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Harry doesn't hear when she asks the question. With his eyes fixed on the pastel clouds of fluffy pink buttercream, his mind is already wandering off to this evening's celebration.
"S'perfect, love." Louis' voice cuts through the dreamy haze of his daydream, bringing him back to the present.
Harry pulls his eyes from the cake, acknowledging the bubbly woman behind the counter. "Almost looks too beautiful to eat," he says. Can't wait for Louis to taste it, he thinks.
The woman smiles,blushing a bit at their compliments. "I'll get it boxed up for you." She takes the cake and disappears behind a door at the back of the tiny bakery.
While they wait for her to return, Louis wraps an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him in and placing a soft kiss into the curls at the top of his head. "Happy Birthday, baby."
"Thank you, Lou." Harry nuzzles further into his husband's side, pressing a kiss into the side of his neck. "I'm so excited for tonight. My skin's been tingling all day. The anticipation, you know? It's just… I don't know, I just can't wait."
"Patience," Louis warns, rubbing a comforting palm between Harry's shoulder blades. It's more of a gentle reminder than a command but Harry still has to fight his inner brat to keep himself from pouting in response because it's his birthday and he doesn't want to wait any longer!
"Zayn's texted me a little while ago. Been a buzz around the club all week, he says. Ever since they put up the invitations to your party. Says he's got the big playroom all set up for us." Louis continues stroking his back. "And you're not the only one who's excited, you know. Might be your birthday wish but it feels like I'm the one gettin' presents."
Harry preens at Louis' words. Knowing that his husband is just as into this whole thing as he is himself—hearing him refer to it as a present—it makes everything even more special. They've done dozens of scenes together over the years and several of those scenes have included audiences, but they've never done anything quite like this. He loves that they'll be able to share this experience together. "I hope people will actually show up." Harry worries his bottom lip between his finger and thumb.
"Baby," Louis carefully removes Harry's fingers from where they were pinching his lip. "Are you kiddin' me? People are gonna be lining up to celebrate your birthday with you. Bet the room's gonna be packed. Everyone's gonna wanna participate."
The tingling under Harry's skin begins to spark. He can't remember a time, save for maybe his wedding day, that's he's been so frenzied, so jittery. Before he can start to spiral though, Louis is already moving in to ground him. While his right hand continues rubbing Harry's upper back, Louis captures both of Harry's wrists with his left hand, applying just a bit of pressure. Two light squeezes. A reminder. I've got you. Harry releases a shaky breath, ridding himself of some of the anxious energy and melting into his husband's hold.
The baker returns, presenting them with the boxed up cake, adorned with an elegantly-tied light pink ribbon. "All set!" She smiles, handing the box to Harry. God, if this poor, innocent woman only knew what they plan to do with her cake.
***
Zayn, being the best mate and seasoned dungeon monitor that he is, has already gone through the checklist with all of the party attendees when Louis and Harry arrive at the club. He's introduced the scene that they've planned and reviewed the colour system once more. And after confirming that everyone understood the boundaries set by the couple, he invited anyone interested in participating in the scene to join him at the front of the room near the stage so they could meet with the birthday boy.
Before Zayn brings them over to the group gathered near the stage, he checks in privately with Harry and Louis once more to make sure they're both still green for the scene. Buzzing with anticipation, Harry enthusiastically nods his head in agreement.
"I know you're excited but," Louis softly strokes his thumb over the back of Harry's hand where they're clasped together. "You've gotta use your words, baby."
"Green!" The answer is out of his mouth before Louis is finished speaking. "So green."
"I'm green too," Louis smiles.
With an affirmative nod, Zayn continues, "Alright, and just to confirm, you both still want me to join you up on the stage, like we discussed?" Both men agree. "This is gonna be a fuckin' fun night, lads. Messy, but fun."
With each step they take, Harry's smile grows a little wider as Zayn leads the pair over to the group of people waiting for them at the front of room. "For those of you who don't already know him, this is Harry," he slings an arm around his friend's shoulders, tugging him over to stand front and centre so he can introduce him. "The birthday boy," he announces, spinning Harry around to showcase those same words embroidered onto the back of his silky robe.
