Chapter Text
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Louis asks blankly, pinching the inside of Liam’s elbow.
Liam slaps his hand away, hissing. “Jesus, Lou, would you fucking stop that already?”
“This is ridiculous,” Louis maintains, pinching Liam again.
“I told you he was good,” Liam says, rubbing his skin.
Louis’ sign is maybe a little bit inaccurate. He holds it up higher anyway, waving it over his head obnoxiously and trying to get Harry’s attention. Justin sees it first, elbowing Harry from where they’re sitting on the bench and nodding up at Louis. Louis beams and holds the sign straight, giving Harry a chance to read it.
STYLES IS THE WORST! it proclaims loudly.
Louis’ disappointed that it isn’t true. Nonetheless, he holds it up and watches Harry glare at it before spending the second half of the game running around like he’s showing off.
“Like this?” Harry asks like he doesn’t know, taking a couple big licks across Louis’ hole, getting him wet.
“Please,” Louis gasps, muscles twitching against Harry’s tongue, “please, Harry, please - ”
Neither of them realize that the door has opened until Liam lets out a pained shriek and yells, “Jesus, have you never heard of a lock?” before slamming the door closed again, presumably trying to dig his eyeballs out of his head with his fingers.
“Don’t stop,” Louis demands, digging his toes into Harry’s calves, pushy and stubborn, and they’re not actually exhibitionists - the last thing Harry wants is for someone to see the way Louis looks when they’re having sex - so he looks over his shoulder again, just making sure that the door is all the way closed before licking him again. It only takes another couple minutes before Louis is coming, hole fluttering around Harry’s tongue.
Harry’s moving before Louis is even finished, crushing their mouths together while Louis wraps loose fingers around his cock and gets him off quick and easy.
Alright. Maybe they do have a tiny bit of exhibitionism in them.
The door to Harry’s room bangs open the same way it always does, loud and abrupt. Harry glances up briefly. “Hey,” he says distractedly, already turning back to his book.
“Hey,” Louis returns, and then drops down onto Harry’s lap. Harry hadn’t even heard him crossing the room, but he tears his attention away from his textbook long enough to kiss Louis hello, cupping his jaw and making it sweet and soft, slowing down Louis’ attempts to turn it dirty.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, keeping one hand on Louis’ waist as he turns his attention back to his book the best that he can with Louis’ head still in the way. “Thought you were hanging out with Liam and Zayn today.”
Louis shrugs, poking Harry in the shoulder idly. “Ditched ‘em,” is all he says, poking Harry again.
“That’s not very nice,” Harry says, flipping the page.
“Yeah, well, thought my chances of getting laid were pretty good if I came over here,” Louis says, fiddling with Harry’s necklace. He’s a warm, heavy weight on Harry’s lap, and Harry would love that. Studying is never really all that appealing, but it’s even less appealing when he has Louis on his lap offering him sex.
Still, though. “I wish,” he says apologetically, petting Louis’ spine. “I have an exam in the morning, though, and I’m seriously underprepared.”
Louis sighs and moves off of Harry’s lap, flinging himself down onto the bed instead. He lands face first but rolls over, all huffy exasperation, kicking his shoes off and letting them thud onto the ground. “I hate you,” he says, cupping his cock through his trackies and rubbing it firmly. Harry’s not looking - he’s too busy studying for his exam tomorrow. He has no time for this.
He’s totally looking.
“I really don’t have time for this,” Harry says, focusing back on the page. The words swim in front of his eyes.
“No one’s asking you to do anything,” Louis says, pushing his hips up into his hand. He’s not even touching himself skin to skin yet but Harry still can’t stop looking. “I’ll just get myself off. You go back to studying.”
Like there’s any way that could happen when Louis is lying there touching himself on Harry’s bed. “Another time,” Harry pleads, getting up just so he can cross the room and drop to his knees beside the bed, putting his hand over Louis’ and halting his movements. “Tomorrow, baby, after my exam. You know I won’t be able to concentrate if you’re on my bed getting yourself off.”
Louis stops, hand just resting on his crotch. “We can make it quick,” he says, fingers twitching underneath Harry’s. “Ten minutes and we’ll be done.”
They have never - not even once - managed to get each other off in only ten minutes. Harry seriously doubts that this is going to be the time that they manage.
“Because rushing you to get off always works for me,” Harry says, raising an eyebrow. “You’re always so co-operative. And you never want to sleep after you’ve come and get irritated at me if I don’t cuddle you. That never happens.”
Louis crosses his arms over his chest. He would completely deny that he’s pouting if Harry mentioned it but he’s totally pouting. “Whatever,” he mutters. “So you don’t want any of this, I get it.” He uncrosses his arms and pulls his shirt up, exposing the smooth skin of his belly.
