One Direction fic | Outlast | OT5 | ~20,000 words | NC-17 | [1/2]
Outlast
OT5 (various other side pairings) | NC-17 | ~ 20,000 words
And then Louis says, “I bet £10,000 I could go longer without wanking than all of you,” which was probably his first mistake.
In which Louis has some regrets, Liam isn’t worried, Niall wants to help, Harry tries to forfeit, and Zayn may or may not be bothered.
With gratitude to randominity for the encouragement, and massive, massive thanks to threeturn for not just plotting this out with me but also fixing it afterwards!
Part One
Day Zero
It starts because Louis steps on a condom.
He doesn’t realize it’s a condom at first. His foot slides forward in a sudden rush as he makes his way down the aisle between the bunks. He catches himself before he falls backwards and looks down, half expecting to find one of Harry’s banana peels. He hopes it’s a banana peel, because tripping over a banana peel would be hilarious. If he’d tripped over a banana peel, he could tweet about it and then leave it under Harry’s pillow as revenge.
Instead, it’s a used condom. A condom that someone used, then threw to the ground, which Louis is now touching with the bare skin of his foot. Damned if he’s going to start wearing socks but, ew, oh bollocks, that’s touching his bare skin. Can he get herpes through his foot?
He doesn’t know whose pillow to leave it under, so instead he hollers at the top of his lungs, “Band meeting!”
Niall pops over quickly enough, Liam next, and eventually Harry, and then they have to send Niall back to collect Zayn, who’s napping in the back of the bus, but finally they’re all there.
“We already said no to a taco night,” Zayn says, draping himself across Niall’s shoulders and rubbing at the sleep crease in his cheek.
“This is not about tacos,” Louis says darkly. “Although that was certainly one of the greatest mistakes you’ll ever make. Harry would cook and then we’d eat tacos; I can’t believe this is even up for discussion.”
“Too many beans for Nialler,” Liam says. “I have to sleep under him.”
Harry rubs at his chin thoughtfully and says, “There’s not a real kitchen. How would I be able to cook for all of you, and I’d also have to make some for the crew because otherwise that wouldn’t be fair, would it? I guess I could do it in batches but we’d need to find some extra bowls. There were some great bowls at this shop I was at in Austin but I didn’t buy them.”
Louis rolls his eyes so hard that he can see the inside of his eye socket and says, “Cheers, Harry. Never speak again. This isn’t about taco night.” He crosses his arms across his chest and levels a stern glare at each of the boys, one by one. “This is about one of you leaving your rubber on the floor and I just stepped on it and you’re disgusting and no longer allowed to sleep on the same bus as me. Who was it?”
Niall starts chortling almost immediately, his face going red as he cackles and slaps at his thigh, while Liam, Zayn and Harry all looked appropriately grossed out but also like they’re just moments away from starting to laugh with Niall.
It could be any of them.
“I’m serious,” Louis says. “The depravity must end. Whoever did this is off the bus and bunking with the crew.”
“Come off it, Lou,” Zayn says. “It was probably just a mistake.”
“You?” Louis asks, clutching at his chest. “My own partner in crime and you would do this to me?”
“It wasn’t me,” Zayn says, shaking his head and giving the most disgruntled and betrayed look Louis has ever seen. Which means very little, given that Zayn gave that exact same look when he found Louis used up the last of the milk so there was none left for his tea this morning.
“Zayn doesn’t use condoms,” Harry says, and then laughs to himself at Zayn’s outraged face.
“Okay, Safe Sex, thanks for fessing up,” Louis says.
“I didn’t have sex on the bus last night,” Harry says, holding both hands up.
“Yeah, we all heard you getting off in the supply cupboard after the meet and greet,” Niall says. “And don’t even look at me, Lou. The bunks are too claustrophobic for me to try to have a shag in.”
“He did say he found the condom on the aisle, not in the bunks,” Liam points out.
“So it was probably you then,” Niall says. “Every time I catch you mid-shag you’re standing, upside down, whatever kama sutra bullshite.”
“Speaking of - learn to knock,” Liam says.
“That’s alright,” Harry says, cupping his hand around the back of Niall’s neck. “Liam’s still figuring out how to be single. You have to let him have his jollies.”
“Says the shagger of the year.”
“The point is: who was it, tell me now, this has to end,” Louis says. “I need to go bathe my foot in acid.”
“As if it’s worse than listening to you wank off every night,” Liam says.
“Excuse you. I’m silent.”
Niall throws his head back and starts gasping, “Ah, ah, ahhh,” in which might be a good imitation of Louis having an orgasm if not for the fact that he’s sure he never makes a sound.
“Niall,” Louis exclaims. “You literally ripped a hole in your sheets when you were tossing off last month.”
Harry snorts and Louis points at him. “And you always make this sound like you’re crying, and you,” he says, pointing at Liam, “always rock the whole bus. And everyone can tell when you’re sexting,” he finishes, pointing at Zayn. “The whole lot of you are randy bastards.”
“You’re just as bad,” Harry says.
“I could go twice as long without having sex as you could,” Louis says, which is not normally something he would brag about, but desperate times.
“Because you wank off twice as much,” Harry says.
“I wank less than all of you!”
Niall starts laughing again, which. Rude.
“I do.”
“Let’s just go finish the movie,” Liam says. “We’re going to be pulling over for supper soon.”
“I do!” Louis shouts.
“There is absolutely no way that you could go longer than I could, but I know you’re upset because you stepped on Harry’s rude leftover, so why don’t we just --”
“Excuse me, Liam,” Harry says. “As I already explained, that wasn’t mine.”
“You could not.” Louis scowls at Liam, incensed.
Zayn’s still leaning against the wall, doing a good impression of a drugged sloth, which is why it’s that much more of a betrayal when he says, “He probably could.”
“I could definitely go longer than you,” Louis shoots back.
Zayn scoffs and actually stands up straight for the first time. There’s still a red line across his cheek from his nap. He makes a duckface and shakes his head at Louis.
And then Louis says, “I bet £10,000 I could go longer without wanking than any of you,” which was probably his first mistake.
--
Day One
The first day is brutal.
Louis thought it was supposed to start easy and get harder but it’s actually exceedingly hard all day long. Specifically his cock, which he has to continually wrangle under the waistband of his jeans so it doesn’t tent out the front obscenely. He’s only gone without his morning wank in the shower, and that’s not unheard of, but the fact that he knows he can’t jerk off later if he wants to renders him unable to stop thinking about it. His body probably isn’t as worked up as his mind is, but mother fuck on a cheese cake, he can’t stop thinking about his dick.
He flops onto the couch beside Liam and sighs loudly. They’ve still got another hour until the concert. He’s already got his hair done and his dick is fully outraged at the idea of no orgasms in the foreseeable future. Everything is terrible and there are no distractions, except Liam, who’s really at fault for all of this.
“Sometimes I have ideas,” Louis says. “You don’t always have to listen to me.”
“The last time I didn’t listen to you, you super glued all of my socks together. And that was about climbing on top of the bus while it was still moving. I’m pretty sure that you do want everyone to listen to you all the time.” Liam has his head dropped as he stares at the phone on his lap. His chin bumps up against his chest when he talks.
“That was different,” Louis says. “You should only listen to me when I have good ideas.”
“You think all of your ideas are good ideas.”
“Well, I’m just saying. If everyone didn’t keep riling me up then we wouldn’t always end up in these situations,” Louis huffs. “It’s hardly my fault.”
“About the wanking?”
“Obviously.”
“You could just call if off,” Liam suggests.
“You call it off,” Louis says. “You all call it off and admit that I’ve won.”
“I’m still doing okay,” Liam says, with a slightly apologetic shrug. “I mean, it has only been like 23 hours.”
“I know that,” Louis snaps. “Everything is fine, stop talking to me.” And then he kicks at Liam’s thighs until he gets up and leaves Louis and Louis’s permaboner to have the couch to themselves.
--
They play the show and climb back on the bus. Louis heads straight for his bunk and spends a couple of hours Skyping with his family. When he leaves again, Zayn’s curtains are already closed and Liam’s in his bunk with his headphones in. Louis taps his fingers against Liam’s ankle as he passes by and heads to the back lounge.
The telly’s on but the sound is muted. Harry and Niall are curled together on the couch. Harry’s managed to twist himself up so that he can rest his head on Niall’s chest, his cheek all smushed against Niall’s ribcage.
He doesn’t move except to bend his knees, wrapping himself even tighter around Niall and hooking his feet over Niall’s calves so there’s a little room at the end of the couch for Louis to sit.
“Are either of you ready to admit defeat?” Louis asks.
Neither of them respond. Niall pets Harry’s hair into a slightly neater pile, pushing it away from where it was tickling his nipple.
“Me neither,” Louis says.
--
Day Two
Day two is even worse, so Louis is forced to duct tape Liam’s hands to his nipples. He was just trying to duct tape Liam’s nipples to themselves, but Liam’s hands got in the way, so what did he expect was going to happen.
He gives Liam a little grope while Liam’s hands are occupied. Liam screams bloody murder, but Louis felt his dick and it was not 100% flaccid. If Louis has to be hard, everyone has to be hard. He spends the rest of the day grabbing as many of their dicks as he can, which is working great until, acting on pure instinct after a full day of cockgrabs, he goes for Paul’s and ends up locked in a storage closet for three hours.
--
Day Three
They have an interview and photoshoot, then a concert, and everyone meets for drinks in the lobby afterwards, so by the time Louis makes it to his bunk, he’s tired enough to sleep and tipsy enough not to mind that he’s still hard.
“How are we all doing then?” Louis asks the bus. “Anyone have anything they want to share with the class?”
“Stuff it, Tommo,” Niall says from across the aisle. He sounds a little pained, which Louis finds comforting.
“I miss sex,” Harry says, sadly.
“I miss sleeping,” Zayn says in a quiet way that clearly hints he knows at least fourteen places he could hide their bodies.
He’s probably also suffering, Louis assumes. Everyone is probably suffering. Maybe this wasn’t Louis’s worst idea after all.
--
Day Four
“Problems?” Louis asks, coming up beside Harry as Harry struggles with the flies of his jeans. They just had a radio call-in this afternoon and now there’s a solid two hours with nothing scheduled before the show. Louis remembers when two hours didn’t even seem like long enough for a good nap, but now it’s a monstrous amount of time to be left to his own devices.
“It’s fine,” Harry says. He lifts the elastic waist of his pants to hold his cock back while he eases the zip up over the bulk of his erection.
“Admit it,” Louis says. “You’re dying for a wank.”
Harry sighs, his fingers twitching at his flies before he folds them carefully away.
“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Harry says. “But now every time I go for a wank, I picture all the kids dying of malaria.”
It was Zayn’s idea to donate the money lost in the bet to Invisible Children and Liam’s idea that they never ever tell anyone where the money came from.
“That’s weird, even for you,” Louis says.
“You’re not doing any better,” Harry says, nodding down at Louis’s crotch.
“Mind your eyes,” Louis says. His hand flutters before he realizes that he can’t hide his boner by covering it with his hand. And also that it’s better to keep his hands as far away from his prick as possible.
He exhales slowly and Harry mimics the sound, not like he’s teasing but like he’s feeling the same tightening pull as Louis, that low tug of wanting that makes him breathless.
“You can always give just up,” Louis offers, keeping his voice gentle.
Harry nods and then catches himself, looking thoughtful.
“I might,” Harry allows. “But also, like. I think I want to win?”
“Really?” Louis asks.
Harry shrugs. He’s so soft and pink on the outside, but Louis knows he’s stubborn as fuck underneath. He just doesn’t show it very often.
“It would be funny, right?” Harry asks. “If I won.”
“It certainly would be something,” Louis says. The first sign of an apocalypse, probably. Harry’s stubborn, but he’s also the easiest person Louis knows. Which is one of his favorite things about Harry, obviously, but if Harry can last longer than the rest of them? They probably need some help.
Harry chews on his lower lip and shrugs at Louis.
“Okay,” Louis says, sharply. “Ten minute truce.”
He ushers Harry into the first room he finds unlocked, which turns out to be a little conference room. Louis sits at the the head of the table and eyes the phone just in front of him. Prank calls are always a good distraction.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Louis snaps. He’s still looking straight ahead at the phone but he can feel Harry’s gaze on the side of his face.
