(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)
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******TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING SUBJECT MATTER SUCH AS PAINFUL AND EMOTIONAL INTERCOURSE******
"What is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all
the print I have read in my life."
Walt Whitman
***THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED AND IS NO LONGER CENSORED***
Back upstairs, he went into the bathroom to clean himself up. I relished the smell of him on my fingers, stroking myself until he rejoined me. He came out a few minutes later, and I lit into him, laying him on his belly and kissing along his spine. I spread him open, burying my face inside and devouring my favorite taste in the world as though I hadn't eaten in days. Warm and moist and loud with the aroma of oats from his favorite soap. I ate him until he rasped into the pillow, short of breath.
I got the lube and he turned over to observe me; jittering. He followed my every move, watching me pop the cap and pour a generous amount into my hand, drizzling it over my cock. Now I worked it up and down my hardened length and he shut his eyes. Sensing his apprehension, I approached quietly, shutting off all the lamps in the room to comfort him. I thought it might've helped him feel hidden. Now I sat on the edge of the bed and spoke directly into his ear (the way he liked me to do.)
"Y'ok?" He gave me a nod of approval. "I'm so ready for you, Z. You ready for me?" He nodded again. "I love you so much..."
"Love youh too...m'ready, babe..." He sounded unconvincing and out of breath. I kissed his chest, hoping he'd calm down. When his breathing returned to normal, I lay him on his belly again and placed a pillow under his hips. I fingered his hole until he was up on his knees, craning his ass and begging for more. Lubing him up, I kneeled behind him and marveled at how impossibly stunning he was, on all fours and ready to receive me. I had never seen him from this perspective before, and what made me feel honored was that no one else had seen him in this way. Only me. Not even Perrie. She never would. This was the one thing I could give him that she couldn't, and it sent me on a wild power-trip.
I got him to lay down, then brushed his entry with my pink, oozing tip. As he reacted to it, I massaged his back and hips to draw him closer. I brushed the entry again and tossed my head back, overcome with what was about to happen. Now I broke into him as slowly and carefully as I could, shuddering so violently it felt like my bones would be dislodged.
Z gasped, immediately clenching around the small bit he had received. I pressed further, coaxing him to relax and accept me. "Please, baby..." I begged. "Let me in..." Once a few inches were inside, he became vocal about his discomfort, grunting with every move I made. I was gripped so tightly by him that I couldn't think straight. The hardest battle of my life became restraint.
I must not charge into him like I wanted, desperate to be swallowed by his warmth, longing to feel him clench around me while I stroked him from the inside out. The thought of him surrounding me was a like a drug whose high I was willing to chase for the rest of my life. Surround me, I rasped internally, imagining myself further within. Take me...please... I longed.
"M'tryin', babe..." It's like he read my thoughts. The minute I heard the pain in his voice, causing it to quaver, I withdrew. When I pulled him up onto his knees to face me, he was tearing up. I hugged him until he stopped shivering and apologized for being so greedy. It was his first time. I needed to take it slow. I hadn't prepared him nearly as much as he had prepared me before my first time. Now I was just eager to get into the habit of preparing him every day, so that the next time would be more tolerable.
He lay down and I gazed at his body, drinking it in like it was the last time I'd ever see it. He was always hiding his erection. I noticed he was wide awake now, and didn't know what to do with himself. He wasn't used to being so exposed. I pulled the sheet over him and lay down on my side, studying his upturned face.
He'd lost weight, so his cheekbones were even more prominent than they usually were. All of his bones really. His wrists, his ribs, his hips, his elbows. We never discussed weight. It was the one topic that was off limits for our late night and early morning discussions. Regardless, to me he was flawless. Like he'd been sculpted painstakingly by someone of divine skill. He was tanned too. Lean and brown, golden almost. His eyes were huge. Deep amber orbs, riveting and heavily fringed. He was unearthly beautiful.
I couldn't keep my hands off him. I was obsessed with his body, especially tonight. And something about his fragility in these recent months as he prepared to receive me made him more perfect in my eyes. Vulnerability in these moments was the biggest turn on; something he'd taught me long ago.
