warning: hints of maturity, but not really, cause I can’t bring myself to actually write that but oh well, hopefully this works
Normally, Niall didn’t mind the modeling.
Sure it was a bit boring to stand around blankly for two hours. And yeah it was weird to have 27 pairs of eyes on him, 28 if he counted the teacher’s occasional glances, but it was art and it was okay.
Out of all those eyes, Niall only ever felt two. Harry’s green eyes burned his skin where they rested and made him hyper aware of everything. He could feel them as they traced his collarbones, as they ran down his chest, as they studied his hips. Niall tried to push Harry out of his mind, to pretend that the boy was just another artist in the same way that Harry saw Niall as just another model, but Niall just couldn’t do it. Not today.
Niall knew his cheeks were red, because he knew what part of himself Harry was drawing. He always knew what Harry was drawing, even though he hadn’t seen anything. Harry’s eyes lingered, unlike the rest of the class, head cocked to the side as he studied Niall carefully. And today those eyes were regarding Niall’s crotch.
Niall risked a peek at Harry and saw that the other boy was gnawing on his bottom lip as he stared intently at Niall. Niall knew that his boyfriend wasn’t looking at him in that way, that he was doing it from a purely artistic standpoint, but Niall still found himself wishing the other boy was looking at him with appreciation, and not calculating curiosity. He liked the way Harry was studying him thoroughly, not wanting to make any mistakes, face alive with concentration as his burning eyes ran up and down Niall. They hadn’t talked about sex – Niall didn’t really think Harry was ready – but Niall suddenly found himself wishing he was sprawled out on the mattress in Harry’s studio as those burning eyes studied him and appreciated him.
Niall bit his lip as he tried to push the dirty thoughts out of his mind, but he just couldn’t. All he could think of was Harry. Harry’s hands exploring his skin, Harry’s hot mouth dancing across his collarbones, Harry’s body lying flush against his, Harry’s lips wrapping around him. Harry, Harry, Harry.
Niall heard a slight giggle and that’s when he realized with horror that he was getting hard. He brought his hands down to cover himself and risked a peek at Harry before he trained his gaze on his own feet and tried to control the problem. Harry’s face had been hard to read, but his brow had been furrowed in thought even though the light behind his green eyes was dim.
Niall’s mind ran through everything he could think of that would make his little problem go away, but everything led him back to Harry. Harry’s fingers drawing lazily patterns on his hip, Harry’s tongue tracing his thighs, Harry’s curls tickling his stomach.
Niall jumped off the pedestal and bolted towards the back closet as he heard the teacher dismiss the class. A few kids let out happy shouts about being let out a half hour early, but most just packed their stuff away quietly. Niall could still feel eyes on him as he stumbled into the closet and shut the door behind him.
He quickly tugged on his clothes, rushing to dress himself so he could get home and fix his little problem. When it sounded like everyone had left Niall took a peek out of the closet and saw that only Harry remained. Hopefully Harry would just let him go. Niall would go see him later and make up for it.
But no such luck. As he crossed the room with his head down he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. Niall glanced up to see Harry looking at him, a small smile on the other boy’s full lips.
“Harry I need to go home all right? I’ll come over later.”
But Harry didn’t respond. Instead he dragged Niall out of the classroom and to the staircase, tugging him down the stairs.
“Harry!” Niall protested. He really needed to go home. Having Harry’s hand on his arm was not making him feel better.
But then Harry was pushing him up against the wall in the staircase, his hands pinning Niall’s arms to the wall and his lips moving roughly against his boyfriend’s. Harry’s knee snuck in between Niall’s thighs and the friction caused Niall to moan into Harry’s mouth.
“You’re coming to my house,” Harry insisted. “And we’ll fix that together.”
Then they were running, hands tangled, bursting out into the street to the immense surprise of Liam, who had been waiting on the stairs for them. A shake of Harry’s head had Liam shrugging and heading off in the other direction as the two boy’s hurried towards Harry’s.
As they ran Niall snuck a glance at Harry. He was excited, but extremely wary at the same time. He’d been to this point before, multiple times actually, but nothing had ever happened. Even in the case of extreme lust, Niall wanted to know that the person he was with cared about him in more than a physical sense. And unfortunately that had never happened before, at least not the way he wanted it, leaving him a bit lost and confused until he had found Harry. Harry was someone he could love, someone who would love him back. Harry had the potential to be everything Niall ever wanted.
Harry was elated. Niall wanted him. Him; weird, quiet, moody Harry. When Harry had seen Niall cover himself and glance briefly at his boyfriend during class, Harry was shocked. He had caused that. Niall had been thinking about him. That thought alone made him happier than he had ever been in his life. And now here they were, running towards Harry’s house, ready to take the next step. Something inside Harry was telling him that once they did this, once they made love, Niall would be his forever. They would belong to each other completely, in every sense of the word. Mentally, emotionally, and physically, Niall would be his. And Harry would be Niall’s. Once that happened, Harry figured they were set for life. Harry would get to be happy forever.
The boys stumbled inside and took the stairs two at a time, crashing through the doorway of Harry’s studio. Harry flipped the lock behind them, then pushed Niall down on the mattress as he kissed him forcefully. Hands roamed, noises echoed, and shirts flew.
Soon both boys were clad in just their underwear and the lust that had gotten them this far subsided as they stared at each other. Niall reached up and brushed a curl away from Harry’s face, joining their lips gently as Harry rubbed his thumb in circles on Niall’s hip. There was an extra sweetness to the kiss that left them both wanting more, but Niall pulled back. He needed to ask Harry something first.
“Harry what are we doing?” Niall bit his bottom lip nervously. He desperately needed Harry to say the right thing. As much as he liked the other boy, one wrong answer and Niall was gone.
Harry was looking down at him with a confused expression on his face. But it wasn’t an ‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about’ type of expression. It was more of a ‘how do you not know silly’ type expression.
“Making love,” Harry finally answered and Niall felt his heart swell. He had asked that question three times before and all three answers had been ‘having sex.’ Twice he had walked, once he had stuck around for a few more minutes.
“Yeah,” Niall breathed, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt Harry’s lips on his. It was pure bliss. The next thing he knew there was cold air hitting his crotch and he opened his eyes with a start. “Harry look at me,” he muttered. Second test. The only other time he had requested this his significant other had looked straight down to his crotch. That wasn’t what Niall wanted.
But Harry’s green eyes were locked on his blue ones. He blinked softly, waiting for Niall to say something. But there was nothing to say. Niall tried to smile, to show Harry how much the other boy meant to him, but his lips quivered and he felt a few tears leak out. Tears of joy. Harry loved him.