Turning back around, with his dimples popped and teeth prominently on display, Harry grins, greeting his party guests with a small wave. "S'nice to meet you all. Thank you for coming to my party." Charmed, the crowd responds with a chorus of birthday wishes and gratitude.
"And this is his husband, Louis," Zayn adds, pulling him into the mix. Louis gives a polite nod, smiling graciously in response to the warm welcome from the group.
The couple isn't new to public play. As exhibitionists, they've done many public scenes, most of them right here in the very club they're standing in now. However, this will be the first time that they've invited anyone else to participate in this kind of capacity. Welcoming party-goers to take an active role in the scene versus passively watching from the audience was an idea that Harry had first proposed to Louis one night while discussing how he'd like to celebrate his upcoming birthday. It began as a fantasy. Harry has never been shy when it comes to talking about the things that turn him on, often using it as a form of foreplay, so when Louis had asked him what he wanted for his birthday, Harry didn't hesitate to share his ultimate birthday wish. He shouldn't have been surprised when Louis found a way to grant him that wish.
Standing here in the club, surrounded by a group of people who will soon be watching him up on the stage, on full display, as Louis indulges him in his birthday fantasy, is driving Harry mad with anticipation. He's been on edge all day just thinking about it, fighting the urge to masturbate since he woke up this morning. He wants to be good for Louis though. His husband made it clear that Harry couldn't touch himself until his party had begun and even then, he'd given Harry an enticing incentive to stave off his release for as long as he could. If Harry can outlast both Louis and Zayn, he'll be allowed to finish on both men. Painting them with the physical manifestation of his pleasure. On a stage. In front of everyone. Fuck. How is he going to last? With a deep inhale, Harry tries his best to clear his mind and ignore the steady ache that's been building low in his groin all day.
Zayn cuts through Harry's thoughts, addressing the group gathered before them, "Let's get this party started, shall we?"
"Fucking finally!" Harry cheers.
Louis guides him up to the stage to take his place while Zayn ensures that the party participants are all seated up front along the edge of the stage. It's important that they have a clear view of Harry, Louis and Zayn up on the stage, but for Harry, it's just as crucial that's he's able to watch the audience watching them. It's for that specific reason that he had insisted on positioning the floor-length mirror at the head of the spanking bench that he'll be posed on for most of the scene.
Untying his robe, Harry stands at the front of the stage for one final announcement before they begin. "Thank you all so much for coming to my epic watch and wank birthday beat-off bash." The room erupts in laughter and cheers, all the while Harry basks in the attention, glowing under the gaze of the crowd.
"As the name suggests, you are all encouraged to both watch and wank." Always the showman, he grins, pausing to allow time for the crowd to react to his words. He lives to entertain and loves being able to make an audience laugh, especially while he's standing in front of them in nothing more than a slinky robe and his birthday suit, all eyes trained on him.
"My one request is that you keep your hands to yourself. No touching anyone else's junk! Otherwise, I might get jealous," he giggles but that doesn't negate the honesty of the statement. "For my special guests of honour here in the front row," he narrows his eyes to those closest to him. "I know Zayn already went over the… gift policy," Harry winks. "But I'll just reiterate. You'll only be allowed to share your gift with me if I can't hold out and end up coming before you do. If you come first, keep it to yourself! And lastly," he continues, holding up one finger and addressing the entire room once more. "Did everyone get their party favour from Lou and I?" Harry pulls a small bottle of birthday cake flavoured lube from the pocket of his robe, holding it up to the crowd. "Okay, good. Use it liberally, yeah? We don't want any chafing tonight. Now, who's ready for the cake?"
Right on cue, Louis emerges with the birthday cake that Harry picked out earlier in the day. He sets it down on a stool to the left of the spanking bench and gestures for his husband to come over. "Gotta give you your birthday spankings first, love." He winks, giving Harry's arse cheek a playful pinch. "Then we'll enjoy the cake," Louis finishes. Harry eagerly slips out of his robe, the silky pink material sliding off his shoulders and pooling on the floor at his feet. He folds it up neatly, placing it carefully aside before he hurries to climb onto the bench.
