Belong to the World

And Look the Other Way

This is my first attempt at a sex scene! If it even counts lol. I was listening to "Where You Belong" by The Weeknd as I wrote it and it definitely helped and even though there's no music in the process of the "love-making" I'd suggest listening to it while reading. Hope you enjoy! Love you all! 

He has no choice, he follows the boy, like a moth with a broken wing to the light. 

Zayn keeps the lights in his house really dim and there's a lot of people in the way but he keeps up, he'd be able to pick him out of the largest crowd, no doubt.

The small boy turns to look at Harry, beckoning him with those icy blue eyes, before opening a door and stepping inside, closing it behind him. 

Harry licks his lips and enters the room, shoving a few people out of the way. 

When he closes the door behind him, he finds the boy looking at himself in large vanity dresser, fixing his fringe. 

It's an untouched room, Harry notices. The lights are off besides a lit lamp in the corner beside a perfectly made bed. The walls are bare and everything is so clean. He wonders how the boy knew this room would be empty. 

"Zayn uses this as a guest room although ironically enough, he's never had any guests. I don't think anyone's been in here before," the boy says as though he could read Harry's mind. 

That makes sense, Harry thinks, Zayn's mansion has many rooms but lives by himself. 

"So you know Zayn?" 

The boy smirks. 

"More like acquaintances, yeah. You?" He licks his bottom lip, looking at Harry through the mirror. 

"Been friends with him for a couple of years," Harry says like the lip-licking doesn't affect  him like he's 15 fucking years old again. His heart is beating so fast. why why why.

The boy sits on the front edge of the bed, "I should've known, you're similar."

It's Harry's time to smirk, "Both hot?"

It's weird, Harry thinks, talking to him like this, like a human being. 

"Something like that." 

Harry smiles and bends to cradle the boy's head, kissing him, hard. The feeling is bizarre. It's so gentle. So much more gentle than when he's paying him to do it. 

And much more quieter. Usually in there appointments, a Weeknd song will be playing in the background but now, it's just silence which is better, makes the boy's little moans and whimpers more audible. 

Kissing shouldn't be affecting Harry this much, but it is. He feels like he's being filled with so much warmth and color, like it's threading through his veins and making it hard to think straight. He puts his hands under the boy's shirt, feeling the soft skin he's become so familiarized with, radiating heat. 

The boy's feeling it too, he's biting Harry's bottom lip, threading his fingers through his hair..his weakness. He moans. 

The boy stands up, lays Harry down to straddle him and starts to grind on him, so filthy, so opposed to what they had started off with but Harry didn't mind, neither did his dick, fattening up in his pants with the friction. 

Harry runs his hand down the boy's back until he reaches the boy's sinful, sinful, sinful little bum. His heart is pounding against his chest, and he feels a jungle in his stomach, a want so strong it's almost killing him. 

He trails his fingers over the boy's spine, gently, as the boy kisses Harry's neck, sucking and biting, teasing and teasing. 

He feels so hot, so so hot. Harry pulls his shirt off, along with his.

The boy unbuckles Harry's jeans, and lowers his pants along with his boxers to his knees. 

The boy then pulls of his pants, just his pants. 

He has no underwear. 

Harry doesn't know if he finds that extremely weird or hot but he goes for the latter when the boys licks a stripe down Harry's dick to his butterfly tattoo. 

"Fuck," he mutters, biting his lip. He doesn't want to be too loud, he doesn't remember if he locked the door or not. 

The boy's hovering over his dick right before Harry remembers. 

"Uh, you need me to open you up?"

The boy licks his lips, "Already am." 

Harry's brows furrow but then he remembers him coming out the restroom with another guy, his heart drops but he forgets about it once the boy's bottomed out. 

It's so tight, so hot, he's so close, he want him closer. 

The look on the boy's face is so beautiful, Harry doesn't think he's someone so beautiful. 

The boy starts riding him, moving up and down, looking sinfully sexy, so fucking sexy. He does it so perfectly, like he's done it a hundred other times-which he probably has.- 

"Sp pretty like this," Harry can't contain it, he has his thumbs on the boy's hipbones, feeling their movement, driving him crazy.

He feels the red hot accumulating in his stomach. It isn't until the boy starts picking up his pace and moans loud that Harry cums. 

His toes curl and leans his head back to see stars. 

He feels the boy get up and hears the bathroom door close. He uses the time to catch his breath. He pulls his pants up along with his underwear, not caring about the cum. 

He sits up to lean on the headboard. 

The bathroom door opens and out comes a fully-dressed and wet boy, his hair pushed back with water. 

The boy walks up to Harry. He's so beautiful, Harry thinks. He's so in love. He's filled with a feeling so much better than all the drugs in the world.

"That'll be 250."

Harry's heart breaks and pours open. 

"What?" He feels all the color rush out of his face, the warmth from before is swiped clean, he feels so cold, he's so cold. 

"Yeah, I know. It's a bit less but I thought'd I'd give you a discount since I wasn't dressed like usual or anything." 

Harry feels so embarrassed, he feels so fucking dumb. 

Of course it wasn't out of love, it was for his money. 

Isn't it always though?

He feels so empty. 

He hands the money to him, avoiding looking at him, and throws on his shirt. 

He doesn't know what to feel, what to expect, he feels lost.

He runs to Zayn's room and finds the person he had came for in the first place, the only one who never disappoints. 

He doesn't even know what he's buying or how much until the next morning when he's missing seven hundred dollars and he's lying in a puddle of his own vomit.