Smut and fluff

For their eyes only

By Valentina

Out of all the boys, Niall is the first to fuck Harry. It's no surprise, he was never good at waiting, too impatient and eager for his own good. But Niall is gentle, he gets Harry started, always, with a lot of fingering and a lot more lube, and such slow, slow, gentle movements that make Harry whine for more. He feels the tenseness leave his body with every thrust, feels how all the initial embarrassment and doubts and fear are washed away like footprints in the sand. It's always good like this, too good, the dream he never dared to dream until he saw it become reality right in front of his eyes.

Niall likes to tease him, likes to choke Harry's moans halfway if he's getting too loud, likes to watch his face when he angles himself just right. Harry breathes and doesn't dare to look at any of them yet. His hands fisting the bedsheets, he arches his back, his hair starting to stick to his sweaty forehead. All he has to do is lie there and wait for them to love him right. It doesn't take Niall long to come, but it doesn't matter, because Harry is rockhard anyway and wants, needs, for the others to get it on with.

Zayn's already there, a grin on his face as sleek as his hair. Harry wants to ride him, he says, and who is Zayn to deny him anything? Harry's got them all wrapped around his fingers, his heart, and other parts of his body. His favourite thing is the other boys watching him as he bounces on Zayn's cock, cheering him on with approving words and gentle touches on his body. Or not so gentle, when Louis grabs Harry's hair and forces him to circle his hips on Zayn because he can't move up and down anymore. It's a struggle coming like this, every time, but just like any other time he does, because even Harry Styles will come undone under the hands of his lovers.

He comes untouched, his first orgasm that night, makes a mess of his and Zayn's tummies, and Louis has the audacity to run his hands through it and then push them down Harry's throat. Maybe that's just what Harry likes. When Zayn comes, it's inside of him; one of the few ways they can claim each other as theirs. They've always let their bodies speak, 'cause their words get choked too often.

Liam has never been the gentle type. He's the B and D of BDSM, flips Harry onto his back, pins his hands above his head and fucks him relentlessly, mercilessly, to the point Harry feels tears stream down his cheek, overstimulated all over, so much so that the spanks on his arse seem too far away to really hurt anymore. Louis, Niall and Zayn are all there to soothe him with gentle touches and sweet, sweet words, and Harry feels himself shudder under their appreciation, even as he's split open on Liam's ridiculously big cock. Then Liam changes into fucking him doggy style, Harry's face pressed into the pillow because he's too weak to hold himself up, stray tears soaking into the fabric beneath him. Someone scratches their nails down his back, a sharp stinging pain that makes him arch his back in pleasure. If Liam is the D of BDSM, Harry is the S and M.

When Liam stops fucking him, he can only imagine he's come again, too floaty and numb to think or feel anything other than pure and utter satisfaction. Liam comes on his back, his arse, rubs it in with his cock, so close to where Harry feels loose and open and so so wet that he moans against the pillow. Someone chuckles, someone else kisses his head, another one cleans his back. He loves them, he thinks, and Louis hasn't even fucked him yet.

Louis asks if Harry is okay. He always fucks Harry last, it's their unspoken rule, and he knows Harry will never say anything but yes, yes please, I need it, need you, all of you, but Louis still asks, turning him around again and holding his chin so he can look into Harry's glazed over, watery eyes, all black and pretty. He likes intimacy more than the others, so he never stops forcing Harry to look at him, watch him bite his lip when he fucks him deep. Slow at first, giving Harry a second to breathe after getting his brains fucked out by Liam, until he speeds up, gives it to him hard; not as hard as Liam, but with the same level of desperation in his thrusts, moans leaving Harry's lips every time he hits his spot.

Louis likes taking care of him, likes giving Harry exactly what he needs, and he's become good at it, so so good at it. He knows that Harry likes his nipples pinched when he's close to coming, knows that he comes the hardest when he can feel all of the boys around him, on him, in him, so Louis tells them all to wreck him all over again; kiss him messily, pull his hair, tease their fingers over his throat, mark him up. And just as Louis can be dark and rough, he can be gentle and loving, and he calls Harry all sorts of sweet names as he thrusts into him deeper, laces their fingers together and whispers in his ear how good he's being for him, for all of them, every time.

That's what makes Harry come a third time. Not Louis fucking him hard, not Liam grabbing his throat, or Niall and Zayn playing with one his nipples. He comes because he's reminded of how much they love him, how much he loves them; comes because Louis doesn't stop saying how beautiful he looks all fucked out defenceless, for their eyes only, and the others join in and shower him in praise even long after he's stopped coming. Louis came inside him too, Harry feels it dripping out of him, feels lightheaded and calm in a way that he only ever does when they're like this.

Niall plugs him up, of course, Zayn cleans him up, Liam massages his back and Louis strokes his hair, until he's come back enough that he can say their names like prayers, remembers he's alive and not dead and in heaven. They all fall asleep cuddling, with Louis and Zayn on one side of Harry and Niall and Liam on the other, a mess of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies and shaking breaths. Harry truly didn't know what love felt like until the first time he found himself like this.

In the morning, Harry wakes up with Zayn's tongue inside of him. He doesn't open his eyes but his mouth instead, knowing this is only a continuation of last night, and that his sleep was merely them having mercy on him. Liam wants to fuck down his throat as soon as Harry parts his lips, so he lets him. Niall has his hands and mouth on Harry's cock, barely awake yet still somehow already hard; his body being many steps ahead of his mind. After all, that's how they ended up like this.

And Louis? Louis is there to watch over him. He has one hand in Harry's hair, the other is resting on Harry's own hand on the bed. Harry doesn't need to look at Louis to know he's smiling down at him. At some point, Harry comes again, in some other universe, and falls asleep again before he can even feel the tiredness creeping in. He doesn't dream of anything, and even if he did, all his wildest dreams are already true.