Completely naked and lying face down on the bench, Harry is exhilarated. He's bent over and completely exposed, naked arse up in the air on full display in front of the audience. Louis sidles up to the bench beside him and with a delicate touch, he traces a lazy line starting at the base of Harry's neck, meandering down to his lower back. A sudden shiver races up his spine in anticipation of what's to come. Goosebumps begin to bloom across the bare skin along his thighs, quickly spreading upwards over his arse and along the sensitive skin stretched across his ribs, sprouting up over every inch of Harry's unclothed body until he's completely covered in the tiny dots.
"Most beautiful birthday boy," Louis murmurs, voice low and just for Harry. When Zayn appears in Harry's periphery on his other side, Louis raises his voice and addresses the room at large. "So, as you know, Harry here is celebrating his twenty-seventh birthday today," he waits while several people in the crowd cheer and clap. "Which means I get to give him twenty-seven spankings." He smirks, rubbing his hands together like he's preparing for the task. It's not unlike the way a musician might play a few stray notes on their instrument before settling in and beginning a song. "And as much as I love taking my time with him, and as much as I love marking this perfect little arse," Louis reaches out, grabbing a fleshy handful of Harry's bum and jiggling it. "Tonight we're gonna speed things up. Just a little bit. Zayn's gonna help me and we're gonna take turns."
"Help us count 'em out, yeah?" Zayn adds.
Feeling frenzied with anxious excitement, Harry closes his eyes, taking a moment to steady himself before they begin. His heart is still racing when Louis' open palm makes its first sharp contact with the exposed skin on his backside. The familiar sting sending a surge of dopamine coursing through his body in response. Before he's able to recover from the first one, Zayn's hand lands on his other cheek. Then it's Louis again. Back and forth, unrelenting. Harry can feel his skin starting to heat, growing red under the repetitive contact. Each smack leaving behind the warm ache that drives Harry mad. The more sensitive his skin gets, the louder his moans grow.
The two men continue taking turns, spanking him in rapid succession, while the room counts. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. For the first time since he was a teenager, Harry finds himself wishing he were older. He doesn't want this moment to be over so soon. He wiggles and squirms a bit, the brat in him hoping it might earn him some extra attention and possibly extend his punishment. Louis doesn't say anything but it's evident that he noticed Harry's movement when he responds by bringing his hand down harder on his next turn. It's a firm reminder to be good but the reaction only makes Harry want to act out again, push things a little further, test the limits.
Twenty-three, twenty-four. He's running out of time and he still wants more. He shifts on his knees and arches his back, changing his position slightly. A loud groan escapes his open mouth when Zayn's hand lands hard against his swollen flesh. Pain and pleasure swirling together through Harry's veins, pulling him closer to subspace.
"Twenty-seven," the crowd erupts, calling out the magic number in unison as his husband punctuates the moment with a final pointed smack. The sound of his palm connecting one last time with Harry's tender arse reverberates through the room and Harry's head lolls forward in response, mourning the end.
"And one for good luck!" Louis shouts.
Harry's cock jumps, precum dripping from the slit at the shock and surprise of the unexpected extra whack. Harry catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Wild curls falling over his face, a few sweaty strands plastered to his forehead and clinging to his cheeks where they're caught in his tears. Pupils dilated. Lips swollen red from being pulled between his teeth in the moments between gasps and moans. He's a wreck already and they haven't even made it to the main act. Then he notices the people in the background, behind him in the reflection. The people who've been watching him. Even in the dim lighting of the club, he can recognise the unmistakable motion of several people lazily stroking themselves. He's dizzy over the thought of people touching themselves while watching him getting spanked.
Floating somewhere between reality and subspace, Harry's mind registers voices in the distance. They sound muffled, like he's under water. It's not until he feels the gentle pressure on his wrist, two distinct pulses—I've got you—that he realises Louis is speaking to him.
"How're you doing? Are you ready for cake, love?"
"Mhmm," Harry hums with a sated smile.
"Colour?"
"So green. Like, the brightest green. Neon green." His lips part, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face as he continues. "Like my running shoes that you hate."
Louis chuckles. "I do hate those."
Harry tries to pout, pushing his bottom lip out dramatically before his face returns to its previously giddy expression. "Feels nice," he says when he registers Louis' delicate touch on his sore skin. He's carefully rubbing soothing circles over Harry's arse.