"I want to make love to you the way you make love to me..."
"I know...m'sorry."
"I know it hurts."
"Yeah..." he winced, recalling the pain of a few minutes ago. "I never realized how intense it was though...youh made it seem soh easy."
"It wasn't...but, because it was you—I'm just crazy about you. I just wanted to please you..." he grinned and glanced at me.
"I want to please youh too."
"You have. In so many ways."
"That makes me feel a bit better." He lifted his head and glanced over at me. "Wanna try again?"
"Is that even a question?" he snickered and demanded more lube. I drowned him in it and prepped myself as well. This time he lay on his back atop the pillow and I liked the intimacy it afforded with us being eye-to-eye.
Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea. I adopted the principle of ripping off a Band-Aid, meaning the faster I was inside, the better it'd be for him. Taking it slow was sure to prolong his discomfort. I went for it, and instantaneously that proved false. He let out a sharp gasp and lunged himself off me, punching me in the chest several times.
"Oh sh-t...Z? M'sorry, I'm so sorry..." I croaked, watching him climb to sit on the edge of the bed, infuriated. "Z, I'm a f—king idiot. I'm so sorry!"
"F—k off," he winced. "You're such an idiot, Haz."
"I know..."
"Noh, youh don't know."
"M'sorry..."
"You're so f—kin' big, maan...I don't think youh even realize it." I crawled to him atop the bed and wrapped myself around him from behind, my legs on either side of his. The size difference was stark. "You're huge, Haz...all over. Youh gotta take it easy, babe."
"M'so sorry," I whimpered, imagining his pain. "I didn't mean to hurt you. M'such a f—king moron, Z. I don't even know what I'm doing. I was trying to impress you." He leaned back into me, tossing his head back over my shoulder.
"You're not a moron, okay? Or an idiot. It's just a bit awkward, is all. It's like that at first, remember? It took us some time. It'll be okay, babe. Just goh slow, yeah?"
"Mm-hm."
"Youh don't have to rush. I'm not goin' anywhere, and I'm not givin it to anyone else. It's yours. It's all yours." I squeezed him until he laughed, and we lay down and tried to forget what had happened.
********
I woke up in the dead of night to the sound of sobbing. It took a few minutes for the brain fog to disperse, before I looked beside me to see Z was missing. There was a light on beneath the door of the bathroom, and occasionally the sound of hiccups and sniveling. My heart dropped upon realizing it was him.
He had been so confident whenever we fooled around previously, but now with the threat of letting me make love to him, it must've been making him feel totally emasculated. I stepped quietly towards the bathroom so as not to startle him, and was glad to find it unlocked. He had been smoking, so it reeked of cigarettes and the smoke poured out into the room as I opened the door. He was sitting in nothing but his briefs on the toilet lid, pale and shivering. I felt like a monster. He looked completely shell-shocked.
"Baby?" I called, on the brink of tears myself. "What's wrong? What happened?" He didn't speak, he just cleaned his face with a wad of toilet paper and tossed it into the sink. When I came over to kneel before him, hand squeezing his knee, he took a deep breath and finally looked directly at me.
"Hey..."
"You ok? Does it still hurt?" He shook his head.
"Noh, I'm gud."
"Y'sure?"
"I'm gud," he nodded rigorously, which belied everything he had tried to convince me of. We watched each other a while longer, until it began to feel like he stood a world away.
"D'you hate me?" I asked. He nodded. "M'so sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you." Now he gave a weak smile.
"M'kiddin', babe. It's not like that. It's just...everythin', y'know?" he sniffed, glancing at the ceiling in a hopeless way. His eyelashes were wet and clung together.
"Like what?"
"I just feel like...it's all startin' to mean somethin', y'know. More than what I thought it would."
"Z...I wanna understand, I really do. But you're being so vague all the time lately...I can't—"
"We're f--kin' gay, Haz. Seriously..." He looked pissed that I was so slow to understand. "Wake up, maan. There's noh other word for it. Gay...like, all the way. Like for real."
