Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/882723.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      One_Direction_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Zayn_Malik/Harry_Styles
  Character:
      Harry_Styles, Zayn_Malik, Louis_Tomlinson, Liam_Payne, Niall_Horan
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Drinking, Underage_Sex, Blow_Jobs, Tent_Sex, Piercings, Tattoos,
      First_Time, Bottom_Harry, Consensual
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-14 Words: 6074
****** Flower Power ******
by Suzie_Shooter
Summary
     15 year old Harry gets lost at a festival and meets biker!Zayn, who
     is all too happy to take care of him...
     Written for the prompt of 25 y/o bad boy Zayn with flat hair, dressed
     in docs, ripped dark skinny jeans and his worn leather jacket,
     covered in tattoos and snake-bite lip piercings domming a very
     innocent flower crown wearing 15 y/o pretty little sub boy with big
     green eyes and plump pink lips, named Harry.
Harry stumbled on through the crowds with a mounting sense of unease
threatening to overwhelm his natural optimism. When he'd first got separated
from his friends in the packed festival he hadn't been that worried, assuming
he'd run into them again at some point. It was only as the day had worn on and
he hadn't caught sight of them, that he'd started to appreciate just how big
this festival was. That had been hours ago, and he was tired, foot-sore, and
had no idea where his tent was. The last straw had come a few minutes ago when
he'd discovered his wallet was gone - plucked from his back pocket at some
point without him even feeling it go.
Suddenly the people around him seemed more threatening than they had a moment
ago. Nearly everyone was taller than him, older than him, drunker than him. The
sun was going down and after hours of feeling hot and thirsty, the evening
breeze against the drying sweat on his body made him shiver.
"Hey, watch where you're going!"
Harry jumped and looked down. Distracted, he'd wandered off the main path and
into one of the camping areas, and was so busy trying to spot his tent amongst
the thousands of identical rows of canvas, that he'd knocked over someone's
bottle of beer. He stammered an apology, eyes widening as he took in the
appearance of the man snatching the bottle back out of the grass. Shaved head,
tattoos, leather vest - Harry's breath caught in his throat as the man looked
up at him. Apparently deciding Harry was too inoffensive looking to bother
with, he frowned and flicked a hand at him in dismissal.
Harry took a quick step backwards in relief, only to bang into another body
behind him. Hands came to rest on his shoulders, and he'd wrenched himself free
in sudden fright before registering that the hands had been steadying him,
stopping him fall over.
"Easy, kid. We ain't gonna eat ya." The man who he'd bumped into raised his
hands in a mocking indication of harmlessness. He didn't look harmless. He
looked terrifying. Harry looked round desperately, realising he was surrounded
by leather clad bikers, and looking for a way out.
"What have we got here?" The men in front of Harry moved aside to let someone
else through, someone who looked down at Harry as if he was a member of a
different species. He must look it, Harry thought, taking in the newcomer's
appearance. Biker boots, black jeans that looked sprayed on, leather jacket
hanging open over a ripped t-shirt. Silver rings on both hands, and a silver
hoop curling over each corner of his bottom lip, that Harry stared at in
fascination.
"Problem?"
Harry blinked, swallowed, wrenched his gaze up to meet the man's eyes. To his
relief, they didn’t look angry, just amused.
"No. Sorry." Harry flushed as the dark eyes continued staring at him. "I, ah.
I'm just a bit - lost."
"Lost your mummy? Oh dear." The men standing around him sniggered, and Harry
felt a flush of embarrassment.
"I'm not with my mother," he said indignantly, trying for haughty indignance
and falling short.
The sniggering turned into open laughter, and to his shame Harry felt tears
prickling at the corner of his eyes.
His misery must have shown, because the young man's expression softened
slightly "Hey, ignore them. You're in no danger from us. What's your name?"
"Harry."
"Well, hey Harry. I'm Zayn."
Harry mustered a tentative smile and Zayn smiled back, then gave a sudden
laugh. "Hey, guys, I think we found ourselves a new mascot."
There was more laughter and Harry flinched, but this time it was less abrasive,
and the men standing around him started to drift off again, sitting back down
and going back to their conversations until it was just him and Zayn standing
there.
