Fic: Fuck With You (One Direction, OT5, Explicit, 10k)
Here is another story! It's uh. OT5 about Niall Horan, but different than the last one. Cool? COOL! For their assistance along the way as I bitched and moaned about this story, I'd like to thank ivyenglish, who came to stay for a week and got an Amber Benson cameo and surprise Phantom Planet set presumably as karmic recompense for having to listen to me whine about this IRL, lookingatstars who dealt with constant fake-outs as I was like "I'm gonna finish this tonight!!" and then didn't do it like three different times at least, and still kindly read it over tonight to boost up my ego, and castoffstarter, who totally handles my tackling her whenever she posts late night at Tumblr. So uh. I can complain about whatever I'm writing. THANKS GUYS! You put up with my ridiculousness, and for that I love and appreciate you!
Title: Fuck With You
Author: cyclogenesis
Fandom: One Direction
Pairing: OT5 (Niall/Harry/Louis/Liam/Zayn)
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Harry and Louis talk dirty. Niall talks back.
Notes: This LJ's for fic, I mostly post on Tumblr!
Disclaimer: This is fiction.
Word Count: 10,313
“I think I’d like to bend you over this couch some night,” Louis says to Harry. “In front of everybody, all the fans watching, the boys watching. How’d you feel about that?”
Niall keeps his eyes straight forward, focused on the crowd in front of him. He tries not to even blink.
“I feel good,” Harry says, after taking a moment to really consider it. He’s got a hand resting on the back of the couch, and Niall watches as his fingers clench in it, like he wishes the leather were Louis’ skin. “Want to show everyone you own me, do you?”
“I show everyone that every day,” Louis says easily. Niall wants to lick his lips, licks his teeth instead, liking the wet scrape of it. It’s a bit rough, like he thinks Harry and Louis must be with each other. It sounds like they give it to each other pretty roughly anyway, from what Niall’s overheard. And Niall’s overheard a lot, they just don’t give a fuck, either of them. Niall’d be more bitter about it, but it’s been awhile since he’s had anything, a shag, a kiss even, and he needs something to think about while he’s wanking, even if it’s his bandmates. Niall’s not picky.
Harry takes the opportunity to come round to their side of the couch, bending down close so he can whisper in Louis’ ear. Only he doesn’t whisper, not really, because if it were a whisper then Niall wouldn’t be able to hear it so fucking clearly. “What d’you think about Niall, then? You think he’d like to watch as much as he likes listening?” He doesn’t even glance up at Niall, neither of them do. Niall stares into the crowd, trying to focus on what Liam is saying, something about how grateful they are to the fans, and the world, and - something. Who cares. It isn’t working.
“You want him to watch while I fuck you?” Louis asks. He tilts his head up, resting his fingertips against Harry’s cheek as he whispers. Niall’s too fucking hot in this cardigan. He wants to take the damn thing off. “You think he could handle it? We might have to bind him up in the corner. He’s too eager, he’d probably want in.”
Niall breaks then, just for a second. His fingers tremble, and the microphone wavers in his hand before he steadies it, trying not to drop it. He glances at them, helpless not to, but they’re not even looking at him. Of course they’re not. It’s like he’s not even there, though they obviously fucking know he is. Obviously. It’s cruel, is what it is, them knowing how long it’s been since he’s had a shag and still trying to fuck with him.
“He could come in,” Harry says. “I bet he’d let you fuck him, I bet he’d take it. From both of us, even. I think he’d look just lovely with your cock down his throat, don’t you?”
“I think I’d like to pull his hair,” Louis muses. Niall bites his lip. “Really fuck his mouth, you know? Choke him on it.”
Niall stands abruptly, takes over reading the tweets onscreen and drags Zayn into a totally pointless discussion regarding the question about what they had for dinner. If the pictures afterward show that he’s hard, well, whatever.
-
And of course Harry and Louis don’t even say anything about it afterward. Assholes.
-
Next show Niall tries to get between them a bit, show them they can’t fuck around with him. He takes any opportunity he can to sling an arm around Harry and even kisses Louis on the cheek, a nice show that sends the fans screaming. It just makes Louis get that look on his face, the one like he knows every vulnerable spot in Niall’s armour and he’s well ready to pierce him through with a lance, and it’s just as Niall’s picturing Louis as some sort of medieval knight that Louis leans in and says, “You’re just dying for it, aren’t you, sweetheart?” and then it’s an effort for Niall not to buckle under the force of that, sharper than anything Louis could ever wield, and meaner too.
Later in the show Niall pushes past it, gets back into the rhythm and sticks close to Liam and Zayn, who pull him in as ever with their easy grins and affection, never expecting anything but fond reciprocation.
During the last song Harry touches his waist as he passes by, leans in so quickly that Niall thinks there’s no way anyone’s caught it, and whispers, “Hello, darling.” Somehow, it’s crueler than anything Louis’s ever done.
-
They all go out afterward, to a club with a no camera policy. Everyone dances with girls, Harry and Louis included, except for Niall. He downs whiskey sours and relishes the sting, and lets Zayn pull him in for a little friend-on-friend grinding. Harry and Louis both manage to flash him filthy grins as they pass through the strobe-lit crowd, and Niall leans his face into the curve of Zayn’s neck and hates them.
-
“Gets around, doesn’t he?” Louis muses idly, and Niall, perched on the back of the couch, knows damn well who he’s referring to. Louis looks sidelong at Harry, right past Zayn and Liam on the couch, like they’re not there at all. “Did you see him, last night? Dancing up on Zayn? I think he’d give it up to anybody.”
Zayn flicks his eyes sideways, then up at Niall. Niall shrugs, hoping the blush isn’t rising too visibly on his cheeks.
“You calling our Nialler a slag?” Harry says. He smiles over at Niall, Niall can fucking feel it, that million watt grin directed his way. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. I don’t think he’d take it from quite anybody. He saves it up, he’s quite special that way. Like we don’t know what he really wants.”
Zayn’s looking at Liam now, who’s still oblivious, like he’ll be the one to stop all this. But no one will, of course.
“I think he wants all of us, frankly,” says Louis. “I think he wants anything he can get, he just doesn’t want to go to the effort of trying for it. Just wants it to fall right into his lap, doesn’t he? So he can roll over and take it. Lazy sod.”
“Bet he’d be tight, though,” Harry says, and that’s when Zayn opens his mouth, maybe to say something, anything.
They go into a song instead. Later Niall realizes his lip is so chapped from being bitten that it’s bleeding.
-
“What’s this game that Harry and Louis have on, anyway?” Zayn asks, backing Niall up against a wall. Niall goes, looking up at him. It’s probably the perpetual state of sexual frustration that’s got him focusing so much on Zayn’s mouth, on the way it moves. “Are the three of you having a - I don’t know what to call it. Is it a threeway?”
“No,” says Niall. “Nothing’s happened.”
“Then why are they talking so dirty?” Zayn asks, searching Niall’s face like he might find the answer there. “It’s fucking weird, isn’t it? They trying to pull you into some little sex game?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Niall says. It’s hard to stand here, Zayn so close to him, and not move into it, move into the warmth of Zayn’s body. So Niall stops bothering, lets himself drift closer. “I kept hearing them talk to each other about all the ways they wanted to fuck, and then they started talking about me.” He’s off the wall now. He lets himself rest his forehead against Zayn’s shoulder, like he’s looking for comfort from the emotional trauma caused by his dirty-talking friends. “It’s weird. It was weird. Now it’s hot. Zayn, I’m frustrated,” he says, slipping a hand between Zayn’s shirt and letterman’s jacket, pressing his face to Zayn’s neck. It’s hotter than it would have been a week ago, before Harry and Louis started treating him like a toy to pass back and forth.
“I’ll talk to Liam,” Zayn says, kissing the side of Niall’s head. “He’ll make them stop.”
-
“So, stop picking on Niall,” Liam concludes, pulling Niall close. Niall burrows into the heat of Liam’s body, accepting the comfort. One of Liam’s curls tickles his nose, and Niall wants to know more. He lifts his other hand, touching Liam’s jaw and then winding one finger into a curl. It feels as pleasant as he thought it would. Liam’s so nice. Niall could stay here forever, protected from his mean bandmates and their sassy sex games.
“We’re just messing about,” Louis says, in a way that is not at all remotely penitent. “He just kept listening in, whenever we were talking to each other. Eavesdropping.”
“It’s not eavesdropping when you’re two feet away,” Niall protests. Liam winds his fingers into Niall’s hair, petting him into submission. “I couldn’t help it. You two don’t really need to be talking about fucking when we’re onstage anyway, some people can read lips you know.”
“Let them,” Harry says. “I’m not willing to sacrifice my turn-ons for an audience.”
“Good man,” says Louis. They high-five each other.
-
“I think it might be Liam that Niall wants fucking from,” Louis says, the next day, as Zayn and Liam are having a dance-off at the request of section 203, row Q, seat 11. Louis cranes his neck up, whispering it into Harry’s ear. Niall stares down at them, not even bothering anymore. “Did you see the way he curled into him last night? I think Liam’s cock would fix him up straight away.”
“I disagree,” states Harry, which is new. He’s got a hand around the back of Louis’ neck, which is old, but Niall watches anyway. “I think it’s Zayn he wants. Have you seen the way they hug each other? It’s one thrust away from obscenity.”
“Compromise is important in a relationship,” Louis says, leaning back to gaze up at Harry. “What say we agree that he wants to be fucked by the both of them? Doesn’t seem right to make a boy choose when he’s this desperate for cock.”
“Fair,” says Harry. “Maybe he just wants them both to fuck him at once? Don’t know how he could walk after that. He’d be awfully sore.”
It’s not really possible for Niall to hide his erection from the crowd after that, but he does at least sort of try.
-
Back on the bus Niall can’t stop thinking about it, what Harry said. It’d be terrible, wouldn’t it? It would hurt. He’s not like that, anyway, that’s the point, he’s not desperate for sex or anything. If that was the way he was, then he could go and get some, it wouldn’t be that difficult. Except what’s the point? Not that he’s a sap or anything, but it does help to know a person first. It helps to like them, and to trust them, and opportunities to meet people like that are thin on the ground when they’re out on tour. And they’re out on tour a lot.
Niall could get a girlfriend, maybe, or a boyfriend, but the idea of trying to keep up a relationship with his job sounds exhausting in a way that he’s not sure he could manage. He tries to imagine getting to a point with another person where he could act with them like he acts around the guys, someone he could just fall on and trust that they’d hold him up, but it sounds so distant as to be theoretical. The world is full of strangers; Niall likes the friends he already has.
He’s about to climb up in his bunk and mope about the state of all things when he hears the twitch open of a curtain and looks down to see Liam peering up from his own bunk. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re doing,” Liam says. “Can we have a chat?”
Niall tilts his head. “Sure,” he says. They’d exchanged banalities about the timing of bus call no more than an hour ago; Niall had been fine then, and nothing’s changed since. Still, he could do with a bit of talking about himself, especially what with everyone else talking about him lately. Be nice to get his own opinion on himself out in the open for once.
“Come in,” Liam says, gesturing for Niall to join him in a lie-down. That’s not too common, but Niall’s never one to turn down a cuddle, so he obligingly climbs in next to Liam, settling against his body and sighing out as he rests his head next to Liam’s on the pillow. Liam shuts the curtain and parts his legs a little, so Niall slips one between and lets his eyes flutter shut. “How are you?” Liam asks. “Are Harry and Louis still bothering you?”
“Yes,” Niall says. He shrugs, just the smallest movement, knowing Liam can feel it. “I think they get off on it or something. Well, I know they get off on the dirty talk, but I think they like dragging me into it. They’re saying all sorts of things now, they talk about you and Zayn too.”
Liam stiffens underneath him. “What, like they want to fuck us too? Good god, how kinky are they?”
Niall squeezes his eyes shut tight, filtering out all the light. “No, like they want you to fuck me. They think it’s what I want,” he adds quickly. His hipbone is about an inch from Liam’s dick, he realizes. He tries not to shift, then tries to relax. It doesn’t work. He squirms.
They’re so close that Niall can hear Liam swallow. “Is it?” Liam asks. His hand tenses at the base of Niall’s spine.
“I’m so hard up I’d settle for a kiss,” Niall says, trying for lightness in his tone. His voice trembles a little on the final word, and he can see it perfectly in his head, Liam grabbing him tightly round the waist, rolling them over, and pushing Niall right out of the bunk and onto his arse on the floor. Be what he deserves, probably. Who does that, anyway? Who spends too much time with their close friends and then essentially wants all of them? There must be something wrong with him. He can’t have the things he wants, it wouldn’t make sense that anybody could.