Harry leans forward and clasps his hands in front of himself on the table.
“‘m not,” he says. “Are we going to jack off now?”
“What?” Louis yelps. “No! What the fuck do you think truce means?”
“I don’t know,” Harry whines.
“Wanking isn’t a truce, it’s giving up. I’m not giving up,” Louis says. He would really, really like to give up. He thought it would be fine, but it turns out he needs, like, just the regular amount of orgasms. One to three orgasms a day. He’s getting even harder now, sat here kitty-corner to Harry, thinking about all the dick touching he is not going to get to do tonight. Why does everyone always have to listen to the words that come out of his mouth? They’re only words until other people make them real.
“Didn’t you just say you wanted to win?” Louis reminds him. It’s easier when he focuses on other people.
“Lou,” Harry says, lowly. “I think maybe--”
“What?” Louis says.
“Maybe I won’t win?” Harry offers, turning it into a question. His thighs flex, legs pulling further open as he squirms in his chair. He’s close enough that his elbow bumps up against Louis’s forearm when he moves. Close enough that it would be nothing for Louis to drop his hand under the table, rub his palm over the thick line of his cock. He knows what it feels like because sometimes when they were still teenagers, and very, very silly, they would rub each other off. It really did seem silly then, but right now it seems like --
Louis forces himself to breath out slow and and steady as he can manage. Harry licks his lips. It’s been years since Louis’s touched his prick. It doesn’t seem silly now.
“No,” Louis snaps, pushing himself away from the table. “I said it was a truce. Stop trying to -- just stop. We need to get ready for the show.”
He marches himself out of the room without looking back to see if Harry’s following, but pauses to hold the door open behind himself because of course Harry is going to follow. They walk down the hallway together while Louis tries to find the most populated section of the venue. It would be better not to be alone right now.
This is a worse idea than the time he dared Niall to eat straight mayonnaise and then do a handstand.
They wander into the green room, where Zayn is lying, shirtless, on the couch. He’s all soft and sleepy, stretched out in this long line, his tattoos standing out in stark relief against his smooth skin. One of his hands rests behind his head and he blinks slowly when the door opens, looking up and smiling in that unguarded way he has when it’s just them, like he’s just genuinely, sweetly happy to see his boys.
“Well you can just fuck yourself to hell and back,” Louis says, turning on his heel and storming out of the room.
--
That night he doesn’t say anything before bed, just lies in the dark with one hand wrapped around his cock, holding on to it without moving. It helps. A little.
--
Day Five
They’re still going to be on the road for at least another three hours and Louis’s restless so he wanders up and down the aisle. He’s moving in between the bunks when a sound stops him. Generally they’ve got an unspoken rule not to pester anyone once he’s got his curtains closed, but this is ground zero and the times are far from general.
Louis pauses, strains to hear, and, yeah. That’s definitely a wet, rhythmic, unmistakable sound coming from Niall’s bunk. There used to be a time in his life when he wasn’t delighted to hear his bandmates wanking, Louis is pretty sure.
“Oh my god. Niall, are you wanking? Niall, are you in there wanking?” Louis asks, tapping at the curtain with a soft fist.
“Yeah,” Niall says, grunting a little like he’s giving himself one last squeeze before there’s the rustling sound of clothing being pulled up.
“You’ve given up already?” Louis asks, delighted. All of his plans are coming into place. Nothing feels as good as sweet victory. “You’re admitting that you lose?”
“I’ve been out for two days,” Niall says. He pulls the curtain back, all pink cheeks and bright blond hair in the darkness of his bunk.
“What?” Louis flaps his arms in outrage. “Were you ever planning on telling any of us?”
“I left my cheque on the fridge,” Niall says. “Thought you already knew.”
“You did not,” Louis says, spinning on his heel and marching over to the kitchen. On the fridge, held up by a We Do It Bigger In Texas magnet that seems to be vaguely in the shape of a cock, is a cheque signed by Niall. There’s a spot of what looks like barbeque sauce on the edge of it.
“It’s not my fault that you were being sneaky,” Louis says once he’s sulked back to Niall’s bunk.
Niall has his hand resting low on his stomach, just above the bulge in his trackies. His cheeks have bloomed a dark red, but Louis doesn’t know if that’s from being caught or from all of the wanking he was doing. With his hand on his cock. His hand is currently on his belly, but before it was wrapped around his cock, and he was pulling himself off, and he was going to come. Louis would really like to come. It’s probably the only thing in this world that would come close to feeling as good as sweet victory, but. He has to focus.
“It’s on the fridge,” Niall says. “Don’t know where would be more noticeable than the fridge.”
“Well, anyway,” Louis says, “you caved. Now you can help me get everyone else out.”
“Umm,” Niall says, which sounds a lot like yes.
--
Part Two
Day Seven
Liam doesn’t want to be a jerk, but he doesn’t know what everyone is making such a fuss about. Sure it’s nice to wank in the shower sometimes, but he’s just been doubling up on cardio and mostly he’s doing fine. He’s going to win this and then he’s going to be able to brag about it forever.
“Really?” Niall asks. “Fine?”
“Yeah,” Liam says. He feels a bit apologetic, but he’s not sure why, given that Niall got himself out already and is therefore the one person that Liam is definitely allowed to be honest around. Louis goes purple when Liam hints that he’s still hanging strong, and Harry’s been spending an awful lot of time rubbing his own thighs. Zayn’s the only one who still seems normal, but then discussions on wanking habits were never a big part of their pre-bet friendship.
“Totally fine?” Niall asks. “You don’t miss it at all?”
“Umm,” Liam says. “It’s only been one week?”
Niall humphs, which must mean Louis had been looking for a different answer. Niall doesn’t usually ask questions out of his own curiosity. It’s a bit strange that he’s been trying to help Louis out, but he hasn’t been doing a very good job at it. Louis and Niall are about a subtle as a bowling ball on a spaceship. Would that be subtle? It would probably float around and hit everyone on the head, but Liam isn’t exactly sure how gravity works.
“You can tell him I woke up with a boner this morning if that’ll make him happy,” Liam offers. This didn’t use to be his life, but he also didn’t used to be able to sell out arenas, so he’ll take it.
“Awesome,” Niall says. “It cheers him up a lot when he thinks that other people are suffering as much as he is.”
“No one is suffering as much as he is,” Liam says.
“I know,” Niall says, sighing the sigh of someone who has heard exactly how much Louis is suffering.
“He’s trying to turn us against each other,” Liam says.
Niall nods. He’s got the sparkle that comes with being able to wank freely and it’s making him look extra pink and relaxed and cheerful. Like how he always looks, except turned up to eleven. Liam’s fine, but he’s not relaxed. His body is aching something fierce from all the extra time he’s been spending at the gym and he thinks he might have pulled a muscle in his back when he was doing deadlifts yesterday.
“Does he really think it’s going to work?” Liam asks.
“Is it?” Niall asks.
“Well, he cut the sleeves off all of my t-shirts,” Liam says, “but no one is out of the game because of it, so now I need to find some new t-shirts.”
Niall laughs. “He bought Harry a box of ice lollies and said he should spend more time sucking on things.”
“I noticed that,” Liam says, feeling himself start to frown before he works his mouth into a more neutral expression. He’s never seen someone look quite so currish while deep throating an ice lolly. It was a bit distracting.
“Harry’s suffering,” Niall says.
“What about you?” Liam asks.
“Me?”
“What does Louis have you doing?”
“He told me to stand around and look available.”
“Yeah?” Liam asks. He can see both Niall’s nipples through the thin fabric of his vest.
Niall gives a shrug that probably means: hard to be more available than I already am, Liam’s not sure, that’s just the message he’s getting right now. It’s been a bit difficult to focus.
Liam forces himself to blink. They were talking about something.
“He told Zayn to start wearing a bag over his head because he was finding his face counterproductive,” says Liam after what is probably just a reasonable pause.
Niall throws his head back and cackles, looking so loose and joyous in his body that Liam feel even tenser in comparison.
“Anyway,” Liam says, “I need to go for a run now,” and then he bolts.
--
Day Eight
Luckily Liam already has years of practice, because Louis seems to think that the best way to get Liam out is to wank him off himself. He keeps going for Liam’s dick, even in the middle of interviews. Which is actually no different than any other series of interviews, except that this time Louis wants to get Liam to come instead of just embarrass himself, or whatever his goals usually are. Liam’s used to Louis wanting to make it hurt or humiliate, and it’s always for the sake of a good laugh so Liam doesn’t mind, but he’s not used to Louis like this.
“Stop,” Liam hisses. He was in the middle of answering a question so Louis managed to wiggle his fingers into Liam’s lap and now has his hand wrapped around Liam’s cock. As much as he can manage through Liam’s jeans, anyway. They’re doing a radio interview and there’s a table in front of them so probably no one has noticed, and even if they have: not the first time this has been caught on film.
The only thing that is a first is that Liam’s gone quickly, achingly hard. It’s not his fault, because Louis is clearly trying to make him hard and it has been over a week, but Liam’s so embarrassed that his stomach is sore with it. He wants Louis’s hand gone because, in spite of everything, it feels good.
“Stop,” he whispers again, pulling futilely at Louis’s wrist. Every time he tries to wrench Louis’s hand away, Louis just tightens his fingers, holding on hard enough that it actually hurts a little.
Which still isn’t doing anything to bring Liam’s hard-on down, no matter how many angry thoughts he sends to his prick.
“I’m just trying to help,” Louis whispers, rocking the heel of his hand down when Liam finally stops trying to push him away. He rubs his palm in a firm stroke over Liam’s cock and even though the thick denim, it feels incredible. Amazingly, horribly incredible.
It’s not fair that Louis knows how to touch him like this.
Liam drops his own hands over Louis’s. He can’t pull him away, but under the heavy weight of Liam’s hands, at least Louis isn’t able to rub. It’s still torture because they’re both pressing down on Liam’s cock, but Liam doesn’t feel like he’s going to cream his trousers in the middle of an interview, so. That’s something.
Finally the interview ends and everyone stands. Liam pulls his t-shirt down as far as it can go, which is rather less far than he’d like it to be, but hopefully still good enough to cover the worst of the bulge. From the little smile Louis gives him after glancing pointedly downward, maybe it’s not even managing to do that.
Liam starts taking off with the rest of the group and jumps when Louis catches his elbow and tries to lead him into the toilets instead.
“What are you doing?” Liam snaps, skittering away from Louis’s grabbing hands.
“Finishing what I started,” Louis says and he sounds genuinely affronted, like he can’t even imagine why Liam would be asking the question.
“No,” Liam says, jogging away before Louis can get near him. He looks over his shoulder and there’s this brief moment where he knows that he could stop, wrestle it out long enough to make it look like he’d put up a good fight before letting Louis win. He could have Louis’s hand on his dick and Louis would get him off. Liam can feel himself getting even harder just thinking about it, his cock kicking wetly in his pants.
He drops his head and keeps running before his dick can convince his brain that staying still is actually the better idea.
Louis lets him go.
--
He finds Harry in the green room a few hours before the concert. Everyone else is off running amuck, so the dressing room is actually the quietest place to be. Liam’s surprised to walk in on Harry, and Harry seems even more surprised to be walked in on by Liam, judging from the hand he has stuffed down the front of his jeans.
“Whoops,” Liam says. “Sorry!” Then, “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Playing cards,” Harry says slowly, but there’s a little quiver in the back of his voice. He’s pulled his hand out, but it’s still resting on his lap, palm pressed flat to the bulge that Liam can make out, even from the other side of the room.
“Harry,” Liam says, folding his arms. “You can’t just give up. We all have to stick this out. Someone has to beat Louis.”
“You stick it out,” Harry says. His fingers twitch in his lap.
“We all have to stay in as long as possible. Better odds.” Liam gives him a very earnest and inspiring head nod. He can tell it’s inspiring, because Harry’s frown deepens.
And, okay. He’s not going to admit it to Harry, but really he just wants to make sure that it doesn’t come down to only him and Louis. As it is, Louis’s attention is somewhat divided. Liam saw him groping Harry when they were changing after the show last night, and there was quite a commotion this morning when he tried to climb into Zayn’s bunk. At least with other people to distract him, Louis hasn’t turned his full attention to Liam.