Zayn frowned, looking properly at Harry for the first time. "You okay kid? Are
you really lost?"
Harry nodded wearily. "I can't find my friends. Or my tent. And I lost my
wallet, and I haven't got any money, and I'm just so tired." He trailed off,
feeling silly and small and wishing he'd never come. To his surprise though,
Zayn slung an arm round his shoulders.
"You wanna beer?"
Harry hesitated, wary of accepting a drink from a stranger, but his raging
thirst overruled him and he nodded. To his relief he was tossed a bottle from a
cooler and handed an opener. He levered the cap off himself with inexpert
fumbling, and drank gratefully.
Zayn flung himself down on the grass and grabbed a bottle, patting the ground
to indicate Harry should join him. He sat next to him, smiling shyly.
"Thanks."
"No worries." Zayn held out his bottle and clinked it against Harry's. "You
looked like you could do with one."
"Wish I'd never come," Harry muttered.
"Aw, don't be like that." Zayn gave him a lopsided smile and stretched his legs
out in front of him, leaning back on his hands. It stretched his t-shirt over
his chest, and Harry couldn't help looking at the outline of his body, taut and
muscled underneath. Zayn's beer bottle was wedged in between his thighs to keep
it upright, and it looked vaguely obscene. Harry shifted awkwardly, aware of a
guilty twitch in his shorts.
Zayn was watching him again, although thankfully his gaze was fixed on Harry's
face. "Do you come often? To the festival, I mean," he added slyly, smirking at
the immediate blush blooming on Harry's cheeks.
Harry shook his head. "First time."
"We come every year." Zayn took a long drink from the bottle, aware of Harry
watching his throat as he swallowed.
"I wanted to come last year, but I wasn't - " Harry cut himself off just in
time. 'Wasn't allowed,' he’d been going to say. Way to make an adult
impression. "I couldn’t make it," he amended carefully. His mother hadn't
wanted him to come this year either, it was only because Niall's older brother
had promised to take care of them both that she'd eventually relented. He
wondered briefly where they were, whether they were frantically looking for
him, or just lying pissed in a field somewhere by now. He suspected the latter,
and finished off his own beer in a spike of annoyance.
Zayn laughed softly, and handed him another bottle without being asked,
flicking the cap off with a practised jerk of his wrist.
"I can't pay you for these," Harry said awkwardly, taking it anyway.
Zayn shook his head. "Don't be daft. We've got plenty. Spirit of the festival
anyway, innit."
"Is it?"
"Peace and love and all that shit."
Harry smiled, and Zayn grinned at him. "That's better. Get that second one down
you, you'll soon perk up. Looked like a lost fucking puppy for a minute there."
"You rescue puppies a lot?" Harry sipped from the second bottle more slowly.
He'd been out in the sun all day with nothing to eat, and the first one was
already making his head a bit swimmy.
"Totally. All the time, man. It's like our motto. Give us puppies or give us
death." Zayn grinned and hefted his empty bottle thoughtfully, before tossing
it overhead towards a row of tents opposite. It bounced off the canvas, clearly
hitting someone inside judging by the indignant roar. "Shot!" Zayn punched the
air as a sunburned face looked out at him and glared.
Zayn waved. "Hey Louis."
"Like you've ever been into puppies," Louis growled, having clearly been
eavesdropping. "Last tits you were interested in were your mother's. Probably
still are."
"Ah, go back to your wanking," Zayn called unconcernedly, and Louis' head
disappeared crossly back into the tent to the echoing laughter of the others.
Harry had watched all this with a bemused smile. The banter between the bikers
seemed rough and intimidating, but he was starting to see there was no malice
to it.
"So." Zayn regarded him thoughtfully. "Truth time. How old are you, really?"
Harry considered lying, then sighed. "Fifteen." He stared at the bottle in his
hands for a while, wondering if Zayn would take it away again, then realised
that a group of half-pissed bikers probably wouldn’t care that much. "How old
are you?" He asked, hoping to deflect attention.
"Twenty five." Zayn smirked. "Your mother know you're here?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Although probably figures I'm tucked up in a tent with my
friend right now."