Liam grabs him by the waist, and Niall’s heart just about fucking stops for a second, but Liam just rolls them both onto their sides, so they’re facing each other. Niall’s back hits the wall, but Liam’s quick enough that he gets his hand up to cup the back of Niall’s head so it doesn’t bonk against the wall as well. The movement brings their faces close, and it’s nearly whispered against Niall’s mouth when Liam says, “You shouldn’t have to settle for anything. You should have what you need.”
Niall nods, because yeah, that’d sure be nice, and maybe Liam takes the movement as something else because he tilts his chin up and then their mouths are touching, a quick brush but not so quick that Niall can’t tell that it was deliberate. He breathes out, considers things for just a second, and then kisses Liam hard enough that Liam makes a surprised little noise against his mouth.
Liam clutches at him, tangling their legs together until Niall’s as close as he can get. It’s probably just because it’s been so long for Niall, but it seems like things get heated more quickly than they usually do. Pretty soon Niall’s got a hand on Liam’s thigh, nails digging into denim, and he’s hauling him in so they can better thrust against each other, since it seems that Niall’s already started doing that without even thinking about it. Then Liam’s just trying to keep up, gasping against Niall’s mouth when they part briefly for air. Niall doesn’t fuck around, he gets his hands up underneath Liam’s shirt and angles in to kiss him harder, biting gently at Liam’s lower lip and letting himself moan like he wants to. Feels good to let it out, to just be there with Liam’s mouth on his, Liam thrusting against him too, too little space to move much but they make it up by just grinding against each other.
It’s too hot in the enclosed space of the bunk, Niall can feel his cheeks flushing and each kiss is more suffocating than the last, until the world’s narrowed to just the swell of Liam’s lower lip between his teeth, the slide of Liam’s tongue in his mouth, the almost too hard pressure of Liam’s cock against his through their trousers. There’s so much friction that it’s riding the edge of pain, but Niall likes even that, likes the thought that he could suffer for this, suffer for what he wants and suffer in getting it. He digs his fingers into the curve of Liam’s waist and Liam grabs the back of his shirt, fisting it hard, and pulls abruptly away from Niall’s mouth, burying a cry against Niall’s shoulder and biting enough to get a mouthful of Niall’s shirt. That’s what does it for Niall, the thought that he could make Liam scream, that Liam had to hurt him a little just so he wouldn’t cry out loud; he presses himself against Liam’s hips as hard as he can and comes in his pants, throwing his head back hard enough that it hits the wall, pain crashing against the pleasure and sending him dizzy, reeling, from either or both.
The feeling stays with him, like the burn of spicy food on his tongue after a meal, for longer than he expects, a lingering high that slows his brain until he blinks the world back into focus, opens his eyes to see Liam staring at him in the dim light. Niall licks his lips and Liam’s eyes follow the movement, so Niall curls his mouth into a slow grin for Liam’s benefit, then leans in for another kiss for his own. It’s different now, the opposite of frantic, and Niall savors it, the ease of it, the way that Liam just lets Niall kiss him, warm and undemanding. Niall could sleep for days now, it feels like. God, that was satisfying.
The kiss comes to an end in its own time, both of them smiling by the finish of it, Liam’s grin bashful and sweet. “You can sleep here,” Liam says, because of course that’s what Liam says.
Niall nods, taking one of Liam’s hands in his and pulling it up so he can kiss Liam’s knuckles. The bunks are tiny, and it’ll probably get real uncomfortable sooner rather than later, but Niall’s still riding the wave, and he’s content to drift into sleep with Liam up close. “I might go back to mine if I can’t sleep,” Niall says, just to be fair. Liam nods, understanding, and together they shuffle out of their clothes, both happy to discard their rather uncomfortable pants, finally getting naked after all that. Liam forces a pair of boxers on him, slipping on a pair of his own as well, and Niall concedes for the sake of maintaining the relaxation and actually getting to sleep.
“You want to be the little spoon?” Liam asks, like it’d be a privilege. Niall grins at him, because it is, and shuffles around. He manages not to sigh happily at the feeling of Liam all pressed against his back, but then Liam hugs him around the waist and kisses the back of his neck, and the happy sigh can’t really be helped. So Niall closes his eyes, and lets himself enjoy it.
-
Zayn and Liam end up being pulled into one interview the next morning while Niall handles another with Harry and Louis, which is fortunate because Niall’s crap at resisting the urge to touch what he knows he has permission to. Niall and Liam were careful - well, careful-ish - well, values of careful which included Niall snuggling down onto Liam’s shoulder for some extra shut-eye on the way to do press - not to make it too obvious what’d happened the night before, but still, it’s probably good to have a minute away to evaluate previous events and not give into the urge to attack Liam and leave a nice big mark on his neck so everyone in the world can know that there are people who will let Niall bite them, and moreover do it happily. Well, not that there aren’t probably stacks of fangirls (and maybe fanboys, who knows?) who wouldn’t mind Niall sinking his teeth in. At least they never ask for that. Niall feels sorry for Robert Pattinson again.
Niall tries not to look as well-fucked as he feels, but Louis stills narrows his eyes at Niall, giving him a thorough once over once they’re off the bus that makes Niall fight the urge to cover himself with both hands, even though he’s fully dressed. Louis’s got on a shirt with red stripes today, and red pants too. He should look like Where’s Waldo, but instead the red makes his eyes stand out bluer than usual, and his smiles are slow, so he just looks like some kind of stripey sex demon. There’s a rasp in his voice too, which likely no one else would catch who wasn’t in the band as well and didn’t have to listen to Louis every day. Niall’s heard it before, but this day is the first that he’s realized it’s probably from getting his throat fucked.
Harry’s talking, answering a question about the fans, and he’s taking his sweet time about it. Niall lets his mind drift. He’s staring at Harry, not really seeing him, so it’ll probably show up later on camera looking like he’s utterly enchanted by Harry’s appreciation for the fans and/or the way his mouth moves when he talks.
Louis slips an arm around Niall’s waist, curling his fingers around Niall’s hip. It’s a manful effort for Niall not to startle away, but he stays still, keeps on gazing Harry’s way. Louis’s never picked on Niall much, not the way he’s always after Liam, so Niall figured he was due one of these days. He keeps his eyes focused even as Louis starts to pet his hip, just outside of the camera’s range (he thinks, anyway), then curls his knuckles so it’s more of a slow stroke over Niall’s hipbone. Louis’ littlest finger slips under Niall’s waistband, then, like it’s just discovered there are other places to explore. Then it’s joined by Louis’ ring finger, then his middle finger, all slipping back to stroke over the side of Niall’s arse. It feels good, so Niall doesn’t try to stop him, even though Louis is doing it so slowly that it seems he expects Niall to do so at any moment. He’s surprised Harry hasn’t noticed, actually, since Louis could just as easily reach over another inch and tap Harry’s waist.
Having wrapped up his answer about fans (which he somehow turned into a treatise on the nature of Twitter vs. other social media platforms), Harry turns to Niall and Louis, raising his eyebrows. The interviewer turns to them as well, after a polite, “That was very interesting, Harry, thank you.”
“Harry is a very interesting boy,” Louis says gravely. He’s slid his hand further to the center of Niall’s back now, fingers still pushed down Niall’s trousers a bit, rubbing at the base of his spine. Harry glances down, eyes caught by the motion, but admirably maintains his poker face.
“Yes,” the interviewer agrees. “I hear that you two are very close, aren’t you, you and Harry? The fans really love your relationship.”
Niall grins, and before either of them has a chance to say anything, comments, “They are very close, it’s true.” He winks at the interviewer, and puts one hand on each of their knees. “But as you can see,” he says, leaning conspiratorially in, “I’ve come between them.”
-
“Bold move in there, Horan,” Harry says afterward, eyeing Niall from across the table at the studio where they’re waiting for Zayn and Liam to finish up.
Niall finishes his bite of croissant from the craft services table, licking the crumbs from his fingertips. “Fortune favors the bold,” he says.
“And what kind of favors might you be seeking, little Niall?” asks Louis. He’s leaning against Harry on the couch across from the one Niall’s sitting on, at least as much as he dares with all the people milling about. Harry’s got his arm around Louis’s shoulders, the sort of thing that looks friendly to outsiders but which Niall knows is one of Harry’s many little reclaiming rituals he goes through whenever Louis’s done something to make him jealous. Niall loves them both to pieces, but they are so goddamned weird.
Niall takes a contemplative sip of his tea. It needs another sugar. He frowns at it, then looks back up when Harry clears his throat, prompting him to answer. “Well,” Niall says, letting the moment stretch out. They can damn well wait a minute after all the torment they’ve put him through. Besides, who cares if they say no? Niall’s got Liam now. “What favors are on offer?” he asks, savoring the question like the echoes of butter in his mouth from that croissant.
“You’re serious,” says Harry. “Aren’t you?”
Niall nods.
The pauses stretches between the three of them, taut and ready to snap. Louis licks his lips.
The studio door crashes open with enough force that Niall jumps like he’s been shot. Liam and Zayn burst through it triumphantly.
“Interview’s finished!” Liam announces.
“We were great!” says Zayn, pumping a fist in the air.
Paul follows and, after shooting them an aggrieved look, tells Niall, Harry, and Louis, “All future Starbucks orders go only up to a Venti. Trenta is no longer an option.”
“I’m never going to sleep again,” Zayn exclaims, and falls onto the couch next to Niall, grinning at him wide and more than a little manic. He pulls Niall into a hug, and Niall goes. He’s probably just imagining that he can feel Zayn vibrating. Probably.
Liam joins them, sitting on Niall’s other side and wrapping his arms around Niall’s waist. “Hiiiiiii,” he sings into Niall’s ear. It tickles.
Across from them, Harry and Louis stare with identical raised eyebrows.
Niall shrugs, sits back, and lets himself be cuddled.
-
“You know,” Louis says at the show some hours later, arching up to whisper into Harry’s ear as Niall sits on the arm of the couch, “I didn’t know that Niall here was actually up for it. Did you? I thought we were just going to teach him a lesson about eavesdropping.”
“I had a feeling,” Harry says, shrugging. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
“I am not now, nor have I ever been, a quiet one,” Niall interjects. They look over at him, surprised. “What? You can’t just sit there and talk about me forever and expect me never to talk back.”
“Yeah,” says Zayn, leaning over Louis from where he’s sitting on Louis’s other side. “It isn’t polite. You filthy creatures.”
“Nothing filthy at all about having a sex drive,” Harry says. “It’s perfectly natural.”
Liam walks back and forth in front of them, extolling the virtues of their fans. Niall admires his ability to do it and always say different things. He also admires Liam’s arse.
“Right, there’s nothing wrong with one boy wanting to bend another boy over the arm of a couch and fuck him ’til he can’t walk straight,” says Louis. “Nothing at all.”
There isn’t, Louis is right about that. Niall gets up off the arm of the couch anyway and goes to join Zayn, liking Zayn’s willingness to defend Niall’s honor and virtue. Halfway there Louis grabs at him, but his attack is foiled by Zayn’s sudden arm around Niall’s waist. Niall lands on Zayn’s lap with a little “oof” sound.
“Oh good,” says Louis. “Time for a lapdance. I knew you wanted him.”
“What if I do?” Niall says. He puts a hand on Zayn’s thigh to steady himself, and then leaves it there just for the sake of it. “I’d bet Zayn’s a great shag, I wouldn’t mind finding out.”
“That so?” asks Harry, giving Niall an admiring look from his face to the splay of his legs on Zayn’s lap.
“Yeah,” Niall says. He squeezes Zayn’s thigh, and Zayn’s hand covers his. “You’re right, I’d let Zayn fuck me. At least he wouldn’t be a tease about it.” He’s a little scared to look back at Zayn’s face, see how he’s taking all this, but not very scared. He can play this off like it’s joking, like he’s just trying to get back at Harry and Louis. Zayn slips his arm around Niall’s waist, pulling him back into Zayn’s body, and Niall exhales.
“What about you and Liam, though?” Louis asks, like it’s nothing at all, not even an important question.
Niall goes still. “What do you know about me and Liam?”
-
These conversations really have to stop happening onstage. Niall spends the rest of the set paranoid and avoiding Harry and Louis, who do their best to still prowl around him like big creeps. Louis still manages to smack Niall’s arse more than three times but less than four; one may have been classifiable as a grope instead. Niall finds solace in Liam’s unhesitant company, and sticks close to his side, crooning his feelings into Liam’s face until Liam’s smile starts to feel too sincere and sparkly, and then Niall feels guilty about whatever he just said about Zayn while Zayn was listening in on account of him being Niall’s chosen chair. Something about fucking. Niall’s trying not to think about it too much.