Liam really wants to win this. He knows he can. He just needs Louis distracted.
“Come on,” Liam says encouragingly, walking over and pulling Harry up by the wrist. “Let’s find you something to eat.”
“I just had that hand down my pants,” Harry says as Liam leads him over to the spread.
Liam almost falters, but it’s too late for that now.
“Here, eat a banana,” he says, grabbing at the nearest piece of fruit and shoving it at Harry. “Wait, no,” he catches himself at the last moment and snatches the fruit back. “Do not eat a banana. Have some grapes.”
The grapes were a better idea, but it turns out that getting Harry to sprawl on the couch, his cock still visibly hard in his jeans while he puts things in his mouth, was not Liam’s strongest suggestion.
He’s still going to win this.
--
Day Nine
Liam spends all morning at the gym, even though his back is still killing him from earlier in the week, and once he’s showered and back on his bus, he regrets the entire series of events that have led him to this place: hiding out in the back lounge, terrified that Louis is going to walk in. It’s not that he’s having trouble with the bet, because he’s not. It’s just that Louis’s constant grabbing at his dick has him thinking constantly about his dick, and his dick keeps throbbing angrily back at him. His entire body aches from overuse and he’s somehow simultaneously tired and strung out, and just. Bah. Cranky.
He’s worked himself into quite a sulk and he just wants to be alone to stew in the uncomfortable prison of his body.
“Sorry,” Zayn says, backing away immediately under the force of Liam’s glare when he opens the door to the back lounge where Liam’s sat rewatching the last Batman movie.
“I thought you were Louis,” Liam says. He tries to soften the glare off his face. It’s not Zayn’s fault.
“I’ll go,” Zayn says, but Liam feels guilty so he says, “No, it’s okay. You want to watch with me?”
Zayn comes over and sits at the far end of the couch, because Zayn is brilliant and understands about boundaries. Liam has four favorite members of the band, but Zayn is definitely one of them.
He settles in and feels himself start to relax. Or, he would relax except that his back has start screaming at him, this thin line of agony down his left side that radiates up the base of his neck. Batman is currently waiting for his spine to regrow, which is totally sick, but it’s not helping take Liam’s mind off his own aching back.
Shifting carefully, he reaches around and tries to rub into the line of pain, huffing when he’s not able to reach.
“You alright, mate?” Zayn asks.
“Messed up my back a bit,” Liam says.
“You’ve been pushing really hard,” says Zayn.
“I try,” Liam says, sounding a little sadder than he means to. It’s just that he does try and it’s not fair that it still always feels so hard. It turns out that not wanking makes him extra mopey, which is a bit of an unfortunate discovery.
“Aww, babes,” Zayn says, scooting across the couch and squeezing Liam’s shoulder.
When Liam doesn’t cringe away, he reaches his other hand around so that he can rub at both Liam’s shoulders, draped behind Liam. Zayn’s hands are firm, kneading carefully and it feels so good that Liam shivers a little.
“You want a backrub?” Zayn asks after a long stretch of silence.
Liam realizes that both of his eyes are closed, his head dropped forward in a slump even as he presses his shoulder back into Zayn’s touch. He lifts his head and blinks. Isn’t Zayn already giving him a backrub?
“Like, properly,” Zayn says after Liam gives him confused eyebrows. Zayn always understands Liam’s eyebrows. He’s like a genius. He’s like Alfred. Liam’s like Batman, but just during the bits when he’s broken and useless.
“I could get on the floor?” Liam asks.
“Just lie down,” Zayn says, dropping off the side of the couch to make room for Liam to stretch out on his front.
Zayn reaches for him again, but this time he can sweep his hands all the way down the stretch of Liam’s back and it’s so, so good. Liam cannot even believe how good it feels. Maybe Zayn is Batman.
“Hey,” Zayn says quietly, like he’s noticed that Liam’s eyes have slipped closed again. “I’m going to sit on you, okay? I can’t reach like this.”
"Yeah,” Liam says, marveling a little at how thick and slow his voice sounds, like it’s not even his voice any more.
Zayn settles carefully over him, but he’s light as anything and Liam can hardly feel him. It’s better like this, though. Zayn is able to put more pressure into the slow rub of his palms up and down Liam’s back and it draws up this low ache in the sore muscles that’s so good Liam can feel his toes curl. He’s hard, dick pushed into the plush cushions with each careful sweep of Zayn’s hands, but Liam’s on his front, so Zayn won’t know. He’ll have to figure out something when it’s time to stand again, but for now it’s okay.
Zayn digs his thumbs in on either side of Liam’s spine and starts working in tight circles before fanning out. He finds the knot that hurts the worst and presses into it with strong fingers, pulling the low grade ache into a sharp spread that grows and grows until finally it eases back again, and Liam groans into the pillow under his head because he doesn’t have any other way of saying what a relief it is.
“It was there, right?” Zayn says from very far away.
“Yeah,” Liam mumbles, feeling his shoulders flex reflexively under Zayn’s knowing touch.
Everything he does feels good now that the knot is gone and Liam keeps shivering under Zayn’s fingertips. He doesn’t even know what his body is doing because he can’t make his brain work right now. Zayn must be sitting on his arse, because Liam can finally feel his weight, the grounding press of Zayn bearing him down against the cushions. He likes how steady Zayn feels, even as it seems like his own head is going to fly away. He arches, moves into Zayn’s hands, rubbing back against him, letting Zayn rock him forward.
His entire body feels like it’s melting into honey, so slow and sweet, easy under the rhythm of Zayn working him over. He’s making nonsense noises into the couch, and Zayn keeps saying these quiet, soothing things. For this long moment, everything is perfect: the low, steady pleasure finally sparks into something real that has him shaking apart. His hips jerk wildly, even as Zayn’s weight holds him down, and Liam moans softly as he comes in slow steady pulses that crest so gently.
He gasps and then freezes, suddenly realizing what happened. His whole body stills as a wave of shame swallows him up.
Zayn says, “Umm,” and stops moving his hands.
“Oh, fuck,” Liam says. He twists away, rolling out from under Zayn and flinging himself off the couch. He lands on the floor on his arse, and brings his knees up to his chest, curling in on his treacherous dick.
“Umm,” Zayn says again, his arms crossed over his chest. He bites down hard on his lower lip.
“Oh my god,” Liam says, so embarrassed he thinks his head might burst into flames. “I can’t believe that happened.”
“It’s okay,” Zayn says. He’s looking at Liam so intently that Liam can’t stand it because he feels like he might get hard again. Even after everything.
“I’m sorry,” Liam says, and flees to his bunk.
The only plus side to this whole disaster is that now he’s free to wank off again. He sticks his hand down his jeans and starts to pull himself off, hand slicked with the mess from where he creamed himself.
--
Part Three
Day Ten
With Liam out, Louis is almost unbearable. Niall loves it. He probably should be enjoying this a little less unabashedly, but he can’t help himself. Louis is cranky and sharp, constantly scheming, pestering Niall nonstop during their downtime and it’s fun. The money’s just for charity so Niall isn’t too worried about keeping it fair, and anyone could have asked him for help, it’s just that Louis thought to do it first.
But even though Niall’s having a blast, he still thinks this might be pushing it too far.
“I’m not sure that it would work,” Niall says, carefully.
“Of course it would work,” Louis says.
“It’s not really... in the intent of the bet.”
“I came up with this bloody bet, I can say what’s in the intent.”
“But hiring a prostitute to seduce Zayn? ‘s a bit dire.”
“Desperate times,” Louis says grimly.
“I just think he might be put out.”
“God, Niall,” Louis gripes. “Why don’t you just marry him already?”
Niall shrugs. Not really, but there could certainly be worse things than being married to Zayn. He always smells really good and he gives better hugs than anyone else in the world.
“Actually,” Louis says. He gives him a long, considering look. Niall’s gut twists anxiously and he wonders what’s wrong with himself that he’s still dying to hear what Louis has come up with now.
“Maybe we don’t need to hire someone. You and Zayn get along pretty well.”
“Zayn’s great,” Niall agrees.
Louis frowns.
“You’re great, too,” Niall says quickly.
“Well, yes, of course. But try to stay focused. You can get Zayn out. And a strong breeze in the right direction will get Harry out and then I will win!”
“How am I supposed to get Zayn out?” Niall asks. He’s glad that Louis isn’t asking him to go after Harry, because he does feel a bit sorry for the lad.
“Catch him after one of his naps,” Louis says immediately. “When he’s all sleepy and helpless. He probably won’t be wearing a shirt.”
“You’ve been thinking about this a lot,” Niall notes.
“Someone has to come up with a plan.”
“And then what?” Niall asks.
“Have you ever sucked off a bloke?” Louis asks.
“Yeah,” Niall says.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you like it?”
“Sure,” Niall says. He doesn’t want to make this awkward, especially with how intently Louis is now staring at his mouth, but he’s sucked off rather a lot of blokes. On the long list of Niall’s favorite things to do, having a few pints and exchanging sloppy blowies with mates is pretty high up there. Niall likes it when it’s casual and messy and a little rough because they’re both too drunk to hold back. This’s probably not something that he should mention to Louis right now.
“Would you blow Zayn?”
“Yeah,” Niall says. They’ve been friends for long enough for Louis to know better than to ask a question if he didn’t want to get the truth.
“You want to suck Zayn off,” Louis repeats, staring at Niall until Niall can feel his cheeks start to heat. He’s been able to wank but it’s still been eons since he’s got off with someone else. He does want it.
“Could do,” Niall says, steady as he can under the weight of Louis’s stare.
“Would you let him come in your mouth?”
“Okay,” Niall says, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth because he can almost taste it now.
“On your face?”
“I’m not bothered,” Niall says.
“You’d love it,” Louis says, sharp and focused. Niall should have known better than to let Louis smell blood, but he’s not so much afraid of Louis’s bite. Especially when he’s licking his lips like that.
Niall licks his own lips before he catches himself and then he quickly closes his mouth and swallows.
“You want it even more than he does,” Louis says. They have no way of knowing how much Zayn wants it but Niall nods anyway.
Louis takes a step closer without breaking eye contact, then another until they’re standing right in front of each other, an arm's reach away.
“Lou,” Niall whispers. Louis’s mouth is open and his lips are wet. He’s hunched in on himself enough that Niall has to slouch forward so that they’re face to face, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss, but he doesn’t close the remaining distance. “Tell me if you want me to suck you off.”
“You want to suck me off,” Louis murmurs, and Niall nods, straining forward. Louis’s so close, they’re so close.
“Whatever you want,” Niall says, his head spinning with how much he wants Louis to say yes. Louis, who is always one of Niall’s very favorite people, but is almost painfully irresistible like this, coiled and on the cusp of breaking, like maybe there’s a chance he’ll finally let Niall have what he wants.
Louis lets out this loud shaky breath while Niall holds his own, scared to move a muscle in case it sways Louis in the opposite direction.
Louis sucks in a sharp breath and then he surges forward. They kiss hard enough that it hurts, it hurts, it’s so good, oh god, please don’t stop.
Niall clings to Louis’s shoulders, his hips jerking forward to rub up against Louis, his cock absolutely aching where it’s trapped in his jeans. He has to lock his legs because he feels like his knees are made of jelly, his head spinning, breath coming out in high, desperate gasps. Louis bites at his lower lip until it stings, licks over it with his soft tongue, fucks Niall’s mouth. They’re both making tiny noises on top of the wet sounds of the kiss, little aborted moans, like neither of them can keep silent for how good it is. And it is: it’s so, so good.
“Fuck,” Louis says suddenly, spinning away.
He lifts his hand and bites hard on the inside of his wrist, his face all screwed up, cheeks flushed, shoulders heaving.
Niall doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his entire life, and he can’t even imagine what Louis must be feeling, but somehow Louis sucks in one shaky breath, then another until finally he’s able to pull his hand away. He rubs his palms over his cheeks like he’s trying to wipe the flush away, then combs at his fringe until it starts to resemble a quiff again.
It’s shockingly intimate to watch him put himself back together again, and when he turns back around to face Niall, looking a good approximation of calm, Niall feels more out of control than ever.
“You can jerk yourself off,” Louis says, his tone just on the right side of disinterested even though his voice is as raspy as Niall’s ever heard it. “I’ll watch.”