Zayn's smirk got distinctly dirtier. "Your friend a girl or a boy?"
"Boy."
"You fucking?"
"No!" Harry looked up, shocked. "We're - just friends."
"Huh. Good friends?"
"It's not like that!"
"Okay, okay. Just asking." Zayn shrugged, and accepted a bottle of vodka that
was being passed round. He took a swig, then held it out to Harry. "Want some?"
Harry took it cautiously. "I - I don't know."
"Well just pass it on then." Zayn let go, so Harry had to grab the bottle. He
bit his lip, then took a swig. The liquid burned his throat, and he held the
bottle out blindly, feeling unseen hands take it from him. He swallowed hard,
desperately trying not to cough.
Once the tears had been blinked out of his eyes and a fresh slug of beer had
eased the convulsions of his throat, Harry felt a warmth in his belly that made
him feel grown-up and slightly more confident. He found himself staring at the
rings through Zayn's lip again, and licked his own lips thoughtfully.
"Did that hurt?" he asked.
Zayn pinched his lower lip between thumb and forefinger, as if he'd forgotten
they were there. "Nah. Not really." He raised an eyebrow. "You like 'em?"
"They're great." Harry caught himself wondering what it would be like to kiss
someone with lip rings like that, and looked away in case Zayn should somehow
guess what he was thinking.
"You got any piercings?" Zayn asked conversationally, and Harry giggled.
"No."
"Just the flowers, huh?"
"What?" Harry's hand flew to his head, feeling plastic petals crumple under his
fingers. "Oh, God." He'd completely forgotten he was wearing a fucking flower
crown, some stoned girl in bare feet and inadvisable tie-dye had bestowed it
upon him hours ago. He must look like a complete twat.
Harry pulled it off and threw it down on the grass, cheeks aflame. Zayn though,
bent down and picked it up again. He shuffled over to kneel in front of Harry,
and positioned it carefully back on his head.
"It suits you," he said quietly. "Never be ashamed of who you are, Harry."
Harry swallowed. Zayn was very close, he could smell his aftershave, or perhaps
deodorant, mingled with beer, and cigarette smoke, and sweat. He was exactly
the kind of guy Harry's mother spent hours warning his sister about. Maybe she
should have warned Harry, too. It would be awful if Zayn was to push him down
and take disgusting advantage of him, Harry thought, a touch wistfully. But
Zayn had sat back down and was opening another beer, and Harry squirmed hastily
round so his shorts were a bit baggier in the front and less likely to make it
obvious he now had a semi.
The vodka bottle came round again, and this time Harry took a smaller swallow
and managed not to choke. Another round of beers followed, and Harry was
starting to feel a bit dizzy. The sun was almost down by now, the final rays
hitting the tents across the valley. Where they were sitting was in deep
shadow, and Harry's shivering was getting worse.
"You cold?" Zayn yawned. "Hey Liam, get the fire going."
"What did your last slave die of?" came the grumpy response, but someone got up
and started fiddling about with the stack of wood they'd clearly set up
earlier. Harry recognised him as the guy whose beer he'd knocked over, and
wondered if it was too late to apologise. He was also starting to realise that
Zayn was apparently the leader of this little group, and that it was perhaps
Zayn's interest that meant the rest were leaving him alone.
The wind got up even more, and Harry rubbed his arms. Beside him, Zayn slid off
his leather jacket and draped it round Harry’s shoulders. "Better?"
Harry looked up at him in surprise, pulling it closer round him. It smelt of
Zayn, the old leather soft against his skin, warmed from Zayn’s body.
"Thank you."
"Can't have you catching a chill." Zayn smiled at him, and Harry felt a shiver
run through him that had nothing to do with the cold.
Now his jacket was off, Harry could see Zayn's arms were covered in tattoos,
and he explored them with his eyes, fascinated. There were lots of them,
intertwined into two full sleeves, and Harry wondered how long they'd taken.
Zayn had moved closer, and Harry was painfully conscious of Zayn’s leg pressed
against his own. Zayn was leaning back, arm out behind him for support as he
watched the flames take hold in the fire pit, helped along by a liberal splash
of lighter fluid. Harry pretended Zayn's arm was around him, and sighed
quietly.
