larry smut

let's talk about making love

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1938177?view_adult=true

a little note to clear up confusion y'all might have later on, when talking on the phone louis uses liam's name as a stage name because he doesn't feel comfortable using his own for the first while but then he tells harry his name so no worries, enjoy!

~✰~

If Harry were in his right mind, he would have asked why Niall had the number of a gay sex line programmed into his phone in the first place, but given that he's pissed off his head and has been sexually frustrated by couples grinding in front of him for the past three hours (not to mention the past seventeen years), asking questions is pretty much the last thing on his mind when a soft voice says into his ear are your jeans getting tight for me?

It's Niall's fault, as always. "You need to get laid."

"Youuuuu," Harry says, knitting his eyebrows together and poking Niall repeatedly between the eyes, "need to mind your own business, mister."

"You've been out for, what, six months?" Niall continues unabated. "And you haven't even hooked up with a guy."

"I'm still reeling from your rejection." Harry stirs the dregs of his drink around with his little pink umbrella. The cup used to be a pretty green, now it's almost empty. Harry pouts.

Niall finishes off his beer and throws the can over his shoulder. "You offering yourself up for a threesome with me and my boyfriend doesn't count as putting yourself out there."

That's not exactly fair, since Harry did also give Niall a celebratory coming-out blowjob in the school toilets, but that's not something Niall likes to bring up when Zayn is milling around nearby. "You know, we used to be friends." Harry picks the umbrella out of his drink and sticks it behind his ear. "Friends don't off and get fit older boyfriends without even telling their friends they're bi and then not share those fit boyfriends."

"Was that written down in our year three friendship code?" Niall says as he scans the crowd. "Because otherwise, I can't recognize that rule. Oi, Zayn!"

Niall's (extremely fit, Harry thinks glumly) boyfriend makes his way through the crowd of gyrating bodies (most of which Harry has known since before they hit puberty) to the little loveseat in the corner that Harry and Niall have sprawled themselves over. "'Sup, loves?" Zayn sits on the arm of the couch and kisses Niall's temple before hooking his foot around Niall's. Harry thinks he might vomit up his green drink.

Niall grins up at Zayn softly and gives him an awkward one-armed hug that mostly ends up with him shoving his face into Zayn's abs. "Give me my phone back," Niall says, making grabby hands.

Zayn seems distressingly sober as he looks down on Harry and Niall with a touch of paternalism. "Do you promise not to call Barbara like last time?"

"Last time I was still heartbroken." Niall pinches Zayn's nipple and the older boy winces. "Now I have you, don't I?"

"You do," Zayn concedes, ducking his face down to hide his grin as he roots around in his pocket for Niall's phone. (Harry sees his grin anyway. Vomiting keeps seeming like a better and better option.) "What do you need it for, anyway?"

"Harry needs a certain number I have saved." Niall waggles his eyebrows up at Zayn.

"What—oh." Zayn suddenly starts smiling wickedly and Harry wishes he would go back to fawning over Niall from across the room at crowded parties like this, because this smile can't mean anything good. Harry groans dramatically and throws his forearm over his face. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Niall?"