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“Niaaall,” Harry’s voice carries easily through the short distance between the waves and Niall’s ears. He can feel the telltale prickle of an oncoming sunburn and reaches over to grab the tube of sunscreen on his right.
“Harryyy,” Niall calls back, squeezing a dollop of sunscreen onto the palm of his hand. He begins methodically working through his summer skincare routine; meaning, he slathers on the cream wherever he can reach. He pays special attention to his peeling ears. “God, it’s so fuckin’ sunny.”
“Come hereee,” Harry all but whines. “I’m lonely.”
“That sucks,” Niall says, reclining back on the impossibly comfortable lounge chair. He pushes his sunglasses back into place from where they’d been slipping down the bridge of his nose and basks in the heavenly shade of the umbrella. Harry’s going to have to get one of these for his house in LA if he ever wants Niall to visit again.
“Niall. I’m gonna keep bothering you until you come here, y’know.”
“Try me.” He turns his head to the right just enough to get his lips around the curly straw of his mango mojito (the straw was Harry’s idea, but Niall can’t find room to complain. It gives him an excuse to be lazy).
“Niall. Niallniallniall. Nialler. Ni-Ni,” Niall scoffs at that one, “ Niaaaalllll—”
“Jesus, can you be quiet?” he hisses, sinks back into the warm cushions and glances around. “Someone’s gonna hear you.”
Harry smirks and Niall glares at him from behind his shades. “Guess you just have to come over here and shut me up.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You love me,” Harry grins with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and Niall can’t deny it so he feigns early-onset deafness.
That is, until Harry takes a huge, terrifying breath that Niall can hear from twenty feet away, and before Harry can unleash a terrifying yell to go along with it, Niall relents.
“Harry!” Niall bolts out of his chair and fumbles into his flip-flops. “Fine, you absolute baby. I’m coming.”
The look on Harry’s face is entirely too smug for Niall to handle, so he keeps his eyes on the crystal blue waters. “Go splash around or something.”
“But I’d much rather be splashing you,” Harry says and laughs at the scowl Niall pulls.
“No fucking way, Styles.”
“Yes way, Horan.”
Niall rolls his eyes as he steps up beside the lunatic who managed to convince him to step foot on a sweltering hot beach. Maybe he’s a lunatic for letting him.
He sighs as a warm arm winds its way around his waist, leaning into the solid heat of Harry beside him. He shivers as the other man kisses the shell of his sensitive ear, making his way down the column of his neck.
He pulls back and Niall instinctively follows his touch before catching himself a moment later. He watches the waves as they crash into the shore in a million crystals and fade into the white sand as if the fingers dipping under the waistband of his trunks aren’t burning away at his hip.
“Gorgeous,” Harry finally whispers, and Niall has to agree. He realizes that he might have been too bitter about the sun to fully appreciate the beauty of Boracay, the silky sand between his toes and the gorgeous blue-green of the ocean. He could write a song about it, probably, but then he remembers he’s got three songs with water-body references, so maybe not. He’s about to tell Harry as much and ask for his opinion, but.
When he looks over, he finds Harry already watching him, that unbearably soft smile on his face that widens as if he knows exactly what Niall’s thinking.
“Oh.” He swallows the lump in his throat and tries not to fall apart under Harry’s gaze.
“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Harry teases, flashing that infuriatingly attractive half grin that has everyone wrapped around his finger. Niall’s no exception. “You really are.”
“Stop,” Niall groans, but he can’t hide the flush in his cheeks, even with his weak attempt to burrow into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry doesn’t argue, but Niall knows this isn’t over.
He sighs when Harry starts to press soft kisses to his hairline, trying to lean even closer into the comfort that the other man provides. He barely even registers that the hand on his hip has moved until there’s a large hand groping his ass and he remembers exactly where they are and all the other hundred and one reasons they shouldn’t be doing this.
“Wait, Harry, stop,” Niall tries to step away, but then Harry’s circling both his arms around Niall’s waist and pulling him in tight against him.
“Mm, why?” Harry asks, and there are about a million different answers Niall could respond with if only his lips weren’t so goddamn distracting. Harry’s refocused his attention on Niall’s mouth, and he isn’t normally one to complain but it really isn’t fair how good Harry is at dragging things out until Niall’s a buzzing mess. He’s not even fully kissing him, just pecking at the corner of his mouth and nibbling at his lips, and Niall knows what he’s waiting for so he gives up any semblance of disinterest and gives in.
