Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry:

He spied him across the class room and rolled his eyes. Conor O'Malley. How he hated him. They'd known each other practically from birth. He was two years older than him, old enough to he his brother, so he was around the quiet boy frequently growing up. They went to the same elementary school and now junior high school. It was maddening. It was almost like everything he did or said, Conor never yielded to or adored him like everyone else at school. Even the toughest nut has to crack! Except now, he knew the dark secret Conor carried on him like a cursed sign.

He smiled in victory, watching him work at his desk in the back while he sat four rows up. He hated that he was never able to know what was going through Conor's head. Finally, he could say, "Yeah, I got my eye on you." Conor looked up at him as he stared at him, never blinking his eyes, and looked back down at the notes he was taking. He laughed and turned getting back to his own work for class.

To be completely honest, he was better at art more than him. They both had the same art class for third period, art being their favorite subject. They both had exceptional skills, were regarded by their teacher Ms. Gardner...Conor was definitely better than him when it came to art. And he knew it. But he was a more popular person. I guess you could say he's a "Golden Boy", but he didn't really care. He was still the kid nobody crossed.

Harry glanced at him again. Conor really was cute. Well, actually he was kind of handsome. Short hair black as night, forest green eyes, charming smile (when he showed it), medium sized build (half the size of Harry, it tickled him to overshadow him) curving into a small waist, slim hips over one of the sweetest asses he'd ever seen, on top of long good looking legs. He'd seen him in trunks a few times when they were in swimming class, and still couldn't get the image out of his mind. Even as he watched him that day, he could see that wet bodied hot boy rising from the water.

Still, with as mysteriously cute as he was, and as attracted as he was to Conor, he hated his guts. Conor, even from child hood, had never kissed up or gave him the joy of seeing his embarrassment. He didn't know what it was about him that Conor hated so much, but he never held his head down when he would come his way. Quiet bravery, reserved, bold, everything he hated in anyone who took the piss out of him. It was practically known by everyone. They'd either stare at each other, which always ended up in Conor beat down by Harry and his mates, or would ignore each other completely, the curious yet wanting silence between them thickening the air with tension. Conor stare him down with those stubborn green eyes, and he'd huff in smug confidence glaring back.

He almost felt bad about being in the position Conor, a Mum dying of cancer was a very low blow, but every time Conor glared at him with those stunning strong eyes, he felt absolutely proud of himself. He'd officially out done him. He'd captured O'Malley's attention there was nothing he could do about it.

Chapter Text

Conor:

He nearly felt sick watching his wolfish arrogant eyes watching him from four rows up in front of the class. How the hell could he respond to that? He'd always been so damn cool, knowing he could kiss up to anyone with that 'seductive' charm and they'd listen to him or award him Student of the Year.

He thought back to their coinciding boyhoods, and grimaced. He was in his way every time he turned around. His own teachers cooed over and praised him. He'd been his best friend, Lily Andrews, crush at one point. Lily was pretty much a treasure to her parents. She held onto pretty good grades in school that let her pass her classes, but when she tried to get into a magnet program, she didn't make it. She still didn't let it break her, just like they'd always knew she'd always bounce back, and now dreams of being a writer. Harry is the son any parents would want. He was a star in almost everything he did, whether it be sports, academics, church, blah blah blah. Then he'd gloat to all of his friends showing pictures saying, "I totally nailed it...Nobody does it like me," while Conor was doing every single thing he was doing, and just as good. No one noticed. Not one time. His Dad missed nearly every event in his life. Mostly because he was a Free Spirit....and he still wondered why he was so shocked that his Dad was here now as his Mom was dying.

Conor did everything, well not everything, better than Harry. Everything. Including school. He knew Harry backwards and forwards, and ever since he came to the new school, he'd wanted to not be bothered by anybody. Not anywhere else. This was the one and only place he tried to escape the pain at home. He didn't just want to be some Sitting Duck at a desk. He wanted his Mom to get better. It was all he longed for just as his weird dreams and "House Calls" from "The Monster" started. He had actually told Harry about it one day through his own absent minded idiocy, and he taunted him with it, right in his face.

He hated Harry with all his wide creative spirit.

But even as he knew that, he couldn't help but freeze up a little when looking at him. He was very tall and broad shouldered, well built (though not a jock at all), those gorgeous ambitious greenish-brown eyes, perfect, fine locks of brown hair that almost fell right into his eyes when he turned his head a certain way...

Just thinking about it had warmth and wetness stirring in between his legs, and he cursed inwardly, kicking at the left front leg of his desk. No matter how much he hated the boy, he couldn't help his hormones. He was so hot it hurt to look at him.

