Chapter Text
As a seventh year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Zayn Malik should have long ago developed the inability to be surprised. Unfortunately, however, there are still things that manage to shock him. Things that fall into this category include, but are not limited to, Josh Cuthbert snogging his girlfriend (Zayn never did manage to learn her name) against the wall of the tiny, single-person Hogwarts Express toilet.
“For fuck’s sake, Josh, we’re not even back at school yet!” Zayn cries, throwing his hands up.
“Mate, it’s been a long summer, let me tell you,” replies Josh, lazily detaching himself from the girl, who’s hurriedly tucking her shirt back in and straightening her yellow striped tie.
“Do you think you could, um, hold it in a little longer? There’re, like,” Zayn does a quick headcount, “seven students waiting to use the loo.”
“Sure, sorry, Zayn,” says Josh, at least pretending to look sheepish for Zayn’s sake. He grabs his girlfriend’s hand and shoulders past Zayn into the narrow train corridor. Josh high-fives one of his fellow seventh-year Hufflepuffs, but the rest of the students just look murderous.
“Right, well, I’ll be going, then,” announces Zayn as the first student in line hurriedly waddles into the loo. He turns in the opposite direction and begins to stroll down the corridor, half-heartedly looking for any students who look like they’re interested in stirring up trouble.
Three train cars down, he finds one. Said student also happens to be one of his best mates.
“Zayn! Zaaaayn! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” he hears a voice call from behind him, and Zayn turns around just in time to accept a flying hug from none other than Louis Tomlinson.
“Hey, Lou,” he greets him, hugging the shorter boy tightly. As Zayn buries his nose in Louis’ feathery hair and breathes in his familiar smell, he realizes that Josh was right: it has been a long summer.
“How come you didn’t come find me and Harry? We’ve been saving an entire compartment just for the few of us, had to fight off an entire legion of fifth years-”
“Oh, I’m swooning,” Zayn comments dryly, letting go of Louis and stepping back. “I got Head Boy, remember, so I have to patrol during the train ride. You did get my owl, right? I tried to tell you and Haz all about it, but you know how Hakeem gets.”
“He found my house just fine,” replied Louis. “Wouldn’t leave without a double portion of treats, but that’s normal. God, I missed you, Zayn. Your family just had to holiday in Pakistan for most of the summer, didn’t they?”
“I mean, it wasn’t just a random holiday, we were visiting family we hadn’t seen in years. Plus, I got to see my old school. Not that I missed it.”
Zayn had transferred to Hogwarts three years ago when he was just shy of turning fifteen. His old school, Sihr Madrasah, was a traditional Middle Eastern wizarding school all by itself in the middle of the Thar Desert. His older sister Doniya had graduated from there, and Zayn had spent a little over three years there. It was a good wizarding education, yes, but he spent almost all of his free time writing home to his parents about how miserable he was, how he missed his friends from home, how bloody hot it was, how there was nothing to do and nowhere to go outside of the palace itself, even how there were no mirrors in the boys’ lavatories. It got to the point where Hakeem, his poor owl, downright refused to carry any letters he tried to send home, and Zayn had to resort to hapless, unsuspecting falcons from the school’s Aviary. When his younger sister Waliyha got to Sihr Madrasah, she immediately began to send similar letters of complaint back to Bradford; eventually, his parents had relented (“At least we tried,” his dad had said) and sent the siblings to Hogwarts during Zayn’s fourth year.
“Well, Harry and I managed to get by without you, somehow,” Louis says theatrically, placing his hand over his heart.
Zayn’s just about to say “‘Get off’ is more like it” when, out of nowhere, a massive purple bruise appears at the junction of Louis’ neck and shoulder. Zayn jumps back, startled.
Louis looks affronted. “Well it shouldn’t come as that much of a shock, Malik, it’s not like the world revolves around your–” he breaks off, realizing that Zayn’s bewildered eyes have been fixed on a specific spot on his neck. “Bollocks, can you see it?”
“Yeah, it just showed up while I was talking to you,” Zayn tells him.
“I just put a Concealing Charm on it, right before I got on the train!” Louis complains. He takes out his wand from a pocket in his robe, then looks at Zayn. “Could you do it? You know I’m rubbish at charms.”
“Yeah, sure,” says Zayn, taking out his own wand. “This should just get rid of it permanently, actually. Maculo Evanesco!” Immediately, the purple color of the love bite seems to recede and fizzle until all that’s left is Louis’ natural tan skin.
“Thanks, mate.” Louis gingerly rubs the spot where the bruise used to be.
“Is that from Harry, then?” Zayn asks him.
Louis looks inexplicably guilty. “No, actually, it was, um… you remember a couple nights ago when I told you I was going out clubbing in London? Mum had to go there for a new training workshop for nurses and she took me and the girls with, and I got my own room, so I figured nobody would notice if I snuck out at night, so… anyway, I sort of sidled up to the first nightclub I saw-” Zayn snorts loudly- “and the bouncer must’ve mistook me for a celebrity, or somebody famous, or someone, because there was this huge line all waiting to get in and he just unhooked the rope and ushered me right through. I didn’t even have to Confund him.”
“Maybe it was your arse,” Zayn suggests helpfully.
“I was wearing my red trousers,” Louis tells him. Zayn can sympathize with the bouncer, honestly.
“So… you shagged the bouncer, then? I didn’t know you went for the–”
“No! No, Christ. He let me in, and after I had a few drinks I ended up on the dance floor with somebody behind me, and we were both getting kind of worked up, and then he turned me around and it was-” Louis pauses for dramatic effect- “it was Greg James.”
Zayn stares at him blankly.
“Hello? Greg James? The host of the Breakfast Show?”
“Oh, is that a BBC thing?” asks Zayn.
Louis looks affronted. “Of bloody well course it’s a BBC thing, everybody knows about it–”
“Mate, wizarding families don’t listen to the BBC. We have our own stations.”
“Oh, right, WWN and all that,” Louis scoffs. “Well, anyway, we, um… we kind of endedupshagginginabathroomstall?”
“Sorry, what was that? Didn’t quite catch that.”
“He – um – he fucked me in one of the bathroom stalls and gave me that giant bruise on my neck. Zayn, people know who he is, and he was inside me!”