"No, f—k that. I resent that. Don't f—king do that. Don't f—king label us like that. I'm not going in a box for you or anyone else. We don't have to do that, Z. It's us. You of all people know—"
"Then what's gonna happen, Harry? With all this?" he wiped a stray tear from his jaw.
"You mean with us?"
"Of course I mean us, what d'youh think." I took a deep breath, unsure of how to console him. I had no idea what was going to happen now, and I knew the Amy situation had scared him more than he had previously let on. It was that f—king word that had been in the back of his mind the whole time, I knew it. Before, when I had been the one receiving, it was easier to pretend he was still mostly 'normal.' But now, with him being on the receiving end, it was reality changing. He felt like there was only one way to describe him now. I could commiserate because I'd had the misfortune of experiencing the same terror long before him (last year when he first f—ked me.)
He felt a situation like this now demanded he define himself. And I knew he was thinking of his dad of all people, fearful of what he would think, just like I had. He felt he was crossing another broad, uncompromising line of no return. He felt weak. He felt effeminate. He felt exposed. It all came with the territory, and I had been there first.
I had somehow managed to handle it, and had come to enjoy having him inside of me. But was that an inherent aspect of my character? Was it all predetermined based on our personalities? Was I not allowed to change it mid-stride? The idea of topping and bottoming and giving and receiving seemed so much more psychologically complex than the books and articles led one to believe. For some, it was inextricably tied to their sense of identity. Who was I to disturb that in him? Making him change the one thing he had known about himself all along. Was I pushing him too far?
"Baby..." I muttered huskily against his temple, letting him play with my fingers. "Is there anything I can do?" He shrugged. I took his face between my hands, squeezing his cheeks, and he chuckled a little. I wouldn't let him off the hook. I nudged his face up, kissing all over it until he loosened up and his shoulders fell two stories from where they had been.
"You still trust me?" I asked, staring at the top of his head because he continued to look down. Something revelatory must have reached him then, because instead of nodding, he straightened up and looked me square in the eye. And though his voice quavered, he still managed to convince me I was the only person on earth he would allow to see him like this.
"You know how honored I feel by that right? It means a ton to me, alright? I would never take advantage of that, or purposefully try to make you feel weak. I'm not gonna hold any of it against you. We don't even have to try anymore, ok?"
"Noh, I want to." It was the first solid thing he had said all night. He stared at me unflinchingly when he said it. Now he seemed determined to let down his walls, but I didn't want him to feel pressured to change for me.
"Z...I get it... you want to make me happy, I can see that, but I don't want you to feel, uh, indebted to me or something, just because I let you do it first. You know me, I'm not like that."
"It's not about that." He was tired of trying to make me understand. "I want to. I can't even explain it, really. I just..." he sighed right in my face (his breath smelled like Marlboros and Crest.) "I actually do want to experience...that sort of...visceral sort of intimacy—I guess—with youh. It's not that I just want to please youh, which I definitely do..." he gazed at me softly; eyes and nose still red from crying. "...it's also that I want youh to be a part of me." My heart leapt.
"Z...."
"Since I can't give youh labels. I can't give youh handholds in public. I can't give youh even the basic f—kin courtesy of meetin' your family, per say, and havin' them know about my feelin's for youh. And youh know how fooking much I love the fam. Soh, this is just one thing I can finally say yes to, and I'm gonna give it to youh no matter what, Harry. No matter how long it takes for me to get used to it. This is the only part of me that can be completely yours, soh please, take it. I beg youh." Suddenly, I was crushing him, holding him so hard that neither of us could breathe. He laughed when we broke, then closed and kissed my eyes.
"You're my best friend," was all I could think to say. It was probably the stupidest thing I had ever said. He didn't make me feel embarrassed about it either.
"I love youh...more than anythin'. Youh have noh ideah." He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of my neck, pressing his lips to my collarbone in a deflated demonstration.
**********
After a few weeks of us taking it easy and switching occasionally, we seemed to enter a new realm of intimacy, one in which anything was possible. From each other, we withheld nothing. That intimacy reflected onstage as well, as we'd gotten ourselves in more trouble than we'd bargained for. The incident with the Candy Thong was the first time we'd made the news for our onstage antics, and that was enough to scare us both into falling in line, hoping the scrutiny of the mainstream publications would ebb.