Nerves buzz through his blood ever louder until he feels like a pinball bouncing around the stage set, pushing himself off of Harry and bumping into Liam, forward into the faces of the crowd until the edge of the stage sends him abruptly back. He stumbles a bit and Louis is there to catch him, leaning in lightning quick and whispering, “Careful, darling,” his lips brushing Niall’s ear. Louis gets his hands on Niall’s hips, placed low, and then pushes him forward again. Niall lets his body follow orders, trusting Louis to propel him somewhere safe - trusting him, always, all of them, no matter how confusing things might get - and he finishes the song in the center of the stage, taking what the audience offers and giving back his best.
The show ends and adrenaline carries them on through to the dressing room. Liam slings a triumphant arm around Niall’s waist, laughing against him, and Niall laughs too, at nothing in particular. It was a good show. Sexual tension, resolved and otherwise, seems to work for them.
“I want to go out!” Louis announces. “I feel all loved up, how about the rest of you? I could dance for hours.”
“Have to learn how first,” says Harry, giving Louis a wide grin, and Louis squawks, offended, holding a hand to his presumably wounded heart. He extends the other to Niall.
“Sweet Niall, may I have this dance, seeing as my love has so forsaken me?” Louis asks, all tragic Bambi eyes, and Niall giggles helplessly, sketching a bow before taking his hand and letting Louis pull him into a clumsy waltz. Both of them try to lead, so they just end up stepping on each other’s feet. It’s all right, though, Niall can’t think of any dance he’s enjoyed more. Next to them Harry’s pulled Liam into the middle of a strange dance with Zayn, but none of them really know what they’re doing so they’re just sort of caging Liam in and wiggling around him.
Inspired, Niall leads Louis backward, pulling him into a twirl and dipping him dramatically, holding it as Louis blinks up at them all from upside down. Zayn bursts into laughter. “Well lads,” says Niall, “I think I agree with my partner here. Night out?”
“Night out,” Liam agrees, and that’s that.
-
“So,” says Zayn, three drinks deep and with Niall handily cornered in the booth they’ve commandeered. “What is it with you and Liam, then? What was Louis talking about onstage, before you ran away?” Ran away might be stretching things; Niall would have classified it as more of a graceful scamper.
“Me and Liam,” Niall muses. A whiskey ago he might have tried evasive maneuvers, but his Jameson’s been off the rocks for a bit now, secrets are boring, and he can’t be fucked, personally. Still: “I don’t know, really. All the teasing going on, he got concerned. Wanted to make sure I was all right with it. I told him I was lonely.” Niall wrinkles his nose at how maudlin he sounds, but it’s the truth, so whatever. “He wanted to fix it, so I let him. With tongues,” Niall clarifies, when Zayn continues looking confused.
“Oh,” Zayn says. He takes another drink, then another. The ice clinks in his glass, melting slowly. “Are you two going to be a couple, then? Like Harry and Louis are?”
“God no,” Niall says, then instantly begins to backtrack at the look on Zayn’s face. “Not that I wouldn’t date Liam -“
“That’s good!” Zayn says, looking quite outraged at any implied shading of Liam’s dateability. “You would be lucky to date Liam! Anyone would! You’re not leading the poor man on, are you?”
“Of course not!” Niall insists. “I just meant, you know, I don’t want to be tied down.” Niall swallows, and it’s probably the drinks, it must be, because usually thinking the words ‘tied down’ doesn’t flash him instantly to mental - not even images, god, it’s like he could feel rope around his wrists, bound behind his back on a bed, could see Zayn and Liam and oh fuck, Harry and Louis looking down at him, ready to touch him. “By a relationship,” Niall finishes.
This conversation, and evening, has gotten away from him. He wishes that the other three would come back, even though that would probably just make his life more difficult. They’re still up by the bar, though, Harry and Louis grinding up on a giggling Liam. Well, looks like Liam isn’t overly invested in being exclusive either. Zayn follows Niall’s gaze. He looks only mildly surprised at what he’s seeing.
“This is like prison,” says Zayn. “We’ve all turned gay for each other. It was inevitable.”
“I don’t think you can turn gay,” Niall says, frowning.
Zayn rolls his eyes. “Okay, Harold, you know what I mean. Discovered the secret non-heterosexual parts of us that have been waiting there all along, ready for us to all join a boy band and then have some serious questions about ourselves.”
As if summoned by the prospect of badly-phrased sexual identity questioning, Harry reappears at the table in a burst of curls and overflowing shot glasses. “What are we discussing, boys?” he asks, pushing shots in front of each of them. Niall casts a skeptical eye at the shot glasses. They’re filled with something in a quite confrontational shade of green, and topped with what appears to be whipped cream. “They’re called Horny Leprechaun shots,” Harry announces. “They’re in honor of you, Niall. Because you’re from Ireland.”
“Am I?” Niall asks, raising a hand to his heart in shock.
“And because we want to bang you,” Louis says, climbing into the booth and shoving himself against Niall’s side.
“Do you?” Niall asks, faintly and with markedly less sarcasm. An arm slips round his shoulders, and Niall’s surprised to realize that it’s Zayn. The touch makes him feel abruptly bereft, having never kissed Zayn’s mouth before. It’s closer than usual, they’re closer than usual, and the fact that it’s more than he’s used to should be enough. It isn’t, though. More isn’t enough anymore. He wants everything.
“All those things you said onstage before,” Zayn asks, his thumb on Niall’s chin, tipping it up so he has to look Zayn in the eye, “did you mean them?”
Niall nods. From the corner of his vision he can see Liam rejoin them, standing next to Harry on the outside of the table, all of them watching him and Zayn.
“Say them again,” Zayn says. “Say them to me.”
“I want,” Niall stops, licking his lips. His fingers curl around the shot glass, and he looks away from Zayn, takes the shot and lets the sugary Midori burn of it ground him. He closes his eyes for a moment but all it does is let him imagine what it’d be like, all of them watching him, like this but somewhere else. Somewhere with just the five of them. He looks back at Zayn. “I want you to fuck me. I think I’d like it.”
Harry reaches across the table, covers Niall’s hand with his own. “How about the rest of us? You want me and Louis, too? And Liam?”
“Yeah,” Niall says. He clears his throat, chokes out: “Yeah, why not?”
“See, this is what happens when you guys fool around onstage,” says Liam, giving Harry and Louis a look that still manages to seem stern, even though he’s blushing and tugging at his collar. “Things spiral.”
-
They’re on a different couch, this time, not one with with fifteen thousand people in front of them, which is nice. Niall’s sprawled out in the middle, with Zayn’s head on his lap and Harry pushed up against his side, watching Louis and Liam dancing in front of them, grinding lazily to Frank Ocean on the hotel room’s iPod dock. Niall’s slowed his rushing heart with rum, little bottles from the minibar tipped over into glasses of Coke. It should be frantic, maybe, all of them needing to make a move, but instead it’s the opposite, savoring the lead-up, knowing where it’ll all end. Niall rubs his fingertips gently against the short hair at the base of Zayn’s neck, no intent but the joy of it.
“Now, you think?” says Louis, and Niall nods, mostly to himself, because there they go. Zayn digs his fingers into Niall’s thigh, and Harry looks up from his position against Niall’s side to press his mouth to Niall’s throat, then his jaw. Louis touches his hand to Liam’s cheek, says, “You’ve had a taste already, haven’t you? Why don’t you show us what he likes?”
Liam swallows, nods, and then Zayn slips his fingers up, cups the bulge in Niall’s trousers and starts to undo his flies. Niall shifts his hips up into it, loosing a helpless moan, and Harry grins against his jaw. “Yeah, that’s it,” says Harry. Niall follows the sound of his voice to his mouth, catching it in a kiss. It’s easier that way, easier to focus when he’s got his eyes closed and Harry’s tongue in his mouth, insistent but not forceful, somehow both sweet and dirty at once and so perfectly Harry. He doesn’t have to choose who to look at, he can just feel and listen, isolating the sounds of kissing (not just him and Harry, it must be Louis and Liam as well), the sound of knees thudding to the ground, hands on his legs spreading them so - Liam? Yes, Liam, Louis wouldn’t be so strangely gentle - can rest between. Hands tug at his trousers and pants and Niall lifts his hips, helping them get him undressed, a community effort that ends when Harry drags his shirt all the way up and pushes him back so he can slip it all the way off over his head.
“If you have any requests,” Louis says, his hand already on the back of Liam’s head, guiding Liam toward Niall’s dick, “please feel free to say something. Otherwise we’ll just have our way with you.”
“That sounds fine,” Niall says, his voice breaking in the middle when Liam flicks his tongue out to lick at the head of Niall’s cock. “Just - tell me first.” Liam takes him in deeper, inch by inch, carefully enough that Niall thinks this might be his first time doing this, and Niall adores him, suddenly, for being willing to go in on this. For not stopping them, for wanting this too. He couldn’t do it, he thinks, if Liam wasn’t there. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“Like a warning?” Harry asks. “In case we want something you don’t?” He taps his fingertips slowly down Niall’s chest to his stomach, pressing in where he can feel bone, like he’s mapping Niall out, getting the lay of the land. Zayn mirrors him, his hand a little colder than Harry’s, his touch a little lighter. It’s a lot of sensation, those touches contrasted with the wet heat of Liam’s mouth around the length of Niall’s cock, taking in more each time he goes down. Liam rests his hands on Niall’s inner thighs, keeping him spread and anchored, and Niall strokes his fingers over Liam’s knuckles, pushes until Liam spreads his fingers and Niall can hold his hand.
Niall shakes his head, but he doesn’t need to go into it. Already Louis is grinning at him from where he’s sitting on the floor next to Liam with his hand on the back of Liam’s neck, absently caressing. “Like narration,” Louis says, delight evident in his voice. “I think we were onto something, Harry,” he says, squeezing Harry’s knee. “He likes the dirty talk, this one.”
“Talk to me,” Niall says. He reaches out, gets a hand around the back of Louis’ neck, and looks him in the eye. Louis lets his mouth fall open a bit, the tiniest gasp emerging. The motion sends Niall’s cock deeper into Liam’s throat, and he inhales sharply at the feeling.
Louis nods, the motion small enough that it doesn’t dislodge Niall’s hand on him. “We’re going to take you to bed,” Louis says.
Liam pulls off of Niall’s dick, holding it firmly in his fist. “I’m going to kiss you,” he says. “A lot.”
“You’re a bastion of filth,” Louis says to Liam, helping him pull Niall up off the couch. “Really, get yourself under control.”
“I’m going to fuck you,” Zayn says to Niall. Niall means to nod, but then he’s up and standing, and it seems his body wants to sway into Zayn’s, so he lets it. He kisses Zayn, his naked body pressed to Zayn’s still mostly clothed one, and it’s hotter than it has any right to be, the press and drag of the buttons of Zayn’s shirt against Niall’s bare chest, the rough rub of denim against Niall’s naked thighs and cock.
“There we go,” says Louis. “Gold star, Zayn.”
“I want a gold star,” says Harry, moving up against Niall’s back and biting at the side of his neck. “Niall, I’d like to see you suck my cock, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Niall pulls away from Zayn’s kiss to laugh a bit. Of course Harry’s polite about it. He’s a nice boy. “I don’t think I’d mind, no,” Niall says, and lets the wave of hands and quiet laughter guide him to the bed, to lie down in the center. “I wouldn’t mind if everyone else got their kit off, either,” he says, casting a significant look around at his far too clothed best mates.
Liam gets fully disrobed first, and keeps his promise, lying down next to Niall and pulling him into a much sweeter kiss than Niall ever would have expected to get in a five-way. There’s a lot going on around them, the bed moving as everyone else gets undressed, but Liam’s kiss grounds Niall, focuses him. This is the first time Niall’s ever been completely naked with another guy, and even though the circumstances are significantly more complicated than just that, Niall still takes the moment to appreciate it, the way that Liam’s body feels against his, hard cock and muscled torso. Liam could hold him down, Niall realizes, and swallows, suddenly enamored with the idea of it, Liam getting him on his back and holding onto his wrists, pounding into his arse. Niall has some interests to explore, he’s getting that. And he can, maybe, with all of them. Fuck, that’s thrilling.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” says Zayn, his voice edged with impatience, coming from where he’s lain behind Niall. Niall tries to pull back from Liam, but Liam won’t let him, following his mouth until Niall’s spooned back up against Zayn’s body, Zayn’s hand running up and down his side, attempting to drag him over. “Me,” Zayn says insistently, and Niall can’t help laughing a little, breaking the kiss even as Liam makes a little grumpy sound. He barely gets in a breath before Zayn’s touching his face, turning him to the side so he can take what he wants.
“Everyone’s hot,” Louis observes. Niall’s pretty occupied by Zayn kissing him with great authority, like he’s trying to show Niall why he should always be listened to when he’s demanding, but Niall thinks that must be Louis’ hand on his hip, knuckling down to the curve of his arse. “We should have tried this sooner, I like it.”
