Warning: Basically there are 1,139 words of pure smut at the end, so. Enjoy, you filthy fuckers.
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Niall stares blankly at his brother, a million questions swirling around in his head. He can't bring himself to say anything, a mix between confusion, anger, and vexation embodying him.
Harry looks between the two helplessly, not sure what to do. He doesn't know much about Greg; just that Niall left him and his parents behind in the past for reasons that are justified. He's honestly surprised that Niall hasn't punched Greg in the face already, or worse.
"Aren't ya gonna let me in, little brother?"
Greg has a wide grin on his face; acting as though there isn't anything wrong other than the fact that Niall hasn't let him inside yet. It's utterly ridiculous, Harry thinks. He's positive that Niall thinks so too by the way he's staring incredulously at his brother, like he's grown two heads.
"Let you in?" Niall's voice trembles as he talks, fingers gripping the door so tight that Harry thinks he might actually make indentions, "What makes you think you can just walk into my life and act like everything's okay?"
Greg's smile falters, a solemn look quickly overshadowing his features as he sighs. "Niall, you're the one who shut us out—"
"Don't you fucking dare," Niall cuts him off in a growl, eyes narrowed, "I don't want you're bullshit excuses and accusations because you know damn well that it wasn't my fault when Ma and Dad kicked me out and shipped me off to Uni."
"It was so you'll actually have a life, with a job that you can support yourself on—"
Niall cuts him off again with a dry, humorless laugh, jaw set tight. He doesn't bring his eyes off from the ground. "They just wanted another Greg. That's the only reason why they paid for my tuition. Hoping I would turn out like you somehow, prayed every night for a miracle."
Greg doesn't say anything, and Harry realizes that his silence says more than any words could. It makes his heart ache for Niall, especially as he nods bitterly, understanding Greg's silence too.
"You have five fuckin" seconds to explain why you're here, or else I'll drag you out of here myself."
Harry knows the look etched across his face, and whatever happens, it won't end well. It shoots a sharp chill down his spine, leaving his chest tight. He doesn't want to admit it, but he actually feels . . . scared of him.
"Niall, please," Harry whispers, eyes wide in urgency, "just—come here, shut the door. You don't have to hurt him."
He immediately sees a shift in Niall's posture. His shoulders slump, his hand falls limply to his side. It's like a wave crashed over him and swept away every negative emotion underneath his stony expression when he heard his voice. All on his mind is Harry now, how tremulous and frightened his voice sounded. The last thing he wants is to have Harry scared of him; he can't let it happen again.
"Didn't tell me you had a visitor," Greg mumbles, peering around Niall to look in. His face twists into confusion when he sees Harry on the bed, eyebrows furrowing deeper at the clothes scattered across the floor beside him. Niall kicks the door forward so it blocks his view, eyes sharp in a scowl.
"He's my boyfriend, not a visitor," Niall mutters, and God, Harry swears his heart stutters at that, "and if you can't respect that, you need to leave."
"Niall, wait—" Greg wedges his foot between the door, stopping Niall from closing it. His mouth is twisted in a grimace. "You're an uncle, Niall. I got married to a woman named Denise, and we had a son."
"I—What?" Niall freezes, lips parted as he stares wordlessly at Greg, "I-I'm an uncle?"
"Named him after you, actually," Greg says, face flushing as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. He pulls up a picture and holds it out for Niall to see. "His name is Theo James Horan."
Niall can't help the small smile that graces his lips when he sees Theo. He reminds him of how he looked when he was a baby—thin lips, vibrant cerulean eyes, rosy round cheeks.
"He's such a happy kid, laughs all the time. Can see you in him everyday."
Niall just nods, not sure what to really say. He can feel his throat close up, gone tight and thick. He'll be damned if he starts crying, he thinks, blinking to keep the tears from starting.
"It'd really mean a lot if you at least come see him. Denise isn't too keen on the idea, and neither is Dad, but Ma and I agreed that he should be able to see his uncle. Doesn't even have to be that long," Greg says earnestly, tone almost pleading.
Niall's eyes are downcast and he doesn't want to look up, he refuses. A part of him wants to shut the door in Greg's face and act like this conversation never even happened, but he feels a warm hand press against the small of his back, keeping him in place.
"I think maybe you should come back later, yeah? Give Niall some time to think about all of this," Harry says, the warm, slow drawl in his voice the only thing keeping Niall sane. The blond peers up under his lashes, just enough to see the saddened look on his brother's face before he nods.