He caught Harry looking his way, grinned and gave a wink. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking, subconsciously licked his lips though wanting to flip him off. His look of dismay was enough to give Conor a satisfied smirk as he turned back to his textbook.

Chapter Text

Two Weeks Later:

Conor:

"Damn it!" he cursed as he got out of his grandmother's car. He felt like melting away. Make a break for the school entrance. In the rain. Just as first period was about to start.

He lived in a suburb of a small town, so going to and fro there was always a common thing. And here he was. Fighting Mother Nature. Without an umbrella.

Soon getting soaked in his school uniform, he got inside and went to his locker. He knew he'd have to face Harry since he'd been late headed for school. Conor gritted his teeth and walked into class. His drenched hair and clothes said more to the teacher and class than words could. Harry for reasons odd to Conor had taken the window seat to the left of his desk today.

"Top of the morning to you O'Malley, almost got 'blown' away did you?"

"Don't," he said with distaste at feeling hot just hearing Harry's voice.

"Now, now Connie, you know we can't have that. You know good boys don't come late over nothing."

"It's Conor. Come on Harry, you know I'm never late. If anything I'm always on time. Earlier than you...."

"Lighten up Connie. Is everything okay mate? Why were you so late?"

"I don't owe you my life story, I just..." He was interrupted by a call from the teacher, the rain pouring harder onto the window.

"Conor...what's up in that head of your...?" Harry asked in a whisper as the teacher badgered on about the Battle of Hastings.

He sighed at having to give up his privacy, "Mum's gotten worse Harry. I was going to the hospital and lost track of time, ran into a traffic jam, and now I'm wet like a dog and bloody pissed. I just want to be alone and I'll be fine but figured you'd wanna take the piss outta me first..."

"Nope, I'm not as bad as you think O'Malley. It's dangerous out there in the rain. Better watch out before you get swept away."

Before he could protest, Harry leaned back over in his seat and continued working on the day's lesson. Conor felt he had no other choice but to take Harry at his word.

Chapter Text

Harry:

He raced to get to the neighboring building, only slowing down when the rain got heavy. He couldn't believe he'd been careless enough to put his jacket over his head. He would've reached the door first if it weren't for two Indian students darting in front of him.

"Stupid foreign exchange twats," he muttered peering through the cold wet window.

Finally he'd spotted Conor, and slowly walked over too him. He crept up to him sitting on a cushioned seat absentmindedly looking out a window at the rain drenched field, only to find out that he was listening to his Ipod. He muttered and tried whispering at Conor to get his attention.

Taking a second, even in the clamor of rotating classes, he stared at Conor. His hair was something of a mess from the rain, clothes still damp and shoes a little muddy, his white skin in a cold sweat, and he looked more attractive than ever.

He threw a crumbled paper ball at him, and Conor looked up with a start, but before he could say anything, he practically went "Boo!" at him.

"Damn it Connie you in the Twilight Zone? All alone in your Dream World? Don't you know that's what geeks do! Christ, you're practically begging to get jumped and fucked by some weirdos! What's your DEAL huh?!" He began to get flustered as Conor gasped in surprise at his outburst, then he saw the fire in his enigmatic eyes.

"Why the hell do you care? I was fine with taking care of this myself but you had to go be a douche and make yourself look tough or some shit. Just leave me alone Harry!"

He ignored Conor and grabbed some tissues from his knapsack, then began wiping rain drops off his face. Conor scooted an inch over to the left on the seat to continue staring at him, "Harry, stop it! Are you deaf?! Look...look you're just making it weird..."

Conor continued to stare as he finished up drying his face and double checked to make sure he did his job well. Finally, he stood as Conor took a step forward in front of him, and took hold of his arms, moving his back against the wall. Conor was effectively stunned, and his lips came inches away from his prey's.

Conor was breathing heavy when he whispered, "What're you doing Harry?"

He only brought his lips down to Conor's, brushing them against his sweet pink puckered mouth, then placing them fully on his as he began to kiss the boy. Conor felt stiff and unresponsive for what seemed like a millisecond, but then melted against him, wrapping his arms around his neck, sighing as he opened his mouth to let Harry in, their tongues caressing each other. The kiss began to enter the feverish stage when he broke it, looking up at him with those eyes he loved and hated.

Conor seemed more vulnerable in that moment than he'd ever seen him as he murmured, "Harry... I..."

He pulled away from Conor abruptly, interrupting him, "Here's what we'll do. I'll follow you to your place, you can unwind if you feel the need, and we'll both chill on break since I brought extra clothes for myself, then I'll join you at lunch then walk you back home. I want you in one piece until we can get it changed."

Conor narrowed his eyes and hissed, "I can take care of myself..."