Louis looks simultaneously guilty and giddy; Zayn tries to find it in himself to be impressed, compares it to shagging – well, shagging Lee Jordan, for example, but perhaps wizarding radio presenters aren’t as venerated as their Muggle kin.
“Perhaps this story would be better suited for Harry?” Zayn suggests. “I mean, seeing as he probably knows who this Greg James person is –”
Louis jumps to cover Zayn’s mouth, and Zayn doesn’t think he’s ever seen Louis move so fast (except maybe running to Harry’s side after Harry got splinched trying to Apparate for the first time back in sixth year). “Shhhh! No! Absolutely not. You can’t tell Harry. That’s why I’ve been trying to cover this fucking thing up. I… I don’t want him to know.”
Zayn stares pointedly at Louis, one eyebrow raised, until Louis lets him have his mouth back. “Well… I got rid of the bruise, so there’s that.”
Louis nods, face red.
“Um,” Zayn continues hesitantly, “we’re not… exclusive, right? I mean, I know the three of us kind of end up being exclusive at Hogwarts, because, like, I can’t think of anyone else I’d really like to shag besides you two lads, but during the summer…?”
“I mean, that was the plan,” says Louis. “But while Haz and I were waiting in the compartment for you he told me he, um, he hadn’t done anything with anyone else besides me. Like, this summer.”
“So, naturally, you weren’t about to share your exploits, I guess.”
“Right, that’s when I left to come find you.”
Neither of them say anything for several moments.
Then Louis snaps, “Don’t look at me that way, Zayn.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Louis.”
“You’re sure you can’t see anything on my neck?”
“I promise I got rid of it,” Zayn says.
“You promise you won’t tell Harry?”
“Christ, yes, I promise.”
Louis nods, then abruptly changes the subject. “So, is Safaa getting Sorted, then?”
“Mmhmm. I’ve no doubt she’ll get Ravenclaw too, though, she’s smarter than I was at her age.”
“Hey, people in other Houses are smart too, yeah? Professor Malfoy always says that Slytherins are just as smart as Ravenclaws, but without all the arse-kissing.”
Zayn laughs. “You and Harry might be just as smart as me, but the two of you are lazy little shits when it comes to schoolwork.”
“I can’t fault you there,” says Louis. “Anyway, I should get back to Harry. He’s all alone in our big, scary train compartment. Although Stan, Eleanor, and Ed might’ve found him by now.”
Zayn smiles at him and pinches his cheek. “Go cuddle him or something. I’ll see you at the feast.”
“You have to patrol the whole time?” Louis pouts.
“Well, I guess I could maybe, um, ‘delegate’ to one of the younger prefects,” shrugs Zayn. “I guess the point of being Head Boy is that I can tell other people what to do, yeah?”
“That’s the spirit!” exclaims Louis. He gives Zayn a quick kiss on the cheek and turns to leave, yelping when Zayn pinches his arse. “Oi, watch the goods!”
Zayn snorts and turns around, walking back the way he came and groaning when he notices another long line outside the toilet. Personally, he doesn’t like a ton of excitement or disturbance in his life, but he can already tell this year is going to be an eventful one.
xxx
It’s the Saturday after the first week of classes, and it’s an hour of the morning when most of the students at Hogwarts are peacefully asleep in their own four-poster beds.
Unfortunately, this doesn’t include Louis, nor the rest of the Slytherin quidditch team. Louis sighs as he extricates his own grudgingly-awake limbs from Harry’s warm, sleepy ones, finds a pair of pants near the foot of the bed that he awkwardly pulls on while still laying down, and pushes aside the curtains to slip out of bed.
“Seven,” he complains to Stan, who’s across the room getting dressed as well. “Who decided to hold tryouts at bloody seven?”
“The Quidditch captain,” Stan replies, pulling on his trousers. “I hear he’s a raging arsehole.”
Louis snorts. “I hear he has terrible taste in Beaters as well. Might need to pick a new pair this year.”
“Oi!” A balled-up sock hits Louis in the tummy as he’s trying to pull his shirt over his head.
“Hey, at least I’ll be able to tell how everyone plays when they’re at their physical worst. There’s nowhere to go but up, yeah?” Louis reasons.
“You’re actually the worst, Lou. You’re going to have a mutiny on your hands before the season’s over if you keep this up.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not actually planning on holding practice at seven on Saturdays. Just tryouts.” Louis looks around for a spare bit of parchment, finds one, writes a quick note to Harry (“Haz, I scheduled Quidditch tryouts far too early to wake you. I’m planning on using Z’s shower after, so you should join us when you wake up ;) xx – Lou”), and then they’re out the door, rumpled and unkempt and clutching their brooms, leaving Harry peacefully slumbering away in their dormitory. “Anybody who actually holds practice this early, and I don’t say this lightly, is a bloody idiot.”
When Louis and Stan get down to the Quidditch pitch, they discover that the number of students who have shown up is about double the number they’d expected. About half of them are also wearing red and gold rugby shirts, which happens to be quite unorthodox for Slytherin tryouts.
It turns out that Liam Payne, by Louis’s recent standards, is a bloody idiot.
Which is unfortunate, because he’s actually one of Louis’s favorite people in Gryffindor. They don’t interact all that much – in fact, Louis hasn’t seen him at all yet this school year – but they were both made Quidditch captains in their sixth year, and since then they’ve had a fairly healthy rivalry (although for someone who’s supposed to return Louis’s snark and insults, Liam is so infuriatingly nice instead). Liam is Keeper and Louis is a Chaser, so they get loads of chances to go head-to-head on the pitch; they’re also fairly evenly-matched in their skills, which always makes for fun Slytherin-Gryffindor contests.
What isn’t so fun is scheduling tryouts for their respective Quidditch teams at the apparently identical time of arse o’clock in the morning. Louis elbows his way through the crowd to try and find Liam, and he’s shocked when a much taller, broader-shouldered, deeper-voiced boy than he was expecting holds out a hand.