"You tired?" Zayn asked, taking Harry's sigh for a yawn.
Harry shook his head, although he was. The alcohol was making him sleepy and
pliant, and he wondered if he dared lean against Zayn's shoulder.
Something else was being passed round the camp fire now, and Harry realised it
was a cigarette. When it reached Zayn he took a long drag, eyes closed, then
held it out to Harry.
"You want to get high?" he murmured.
Years of parental and school-based stricture took hold, and Harry shook his
head nervously, hoping Zayn wouldn't either press the matter or laugh at him.
Zayn just smiled lazily and passed the joint on to the man sitting on the far
side of Harry without a word. Instead, he leaned in closer. Zayn's hand came to
rest on his bare knee, and Harry's dick gave a fresh lurch of interest.
"How about sex? You want to get fucked?"
For a second Harry didn't believe his ears and just stared stupidly up at him.
"What?"
"Do. You. Want. To. Fuck?" Zayn repeated, slowly and deliberately. He let his
hand slide up Harry's leg, fingers stroking along his inner thigh.
"I - I - " Harry stuttered, suddenly struck with nerves. A moment ago he'd been
happily fantasising about Zayn kissing him, but to be suddenly confronted with
the reality of letting a man he'd only just met actually have sex with him was
more than he could comfortably process.
Zayn grinned, looking slightly feral in the firelight. His fingers were teasing
at the leg of Harry's shorts now, dipping under the material and exploring
upwards. Harry could no longer hide the fact he was stiff as a board, his
shorts tented incriminatingly over his dick.
"Yes? No? Maybe?" Zayn hazarded, letting his lips brush the edge of Harry's
jaw. His hand ghosted lightly over the bulge in Harry's shorts, barely a touch,
but enough to draw the material across the head of Harry's cock, making him
stifle a whimper.
"...maybe?" Harry breathed, wondering if he was being stupidly reckless but
suddenly desperate for Zayn to touch him again, touch him properly.
He felt Zayn smile against his chin.
"Come with me." Zayn stood up and held his hand out. Harry took it and let Zayn
pull him to his feet. He swayed a little, abruptly discovering exactly how
drunk he was, and Zayn slid an arm around his waist.
"Okay?"
Harry managed a nod, and Zayn lead him between a row of tents. They hadn't gone
far before Zayn dropped to his knees and unzipped the front of one, gesturing
for Harry to crawl inside first.
Nervous and excited all at once, Harry did as he was bid, crawling on hands and
knees into the warm interior. Soft fabric wrinkled under his hands, and he
found himself sitting on Zayn's sleeping bag. A moment later, the noise of a
zip told him Zayn had closed them in, and his heart beat faster in his chest.
"Well, hey there." Zayn joined him on the sleeping bag, grinning in the half-
light and prising off his boots. "I don't think you need this on any more?"
Zayn reached out and pushed his jacket off Harry's shoulders, spreading it over
the rolled up jumper he'd apparently been using as a pillow.
Satisfied, he turned back to Harry, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head up
gently and finally bending to kiss him.
Harry felt Zayn's lips against his mouth, the first kiss almost chaste,
experimental. When he didn’t pull away, he felt Zayn’s lips part against him,
the flicker of a tongue against his lips. Harry opened his mouth, felt Zayn
immediately lick inside, possessing and greedy.
He'd never kissed another boy before, never really been kissed, not like this,
not by someone who unequivocally knew what they were doing, knew what they
wanted. He started kissing back, pushing his own tongue into Zayn's mouth, lips
pressing harder against the ones working against his mouth.
Zayn made a noise of approval in his throat, pulled Harry into his arms, still
kissing him. Somehow Harry was now on his back with Zayn's knee between his
thighs, pressing against his groin. Zayn was bending over him, running his
hands up under Harry's t-shirt.
"Off."
Harry raised his arms obediently and Zayn pulled his t-shirt off over his head,
taking the flower crown with it and chucking both somewhere into the shadows of
the tent. He straddled Harry's legs and bent forward, licking at one dark
nipple, then the other, then sat back, studying Harry's pale chest with a
hungry pleasure.
"You missed a couple."
