No Fear of Falling (Zarry AU)

Chapter 7

The kissing became a regular thing after that. Zayn didn’t know what they were doing, just that he didn’t know why they’d never done it before as they sat in the treehouse and kissed until they heard Tricia calling them in for dinner. Then they started doing it in Zayn’s bedroom, bunking off lessons so they could lie on his bed and kiss all afternoon while his parents were at work. And it should have been awkward – awkward and confusing and maybe a little scary – but it was Harry and Harry wasn’t scary.

He was his best friend.

So the first time Harry pulled back and asked if he was hard, too, Zayn nodded.

‘Can I?’ Harry asked, a little breathless, eyelashes fluttering.

Zayn nodded again and looked down as Harry lifted the hem of his grey school jumper to undo the unbutton of his trousers. He was as clumsy as he always was, all hands and fidgety fingers, but it wasn’t his usual heavy-handed impatience. Zayn could tell that he was trying to be careful, the skin between his eyebrows pinched as he struggled to tug down the zip so Zayn helped him, rolling onto his back on the bed and opening his trousers, then hesitating for a second before hooking his fingers into his underwear and pulling them down enough to free his erection. Harry watched utterly rapt as it bobbed for a second or two before settling, warm and heavy on Zayn’s stomach.

‘You know what to do,’ he breathed, a finger turning in one of Harry’s curls.

He nodded, straddling Zayn so his knees were on either side of Zayn’s hips. He leaned forward, pressing one hand to the bed, and lifted his chin to look at Zayn before he curled his other hand around him. Zayn’s hips bucked off the bed as soon as he touched him, his eyelids stuttering shut as he pressed himself against Harry’s palm. Harry took the hint and stroked him once then stopped. Zayn opened his eyes with a whimper, watching as Harry licked his palm and touched him again. He did it properly this time, working his hand up and down with long, warm strokes that got quicker and quicker as his breathing got heavier. And Zayn couldn’t help but think of Harry in his big blue bedroom that Zayn knew so well, lying on his narrow single bed, doing that to himself.

‘Do you think about me?’ Harry asked, reading his mind, and if Zayn wasn’t already about to come, he almost did then.

‘Yes.’

‘Look at me.’

It was an effort, but Zayn lifted his eyelids. Harry had never looked so beautiful, all pink cheeks and curls, like something from a Waterhouse painting. More beautiful than Katie Sewell with her mascara stiff eyelashes and push-up bra. More beautiful than Zayn had ever seen him and so delicate, like he might break if he tried to touch his face.

‘Do you think about me?’

‘I can’t stop thinking about you,’ Zayn breathed, and he didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t worried about what Harry would say. If he’d laugh and go into school the next day and tell everyone that he had a small cock or that he came too quick because it was Harry.

Harry.

Harry.

Harry.