“Hi, Louis!” the boy says. Louis squints. This bloke still has the demeanor of Liam Payne, but his body is something straight from one of Eleanor’s copies of Playwitch. Sixth-year Liam Payne was all softened angles, round face, and gangly limbs; seventh-year “Liam Payne” has grown into himself, shorn off his mop of unruly hair into something sexy and styled, and is, for lack of a better way to put it, really fucking fit.
Louis realizes that he’s staring and abruptly takes Liam’s hand. “Liam?” It comes out as more of a question than he intended. “How was your summer?”
“It was alright, nothing out of the ordinary. Yours?”
(Apparently this person is Liam, seeing as he just responded to the name.)
“Fine. Mostly stayed at home in Donny, went to Muggle London a couple times,” says Louis. “So, you, um… are you trying to hold tryouts right now?”
“Yeah, this lot hates me for it, but I’m trying to channel the last golden age of Gryffindor Quidditch,” says Liam. Louis looks at him blankly, channeling all of his energy into not falling on his knees and pulling Liam’s dick out of his pants. “Y’know, like when Harry Potter was here - he and Oliver Wood both used to hold practice really early and in all types of conditions, and they won so many matches, so that’s what I’m trying to do this year.”
Liam gestures behind him to the huddled, sorry-looking group of students dressed in red and gold. Louis tries to ignore the way that a vein in Liam’s neck stands out prominently when he turns his head. The Gryffindor students keep looking at Louis’s Slytherins like they’re expecting a brawl.
“Oh, um, I was planning on doing that as well. Holding tryouts. Now,” says Louis, still made stupid by how hot Liam’s gotten. He’s never wanted to lick something more than he wants to lick that birthmark on Liam’s neck.
Liam laughs. “I’m sure we can come up with something. Rock paper scissors?”
Most of the students look bewildered. One of the other things that Liam and Louis have in common is that they’re both Muggleborn; when they accidentally slip up and use a Muggle colloquialism, they don’t have to worry about the other giving them shit for it.
“Sure, best two out of three?” Louis offers.
Before Liam can respond, there’s a commotion among the Gryffindor ranks as one of the students shoves himself forward.
“Liam, mate, sorry I’m late. What’s all the–” Andy stops abruptly at Liam’s right shoulder as he takes in the group of Slytherins in front of him. “Tomlinson.”
“Samuels,” Louis spits, scowling. He’ll never understand how Liam counts this absolute arsehole among his friends, and he’ll especially never understand how the bloody hell Andy Samuels got sorted into Gryffindor. Both his parents were Gryffindors, sure, but it’s not like they managed to instill even a single shred of Gryffindor honor and decency into their son. Maybe he bribed the Sorting Hat.
Andy takes a few seconds to survey the situation. “Considering that Liam is the earliest riser I’ve ever known, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that we were here first. Run along now.”
“We were just about to–” Liam starts.
“Considering that you just got here, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you don’t know the first thing about what’s going on, love,” says Louis condescendingly.
“Rock paper scissors?” Liam tries.
“I was actually the first person on the pitch,” comes Jesy’s voice from the crowd of emerald and silver behind Louis. Louis smiles at Andy.
“Was talking about captains,” sneers Andy. “Let the big boys have their practice, Tomlinson, you and your friends can have your playdate later.”
Louis throws his head back with laughter. “Sorry, which house won the Quidditch Cup last year?”
“There’s no need to fight,” says Liam meekly, but he’s drowned out by the Slytherins’ cheers.
“It’s a new year,” says Andy. “And you lot won’t be able to walk straight after we’re done with you.”
“Andy-” Liam starts.
“I rather doubt that,” says Louis, rolling his eyes and smirking. “Why don’t you let us have the pitch for a few hours while you go try and find your dick?” Stan snickers behind him.
“Louis-” tries Liam.
“Or, you could let us have the pitch for a few hours, and if you’re just too desperate, I’m sure you can find something else to ride,” Andy grins filthily.
The air changes instantly.
Louis is up at Andy’s throat, wand out, before anybody can do so much as blink. He can hear Stan step up behind him, and Liam’s reached for his wand as well. Louis mildly regrets getting his friends involved, but this kind of crudeness can’t go unanswered and it happens much too often.
“Liking what I like doesn’t make me a bitch, Samuels,” he says lowly, “and you’d do well to remember that.”
Andy seems to be grappling for a response. Before he can return fire, the silence is broken by a new voice shouting, “What the devil is going on here?”
The group of students swiftly parts to reveal an extremely disheveled Professor Malfoy making his way over to them. He’s still wearing the clothes Louis saw him in yesterday, his normally gelled-back platinum blond hair is sticking up all over the place, and he smells strongly of Firewhiskey. Louis chooses not to comment on this, instead lowering his wand and raising his hands in both deference and greeting. “Morning, Professor.”
“Morning, Louis,” says Professor Malfoy. “Payne.”
Liam smiles. “Good morning, Professor!”
“Anybody want to explain this situation to me?” asks Malfoy.
“Oh, you know,” says Louis breezily, “nothing unusual. Liam and I trying to have civilized conversation, Samuels ruining it by making fun of my sexuality, me defending my honor. Standard Saturday morning, I’d say.”
“He fuckin’ started it–” exclaims Andy.
“Payne,” Malfoy cuts him off with a wave of his wand, “is this true?”
Liam looks torn between telling the truth and protecting his friend. Louis would, under most circumstances, lie through his teeth about things like this, but Liam is Liam, so he says, “Yes, Professor.” Andy shoots him a glare.
“My office, Samuels,” says Malfoy. “Why are all of you here, anyway? You should be in bed, the lot of you.”
“Louis and I both scheduled Quidditch tryouts for seven today,” Liam tells him.
“Merlin’s bollocks,” swears Malfoy. “Well, Gryffindor, thanks to your exceptionally tolerant teammate here, you’ll be taking the pitch second. Come back at ten.”
The Gryffindors turn and begin to shuffle away in a sea of red and gold, grumbling under their breath.
“You’re lucky I don’t deduct points!” Malfoy yells after them.
“Rough night, Professor?” Louis asks Malfoy. The two of them have been close ever since Louis’s second year when he professed his desire for a career in Potions.
However, they apparently aren’t this close. The corners of Malfoy’s mouth quirk up, but all he says is, “Don’t push your luck, Tomlinson,” and departs, dragging Andy with him.
