chance connection |2| [zarry]

onehundredninetyfour

"Football!" Freddie yells from somewhere outside their bedroom door, startling Zain awake.

"Football!" Louis echoes, not even trying to keep it down. Zain grunts and pushes at Harry slightly so he can turn onto his side.

"Loud," Harry complains sleepily, pulling Zain's arm around his waist more firmly, like he's still not close enough.

"Mm," Zain agrees, kissing the back of Harry's neck and rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of Harry's hip. He's half-hard already, just from waking up tangled into Harry, and knowing they have time for once, with no kid or anyone else interrupting, no need to rush to work either makes it so much better.

"I guess you did promise," Harry mutters, wiggling his arse back slightly.

Zain grins, squeezing Harry's hip. "Did, didn't I?"

Harry hums in agreement, taking Zain's hand and linking their fingers. "Like this, ok," he says, sounding sleepy.

Zain leans up slightly to kiss his cheek, warm and slightly red with a crease from the sheets. "Yea?" he asks, grabbing the lube from the bedside table and kissing Harry's cheek again. It's hard to resist when he looks like that, soft and sweet and just a bit mischievous with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It's the least I deserve after that date," he says, reaching up to brush his fingers through Zain's hair.

"But I was lovely," Zain grins, kissing Harry, and pulling his left leg up slightly, running his hand up Harry's thigh towards his arse and squeezing firmly. "Like your arse."

Harry turns his head slightly to press his nose against Zain's cheek, his grin widening. Zain presses a finger into him before he can think of a respond, distracting him easily.

"Zain," Harry gasps instead of whatever snarky response was on his mind, pressing his face into the pillow and rocking his hips back slightly.

Zain kisses his shoulder, watching Harry flush even further, the way his eyes keep fluttering. His mouth always gapes open slightly as soon as he is around, like he's too distracted to remember to close it, pink and soft, it drives Zain wild.

He presses a kiss to Harry's shoulder, breathing in the smell of his skin, lingering. "You good, sweetheart?" he asks quietly, his lips brushing Harry's skin, his fingers sinking into him easily, soft and still slightly slick as he is from last night.

"Yea," Harry whines, his eyes fluttering open to look at Zain.

Zain leans down to kiss his slack lips for a moment, before pushing his thigh up further, spreading him wide as well as he can without actually moving Harry and pushing in, wet and tight. It's like an addiction that just gets worse every time, having sex with Harry and fucking him, taking his breath away and emptying his mind of everything except closer and Harry and the way he sounds and smells and feels beneath him. He wants it to last forever.

He takes it slow, barely moving, Harry whining for him and reaching back for him. It takes forever and not, and he's dripping with sweat, panting against Harry's shoulder. It still is too soon when Harry comes, almost involuntarily, gasping and clutching the sheets, and it's too much, taking Zain with him.

"Love you so much," Zain says, still dumb with his orgasm, letting his hands roam over Harry's body, sweaty and warm with it, flushed all the way down to his chest, trying to get him closer still. He can never get enough of him.

"You too," Harry says, sounding winded as he tries to catch his breath, turning around to tangle their legs together.

Zain grabs his arse, pulling him closer.