Harry chuckles against his lips, and Niall hates the hold he has over him as much as he loves it. It’s never a question with Harry, no awkward pauses or disagreements about what will happen because it was never up for discussion in the first place. Whatever Harry wants, he’ll get—it’s only a matter of how long Niall cares to keep him waiting.
He gasps as Harry’s hand once again slips into his trunks, this time going further to palm over his backside with renewed interest even though he’s had his hands all over him a thousand times. Harry doesn’t hesitate to lick into Niall’s mouth, curling their tongues together and brushing over the sensitive roof of his mouth.
The waves are lapping at his heels just as Harry sneaks a finger between his cheeks, and Niall outright moans when Harry presses against his hole, a light but firm indicator of what’s to come.
“Are we really doing this,” Niall says behind grit teeth, swallowing thickly at the sensation of Harry’s finger entering him dry, just the tip but still feeling huge with the added pressure of being seen, “ here?”
“I mean…” Harry shrugs his shoulders, dipping his head down closer to his face with that enchantingly smug look. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”
He ruts his hips minutely against Niall’s, but just like his finger, it feels much bigger than a simple shift, like all of his senses have been dialed up ten notches. Niall gasps at the friction, dropping his head onto Harry’s shoulder to just breathe. To take in the firm length of Harry in front of him and the weight of his hand on his ass, the blunt pressure of his finger, the rapid beating of his heart. The prickling intensity of the sun, the calming ebb and flow of the waves, the distant shriek of children’s laughter, the hum of the town behind them.
“I know you wouldn’t, weirdo,” Niall finally forces himself to say, gently stepping out of Harry’s hold and grabbing his wrist. “Can’t have this getting in the tabs, though. C’mon, they’ve gotta have some bathrooms around here.”
“Yeah,” Harry nods, swallowing around nothing and dragging Niall’s eyes down to his neck. “Think I saw some over that way.”
“Lead the way, Styles,” Niall murmurs, leaning in close to press a final kiss to his lips.
They head out back the way they came, Harry guiding them across the stretch of beach and Niall following close behind, never far enough to not brush against each other with every move they make.
Eventually, they arrive at a block of a building, and Harry’s quick to pull him inside. Pristine white sinks line the left wall, large showers at the back, and sizable stalls at the right, the both of them rushing to the farthest stall in the back.
“Fuck,” Niall sighs heavily into the closed door, fumbling a bit with the sliding lock. “That took way too fuckin’ long.”
“Thought you didn’t even wanna do this?” Harry says, a tease in his voice as he crowds up behind Niall, slowly pressing him against the door. “People could still find us.”
“I don’t care,” Niall finds himself saying, paying no mind to the shameful rush of heat to his cheeks and grinding back into Harry’s hips, relishing the low groan he’s rewarded with. “You started this, you better finish it.”
“Bossy,” Harry says, already breathless, and Niall can feel him shuffling around in search of something. “Fuck, I left the lube in the tote bag.”
Niall barks out a laugh, resting his forehead against the chilling surface of the stall. “You brought lube to a beach?”
“A man has his needs, Niall,” Harry says unapologetically, returning to Niall’s back and sliding a hand down his left side. “Guess this means we’ll have to use something else, hm?”
He brings his free hand around to Niall’s mouth, nudging at his lips and Niall immediately opens up, suckling his fingers in further. He tongues around the digits, humming at the familiar salty taste that’s been intensified by the ocean air. He shudders at the solid pressure of Harry’s dick against his ass, pushing back into it as he laps at the fingers in his mouth, jaw going slack to get his tongue all the way to the last knuckle.
“God, you just take it, don’t you?” Harry’s voice is practically a growl, so low and gravelly it makes Niall’s stomach clench. “Look at you. So eager to have your mouth filled, huh?”
Shut up and fuck me, Niall wants to say, but all that comes out is an embarrassing whine, muffled by the fingers in his mouth and the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
“You love it, I know you do. Always want to be stuffed full, huh?” Harry’s breathing heavily now, blurting everything out in a frenzied rush. “Can’t ever get enough. You act like you aren’t fucking gagging for it all the time, but we both know the truth, don’t we Ni?”
Niall sobs around the fingers as Harry starts grinding insistently against him, pushing his fingers in just enough to make Niall gag slightly. He breathes in shakily through his nose, so hard in his swim shorts it hurts.