Liam stays behind and leans in close to Louis. “Sorry about Andy, mate. He can be a right arsehole sometimes.”
Louis laughs. “Sometimes? S’alright, Liam, it happens all the time.”
Liam’s frown only deepens. “No, it’s not alright, Louis! You shouldn’t ever have to deal with that.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not gay,” shrugs Louis. He isn’t even particularly upset, given how used to teasing he is. It really only comes from two or three people, too – the large majority of Hogwarts students embrace Louis and other queer students with open arms.
Liam opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, then swiftly closes it. “Right. Well, I’ll see you around, I guess. Sorry again.”
“It’s nothing, really. See you around, mate!”
Liam waves goodbye and shuffles back toward the castle after his group of prospective teammates. Louis watches him go and ignores the way his shirt stretches across his wide shoulders and strong back. It’s whatever, he has tryouts to run. Who cares about Liam’s pert little bum, honestly?
xxx
Zayn is not and has never been a morning person. His idea of a perfect weekend includes sleeping in past noon on both Saturday and Sunday, doing some reading, maybe going into Hogsmeade, and drinking with his mates at night.
His idea of a perfect weekend does not include being woken up by Louis well before noon, but apparently his weekend is destined to be imperfect, because that’s exactly what happens.
“Zayn! Zaaaayn! Zaynie! Wake up!”
Zayn cracks open one eye a fraction of an amount, frowns, and closes it again.
“Zee! I know you’re awake! I saw you open your eyes! Well, eye, really, but–”
“Merlin, Lou, what time is it?”
There’s a pause. “Half-ten, I think. Let’s shower! I missed your shower, the ones in the locker rooms are like festering back alleys compared to yours–”
“It’s too early, Louis,” says Zayn, and turns over to face away from his entirely-too-perky friend.
“Fine,” Louis says, and Zayn can hear him pouting. “I’ll just go get all naked and soapy in your shower by myself, then. Enjoy your beauty sleep.”
He hears Louis pad over to the bathroom, shedding his Quidditch kit as he goes. Zayn frowns into his pillow; they’ve only been back for a week and the allure of Louis’s naked body is still too strong to resist. He supposes it will lessen with time, but for now Zayn just grumbles to himself, untangles his own naked self from the plush duvet, and gets up to follow after Louis, who has already turned the water on.
Zayn doesn’t get morning breath - his mouth is always fresh and clean, obviously. Even so, it doesn’t hurt to quickly brush his teeth by the sink before walking over to the shower and stepping inside. Louis is – Merlin, he’s all wet and tan and delicious looking, with rivulets of soapy shampoo running down his body. His eyes are squeezed shut as he holds his head under the spray of water, rinsing his hair clean.
“How was practice?” Zayn asks, reaching for the shampoo so he can wash his own hair.
“Tryouts,” Louis corrects him, wiping his eyes and reaching for the conditioner. “And it was alright, we didn’t lose too many seventh-years so there were only a couple of spots to fill. I know nobody’s technically guaranteed a spot, but none of the hopefuls were as good as the veterans.” He squeezes a palmful of conditioner into his hand. “Andy Samuels was being a dick, as usual, but then Professor Malfoy showed up and gave him shit for it – I’ve never seen him so disheveled, I expect he spent the night at the Three Broomsticks, that’s the only explanation for why he was stumbling back just after dawn…”
Zayn listens as Louis talks excitedly about his day, smiling at the fact that his own day so far has consisted solely of this shower.
“…oh, and you’ll never guess who got right fit over the summer.”
Zayn really can’t imagine anyone at Hogwarts fitter than Louis, Harry, or himself, so he sounds incredulous when he asks, “Who?”
“Well, you actually might’ve seen him already,” amends Louis, working the conditioner into his hair. “I could’ve been running into him all this past week, but fuck me if I didn’t recognize him!”
“I suppose I’m interested,” says Zayn.
“Liam Payne.”
Zayn snorts derisively. “Lou. He straightens his hair.”
“He cut it all off! Well, not all of it. It’s, um, it’s not really like a mohawk, he still has hair on the sides–”
“A fauxhawk,” says Zayn.
Louis stares at him. “Is that really what they’re called?”
“Yeah,” shrugs Zayn. “Anyway, so he cut his hair, big deal-”
“And he fucking grew so, like, he’s almost a head taller than me, and he has these ripped arms, right. I could barely talk to him without imagining him fucking me up against a wall.”
Zayn, who has himself fucked Louis against a wall multiple times, knows that this is something that really gets Louis going. He imagines a very flustered Louis trying to lead tryouts and act professional while half-hard, and it’s hot. “What would Liam have thought, hmm?” he asks, moving toward Louis and starting to corner him. “If he knew you got hard thinking about him?”
Louis gulps. “Never said I got hard,” he says, his voice just barely cracking.
“You had to stop yourself, though, didn’t you? Stop yourself from getting hard where everyone could see you?”
“Zayn,” Louis whines.
“Everyone would have known how much you wanted his cock,” murmurs Zayn, smirking at him. He and Louis both have a little bit of a thing for mild humiliation; Louis can go both ways, meaning that he sometimes loves being humiliated and sometimes loves doing it to others. Zayn’s favorite is when they both gang up on Harry, who gets off on being humiliated, and absolutely destroy him. “God, I can just see it, yeah? Your cock all hard in your trousers, rubbing against the broom–”
Louis’s breathing hitches and he just barely stops a little whimper from escaping. “Stop it,” he breathes, trying to regain his composure by dunking his head under the spray to rinse the conditioner out.
Once he’s all clean, though, Zayn pounces, pushing the smaller boy against the shower wall. “You wanna ride his cock, then? Bet he’d be able to lift you up and down on his dick if he’s as strong as you say he is.”
“Bet you wouldn’t,” says Louis, but there’s no fire behind it – Zayn can see how dilated his pupils are, how flushed his cheeks are – and not just from the heat of the shower.
“Bet I can still do this,” says Zayn, promptly dropping to his knees and taking Louis’s half-hard cock completely into his mouth. Louis groans above him and drops his head back, hitting the shower wall with a light thunk. Zayn loves this – he loves getting Harry or Louis hard in his mouth, loves feeling how the skin stays soft while the cock gets firmer, grows bigger as he sloppily tongues at it until he can’t fit all of it in his mouth. Then he has to actually work for it, sliding his mouth up and down Louis’s shaft and curling his tongue around the underside.