Harry really wants to rub his cock all over him. He’s capable of thinking with his brain, though, so he just rubs his hand over Louis’ belly. “Sweetheart, I always want some of this. I dream about getting some of this at night. Right now I just need to go back to studying and ace my exam tomorrow, then I’m going to come over to the dorm and nail you through the mattress. How’s that sound?”
“It’d sound better if it included some rimming,” Louis grumbles. Harry ducks down to press a couple of kisses to Louis’ belly, lingering a little.
“Eat you out so good that the only thing you’ll be able to do is whimper into the sheets,” Harry promises.
“Fine,” Louis sighs, over-dramatic as usual. Harry hides his smile in Louis’ skin and pushes himself to his feet, heading back over to the desk and dropping into his chair. He can hear Louis shuffling behind him, clothes and sheets rustling, and less than a minute later Harry can feel the heat of him against his back.
He’s making it really hard to turn him down.
“Tomorrow,” Louis says insistently, leaning down over Harry’s shoulder. “If you forget I’m never going to forgive you.”
“As if I could ever forget promising you sex,” Harry scoffs.
“Okay. I’m going, then,” Louis says, still leaning over Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s not going to let him leave without a goodnight kiss, so he twists around and pulls Louis into the optimal kissing position, half-across his lap. It’s dirtier than a goodnight kiss probably should be, but Harry has a long night of studying to get through and he needs something to think back on fondly.
Louis pulls back first, getting back onto his feet. “Don’t forget,” he orders, taking two steps towards the door.
Harry doesn’t let go of his hand. “I love you,” he says, stroking his thumb over Louis’ palm.
Louis’ mouth quirks up into a tiny little smile. “Yeah, whatever,” he says dismissively, trying to pull his hand out of Harry’s grip. Harry clutches harder.
“Hey,” he says.
“I love you too,” Louis says, sighing, and tugs at his hand again. “Are you going to let me go now? Because if you’re not I’m still expecting sex.”
Harry lets him go a little reluctantly. “I love you a lot,” he calls as Louis walks through the door. Louis flips him off and slams the door shut behind him, and Harry can finally get back to studying.
He doesn’t even take a break to jerk off, despite how much he wants to.
The exam goes pretty well - well enough that he’s pretty sure that he’s aced it, and he heads to Louis’ dorm with a little bit of a skip in his step and the entirely awesome feeling that he’s got no more tests to study for in the next week and a half.
He’s so ready for the sex. So ready. His cock is vaguely interested the entire way to the dorm - not enough to be noticeable to other people, thankfully, but enough that Harry’s conscious of it.
Louis isn’t there. Harry spends a full ten minutes alternatively knocking and then frowning at the door, wondering where the hell he is when he knows Harry’s coming.
Should be coming, anyway.
He calls Louis five times in a row. Worry seeps into his stomach when all of the calls ring out and go to voicemail. Louis doesn’t always answer his phone, and Harry’s pretty sure that sometimes he screens Harry’s calls just to fuck with him, but he’s never not answered when they have plans.
The feeling that something is wrong nags at him as he tries Liam. Liam doesn’t answer either, and Harry has no idea what that means. He tries Zayn next, heart rate picking up a little as it rings three times.
He doesn’t know what it means if Louis, Liam and Zayn don’t answer. It could be a coincidence - god, Harry hopes it’s a coincidence - but it might be something else.
What if Louis is hurt. Oh god, what if Louis is hurt. What if Louis is hurt and they don’t let Harry in to see him because he’s not family. What if they won’t let Harry see him and Louis is crying and Harry can’t get in to comfort him. What if Louis thinks he’s dying and Harry can’t be there to convince him that he’s not. Oh god, what if Louis is dying.
Harry’s heart seizes.
“Hello?” Zayn answers.
“We need to get married,” Harry blurts out.
There’s a second of incredulous silence. “What?” Zayn asks.
“Me and Lou,” Harry says hastily. “What if he gets into an accident and they won’t let me see him in hospital because we’re not married? We have to get married.”
“I don’t even want to know how your brain works,” Zayn mutters. “Louis’ here, he’s fine.”
He says fine weird. Harry’s suspicious. “Where’s Liam?”
“What?” Zayn asks distractedly. “Fuck, Lou, stop fucking throwing things! Liam’s here.”
In the entire time Harry has known him, he has never not answered his phone. Not even once. Even when Louis calls him drunk off his arse at three in the morning. Liam says it’s because anything could happen.
“So why didn’t he answer his phone?” Harry asks.
“Maybe because he’s too busy trying to pry the truth out of Lou?” Zayn suggests. “He still won’t tell us what you’re fighting about.”
Harry blinks. “We’re fighting?”