"I'm sure that's what you thought before, and here we are. I'm taking you. End of story O'Malley."

"You can't tell me what to do Ha..."

"Yes, I can. I'm your 'Prince'. Don't forget it."

Conor glared at him and his nostrils flared like they always did when he was really mad, "Piss off, Harry."

"Rather fuck you Connie." Harry grinned and winked.

Conor scoffed and stalked off to his next class, not bothering to look back.

Chapter Text

Conor:

He was trying to make sense of what had just happened. He'd let Harry kiss him. He'd let that crazy 'Pretty Boy' creep kiss him, and worse than that, he'd kissed him back, and he liked it. Loved it even! There was still heat pooling within his groin, and he'd been walking for what felt like six minutes.

He hated it but he'd always wondered what it would feel like to kiss Harry. His lips were charming, shapely but not too big, still looking perfect. They'd felt so much better against his than he'd ever imagined.

What the hell was wrong with him!?! He hated Harry. Hated hated hated...hated him...

He tried keeping the same word rolling in his head, but his thoughts were constantly forced back to Harry's tongue being inside his mouth.

Walking a little past his next classroom, he turned on his heal and jogged back there before the final bell, cursing at himself. He was going crazy! Maybe he just needed some sleep-or even call on The Monster. It had been a while...yeah that was it. He just needed some words of wisdom.

Finally he was walking into his Biology class, Harry not one second behind him. Conor walked practically ran from the door to a desk by the left window, quickly moving to claim it when he heard Harry behind him, "You know I always knew you were faster than The Flash, but even in the rain? Damn, a wonder you haven't fallen on your ass yet."

He flipped Harry off with one hand as his other was fumbling for a pen out of his pencil case.

"Oh, so you're set for class, but not for your life. Makes perfect sense to me."

He ignored that one simply because he DID feel very vulnerable weaving her over to the empty desk as he locked eyes with the handsome demon. That one deserved a remark.

After school ended that day, they finally walked to Conor's house, cold air greeting them, despite the wet weather.

"I always knew your house was on the eerie side." Harry smirked as they entered.

Conor spun, "Would you just bugger off, Harry? God! my family's not rich! So bloody sue me!"

That one did quiet him surprisingly. He stalked down the hall, removing his jacket and letting it fall to the couch where he threw it, doing the same with his other clothes as he dashed upstairs to his bedroom, unaware of Harry peeping in on him. He was doing this partly as a tease, but really he was just trying to change as fast as he could. He was still freezing, and he needed to warm up. He looked back after he'd shed his sweater to see Harry open mouthed starring at him. Conor grinned, and disappeared out and into the bathroom.

Chapter Text

Harry:

His hard on was ridiculous just after watching Conor semi-strip. He couldn't believe he'd done that. He'd always figured him to be a stick-in-the-mud.

Soon he heard the water start, and his shower door shut. It was all he could do to stay in the living room. He began pulling his old clothes off to put his fresh ones he originally packed for PE, and all he could think about was Conor's lips. The boy's lips on his was the most awesome thing he'd ever felt in his life. Conor was so entranced...so sensitive. He still wasn't even sure what had prompted him to kiss the boy who walked like a ghost...he just had to. He stood there, now naked, and decided there was something else he had to do.

Almost tip toeing down the hallway, he entered Conor's room, then tried the door to his bathroom. Unlocked. He had to wonder if he'd done that on purpose. He quietly, slowly opened the door. Conor's clear shower doors showed a fuzzy image of him, his fine back side to him.

Conor was almost in his own world as Harry stepped into the shower behind him, and gasped when his hands came to gently touch his waist as he whispered into Conor's ear, "Damn it O'Malley don't you realize there are sickos out there who'll come into your bathroom if you leave it unlocked?"

Conor was frozen, unsure of what to do, so Harry helped him. He kissed down the younger boy's neck onto his shoulders, and he was soon leaning his head back against Harry's chest. His wet hands trailed down Conor's arms and moved to his hips, going back up to stroke his chest. Conor moaned under his touch as Harry tweaked his nipple.

He'd always wondered what Conor's body looked like bare. It was just so perfect all around, his light pink nipples now jutting out to greet his hands as they played.

He turned Conor to face him, kissing him again bringing his cock to nudge against his crush's stomach. Conor gasped at the size of Harry rubbing against him, and brought his hands down to stroke him as their tongues intertwined. Now it was his turn to moan, Conor's soft hands touching him just like he'd always imagined.

