oneshots • sidemen

|| 18 || wroetobehz • what heaven is to you

|| ship; wroetobehz (harry x ethan)

|| warnings; intense pre-smut

|| words; 1.4k

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Seven minutes in heaven.

Ethan's somewhat embarrassed to admit that that's where his relationship with Harry had started. Both at a college party, a little bit drunk, and locked in a tiny closet together.

-

"For fucks sake," Ethan grumbles to himself after the closet door is shut, somewhat relieved that they're now shrouded in darkness that should conceal the how ridiculously flushed he is. He keeps his palms carefully planted on the small gap of floor between the walls and Harry's legs, very conscious of not touching the younger more than the situation at hand warrants.

He feels Harry shift a little in his lap, seeming to just be getting more comfy, before sighing softly. Alcohol infused breath wafting over Ethan's face.

Ethan's painfully aware of Harry's hands on his shoulders, warm and firm, as well as heat from the rest of his body radiating between them. Tries to ignore the closeness any more than that small acknowledgement.

It's damn near impossible.

Ethan's wanted him like this for so long now. Fantasised about it. Knew it was wrong, to think about fucking the life out of his best mate, but really, who could blame him. Harry's hot, really fucking hot. Sexy too. And handsome.

Also, a massive fucking flirt.

The amount of times he's teased Ethan, intentionally or not, is just ridiculous really.

What's even more ridiculous, is the fact that Ethan can never remember the important shit. Names, dates, hell, he's fucked if he can't start to remember the stuff he needs to scrape a pass in his A-Levels.

But somehow, he can remember, every single encounter he's had with Harry that could not be perceived as anything less than sexual.

Every. Single. One.

But he'd never realised until now, just how close his wet dreams were getting to becoming a reality.

And he doesn't think he'll get much closer than this.

Locked in a closet together, both of them tipsy, and hyped up off the energy of the party. Both of them warm, flushed, and needy.

"Eth? You alright?" Harry murmurs, shaking Ethan from his train of thought. He nods in response, before remembering that, it's fucking dark.

"Yeah mate, all good. Just, umm, a little warm," he responds quietly, even though they're alone, still feeling like he should keep his voice down. For risk of the people waiting outside hearing their conversation.

Or more importantly, for risk of Harry hearing the cracks in his facade if he raises his voice to more than a whisper.

"It is a little... hot in here," Harry purrs, the sultriness in his voice meaning Ethan can't help but swallow thickly.

He knows now, that he and Harry are on the same page.

Damn well hopes, at least.

"God, I haven't kissed a guy for so long," Harry says wistfully, moving so that his arms are draped around Ethans neck, body pressed flush against his.

It's then that Ethan really starts to feel his brain malfunction.

Because here's Harry, plastered against his body, warm, sweaty and feeling like heaven. That should have been enough already.