“Think that’s good enough,” Harry finally says, sounding in a daze as he removes his fingers from Niall’s mouth, and he tugs the waistband of Niall’s shorts past the curve of his ass until they fall the rest of the way on their own, down his shaky legs to pool at his feet. Niall bites back a noise at the feeling of his bare cock slapping against the wall, his obvious arousal smearing wetly on the material. “Fuck, you really got them wet for me.”
“Harry,” Niall says, not knowing if he’s reprimanding Harry’s slow moving, if he’s preening at the awe in Harry’s voice, or if he’s pleading for Harry to just do something.
Harry seems to know though, just like he always does when they’re both so keyed up like this. “Shh, babe, I’m here.”
A slick finger prods between his cheeks and to his hole, circling around the ring of muscle before finally—finally—dipping in, going in fairly easily until Niall can feel the cold whisper of Harry’s ring against his sensitive flesh. He moans quietly, appreciatively at the stimulation, clenching around his finger. It feels impossibly long inside him, and he can barely wait to find out what Harry’s big dick will feel like when it’s finally inside of him.
It’s quiet between them while Harry opens him up, only the occasional sigh from Niall and focused grunt from Harry as he works him up to three fingers, stretching and twisting and curling in all the right ways.
“Harry, I’m—” Niall gasps when Harry brushes against his prostate, not enough to be pleasurable but enough to tease the prospect of it. “Fuck, I’m ready, please.”
“Yeah, fuck, okay,” Harry quickly slips his fingers out and struggles out of his own skintight bottoms, and Niall can only imagine how tented the fabric looked when they were back outside. “God, can’t wait to be inside you again.”
Niall can’t find the words so he just leans into the wall, supporting himself with his hands as he arches his back and pushes his ass out toward Harry. He hears the other man spit so he turns to look, catching a glimpse of him slicking up that glorious cock, soon to be undoing him from the inside.
“Okay baby, are you ready?” Harry asks him habitually, not waiting for him to answer before he slides his dick in between his cheeks, both of them groaning in unison at the feeling. Harry grabs his ass with both hands and squeezes them together, keeping his dick snug between them as he fucks shallowly into the tight space he’s made.
“Fuck, I could get off just like this, just with your ass.”
Niall whimpers as he runs a hand up his back, pressing into the dip in his spine to further arch his back, and then going farther to brush against his shoulder blade and curl into his hair.
“You look so good like this, love,” Harry tells him with a sudden gusto, leaning closer to bite softly at his neck. “I just want to devour you.”
Niall whines high in his throat, so far beyond coherence, letting his head roll back on Harry’s shoulder for a moment before the other man pulls away again, far enough that only the head of his dick rests against Niall’s hole, so close to where he wants it but not nearly close enough.
“Tell me how much you want it, babe,” Harry murmurs, squeezing his hip with one hand as the other slips his cockhead wetly against Niall’s hole over and over again, so infuriatingly tantalizing. “Tell me how much you need it.”
“I—” Niall swallows down the saliva gathering in his mouth, blinking helplessly at the bathroom wall as he tries to get his brain back to working condition. “Please, Harry. I need you, I need it so—so fucking bad, I can’t go without it, plea—”
He’s finally being breached and he chokes out a moan, face scrunching up in the immense pleasure of finally being full again, muscles clenching around the unrelenting hardness of Harry’s length which goes even further past where fingers can reach, getting to all the most intimate parts of him that only Harry’s been. Harry’s hands slip down to his front, one hand spanning the width of his chest and toying with a nipple, the other circling loosely around his cock, jacking it slowly and dissolving any and all residual pain, opening up the floodgates to pure pleasure.
“Harry!” Niall can feel himself trembling, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations. “Oh my fucking god, Harry—”
The sound of a door opening snaps him out of his daze, his breath catching in his throat as footsteps track into the bathroom. Harry stills behind him and lets go of his cock altogether as they both listen to the newcomer turn on one of the showerheads.
Suddenly, there’s this undeniable rush of someone finding them like this, shacked up in a bathroom like two horny teenagers. Finding him with Harry Styles’ dick up his ass and gagging for it like a starving man.
He feels a moan bubbling up in his throat but he can’t bring himself to stop it, some obscure part of him buried deep inside that wants people to know what they’re doing, wants people to know how he’s getting the best fuck of his life.