Zayn's expression of mildly predatory arousal slipped into a comical look of
confusion as Harry guided his hand lower down over his ribs. After a second he
started laughing.
"You do not have extra nipples. What are you a fucking kitten, or a Bond
villain?"
Harry shrugged, smiling, as Zayn shook his head in amusement. There'd been a
moment when he'd felt a little uncomfortable, wondering whether he'd made the
right choice in letting Zayn take him away from the others, but it had melted
away with Zayn's genuine, easy laughter.
Zayn stripped his own shirt off, and Harry saw he had tattoos on his chest and
torso as well. As they appeared to have jumped right to a certain level of
intimacy, Harry reached out unashamedly and traced the lines with his fingers,
curious and fascinated. Zayn let him, exploring Harry's unmarked body with his
own interest, his teasing fingertips making the boy squirm beneath him.
Harry could feel Zayn getting hard in his jeans, and bit his lip self-
consciously. The growing pressure pushed firmly against his own erection, and
it was all he could do not to rub himself blatantly against it. Zayn lay down
on top of him, kissing him again, the unfamiliar press of metal rings against
his lips. Harry let his tongue run over the piercings, sucking Zayn's lip into
his mouth and feeling the hum of approval it caused. Zayn was rubbing
insistently up against him and Harry groaned without meaning to.
Laughing, Zayn sat up and hooked his fingers into Harry’s shorts, pulling them
down his legs and off, along with his canvas shoes. Harry sat there with Zayn
kneeling between his splayed legs, naked apart from his boxer shorts. He
watched with nervous anticipation as Zayn unbuckled his own belt and unzipped
his jeans, taking out his cock. It was considerably bigger than Harry's, and he
took a shaky breath, not quite sure what Zayn was going to do.
"So, you going to suck it for me?" Zayn asked, sounding more hopeful than
demanding. Harry's eyes half crossed trying to focus on the cock waving in
front of his face and Zayn laughed. "Go on," he crooned. "Let me put it in your
mouth like a good boy." He knelt there, stroking himself slowly and watching
Harry's face.
Harry finally made up his mind and opened his mouth, not entirely sure what to
do but assuming Zayn would take charge. He tensed slightly as Zayn pushed it
between his lips, but the half-expected full thrust didn’t come, and he closed
his lips around it, tongue flattened against the head. Zayn held himself still,
smiling faintly as Harry explored him, licking hesitantly at first, then
getting bolder, sucking around the head, licking up the side. Harry brought his
hands up to steady the shaft, and left them there to stroke in place of Zayn's,
head bobbing slowly now as he worked out how far in he could comfortably take
him.
After a while Zayn started pushing slowly in and out, enjoying the swell of
Harry's plump lips around his cock, the tickle of warm breath from Harry's
nose, the way he seemed to be genuinely getting into it.
Finally, Zayn pulled back, a hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock.
It would be too easy to let Harry carry on and make him come, but he wanted
more than just a blow job. He peeled his jeans off the rest of the way and
reached out to take off Harry's boxers too. Harry looked a little startled, but
he didn’t protest.
Zayn crawled over him, lying back down on top of him and letting his cock slide
between Harry's parted legs. He kissed him, feeling Harry's swollen cock
pressing against his stomach and feeling his own throb with need.
"So?" Zayn murmured against Harry’s throat, making heat prickle all down his
body.
"So?" Harry echoed breathily, a little confused and worried he'd missed
something. Zayn smirked.
"We're still on a 'maybe', remember. So - you wanna fuck, or what?"
Harry bit his lip, fighting a losing battle against the blush re-taking
possession of his face. Zayn was rocking against him, slowly and deliberately,
and Harry was already worried about coming all over him by accident.
Zayn kissed him lightly on the lips. "We could just get each other off, if
you'd rather?" he offered, the insistent pressure of his dick between Harry's
legs making it clear which option he'd prefer.
"I want to..." Harry whispered, but there was a hesitation in his voice and
Zayn stifled a sigh.
"But?" he prompted.
"It's - I just - um."
"Your first time?" Zayn guessed, and Harry nodded. "That's okay. I wasn’t
expecting you to be an expert," Zayn smirked, dipping his head to roll one of
Harry's nipples under his tongue.