“What?” Niall says. It feels like everything inside of his skull has been replaced with static.
“Quickly,” Louis snaps. “Get yourself off fast, now. Pull your cock out.”
“Oh, god.” Niall pops the button on his jeans but doesn’t bother with the zip, just pushes everything down until he can get his cock in hand. He almost doubles over at the first touch, because fuck is he ever close, but also because it’s fucking weird to be touching himself when every single part of him is primed for Louis Louis Louis.
“I forgot you were left-handed,” Louis says and he sounds strangled. “Go faster. Fuck, that’s weird. Fuck.” He bites at his thumb this time, tucking it into the side of his mouth and setting his molars into the skin. He looks a bit thoughtful, with the rest of his fist tucked by his chin, but he also looks like he’s snarling.
Niall gasps and gives a hard tug on his cock and then when Louis grits out, “Come on, do it,” he does. He comes so hard that he almost falls to the floor, the bottoms of his feet cramping as he curls his toes and tries to keep his balance. Some of the spunk has landed down the front of his trousers and the rest is probably on the floor. He might have wailed a little bit, just at the end. Hopefully Louis didn’t notice.
Niall wipes his hand off on his trousers (those are going to need a wash) and tucks himself back into his pants. He feels bare standing in front of Louis, even now that he’s fully clothed. Bare in the dirty kind of way. The best kind of way.
“Okay,” Louis says, clipped. He pulls his hand away from his mouth and wipes it off on his trackies, mirroring Niall’s movement. There’s a spot of precome wetting the front of his trousers and Niall wants to lick it.
“So, I’ll just. Get on that then.”
“What?” Louis asks. “Oh, right. The plan. Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t -- I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Niall snorts. He feels giggly, but that’s not his fault, since he just came his brains out.
“I’ve got the gist,” Niall says. “Make Zayn come.”
“Or Harry,” Louis says.
“Aww, I can’t do that to Harry. He’s suffering.”
“I thought you wanted to help,” Louis huffs.
“I will,” Niall says, smiling reassuringly. It’s not like it would be a hardship to get Zayn off if he happened to, like, trip and fall in the direction of Zayn’s dick or whatever. That’s just lucky timing.
“I’m going to win this,” Louis says. He rubs his palm over his belly and then pulls his shoulders back, standing up tall. His feet are spread apart. Niall doesn't know how he looks so solid when Niall feels like he’s three seconds away from sliding onto the floor. Everything about Louis looks deadly, except for the shaking hand he has pressed to the base of his neck.
“Yeah,” Niall says, but then there’s not much that Louis could say right now that Niall wouldn’t agree to.
--
Day Twelve
Niall finds Zayn sitting at the table, his chin on his hand as he stares out the window, empty cup of tea resting in front of him. He looks calm, all tucked away in his own space, and it’s not a feeling that Niall can relate to, but he loves seeing it on Zayn.
“You been here for a while then?” Niall asks. Ever since lunch, maybe, which was at least an hour ago. All of them sat around and Niall watched as Harry ate a banana while making steady eye contact with Zayn. Clearly Louis has him on it as well. He isn’t sure what objective Louis gave Harry, but Harry just got steadily more flushed and eventually had to wobble away from the table, while Zayn fixed his hair in the reflection of the bus window and picked idly at his hangnail.
“Just having a bit of a think,” Zayn says.
“About what?” Niall asks.
“Not too sure, if I’m honest,” Zayn says, and Niall laughs, sitting down on the bench beside him.
“Still staying strong?” Niall asks.
Zayn nods, smiling a bit with just one side of his mouth.
“I don’t know how you’re doing it, mate,” Niall says. “You still not feeling it at all?”
“Guess not,” Zayn says in that hazy way he has that makes Niall want to lie down with him somewhere dark and quiet.
Niall runs his hand down the front of his chest to fix the neckline of his vest and carefully ignores the tight bump of his nipple as he skims over it with his palm.
“Louis’s pretty chuffed you got Liam out,” he says, when Zayn doesn’t offer anything else.
Zayn chews on the side of his thumb and drops his gaze with one long sweep of his eyelashes. Three years later and Niall’s still not sure if he does shite like that on purpose. Probably.
“I didn’t mean to,” Zayn says. “That was a bit of an accident.”
“You’re too hot for your own good,” Niall says. He keeps his voice a little gruff, because he’s learned that’s the best way to give compliments: play it cool like it’s just blokes.
Zayn smiles, stays silent. He doesn’t move when Niall leans in closer so that their thighs are pressed close together. Niall twists in his seat so that he can press his hand to the back of Zayn’s neck, thumb coming up to rest at Zayn’s hairline. Zayn tilts his head a little, opening himself up to Niall’s touch.
“Wanna make out?” Niall asks, butting his forehead gently up against Zayn’s cheek.
“Did Louis tell you to do this?” Zayn asks.
“No,” Niall says, truthfully. Louis said to suck him off; he never said anything about kissing.
“I’m not bothered either way,” Zayn says. “He needs all the help he can get.”
“But you don’t?” Niall asks.
“You all keep winding yourselves up. It’s not as hard as you make it seem.”
“Hard,” Niall says, bopping at Zayn’s arm with his elbow.
“I’ve noticed,” Zayn says darkly.
“You, too, though,” Niall says, jerking his chin down at Zayn’s crotch. The thick line of his cock is tenting up the front of his jeans. Niall wants to sit on it but he knows better than to just go for it with Zayn. Zayn likes to be courted a little.
“‘s been a while,” Zayn acknowledges.
“Can I kiss you, then?” Niall asks.
Zayn smiles again, looks up at him from under the impossible sweep of his eyelashes. The line of his jaw is rough from three days of stubble and Niall can feel the phantom tingle on the insides of his thighs but that’s just wishful thinking. Fuck, Zayn could rub him raw. But that’s not -- he just wants a kiss, he’d be happy just to get a kiss.
“You going to try to get me off?” Zayn asks.
“Thanks, mate, but I’m not that good. No one ever creamed themselves just kissing me.”
“Okay,” Zayn says, and then he touches the tip of his finger to the center of his cheek.
Niall blinks and Zayn’s mouth quirks slightly, just a hint of movement, but Niall gets it. He leans in and presses his lips to Zayn’s cheek, a quick peck before he sits back again.
Zayn nods and then touches the same finger to his other cheek.
Niall has to twist up to reach, because Zayn’s looking straight ahead. He braces himself on the back of the seat as he curves around for another brief peck.
This time, Zayn lifts his hand and leaves it dangling in the air until Niall catches his palm and presses a slower kiss to the back of Zayn’s hand. Zayn’s hand is cool and Niall drops his head to press his burning cheek against it before pulling away again. He would really like to drop his head into Zayn’s lap, but he sits back in his seat instead.
“You can tell Louis you got your kiss,” Zayn says. It’s hard to tell from the steady quiet of his voice, but his eyes look happy so Niall doesn’t think he’s too put out.
“Okay,” Niall says.
Zayn starts to push himself off the chair, but just before standing, he reaches up and brushes the tip of his finger against Niall’s bottom lip, a tiny flash of contact before it’s gone. He follows it with an even quicker kiss, catching Niall’s mouth hard enough that he can feel the aftershock twisting all the way down his spine even though Zayn is already gone. Niall licks his lips and tries to catch back the breath Zayn stole away.
Harry comes wandering in not long afterward. He grabs an apple off the counter and sits down beside Niall.
Niall leans over and helps himself to a bite. It’s a good apple and juice sprays when he sinks his teeth in, dripping down the side of Harry’s hand, so he licks that off as well.
Harry blinks slowly at him, and Niall gives him a reassuring pat on the cheek.
“Were you just snogging Zayn?” Harry asks. “You’re all pink.”
“Tried to,” Niall says.
“Snogging Zayn is the best,” Harry says and then bites into his apple wistfully.
Niall knew that Zayn and Harry pulled girls together sometimes, but he didn’t know that they’d also pulled each other. If he’d known, he certainly would have demanded that they let him watch.
“I bet,” Niall says. He licks Harry’s hand again, because there’s more juice running in between his fingers.
“I think I’m going to forfeit, too,” Harry says. “You had the right idea.”
“Don’t do that,” Niall says, pushing the tip of his nose into Harry’s ear. “You’re doing so well.”
“What are orgasms like?” Harry asks. “I can’t even remember.”
“Terrible,” Niall says. “Like a strong sneeze. You’re not missing out.”
“Liar,” Harry says. He lifts his legs and swings them over Niall’s thighs so he’s half-sitting on Niall’s lap. Niall hooks his hand around Harry’s knee to keep him in place.
“Swear,” he says.
“Okay,” Harry murmurs.
Niall strokes his legs while Harry chews on the apple.
--
Day Thirteen
“We have to end this,” Louis hisses furiously as he flings open the curtains of Niall’s bunk.
“What’s that?” Niall asks, and then tries to cough some of the sleep out of his throat. There’s daylight illuminating Louis’s face now that he’s got the curtain open, but it feels like it’s still early as fuck.
“This can’t go on,” Louis says.
“Let’s go make a cup of tea,” Niall says, easing Louis’s fingers out of the death grip they have on the edge of Louis’s curtain and shooing him away until there’s room for Niall to jump out of his bunk.
Louis doesn’t like the way any of the rest of them make tea, so he the one who goes about putting on the kettle and pulling out mugs for them, while Niall sits sleepily on the counter, skillfully ignoring the massive tent pushing out the front of Louis’s pyjama bottoms. Well, he’s not so much ignoring it as he is staring at it. He would really like this stupid contest to be over because no one is letting Niall suck on his cock, and Niall’s been wanting to for days now. Talk about an exercise in endurance.
“Were you having a good dream?” Niall asks as Louis pulls out two teabags.
Louis pauses and then looks up at Niall with the most tragic, disgruntled face that Niall has ever seen. Especially given that Louis also looks like he’s gagging for it.
“There,” Louis says, thrusting a steaming mug at Niall. He takes his own mug and storms off to the back lounge, so Niall follows after him.
Except that Zayn’s already back there, passed out in front of the telly in tight black boxer briefs and a white t-shirt with a stretched out collar.
Niall thinks, oh, shite, and watches while Louis turns steadily purple.
“This is ridiculous,” Louis rages while Zayn slowly blinks himself awake, rubbing at his eyes and finally sitting up on the couch. “You can’t just -- people have to be able to -- I’m trying to have my tea!”
Zayn flaps his hand and stands up slowly.
“All yours, bro,” he says, patting Louis on the hip absently as he tries to pass around him on the way back to the bunks.
Niall winces, but the damage has already been done.
“You’re not even bothered,” Louis shouts, his hands flying around in the air.
“What’s that?” Zayn asks, rubbing one palm over his shoulder and squinting.
“You’re seriously not bothered,” Louis repeats. “How is that possible. Are you cheating? Fuck, are you --” He trails off, snapping his mouth shut and exhaling sharply through his nose. He appears to be rebuffed under the silent weight of Zayn’s stare, and of course he is. Niall is squirming just from what he can see of it across the room.
Zayn takes a step forward, then another one, crowding up into Louis’s space and then all the rest of the way until he’s right there, pressed up against him. Louis’s mouth drops open as he throws his head back, jerking against the steady grind of Zayn’s hips. Zayn’s got a thigh between his legs, the two of them locked together, even as Louis’s hands hang in tight fists at his sides. Zayn’s palm flattens to Louis’s lower back and he rocks forward and up, and, oh. Niall pushes his hand over his mouth because he’s worried he’s going to make a noise from how hard he’s gotten just from watching. He doesn’t know how Louis is just standing there.
“Who says I’m not bothered,” Zayn says, and then he pulses forward in this dirty grind that has Niall chewing on the side of his tongue. He circles his hips one last time, slow and raw and mean, and then he pulls back and walks away, leaving Louis standing in the center of the room. His head slumps forward like all the strings have been cut.
“That’s okay,” Niall says quickly. He reaches out to give Louis a reassuring shoulder squeeze, but Louis is already storming off.
Harry’s walking down the narrow aisle as Louis stomps away, and even in his rage, Louis pauses for half a moment to twist Harry’s nipple as he passes by.
“What happened?” Harry asks, coming up to stand beside Niall. “Did someone else get out? Are we done now? Can I go wank?”