Luckily Harry’s there to stop him, his warm hand curling over Niall’s mouth just in time to muffle his cries so they don’t have to deal with the consequences. Sometimes Niall wishes they could be in a world where they’d just get written off for public indecency instead of ending up on every gossip rag and news channel in sight.
Harry uses his other hand to push at the small of his back, Niall arching willingly, and then Harry starts thrusting in even deeper than before and Niall’s seeing stars. He has to bite down on his lip to keep himself from screaming as Harry has his way with him, jamming his cockhead into that golden bundle of nerves with every thrust of his hips.
The shower continues on in the background, and in some distant part of his mind, Niall knows there’s no way the other person can’t hear the noise they’re making, the distinct slap of skin on skin that only comes with fervent sex.
It’s almost too much, the sensory overload of Harry’s cock and Harry’s scent and Harry’s hands. And then outside, the rush of the shower, the laughter drifting from the seaside, the ratty aircon above the stalls.
Harry twitches inside him and Niall’s face burns, biting down on Harry’s hand to muffle his whines. They’ve never done something like this before, so public and with virtually no form of security other than a flimsy stall door. Niall knows he should be panicking right about now, he hates something getting out without him being absolutely sure of it first and a million years of planning going into it, and yet he’s never been more turned on in his entire life.
And then—and then it’s all too much. He’s barely cognizant of the strangled gasp that resonates in the stall as he’s sent over the edge, trembling in place as his world goes dark, centered solely on the sheer pleasure coursing through his body.
It’s hot, it’s so fucking hot, knowing he just got his rocks off in the presence of some stranger—knowing Harry’s still having his way with him as he falls apart on his dick.
He’s dragged back down to earth by Harry moaning in his ear, his lips brushing wetly against the sensitive skin and making Niall shudder hard against him.
“God, Niall, you—” Harry sounds in pain, almost, as he chokes around another moan. He hears a wet thud before Harry’s hands fly to his hips, gripping him tight enough to leave marks and mouthing at his neck, and Niall knows he’s dancing on the verge of orgasm.
He rocks his hips back into Harry’s sloppy thrusts, eager to get him off before the pleasure gives way to oversensitivity. He’s no longer afraid of any noises he might make, knowing Harry wouldn’t have opened his mouth if there was someone still inside with them.
“C’mon,” he whispers, his voice completely shot and his words slurring together. “Give it to me, Harry. I wanna feel it inside me.”
He reaches behind him and sinks his fingers into Harry’s curls, tugging him closer to pry his lips open with his tongue and kiss him filthily.
“Please.”
His breathy whimper is what finally gets him, Harry groaning loudly into his shoulder as he pumps Niall full of his cum. Niall shudders at the feeling, the thick, silky heat of Harry reaching the furthest depths of his body and settling warm behind his stomach.
“Oh my fucking god,” Harry’s voice is tinged with a wheeze, and Niall doesn’t have to look behind him to know his face is completely flushed red. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”
He’s still grinding shallowly against him as he rides his orgasm, enough to stir the cum already inside him and ease it deeper into his body to make way for another shot.
“Harry,” Niall hissed as Harry brushed against his prostate, his muscles already beginning to burn with how hard Harry’s fucked him. “Too much.”
“Shit, sorry,” he breathed, stilling his hips as his cock gave one last twitch inside Niall. “Should I pull out?”
A part of him wants to say no, that same part of him that so eagerly went along with Harry’s whims, just to savor the feeling for a little while longer—just make Harry’s mark inside him that much more permanent. But coming back down to earth, logic slowly trickles back into his mind, and before he can start to feel too embarrassed he nods in quiet assent.
“Okay,” Harry whispers behind him, likely sensing Niall’s hesitation, and he traces small circles on his hipbone as he eases himself out. “That was incredible, Niall. You’re incredible.”
Niall can’t stop himself from laughing softly at Harry’s babbling, feeling at odds between the residual lust from what they’d just done and the overwhelming fondness that threatened to split his heart in two. He straightens himself up again, reaching up and behind to stretch out his sore back with a soft groan.
“So are you,” he says back, his feelings overflowing to fill the spaces between his words, and it’s as close to a confession as he’s willing to get.
Harry’s answering smile tells him it’s not just one-sided.
They both fall into the motions of clean up, passing each other tissues and coaxing strands of hair back into place. Niall isn’t able to clean himself fully yet, won’t be able to until they both get home and can hop in the shower together. Not that he minds it at all, knowing that there’s a bit of Harry still inside him as he walks back outside, the public none the wiser to their little tryst.