“It is nice,” Harry agrees. “Lots of limbs, though.” Niall flails a hand out, and Harry takes it, pulling him up and away from Zayn. “Niall, how about you kiss me? Then maybe Zayn fucks you? I think we’d all like to see that.”
“Good,” says Niall, still greedily taking in breaths after all those kisses. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Harry says triumphantly. “My favorite word.” He leans in, grabs at Niall’s arse, and kisses him, both of them up on their knees.
“Hot,” Louis says again, less distantly this time. Niall reaches over, knowing he’s close, and touches Louis’ shoulder, then his chest, then down and down until he finds Louis’ cock and circles his fingers around it, getting a good grip. “All right then,” Louis gasps, thrusting forward into Niall’s fist as Niall gives his all to that kiss with Harry. There are hands on Niall’s back, warm unceasing touches, and Niall settles into it, relaxing.
“I want to get you ready, Niall,” Liam murmurs against Niall’s shoulder, and Niall moves into the touch, shivering when Liam’s words transition into kisses warm on his skin. “Can I?”
“Yeah, yeah,” says Niall, and then Liam’s up, going to get what they need. Zayn takes the opportunity to move in, kneeling up behind Niall and wrapping his arms around Niall’s waist. He takes Niall’s cock in his hand and kisses his neck, scraping his teeth along the bumps of Niall’s spine and murmuring his name. It distracts him from the kiss he’d gone back into with Harry, and then Zayn touches his arse, parting his cheeks to rest of the length of his cock between them, and Niall shivers, tipping his head back onto Zayn’s shoulder and letting himself feel it. He’s going to get fucked, oh god, Zayn’s going to fuck him and he wants it so, so badly. Zayn’s all pressed up against his back, so hot and close but not close enough, not when he could be closer, be inside.
“Ever done this before?” Louis asks, voice light as anything, like he’s asking if Niall’s ever been to a particular shop, or played a certain game of cards. Niall realizes he’s stopped touching Louis on account of he’s got both of his hands digging into Zayn’s thighs behind him, anchoring himself in place as he grinds back into Zayn’s cock between his cheeks. He wasn’t aware that he was sensitive - well, there. Being fucked had been an abstract idea before this, a theory of a practice, a postcard of a painting. He’d never even tried anything on his own, fingers or anything. Niall feels himself flush at the very thought of it, touching himself that way.
“No,” Niall says.
“We’ll be careful with you,” Liam says, rejoining them on the bed. “Well, I will, anyhow.” Niall looks over at him, and Liam takes the opportunity to kiss him, his mouth warm and insistent.
“I will too,” says Zayn, sounding vaguely insulted.
“No need to fight over him, boys,” Louis says, amused. “I think there’s enough of him to go around.”
Niall breaks away from Liam’s kiss to look at Louis and remind him, “Talk to me.”
“I can’t help myself,” Louis says, folding his arms and looking mildly foolish doing it, hard and naked and rebellious as he is. “You’ll have to forcefully shut me up.”
“You are a passive-aggressive nutter,” Niall tells him, and shifts over to Louis’ side of the bed, straddles Louis’ waist, and kisses him right on his stupid mouth.
“Liam’s going to finger you now,” Harry says from somewhere close to Niall’s ear, and Niall mumbles his assent against Louis’ lips, chasing his tongue and slipping his hand downward to press against Louis’ lower back and get him closer. Liam needs no further prompting, thank god, because then Niall feels hands on him again, Louis gripping his arse and spreading him open, Liam’s fingers wet and circling his hole, just rubbing there, getting him used to the feeling. Niall pushes back into it, done with waiting; it feels like he’s been hard for ages, most of his life, actually, and he’s ready for the chatting to conclude and the fucking to begin. Liam slides one finger in, slow and careful, and Niall shudders.
“All right?” Liam asks. Niall tries to nod while still kissing Louis; it doesn’t really work, but Liam must get his acquiescence, because he starts to work that finger in and out of Niall’s body. It feels good - it feels really fucking good, why hasn’t Niall tried this before? - being caught like this, Louis’ mouth on his, Liam gradually working another finger in, Harry and Zayn caging him in with hands on Niall’s thighs and shoulders, keeping him spread. He should feel trapped, maybe, nervous, but instead he just feels oddly safe, tended to, like they’re giving him something rather than preparing to take him. Zayn digs his fingertips into Niall’s thigh, and Niall gasps and something about it opens him up, lets him relax into the thrust of Liam’s fingers, accepting them all the way up in him until he can feel Liam’s knuckles nudging the edge of his hole. He can’t breathe, then, has to pull away from Louis and lean back into it, shifting his arse back and bouncing a little, fucking himself on Liam’s fingers.
“Now,” Niall suggests. He grasps his own cock, holding it tightly and trying to stave off coming before he even gets a cock in him. “Tell me.”
Zayn moves in immediately. “Me first, yeah?” he asks. “I want to fuck you first.”
“You first,” Niall agrees. Liam takes his fingers out, and Niall looks Louis in the eye, then Harry, both of them watching hungrily as Zayn gets into position behind him, Niall still up on his knees. Then Zayn’s lining his cock up against the crack of Niall’s arse, firm and stroked wet with lube, nudging the head against his hole and pushing, pushing for a moment before Niall breathes out and it goes right in, pushes inside him. He can’t hide the look on his face, knows they can see him struggling to adjust to it. Ha, and Harry and Louis had been all about thinking Niall was the one who wanted to watch. Couple of secret voyeurs, they are, judging by the way they reach for each other’s dicks at the same time, not even bumping hands, just going unerringly in to stroke each other. It’s cute in a way that Niall doesn’t think mutual handjobs generally are.
Zayn takes it slow, slow enough that Niall gets impatient and forces himself to relax back into it, breathing out and feeling Zayn’s cock slide deeply into him until there’s no further it can go, and he’s straddling Zayn’s lap, thighs splayed around him, his back to Zayn’s chest. Zayn slips an arm around his waist, scrapes his teeth along Niall’s neck and says, “Fuck, you feel amazing,” his voice rough. He holds Niall in place, his cock fucked deep in Niall’s body until it’s too much, and Niall has to move or he’s going to expire on the spot, fucked to death on his first go-round.
“You also look amazing,” Liam says, a little choked, and Niall lolls his head lazily to the side, grins at Liam, who’s got a hand on his cock as well, stroking himself as he watches them, looking over their joined bodies like he can hardly choose a place to focus on for more than a second. Niall doesn’t say it, but he’s grateful they’re letting them enjoy it like this, letting him take Zayn in without demanding anything more than the privilege of watching. Because they know they’ll get their shot, Niall realizes suddenly, and flushes all the way down his chest at the thought of it, them knowing that they can have him, not just tonight but any night. This is the start of something, and Niall thinks it’s been building for even longer than he was aware of it.
Zayn starts to thrust in harder, bouncing Niall up and down on his cock, their skin slapping together, harsh fucking sounds as Niall strokes himself and moans. He’s not quite frantic, not there yet though he thinks Zayn might be close, his movements getting faster, his breaths coming more quickly. Niall swallows, groans, “Liam, you next,” and that must be what does it for Zayn, because he digs his fingers into Niall’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him in place as he grinds his cock up into Niall’s arse, coming deep inside him.
“You sure?” Liam asks, but he’s already helping Zayn lift him up, manhandling him over onto Liam’s lap, like they’re passing him around to get fucked, oh god. Niall doesn’t think they expect him to let Harry and Louis in too, not his first time, but the thought makes him stroke himself a little faster, that he might be ready for that someday, might want it. All of them lining up to fuck him, one after the after, all the focus on him. Niall could handle it, he wants to learn to take all of them.
“Yeah,” says Niall, and Liam touches his chest, his collarbone, his cheek, angling his face so he can give Niall a kiss. It’s long and sweet, and Liam doesn’t pull away from it before setting his cock to Niall’s wet hole and pushing in, the way slick with Zayn’s come in him already. It hadn’t hurt before, not really, but Liam’s cock is a little bigger, thicker, and it stretches him further, making him squirm back into it, trying to adjust.
“You should see yourself,” Louis says, watching Niall through half-lidded eyes. He looks Niall up and down, not just like he can see Niall’s body but like he see right through him as well, into his mind and soul, like he can see what Niall’s thinking and he thinks it’s filthy and loves Niall anyway. Even loves him because Niall’s so filthy. “You like this, don’t you? All our attention on you, all of us looking at you, jerking ourselves off over you getting fucked.”
Niall nods, has to clear his throat before he can try to speak. Liam starts to fuck him, a slow push in and out of his sore, used arse, and Niall loses his breath again.
“You don’t have to answer him,” Harry says. “He just likes the sound of his own voice.” Louis gives Harry an irritated look and stops stroking his cock. “Hey, I like the sound of your voice also, I’m just saying.”
Ignoring them, Liam murmurs, “Is this okay?” into Niall’s ear. “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” Niall says. “Not in a bad way, though.” Liam’s going slowly, too slowly almost. Niall grabs his hand, places it on his own cock, and Liam starts to stroke him. He starts at a steady rhythm and matches it with his own thrusts, which is what Niall had hoped for. Niall closes his eyes, narrowing the field of sensations to Liam’s body pressed against his back, the slide of Liam’s cock into his arse, the sounds of Harry and Louis wanking each other, the light stroke of Zayn’s fingertips over his thigh, reminding Niall he’s still there. They’re all there, all watching him, all getting off because of him. They’re his, and he’s theirs, and he can have this, and suddenly Niall’s close, knowing that, that he can get what he wants and keep it. “Liam, please,” he whispers, and Liam speeds up his movements, fucking Niall harder, stroking him faster.
“Niall, I’m going to come on you,” Louis tells him, and Niall arches his back, spreads his thighs out, offering his body up for it.
“Fuck,” Harry swears, and then he’s crowding closer too, both him and Louis switched to jacking themselves now, until they come, one after the other, onto Niall’s thighs, his groin, striping Liam’s hand on his cock and making each stroke easier.
They’re all on him, all of them - their come on his skin, inside his arse. That’s the thought that finally lets Niall finish, shoving his hips back and clenching down on Liam’s dick inside him. “Oh god,” Liam groans, and loses his rhythm, just holding onto Niall’s cock as Niall thrusts up into his grip, splattering him with more come. He does it again, and again, coaxing Liam’s climax out of him, grinding back onto his cock until Liam can’t help but come deep in him, his teeth barely digging into Niall’s shoulder, just enough to redden the skin.
Niall’s shaking, hadn’t realized he was shaking until their hands were all on him again, petting him, smearing the come on his skin and helping guide him up off Liam’s body. He can feel come leaking out of his well-used arse, and it’s filthy in a way that he doesn’t hate, not at all, especially knowing that they can see it. It’s too much of an effort to hold himself up, so he doesn’t bother, just falls down onto his back on the bed. “Well,” he says, “all right then.”
“Good?” asks Liam, his eyes wide and hopeful when Niall looks up at him.
Niall smiles at him, can’t help it. “Good,” he confirms. Liam runs his fingers through the hair at the base of Niall’s neck, smiles back. Zayn’s already curled up alongside Niall’s body, and Harry joins him on the other side, sighing.
“That was some fantastic porn,” Louis notes, looking Niall over. “But what about us, then? We started this whole business, and then we had to get each other off, it was tragic. Misses the whole point of swinging if we don’t even swap wives.”
“We’re both the wife, don’t kid yourself,” Harry says, not even opening his eyes. Niall cards his fingers through Harry’s curls, and Harry nuzzles his chest, huffing out a happy little breath.
“You two teased me for ages,” Niall says, cracking one eye open to look at them. “You can wait until next time.”
“Ooh, next time,” Louis says, crawling up onto Niall’s naked body and sprawling out. “Are you saying this is more than just a one night stand, then? Are we all your boyfriends, now? Your sexual servants? Your slaves?” he asks, punctuating that last with a lick to Niall’s neck.
“Yep,” says Niall, arching his neck toward Louis in case he wants to keep on with it. Felt nice. Niall could get used to this. Zayn slings an arm around his waist, nudging Louis away so he can kiss at Niall’s shoulder. Niall can’t really get in a deep breath with all this weight on him, and he needs a shower. It’s fine, though.
Louis laughs a bit, but no one disagrees.
-
It’s a game, now. Louis and Harry are still the principle players, but they all like a spot of it here and there, always with an audience, whether it’s when they’re onstage or on a balcony waving to fans while taking breaks from recording, or on a red carpet, talking to the press about how excited they are to be seeing the sequel to 2010’s big huge summer blockbuster that Niall had to scrape together enough change to see in Mullingar. Louis and Harry will grin at each other and then both lean in to whisper to Niall, trading off in a filthy duet, Louis promising to fuck Niall hard while Harry pledges to suck his cock afterward. Zayn gets surprisingly creative, offering to do things like take Niall into an alley and get on his knees for him. Liam never quite gets the hang of it, but at least his offers of kisses are generally followed through on, often with great immediacy, and he rarely stops at kissing, no matter where they are. He’s a bit of a freak for actual public sex, though he doesn’t talk much about it. More of an action guy. Niall appreciates that, but then he appreciates all of them, in their own ways.