“No,” Niall says, absently, as he stares at Louis’s retreating back.
--
Part Two
OT5 (various other side pairings) | NC-17 | ~ 20,000 words
And then Louis says, “I bet £10,000 I could go longer without wanking than all of you,” which was probably his first mistake.
In which Louis has some regrets, Liam isn’t worried, Niall wants to help, Harry tries to forfeit, and Zayn may or may not be bothered.
With gratitude to randominity for the encouragement, and massive, massive thanks to threeturn for not just plotting this out with me but also fixing it afterwards!
Part One
Day Zero
It starts because Louis steps on a condom.
He doesn’t realize it’s a condom at first. His foot slides forward in a sudden rush as he makes his way down the aisle between the bunks. He catches himself before he falls backwards and looks down, half expecting to find one of Harry’s banana peels. He hopes it’s a banana peel, because tripping over a banana peel would be hilarious. If he’d tripped over a banana peel, he could tweet about it and then leave it under Harry’s pillow as revenge.
Instead, it’s a used condom. A condom that someone used, then threw to the ground, which Louis is now touching with the bare skin of his foot. Damned if he’s going to start wearing socks but, ew, oh bollocks, that’s touching his bare skin. Can he get herpes through his foot?
He doesn’t know whose pillow to leave it under, so instead he hollers at the top of his lungs, “Band meeting!”
Niall pops over quickly enough, Liam next, and eventually Harry, and then they have to send Niall back to collect Zayn, who’s napping in the back of the bus, but finally they’re all there.
“We already said no to a taco night,” Zayn says, draping himself across Niall’s shoulders and rubbing at the sleep crease in his cheek.
“This is not about tacos,” Louis says darkly. “Although that was certainly one of the greatest mistakes you’ll ever make. Harry would cook and then we’d eat tacos; I can’t believe this is even up for discussion.”
“Too many beans for Nialler,” Liam says. “I have to sleep under him.”
Harry rubs at his chin thoughtfully and says, “There’s not a real kitchen. How would I be able to cook for all of you, and I’d also have to make some for the crew because otherwise that wouldn’t be fair, would it? I guess I could do it in batches but we’d need to find some extra bowls. There were some great bowls at this shop I was at in Austin but I didn’t buy them.”
Louis rolls his eyes so hard that he can see the inside of his eye socket and says, “Cheers, Harry. Never speak again. This isn’t about taco night.” He crosses his arms across his chest and levels a stern glare at each of the boys, one by one. “This is about one of you leaving your rubber on the floor and I just stepped on it and you’re disgusting and no longer allowed to sleep on the same bus as me. Who was it?”
Niall starts chortling almost immediately, his face going red as he cackles and slaps at his thigh, while Liam, Zayn and Harry all looked appropriately grossed out but also like they’re just moments away from starting to laugh with Niall.
It could be any of them.
“I’m serious,” Louis says. “The depravity must end. Whoever did this is off the bus and bunking with the crew.”
“Come off it, Lou,” Zayn says. “It was probably just a mistake.”
“You?” Louis asks, clutching at his chest. “My own partner in crime and you would do this to me?”
“It wasn’t me,” Zayn says, shaking his head and giving the most disgruntled and betrayed look Louis has ever seen. Which means very little, given that Zayn gave that exact same look when he found Louis used up the last of the milk so there was none left for his tea this morning.
“Zayn doesn’t use condoms,” Harry says, and then laughs to himself at Zayn’s outraged face.
“Okay, Safe Sex, thanks for fessing up,” Louis says.
“I didn’t have sex on the bus last night,” Harry says, holding both hands up.
“Yeah, we all heard you getting off in the supply cupboard after the meet and greet,” Niall says. “And don’t even look at me, Lou. The bunks are too claustrophobic for me to try to have a shag in.”
“He did say he found the condom on the aisle, not in the bunks,” Liam points out.
“So it was probably you then,” Niall says. “Every time I catch you mid-shag you’re standing, upside down, whatever kama sutra bullshite.”
“Speaking of - learn to knock,” Liam says.
“That’s alright,” Harry says, cupping his hand around the back of Niall’s neck. “Liam’s still figuring out how to be single. You have to let him have his jollies.”
“Says the shagger of the year.”
“The point is: who was it, tell me now, this has to end,” Louis says. “I need to go bathe my foot in acid.”
“As if it’s worse than listening to you wank off every night,” Liam says.
“Excuse you. I’m silent.”
Niall throws his head back and starts gasping, “Ah, ah, ahhh,” in which might be a good imitation of Louis having an orgasm if not for the fact that he’s sure he never makes a sound.
“Niall,” Louis exclaims. “You literally ripped a hole in your sheets when you were tossing off last month.”
Harry snorts and Louis points at him. “And you always make this sound like you’re crying, and you,” he says, pointing at Liam, “always rock the whole bus. And everyone can tell when you’re sexting,” he finishes, pointing at Zayn. “The whole lot of you are randy bastards.”
“You’re just as bad,” Harry says.
“I could go twice as long without having sex as you could,” Louis says, which is not normally something he would brag about, but desperate times.
“Because you wank off twice as much,” Harry says.
“I wank less than all of you!”
Niall starts laughing again, which. Rude.
“I do.”
“Let’s just go finish the movie,” Liam says. “We’re going to be pulling over for supper soon.”
“I do!” Louis shouts.
“There is absolutely no way that you could go longer than I could, but I know you’re upset because you stepped on Harry’s rude leftover, so why don’t we just --”
“Excuse me, Liam,” Harry says. “As I already explained, that wasn’t mine.”
“You could not.” Louis scowls at Liam, incensed.
Zayn’s still leaning against the wall, doing a good impression of a drugged sloth, which is why it’s that much more of a betrayal when he says, “He probably could.”
“I could definitely go longer than you,” Louis shoots back.
Zayn scoffs and actually stands up straight for the first time. There’s still a red line across his cheek from his nap. He makes a duckface and shakes his head at Louis.
And then Louis says, “I bet £10,000 I could go longer without wanking than any of you,” which was probably his first mistake.
--
Day One
The first day is brutal.
Louis thought it was supposed to start easy and get harder but it’s actually exceedingly hard all day long. Specifically his cock, which he has to continually wrangle under the waistband of his jeans so it doesn’t tent out the front obscenely. He’s only gone without his morning wank in the shower, and that’s not unheard of, but the fact that he knows he can’t jerk off later if he wants to renders him unable to stop thinking about it. His body probably isn’t as worked up as his mind is, but mother fuck on a cheese cake, he can’t stop thinking about his dick.
He flops onto the couch beside Liam and sighs loudly. They’ve still got another hour until the concert. He’s already got his hair done and his dick is fully outraged at the idea of no orgasms in the foreseeable future. Everything is terrible and there are no distractions, except Liam, who’s really at fault for all of this.
“Sometimes I have ideas,” Louis says. “You don’t always have to listen to me.”
“The last time I didn’t listen to you, you super glued all of my socks together. And that was about climbing on top of the bus while it was still moving. I’m pretty sure that you do want everyone to listen to you all the time.” Liam has his head dropped as he stares at the phone on his lap. His chin bumps up against his chest when he talks.
“That was different,” Louis says. “You should only listen to me when I have good ideas.”
“You think all of your ideas are good ideas.”
“Well, I’m just saying. If everyone didn’t keep riling me up then we wouldn’t always end up in these situations,” Louis huffs. “It’s hardly my fault.”
“About the wanking?”
“Obviously.”
“You could just call if off,” Liam suggests.
“You call it off,” Louis says. “You all call it off and admit that I’ve won.”
“I’m still doing okay,” Liam says, with a slightly apologetic shrug. “I mean, it has only been like 23 hours.”
“I know that,” Louis snaps. “Everything is fine, stop talking to me.” And then he kicks at Liam’s thighs until he gets up and leaves Louis and Louis’s permaboner to have the couch to themselves.
--
They play the show and climb back on the bus. Louis heads straight for his bunk and spends a couple of hours Skyping with his family. When he leaves again, Zayn’s curtains are already closed and Liam’s in his bunk with his headphones in. Louis taps his fingers against Liam’s ankle as he passes by and heads to the back lounge.
The telly’s on but the sound is muted. Harry and Niall are curled together on the couch. Harry’s managed to twist himself up so that he can rest his head on Niall’s chest, his cheek all smushed against Niall’s ribcage.
He doesn’t move except to bend his knees, wrapping himself even tighter around Niall and hooking his feet over Niall’s calves so there’s a little room at the end of the couch for Louis to sit.
“Are either of you ready to admit defeat?” Louis asks.
Neither of them respond. Niall pets Harry’s hair into a slightly neater pile, pushing it away from where it was tickling his nipple.
“Me neither,” Louis says.
--
Day Two
Day two is even worse, so Louis is forced to duct tape Liam’s hands to his nipples. He was just trying to duct tape Liam’s nipples to themselves, but Liam’s hands got in the way, so what did he expect was going to happen.
He gives Liam a little grope while Liam’s hands are occupied. Liam screams bloody murder, but Louis felt his dick and it was not 100% flaccid. If Louis has to be hard, everyone has to be hard. He spends the rest of the day grabbing as many of their dicks as he can, which is working great until, acting on pure instinct after a full day of cockgrabs, he goes for Paul’s and ends up locked in a storage closet for three hours.
--
Day Three
They have an interview and photoshoot, then a concert, and everyone meets for drinks in the lobby afterwards, so by the time Louis makes it to his bunk, he’s tired enough to sleep and tipsy enough not to mind that he’s still hard.
“How are we all doing then?” Louis asks the bus. “Anyone have anything they want to share with the class?”
“Stuff it, Tommo,” Niall says from across the aisle. He sounds a little pained, which Louis finds comforting.
“I miss sex,” Harry says, sadly.
“I miss sleeping,” Zayn says in a quiet way that clearly hints he knows at least fourteen places he could hide their bodies.
He’s probably also suffering, Louis assumes. Everyone is probably suffering. Maybe this wasn’t Louis’s worst idea after all.
--
Day Four
“Problems?” Louis asks, coming up beside Harry as Harry struggles with the flies of his jeans. They just had a radio call-in this afternoon and now there’s a solid two hours with nothing scheduled before the show. Louis remembers when two hours didn’t even seem like long enough for a good nap, but now it’s a monstrous amount of time to be left to his own devices.
“It’s fine,” Harry says. He lifts the elastic waist of his pants to hold his cock back while he eases the zip up over the bulk of his erection.
“Admit it,” Louis says. “You’re dying for a wank.”
Harry sighs, his fingers twitching at his flies before he folds them carefully away.
“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Harry says. “But now every time I go for a wank, I picture all the kids dying of malaria.”
It was Zayn’s idea to donate the money lost in the bet to Invisible Children and Liam’s idea that they never ever tell anyone where the money came from.
“That’s weird, even for you,” Louis says.
“You’re not doing any better,” Harry says, nodding down at Louis’s crotch.
“Mind your eyes,” Louis says. His hand flutters before he realizes that he can’t hide his boner by covering it with his hand. And also that it’s better to keep his hands as far away from his prick as possible.
He exhales slowly and Harry mimics the sound, not like he’s teasing but like he’s feeling the same tightening pull as Louis, that low tug of wanting that makes him breathless.
“You can always give just up,” Louis offers, keeping his voice gentle.
Harry nods and then catches himself, looking thoughtful.
“I might,” Harry allows. “But also, like. I think I want to win?”
“Really?” Louis asks.
Harry shrugs. He’s so soft and pink on the outside, but Louis knows he’s stubborn as fuck underneath. He just doesn’t show it very often.
“It would be funny, right?” Harry asks. “If I won.”
“It certainly would be something,” Louis says. The first sign of an apocalypse, probably. Harry’s stubborn, but he’s also the easiest person Louis knows. Which is one of his favorite things about Harry, obviously, but if Harry can last longer than the rest of them? They probably need some help.
Harry chews on his lower lip and shrugs at Louis.
“Okay,” Louis says, sharply. “Ten minute truce.”
He ushers Harry into the first room he finds unlocked, which turns out to be a little conference room. Louis sits at the the head of the table and eyes the phone just in front of him. Prank calls are always a good distraction.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Louis snaps. He’s still looking straight ahead at the phone but he can feel Harry’s gaze on the side of his face.