Louis leans closer, brushing Harry's hair back away from his face and placing a light kiss against his temple. "Cake?" Harry nods enthusiastically and takes his husband's outstretched hand, carefully standing back up. The party has only just begun but the muscles in his back are already feeling the strain of being bent over and tense during his spanking, and his knees are stiff from holding his weight, not to mention his bruised arse. Harry wouldn't change a thing though. He loves all of the little reminders of what his body has endured.
Louis leads him to the stool where his birthday cake awaits him. Standing beside it and facing the room, Harry risks a glance out into the crowd watching them. The room is packed. There's a tangible tension in the air. He can see it, smell it, feel it. Anticipation, excitement, lust, desire and hunger all mixing together and creating an atmosphere thick with pleasure. Hands roaming over hips, fingertips trailing along ribs, palms squeezing breasts, and fingers exploring under waistbands, sneaking in between thighs and sinking into the heat. The intensity, the intimacy, the eroticism… and at the centre of it all, is Harry. A sharp thrill shoots through his core, adding to the building pressure deep in his loins.
Zayn guides Harry to turn around and Louis helps to line him up behind the stool, ensuring that he's in the proper position. "Look at that perfect little arse." Zayn drags his fingers up the back of Harry's thighs and over the swell of his cheeks. "All pretty and pink. Matching the frosting on your cake."
"Mmm, been lookin' forward to this," Harry slurs, preparing himself for what's about to happen.
"Go on, then," Louis places a hand on Harry's shoulder, coaxing him to lower himself down.
Harry bends his knees and sinks down onto the cake until his arse is flush with the swirls of fluffy buttercream decorating the top of it. When he allows his body to settle into the cake completely, it's better than he had imagined. The frosting feels cool against his overheated and sensitive flesh. A similar feeling to when Louis rubs cream onto Harry's tender skin after he's been rough with him. He closes his eyes and rocks his hips a bit, indulging in the feeling, spreading the icing and cake over his bare arse. It's filthy and strange but he doesn't want to stop. Moaning softly with his teeth sinking into his plush bottom lip, Harry makes a show of grinding into the messy dessert when he remembers the crowd of on-lookers watching him. Strangers staring at him while he rides a birthday cake like he's riding his husband. The notion has his body quivering and his cock twitching.
"Fuck," Louis hisses beside him. "Need to get my mouth on you, babe." The thought alone has Harry's body trembling in expectation. He wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, squeezing it firmly and trying to slow down the orgasm that's quickly building in his body. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He regains control, determined to hold out, not wanting to miss out on the full experience. Wanting to be a good boy. With shaky legs, he lifts his body off the cake and brings himself back up to stand.
Covered in sticky pink frosting and cake crumbs, Harry stands proudly on display, picturing the audience admiring him like this. Hoping they find all of this as sensual and erotic as he does. Facing away from the room and unable to see their expressions, a tiny flicker of doubt starts to creep into his mind. What if they don't find this sexy?
Before he can entertain that thought, there's a finger swirling through the sugary mess coating his backside, tracing over his left arse cheek and gathering remnants of the sweet dessert along the way. When he turns his head, it's to see Zayn bringing his frosting covered fingers up to his lips. He holds eye contact with Harry while he opens his mouth, sliding his long fingers inside and wrapping his lips around them. Cheeks hollowed, sucking them clean. But it's anything but clean.
Two fingers under Harry's chin, gently shift his gaze to his other side where Louis is presenting him with his own cake covered fingers. "Open," he instructs and Harry obeys. A desperate whimper escaping as his mouth falls open to accept his husband's icing-coated thumb first. "Just a little taste." Louis presses it into his mouth and Harry moans at both the taste and the feeling. With his lips wrapped tightly around it, Harry sucks hard, his tongue working to lick every bit of frosting from Louis' thumb until it's completely clean.
"Good boy," Louis praises him and pulls his thumb out. "Back over to the bench," he directs Harry, adjusting the bench so he's able to lay in a more prone position. Face down and with his body only slightly bent at the waist now, Harry is able to relax a little more while his husband prepares for what will come next.
Always keeping Harry's comfort and safety top of mind, Louis checks in on him once more. "Still with me, love?"
Unable to form any words at the moment, Harry hums blissfully.
Louis chuckles quietly, fingers circling around Harry's wrist in a familiar gesture. Grounding him with two presses. I've got you. "Colour?"