Niall gets in on it too, sometimes, telling them what’s on his mind . But mostly, he just listens. Mostly, he just smiles and says yes.
Title: Fuck With You
Author: cyclogenesis
Fandom: One Direction
Pairing: OT5 (Niall/Harry/Louis/Liam/Zayn)
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Harry and Louis talk dirty. Niall talks back.
Notes: This LJ's for fic, I mostly post on Tumblr!
Disclaimer: This is fiction.
Word Count: 10,313
“I think I’d like to bend you over this couch some night,” Louis says to Harry. “In front of everybody, all the fans watching, the boys watching. How’d you feel about that?”
Niall keeps his eyes straight forward, focused on the crowd in front of him. He tries not to even blink.
“I feel good,” Harry says, after taking a moment to really consider it. He’s got a hand resting on the back of the couch, and Niall watches as his fingers clench in it, like he wishes the leather were Louis’ skin. “Want to show everyone you own me, do you?”
“I show everyone that every day,” Louis says easily. Niall wants to lick his lips, licks his teeth instead, liking the wet scrape of it. It’s a bit rough, like he thinks Harry and Louis must be with each other. It sounds like they give it to each other pretty roughly anyway, from what Niall’s overheard. And Niall’s overheard a lot, they just don’t give a fuck, either of them. Niall’d be more bitter about it, but it’s been awhile since he’s had anything, a shag, a kiss even, and he needs something to think about while he’s wanking, even if it’s his bandmates. Niall’s not picky.
Harry takes the opportunity to come round to their side of the couch, bending down close so he can whisper in Louis’ ear. Only he doesn’t whisper, not really, because if it were a whisper then Niall wouldn’t be able to hear it so fucking clearly. “What d’you think about Niall, then? You think he’d like to watch as much as he likes listening?” He doesn’t even glance up at Niall, neither of them do. Niall stares into the crowd, trying to focus on what Liam is saying, something about how grateful they are to the fans, and the world, and - something. Who cares. It isn’t working.
“You want him to watch while I fuck you?” Louis asks. He tilts his head up, resting his fingertips against Harry’s cheek as he whispers. Niall’s too fucking hot in this cardigan. He wants to take the damn thing off. “You think he could handle it? We might have to bind him up in the corner. He’s too eager, he’d probably want in.”
Niall breaks then, just for a second. His fingers tremble, and the microphone wavers in his hand before he steadies it, trying not to drop it. He glances at them, helpless not to, but they’re not even looking at him. Of course they’re not. It’s like he’s not even there, though they obviously fucking know he is. Obviously. It’s cruel, is what it is, them knowing how long it’s been since he’s had a shag and still trying to fuck with him.
“He could come in,” Harry says. “I bet he’d let you fuck him, I bet he’d take it. From both of us, even. I think he’d look just lovely with your cock down his throat, don’t you?”
“I think I’d like to pull his hair,” Louis muses. Niall bites his lip. “Really fuck his mouth, you know? Choke him on it.”
Niall stands abruptly, takes over reading the tweets onscreen and drags Zayn into a totally pointless discussion regarding the question about what they had for dinner. If the pictures afterward show that he’s hard, well, whatever.
-
And of course Harry and Louis don’t even say anything about it afterward. Assholes.
-
Next show Niall tries to get between them a bit, show them they can’t fuck around with him. He takes any opportunity he can to sling an arm around Harry and even kisses Louis on the cheek, a nice show that sends the fans screaming. It just makes Louis get that look on his face, the one like he knows every vulnerable spot in Niall’s armour and he’s well ready to pierce him through with a lance, and it’s just as Niall’s picturing Louis as some sort of medieval knight that Louis leans in and says, “You’re just dying for it, aren’t you, sweetheart?” and then it’s an effort for Niall not to buckle under the force of that, sharper than anything Louis could ever wield, and meaner too.
Later in the show Niall pushes past it, gets back into the rhythm and sticks close to Liam and Zayn, who pull him in as ever with their easy grins and affection, never expecting anything but fond reciprocation.
During the last song Harry touches his waist as he passes by, leans in so quickly that Niall thinks there’s no way anyone’s caught it, and whispers, “Hello, darling.” Somehow, it’s crueler than anything Louis’s ever done.
-
They all go out afterward, to a club with a no camera policy. Everyone dances with girls, Harry and Louis included, except for Niall. He downs whiskey sours and relishes the sting, and lets Zayn pull him in for a little friend-on-friend grinding. Harry and Louis both manage to flash him filthy grins as they pass through the strobe-lit crowd, and Niall leans his face into the curve of Zayn’s neck and hates them.
-
“Gets around, doesn’t he?” Louis muses idly, and Niall, perched on the back of the couch, knows damn well who he’s referring to. Louis looks sidelong at Harry, right past Zayn and Liam on the couch, like they’re not there at all. “Did you see him, last night? Dancing up on Zayn? I think he’d give it up to anybody.”
Zayn flicks his eyes sideways, then up at Niall. Niall shrugs, hoping the blush isn’t rising too visibly on his cheeks.
“You calling our Nialler a slag?” Harry says. He smiles over at Niall, Niall can fucking feel it, that million watt grin directed his way. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. I don’t think he’d take it from quite anybody. He saves it up, he’s quite special that way. Like we don’t know what he really wants.”
Zayn’s looking at Liam now, who’s still oblivious, like he’ll be the one to stop all this. But no one will, of course.
“I think he wants all of us, frankly,” says Louis. “I think he wants anything he can get, he just doesn’t want to go to the effort of trying for it. Just wants it to fall right into his lap, doesn’t he? So he can roll over and take it. Lazy sod.”
“Bet he’d be tight, though,” Harry says, and that’s when Zayn opens his mouth, maybe to say something, anything.
They go into a song instead. Later Niall realizes his lip is so chapped from being bitten that it’s bleeding.
-
“What’s this game that Harry and Louis have on, anyway?” Zayn asks, backing Niall up against a wall. Niall goes, looking up at him. It’s probably the perpetual state of sexual frustration that’s got him focusing so much on Zayn’s mouth, on the way it moves. “Are the three of you having a - I don’t know what to call it. Is it a threeway?”
“No,” says Niall. “Nothing’s happened.”
“Then why are they talking so dirty?” Zayn asks, searching Niall’s face like he might find the answer there. “It’s fucking weird, isn’t it? They trying to pull you into some little sex game?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Niall says. It’s hard to stand here, Zayn so close to him, and not move into it, move into the warmth of Zayn’s body. So Niall stops bothering, lets himself drift closer. “I kept hearing them talk to each other about all the ways they wanted to fuck, and then they started talking about me.” He’s off the wall now. He lets himself rest his forehead against Zayn’s shoulder, like he’s looking for comfort from the emotional trauma caused by his dirty-talking friends. “It’s weird. It was weird. Now it’s hot. Zayn, I’m frustrated,” he says, slipping a hand between Zayn’s shirt and letterman’s jacket, pressing his face to Zayn’s neck. It’s hotter than it would have been a week ago, before Harry and Louis started treating him like a toy to pass back and forth.
“I’ll talk to Liam,” Zayn says, kissing the side of Niall’s head. “He’ll make them stop.”
-
“So, stop picking on Niall,” Liam concludes, pulling Niall close. Niall burrows into the heat of Liam’s body, accepting the comfort. One of Liam’s curls tickles his nose, and Niall wants to know more. He lifts his other hand, touching Liam’s jaw and then winding one finger into a curl. It feels as pleasant as he thought it would. Liam’s so nice. Niall could stay here forever, protected from his mean bandmates and their sassy sex games.
“We’re just messing about,” Louis says, in a way that is not at all remotely penitent. “He just kept listening in, whenever we were talking to each other. Eavesdropping.”
“It’s not eavesdropping when you’re two feet away,” Niall protests. Liam winds his fingers into Niall’s hair, petting him into submission. “I couldn’t help it. You two don’t really need to be talking about fucking when we’re onstage anyway, some people can read lips you know.”
“Let them,” Harry says. “I’m not willing to sacrifice my turn-ons for an audience.”
“Good man,” says Louis. They high-five each other.
-
“I think it might be Liam that Niall wants fucking from,” Louis says, the next day, as Zayn and Liam are having a dance-off at the request of section 203, row Q, seat 11. Louis cranes his neck up, whispering it into Harry’s ear. Niall stares down at them, not even bothering anymore. “Did you see the way he curled into him last night? I think Liam’s cock would fix him up straight away.”
“I disagree,” states Harry, which is new. He’s got a hand around the back of Louis’ neck, which is old, but Niall watches anyway. “I think it’s Zayn he wants. Have you seen the way they hug each other? It’s one thrust away from obscenity.”
“Compromise is important in a relationship,” Louis says, leaning back to gaze up at Harry. “What say we agree that he wants to be fucked by the both of them? Doesn’t seem right to make a boy choose when he’s this desperate for cock.”
“Fair,” says Harry. “Maybe he just wants them both to fuck him at once? Don’t know how he could walk after that. He’d be awfully sore.”
It’s not really possible for Niall to hide his erection from the crowd after that, but he does at least sort of try.
-
Back on the bus Niall can’t stop thinking about it, what Harry said. It’d be terrible, wouldn’t it? It would hurt. He’s not like that, anyway, that’s the point, he’s not desperate for sex or anything. If that was the way he was, then he could go and get some, it wouldn’t be that difficult. Except what’s the point? Not that he’s a sap or anything, but it does help to know a person first. It helps to like them, and to trust them, and opportunities to meet people like that are thin on the ground when they’re out on tour. And they’re out on tour a lot.
Niall could get a girlfriend, maybe, or a boyfriend, but the idea of trying to keep up a relationship with his job sounds exhausting in a way that he’s not sure he could manage. He tries to imagine getting to a point with another person where he could act with them like he acts around the guys, someone he could just fall on and trust that they’d hold him up, but it sounds so distant as to be theoretical. The world is full of strangers; Niall likes the friends he already has.
He’s about to climb up in his bunk and mope about the state of all things when he hears the twitch open of a curtain and looks down to see Liam peering up from his own bunk. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re doing,” Liam says. “Can we have a chat?”
Niall tilts his head. “Sure,” he says. They’d exchanged banalities about the timing of bus call no more than an hour ago; Niall had been fine then, and nothing’s changed since. Still, he could do with a bit of talking about himself, especially what with everyone else talking about him lately. Be nice to get his own opinion on himself out in the open for once.
“Come in,” Liam says, gesturing for Niall to join him in a lie-down. That’s not too common, but Niall’s never one to turn down a cuddle, so he obligingly climbs in next to Liam, settling against his body and sighing out as he rests his head next to Liam’s on the pillow. Liam shuts the curtain and parts his legs a little, so Niall slips one between and lets his eyes flutter shut. “How are you?” Liam asks. “Are Harry and Louis still bothering you?”
“Yes,” Niall says. He shrugs, just the smallest movement, knowing Liam can feel it. “I think they get off on it or something. Well, I know they get off on the dirty talk, but I think they like dragging me into it. They’re saying all sorts of things now, they talk about you and Zayn too.”
Liam stiffens underneath him. “What, like they want to fuck us too? Good god, how kinky are they?”
Niall squeezes his eyes shut tight, filtering out all the light. “No, like they want you to fuck me. They think it’s what I want,” he adds quickly. His hipbone is about an inch from Liam’s dick, he realizes. He tries not to shift, then tries to relax. It doesn’t work. He squirms.
They’re so close that Niall can hear Liam swallow. “Is it?” Liam asks. His hand tenses at the base of Niall’s spine.
“I’m so hard up I’d settle for a kiss,” Niall says, trying for lightness in his tone. His voice trembles a little on the final word, and he can see it perfectly in his head, Liam grabbing him tightly round the waist, rolling them over, and pushing Niall right out of the bunk and onto his arse on the floor. Be what he deserves, probably. Who does that, anyway? Who spends too much time with their close friends and then essentially wants all of them? There must be something wrong with him. He can’t have the things he wants, it wouldn’t make sense that anybody could.
Liam grabs him by the waist, and Niall’s heart just about fucking stops for a second, but Liam just rolls them both onto their sides, so they’re facing each other. Niall’s back hits the wall, but Liam’s quick enough that he gets his hand up to cup the back of Niall’s head so it doesn’t bonk against the wall as well. The movement brings their faces close, and it’s nearly whispered against Niall’s mouth when Liam says, “You shouldn’t have to settle for anything. You should have what you need.”
