chance connection |1| [zarry] (✔️)

onehundredfourtyone

"Happy birthday, my love," Zain mutters, kissing Harry's lips. "You awake?"

"I am now," Harry mutters blearily, wrapping his arms around Zain's neck and pulling him closer. He reaches for his phone to check the time, groaning when he sees that it's barely gone 1am and kisses Zain's lips. "Did you have fun with Louis?" He asks, wrinkling his nose at the smell of sweat and smoke and beer clinging to Zain.

"Yea," Zain says, mouthing at Harry's skin and stroking his hand up Harry's thigh. "How's your head? Can I fuck you?"

"Yea," Harry says, his pulse picking up. Zain tastes like alcohol as well, and greasy food, like pub, and his speech is slightly slurred, but his hands are sure on Harry's skin and they haven't had sex all week. There is no way Harry would say no now, when he's already flushed from a few touches of Zain's hand.

"You sure?" Zain asks, even as he pushes Harry's pants down and spreads his thighs, mouthing at Harry's chest. "You weren't feeling well."

"Yea, love," Harry answers, his chest tight with affection, reaching for the lube. "Very sure. Missed you," he adds, stroking a hand through Zain's hair, dizzy with relief that Zain still wants him after seeing him throw up for three days straight, even though Gemma had said 'if he cares he doesn't care' at least twice.

"Kay," Zain mutters, popping the lube open. "Miss your hair already," he adds, nonsensically, pressing his finger into Harry.

Harry gasps with it, loving the way Zain feels inside him, like it can never be enough and perfect at once, to be full of him, to have him inside. His knees drop open further and he grabs his cock, whining when Zain curls his fingers and drags them out again. He feels desperate for it, tilting his hips up and biting his lips, holding Zain's free hand against his belly, just wanting him closer. Zain is rushing a bit, sloppy and horny, and it burns but Harry can't bring himself to tell him to slow down, not when he's just as desperate, pulling at his shoulder to try and get him closer, whining desperately when he pulls his fingers out.

"Come on," he gasps, pulling Zain towards him more insistently. He gasps when Zain pushes into him, the sensation always new somehow and slightly overwhelming. He presses his cheek against Zain's forehead before letting his head fall back, overwhelmed with Zain above him and inside him

"My love," Zain mutters against Harry's cheek, fucking into him, taking Harry's breath away. He presses his nose against Zain's cheek, holding him close and panting against his skin, clinging to him through the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. He doesn't understand how he can feel so desperate when Zain is right there, can only hold onto him and gasp with every thrust.

He always gets lost in the sensation of Zain above him, inside him, in his smell and the feel of his skin and the sounds he makes, the slight grunts he lets out whenever he bottoms out, the way he holds Harry down by the hips when he gets close and starts getting impatient.

Harry jerks himself off in the rhythm of his thrusts, clutching at his hair to ground himself somehow against the sensation of too much and not enough, of Zain, and comes when Zain leans down to gently bite his chest, like he sometimes does, sending thrills of pleasure through Harry,  fucking into Harry sharply.

Harry comes with an involuntary whine, pulling Zain towards him and Zain grunts, fucking into him once twice and stilling, pressing his face against Harry's cheek and pulling out. Harry wrinkles his nose, not a fan of the sudden emptiness that always follows, and lets himself be pulled sideways into Zain's arms.

"Thanks, baby," Zain mutters, like Harry did him a favour, already half-asleep. "I'll give you your present tomorrow."

"Ok," Harry mutters, amused that Zain seems to think Harry needed to be thanked, exhaustion overcoming him as well. "Love you."