“Fuck, Zayn, yeah,” moans Louis. Zayn gets a hand on his own cock, starts pumping up and down to bring himself to full hardness. It’s not difficult, with all of the hot noises Louis is making and the taste of Louis overwhelming all of his senses. “You gonna fuck me?”
Zayn pulls off, letting his free hand take over and stroke Louis’s slick cock at the same pace his mouth had been moving. “Yeah, Lou, fuck, you know I want to.”
“Wanna ride you,” breathes Louis, gasping when Zayn goes back to using his mouth, sucking hard and going so far down he almost gags. When Louis starts pleading and pulling at Zayn’s hair, Zayn pulls off again and stands up, grabbing his favorite vanilla coconut body wash.
“We should finish showering first, though,” smirks Zayn. Louis just gapes at him, seemingly incapable of forming words or using his limbs. “Want me to get you clean, babe?”
“You’re a dick,” says Louis finally. He nods, though, and Zayn motions for him to turn around with a spin of his hands. Louis fondly rolls his eyes. “You’re so predictable, Zee.”
“I like what I like,” Zayn tells him. He squirts a good amount of body wash into his hands and smoothes it over Louis’s shoulders, massaging it into his skin. Louis shivers and moans, rolling his shoulders and trying to arch his back into Zayn’s touch. Zayn brings his hands lower, gathering some of the soapy lather from Louis’s shoulders and using it to slide his hands down into the dip of Louis’s spine. He kneads at the soft skin, drawing more moans from Louis before removing his hands to get some more body wash.
Zayn mouths at the juncture of Louis’s neck and shoulder while his soapy hands drift lower and lower still, eventually coming to rest in the dimples at the bottom of Louis’s back. He ghosts one finger over the crack of Louis’s bum, causing Louis to tense up then whine and push back, trying to get more contact.
“Zayn,” he sighs, making Zayn grin against his skin. Zayn slides one soapy hand between Louis’s arse cheeks and rubs over his hole while letting his other hand snake around and start playing with his balls, cupping them in his hand and rolling them with his fingers. Louis gasps, jerking forward and then back like he’s not sure which one of Zayn’s hands he wants to push into.
“Get on with it, Malik,” Louis chokes out, groaning when Zayn takes his slippery cock in hand and starts to jack him off. “Don’t want to come like this, fuck.”
“How d’you want to come?” Zayn murmurs, teasing at his hole some more. He never dips fully inside but always applies the barest amount of pressure, making Louis squeak.
“With you inside me,” says Louis predictably, trying to get one of Zayn’s fingers to actually push into him.
“Just my fingers?” asks Zayn, hand moving faster on Louis’s cock.
“God, no, your cock, Jesus, are you really gonna make me spell it out for you,” huffs Louis, but he’s losing all of his composure rapidly as Zayn keeps working his hands in focused movements.
Zayn takes his hand off Louis’s cock, causing the smaller boy to whine, but then Zayn turns him around and maneuvers him under the warm spray to rinse him off because Zayn, however much he likes to tease, is starting to get impatient himself. Zayn pays special attention to his arse, spreading his cheeks apart and playing with his hole to make sure all of the soap is gone.
“You think Liam would carry you to bed?” Zayn murmurs in his ear.
“Mmmm,” Louis hums, rocking forward and rubbing his hard cock against Zayn’s thigh.
Zayn chuckles at the desperation in Louis’s voice, then reaches around him and shuts the water off. He grabs two handfuls of Louis’s bum and squeezes appreciatively before bending his knees for leverage and then straightening them, lifting Louis up with him.
Louis yelps and snakes his hands around Zayn’s neck and his legs around his waist, clinging tightly. His hard cock is trapped in between them and he whimpers, rutting up against Zayn in jerky movements.
“You’re going to drop me,” Louis pants between thrusts.
“Ant and I started going to a Muggle gym over the summer,” Zayn tells him as he navigates his way into the bedroom. “Don’t tell my parents.”
Louis groans and sucks a bruise into the soft skin of Zayn’s neck, making Zayn hiss. “You’re so hot,” he pants, sighing gratefully as Zayn drops him onto the giant bed.
Zayn grins back at him, stretching over him to reach under one of the pillows for his wand. He only needs to just get his fingers around it before he’s non-verbally Summoning a bottle of lube, which flies out of his trunk and into his outstretched hand.
“Show-off,” says Louis, grinning at him.
“You think it’s hot,” retorts Zayn. He flips open the cap and squeezes a generous amount of slick onto his fingers.
Louis reaches up and grips the back of Zayn’s neck, bringing him down into a bruising kiss. Their tongues clash together, twining around each other as Zayn licks into Louis’s mouth with a low groan. Louis’s mouth is hot and wet and tastes like the cinnamon gum he’s so fond of chewing after Quidditch.
Zayn brings one of his wet fingers up and runs it between Louis’s legs, slicking up all around his hole, behind his balls. He pulls off of Louis’s mouth with a filthy sound and says, “You get a good look at Liam’s hands, Lou?”
Louis whimpers and shakes his head as Zayn strokes his perineum.
“Bet his fingers are huge,” says Zayn. He actually still has no idea what Liam looks like after his apparent “transformation,” but he’s becoming awfully fond of the picture he’s painting for Louis as he slides a single finger inside him. Louis groans and bears down, spreading his legs wide. “Fill you up so good.”
“Stop,” pants Louis, fucking down on Zayn’s finger and giving no indication that he wants him to stop. “I won’t ever be able to – ahh, to look him in the eye again, fuck.”
Zayn grins mischievously and adds another finger to the tight clench of Louis’s hole. Louis moans and writhes around, throwing his head back and exposing the line of his neck. His still-wet hair is sticking up around his face in soft spikes and drops of water cling enticingly to his chest and around his nipples.
“He sounds pretty strong,” Zayn continues, ignoring Louis’s pleas. “Would bang you so hard with his fingers, I bet.” He speeds up the motions of his hands, driving his fingers into Louis faster and faster, making filthy sounds with how much lube he’s using.