Niall nods, because yeah, that’d sure be nice, and maybe Liam takes the movement as something else because he tilts his chin up and then their mouths are touching, a quick brush but not so quick that Niall can’t tell that it was deliberate. He breathes out, considers things for just a second, and then kisses Liam hard enough that Liam makes a surprised little noise against his mouth.
Liam clutches at him, tangling their legs together until Niall’s as close as he can get. It’s probably just because it’s been so long for Niall, but it seems like things get heated more quickly than they usually do. Pretty soon Niall’s got a hand on Liam’s thigh, nails digging into denim, and he’s hauling him in so they can better thrust against each other, since it seems that Niall’s already started doing that without even thinking about it. Then Liam’s just trying to keep up, gasping against Niall’s mouth when they part briefly for air. Niall doesn’t fuck around, he gets his hands up underneath Liam’s shirt and angles in to kiss him harder, biting gently at Liam’s lower lip and letting himself moan like he wants to. Feels good to let it out, to just be there with Liam’s mouth on his, Liam thrusting against him too, too little space to move much but they make it up by just grinding against each other.
It’s too hot in the enclosed space of the bunk, Niall can feel his cheeks flushing and each kiss is more suffocating than the last, until the world’s narrowed to just the swell of Liam’s lower lip between his teeth, the slide of Liam’s tongue in his mouth, the almost too hard pressure of Liam’s cock against his through their trousers. There’s so much friction that it’s riding the edge of pain, but Niall likes even that, likes the thought that he could suffer for this, suffer for what he wants and suffer in getting it. He digs his fingers into the curve of Liam’s waist and Liam grabs the back of his shirt, fisting it hard, and pulls abruptly away from Niall’s mouth, burying a cry against Niall’s shoulder and biting enough to get a mouthful of Niall’s shirt. That’s what does it for Niall, the thought that he could make Liam scream, that Liam had to hurt him a little just so he wouldn’t cry out loud; he presses himself against Liam’s hips as hard as he can and comes in his pants, throwing his head back hard enough that it hits the wall, pain crashing against the pleasure and sending him dizzy, reeling, from either or both.
The feeling stays with him, like the burn of spicy food on his tongue after a meal, for longer than he expects, a lingering high that slows his brain until he blinks the world back into focus, opens his eyes to see Liam staring at him in the dim light. Niall licks his lips and Liam’s eyes follow the movement, so Niall curls his mouth into a slow grin for Liam’s benefit, then leans in for another kiss for his own. It’s different now, the opposite of frantic, and Niall savors it, the ease of it, the way that Liam just lets Niall kiss him, warm and undemanding. Niall could sleep for days now, it feels like. God, that was satisfying.
The kiss comes to an end in its own time, both of them smiling by the finish of it, Liam’s grin bashful and sweet. “You can sleep here,” Liam says, because of course that’s what Liam says.
Niall nods, taking one of Liam’s hands in his and pulling it up so he can kiss Liam’s knuckles. The bunks are tiny, and it’ll probably get real uncomfortable sooner rather than later, but Niall’s still riding the wave, and he’s content to drift into sleep with Liam up close. “I might go back to mine if I can’t sleep,” Niall says, just to be fair. Liam nods, understanding, and together they shuffle out of their clothes, both happy to discard their rather uncomfortable pants, finally getting naked after all that. Liam forces a pair of boxers on him, slipping on a pair of his own as well, and Niall concedes for the sake of maintaining the relaxation and actually getting to sleep.
“You want to be the little spoon?” Liam asks, like it’d be a privilege. Niall grins at him, because it is, and shuffles around. He manages not to sigh happily at the feeling of Liam all pressed against his back, but then Liam hugs him around the waist and kisses the back of his neck, and the happy sigh can’t really be helped. So Niall closes his eyes, and lets himself enjoy it.
-
Zayn and Liam end up being pulled into one interview the next morning while Niall handles another with Harry and Louis, which is fortunate because Niall’s crap at resisting the urge to touch what he knows he has permission to. Niall and Liam were careful - well, careful-ish - well, values of careful which included Niall snuggling down onto Liam’s shoulder for some extra shut-eye on the way to do press - not to make it too obvious what’d happened the night before, but still, it’s probably good to have a minute away to evaluate previous events and not give into the urge to attack Liam and leave a nice big mark on his neck so everyone in the world can know that there are people who will let Niall bite them, and moreover do it happily. Well, not that there aren’t probably stacks of fangirls (and maybe fanboys, who knows?) who wouldn’t mind Niall sinking his teeth in. At least they never ask for that. Niall feels sorry for Robert Pattinson again.
Niall tries not to look as well-fucked as he feels, but Louis stills narrows his eyes at Niall, giving him a thorough once over once they’re off the bus that makes Niall fight the urge to cover himself with both hands, even though he’s fully dressed. Louis’s got on a shirt with red stripes today, and red pants too. He should look like Where’s Waldo, but instead the red makes his eyes stand out bluer than usual, and his smiles are slow, so he just looks like some kind of stripey sex demon. There’s a rasp in his voice too, which likely no one else would catch who wasn’t in the band as well and didn’t have to listen to Louis every day. Niall’s heard it before, but this day is the first that he’s realized it’s probably from getting his throat fucked.
Harry’s talking, answering a question about the fans, and he’s taking his sweet time about it. Niall lets his mind drift. He’s staring at Harry, not really seeing him, so it’ll probably show up later on camera looking like he’s utterly enchanted by Harry’s appreciation for the fans and/or the way his mouth moves when he talks.
Louis slips an arm around Niall’s waist, curling his fingers around Niall’s hip. It’s a manful effort for Niall not to startle away, but he stays still, keeps on gazing Harry’s way. Louis’s never picked on Niall much, not the way he’s always after Liam, so Niall figured he was due one of these days. He keeps his eyes focused even as Louis starts to pet his hip, just outside of the camera’s range (he thinks, anyway), then curls his knuckles so it’s more of a slow stroke over Niall’s hipbone. Louis’ littlest finger slips under Niall’s waistband, then, like it’s just discovered there are other places to explore. Then it’s joined by Louis’ ring finger, then his middle finger, all slipping back to stroke over the side of Niall’s arse. It feels good, so Niall doesn’t try to stop him, even though Louis is doing it so slowly that it seems he expects Niall to do so at any moment. He’s surprised Harry hasn’t noticed, actually, since Louis could just as easily reach over another inch and tap Harry’s waist.
Having wrapped up his answer about fans (which he somehow turned into a treatise on the nature of Twitter vs. other social media platforms), Harry turns to Niall and Louis, raising his eyebrows. The interviewer turns to them as well, after a polite, “That was very interesting, Harry, thank you.”
“Harry is a very interesting boy,” Louis says gravely. He’s slid his hand further to the center of Niall’s back now, fingers still pushed down Niall’s trousers a bit, rubbing at the base of his spine. Harry glances down, eyes caught by the motion, but admirably maintains his poker face.
“Yes,” the interviewer agrees. “I hear that you two are very close, aren’t you, you and Harry? The fans really love your relationship.”
Niall grins, and before either of them has a chance to say anything, comments, “They are very close, it’s true.” He winks at the interviewer, and puts one hand on each of their knees. “But as you can see,” he says, leaning conspiratorially in, “I’ve come between them.”
-
“Bold move in there, Horan,” Harry says afterward, eyeing Niall from across the table at the studio where they’re waiting for Zayn and Liam to finish up.
Niall finishes his bite of croissant from the craft services table, licking the crumbs from his fingertips. “Fortune favors the bold,” he says.
“And what kind of favors might you be seeking, little Niall?” asks Louis. He’s leaning against Harry on the couch across from the one Niall’s sitting on, at least as much as he dares with all the people milling about. Harry’s got his arm around Louis’s shoulders, the sort of thing that looks friendly to outsiders but which Niall knows is one of Harry’s many little reclaiming rituals he goes through whenever Louis’s done something to make him jealous. Niall loves them both to pieces, but they are so goddamned weird.
Niall takes a contemplative sip of his tea. It needs another sugar. He frowns at it, then looks back up when Harry clears his throat, prompting him to answer. “Well,” Niall says, letting the moment stretch out. They can damn well wait a minute after all the torment they’ve put him through. Besides, who cares if they say no? Niall’s got Liam now. “What favors are on offer?” he asks, savoring the question like the echoes of butter in his mouth from that croissant.
“You’re serious,” says Harry. “Aren’t you?”
Niall nods.
The pauses stretches between the three of them, taut and ready to snap. Louis licks his lips.
The studio door crashes open with enough force that Niall jumps like he’s been shot. Liam and Zayn burst through it triumphantly.
“Interview’s finished!” Liam announces.
“We were great!” says Zayn, pumping a fist in the air.
Paul follows and, after shooting them an aggrieved look, tells Niall, Harry, and Louis, “All future Starbucks orders go only up to a Venti. Trenta is no longer an option.”
“I’m never going to sleep again,” Zayn exclaims, and falls onto the couch next to Niall, grinning at him wide and more than a little manic. He pulls Niall into a hug, and Niall goes. He’s probably just imagining that he can feel Zayn vibrating. Probably.
Liam joins them, sitting on Niall’s other side and wrapping his arms around Niall’s waist. “Hiiiiiii,” he sings into Niall’s ear. It tickles.
Across from them, Harry and Louis stare with identical raised eyebrows.
Niall shrugs, sits back, and lets himself be cuddled.
-
“You know,” Louis says at the show some hours later, arching up to whisper into Harry’s ear as Niall sits on the arm of the couch, “I didn’t know that Niall here was actually up for it. Did you? I thought we were just going to teach him a lesson about eavesdropping.”
“I had a feeling,” Harry says, shrugging. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
“I am not now, nor have I ever been, a quiet one,” Niall interjects. They look over at him, surprised. “What? You can’t just sit there and talk about me forever and expect me never to talk back.”
“Yeah,” says Zayn, leaning over Louis from where he’s sitting on Louis’s other side. “It isn’t polite. You filthy creatures.”
“Nothing filthy at all about having a sex drive,” Harry says. “It’s perfectly natural.”
Liam walks back and forth in front of them, extolling the virtues of their fans. Niall admires his ability to do it and always say different things. He also admires Liam’s arse.
“Right, there’s nothing wrong with one boy wanting to bend another boy over the arm of a couch and fuck him ’til he can’t walk straight,” says Louis. “Nothing at all.”
There isn’t, Louis is right about that. Niall gets up off the arm of the couch anyway and goes to join Zayn, liking Zayn’s willingness to defend Niall’s honor and virtue. Halfway there Louis grabs at him, but his attack is foiled by Zayn’s sudden arm around Niall’s waist. Niall lands on Zayn’s lap with a little “oof” sound.
“Oh good,” says Louis. “Time for a lapdance. I knew you wanted him.”
“What if I do?” Niall says. He puts a hand on Zayn’s thigh to steady himself, and then leaves it there just for the sake of it. “I’d bet Zayn’s a great shag, I wouldn’t mind finding out.”
“That so?” asks Harry, giving Niall an admiring look from his face to the splay of his legs on Zayn’s lap.
“Yeah,” Niall says. He squeezes Zayn’s thigh, and Zayn’s hand covers his. “You’re right, I’d let Zayn fuck me. At least he wouldn’t be a tease about it.” He’s a little scared to look back at Zayn’s face, see how he’s taking all this, but not very scared. He can play this off like it’s joking, like he’s just trying to get back at Harry and Louis. Zayn slips his arm around Niall’s waist, pulling him back into Zayn’s body, and Niall exhales.
“What about you and Liam, though?” Louis asks, like it’s nothing at all, not even an important question.
Niall goes still. “What do you know about me and Liam?”
-
These conversations really have to stop happening onstage. Niall spends the rest of the set paranoid and avoiding Harry and Louis, who do their best to still prowl around him like big creeps. Louis still manages to smack Niall’s arse more than three times but less than four; one may have been classifiable as a grope instead. Niall finds solace in Liam’s unhesitant company, and sticks close to his side, crooning his feelings into Liam’s face until Liam’s smile starts to feel too sincere and sparkly, and then Niall feels guilty about whatever he just said about Zayn while Zayn was listening in on account of him being Niall’s chosen chair. Something about fucking. Niall’s trying not to think about it too much.
Nerves buzz through his blood ever louder until he feels like a pinball bouncing around the stage set, pushing himself off of Harry and bumping into Liam, forward into the faces of the crowd until the edge of the stage sends him abruptly back. He stumbles a bit and Louis is there to catch him, leaning in lightning quick and whispering, “Careful, darling,” his lips brushing Niall’s ear. Louis gets his hands on Niall’s hips, placed low, and then pushes him forward again. Niall lets his body follow orders, trusting Louis to propel him somewhere safe - trusting him, always, all of them, no matter how confusing things might get - and he finishes the song in the center of the stage, taking what the audience offers and giving back his best.