Towards the end of June, Z went and got a hideous tattoo of Perrie's full-body likeness, and though it was a bit drastic, I understood why he did it. It seemed to provide a certain level of insurance to our dynamic, and now no matter how wild or obvious we were some days, no one ever thought twice about it because for all intents and purposes, he was mad for Perrie. Mad enough to have her tattooed to his arm for the rest of his life. This gave us a little room to breathe, as did my blip of a relationship with Paige Reifler, an aspiring model I'd met in NYC during our shows there.
After we showered together in Dallas, he lay atop me, head on my chest. He was on his way to sleep when I awoke him with a light back massage. "I can't stop making love to you..." I whispered. He nuzzled my pec, though remained silent.
I lay him on his stomach and took advantage of how relaxed he was. I had milked him in the shower and now he was dead tired. Too fatigued to clench up when I tried to enter. I was always seconds away from an erection when I was alone with him, so I got there in no time, especially after lubing myself up. Now I slid inside, finishing the work my fingers had begun in the shower. He awoke fully, but only to groan and spread his legs to accommodate me.
Inside, I began to tremble, barely capable of restraining myself from railing him. I was so tempted to go balls-deep that I'd begun envisioning it. Now I lingered, half-way inside, pulling out slowly as he clenched and drove me insane. It was so much tighter than any female I had ever experienced, and the friction was next level. I couldn't wait until he got comfortable enough to accommodate more of me, and much deeper thrusts. Until then, I would settle for what he could do, which was getting better each time we tried.
He turned onto his back and I watched his face as I reentered, having lubed myself up a bit more. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes tightly shut. His brow was knitted so I thought he was in pain and panicked. When I tried to withdraw, he squeezed me for dear life, as though his body was not willing to let go.
"Wait," he breathed.
"Baby? Look at me. Look at me." He opened his eyes and it took them a while to focus on me. I withdrew and bent over him for a kiss. "Y'ok?"
"Mm...it's startin' to feel okay. Keep goin'..." With that I set a pillow under his hips and slid back inside his fiery folds, deepening my stroke until he sat up, bracing himself for how deep I was going. He wanted to switch positions, so he got on his hands and knees and perked his little ass up, eager to receive me. I was back inside in a flash, grinding into him, losing my mind as he arched his back and looked back at me. It felt like I was dreaming. He had begun to moan my name.
Not Haz, but Harry. I noticed whenever he let me in, he liked for me to be Harry. It's like I was two separate people for him. Haz, the soft, accommodating submissive, and Harry, the only person on earth he'd allow to f—k him. His dom. His top. His provider. The only person strong enough to set him in his place. The only person who could spoon him and see him cry. The only person who could carry him and see him suck his thumb. The only person he let down his guard for without question.
I was that for him. No one else, least of all Perrie. The more I lost myself to my thoughts, the harder I railed him, relishing his mounting grunts. Now I listened to the air leave his body as I slipped farther and farther into his soul. Filling him. Taking possession. Whose name leapt from his tongue compulsively? As though it were enough to anesthetize the pain and deaden the hurt? Harry. Who was it he called out to in desperation, as though I contained his entire world and he was nothing without me? Harry.
Harry...Harry...Harry, he moaned incessantly, losing himself in a profound demonstration. Meeting my thrusts halfway. Clenching the sheets and curling his toes. Arching his back. Hanging his head when he felt overwhelmed with pleasure, frightened that his guts were about to explode. He looked back at me one last time and I blew the biggest load of my life, right down into the depths of him. I was sure he was pregnant. I stayed inside until I grew weak and my flesh flopped from within him in a sticky mess.
I plopped down on my back and he curled on his side, shivering all over. He was facing me. It's like he wanted permission to touch me after. When I looked over at him, he watching with a furrowed brow, waiting for an invitation. I spread my arm and he crawled to me without hesitation, curling up at my side and resting his cheek on my chest. I pulled the sheets over us and held him until he relaxed, staring at the ceiling long after he fell asleep.
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