CLARIFICATIONS:
Harry has only a couple of his tattoos, not all.
Also I don't know how to write with different dialects/accents because I'm aMERicAn sooo- honestly I'm not even gonna try to I'm so sorry
WARNING:
SMUT- mildish? It's my first bxb fic okay so be nice
I decided to just move the smut into this chapter instead of separating it. So if you read this chapter before it was updated then go ahead and skip to the bottom you horny bastard.
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The time of meeting got pushed back. Work jinxed him a fool. Janet Heel, the editorial director of Flair magazine, carried the pretentiousness of the role but not the leadership. She always let deadlines slip and was very late about things. Sam and him were sent a last minute email about another article that needed editing and a bit more "grandiloquence" to glam it up, as the boss lady put it.
It took about 2 hours. Zayn wasn't exactly pleased, but it wasn't like Harry had anticipated it!
A quick rinse in the shower and a change of clothes washed off his work odor. He doesn't remember the last time he rushed to get somewhere since high school, running late to class or ditching as fast as possible when it was over.
He took advantage of the lack of traffic and pressed the gas further. Water trickled down his neck from the shower. Shit. He hoped that he washed all the soap out at least. It was wet as a mop when he ran his fingers through, rolling the windows down he relied on the wind to help some... Great. He was drying his hair like an actual dog.
He parked alongside a curb across the place. Lights were brighter in the inside of one building than the other, which was dimmed. He guessed the left was the tattoo parlor and the right was the barber shop. Both shared the same entrance, two tall black doors with the owner's names painted on the panes. Looking through the glass there was no sight of Zayn. The first thing you face when stepping in is a wall graffitied with paint. Art, characters, quotes or names of all sizes and colors filled this area, the pathway to the tattoo artist to the left and the barber on the right. The most legible letters on the wall were the largest, H.A.Z.
He had driven so eagerly and now that he was here all of a sudden he felt out of place. He stood under the center ceiling light looking at the dimmed room on his left. He backed out of his awkward stance, running his hand through his still damp hair before jamming his hands into his pockets. Without taking one step to his left, he's stopped.
"Sorry man that side is closed. We're not doing walk-ins at the moment, did you have an appointment?" The man has sandy hair, wearing an unbuttoned shirt with a tank underneath. No tattoos... this must be Niall, Harry takes note. The accent also gives it away.
"Uh, um no." He stammers. "I'm looking for Zayn actually."
Niall's brows furrow for a second. "Oh he's out right now actually, but I can let him know that you stopped by." His heart drops, he did feel bad for making him wait so long but Zayn could've at least told him to cancel. "What's your name?"
Just then cold air blew behind his back. The large doors slammed shut, both of them turned to see the visitor entering. There he was with his hands full. Those brown eyes met Harry and his warm voice greeted him. "Hey Hazzah."
Harry could've dropped dead right there. "Thought I gave you the day off?" Niall jokingly scolds.
"Went to get everyone food. There's another bag in the backseat and drinks in the cup holder." He nods outside, his partner pats his shoulder thanking him before grabbing the extra food.
Dark eyes meet green ones. They've met dozens of times but does that ever get old? There's want and comfort in each other's presence.
"How fitting."
"What?"
"Working as a magazine editor has made you fashionably late."
There's silence for a second, shocked that he was even capable of a bad joke. He lets out a laugh and claps as Zayn bows his head. "Thank you I came up with it on the drive here, you know with the two hours you ghosted me in."
Before he could justify himself Niall was back. "Oh right! You haven't met him yet!" Niall thinks he's talking to him about the stranger in front of them, but it's the stranger who has yet to meet him. Harry already knows a handful about Niall.
"Niall, this is Harry." Zayn introduces.
Niall gives a questioning look. As business partners he knew everyone regarding their work, as bestfriends he knew everyone in Zayn's life really. He doesn't recognize Harry, doesn't know him. Oh well, maybe it's just someone he's missed, with that the thought is shrugged off. He assumes that he's a friend.
Niall's kind, they small talk for a few seconds after they dropped food off for the employees that thank them.
Zayn guides Harry's back with his palm, the small gesture that melts him. He's led into a dark room, his office. Harry recognizes the chair and wall from their facetimes.