"Green, green, green," Harry mumbles, happy and hazy. The words coming out more like a melody in a song than an answer to a question.
Louis releases his grasp on Harry's wrist and kisses his shoulder. "Can't have cake without ice cream," he announces, stepping off to the side to retrieve a tub of vanilla ice cream that's been softening in the cooler nearby. Harry watches in the mirror as Louis returns a moment later with his arms full of an assortment of toppings and sauces as well.
A cold scoop of the semi-frozen dessert is dropped onto him without warning, landing right at the base of his spine, just above the start of his crack. With his lower body angled down slightly, the dessert melts downward, following the curve of Harry's arse. He shivers in response to the sensation of having a freezing cold, creamy substance running down his crack. As the melting ice cream inches its way lower, teasing its way closer to his hole, Harry fidgets on the bench. He needs to touch himself, wants to relieve some of the pressure that's been building, but he won't give in. Not yet. The promise of holding out and being rewarded with the ultimate birthday gift, being able to celebrate by painting his husband and Zayn with his release, is too enticing. He must be a good boy.
At the thought of Zayn, Harry turns his head to the left searching for the other man, curious to know if he's participating in the ice cream party that's currently being laid out on his body. As much as he had hoped that Zayn would be helping with the toppings, Harry is not disappointed to instead find him seated, eyes locked intently on where Louis is working to turn Harry into the tastiest dessert alive. With his mesh shirt removed, Zayn's now dressed in only a tight pair of leather trousers which have been unbuttoned, allowing his cock to rest heavily in his hand as he watches. When his lips part and his tongue purposefully swipes over them in a seductive circle, Harry can't stop his hips from pressing down into the bench, seeking some friction against his neglected dick.
He snakes his hand down between the bench and his torso, yearning to touch himself, but Louis notices and pinches his inner thigh. "Don't you want to wait until after Zayn and I have already finished? Isn't that what you wanted for your birthday?"
Harry huffs, letting out a tiny groan and pulling his eyes away from Zayn. "Tired of waiting," he whines. "It's too much."
Louis tuts. "Already? But I haven't even tasted you yet."
"Unghh," Harry moans, deep and guttural. Reflexively his hips begin to grind against the bench providing him with the friction he desires so much.
"Gonna spoil your big finale like that," Louis reminds him. "Want me to help you hold out? Or do you want to come now?"
"Wanna hold out. Wanna be good for you."
"Okay, baby. Lift your hips up for me." Louis guides Harry's body as he changes the position of the bench below him. He's back to being bent over on his knees, arse up in the air like he was when he was being spanked earlier in the evening. With his hips up high and back, it's impossible for him to press his body into the bench. Now his cock is hanging heavy in the space between the upper portion of the bench where his chest is resting flat against the vinyl cushion and the lower spot where he's kneeling. "Better?"
"Mhmm."
"Hands over your head, love," Louis instructs. "This okay?" He wraps the tie from Harry's robe around his wrists, securing them together first and then looping the silky string through a ring on the top of the spanking bench, holding his arms in place.
"S'good. Thank you, Lou."
"Not too tight?"
"Just right." Harry smiles at Louis before turning his head back to face Zayn. With his hands tied overhead now and his chest flush to the bench, it's more comfortable for him to turn his face to the side so his cheek is resting against the cushion. Harry's grateful for the brief distraction being repositioned provided to him. In that time, he's managed to calm himself down a bit and he's no longer desperate for release. Now he's able to enjoy watching the slow tug of Zayn's tattooed hand as he strokes himself. The repetitive movement becomes almost meditative, pulling Harry further into that spacey place he loves so much.
A puff of cool air on his bare arse, paired with the recognisable sound of whipped cream being dispensed from a can jolt Harry back to the present just in time for him to feel the airy fluffiness sprayed onto his body. Louis deposits one dollop of whipped cream on each of his cheeks before adding what Harry guesses is meant to be a smile below them. He imagines his husband wearing a matching smile as he admires his artwork. Then Harry remembers that there's also a crowd of people watching all of this take place. He moves his head, turning away from Zayn and looking into the mirror instead, wanting to get a peek at his audience. Fuck. There's a whole room full of people watching as his naked arse is literally being turned into an ice cream sundae. Right in front of them. And they're getting off watching it.