Harry gave a breathy laugh, and shook his head. "Will you - you know. Use a
thing?"
Zayn snorted. "Yeah, I got condoms."
"Okay." Harry nodded, and Zayn kissed him harder, tongue hot and suggestive in
his mouth.
"Yeah? Was that a yes?"
Harry nodded again. "Yes."
Zayn sat up, then reached out and tweaked Harry's nose. "Hold that thought."
He climbed off him and started a mildly frantic search through his rucksack,
giving Harry a moment to lie back and catch his breath. He watched Zayn move,
realising for the first time he had tattoos on his back as well. He could see
Zayn's erection bobbing in front of him as he shifted about, and felt a smile
tugging at his lips.
Harry felt vaguely as if he should be feeling guilty about this, but instead
just felt a mounting excitement. There were still nerves too - would it hurt,
would he be any good - but mostly Harry just wanted to know what it would feel
like to have Zayn inside him. He started stroking himself, a slow, delicious
pull of his fingers, just enough to keep him fully hard while Zayn emptied what
appeared to be the entire contents of his rucksack over the tent.
"Aha!" Zayn sat up, having finally discovered a condom in the back pocket of
his discarded jeans. He tore it open and sat down to roll it on, aware of Harry
watching him intently. Looking up, he caught Harry's eye and grinned. "Watch
and learn."
Harry giggled, then looked embarrassed. "I know how it works," he protested
half-heartedly, knowing Zayn was only teasing but not wanting him to think he
was clueless.
"That's all right then." Zayn kissed him quickly, and winked. "Wouldn’t want it
to come as a nasty surprise."
Harry rolled his eyes, and Zayn smirked. He pushed Harry firmly down onto the
sleeping bag and picked up a tube of lubricant from the mess he'd tipped out
across the tent floor. Harry lay where he'd been put, watching silently as Zayn
squeezed some out on his fingers and worked it up his cock.
When he was satisfied, Zayn tossed the tube away and grinned at Harry. "Turn
over. I want my little lost puppy on all fours."
Harry did as he was told, scrambling up onto hands and knees with his back to
Zayn, breathing hard already. Zayn shuffled up behind him, and laid a soothing
hand on Harry's back.
"Relax," he murmured. "It's gonna hurt if you're all tense babe."
Harry let his head droop, trying to breathe deeply rather than fast and
shallow. He rested on his forearms, jumping nervously as Zayn's hands came to
rest on his buttocks, spreading them apart with his thumbs.
Zayn pursed his lips then spat, a string of saliva dripping down over Harry's
hole. He moved in until the head of his cock was nudging against Harry's body,
sticky with lube and spit. "Okay?" he asked. "We good to go?"
"Uh huh." Harry simultaneously gritted his teeth and tried to relax. He felt
Zayn pushing against him, fingers stretching him open and then a burst of pain
as Zayn thrust past the tight ring of muscle and into his body.
He wasn't aware he'd cried out until the white noise in his head subsided a
little, and he became conscious of Zayn stroking his back.
"Okay? Too much?" Zayn slid a hand round in front of him and squeezed Harry's
cock encouragingly. "Good for a little more? Nearly there." He pushed further
in, and Harry whined in pain, head falling to rest on his arms, gasping for
breath.
To his relief and eternal gratitude Zayn held himself still for a moment,
letting Harry get used to the feeling of being filled. It felt like he'd been
split in two, there were tears in his eyes and for a miserable minute Harry
thought he couldn’t do it, that he'd have to beg Zayn to stop. Gradually
though, the initial flare of agony faded away and Harry found he could breathe
normally again.
"Okay." Harry lifted his head, feeling weak but oddly triumphant. "I'm okay."
Behind him Zayn laughed, but not unkindly. "Make a man out of you yet," he
murmured, and thrust quickly the rest of the way in. Harry's eyes felt like
they were going to pop out of his head, he hadn't imagined it was physically
possible for Zayn to go any deeper, but now he could feel Zayn’s legs against
the backs of his thighs, the brush of the hair at his groin, the soft press of
his balls. Slowly, Zayn drew out again before sliding back in, smooth and
mostly careful.