Zayn sets the paper bag and sodas on his desk as Harry looks at the picture frames of his sisters on the shelves, guessing who's who.
"Sit." Zayn pulls out sandwiches.
Harry slouches in the chair and hears clanking glasses from beneath the desk between them. Two bottles of cold beers are placed beside the sandwiches.
Conversations with them start formerly, randomly, or with insults, all kinds of ways. There was always something to talk about. When they were quiet it wasn't bothersome or long either.
After eating, Zayn gave him a tour around. On the barber side there stood one brick wall where the hairdressing seats were while the rest of them were dark green. There was a waiting area with board games, chess was set on a table. They played a couple rounds. He gave back stories to trinkets or art pieces hanging around, talked about the celebrities that he's tended to that were nice and the ones that were only nice on camera.
"There was this YouTuber who considered himself a celebrity- can you believe that shit? Anyway, cussed him out cause he was being a dick. Don't even remember his name. Left his tattoo half finished." He hiccupped through his laugh.
"Checkmate."
"Fuck!"
"So what'd he do? Vlog about it?"
"Pfft yeah but know one cared."
Zayn hoped the food would balance out the beers- it did. Resulting in an easy going buzz, both of them detaching from their surroundings.
The tattoo parlor, his side, was painted red with checkered floors. Dim red lights everywhere. Harry slumped onto a cot, resting his eyes and stretching.
Zayn eyed him head to toe, smiling. A sweet creature. He pulled a stool out and scooted it next the cot. His fingers followed the buttons of Harry's shirt, then teasingly flicked his chest.
Harry's hand slung at him, slapping his hands away from his nipples. "Fucker." He chided.
Zayn laughed. He was very physical in touch. Like having his palm on the small of Harry's back from earlier, resting his hand on on his knee when they ate out, and when they played around he would nip flick or ass slap.
Harry would soon grow used to it and better yet, reciprocate it. Speaking of intimacy... He didn't know how else to describe how far they reached without referring to bases. Well they haven't gone further than second base- if you don't count the first time.
They would kiss, they would touch, even though they both felt and knew they wanted more. It would end there. Why?
Zayn hasn't been with a man since he left those experimental days behind. What happened with him and Harry occurred on a drunk whim. He remembers most of it, but not all, nothing vivid. The feeling resonates with him though, always will.
For Harry, it was because he plain doesn't know. He did flirt with men sometimes, back then. They were sly, brief moments that were solely for fun. In terms of experience, there was none. The desire of men live in teen hood crushes that he only joked about to friends, but he would think about them late at night in bed alone.
Maybe he needed to make the move, Harry thought. He sat up, Zayn grasped the opening of his shirt. Harry leans to catch his mouth, but Zayn ducks unintentionally.
"Where is it? Your tattoos?" Zayn looks at Harry's chest.
Harry's mouth was left puckered in the air. Oh. The ones he got in high school. There were a handful, but all of them were hidden. Not that his job cared, they were just in places where they couldn't be seen.
He unbuttons the top, pulling it off. A ship on his arm, a skull, a rose from a first love, but of course Zayn reached for the largest ones.
"Why birds?"
"I wanted to travel. Got em before moving here."
"Why didn't you show yours when I did?" He's talking about the first date, when he talked about his tattoos on the park bench. Zayn didn't find out Harry had a few of his own until a couple of dates later. He begged to see them but Harry wouldn't budge in public.
"Cause I was mesmerized by you." It was true.
He smirked. "Ever think about getting more?"
"Oh yeah. Used to want those corny mom heart tatts and I don't know. Something bigger, like on my belly." He rubs his stomach.
Zayn looks around the room. "You still want that heart tat?"
"No!" He laughs.
"C'mon! We're in the perfect place!"
"You're drunk."
"Buzzed." He corrected. "Plus that never stopped me. In fact some of my best works are when I'm intoxicated." He justifies.
Harry side eyes him.
"Well the best designs I've made were when I was drunk or high- not when I was actually drawing on a person. You know what that's not the point! I'll be super careful. How bout for every round of chess I won I get to tattoo something."
"You only won one."
"One is one."