Harry leans forward and clasps his hands in front of himself on the table.
“‘m not,” he says. “Are we going to jack off now?”
“What?” Louis yelps. “No! What the fuck do you think truce means?”
“I don’t know,” Harry whines.
“Wanking isn’t a truce, it’s giving up. I’m not giving up,” Louis says. He would really, really like to give up. He thought it would be fine, but it turns out he needs, like, just the regular amount of orgasms. One to three orgasms a day. He’s getting even harder now, sat here kitty-corner to Harry, thinking about all the dick touching he is not going to get to do tonight. Why does everyone always have to listen to the words that come out of his mouth? They’re only words until other people make them real.
“Didn’t you just say you wanted to win?” Louis reminds him. It’s easier when he focuses on other people.
“Lou,” Harry says, lowly. “I think maybe--”
“What?” Louis says.
“Maybe I won’t win?” Harry offers, turning it into a question. His thighs flex, legs pulling further open as he squirms in his chair. He’s close enough that his elbow bumps up against Louis’s forearm when he moves. Close enough that it would be nothing for Louis to drop his hand under the table, rub his palm over the thick line of his cock. He knows what it feels like because sometimes when they were still teenagers, and very, very silly, they would rub each other off. It really did seem silly then, but right now it seems like --
Louis forces himself to breath out slow and and steady as he can manage. Harry licks his lips. It’s been years since Louis’s touched his prick. It doesn’t seem silly now.
“No,” Louis snaps, pushing himself away from the table. “I said it was a truce. Stop trying to -- just stop. We need to get ready for the show.”
He marches himself out of the room without looking back to see if Harry’s following, but pauses to hold the door open behind himself because of course Harry is going to follow. They walk down the hallway together while Louis tries to find the most populated section of the venue. It would be better not to be alone right now.
This is a worse idea than the time he dared Niall to eat straight mayonnaise and then do a handstand.
They wander into the green room, where Zayn is lying, shirtless, on the couch. He’s all soft and sleepy, stretched out in this long line, his tattoos standing out in stark relief against his smooth skin. One of his hands rests behind his head and he blinks slowly when the door opens, looking up and smiling in that unguarded way he has when it’s just them, like he’s just genuinely, sweetly happy to see his boys.
“Well you can just fuck yourself to hell and back,” Louis says, turning on his heel and storming out of the room.
--
That night he doesn’t say anything before bed, just lies in the dark with one hand wrapped around his cock, holding on to it without moving. It helps. A little.
--
Day Five
They’re still going to be on the road for at least another three hours and Louis’s restless so he wanders up and down the aisle. He’s moving in between the bunks when a sound stops him. Generally they’ve got an unspoken rule not to pester anyone once he’s got his curtains closed, but this is ground zero and the times are far from general.
Louis pauses, strains to hear, and, yeah. That’s definitely a wet, rhythmic, unmistakable sound coming from Niall’s bunk. There used to be a time in his life when he wasn’t delighted to hear his bandmates wanking, Louis is pretty sure.
“Oh my god. Niall, are you wanking? Niall, are you in there wanking?” Louis asks, tapping at the curtain with a soft fist.
“Yeah,” Niall says, grunting a little like he’s giving himself one last squeeze before there’s the rustling sound of clothing being pulled up.
“You’ve given up already?” Louis asks, delighted. All of his plans are coming into place. Nothing feels as good as sweet victory. “You’re admitting that you lose?”
“I’ve been out for two days,” Niall says. He pulls the curtain back, all pink cheeks and bright blond hair in the darkness of his bunk.
“What?” Louis flaps his arms in outrage. “Were you ever planning on telling any of us?”
“I left my cheque on the fridge,” Niall says. “Thought you already knew.”
“You did not,” Louis says, spinning on his heel and marching over to the kitchen. On the fridge, held up by a We Do It Bigger In Texas magnet that seems to be vaguely in the shape of a cock, is a cheque signed by Niall. There’s a spot of what looks like barbeque sauce on the edge of it.
“It’s not my fault that you were being sneaky,” Louis says once he’s sulked back to Niall’s bunk.
Niall has his hand resting low on his stomach, just above the bulge in his trackies. His cheeks have bloomed a dark red, but Louis doesn’t know if that’s from being caught or from all of the wanking he was doing. With his hand on his cock. His hand is currently on his belly, but before it was wrapped around his cock, and he was pulling himself off, and he was going to come. Louis would really like to come. It’s probably the only thing in this world that would come close to feeling as good as sweet victory, but. He has to focus.
“It’s on the fridge,” Niall says. “Don’t know where would be more noticeable than the fridge.”
“Well, anyway,” Louis says, “you caved. Now you can help me get everyone else out.”
“Umm,” Niall says, which sounds a lot like yes.
--
Part Two
Day Seven
Liam doesn’t want to be a jerk, but he doesn’t know what everyone is making such a fuss about. Sure it’s nice to wank in the shower sometimes, but he’s just been doubling up on cardio and mostly he’s doing fine. He’s going to win this and then he’s going to be able to brag about it forever.
“Really?” Niall asks. “Fine?”
“Yeah,” Liam says. He feels a bit apologetic, but he’s not sure why, given that Niall got himself out already and is therefore the one person that Liam is definitely allowed to be honest around. Louis goes purple when Liam hints that he’s still hanging strong, and Harry’s been spending an awful lot of time rubbing his own thighs. Zayn’s the only one who still seems normal, but then discussions on wanking habits were never a big part of their pre-bet friendship.
“Totally fine?” Niall asks. “You don’t miss it at all?”
“Umm,” Liam says. “It’s only been one week?”
Niall humphs, which must mean Louis had been looking for a different answer. Niall doesn’t usually ask questions out of his own curiosity. It’s a bit strange that he’s been trying to help Louis out, but he hasn’t been doing a very good job at it. Louis and Niall are about a subtle as a bowling ball on a spaceship. Would that be subtle? It would probably float around and hit everyone on the head, but Liam isn’t exactly sure how gravity works.
“You can tell him I woke up with a boner this morning if that’ll make him happy,” Liam offers. This didn’t use to be his life, but he also didn’t used to be able to sell out arenas, so he’ll take it.
“Awesome,” Niall says. “It cheers him up a lot when he thinks that other people are suffering as much as he is.”
“No one is suffering as much as he is,” Liam says.
“I know,” Niall says, sighing the sigh of someone who has heard exactly how much Louis is suffering.
“He’s trying to turn us against each other,” Liam says.
Niall nods. He’s got the sparkle that comes with being able to wank freely and it’s making him look extra pink and relaxed and cheerful. Like how he always looks, except turned up to eleven. Liam’s fine, but he’s not relaxed. His body is aching something fierce from all the extra time he’s been spending at the gym and he thinks he might have pulled a muscle in his back when he was doing deadlifts yesterday.
“Does he really think it’s going to work?” Liam asks.
“Is it?” Niall asks.
“Well, he cut the sleeves off all of my t-shirts,” Liam says, “but no one is out of the game because of it, so now I need to find some new t-shirts.”
Niall laughs. “He bought Harry a box of ice lollies and said he should spend more time sucking on things.”
“I noticed that,” Liam says, feeling himself start to frown before he works his mouth into a more neutral expression. He’s never seen someone look quite so currish while deep throating an ice lolly. It was a bit distracting.
“Harry’s suffering,” Niall says.
“What about you?” Liam asks.
“Me?”
“What does Louis have you doing?”
“He told me to stand around and look available.”
“Yeah?” Liam asks. He can see both Niall’s nipples through the thin fabric of his vest.
Niall gives a shrug that probably means: hard to be more available than I already am, Liam’s not sure, that’s just the message he’s getting right now. It’s been a bit difficult to focus.
Liam forces himself to blink. They were talking about something.
“He told Zayn to start wearing a bag over his head because he was finding his face counterproductive,” says Liam after what is probably just a reasonable pause.
Niall throws his head back and cackles, looking so loose and joyous in his body that Liam feel even tenser in comparison.
“Anyway,” Liam says, “I need to go for a run now,” and then he bolts.
--
Day Eight
Luckily Liam already has years of practice, because Louis seems to think that the best way to get Liam out is to wank him off himself. He keeps going for Liam’s dick, even in the middle of interviews. Which is actually no different than any other series of interviews, except that this time Louis wants to get Liam to come instead of just embarrass himself, or whatever his goals usually are. Liam’s used to Louis wanting to make it hurt or humiliate, and it’s always for the sake of a good laugh so Liam doesn’t mind, but he’s not used to Louis like this.
“Stop,” Liam hisses. He was in the middle of answering a question so Louis managed to wiggle his fingers into Liam’s lap and now has his hand wrapped around Liam’s cock. As much as he can manage through Liam’s jeans, anyway. They’re doing a radio interview and there’s a table in front of them so probably no one has noticed, and even if they have: not the first time this has been caught on film.
The only thing that is a first is that Liam’s gone quickly, achingly hard. It’s not his fault, because Louis is clearly trying to make him hard and it has been over a week, but Liam’s so embarrassed that his stomach is sore with it. He wants Louis’s hand gone because, in spite of everything, it feels good.
“Stop,” he whispers again, pulling futilely at Louis’s wrist. Every time he tries to wrench Louis’s hand away, Louis just tightens his fingers, holding on hard enough that it actually hurts a little.
Which still isn’t doing anything to bring Liam’s hard-on down, no matter how many angry thoughts he sends to his prick.
“I’m just trying to help,” Louis whispers, rocking the heel of his hand down when Liam finally stops trying to push him away. He rubs his palm in a firm stroke over Liam’s cock and even though the thick denim, it feels incredible. Amazingly, horribly incredible.
It’s not fair that Louis knows how to touch him like this.
Liam drops his own hands over Louis’s. He can’t pull him away, but under the heavy weight of Liam’s hands, at least Louis isn’t able to rub. It’s still torture because they’re both pressing down on Liam’s cock, but Liam doesn’t feel like he’s going to cream his trousers in the middle of an interview, so. That’s something.
Finally the interview ends and everyone stands. Liam pulls his t-shirt down as far as it can go, which is rather less far than he’d like it to be, but hopefully still good enough to cover the worst of the bulge. From the little smile Louis gives him after glancing pointedly downward, maybe it’s not even managing to do that.
Liam starts taking off with the rest of the group and jumps when Louis catches his elbow and tries to lead him into the toilets instead.
“What are you doing?” Liam snaps, skittering away from Louis’s grabbing hands.
“Finishing what I started,” Louis says and he sounds genuinely affronted, like he can’t even imagine why Liam would be asking the question.
“No,” Liam says, jogging away before Louis can get near him. He looks over his shoulder and there’s this brief moment where he knows that he could stop, wrestle it out long enough to make it look like he’d put up a good fight before letting Louis win. He could have Louis’s hand on his dick and Louis would get him off. Liam can feel himself getting even harder just thinking about it, his cock kicking wetly in his pants.
He drops his head and keeps running before his dick can convince his brain that staying still is actually the better idea.
Louis lets him go.
--
He finds Harry in the green room a few hours before the concert. Everyone else is off running amuck, so the dressing room is actually the quietest place to be. Liam’s surprised to walk in on Harry, and Harry seems even more surprised to be walked in on by Liam, judging from the hand he has stuffed down the front of his jeans.
“Whoops,” Liam says. “Sorry!” Then, “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Playing cards,” Harry says slowly, but there’s a little quiver in the back of his voice. He’s pulled his hand out, but it’s still resting on his lap, palm pressed flat to the bulge that Liam can make out, even from the other side of the room.
“Harry,” Liam says, folding his arms. “You can’t just give up. We all have to stick this out. Someone has to beat Louis.”
“You stick it out,” Harry says. His fingers twitch in his lap.
“We all have to stay in as long as possible. Better odds.” Liam gives him a very earnest and inspiring head nod. He can tell it’s inspiring, because Harry’s frown deepens.
And, okay. He’s not going to admit it to Harry, but really he just wants to make sure that it doesn’t come down to only him and Louis. As it is, Louis’s attention is somewhat divided. Liam saw him groping Harry when they were changing after the show last night, and there was quite a commotion this morning when he tried to climb into Zayn’s bunk. At least with other people to distract him, Louis hasn’t turned his full attention to Liam.
Liam really wants to win this. He knows he can. He just needs Louis distracted.