He began to kiss down Conor's body, getting on his knees to kiss on his hips, licking, nipping and sucking the flesh there. He lifted one of Conor's legs onto the rim of his shower, opening the awestruck boy up to him. The smell of his virginity came to his nostrils like cinnamon as he licked the inside of Conor's thigh moving up ever so slowly. He reached his well hung somewhat hairless balls and sucked one into his mouth, eliciting an ever so sexy moan from the dark-haired boy.

He licked and sucked around the area Conor needed him most, but wouldn't fully touch it, and he writhed trying to feel him, moaning, "Harry...Harry please..."

His eyes widened, shocked looking up at Conor. He'd never, ever even asked him for anything, much less begged. It wasn't Conor's nature. This almost made him feel bad for bullying, so he sucked Conor's cock into his mouth, giving it his total attention. He then inserted one finger into his warm tunnel, feeling his legs buckle a little as he felt the inside of his secret obsession. He pulled it out, then inserted another, making Conor arch against the wall crying out. After much of this, he could feel him squeezing around his fingers as his thighs began to tremble feeling the oncoming orgasm.

Conor arched once again, moaning a chorus of "Fuck... ooohhh my... oh fuck... yes... Oh Harry... Oooooooooooohhhhh fuuuuuuucccckk."

He smiled against Conor's ass lips. He'd always known he'd drop F bombs whenever he was really worked up. Conor had that kind of mouth, when he needed to let his frustration out.

Conor's legs finally gave way, but he came down slowly, sliding down the wall of the shower to meet Harry on the shower floor, where by this time he was sitting with his legs out in front of him.

Before he could say anything, he was shocked as Conor climbed onto his lap straddling him while simultaneously being on his knees, and slowly lowered himself on Harry.

With his moves being so surprising, Harry thought the sudden surprise of his warmth and tightness would make him faint.

He stopped Conor, putting a hand on his hips. He looked at Harry, making a whimpering noise, biting his lip. Hell, when he looked at him like that, Conor thought he might cum anyway, even with him stopping. Harry nodded, watching his eyes become glassy with lust. Conor lowered himself onto him all the way, inch by tantalizing inch taking him further. Finally, he had all of the Golden Boy inside him, breathing another explicit word into the nape of his neck.

Conor leaned back a little, almost arching, and put both of Harry's hands behind his head lifting his hips in small short bounces on his swelling cock, rotating those beautiful hips in small circles making him feel every single fold of Conor's sweet center. Harry watched him as he closed his eyes, his mouth opening in a small "O" as Conor pleasured himself on him. He was the most enticing thing he'd ever laid eyes on, Conor's perfect balls bouncing with his movements, his small body rising underneath the nearly steaming heat of the shower water.

His breath caught as Conor groaned, "Oooh God fuuuck!" clamped around his hard member. Conor began twitching and contracting in a frenzy around him, seemingly trying to milk him, and did he. Conor was still cumming and he practically screamed, "I...Con...I'm cumming...I don't have..."

Conor finished just before slipping out of him and taking Harry into his mouth, even with his juices covering his throbbing dick, and sucking him until finally he exploded into the boy's mouth, grabbing a fistful of his black hair in both hands and pumping into his mouth, grunting incoherently as the heat of his orgasm passed over him. Conor fell back against the wall of the shower, and he did likewise on the other side.

Conor's eyes were hooded as he looked at Harry, then looked down murmuring, "We should clean up..."

Harry sleepily nodded, and helped Conor up off the tub floor after he'd stood. They slowly, almost lovingly washed, and helped clean each other. After a time the water started to cool off, so they rinsed and turned the shower off, drying themselves and dressing in silence. Once Conor had combed his hair, and dressed in more comfortable clothes, they left in his house.

***************

Conor watched out over the foggy hills as the wind and breeze seemed to sweep everything away. What had he just done? You're not supposed to have amazing hot sex with the bully you hate. What was going on between them? Was Harry interested in him, or just attracted to him? More importantly, was he interested in Harry?

Harry was apparently ticked off with the silence, so he turned on his iPod, listening to some Ed Sheeran song. Conor glanced at the iPod somewhat amused and changed it to a Zayn Malik song. He then changed it back, already irritated with Connor, and turned it up. Connor did the same going back to his favorite singer. Finally, after eight minutes of this, he grunted, "Leave my iPod alone Conny."

"It's Conor! You can't tell me what to do Harry."

"Yes, I can Conny. It's my iPod, in my bag, and I'm your Prince."

Conor's nostrils flared again, and he hissed, "Fuck you, Harry."

He grinned, looking at Connor and licking his lips, "Please do, Conny."

No, he decided, he wasn't interested. But as he looked at Harry's suave, angelic face, he remembered their seemingly dreamy moments in the shower, and he couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat and bones get heavy.

To be continued...

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