“Inside me,” gasps Louis, clenching his hands in the bedsheets. “Inside me now.”
“I am inside you, babes,” taunts Zayn, getting ready to add another finger. Before he can, though, Louis makes a sharp, displeased noise and surges up to wrap his arms around Zayn, catching Zayn by surprise and flipping them both over. Louis reaches for the discarded bottle of lube and squeezes more out, quickly smoothing it up and down Zayn’s cock and making Zayn hiss at the cold, but before he can admonish Louis, the smaller boy is lining himself up and sinking down, inch by blissful inch, to envelop Zayn’s cock.
“C-couldn’t wait, could you,” Zayn gasps out, his brain ceasing all higher functioning as his dick is surrounded by tight, tight heat.
“Shut up,” breathes Louis, stopping halfway down and trying to let his body adjust. He’s not very patient, though, not seeming content until he’s fully seated and his plump arse cheeks are resting on Zayn’s upper thighs. “Don’t you ever shut up?”
“You love it,” says Zayn, rolling his hips and shifting himself inside Louis. Louis whimpers and bends down, their mouths meeting as their lips slide together. Soon, though, Louis detaches himself, leaning back so he can start to move in earnest. Zayn knows that Louis loves being on top, loves having at least the illusion that he’s in control. It works out really well for Zayn, too, who gets to lean back and watch greedily as Louis fucks himself down, making little whimpering noises every time the thick cock inside him rubs him just right.
Both of them have lost their words – for a while the only noise in the room besides their quiet moans and gasps is the sharp sound of Louis’s arse slapping down on Zayn’s hips. Zayn has a loose grip on Louis’s hips, not enough to move him but enough to guide him. He rubs his thumbs up and down Louis’s sides reverently as Louis takes him deep inside again and again, rolling his hips filthily.
Eventually, though, Zayn thinks that Louis looks a bit too sure of himself, so he grips him a bit tighter and says, “C’n you imagine – what Liam would, mmm, what he’d think of you – right now?”
Louis moans loudly, faltering in his rhythm. Zayn takes advantage of his distraction and plants his feet firmly on the bed for leverage, starting to fuck up into Louis’s pliant body. Zayn continues, “He’d think you a slut, wouldn’t he, Lou?”
“M’not a slut,” Louis pouts, arching his back to get Zayn deeper. His thighs are shaking with exertion and Zayn digs his fingers in harder – he’s probably going to leave bruises, which is totally more than okay.
“You’re fucking gagging for it,” Zayn grits out, starting to thrust harder to match the rhythm of Louis riding him. He thinks he might also get bruises on his hipbones, fuck. “Bouncing on my cock, shit, thinking about someone else–”
Out of the corner of his eye, Zayn catches a blur of movement and notices that Harry has just let himself in. Harry takes one look at them and swallows heavily, palming the front of his trousers.
“Fuck – shit – oh my god,” Louis whines, starting to lean forward. Zayn knows Louis is close because his hole has started to clench and spasm just the tiniest bit. Louis doesn’t seem to have noticed Harry yet.
“Bet his dick is fucking huge,” says Zayn, feeling himself start to get close as well. He smirks at Harry and takes hold of Louis’s desperately hard cock, rubbing his fingers around the tip where precome has been beading up. Louis squeaks and jolts, hands coming up to brace themselves on his thighs.
“Yeah, oh, fuck, yeah–” Louis chokes out, digging his nails into his own skin. “Gonna come soon, Zee–”
“Know you are, babe,” says Zayn, using Louis’s precome as slick to start jerking him off. “So – fuck – pretty when you come.”
Zayn tears his eyes away from Louis’s full, hard cock to see that Harry has taken his own prick out of his trousers and is lazily starting to stroke himself to hardness while watching the scene before him. There’s an oddly piercing, intense look in his eyes, and when Zayn meets them with his own, he feels an inexplicable little thrill of fear zing down his spine and into where his body is joined with Louis’s. He shifts his gaze back at Louis, whose eyes are tightly shut, and wants to push him over the edge.
“Hello, Harry,” Zayn says, as casually as he possibly can given that he’s rapidly approaching his own orgasm.
Louis’s eyes snap open and he gasps, whipping his head around to find Harry slowly stroking his big cock and watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Zayn feels Louis’s body clench around him even more and knows that he’s just about to come.
“Harry, oh – oh my god, fuck, Harry–” Louis cries out, and then he’s coming, all of his muscles going tense at once, his back arching beautifully as he spurts all over Zayn’s hand and stomach. His hole goes vice-tight around Zayn’s cock, and Zayn just barely manages to fuck Louis through his orgasm before he’s coming as well, releasing into the delicious warmth of Louis’s body with a deep groan.
Zayn’s head goes pleasantly fuzzy for a few moments, although he does register Louis collapsing on top of him with a little whimper. When he comes back to himself, he tries to ease himself out of Louis’s fucked-out hole as gently as possible, although Louis still makes an unhappy noise at the action.
“When did you get here, Haz?” Louis finally asks, having regained his ability to speak but not, apparently, his ability to move, as he lays firmly slumped on top of Zayn, face-down on his chest. Zayn straightens out his legs and lets his feet dangle off the edge of the bed, relaxing his legs after having bent them for so long.
“Got here when Zayn was talking about someone else’s prick,” says Harry, taking his trousers off, and, oh, that’s jealousy Zayn hears, isn’t it? Harry’s brows are furrowed just slightly, and there’s something very deliberate and tightly controlled in the way he’s stripping his clothes off, like some sort of calm before a storm, like he’s a bomb about to go off at any moment. Zayn is suddenly possessed by the ridiculous urge to scramble out from underneath Louis and as get far away as possible from the impending explosion. Unfortunately, an entirely unsuspecting Louis is still collapsed on top of him, rendering escape impossible, and so Zayn can only watch as Harry stalks toward them, completely nude and completely dangerous.
It’s not often that Harry gets in this sort of mood – out of the three of them, he’s definitely the most submissive – but when he does, Merlin pity whoever ends up being the subject of his attention (or, really, Merlin pity their arse).
Still oblivious, Louis says, “Oh, right, I was just telling Zayn how fit Liam Payne’s gotten.”