“Come on,” Liam says encouragingly, walking over and pulling Harry up by the wrist. “Let’s find you something to eat.”
“I just had that hand down my pants,” Harry says as Liam leads him over to the spread.
Liam almost falters, but it’s too late for that now.
“Here, eat a banana,” he says, grabbing at the nearest piece of fruit and shoving it at Harry. “Wait, no,” he catches himself at the last moment and snatches the fruit back. “Do not eat a banana. Have some grapes.”
The grapes were a better idea, but it turns out that getting Harry to sprawl on the couch, his cock still visibly hard in his jeans while he puts things in his mouth, was not Liam’s strongest suggestion.
He’s still going to win this.
--
Day Nine
Liam spends all morning at the gym, even though his back is still killing him from earlier in the week, and once he’s showered and back on his bus, he regrets the entire series of events that have led him to this place: hiding out in the back lounge, terrified that Louis is going to walk in. It’s not that he’s having trouble with the bet, because he’s not. It’s just that Louis’s constant grabbing at his dick has him thinking constantly about his dick, and his dick keeps throbbing angrily back at him. His entire body aches from overuse and he’s somehow simultaneously tired and strung out, and just. Bah. Cranky.
He’s worked himself into quite a sulk and he just wants to be alone to stew in the uncomfortable prison of his body.
“Sorry,” Zayn says, backing away immediately under the force of Liam’s glare when he opens the door to the back lounge where Liam’s sat rewatching the last Batman movie.
“I thought you were Louis,” Liam says. He tries to soften the glare off his face. It’s not Zayn’s fault.
“I’ll go,” Zayn says, but Liam feels guilty so he says, “No, it’s okay. You want to watch with me?”
Zayn comes over and sits at the far end of the couch, because Zayn is brilliant and understands about boundaries. Liam has four favorite members of the band, but Zayn is definitely one of them.
He settles in and feels himself start to relax. Or, he would relax except that his back has start screaming at him, this thin line of agony down his left side that radiates up the base of his neck. Batman is currently waiting for his spine to regrow, which is totally sick, but it’s not helping take Liam’s mind off his own aching back.
Shifting carefully, he reaches around and tries to rub into the line of pain, huffing when he’s not able to reach.
“You alright, mate?” Zayn asks.
“Messed up my back a bit,” Liam says.
“You’ve been pushing really hard,” says Zayn.
“I try,” Liam says, sounding a little sadder than he means to. It’s just that he does try and it’s not fair that it still always feels so hard. It turns out that not wanking makes him extra mopey, which is a bit of an unfortunate discovery.
“Aww, babes,” Zayn says, scooting across the couch and squeezing Liam’s shoulder.
When Liam doesn’t cringe away, he reaches his other hand around so that he can rub at both Liam’s shoulders, draped behind Liam. Zayn’s hands are firm, kneading carefully and it feels so good that Liam shivers a little.
“You want a backrub?” Zayn asks after a long stretch of silence.
Liam realizes that both of his eyes are closed, his head dropped forward in a slump even as he presses his shoulder back into Zayn’s touch. He lifts his head and blinks. Isn’t Zayn already giving him a backrub?
“Like, properly,” Zayn says after Liam gives him confused eyebrows. Zayn always understands Liam’s eyebrows. He’s like a genius. He’s like Alfred. Liam’s like Batman, but just during the bits when he’s broken and useless.
“I could get on the floor?” Liam asks.
“Just lie down,” Zayn says, dropping off the side of the couch to make room for Liam to stretch out on his front.
Zayn reaches for him again, but this time he can sweep his hands all the way down the stretch of Liam’s back and it’s so, so good. Liam cannot even believe how good it feels. Maybe Zayn is Batman.
“Hey,” Zayn says quietly, like he’s noticed that Liam’s eyes have slipped closed again. “I’m going to sit on you, okay? I can’t reach like this.”
"Yeah,” Liam says, marveling a little at how thick and slow his voice sounds, like it’s not even his voice any more.
Zayn settles carefully over him, but he’s light as anything and Liam can hardly feel him. It’s better like this, though. Zayn is able to put more pressure into the slow rub of his palms up and down Liam’s back and it draws up this low ache in the sore muscles that’s so good Liam can feel his toes curl. He’s hard, dick pushed into the plush cushions with each careful sweep of Zayn’s hands, but Liam’s on his front, so Zayn won’t know. He’ll have to figure out something when it’s time to stand again, but for now it’s okay.
Zayn digs his thumbs in on either side of Liam’s spine and starts working in tight circles before fanning out. He finds the knot that hurts the worst and presses into it with strong fingers, pulling the low grade ache into a sharp spread that grows and grows until finally it eases back again, and Liam groans into the pillow under his head because he doesn’t have any other way of saying what a relief it is.
“It was there, right?” Zayn says from very far away.
“Yeah,” Liam mumbles, feeling his shoulders flex reflexively under Zayn’s knowing touch.
Everything he does feels good now that the knot is gone and Liam keeps shivering under Zayn’s fingertips. He doesn’t even know what his body is doing because he can’t make his brain work right now. Zayn must be sitting on his arse, because Liam can finally feel his weight, the grounding press of Zayn bearing him down against the cushions. He likes how steady Zayn feels, even as it seems like his own head is going to fly away. He arches, moves into Zayn’s hands, rubbing back against him, letting Zayn rock him forward.
His entire body feels like it’s melting into honey, so slow and sweet, easy under the rhythm of Zayn working him over. He’s making nonsense noises into the couch, and Zayn keeps saying these quiet, soothing things. For this long moment, everything is perfect: the low, steady pleasure finally sparks into something real that has him shaking apart. His hips jerk wildly, even as Zayn’s weight holds him down, and Liam moans softly as he comes in slow steady pulses that crest so gently.
He gasps and then freezes, suddenly realizing what happened. His whole body stills as a wave of shame swallows him up.
Zayn says, “Umm,” and stops moving his hands.
“Oh, fuck,” Liam says. He twists away, rolling out from under Zayn and flinging himself off the couch. He lands on the floor on his arse, and brings his knees up to his chest, curling in on his treacherous dick.
“Umm,” Zayn says again, his arms crossed over his chest. He bites down hard on his lower lip.
“Oh my god,” Liam says, so embarrassed he thinks his head might burst into flames. “I can’t believe that happened.”
“It’s okay,” Zayn says. He’s looking at Liam so intently that Liam can’t stand it because he feels like he might get hard again. Even after everything.
“I’m sorry,” Liam says, and flees to his bunk.
The only plus side to this whole disaster is that now he’s free to wank off again. He sticks his hand down his jeans and starts to pull himself off, hand slicked with the mess from where he creamed himself.
--
Part Three
Day Ten
With Liam out, Louis is almost unbearable. Niall loves it. He probably should be enjoying this a little less unabashedly, but he can’t help himself. Louis is cranky and sharp, constantly scheming, pestering Niall nonstop during their downtime and it’s fun. The money’s just for charity so Niall isn’t too worried about keeping it fair, and anyone could have asked him for help, it’s just that Louis thought to do it first.
But even though Niall’s having a blast, he still thinks this might be pushing it too far.
“I’m not sure that it would work,” Niall says, carefully.
“Of course it would work,” Louis says.
“It’s not really... in the intent of the bet.”
“I came up with this bloody bet, I can say what’s in the intent.”
“But hiring a prostitute to seduce Zayn? ‘s a bit dire.”
“Desperate times,” Louis says grimly.
“I just think he might be put out.”
“God, Niall,” Louis gripes. “Why don’t you just marry him already?”
Niall shrugs. Not really, but there could certainly be worse things than being married to Zayn. He always smells really good and he gives better hugs than anyone else in the world.
“Actually,” Louis says. He gives him a long, considering look. Niall’s gut twists anxiously and he wonders what’s wrong with himself that he’s still dying to hear what Louis has come up with now.
“Maybe we don’t need to hire someone. You and Zayn get along pretty well.”
“Zayn’s great,” Niall agrees.
Louis frowns.
“You’re great, too,” Niall says quickly.
“Well, yes, of course. But try to stay focused. You can get Zayn out. And a strong breeze in the right direction will get Harry out and then I will win!”
“How am I supposed to get Zayn out?” Niall asks. He’s glad that Louis isn’t asking him to go after Harry, because he does feel a bit sorry for the lad.
“Catch him after one of his naps,” Louis says immediately. “When he’s all sleepy and helpless. He probably won’t be wearing a shirt.”
“You’ve been thinking about this a lot,” Niall notes.
“Someone has to come up with a plan.”
“And then what?” Niall asks.
“Have you ever sucked off a bloke?” Louis asks.
“Yeah,” Niall says.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you like it?”
“Sure,” Niall says. He doesn’t want to make this awkward, especially with how intently Louis is now staring at his mouth, but he’s sucked off rather a lot of blokes. On the long list of Niall’s favorite things to do, having a few pints and exchanging sloppy blowies with mates is pretty high up there. Niall likes it when it’s casual and messy and a little rough because they’re both too drunk to hold back. This’s probably not something that he should mention to Louis right now.
“Would you blow Zayn?”
“Yeah,” Niall says. They’ve been friends for long enough for Louis to know better than to ask a question if he didn’t want to get the truth.
“You want to suck Zayn off,” Louis repeats, staring at Niall until Niall can feel his cheeks start to heat. He’s been able to wank but it’s still been eons since he’s got off with someone else. He does want it.
“Could do,” Niall says, steady as he can under the weight of Louis’s stare.
“Would you let him come in your mouth?”
“Okay,” Niall says, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth because he can almost taste it now.
“On your face?”
“I’m not bothered,” Niall says.
“You’d love it,” Louis says, sharp and focused. Niall should have known better than to let Louis smell blood, but he’s not so much afraid of Louis’s bite. Especially when he’s licking his lips like that.
Niall licks his own lips before he catches himself and then he quickly closes his mouth and swallows.
“You want it even more than he does,” Louis says. They have no way of knowing how much Zayn wants it but Niall nods anyway.
Louis takes a step closer without breaking eye contact, then another until they’re standing right in front of each other, an arm's reach away.
“Lou,” Niall whispers. Louis’s mouth is open and his lips are wet. He’s hunched in on himself enough that Niall has to slouch forward so that they’re face to face, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss, but he doesn’t close the remaining distance. “Tell me if you want me to suck you off.”
“You want to suck me off,” Louis murmurs, and Niall nods, straining forward. Louis’s so close, they’re so close.
“Whatever you want,” Niall says, his head spinning with how much he wants Louis to say yes. Louis, who is always one of Niall’s very favorite people, but is almost painfully irresistible like this, coiled and on the cusp of breaking, like maybe there’s a chance he’ll finally let Niall have what he wants.
Louis lets out this loud shaky breath while Niall holds his own, scared to move a muscle in case it sways Louis in the opposite direction.
Louis sucks in a sharp breath and then he surges forward. They kiss hard enough that it hurts, it hurts, it’s so good, oh god, please don’t stop.
Niall clings to Louis’s shoulders, his hips jerking forward to rub up against Louis, his cock absolutely aching where it’s trapped in his jeans. He has to lock his legs because he feels like his knees are made of jelly, his head spinning, breath coming out in high, desperate gasps. Louis bites at his lower lip until it stings, licks over it with his soft tongue, fucks Niall’s mouth. They’re both making tiny noises on top of the wet sounds of the kiss, little aborted moans, like neither of them can keep silent for how good it is. And it is: it’s so, so good.
“Fuck,” Louis says suddenly, spinning away.
He lifts his hand and bites hard on the inside of his wrist, his face all screwed up, cheeks flushed, shoulders heaving.
Niall doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his entire life, and he can’t even imagine what Louis must be feeling, but somehow Louis sucks in one shaky breath, then another until finally he’s able to pull his hand away. He rubs his palms over his cheeks like he’s trying to wipe the flush away, then combs at his fringe until it starts to resemble a quiff again.
It’s shockingly intimate to watch him put himself back together again, and when he turns back around to face Niall, looking a good approximation of calm, Niall feels more out of control than ever.
“You can jerk yourself off,” Louis says, his tone just on the right side of disinterested even though his voice is as raspy as Niall’s ever heard it. “I’ll watch.”
“What?” Niall says. It feels like everything inside of his skull has been replaced with static.