Harry sighs and lies his arm down. A smile flashes across Zayn's face. He run his hand down Harry's shoulder blade all the way to his wrist, deciding where to put it. He really shouldn't be so trusting with someone having free range with a tattoo gun on his body, but here he was. Harry wishes his eyes would stay open to watch him at work, in his creative mode but he feels a little drowsy. The needle tickles, it only takes a minute.
"Mmh what did you put?" Harry sits up, shocked how fast it ended.
He's handed a mirror, it's a capital letter in cursive. It's loops are neat, flawless. As if the artist wasn't buzzed.
"A for Anne. Since you didn't want the heart. It's like what I did for my mum." He turns his head to the side, revealing a T for Trisha tucked behind his ear.
Harry kisses the mark, the side of his head. Then moves to his jaw, below his neck. Zayn's hand slides against Harry's thigh. Arms loop around Zayn and try to bring him down. Harry's back is flat against the cot, his lips still against Zayn's.
His body hovers over the one lying down with one hand beneath Harry's head and the other sneaking inside his shirt.
"The office is one thing, our work space is another." Niall's words from a few hours ago reminded him. Zayn breathes in and removes himself.
"Not here." He whispers.
Harry feels defeated and it shows. He reaches for Zayn's hand that pulls him off the cot. He feels like tonight's not the night or maybe even the end, but then he feels himself being eagerly pulled into the office. Where the door is shut and locked.
Zayn turns from the door. They both look at each other in the very dim light, the only light, from the desk lamp. It's all sober now. No buzz. No playfulness. Zayn makes the first step forward, halting an inch or two away. His eyes are pending on where to start, Harry bites his lip under his gaze. Zayn's fingers reach toward Harry's neck, cupping the side of his jaw. He inhales him a brief second before delving into his mouth. Harry's arm links Zayn's neck closer while his other hand rests on his chest. His curls, his hair. Zayn adores his hair. He combs his fingers through them, tugging his head slightly.
Not knowing how, they end up on the floor with Harry sprawled on the office rug and Zayn hovering over. Zayn remembers, remembers that night. It was a foggy memory, but it was real. Harry's sloppy kisses from that night, contrast to the direct, eager ones now. Chest to chest, he's lying on top of him. They grew rough, Harry rubbed his crotch below Zayn's stomach. Zayn rose to unbuckle his pants, but his wrist was caught.
He breathed heavily, impatient, but not angry. "You don't... want...?" He asked catching his breath.
Harry perched up. "No! I do!" He blurted. "I just don't know how..."
Zayn sighed with relief, thankful he didn't do anything wrong. He lifted Harry's chin so his shy eyes met his again. "That's okay." He reassured. "How about... I show you what I like?"
Harry nodded and scooted forward to reach for Zayn's pants. Harry was pushed back down.
"No. On you." Let me show you what I like on you. He gave gentle words. "You don't like something, you tell me. Don't rush yourself either okay?" He whispered. Harry confirmed yes.
Harry grunted as his pants were pulled down while his shirt was hefted. Kisses trickled down from the top of his stomach to below his abdomen. The buldge in his boxers now released, the base of him was gripped, Zayn's hand moved up and down steadily. Once he was fully hardened he slid his mouth over the tip. He suctioned his lips and took his time moving lower and lower down his cock.
Harry's shaky breaths and moans filled were blocked from anyone outside the door to hear, the music and chatter from the barber shop drowned out any noise coming from the two.
"Ugh- I'm gonna..." Harry choked. His hands dug into the carpet, when he felt himself coming close his hands clutched onto Zayn as he went faster. It wasn't long until his orgasm hit and he released.
After an exchange of a kiss on the mouth, Harry brought his head down. Lifting Zayn's shirt, he replicated every kiss in the same spotsjust like how he had for him. Instead of using his hands first, he dove in with his mouth. Licking his cock to make his own lube. Zayn hissed in pleasure. Harry hollowed his cheeks inching further down, he stopped immediately, the urge to gag built in his throat. It was too big... Quickly he collected himself and used his hand for the rest of the length that wouldn't fit. Simultaneously he bobbed his mouth down and ran his hand down the rest of the base.
"Fuck, fuck. " Zayn grunted. He wondered how someone who's never done this before could be so good at it all of a sudden. And on their second time! This time now, they would both remember it.