Deep (Zarry AU)

Storerooms

2013

M Hotel

"Not yet, babe". Zayn had groaned before he said it and it was all Harry could do not to come himself, just at the thought of Zayn so close to losing control into Harry's warm, waiting mouth. But he could feel Zayn shaking slightly and Harry was worried that this would all be over far too soon, and then Zayn might lose his nerve; so he drew back, cupping his hand gently over Zayn's balls which were drawn up so high Harry could hardly feel them.  He looked up. 

 "C'm 'ere" Zayn said, hooking his hands under Harry's arms and pulling him up. As if to make up for the loss of Zayn in his mouth, Harry leaned in hungrily, pushing Zayn's jacket off his shoulders and down so that it fell to the floor then sliding both hands around the back of Zayn's neck and pulling him into a kiss, stretching Zayn's mouth wide and finding his soft tongue with his own. He felt Zayn try to pull back, his throat humming as if he wanted to say something, but Harry wasn't having any of it. To make the point he released one hand, moving it down and wrapping it around Zayn's erection, fisting gently, as he slid the other hand down to cup Zayn's ass cheek. Zayn pushed him away, laughing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What?" Harry said, in that childish, confused way he had.

Zayn smiled. "Nothin. Just wanted to catch ma breath."

Harry grabbed at Zayn's shirt, pouting like a five year old, pulling on it so Zayn swayed forward against him. And then Harry was twisting the buttons of Zayn's shirt through the buttonholes so fast they almost broke, I'll show you, Malik burning in his brain. Then he was ripping at the tie around his own neck, popping his own shirt buttons and his waistband and pulling Zayn's hand down to grasp his aching cock; and as Zayn obliged, lower lip between his teeth, Harry's hands roamed under Zayn's open shirt, as if he were trying to feel every inch of Zayn's skin; as if he were brail that Harry was trying to read; as if he were trying to commit him to memory.  

As if he might never feel his skin again.

*

"Whoah. Slow down." Zayn whispered.

Harry was planting kisses and bites on Zayn's neck and shoulder, his hands feeling every inch of him - like he wanted to devour him.

"No" Harry said, through his teeth. He thought of all the times he'd wanted to do this; all the times he'd sat, upper arm and thigh pressed against Zayn's during some godforsaken press junket, trying to hide his erection as Zayn's voice vibrated through him; all those times he wasn't allowed – or didn't dare – to do something about it.  And he took Zayn by the arms and twisted him so he turned and almost pitched forward against a shelving unit that stood against the wall and Zayn gripped the struts of the unit to steady himself but Harry pressed himself flat against Zayn, pushing his near-vertical erection between the cheeks of Zayn's bare ass. Feeling Zayn go still, his breathing fast, Harry pulled back slightly. He ran his fingers lightly over Zayn's ass cheek and just as Zayn started to moan he pushed his thumb into the firm inner curve, widening Zayn's crack and angling his cock so the leaking head pressed against Zayn's opening. Harry paused for a moment - luxuriating in the feeling that Zayn had actually stopped breathing – then started pushing his tip against the ring of muscle - at first teasingly gentle and then harder. Harry saw Zayn's hands tense around the struts of the shelves as Harry began rocking his hips ever so slightly to a rhythm, pressing into him with every tilt of his hips. Harry smiled at the sound of Zayn falling apart in front of him. "No... I" Zayn was starting to say.

"Just kidding," Harry whispered into his ear, but he wasn't, of course. "That's for later," he added.  And he felt a shiver course through Zayn's body.