“Quickly,” Louis snaps. “Get yourself off fast, now. Pull your cock out.”
“Oh, god.” Niall pops the button on his jeans but doesn’t bother with the zip, just pushes everything down until he can get his cock in hand. He almost doubles over at the first touch, because fuck is he ever close, but also because it’s fucking weird to be touching himself when every single part of him is primed for Louis Louis Louis.
“I forgot you were left-handed,” Louis says and he sounds strangled. “Go faster. Fuck, that’s weird. Fuck.” He bites at his thumb this time, tucking it into the side of his mouth and setting his molars into the skin. He looks a bit thoughtful, with the rest of his fist tucked by his chin, but he also looks like he’s snarling.
Niall gasps and gives a hard tug on his cock and then when Louis grits out, “Come on, do it,” he does. He comes so hard that he almost falls to the floor, the bottoms of his feet cramping as he curls his toes and tries to keep his balance. Some of the spunk has landed down the front of his trousers and the rest is probably on the floor. He might have wailed a little bit, just at the end. Hopefully Louis didn’t notice.
Niall wipes his hand off on his trousers (those are going to need a wash) and tucks himself back into his pants. He feels bare standing in front of Louis, even now that he’s fully clothed. Bare in the dirty kind of way. The best kind of way.
“Okay,” Louis says, clipped. He pulls his hand away from his mouth and wipes it off on his trackies, mirroring Niall’s movement. There’s a spot of precome wetting the front of his trousers and Niall wants to lick it.
“So, I’ll just. Get on that then.”
“What?” Louis asks. “Oh, right. The plan. Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t -- I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Niall snorts. He feels giggly, but that’s not his fault, since he just came his brains out.
“I’ve got the gist,” Niall says. “Make Zayn come.”
“Or Harry,” Louis says.
“Aww, I can’t do that to Harry. He’s suffering.”
“I thought you wanted to help,” Louis huffs.
“I will,” Niall says, smiling reassuringly. It’s not like it would be a hardship to get Zayn off if he happened to, like, trip and fall in the direction of Zayn’s dick or whatever. That’s just lucky timing.
“I’m going to win this,” Louis says. He rubs his palm over his belly and then pulls his shoulders back, standing up tall. His feet are spread apart. Niall doesn't know how he looks so solid when Niall feels like he’s three seconds away from sliding onto the floor. Everything about Louis looks deadly, except for the shaking hand he has pressed to the base of his neck.
“Yeah,” Niall says, but then there’s not much that Louis could say right now that Niall wouldn’t agree to.
--
Day Twelve
Niall finds Zayn sitting at the table, his chin on his hand as he stares out the window, empty cup of tea resting in front of him. He looks calm, all tucked away in his own space, and it’s not a feeling that Niall can relate to, but he loves seeing it on Zayn.
“You been here for a while then?” Niall asks. Ever since lunch, maybe, which was at least an hour ago. All of them sat around and Niall watched as Harry ate a banana while making steady eye contact with Zayn. Clearly Louis has him on it as well. He isn’t sure what objective Louis gave Harry, but Harry just got steadily more flushed and eventually had to wobble away from the table, while Zayn fixed his hair in the reflection of the bus window and picked idly at his hangnail.
“Just having a bit of a think,” Zayn says.
“About what?” Niall asks.
“Not too sure, if I’m honest,” Zayn says, and Niall laughs, sitting down on the bench beside him.
“Still staying strong?” Niall asks.
Zayn nods, smiling a bit with just one side of his mouth.
“I don’t know how you’re doing it, mate,” Niall says. “You still not feeling it at all?”
“Guess not,” Zayn says in that hazy way he has that makes Niall want to lie down with him somewhere dark and quiet.
Niall runs his hand down the front of his chest to fix the neckline of his vest and carefully ignores the tight bump of his nipple as he skims over it with his palm.
“Louis’s pretty chuffed you got Liam out,” he says, when Zayn doesn’t offer anything else.
Zayn chews on the side of his thumb and drops his gaze with one long sweep of his eyelashes. Three years later and Niall’s still not sure if he does shite like that on purpose. Probably.
“I didn’t mean to,” Zayn says. “That was a bit of an accident.”
“You’re too hot for your own good,” Niall says. He keeps his voice a little gruff, because he’s learned that’s the best way to give compliments: play it cool like it’s just blokes.
Zayn smiles, stays silent. He doesn’t move when Niall leans in closer so that their thighs are pressed close together. Niall twists in his seat so that he can press his hand to the back of Zayn’s neck, thumb coming up to rest at Zayn’s hairline. Zayn tilts his head a little, opening himself up to Niall’s touch.
“Wanna make out?” Niall asks, butting his forehead gently up against Zayn’s cheek.
“Did Louis tell you to do this?” Zayn asks.
“No,” Niall says, truthfully. Louis said to suck him off; he never said anything about kissing.
“I’m not bothered either way,” Zayn says. “He needs all the help he can get.”
“But you don’t?” Niall asks.
“You all keep winding yourselves up. It’s not as hard as you make it seem.”
“Hard,” Niall says, bopping at Zayn’s arm with his elbow.
“I’ve noticed,” Zayn says darkly.
“You, too, though,” Niall says, jerking his chin down at Zayn’s crotch. The thick line of his cock is tenting up the front of his jeans. Niall wants to sit on it but he knows better than to just go for it with Zayn. Zayn likes to be courted a little.
“‘s been a while,” Zayn acknowledges.
“Can I kiss you, then?” Niall asks.
Zayn smiles again, looks up at him from under the impossible sweep of his eyelashes. The line of his jaw is rough from three days of stubble and Niall can feel the phantom tingle on the insides of his thighs but that’s just wishful thinking. Fuck, Zayn could rub him raw. But that’s not -- he just wants a kiss, he’d be happy just to get a kiss.
“You going to try to get me off?” Zayn asks.
“Thanks, mate, but I’m not that good. No one ever creamed themselves just kissing me.”
“Okay,” Zayn says, and then he touches the tip of his finger to the center of his cheek.
Niall blinks and Zayn’s mouth quirks slightly, just a hint of movement, but Niall gets it. He leans in and presses his lips to Zayn’s cheek, a quick peck before he sits back again.
Zayn nods and then touches the same finger to his other cheek.
Niall has to twist up to reach, because Zayn’s looking straight ahead. He braces himself on the back of the seat as he curves around for another brief peck.
This time, Zayn lifts his hand and leaves it dangling in the air until Niall catches his palm and presses a slower kiss to the back of Zayn’s hand. Zayn’s hand is cool and Niall drops his head to press his burning cheek against it before pulling away again. He would really like to drop his head into Zayn’s lap, but he sits back in his seat instead.
“You can tell Louis you got your kiss,” Zayn says. It’s hard to tell from the steady quiet of his voice, but his eyes look happy so Niall doesn’t think he’s too put out.
“Okay,” Niall says.
Zayn starts to push himself off the chair, but just before standing, he reaches up and brushes the tip of his finger against Niall’s bottom lip, a tiny flash of contact before it’s gone. He follows it with an even quicker kiss, catching Niall’s mouth hard enough that he can feel the aftershock twisting all the way down his spine even though Zayn is already gone. Niall licks his lips and tries to catch back the breath Zayn stole away.
Harry comes wandering in not long afterward. He grabs an apple off the counter and sits down beside Niall.
Niall leans over and helps himself to a bite. It’s a good apple and juice sprays when he sinks his teeth in, dripping down the side of Harry’s hand, so he licks that off as well.
Harry blinks slowly at him, and Niall gives him a reassuring pat on the cheek.
“Were you just snogging Zayn?” Harry asks. “You’re all pink.”
“Tried to,” Niall says.
“Snogging Zayn is the best,” Harry says and then bites into his apple wistfully.
Niall knew that Zayn and Harry pulled girls together sometimes, but he didn’t know that they’d also pulled each other. If he’d known, he certainly would have demanded that they let him watch.
“I bet,” Niall says. He licks Harry’s hand again, because there’s more juice running in between his fingers.
“I think I’m going to forfeit, too,” Harry says. “You had the right idea.”
“Don’t do that,” Niall says, pushing the tip of his nose into Harry’s ear. “You’re doing so well.”
“What are orgasms like?” Harry asks. “I can’t even remember.”
“Terrible,” Niall says. “Like a strong sneeze. You’re not missing out.”
“Liar,” Harry says. He lifts his legs and swings them over Niall’s thighs so he’s half-sitting on Niall’s lap. Niall hooks his hand around Harry’s knee to keep him in place.
“Swear,” he says.
“Okay,” Harry murmurs.
Niall strokes his legs while Harry chews on the apple.
--
Day Thirteen
“We have to end this,” Louis hisses furiously as he flings open the curtains of Niall’s bunk.
“What’s that?” Niall asks, and then tries to cough some of the sleep out of his throat. There’s daylight illuminating Louis’s face now that he’s got the curtain open, but it feels like it’s still early as fuck.
“This can’t go on,” Louis says.
“Let’s go make a cup of tea,” Niall says, easing Louis’s fingers out of the death grip they have on the edge of Louis’s curtain and shooing him away until there’s room for Niall to jump out of his bunk.
Louis doesn’t like the way any of the rest of them make tea, so he the one who goes about putting on the kettle and pulling out mugs for them, while Niall sits sleepily on the counter, skillfully ignoring the massive tent pushing out the front of Louis’s pyjama bottoms. Well, he’s not so much ignoring it as he is staring at it. He would really like this stupid contest to be over because no one is letting Niall suck on his cock, and Niall’s been wanting to for days now. Talk about an exercise in endurance.
“Were you having a good dream?” Niall asks as Louis pulls out two teabags.
Louis pauses and then looks up at Niall with the most tragic, disgruntled face that Niall has ever seen. Especially given that Louis also looks like he’s gagging for it.
“There,” Louis says, thrusting a steaming mug at Niall. He takes his own mug and storms off to the back lounge, so Niall follows after him.
Except that Zayn’s already back there, passed out in front of the telly in tight black boxer briefs and a white t-shirt with a stretched out collar.
Niall thinks, oh, shite, and watches while Louis turns steadily purple.
“This is ridiculous,” Louis rages while Zayn slowly blinks himself awake, rubbing at his eyes and finally sitting up on the couch. “You can’t just -- people have to be able to -- I’m trying to have my tea!”
Zayn flaps his hand and stands up slowly.
“All yours, bro,” he says, patting Louis on the hip absently as he tries to pass around him on the way back to the bunks.
Niall winces, but the damage has already been done.
“You’re not even bothered,” Louis shouts, his hands flying around in the air.
“What’s that?” Zayn asks, rubbing one palm over his shoulder and squinting.
“You’re seriously not bothered,” Louis repeats. “How is that possible. Are you cheating? Fuck, are you --” He trails off, snapping his mouth shut and exhaling sharply through his nose. He appears to be rebuffed under the silent weight of Zayn’s stare, and of course he is. Niall is squirming just from what he can see of it across the room.
Zayn takes a step forward, then another one, crowding up into Louis’s space and then all the rest of the way until he’s right there, pressed up against him. Louis’s mouth drops open as he throws his head back, jerking against the steady grind of Zayn’s hips. Zayn’s got a thigh between his legs, the two of them locked together, even as Louis’s hands hang in tight fists at his sides. Zayn’s palm flattens to Louis’s lower back and he rocks forward and up, and, oh. Niall pushes his hand over his mouth because he’s worried he’s going to make a noise from how hard he’s gotten just from watching. He doesn’t know how Louis is just standing there.
“Who says I’m not bothered,” Zayn says, and then he pulses forward in this dirty grind that has Niall chewing on the side of his tongue. He circles his hips one last time, slow and raw and mean, and then he pulls back and walks away, leaving Louis standing in the center of the room. His head slumps forward like all the strings have been cut.
“That’s okay,” Niall says quickly. He reaches out to give Louis a reassuring shoulder squeeze, but Louis is already storming off.
Harry’s walking down the narrow aisle as Louis stomps away, and even in his rage, Louis pauses for half a moment to twist Harry’s nipple as he passes by.
“What happened?” Harry asks, coming up to stand beside Niall. “Did someone else get out? Are we done now? Can I go wank?”
“No,” Niall says, absently, as he stares at Louis’s retreating back.
--
Part Two