Harry quirks a brow and his eyes glint dangerously. Zayn feels a little thrill of terror run through him. “Yeah? How’s he look?” asks Harry softly.
This is an odd question from Harry – even when he’s not about to unleash a bout of sexual fury, he’s always a bit possessive and jealous. Even Louis picks up on the strangeness, now. “Um – um? Well, he’s gotten taller…”
As Louis continues to tentatively describe Liam, he sighs happily as Harry gets close enough to them to stroke a gentle finger down his spine. The fact that Harry is being this gentle is making Zayn well and truly terrified for Louis’s safety.
“…could probably pick me up…” Louis is continuing, rambling on.
Zayn sees Harry bring one leg up to half-kneel at the foot of the bed and sucks in a sharp breath when he thinks about what Harry might be planning on doing.
“Zayn and I can both pick you up,” murmurs Harry, thumbing at the dimples at the bottom of Louis’s spine.
Louis gives a little laugh. “Yeah, but you should see his arms–” He cuts off abruptly with a sudden, powerful intake of air, though, because Harry has lowered his mouth and begun to lick around the rim of Louis’s hole. “Ohmygod–”
Harry brings his big hands up to spread Louis’s arse cheeks apart, licking in deeper and making sloppy sucking sounds as he tongues at the other boy’s entrance. Zayn can’t quite see everything, but he can feel the way Louis has gone rigid above him, clinging onto Zayn’s sides tightly and trying to muffle his little helpless noises in Zayn’s chest.
It’s only as involuntary tears of pleasure start leaking from Louis’s eyes and wetting Zayn’s chest that Zayn remembers –
“Harry, that’s filthy,” he gasps, scandalized, as Harry licks Zayn’s come out of Louis.
Harry makes a noncommittal noise of agreement into Louis’s hole, then does something with his tongue that makes Louis wail. Not knowing what else to do, Zayn makes gentle shushing noises and reaches up with one hand to pet soothingly at Louis’s hair. It’s dirty, and it’s fucking hot, the way Harry goes at it, holding nothing back – Zayn would be getting hard, under other circumstances, but he’s literally just fucked Louis, so. Plus, on top of that, he thinks that he might actually be too scared to get hard again, his body too in shock at Harry’s dark mood to even consider directing blood into his dick.
But then Zayn can feel Louis getting hard against him, sobbing as his oversensitive cock fills up again because of how relentlessly Harry’s licking into him, and maybe – yeah, maybe it’s not impossible for Zayn to consider getting hard again.
“Har – ry, Harry, god–” Louis can barely get the words out he’s so overwhelmed. Zayn can feel him trying to struggle, trying to squirm away, but Louis is sandwiched between the other two boys, held doubly fast by Harry’s strong arms.
Harry pulls off with a sloppy sucking sound and brings one finger up, circling around Louis’s hole. He watches, mesmerized, as it sinks right in, wet with come, lube, and spit, and Zayn can’t quite see it happening but he can hear it.
Zayn can sense that Louis is torn between pleading with Harry to stop and demanding that he continue, sobbing out, “Too much, Harry, st- fuck, oh fuck–”
“Oh, so we’re thinking about me, now?” asks Harry, voice impossibly low, fucking Louis deep with his long finger. He brings up another one, spits on it for good measure, and then he’s sliding the second one in alongside the first with a filthy squelching sound. Harry leans down again, tongues all around the rim, all around where his fingers are stretching Louis out, and Louis positively wails.
“Hold him still, Zayn,” says Harry. Louis has started shakimg, his thighs trembling as Harry eats him out. Zayn tries to pet at Louis’s sides, stroke over his bum in what’s intended to be a comforting manner, but it makes Louis moan and thrash even harder, and Zayn ends up having to grip him tightly to stop him from injuring any of them.
Harry does something with his fingers that makes Louis cry out and rut against Zayn, his cock now fully hard again and starting to dribble precome. It slides against Zayn’s own dick, and Merlin it’s good, slick and warm, so much so that Zayn’s well on his way to being completely hard. Of course, he’s not recovering as fast as Louis is, but that might have something to do with the fact that Zayn isn’t getting eaten out, nor is his prostate being relentlessly stimulated by Harry’s long, knowing fingers.
Louis seems to have lost his ability to speak and is now whimpering and biting at Zayn’s chest to keep quiet. Zayn can already see a few bruises forming from where Louis has bitten down, and it hurts, but the pain only amplifies how good all of this is, how wild it is –
“’s he hard?” Harry says. It takes Zayn several seconds to realize that Harry is speaking to him; he’s up to three fingers now, thrusting them hard and fast.
Zayn reaches down between himself and Louis and takes both of their cocks in hand, groaning at how good it feels. “Yeah, he is.”
Harry grins at him over Louis’s head, a dark, feral smile that twists at Zayn’s insides. Louis squeaks as Harry moves his fingers even faster, so fast that they’re almost a blur.
“Of – bloody – well – course – ’m hard – Jesus –” he sobs out, making Harry’s grin widen.
Harry slaps him lightly on the bum happily and says, “Budge up,” to Zayn. Zayn scoots backward on the bed, taking Louis with him, his hand still around both of their cocks. Harry pulls his fingers out and wraps that same hand around his own cock, so hard it’s turning a dark red. He slicks it up as much as he can, but Louis’s arse is so wet that Zayn doesn’t think Harry’s going to need much more lube.
Zayn watches as Harry lines up the head of his cock with Louis’s puffy hole, circling it around his entrance a couple of times before starting to push in. It’s obscene, frankly, how the rim of Louis’s hole stretches, wider and wider, until finally the thick head pops all the way in. Harry stays that way, circling his hips a little and making Louis whine. “Anyone want to talk about Liam Payne’s cock?” he asks conversationally, his voice only a little bit strained.
Louis’s only response is a sob and a shake of the head as Harry pushes in another inch.
“You play dirty,” Zayn says to Harry. Harry laughs and lowers his head to kiss him, leaning his body over Louis’s to join their mouths together. Harry’s lips are warm and Zayn can taste his own come on them, which should be disgusting but instead just makes him hotter all over than he already is. Zayn squeezes his hand a little tighter around himself and Louis, groaning into Harry’s mouth.
