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Today is Harry’s 29th. Maybe one of the most exciting days of his life, to be honest. He and the boys decided to not shoot a video, because he wants to have a real birthday. One without cameras and challenges. He also chose to have it at a local venue — aka, Harry’s house. Everyone was able to make it, along with both Cals, and James and Will. It’s pretty fucking exciting.
Oh, and Harry gets to be tipsy. Best part about it all.
Worst part? Tobi looks fucking good. And Harry…may just fancy him. Just a little bit (a lot).
Harry will admit to flirting. A little bit. Because since he’s tipsy, he can get away with it more. Tobi…doesn’t seem to hate it. That’s why he’s sat next to Tobi with a lazy, wanting smirk. Tobi’s looking at him like he’s something.
So he’s going to make a mistake.
“Wanna go to my bedroom with me, Tobi?” He asks, voice low and hopefully seductive. It's almost like Tobi double takes. He wishes he could see the flush that might be there on his face. “Are you — Harry. Are you drunk?” Tobi asks, eyes narrowing as if he can’t believe what Harry might be insinuating. “Jus’ tipsy.” Harry says back, grinning. He watches Tobi swallows, looking away. “Fuck it.” Tobi mutters.
They get up, and Harry leads him to his bedroom — lights off. He shuts the door, ready to grab Tobi by the wrist when suddenly his back is against the door. Oh. That’s not at all how he expected this to go. But he’s not complaining one fucking bit. Harry slides down the door a little bit, so Tobi can have height over him. One of Tobi’s hands finds Harry’s hip and then they are kissing. Harry sighs into the kiss. He’s wanted this forever, and Tobi’s lips on his makes him want more.
The kiss is filthy and so hungry. When they pull apart, it’s only for air. Harry doesn’t know where to place his hands, so they end up on Tobi’s shoulders.
Tobi tastes like the apple juice he drank earlier, and something else sweet. Tobi’s sweet. Harry’s always preferred alcohol but he’s sure he could get drunk off Tobi. So, when Tobi pulls back, lips just as kiss bitten as Harry’s own he can’t help but whine at the loss of contact. He knows it’s pathetic but fucking hell, any loss of contact between them seems like the end of the world.
Tobi’s eyes widen slightly — but it’s enough that’s noticeable. It’s enough that Harry finds he likes that expression. He likes the way Tobi’s eyes analyze him, almost scrutinize him.
Tobi swallows, and then he’s kissing Harry’s jaw. Fucking hell. Tobi’s good at this for a straight guy. Harry’s gasping, begging for anything more.
The hands at Harry’s waist drift under his hoodie and finally touch Harry’s bare skin.
Harry’s far too warm, and Tobi’s hands are just as hot. But Tobi’s fingers drifting on his sides and around his waist have him keening.
Tobi pulls back from mouthing at Harry’s jaw so he can tug on Harry’s hoodie — asking. That’s all Tobi does, ask and never fucking take. But, Tobi could take whatever he wanted from Harry and he wouldn’t complain.
Harry nods, and it’s desperate. Tobi’s hands grin the hem of his hoodie and tug it over his head.
Harry’s only shirtless in front of him, and he’s never felt more exposed. More vulnerable. So he needs to return the favor. He grabs the hem of Tobi’s shirt, eyes locking briefly because he needs to know. Needs to know if it’s alright, if they’re really doing whatever they end up doing.
When Tobi’s shirt comes off, Harry goes breathless. He’s seen him shirtless before, yes, but never like this.
Tobi has a great body. Or, maybe Harry’s biased. But whatever the case, Harry feels lucky.
Tobi reconnects their lips with a sense of urgency, and one of his hands braces firmly against Harry’s lower back. Harry thinks that’s almost what does him in — hell, he’s already half-hard, but god.
They end up on the bed. Tobi sitting in the center, and Harry straddling him.
It’s a lot easier to kiss Tobi this way. A lot easier to be looked up at and a hell of a lot easier to grind down.
He finds that Tobi is very touchy. Well, he guesses that it checks out since they are making out, but whatever.
“…You’re so good, Harry.” Tobi says, voice low and almost hoarse, like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. Like Harry’s been teasing him.
Harry didn’t expect him to say that. Worse, he didn’t expect all of his blood to run south.
Fucking hell.
He doesn’t reply. It’s not just that he doesn’t trust himself, but he doesn’t know how. Doesn’t know what to say besides please or something else entirely degrading that exposes his want.
Harry’s kissing Tobi's neck now, desperate to regain a small shred of control. Tobi’s not loud when Harry bites, just giving small gasps and almost-whines that send Harry over the edge.
He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone as much as he wants Tobi right now.
When Harry’s finally done trying to feel like he’s done something, he and Tobi are kissing again. Just as wanton as before and just as fucking filthy.
He thinks he can guess how this night might go.
When they fuck, it’s not gentle. It’s not love, and Harry didn’t want it to be. He knows he can’t have Tobi, and nothing can change that so he’ll take whatever they shared tonight.
The worst part about it all is that Harry now knows what Tobi sounds like when he comes.
When he’s telling Harry to listen.
When he’s praising him.
That Tobi talks you through it.
That Tobi likes when he whines.
But it’s an illusion for the night that Harry’s the only one Tobi’ll ever have. So, he knows that Tobi saying his name was only because he was there. Only because he was the one Tobi was fucking tonight.
It’ll mean nothing in the morning and he’ll be nothing but Tobi’s friend in the morning. And that’s fine, and he lives with it now except he knows what others don’t know about Tobi. Knows what he’s missing and that might slowly kill him.
But he’s not surprised when he wakes up the day after his birthday and Tobi isn’t in his bed.
And he’s even less surprised when he and Tobi act like nothing happened.
Cause the only person anything happened for is Harry.
He just knows what he’s missing now.