As if it's been scripted, as soon as the thought crosses his mind, someone sitting near the front erupts, spilling over their closed fist and shooting up onto their chest. Harry's watching them when an intense scent of chocolate suddenly fills the air. Perfectly timed with the ropes of white streaking the torso of the stranger in the crowd, Harry's arse is streaked with chocolate sauce. The sight and the sensation mirroring one another impeccably and pushing Harry closer to his climax.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck.
Unable to touch himself, Harry closes his eyes once again and concentrates on his breathing. His heart is racing, his balls are aching and his dick is throbbing. He's a mess but he's so happy. With a long exhale out through his nose, Harry tries to focus on what Louis is doing. He listens closely, hearing the sound of a lid being popped opened on a container. Then he's being tickled by thousands of tiny sprinkles as they're poured over his sticky, naked skin. He feels Louis swipe a finger through the sugary mixture dripping down his arse and then suddenly Louis is standing beside him.
"Figured you should have the first bite, birthday boy." He winks at Harry, holding out his sticky finger. Harry wastes no time opening his mouth, practically drooling at the chance to get Louis' finger between his lips. He traces his tongue along the length of it before pulling it into his mouth completely and sucking on it suggestively. Saccharine spit spills out over his lips and drips down his chin while he works Louis' finger with determination.
Once it's been sufficiently cleaned, Louis removes his finger from Harry's mouth and wipes the saliva from his face. "My turn to finally have a taste," he says, stepping away to reclaim his previous spot nearer to Harry's arse.
In a daze once again, Harry settles his cheek back down on the bench and let's his eyes travel over to where Zayn is sitting. With heavy lids and a slow hand, Zayn is still watching Harry, or rather, he's watching what Louis is doing to Harry. While his right hand is busy stroking his cock, Zayn's left hand is massaging his balls. Harry watches as he plays with his scrotum, cupping his testicles and gently pulling on the skin in between them.
With his attention on Zayn, Harry is startled by the feeling of Louis' lips on his right hip. His mouth travels across the swell of Harry's right arse cheek, kissing, licking and nibbling over his sticky skin along the way. Hot breath and warm lips against his body in stark contrast to the cold ice cream, driving him wild. Louis braces himself, grabbing onto Harry's hips. Then he flattens his tongue and licks a broad stripe up his cheek, clearing the frosting and ice cream away. He repeats the motion again and again, cleaning the sugary mess from Harry's flesh, moaning while he does it. The vibrations from Louis' moans along with the relentless scratch of his stubbled jaw rubbing against Harry's sensitive flesh are sending little shock waves through his core. Harry's not sure how he's going to outlast Louis and Zayn.
Zayn.
His eyes dart back over to where Zayn is continuing play with himself. His hand is moving faster now and he's rubbing his thumb over his head on each upstroke, spreading precum around with each swipe. Fuck. Watching Zayn please himself while he's watching Harry get cake and ice cream licked off his naked arse in front of a room full of people who are also watching and touching themselves is such a turn on. If Harry doesn't survive this, at least he'll die happy.
He's staring at Zayn's hand, mesmerised by the hypnotic motion. The colourful tattoos adorning his hand blurring like sfumato in a daVinci painting as he works himself over. He's a fucking work of art and Harry wants to paint him. Actually, he's not even quite sure which he'd prefer anymore—coming on Zayn or having Zayn come on him. It's a win-win situation really.
Harry is busy contemplating the two scenarios in his head, when Louis sinks his teeth into the meaty part of his left arse cheek. Harry's eyes squeeze shut on instinct and he gasps in pleasure.
When he re-opens his eyes, Zayn's gaze is locked on him. He's biting his lip. His pupils are blown, brows drawn close together and there's a sheen of sweat coating his upper lip. His hand is moving at a furious pace, wrist flicking quickly and with purpose.
Harry keeps his eyes locked on Zayn while Louis soothes his tongue over the bite mark he just imprinted onto Harry's flesh. Licking methodically to calm the tender skin while he continues to lap up the melted ice cream and chocolate sauce. Each stroke of his tongue filled with hunger and fuelled by desire. Louis is devouring Harry like he's his favourite treat.