"I uh, yeah. I understand. I'll just come by tomorrow before I leave. Jetting off back to Mullingar in the morning, so it'll be before then. Thank you—?"
"Harry," he supplies, dimpled smiled bright as he reaches his hand out. He hesitates, staring at Harry in a pregnant pause before he takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.
"Nice to meet you, Harry. Hope Niall hasn't caused you too much trouble," he says, and it's meant as a joke, distastefully, but Harry can't help but to notice Niall visibly tense.
"Right, well. Reckon I'll see you tomorrow, then." Greg glances between Harry and Niall, gaze lingering before he turns away. "Oh, and Merry Christmas. Nearly forgot."
He's too far down the hall for Harry to even bother replying, and the door's closed as soon as the words leave Greg's mouth, anyway. Harry's eyes quickly flicker to Niall's face, and he's got an unreadable expression. He doesn't move away from where he's standing by the door immediately, and Harry isn't quite sure how long he's waited until he finally does. But Niall's walking towards him now, and goes lax against him when he reaches Harry's outstretched arms. He keeps him close, arms tight around his waist; and if he weren't for that he wouldn't be able to feel the sobs racking through him.
"Fuck him," Niall mutters, and when his chest heaves hard in a sharp breath, it's the first time his tears come with sound. "Who does he fuckin' think he is?"
Harry doesn't think he's ever witnessed something as sad as seeing Niall like this, so vulnerable and small. His stomach twists into knots and he feels like crying himself, watching as Niall's eyes brim with more and more tears, trickling down his flushed face in hot streams.
"You need to calm down for me, love. You're making yourself sick," Harry murmurs gently, fingers carding through his hair. He brings him over to the bed and goes to the bathroom, coming back with a wet flannel. He wipes gently at his face, pressing his lips softly to each spot he dabs at.
"He isn't worth your tears," Harry says softly, "Don't get upset over someone who doesn't deserve you."
Niall nods, angrily wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. He almost looks disgusted with himself, appalled by getting upset and crying. Harry knows it must because of how he is, how he walks with a tough exterior and keeps his emotions inside and to himself. He knows Niall doesn't like to open up to people, but he also knows how hard it is on Niall to keep everything bottled up. It doesn't surprise him that Niall finally cracked.
"You don't have to be afraid," Harry starts, and Niall isn't sure what he exactly means by it, whether he's referring to his tears or of himself. He waits, watching intently as Harry's eyes flutter shut, long fingers coming up to tug on his lower lip, like the way he does when he's deep in thought. He opens them and Niall stares into their deep green color, and it's soothing, odd enough, to see him so collected. "What's the point in wiping them off, or pretending? Just let them fall, it's okay."
He feels a bit silly quoting from a Harry Potter book—yes, Harry quoted Harry, and he tries not to laugh at himself—but Niall's lips are on his before he can think much more about it.
His hands tremble as he cups Harry's face, thumb tight underneath his jaw and Harry goes easy at that, moving so he's straddling Niall's hips. He feels something hit his face, and he quickly realizes Niall's crying again, though, it's without hysterics. He isn't shaking or heaving like before; it's like he's at peace, closing his eyes and letting them fall with a composed, untroubled look.
"I don't want to think about any of them anymore," Niall mumbles against Harry's lips, sniffling, "Just—distract me. Make me forget."
"Okay," Harry replies simply, voice a little breathless. He pecks him on the lips before leaning back and tugging at his shirt. Niall laughs wetly, arches his back to let him pull it off when Harry gives him a sweet pout. When it lands on the floor Harry tentatively reaches out and presses his hand against his chest, fingers splayed across the tattooed sparrow underneath his collarbone. He thumbs at it, specifically over the H incorporated into the flow of the wings.
"Bit overdressed, don't you think?" Niall asks, small smirk playing on his lips.
Harry snorts, and refuses to believe he even laughed at the stupid line. "Working on it, if you'd shut up."
He grins wide when Niall throws his head back and laughs. Nearly knocking it against the headboard, Harry notes, with a quiet giggle. He sits back against his knees to unbutton his skinny jeans, careful not too put much pressure on his shabby one. Niall helps him work on getting them off, licking his lips when Harry wiggles his hips back against him. On purpose, he thinks silently, shaking his head as he mutters a quiet, "idiot."
"Wanna make you feel good, yeah?" Harry asks, and Niall thinks the question is a bit pointless, but Harry's pulling back from where he was biting at jaw to look him in the eyes anyway.
