Harry the instant Nick’s fingers retreated from his mouth. He was bent at a new angle and he could barely suppress his moans anymore. Nick leaned over to capture those kiss-reddened lips in his, to shut them up. He swallowed the sounds and slammed faster in and out of Harry, smacking away the hand that he had wrapped around his cock. He swiped a thumb across the precome that beaded at the tip and began pumping him.

Their gazes dithered between each other’s faces and the unbearable friction that was rushing south. Nick felt Harry’s walls closing in around him, gripping and pulsing. The other’s name tumbled from his lips over and over as they sped towards their climaxes. Harry unfurled first, coming in long white ropes between their sweat-slicked chests and around the other’s fingers. Nick buried himself in that searing white heat again before coming too, muffling his shout against the singer’s neck and running the edge of his teeth along the artery. Soft shudders racked their bodies and they stared at each other in silence as the crowds dispersed from the gilded entrance of the venue.

“Still hate you.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”
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