Harry is still watching Zayn, but Zayn's eyes are focused back on Louis now. His attention set on the way that Louis is burying his face in Harry's arse, squeezing his cheeks as he licks whipped cream and vanilla ice cream from every inch of it. When Louis drags his tongue over Harry's perineum and up the length of his crack, sucking up the last remaining sweet remnants of this Harry-flavoured sundae, it pulls a loud moan from Harry's lips.
Zayn's eyes flick back up to Harry's face and his hand begins to lose its rhythm, his cadence growing sloppy and more desperate as his orgasm approaches.
"On my face," Harry begs. It's not what they planned but now that the moment is here, it's what he wants, and he hopes that Zayn will indulge him anyway. Harry opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue in invitation.
Zayn accepts, standing up on shaky legs and stepping closer to Harry. With a final few tugs, he aims for Harry and explodes. Warm white ropes of cum squirt onto his outstretched tongue and across his cheeks, dribbling down his chin and leaving traces in his hair. Harry swallows as much as he can, licking his lips to gather up anything else that his tongue can reach. Zayn collapses back into his chair looking equal parts wrecked and blissed out.
Harry stares in awe. He's trying to ground himself, but he's floating. Falling? He isn't sure. Either way, he knows he's about to go under. Before he can't let go completely, Louis is standing in front of him. The button on his jeans is undone and the fly is open. He's holding his hard cock, bringing it up to Harry's face and running it over his glistening lips. Harry tongues the tip briefly before Louis rubs his length over Harry's cheeks, collecting what's left of Zayn's release. Now slick with Zayn's cum, Louis strokes his shaft while Harry watches.
"You still with me, love?"
Harry nods his head yes. His lids are heavy, he's sinking, but his cheeks are dimpled as he grins up at his husband.
"Still green?"
"Still green," Harry confirms.
"I'm not gonna last much longer."
"Mmmm," Harry hums, still smiling. "Gonna get my birthday wish after all." His voice is soft and gravelly when he speaks. "It's 'cause I've been a good boy."
Just like with Zayn a few moments ago, Harry finds himself considering the two possible outcomes—Louis outlasting Harry and marking him with his release, or Louis finishing first, giving Harry the opportunity to make a mess of his husband's body. He'd be happy with either ending.
Then a third option floats through his hazy mind.
"Lou," Harry murmurs, lifting his head as best as he can from his current position and tugging on his wrist restraints. "Can you untie me?"
Louis' hand stills immediately. The lustful expression on his face has been replaced with one of concern. "Of course, love. Are you alright?" His hands are already working to untie the knot, the silky tie loosening around Harry's wrists until it slips off completely. Instinctively Louis begins to rub Harry's wrists, soothing his delicate skin. Two gentle presses against his pulse point. I've got you.
"M'okay," Harry giggles, pulling his hands away. "Just need to touch myself." He carefully pushes himself up, lifting his upper body up off of the bench and turning around so he can sit upright. His muscles are stiff and sore from being restrained in one position for such a long time. "Wanna finish together," he says, wrapping a hand around his throbbing cock and finally giving it some attention. "At the same time."
"Oh," Louis' eyes widen, surprised by Harry's proposition. "Yeah? S'that what you want, baby?" His hand is already back on his dick, stroking lazily as he speaks. "How do you wan— "
"Up here. Wanna sit in your lap." Harry scoots over to the edge of the bench making room for Louis to sit. While he waits for Louis to get situated, Harry lets his gaze drift across the room. It's dark but he can still see that everyone in the room is watching them. Fuck, Harry loves being watched. He can't wait to finally come in front of all of these people.
"C'mon, love." Louis pulls him into his lap and helps him get settled. Harry's arse is still covered in a sugary film, sticky and sore. The rough denim of Louis' jeans against his bare skin only exacerbates the tenderness.
They're facing each other. Louis is sitting with his legs hanging over the side of the bench with Harry in his lap. His knees are bent and resting against the outsides of Louis' thighs, bracketing him in and giving Harry a bit of leverage. They share a quick kiss on the lips before they both lean back, making room for their hands to sneak between their bodies. Knuckles bumping into each other as they frantically pull themselves off. The sound of their ragged, hot breaths and the rapid thump of Harry's heartbeat fill the space between them, creating the staccato soundtrack to their passion.