The show ends and adrenaline carries them on through to the dressing room. Liam slings a triumphant arm around Niall’s waist, laughing against him, and Niall laughs too, at nothing in particular. It was a good show. Sexual tension, resolved and otherwise, seems to work for them.
“I want to go out!” Louis announces. “I feel all loved up, how about the rest of you? I could dance for hours.”
“Have to learn how first,” says Harry, giving Louis a wide grin, and Louis squawks, offended, holding a hand to his presumably wounded heart. He extends the other to Niall.
“Sweet Niall, may I have this dance, seeing as my love has so forsaken me?” Louis asks, all tragic Bambi eyes, and Niall giggles helplessly, sketching a bow before taking his hand and letting Louis pull him into a clumsy waltz. Both of them try to lead, so they just end up stepping on each other’s feet. It’s all right, though, Niall can’t think of any dance he’s enjoyed more. Next to them Harry’s pulled Liam into the middle of a strange dance with Zayn, but none of them really know what they’re doing so they’re just sort of caging Liam in and wiggling around him.
Inspired, Niall leads Louis backward, pulling him into a twirl and dipping him dramatically, holding it as Louis blinks up at them all from upside down. Zayn bursts into laughter. “Well lads,” says Niall, “I think I agree with my partner here. Night out?”
“Night out,” Liam agrees, and that’s that.
-
“So,” says Zayn, three drinks deep and with Niall handily cornered in the booth they’ve commandeered. “What is it with you and Liam, then? What was Louis talking about onstage, before you ran away?” Ran away might be stretching things; Niall would have classified it as more of a graceful scamper.
“Me and Liam,” Niall muses. A whiskey ago he might have tried evasive maneuvers, but his Jameson’s been off the rocks for a bit now, secrets are boring, and he can’t be fucked, personally. Still: “I don’t know, really. All the teasing going on, he got concerned. Wanted to make sure I was all right with it. I told him I was lonely.” Niall wrinkles his nose at how maudlin he sounds, but it’s the truth, so whatever. “He wanted to fix it, so I let him. With tongues,” Niall clarifies, when Zayn continues looking confused.
“Oh,” Zayn says. He takes another drink, then another. The ice clinks in his glass, melting slowly. “Are you two going to be a couple, then? Like Harry and Louis are?”
“God no,” Niall says, then instantly begins to backtrack at the look on Zayn’s face. “Not that I wouldn’t date Liam -“
“That’s good!” Zayn says, looking quite outraged at any implied shading of Liam’s dateability. “You would be lucky to date Liam! Anyone would! You’re not leading the poor man on, are you?”
“Of course not!” Niall insists. “I just meant, you know, I don’t want to be tied down.” Niall swallows, and it’s probably the drinks, it must be, because usually thinking the words ‘tied down’ doesn’t flash him instantly to mental - not even images, god, it’s like he could feel rope around his wrists, bound behind his back on a bed, could see Zayn and Liam and oh fuck, Harry and Louis looking down at him, ready to touch him. “By a relationship,” Niall finishes.
This conversation, and evening, has gotten away from him. He wishes that the other three would come back, even though that would probably just make his life more difficult. They’re still up by the bar, though, Harry and Louis grinding up on a giggling Liam. Well, looks like Liam isn’t overly invested in being exclusive either. Zayn follows Niall’s gaze. He looks only mildly surprised at what he’s seeing.
“This is like prison,” says Zayn. “We’ve all turned gay for each other. It was inevitable.”
“I don’t think you can turn gay,” Niall says, frowning.
Zayn rolls his eyes. “Okay, Harold, you know what I mean. Discovered the secret non-heterosexual parts of us that have been waiting there all along, ready for us to all join a boy band and then have some serious questions about ourselves.”
As if summoned by the prospect of badly-phrased sexual identity questioning, Harry reappears at the table in a burst of curls and overflowing shot glasses. “What are we discussing, boys?” he asks, pushing shots in front of each of them. Niall casts a skeptical eye at the shot glasses. They’re filled with something in a quite confrontational shade of green, and topped with what appears to be whipped cream. “They’re called Horny Leprechaun shots,” Harry announces. “They’re in honor of you, Niall. Because you’re from Ireland.”
“Am I?” Niall asks, raising a hand to his heart in shock.
“And because we want to bang you,” Louis says, climbing into the booth and shoving himself against Niall’s side.
“Do you?” Niall asks, faintly and with markedly less sarcasm. An arm slips round his shoulders, and Niall’s surprised to realize that it’s Zayn. The touch makes him feel abruptly bereft, having never kissed Zayn’s mouth before. It’s closer than usual, they’re closer than usual, and the fact that it’s more than he’s used to should be enough. It isn’t, though. More isn’t enough anymore. He wants everything.
“All those things you said onstage before,” Zayn asks, his thumb on Niall’s chin, tipping it up so he has to look Zayn in the eye, “did you mean them?”
Niall nods. From the corner of his vision he can see Liam rejoin them, standing next to Harry on the outside of the table, all of them watching him and Zayn.
“Say them again,” Zayn says. “Say them to me.”
“I want,” Niall stops, licking his lips. His fingers curl around the shot glass, and he looks away from Zayn, takes the shot and lets the sugary Midori burn of it ground him. He closes his eyes for a moment but all it does is let him imagine what it’d be like, all of them watching him, like this but somewhere else. Somewhere with just the five of them. He looks back at Zayn. “I want you to fuck me. I think I’d like it.”
Harry reaches across the table, covers Niall’s hand with his own. “How about the rest of us? You want me and Louis, too? And Liam?”
“Yeah,” Niall says. He clears his throat, chokes out: “Yeah, why not?”
“See, this is what happens when you guys fool around onstage,” says Liam, giving Harry and Louis a look that still manages to seem stern, even though he’s blushing and tugging at his collar. “Things spiral.”
-
They’re on a different couch, this time, not one with with fifteen thousand people in front of them, which is nice. Niall’s sprawled out in the middle, with Zayn’s head on his lap and Harry pushed up against his side, watching Louis and Liam dancing in front of them, grinding lazily to Frank Ocean on the hotel room’s iPod dock. Niall’s slowed his rushing heart with rum, little bottles from the minibar tipped over into glasses of Coke. It should be frantic, maybe, all of them needing to make a move, but instead it’s the opposite, savoring the lead-up, knowing where it’ll all end. Niall rubs his fingertips gently against the short hair at the base of Zayn’s neck, no intent but the joy of it.
“Now, you think?” says Louis, and Niall nods, mostly to himself, because there they go. Zayn digs his fingers into Niall’s thigh, and Harry looks up from his position against Niall’s side to press his mouth to Niall’s throat, then his jaw. Louis touches his hand to Liam’s cheek, says, “You’ve had a taste already, haven’t you? Why don’t you show us what he likes?”
Liam swallows, nods, and then Zayn slips his fingers up, cups the bulge in Niall’s trousers and starts to undo his flies. Niall shifts his hips up into it, loosing a helpless moan, and Harry grins against his jaw. “Yeah, that’s it,” says Harry. Niall follows the sound of his voice to his mouth, catching it in a kiss. It’s easier that way, easier to focus when he’s got his eyes closed and Harry’s tongue in his mouth, insistent but not forceful, somehow both sweet and dirty at once and so perfectly Harry. He doesn’t have to choose who to look at, he can just feel and listen, isolating the sounds of kissing (not just him and Harry, it must be Louis and Liam as well), the sound of knees thudding to the ground, hands on his legs spreading them so - Liam? Yes, Liam, Louis wouldn’t be so strangely gentle - can rest between. Hands tug at his trousers and pants and Niall lifts his hips, helping them get him undressed, a community effort that ends when Harry drags his shirt all the way up and pushes him back so he can slip it all the way off over his head.
“If you have any requests,” Louis says, his hand already on the back of Liam’s head, guiding Liam toward Niall’s dick, “please feel free to say something. Otherwise we’ll just have our way with you.”
“That sounds fine,” Niall says, his voice breaking in the middle when Liam flicks his tongue out to lick at the head of Niall’s cock. “Just - tell me first.” Liam takes him in deeper, inch by inch, carefully enough that Niall thinks this might be his first time doing this, and Niall adores him, suddenly, for being willing to go in on this. For not stopping them, for wanting this too. He couldn’t do it, he thinks, if Liam wasn’t there. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“Like a warning?” Harry asks. “In case we want something you don’t?” He taps his fingertips slowly down Niall’s chest to his stomach, pressing in where he can feel bone, like he’s mapping Niall out, getting the lay of the land. Zayn mirrors him, his hand a little colder than Harry’s, his touch a little lighter. It’s a lot of sensation, those touches contrasted with the wet heat of Liam’s mouth around the length of Niall’s cock, taking in more each time he goes down. Liam rests his hands on Niall’s inner thighs, keeping him spread and anchored, and Niall strokes his fingers over Liam’s knuckles, pushes until Liam spreads his fingers and Niall can hold his hand.
Niall shakes his head, but he doesn’t need to go into it. Already Louis is grinning at him from where he’s sitting on the floor next to Liam with his hand on the back of Liam’s neck, absently caressing. “Like narration,” Louis says, delight evident in his voice. “I think we were onto something, Harry,” he says, squeezing Harry’s knee. “He likes the dirty talk, this one.”
“Talk to me,” Niall says. He reaches out, gets a hand around the back of Louis’ neck, and looks him in the eye. Louis lets his mouth fall open a bit, the tiniest gasp emerging. The motion sends Niall’s cock deeper into Liam’s throat, and he inhales sharply at the feeling.
Louis nods, the motion small enough that it doesn’t dislodge Niall’s hand on him. “We’re going to take you to bed,” Louis says.
Liam pulls off of Niall’s dick, holding it firmly in his fist. “I’m going to kiss you,” he says. “A lot.”
“You’re a bastion of filth,” Louis says to Liam, helping him pull Niall up off the couch. “Really, get yourself under control.”
“I’m going to fuck you,” Zayn says to Niall. Niall means to nod, but then he’s up and standing, and it seems his body wants to sway into Zayn’s, so he lets it. He kisses Zayn, his naked body pressed to Zayn’s still mostly clothed one, and it’s hotter than it has any right to be, the press and drag of the buttons of Zayn’s shirt against Niall’s bare chest, the rough rub of denim against Niall’s naked thighs and cock.
“There we go,” says Louis. “Gold star, Zayn.”
“I want a gold star,” says Harry, moving up against Niall’s back and biting at the side of his neck. “Niall, I’d like to see you suck my cock, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Niall pulls away from Zayn’s kiss to laugh a bit. Of course Harry’s polite about it. He’s a nice boy. “I don’t think I’d mind, no,” Niall says, and lets the wave of hands and quiet laughter guide him to the bed, to lie down in the center. “I wouldn’t mind if everyone else got their kit off, either,” he says, casting a significant look around at his far too clothed best mates.
Liam gets fully disrobed first, and keeps his promise, lying down next to Niall and pulling him into a much sweeter kiss than Niall ever would have expected to get in a five-way. There’s a lot going on around them, the bed moving as everyone else gets undressed, but Liam’s kiss grounds Niall, focuses him. This is the first time Niall’s ever been completely naked with another guy, and even though the circumstances are significantly more complicated than just that, Niall still takes the moment to appreciate it, the way that Liam’s body feels against his, hard cock and muscled torso. Liam could hold him down, Niall realizes, and swallows, suddenly enamored with the idea of it, Liam getting him on his back and holding onto his wrists, pounding into his arse. Niall has some interests to explore, he’s getting that. And he can, maybe, with all of them. Fuck, that’s thrilling.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” says Zayn, his voice edged with impatience, coming from where he’s lain behind Niall. Niall tries to pull back from Liam, but Liam won’t let him, following his mouth until Niall’s spooned back up against Zayn’s body, Zayn’s hand running up and down his side, attempting to drag him over. “Me,” Zayn says insistently, and Niall can’t help laughing a little, breaking the kiss even as Liam makes a little grumpy sound. He barely gets in a breath before Zayn’s touching his face, turning him to the side so he can take what he wants.
“Everyone’s hot,” Louis observes. Niall’s pretty occupied by Zayn kissing him with great authority, like he’s trying to show Niall why he should always be listened to when he’s demanding, but Niall thinks that must be Louis’ hand on his hip, knuckling down to the curve of his arse. “We should have tried this sooner, I like it.”
“It is nice,” Harry agrees. “Lots of limbs, though.” Niall flails a hand out, and Harry takes it, pulling him up and away from Zayn. “Niall, how about you kiss me? Then maybe Zayn fucks you? I think we’d all like to see that.”
“Good,” says Niall, still greedily taking in breaths after all those kisses. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Harry says triumphantly. “My favorite word.” He leans in, grabs at Niall’s arse, and kisses him, both of them up on their knees.
