Smut and fluff

Like the rooster at dawn

By uhhherynn

Louis was determined to defy jet lag, and he was doing it with his face pressed between Harry's shoulder blades. He'd made the mistake of looking at the clock just a few minutes ago and was certain the digital display had simply read, "No." How was five o'clock in the morning even a thing that existed? Unbelievable.

He had his right arm around Harry's chest, his small hand balled into a fist somewhere between his constellation of nipples. He drew it back across the other boy's ribs to pick absently at a small scab he noticed on his back. This whole sleeping thing wasn't going well.

He was tempted to wake Harry, but felt guilty even considering it. Harry had been completely out of sorts and exhausted last night—a combination of a hellish travel day and a nasty earache. By the time they reached the hotel, Harry was in maximum sulk mode and being incredibly fussy. He couldn't decide who he wanted to sleep with (Louis ended up deciding for him after twenty minutes of debate) and had found the first two rooms unsuitable, for reasons Louis didn't even catch. He was just grateful when the third room was to Harry's satisfaction, barely.

None of the hotel's room service offerings interested him, either, and while Louis munched alone, he could swear Harry was playing a tiny violin in the shower. When he insisted Harry take his ear drops, his good intentions earned him a cold shoulder. Louis couldn't even get irritated over all this diva-like behaviour, because Harry had such a sad way of going about it. Louis had tried to cheer him up with obnoxious commentary as they watched a movie to fall asleep, but Harry only sighed and felt heavy in his arms.

It was going to be a long four hours until their wakeup call.

Louis huffed against Harry's spine, shifting around in an attempt to get more comfortable. As he did, he slipped his arm around Harry's again and—well then. Louis bit his lip through a smile, as his hand had bumped against the unmistakable feeling of Harry's hard cock.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Niall had thought Louis volunteering to baby Harry meant he'd get a good night's sleep, but apparently not.

He couldn't fall asleep right away, so instead he spent an hour in bed getting a play by play of Harry's condition from Louis via text. Harry was so sad and pathetic when he was poorly that you couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He was relieved when Louis finally texted that Harry was asleep—but after saying good night himself, Niall had tossed and turned another hour.

And now he was awake at—ugh, Jesus, five-something in the morning.

Why did sleep hate him?

He reached down to give his morning wood an irritated tug, since that had been nagging at him, too. Maybe a wank would put him back to sleep? He tried to focus as he started to stroke with more purpose, but then he sighed as he stopped. His face brightened a little at a thought. If he couldn't sleep, maybe one of his boyfriends was struggling, too.

Niall fought his way out of the blankets and to his feet. He pulled on a pair of pants, not bothering to modestly adjust his erection, before he grabbed the stack of keycards on the desk and left his room. He didn't worry about pulling on any other clothes; they had a few floors of this hotel to themselves, after all.

He reached the first room and nearly slipped the keycard into the lock, before he remembered whose room it was and stopped himself.

Niall leaned his forehead against the door and closed his eyes. He missed Liam.

Sophia had joined them on tour a few days ago, which meant Liam wasn't around as much, and when he was, intimate stuff was strictly off-limits. Sophia knew they all "fooled around," but she had no idea the extent of their relationship. Niall felt badly for her; it wasn't right how Liam was lying to her. He pursed his lips—how they were all lying to her. They did a lot of lying, though, and somehow it all felt justified in the spirit of protecting what they valued most: each other.