"Yeah," Niall breathes out distractedly, head gone warm and fuzzy by just having Harry in his lap. "What," he swallows, starting again, "What do you want?"
"Want you," Harry murmurs, even though he knows what Niall meant.
He shuffles down the bed and noses against Niall's hip, mouthing over to where he's already hard in his boxers. It makes his hips give a jerk without meaning to, but it has Harry letting out a whimper against him, tongue peeking out to lick at the small damp spot in the fabric.
"Want me to blow you?" Harry asks, breathing hot over his swelling cock. Niall can't help the groan he lets out, hand flying down to tangle in his hair.
"Whatever you want, baby. Could have me blow you and I'd be happy."
And well, the idea doesn't sound half bad, especially when he feels himself twitch in his jeans. He presses the palm of hand against himself before he gets back to the task at hand.
He slips the hair tie from around his wrist off and throws his hair up in a bun, strands sticking out, he's sure, but he doesn't really care at the moment. He lets his hands fall from his hair to place them on Niall's hips, fingers digging underneath the elastic band of boxers as he tugs them off.
He settles between where Niall has his legs bent now, ducking down to lick a fat stripe up from the base of his cock teasingly. He looks up at Niall as he wraps his lips around the head, and Niall has to close his eyes because he's sure he'll come, just from seeing where Harry's got his mouth on him.
It doesn't last long until Niall's about to come, the way Harry's mouth is hot and warm around him bringing him to the edge quicker than he would like. His lets his hips buck up a couple times just because he can, Harry's eyes slipping shut as he lets him fuck into his mouth. But then he feels Niall pulling him off, and he looks up with glossy eyes to see him flushed from neck to chest, lips parted in a heavy pant.
"Wanna fuck you," Niall slurs as an explanation, fingers already wet with lube as he beckons him up closer.
Harry scrambles up and—God knows how—manages to get his pants off in the process. He doesn't know how Niall wants him, so he decides to straddle him again, burying his face in the crook of his neck and arching up obscenely.
"Christ, Haz," Niall curses, finger slipping down and prodding at him, "gonna be the death of me."
Harry only hums, pushing back against his touch when Niall slips a finger in. He lets his mouth fall open in a loud moan when Niall works him up to two, rubbing his leaking cock against Niall's stomach with a high, needy keen in the back of his throat. And Niall doesn't miss the, "more, please" that he whines against his sweaty skin when Niall twists his fingers inside him with a filthy squelch. So he adds another finger, fucking them in hard to hear Harry moan again, too loud and obscene for being in a hotel.
"Reckon you're ready, yeah?" asks Niall, slipping his fingers out and laughs when Harry whines dejectedly.
He reaches over to the dresser beside them to grab for a condom, but Harry grabs his wrist to stop him. He's got a deep blush tinting his skin, face contorted in an ashamed, bashful look. Niall brings his hand up and runs his thumb along the color on his cheekbone, and it calms Harry down a bit, his touch reassuring.
"Think you c'n ride me?" Niall asks, voice low and thick.
Harry quickly nods and positions himself over him, and Niall's breath catches harshly in his throat when Harry sinks down in one fluid motion. His head falls back, baring the soft skin of his neck as a debauched moan falls prettily from his lips. Niall echoes him when Harry raises his hips up and down, working him slowly in a steady rhythm. It's not long before Harry starts rocking against him faster, whimpering and biting his lips until their swollen red. He looks distraught, an annoyed mewl cutting through the air sharply.
"I can't—please, Niall. Just—"
"Alright, princess," Niall grunts as he grabs his hips tightly and fucks up into him, and it was meant to tease him, really, but he can hear Harry gasp as his back bows, and he's coming untouched, streaking white across Niall's stomach and chest.
"Fuck," Niall cuts himself off and comes hard, groaning as Harry squeezes tight around him like a vice. His hips judder before he finally stills, slumping back against the bed with Harry in his arms.
"So," Niall mumbles after its gone quiet, and Harry can already hear the smirk in his voice without having to look, "princess, huh?"
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A/N: Hello! I originally planned to have the smut next chapter but then I was like, I wanna write narry smut. So yeah, that happened. As you know, I'm not totally experienced in writing smut and I'm sorry if it didn't turn out well!
Also, I just want to say a huge huge thank you for 338k reads, and 10k votes! I'm so blown away by all of your support and I can't thank you guys enough for being so fucking awesome. I hope you all had an amazing time over the holidays, and I'm so excited to continue this story into 2015 with you. As always, feel free to leave a vote/comment. I love you all so much :) xx