“Hot,” Louis says again, less distantly this time. Niall reaches over, knowing he’s close, and touches Louis’ shoulder, then his chest, then down and down until he finds Louis’ cock and circles his fingers around it, getting a good grip. “All right then,” Louis gasps, thrusting forward into Niall’s fist as Niall gives his all to that kiss with Harry. There are hands on Niall’s back, warm unceasing touches, and Niall settles into it, relaxing.
“I want to get you ready, Niall,” Liam murmurs against Niall’s shoulder, and Niall moves into the touch, shivering when Liam’s words transition into kisses warm on his skin. “Can I?”
“Yeah, yeah,” says Niall, and then Liam’s up, going to get what they need. Zayn takes the opportunity to move in, kneeling up behind Niall and wrapping his arms around Niall’s waist. He takes Niall’s cock in his hand and kisses his neck, scraping his teeth along the bumps of Niall’s spine and murmuring his name. It distracts him from the kiss he’d gone back into with Harry, and then Zayn touches his arse, parting his cheeks to rest of the length of his cock between them, and Niall shivers, tipping his head back onto Zayn’s shoulder and letting himself feel it. He’s going to get fucked, oh god, Zayn’s going to fuck him and he wants it so, so badly. Zayn’s all pressed up against his back, so hot and close but not close enough, not when he could be closer, be inside.
“Ever done this before?” Louis asks, voice light as anything, like he’s asking if Niall’s ever been to a particular shop, or played a certain game of cards. Niall realizes he’s stopped touching Louis on account of he’s got both of his hands digging into Zayn’s thighs behind him, anchoring himself in place as he grinds back into Zayn’s cock between his cheeks. He wasn’t aware that he was sensitive - well, there. Being fucked had been an abstract idea before this, a theory of a practice, a postcard of a painting. He’d never even tried anything on his own, fingers or anything. Niall feels himself flush at the very thought of it, touching himself that way.
“No,” Niall says.
“We’ll be careful with you,” Liam says, rejoining them on the bed. “Well, I will, anyhow.” Niall looks over at him, and Liam takes the opportunity to kiss him, his mouth warm and insistent.
“I will too,” says Zayn, sounding vaguely insulted.
“No need to fight over him, boys,” Louis says, amused. “I think there’s enough of him to go around.”
Niall breaks away from Liam’s kiss to look at Louis and remind him, “Talk to me.”
“I can’t help myself,” Louis says, folding his arms and looking mildly foolish doing it, hard and naked and rebellious as he is. “You’ll have to forcefully shut me up.”
“You are a passive-aggressive nutter,” Niall tells him, and shifts over to Louis’ side of the bed, straddles Louis’ waist, and kisses him right on his stupid mouth.
“Liam’s going to finger you now,” Harry says from somewhere close to Niall’s ear, and Niall mumbles his assent against Louis’ lips, chasing his tongue and slipping his hand downward to press against Louis’ lower back and get him closer. Liam needs no further prompting, thank god, because then Niall feels hands on him again, Louis gripping his arse and spreading him open, Liam’s fingers wet and circling his hole, just rubbing there, getting him used to the feeling. Niall pushes back into it, done with waiting; it feels like he’s been hard for ages, most of his life, actually, and he’s ready for the chatting to conclude and the fucking to begin. Liam slides one finger in, slow and careful, and Niall shudders.
“All right?” Liam asks. Niall tries to nod while still kissing Louis; it doesn’t really work, but Liam must get his acquiescence, because he starts to work that finger in and out of Niall’s body. It feels good - it feels really fucking good, why hasn’t Niall tried this before? - being caught like this, Louis’ mouth on his, Liam gradually working another finger in, Harry and Zayn caging him in with hands on Niall’s thighs and shoulders, keeping him spread. He should feel trapped, maybe, nervous, but instead he just feels oddly safe, tended to, like they’re giving him something rather than preparing to take him. Zayn digs his fingertips into Niall’s thigh, and Niall gasps and something about it opens him up, lets him relax into the thrust of Liam’s fingers, accepting them all the way up in him until he can feel Liam’s knuckles nudging the edge of his hole. He can’t breathe, then, has to pull away from Louis and lean back into it, shifting his arse back and bouncing a little, fucking himself on Liam’s fingers.
“Now,” Niall suggests. He grasps his own cock, holding it tightly and trying to stave off coming before he even gets a cock in him. “Tell me.”
Zayn moves in immediately. “Me first, yeah?” he asks. “I want to fuck you first.”
“You first,” Niall agrees. Liam takes his fingers out, and Niall looks Louis in the eye, then Harry, both of them watching hungrily as Zayn gets into position behind him, Niall still up on his knees. Then Zayn’s lining his cock up against the crack of Niall’s arse, firm and stroked wet with lube, nudging the head against his hole and pushing, pushing for a moment before Niall breathes out and it goes right in, pushes inside him. He can’t hide the look on his face, knows they can see him struggling to adjust to it. Ha, and Harry and Louis had been all about thinking Niall was the one who wanted to watch. Couple of secret voyeurs, they are, judging by the way they reach for each other’s dicks at the same time, not even bumping hands, just going unerringly in to stroke each other. It’s cute in a way that Niall doesn’t think mutual handjobs generally are.
Zayn takes it slow, slow enough that Niall gets impatient and forces himself to relax back into it, breathing out and feeling Zayn’s cock slide deeply into him until there’s no further it can go, and he’s straddling Zayn’s lap, thighs splayed around him, his back to Zayn’s chest. Zayn slips an arm around his waist, scrapes his teeth along Niall’s neck and says, “Fuck, you feel amazing,” his voice rough. He holds Niall in place, his cock fucked deep in Niall’s body until it’s too much, and Niall has to move or he’s going to expire on the spot, fucked to death on his first go-round.
“You also look amazing,” Liam says, a little choked, and Niall lolls his head lazily to the side, grins at Liam, who’s got a hand on his cock as well, stroking himself as he watches them, looking over their joined bodies like he can hardly choose a place to focus on for more than a second. Niall doesn’t say it, but he’s grateful they’re letting them enjoy it like this, letting him take Zayn in without demanding anything more than the privilege of watching. Because they know they’ll get their shot, Niall realizes suddenly, and flushes all the way down his chest at the thought of it, them knowing that they can have him, not just tonight but any night. This is the start of something, and Niall thinks it’s been building for even longer than he was aware of it.
Zayn starts to thrust in harder, bouncing Niall up and down on his cock, their skin slapping together, harsh fucking sounds as Niall strokes himself and moans. He’s not quite frantic, not there yet though he thinks Zayn might be close, his movements getting faster, his breaths coming more quickly. Niall swallows, groans, “Liam, you next,” and that must be what does it for Zayn, because he digs his fingers into Niall’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him in place as he grinds his cock up into Niall’s arse, coming deep inside him.
“You sure?” Liam asks, but he’s already helping Zayn lift him up, manhandling him over onto Liam’s lap, like they’re passing him around to get fucked, oh god. Niall doesn’t think they expect him to let Harry and Louis in too, not his first time, but the thought makes him stroke himself a little faster, that he might be ready for that someday, might want it. All of them lining up to fuck him, one after the after, all the focus on him. Niall could handle it, he wants to learn to take all of them.
“Yeah,” says Niall, and Liam touches his chest, his collarbone, his cheek, angling his face so he can give Niall a kiss. It’s long and sweet, and Liam doesn’t pull away from it before setting his cock to Niall’s wet hole and pushing in, the way slick with Zayn’s come in him already. It hadn’t hurt before, not really, but Liam’s cock is a little bigger, thicker, and it stretches him further, making him squirm back into it, trying to adjust.
“You should see yourself,” Louis says, watching Niall through half-lidded eyes. He looks Niall up and down, not just like he can see Niall’s body but like he see right through him as well, into his mind and soul, like he can see what Niall’s thinking and he thinks it’s filthy and loves Niall anyway. Even loves him because Niall’s so filthy. “You like this, don’t you? All our attention on you, all of us looking at you, jerking ourselves off over you getting fucked.”
Niall nods, has to clear his throat before he can try to speak. Liam starts to fuck him, a slow push in and out of his sore, used arse, and Niall loses his breath again.
“You don’t have to answer him,” Harry says. “He just likes the sound of his own voice.” Louis gives Harry an irritated look and stops stroking his cock. “Hey, I like the sound of your voice also, I’m just saying.”
Ignoring them, Liam murmurs, “Is this okay?” into Niall’s ear. “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” Niall says. “Not in a bad way, though.” Liam’s going slowly, too slowly almost. Niall grabs his hand, places it on his own cock, and Liam starts to stroke him. He starts at a steady rhythm and matches it with his own thrusts, which is what Niall had hoped for. Niall closes his eyes, narrowing the field of sensations to Liam’s body pressed against his back, the slide of Liam’s cock into his arse, the sounds of Harry and Louis wanking each other, the light stroke of Zayn’s fingertips over his thigh, reminding Niall he’s still there. They’re all there, all watching him, all getting off because of him. They’re his, and he’s theirs, and he can have this, and suddenly Niall’s close, knowing that, that he can get what he wants and keep it. “Liam, please,” he whispers, and Liam speeds up his movements, fucking Niall harder, stroking him faster.
“Niall, I’m going to come on you,” Louis tells him, and Niall arches his back, spreads his thighs out, offering his body up for it.
“Fuck,” Harry swears, and then he’s crowding closer too, both him and Louis switched to jacking themselves now, until they come, one after the other, onto Niall’s thighs, his groin, striping Liam’s hand on his cock and making each stroke easier.
They’re all on him, all of them - their come on his skin, inside his arse. That’s the thought that finally lets Niall finish, shoving his hips back and clenching down on Liam’s dick inside him. “Oh god,” Liam groans, and loses his rhythm, just holding onto Niall’s cock as Niall thrusts up into his grip, splattering him with more come. He does it again, and again, coaxing Liam’s climax out of him, grinding back onto his cock until Liam can’t help but come deep in him, his teeth barely digging into Niall’s shoulder, just enough to redden the skin.
Niall’s shaking, hadn’t realized he was shaking until their hands were all on him again, petting him, smearing the come on his skin and helping guide him up off Liam’s body. He can feel come leaking out of his well-used arse, and it’s filthy in a way that he doesn’t hate, not at all, especially knowing that they can see it. It’s too much of an effort to hold himself up, so he doesn’t bother, just falls down onto his back on the bed. “Well,” he says, “all right then.”
“Good?” asks Liam, his eyes wide and hopeful when Niall looks up at him.
Niall smiles at him, can’t help it. “Good,” he confirms. Liam runs his fingers through the hair at the base of Niall’s neck, smiles back. Zayn’s already curled up alongside Niall’s body, and Harry joins him on the other side, sighing.
“That was some fantastic porn,” Louis notes, looking Niall over. “But what about us, then? We started this whole business, and then we had to get each other off, it was tragic. Misses the whole point of swinging if we don’t even swap wives.”
“We’re both the wife, don’t kid yourself,” Harry says, not even opening his eyes. Niall cards his fingers through Harry’s curls, and Harry nuzzles his chest, huffing out a happy little breath.
“You two teased me for ages,” Niall says, cracking one eye open to look at them. “You can wait until next time.”
“Ooh, next time,” Louis says, crawling up onto Niall’s naked body and sprawling out. “Are you saying this is more than just a one night stand, then? Are we all your boyfriends, now? Your sexual servants? Your slaves?” he asks, punctuating that last with a lick to Niall’s neck.
“Yep,” says Niall, arching his neck toward Louis in case he wants to keep on with it. Felt nice. Niall could get used to this. Zayn slings an arm around his waist, nudging Louis away so he can kiss at Niall’s shoulder. Niall can’t really get in a deep breath with all this weight on him, and he needs a shower. It’s fine, though.
Louis laughs a bit, but no one disagrees.
-
It’s a game, now. Louis and Harry are still the principle players, but they all like a spot of it here and there, always with an audience, whether it’s when they’re onstage or on a balcony waving to fans while taking breaks from recording, or on a red carpet, talking to the press about how excited they are to be seeing the sequel to 2010’s big huge summer blockbuster that Niall had to scrape together enough change to see in Mullingar. Louis and Harry will grin at each other and then both lean in to whisper to Niall, trading off in a filthy duet, Louis promising to fuck Niall hard while Harry pledges to suck his cock afterward. Zayn gets surprisingly creative, offering to do things like take Niall into an alley and get on his knees for him. Liam never quite gets the hang of it, but at least his offers of kisses are generally followed through on, often with great immediacy, and he rarely stops at kissing, no matter where they are. He’s a bit of a freak for actual public sex, though he doesn’t talk much about it. More of an action guy. Niall appreciates that, but then he appreciates all of them, in their own ways.
Niall gets in on it too, sometimes, telling them what’s on his mind . But mostly, he just listens. Mostly, he just smiles and says yes.