Between them, Louis whines and bucks his hips, making both of the other boys hiss. Harry bites at Zayn’s lower lip and then pulls off, pushing himself the rest of the way inside Louis. “You want a kiss too, babe?” he asks, rolling his hips and making Louis gasp.
Zayn can tell that Louis really, really doesn’t want to indulge Harry but also really, really wants his attention. Finally, Louis nods, and Harry grips Louis’s chin and tilts his head to the side, mashing their lips together as he pulls out and thrusts back in. Zayn’s legs are starting to go a little bit numb from the weight of the two boys on top of him but it’s so, so worth it – his dick is so, so sensitive, and the sweet friction of Louis’s shaft on his own is driving him closer and closer to the edge. He also feels – weird, kind of weird, like Louis and Harry are working out their own little power struggle in front of him – he almost feels left out, even though they’re literally having sex right on top of him –
And then Louis is breaking apart from Harry’s mouth and leaning down to sloppily kiss Zayn, their tongues clashing desperately, and Harry’s grinning at both of them breathlessly as he fucks into Louis harder.
“You’re so – hot together,” he pants out, leaning down to bite at the back of Louis’s neck. Zayn normally closes his eyes when he kisses, but he doesn’t want to miss a second of this, of how Harry’s lips close around a soft patch of skin and how he sucks, hard, causing Louis to whimper into Zayn’s mouth.
Then Harry leans up a bit, which changes the angle and has Louis pulling off of Zayn’s mouth with a sharp intake of air. Harry laughs breathlessly, wipes some sweat off of his brow, and then really goes at it, taking hold of Louis’s hips with both hands and thrusting fast.
Louis goes absolutely wild, shaking and crying out loudly every time Harry bottoms out, digging his nails into Zayn’s skin, and then – then he falls silent for a few seconds, and Zayn’s almost sure Louis is going to tell Harry to stop, tell Harry to pull out and get on his back so that Louis can take control again, but – no, fuck, he’s coming instead, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in Zayn’s neck as his cock spurts weakly between their bodies. Louis doesn’t make any noise, just shivers and convulses noiselessly until his orgasm’s almost finished, and even then he just chokes out one harsh sob and goes completely limp.
Louis’s hot come slicks the glide of Zayn’s cock against his and makes it feel so much better for Zayn, who starts rutting his hips up to get more friction. Louis squirms and groans, and Zayn knows he must be so sensitive – he’s already come twice, and Harry’s still pounding his arse while Zayn frots up against him from below, and it must almost hurt –
Shit, Zayn’s gone, cock twitching as he groans and adds to the mess between their stomachs, and Godric, this is the best Saturday ever, he’s literally done nothing all day except sleep and have fantastic sex. He hears Harry swearing above them as Zayn pulls Louis in for a desperate, exhausted kiss, feels Harry slow down and grind in deep, knows he’s coming too from the low moan that rumbles from his chest.
As Harry’s coming down from his orgasm, he makes a displeased noise and pulls Louis’s mouth away from Zayn’s, replacing it with his own. Louis all but melts into him, shoulders sagging as Harry fucks his mouth with his tongue, and – oh, Zayn’s legs are actually asleep, brilliant.
“Get off,” he grunts, shoving weakly at the two boys on top of him.
Harry and Louis break apart. “Just did,” says Harry with a smirk, but he rolls off of Zayn just the same, taking Louis with him. They end up spooning, still connected between their legs, and Louis reaches out with both arms for Zayn. He looks so pitiful and fucked out that Zayn can’t resist giving him a cuddle.
They’re all quiet for a bit, letting their breathing even out, and then Louis says, “There’re some days when it makes absolutely no sense that you were sorted into Slytherin, and some days when I realize how spot on the Sorting Hat really was.”
Harry snorts. “What, ’cause I’m good in bed?”
“Fuckin’ ruthless,” says Zayn, making Louis giggle. “I was scared for m’life for a bit, there, and I wasn’t even the one getting rimmed.”
Louis shivers and Harry looks pleased, stroking up and down his arm.
“You’re a menace, Styles,” Louis says fondly.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” asks Harry, frowning suddenly, and he looks suddenly younger, like the naïve fourteen-year-old Harry that Zayn had first met. Well, Harry didn’t have his cock up Louis’s arse when they first met, but. His face is similar, is the point.
Louis shakes his head. Harry’s frown lessens, but the worry lines between his eyebrows remains. “You’ll tell me if I do, ever? Won’t you, Lou?”
“Course I will,” says Louis. “Right now, my arse isn’t, like, extremely happy with you, but it’s nothing that one of Zayn’s Healing spells can’t fix.”
Zayn groans. “You know I can teach you how to do it yourself–”
“You tried teaching me, remember? On the first try I ended up spraying myself in the bum with orange marmalade, which certainly didn’t make it feel any better–”
“How’re you going to make a proper Healer if you can’t even get a Soothing Spell right?” asks Zayn, drowned out as Harry bursts into laughter.
“I’m sure the spells will come with practice,” says Louis, bopping Zayn on the nose. “I just don’t much fancy trying it on myself again, thanks.”
“D’you maybe fancy a nap? I’m exhausted,” says Harry.
“Me too,” says Zayn. “We’re in my bed, I vote nap.”
“Seriously?” asks Louis. “I got up hours earlier than either of you! How are you tired already?”
“Fucking you was exhausting,” Zayn tells him.
“’Specially when you wouldn’t stay still,” adds Harry.
Louis blushes but still tries to look annoyed. “Fine. But you aren’t sleeping inside me,” he snaps at Harry, who pouts but reaches down to ease himself carefully out of Louis.
Zayn reaches down to pull the covers up over the three of them, and then he’s back where he started the day, really, just with two really great orgasms under his belt and two additional boys in his bed and an intense desire to see what Liam Payne looks like now. After all, it was all that talk about Liam that started this whole thing today. Yeah, Zayn definitely has to see what all the fuss is about, but Liam isn’t going anywhere just yet, and Zayn’s bed is just too comfortable to even consider leaving it for another couple of hours. He closes his eyes and falls back asleep to the sound of Louis and Harry’s gentle breathing.