"Fuck." Harry swallowed convulsively, hands bunched in fists as Zayn continued
to thrust in and out, hands braced on his hips, pushing into the virgin
tightness of Harry's body again and again. It got gradually easier, and Harry
found after a while he was rocking back onto him with the same rhythm.
He'd imagined being fucked before, lying in his bedroom at home with the
curtains shut tight and his fist around his cock, but found now it had never
come close to reality, to this incredible sensation of being utterly filled and
stretched and used.
Harry was starting to shake a little, a building warmth in his stomach coiling
into the promise of approaching orgasm, when Zayn abruptly pulled all the way
out, leaving Harry blinking in surprise. Zayn though, wriggled round in front
of him and held out his arms.
"Come here," he instructed, and Harry climbed onto his lap, confused but
willing.
"That's it. Now - there, that's good." Zayn pushed him into position over his
cock and held himself steady. "There you go. Now, come down, slowly - there it
is." Zayn half closed his eyes as Harry lowered himself onto his cock, hands
tucked under Harry's armpits for support.
Harry whimpered slightly at the fresh spike of pain, but the feeling of having
Zayn back inside him made up for it. Eyes wide, he lowered himself all the way
down, and was rewarded with a grin from Zayn.
"That's my little lost puppy." He slid his arms round Harry’s waist and pulled
him closer, and Harry discovered that not only did this angle feel ten times
better, but it also meant Zayn could kiss him.
"You gonna bounce for me Harry?" Zayn murmured in his ear, pushing up into
Harry's body with little jerks of his hips. "You gonna ride me?"
Harry braced his hands on Zayn's shoulders, knees against the floor, and with
Zayn's help started to fuck himself, rising and falling on Zayn's hard cock
with breathy gasps of surprise at each burst of pleasure.
Zayn kissed him, lingering and filthy, fingers gripping Harry's buttocks as he
moved.
"What would your mum say if she could see you now?" Zayn whispered, smirking as
Harry went scarlet. "Jesus, how easy is it to make you blush? How have you even
got spare blood for that?" He moved a hand in between them and started jerking
Harry's cock with quick, rough strokes.
Harry whimpered again, although this time it wasn’t in pain.
"Is this what you came for?" Zayn continued, breath hot against Harry's ear.
"Did you come here to get fucked Harry? Did you wander up here on purpose, all
big green eyes and flowers in your hair, looking for a man to spread you like
this?"
"No," Harry managed. "It wasn't like that. I'm not - "
"Not that sort of boy?" Zayn nipped at his jawline, before burying his head
against Harry's shoulder, licking and sucking at the pale skin, determined to
leave a mark. "You are now though, eh Harry? Look at you, fucking like you mean
it. You're my little slut now Harry. All fucked out and broken in."
Harry sagged against Zayn's chest, legs burning with effort, chest heaving, the
tension in his groin wound to a state where he felt just one more suggestive
remark would make him lose it. Zayn wrapped his arms tightly round him, and
kissed Harry hard on the mouth.
"You gonna come for me Harry?" Zayn whispered against his lips. "You going to
make a mess? You want to show me how much you like it?" His hand insinuated
itself between them once more and this time it was too much. Barely had Zayn's
fingers settled around his aching cock than Harry was shooting his load all
over Zayn’s chest, sticky white trails painted across the dark lines of his
tattoos.
"Fuck, you're amazing," Zayn groaned, and suddenly rammed himself up hard into
Harry's body, once, twice, three times, rough and demanding. Harry felt the
muscles spasming in Zayn's stomach, his hands tightening on Harry's hips,
fingers digging in painfully tight as he came.
"Uhh." Zayn slumped backwards across his jacket contentedly, and Harry
awkwardly climbed off him, feeling sore and dirty and wondering if Zayn would
expect him to leave. It was almost fully dark by now, and he experienced a stab
of fear.
"You alright chickie?" Zayn sat up and fumbled for something in the gloom. A
second later light flooded the tent as he turned on a battery lantern, and
peered at Harry's worried face. "Hey, what's up?" He held out his arms in
apparently genuine concern, and Harry settled into them with a sigh of relief.