Harry's hand is dry and the drag is rough as he works a loose fist over his shaft. He wishes his discarded robe and the bottle of lube tucked into its pocket weren't out of reach. Too caught up in the moment and too close to coming, he can't risk pausing things now to go fetch it. Instead he gathers up as much saliva in his mouth as he can and spits into his palm. Keen to help, Louis leans over, spitting directly onto Harry's waiting dick. A messy string of saliva clings to his husband's bottom lip until Harry collects it with a swipe of his tongue. Louis responds by burying his face in Harry's neck, kissing, sucking and biting tiny bruises below his ear and along his jaw. Harry tilts his head to the side, granting Louis better access to continue marking him.
Perched in Louis' lap, Harry is better positioned to take in everything that's happening in the room around them, helping to satisfy the exhibitionist in him. He enjoyed being tied up and set out on display, but this feels more intimate. Sitting together like this, close enough to swallow Louis' moans and see the lust in his eyes, all while a roomful of strangers watches on and jerks off, is ticking off nearly every box on the list of Harry's fantasies.
Over Louis' shoulder, Harry catches sight of Zayn who appears to have recovered and is now lazily pulling on his thickening cock while he watches them. Harry wants to make him come again. He arches his back and lets his head fall back, mouth dropping open in ecstasy, putting on a show for the man.
Louis begins to roll his hips, his hand speeding up and losing it's previously metronomic timing. He's close, and so is Harry. With a renewed intensity, Harry takes advantage of his current position and grinds down into Louis' lap, matching his husband's movements and rocking their bodies together in time.
"Mmm, feels so, ugh… " Louis moans. "Feels so fuckin' good, baby."
Harry's senses are overwhelmed. It feels like there's a tsunami building up inside of him, forming from deep within his core, rumbling underneath his skin and threatening to burst out from in between his ribs.
"Need to come."
"Go on, love. Come for me."
The words are still hanging in the air between them when Harry erupts, cum shooting out across their bare abdomens and up onto their sweaty chests. He collapses, head dropping onto Louis' shoulder as his body shudders, riding out the waves of his climax. Louis cradles him with his left arm while his right hand finishes stripping his own dick, cum spilling over his hand and mixing with Harry's on their naked bodies.
"Fuck," Louis rasps. A bead of sweat drips from his messy fringe and Harry feels it land on the back of his neck, tickling his overheated skin. "Happy birthday, love." He presses a kiss into Harry's hair.
A contented sigh and a lopsided smile are all that Harry can muster up in his current euphoric state. Louis traces his fingers over Harry's back in lazy shapes and patterns, and then brings them up over his shoulder, before they slide down over the defined muscles of his arms, until he finally reaches his wrist, circling his fingers around it. I've got you. Blissed out, satiated, and safe, Harry lets go.
When he wakes up, Louis is sitting beside him, carding his fingers through Harry's mussed up hair. Harry is lying naked on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms. The lightweight down comforter that's draped over him feels cool and comforting against his bare skin. He shifts in the bed, turning to face his husband. "M'not sticky anymore," he remarks, touching his smooth, clean skin. "Thank you for cleaning me up."
Louis lets out a gentle laugh. "It's the least I could do. Still need to rub some more cream on your arse but I didn't want to wake you. Have some water." He hands Harry a bottle. "Did you enjoy your birthday party? Was it everything you wished for?"
Harry swallows and sets the water bottle down on the bedside table beside him. "It was perfect." He snuggles up closer to Louis, inhaling his familiar scent before placing a series of tiny, rapid-fire kisses onto his chest. "Is it too soon to start planning for next year?"
Louis pulls him in closer, wrapping his arms around his husband and cuddling him against his chest. "Might take us 'til then to finally clean all the frosting and sprinkles out from every nook and cranny," he teases, giving Harry's hip a playful pinch. "S'almost as bad as tryin' to get rid of all the sand after a trip to the beach!"
"I don't like sand," Harry begins to quote Star Wars, doing his best impression of Anakin, but struggling to get the words out in between giggles. "It's coarse and rough and irritating. And it gets everywhere," he finally manages to finish the line.
"You're such a dork." Louis kisses his forehead affectionately. "I love you."
"I know," Harry smirks.