The distance from the restaurant to the room is too far for Harry’s liking so he’s already gotten two good squeezes to Niall’s bum (definitely more than that) and a hasty hickey sucked onto the blond’s neck by the time they reach the door.
Harry tries his best not to fumble with the keys while he keeps a free hand wrapped around Niall’s waist, the escort leaning in to his body and mouthing at his neck like it’s the sweetest lollipop. Harry is just glad the hallway’s empty and void of any people because their breathing sounds so loud. Harry finds himself being turned on just by hearing Niall fucking breathe, christ.
Jesus, Harry thinks as he toes the door open and drags himself and Niall into the room. He barely hears the door click close behind him before his back hits the mattress.
Harry just manages to kick off his shoes before Niall gently pushes him flat on the bed and comes crawling on top of him, sleek and graceful like a cat after its prey. The look in Niall’s eyes is almost predatory as his face looms in closer to Harry’s.
Resting on his elbows, Harry leans up for a kiss, his eyes fluttering shut, only to feel fingers pressing against his lips. He shoots Niall a confused look before remembering the blond’s no-kissing rule. Not wanting to let that bother him (he’s going to fuck this boy either way so he isn’t going to complain), he decides to press his lips instead to the pale, smooth column of Niall’s neck that’s left exposed.
He sucks gently at first, his hands reaching to pull the blond’s body closer to his so he doesn’t have to strain his neck too much. Harry lets his hands grip loosely on Niall’s neck and shoulders, and he’s prompted to suck harder by the soft gasp that escapes Niall’s lips.
He was already half hard before getting into the room, and Niall’s body pressed to his only spurs on his arousal even more. Harry shifts Niall’s body a little so that their crotches are pressing on each other, never once parting from Niall’s neck, so he feels the vibrations of Niall’s groan right against his lips.
One of Harry’s hands leaves the blonde’s neck and travels down Niall’s spine to reach for his bum, that lovely, round, perky bum that Harry has spent the whole evening thinking about. Giving it a firm squeeze, Harry detaches his lips lazily from Niall’s neck to admire his work and he sees that the spot where his mouth had been is now a deep, splotchy red. It rivals the blush that is beginning to creep down from the blond’s face and down his shirt and Harry cannot tear his eyes away.
“Happy?” comes Niall’s hoarse voice but it sounds distant and far-off and then he’s swatting Harry’s hands off him, pressing Harry down firmly into the mattress with his hands on the larger boy’s chest to keep him in place.
Slowly, Niall starts to roll his hips, dragging out each strategically placed contact of his crotch to Harry’s so that it’s positively agony. The pressure is all Harry can feel, the temperature of the room soaring, and he cannot contain a moan that escapes his lips, throwing his head back in pleasure, hands reaching desperately to grab onto Niall’s hips.
Niall continues to grind into Harry languidly, drawing out satisfying groans from the birthday boy, each thrust downwards heightened the pleasure yet prolonged the pain. His grip on the smaller boy’s hips tightens as he grinds up frantically against him, eliciting soft moans from his delicious lips. It’s infuriating how Niall won’t do any more that grind on Harry at such an excruciatingly slow pace. At this rate, Harry is sure he’s going to pass out from having a hard-on for too long.
“I think,” Harry eventually manages to say with a wet gasp. “I think we’re overdressed for this occasion.” Because there is no way in hell he’s going torub off on a perfectly fine hot boy on his damn birthday.