"Nothing," he mumbled, drawing comfort from the arms now holding him tight. He
realised Zayn's chest was still sticky with his own release and blushed, but
didn't pull away.
"Just let me - hang on." Zayn shifted into a position where he could take off
the condom, and then tied a knot in the neck. Harry looked impressed and he
grinned. "Not as easy as it looks."
"Do you do balloon animals as well?" Harry asked, and Zayn snorted.
"Cheeky bastard. Come here." He wiped himself off with his shirt and unzipped
the sleeping bag, wriggling under the fold and holding it open for Harry to
join him.
Once Harry was tucked snugly into his arms, Zayn reached out and turned the
light off again. "You okay?" he murmured against Harry's hair, when all was
quiet and Harry had relaxed against him. "You looked a bit wobbly back there
for a second."
Harry shook his head. "I'm alright. Just needed a minute. It was a lot to take
in," he added, and then immediately regretted it when there was a prompt
explosion of laughter in the dark.
"Well. Thanks," Zayn sniggered.
"Oh, shut up."
Zayn hugged him close, and Harry hugged him back, and they both laughed,
quietly now.
As they lay there drifting off to sleep, Harry listened drowsily to the sounds
around them, people coming and going outside and talking in nearby tents, and
realised with a hot flush of horror that they must have been perfectly audible
themselves the whole time. He buried his face in Zayn's neck and prayed that
nobody mentioned it the next morning.
It was light when Harry next opened his eyes, to find Zayn watching him with a
faint smile.
"Morning sleepy," Zayn said, and Harry laughed.
"Morning. Is it late?"
"Nah, not really. I need a piss though, so shift it."
Harry rolled out of the way and Zayn clambered out of the sleeping bag, pulling
his jeans on before unzipping the tent flap and disappearing. Harry took the
opportunity to get dressed himself, finding his clothes in the chaos Zayn had
created on the floor. He was just done when Zayn crawled back in.
"That was quick."
Zayn smirked. "Couldn’t be arsed to walk down to the bogs. Pissed on last
night's campfire. Safety first, you know." He grinned as Harry winced. "How
y'feeling, anyway?"
Harry considered. "Bit sore."
"Head or arse?"
"Both," Harry confessed, and Zayn sniggered and kissed him.
"We good?"
Harry nodded. "Thanks. For - taking me in and stuff."
Zayn snorted. "Yeah, well, thanks for letting me fuck you rigid. You hungry?
I'll buy you breakfast if you like."
They emerged into the morning sun, and Harry stretched. He felt different,
somehow. He also felt sore and stiff, and groaned slightly. To his surprise,
Zayn slid an arm round him.
"You'll be feeling that for a few days," he observed as they walked down the
hill. "First time's always a bitch."
Harry leaned in to the protective shelter of Zayn's arm, and smiled up at him.
"Worth every second," he promised, making Zayn smile in surprise.
"Glad you think so. Certainly made my festival." Zayn ruffled his hair. "Hey,
you lost your flowers."
"Doesn't matter."
"We should get you some new ones." Zayn's eyes roamed over the stalls coming up
in front of them and grinned. "Or a tattoo. How about a henna tattoo? Or a fake
piercing? Freak your mum out?"
"No thanks." Harry was getting used to Zayn's teasing, and smiled.
"How about a breakfast beer?"
"Bacon roll'd be nicer," Harry told him, and Zayn cackled.
"Where's your sense of adventure?"
"It's too early for adventure. I'd rather have a shower."
"Huh. Kids these days." Zayn grinned. "Come on then kid, breakfast it is. Then
I s'pose I'd better help you look for your friends." Harry looked up
gratefully, and Zayn shrugged. "Can't have you running about loose, can I? All
kind of weirdoes in this place. Might make you do all sorts of horrible
things."
"Like take advantage of me in a tent?" Harry suggested cheerfully.
"Exactly. I mean - I wouldn't trust me with you, would you?"
"I would, actually." Harry shot him a sideways look, and tentatively slipped
his hand into Zayn's. Zayn looked down in surprise.
"Daft bugger," he muttered, but he squeezed Harry's hand and kept hold of it as
they walked off through the crowds.
--
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