Smut and fluff

Rockets and Waterfalls

By vinoharry

Summary

"Fuck," Harry whines as sweat pools at the small of his back. Zayn's fingers are still stretching him open, the promise of getting fucked so close. "Daddy," Harry says and it's – well, it's the first time he's said it out loud. He's thought about it over and over. He knows that it's something people say; that it's completely normal and doesn't mean he has any sort of dysfunctional relationship or anything of the sort. So it – it feels good to say. "Please, Daddy. Need you to fuck me."

"Happy father's day." Harry wakes Zayn up with gentle kisses peppered on his cheeks.

Zayn snuffles in his sleep, initially rolling away from the touches until Harry wraps an arm and a leg around him.

"Wake up. Wake up, happy father's day." Harry can feel how hard he is, pressed up against Zayn's boxer shorts. It's ridiculous how Zayn insists on slipping them on, even when they both know he's going to strip out of them the next morning when they inevitably start touching each other.

"M'not a dad," Zayn grumbles. His lips barely move, but Harry pounces. He presses his lips firmly against Zayn's.

Harry has discovered that kissing is the best way to wake Zayn up. The softer the better until he can work Zayn into reciprocating some of the enthusiasm.

"What if I want to call you Daddy, though?" Harry asks sweetly. He inhales Zayn's sleep-sweaty scent and moves his lips down Zayn's jaw. His three day old scruff burns against Harry's lips.

"You never want to call me Daddy." Zayn makes to roll over except Harry's quicker. He heaves himself up until he's straddling Zayn's stomach. His dick is curved towards his belly, just waiting for Zayn to touch it.

"I would if it would get you to wake the fuck up." It comes out like a joke, but Harry tracks the way Zayn's eyes meet his. Harry thinks maybe, just maybe, he hit a nerve. That they could try it out and Harry's about to suggest it, maybe with a teasing comment about how he knows Zayn wants it with the way his chest has pinks and his breathing deepens.

But then Zayn chuckles and he shakes his head, the moment gone. His hands cup Harry's hips, the around and down to his arse. He finally, finally, opens his eyes and they're as soft and loving and fucking beautiful as Harry remembers.

"Love you," Harry tells him, leaning down for a kiss.

Zayn hums into it, squeezing Harry's arse as he does. Harry's always up for it in the morning. It's practically engrained in his DNA to always be hard and ready for a round as soon as he's awake.

"Need to brush my teeth," Zayn murmurs. He tilts his head towards the clock on his bedside table. Harry doesn't allow him to get up though. Instead, he nips his way down Zayn's neck, down to his collarbones to lick at the lips inked between them.

"Don't. Stay." Harry's starting to squirm now.

"I'll come back. I just need to piss and brush my teeth."

"Daddy," Harry says, low and sultry. The effect is gone though, as soon as he starts laughing.

"Shut up."

Harry heaves himself off of Zayn, wrapping a hand around himself as he watches Zayn go. His back is amazing. All smooth and broad, muscles subtly shifting beneath his skin. "What are you doing for the rest of the day?" Harry calls out once he hears the toilet flush. He tightens his fist and flicks his wrist a bit faster.

"I have to run to the shops. You want to come?"

"Not really. But if we get frozen yogurt, I will."