Fifteen Minutes (Zarry AU)

Chapter 14

For the first time in a long time, Zayn doesn’t think, he just kisses Harry. He knows that it startles Harry as much as it does him, because he makes a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan as their mouths collide. It makes Zayn nudge Harry into the door and the force of it knocks their mouths apart. ‘Do that again,’ Harry breathes, his eyelids fluttering open. His bottom lip is wet and if Zayn had any control over this, he loses it then, his lips parting as soon as they touch Harry’s.

Harry takes the hint, tilting his head and opening his mouth, too. Their tongues touch and Harry makes that sound again and when Zayn feels the hum of it against his mouth, he has to stop because it makes his heart beat so hard he’s sure that it going to burst right through his skin. ‘Do that again,’ Harry tells him, his fingers curling in the cotton of Zayn’s shirt when Zayn slips his tongue back into his mouth.

Then they’re kissing – really kissing, mouths on mouths, tongues on tongues – and like Harry, it’s demanding and restless. It makes Zayn pin him to the door with his body to keep him still and he feels the hum of that too, the hum of the metal door as they knock into it, all elbows and knees and hips as Harry puts his hands in Zayn’s hair and pulls and Zayn puts his hands on Harry’s shoulders and pushes.

Zayn keeps telling himself to slow down, to taste him, to enjoy the soft heat of Harry’s mouth and the rough curl of his tongue, but he can’t stop. It’s Harry who pulls away first, his mouth somehow on Zayn’s cheek and ear and jaw, all at once. Then he’s panting, 'Open the door' against Zayn’s neck and he doesn’t even know if Harry knows what he’s saying as he licks hot stripes down his neck, but it’s making Zayn’s hands shake so much that he forgets that his door keys are still in his hand. When he does, they turn so Zayn’s facing the door, Harry behind him, his mouth on the back of his neck as Zayn tries to open the door. He can’t, not with Harry rolling his hips and letting him feel how hard he is. Zayn doesn’t know why it’s a shock, but it is, all of his nerves jerking up at once as he realises that he did that to him.

He did that.

So Zayn gives up and lets his head tip back onto Harry’s shoulder. They kiss again, Zayn reaching a hand up to fist it in Harry’s hair as Harry curls his fingers around his throat. He doesn’t know when Harry takes the keys with his other hand, but the next thing he knows, the door is open and they’re stumbling in towards the bed. He hears the keys clatter to the floor as they do, then he hears something else – something heavier – and realises that Harry is kicking off his Converse.

They undress between kisses and as soon as Harry tugs his t-shirt off, Zayn puts his hands on his waist and leans down to mouth every patch of skin he finds. He starts at Harry’s neck then moves down, down, his front teeth dragging along his left shoulder before he traces the line of his collar bone with the tip of his tongue – first his left, then his right – and moves down to his chest. Harry lets out a gasp as Zayn presses his hand to the small of his back and circles his nipples with his tongue – his right first, then his left, this time – making sure his front teeth catch on them as he does.

It earns him a oh fuck from Harry, who pulls his hair as Zayn’s mouth moves lower, then stops. ‘Get on the bed,’ he tells him. He doesn’t mean to push, not that Harry needs much persuading; his hands are already on his belt. His bottom lip is still obscenely wet as he lays where he falls, his mouth opening a little wider as he watches Zayn unbutton his black shirt.

‘Let me,’ Harry breathes, hands in the air as Zayn kneels down, straddling him, a knee on either side of his waist. Zayn stops, letting Harry push his shirt over his shoulders, but it’s not even halfway down his arms before Harry’s hot mouth is on him, kissing and biting and licking him, all at once, the shirt forgotten while Zayn tries to take it off himself. As soon as he does, his hand goes to the back of Harry’s head, the pads of his fingers seeking out the heat of his scalp as Harry’s tongue laps at the tattoos on his chest and shoulders as though he’s tasting them. So Zayn leans over him, his hands on the mattress – one on either side of Harry’s head – as if to offer each tattoo to him. Harry accepts, licking each one before moving lower – lower, lower – Zayn’s stomach clenching as the tip of Harry’s tongue dips into bellybutton. It makes him arch his back and roll his hips forward and as soon as he does, Harry gasps, his head falling back against the mattress.