“Well he’s irritated and refusing to talk about you so we thought it was a pretty safe bet,” Zayn says diplomatically.
Fuck it. Harry’s going to get him. “I’m coming to get him,” he says, pivoting around and starting down the hallway. “Don’t let him leave.” He hangs up before Zayn has a chance to answer, hitting the pavement at a light jog, making his way through the quad quickly.
The door of Liam and Zayn’s flat is ajar when Harry gets there, so he lets himself in and finds the three of them splayed out across various pieces of furniture, the scent of weed hanging in the air.
“Does Liam know that this is weed?” Harry asks, announcing his presence. Two heads turn to look at him. Louis’ isn’t one of them.
Shit. They are fighting.
“Liam is the one who obtained it,” Liam grumbles. He struggles to his feet and drops a kiss onto the top of Louis’ head before leaving the room, shoulder checking Harry just hard enough to be a warning.
Harry is genuinely glad that Louis has people who would go to battle for him, people who aren’t Harry, but Liam’s wrath can be a little frightening. Zayn follows him, shooting Harry a half-apologetic look, but it’s not like Harry really minds. Liam will apologize tomorrow and they’ll hug it out like bros, the same way they always do. He can’t help being a little over-protective over Louis, and neither can Harry.
“So Zayn told me that we’re fighting,” Harry starts, taking a seat next to where Louis is lying.
“Zayn doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Louis mumbles into his arm. Normally when they’re fighting Louis is up front about it, so Harry risks it and puts his hand on Louis’ thigh, squeezing a little.
“So you just forgot that we had plans today?” Harry asks. Louis smells like the weed but not overtly so, like maybe he’s just had a few drags and is barely even buzzed.
He’s definitely not high, Harry can tell that much. Pot makes him horny, and he’s never shy about climbing into Harry’s lap and grinding on him.
“We didn’t have plans, we were just gonna fuck,” Louis says. It’s still mumbled because he hasn’t taken his arm off of his face, and with his face covered it’s harder to tell what he might be thinking. “You’re the one who’s always telling me that I promise you sex things and then back out, I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”
That definitely sounds like they’re fighting. Harry still has no idea what they’re fighting about. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” he asks. “I don’t remember doing anything that could have upset you. Unless - are you mad that I had to study last night?”
Louis sighs. “I’m not mad, Harry,” he says. “I’m not upset, either.”
Harry rolls his eyes, even though Louis can’t see him do it. “I know when you’re upset, Lou, but if you really don’t want to talk about it I can drop it.”
He’s not sure what to follow that up with, so he stays quiet, Louis’ muscles firm underneath his fingers, and tries not to fidget. He can respect it if Louis doesn’t want to talk about whatever it is, but he really wants Louis to tell him.
“There’s this girl,” Louis says abruptly, unmoving. “She said that she doesn’t understand why you’re with me because you’re so much more attractive than me.”
Harry squints at the wall. As a general rule, Louis doesn’t give a shit what people say about him. “And that upset you?” he ventures.
“What? No, don’t be daft,” Louis says irritably. “Like I give a single fuck about what she thinks of me. Justin changed the subject, but ten minutes later this other bird starts going on about how she’s gonna try to hook up with you, right in front of me, and I’m all like um, hello? Standing right in front of you.”
Harry doubts that he’d been that polite about it. Louis continues, “She didn’t even know who I was. She didn’t know that you were taken, and when it got pointed out she shut up about it, but I could tell she was still thinking about it. And I’m not jealous, but it was still fucked up.”
It would be a very stupid move to point out that Louis does sound like he’s jealous, and that he has a history of being jealous around people who might be interested in Harry. Harry wisely keeps his mouth shut.
“That’s why you’re upset?” he asks instead. It still doesn’t seem like the whole story.
Louis squirms. He’s so annoyed about this that it’s funny, but Harry doesn’t laugh. He likes his balls where they are, thank you very much. “Then there was this guy,” Louis says, and pauses to swallow. He peeks out at Harry from underneath his arm and then shuts his eyes again. “And he was totally your type, all small and - ”
“You’re my type,” Harry interrupts. “Or did you miss the part where I’ve spent my entire uni career trying to date you?”
Louis lowers his arm long enough to shoot Harry a look. “Am I supposed to ignore the type of porn you watch, then?” he asks. “Because you definitely have a type, and this guy was it.”
This is probably the best time for sappy romantic things. “I mainly watch porn with blokes who remind me of you,” he admits. “Ever since that first time you dumped your drink in my lap. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“One of these days I’m going to re-evaluate the choices that have lead me here and break up with you,” Louis mutters, but Harry can see the flush creeping along his cheekbones. He loves it when Harry tells him how much he loves him, how much he wants him, but it still makes him blush sometimes.
Harry’s fascinated by it, so he tries to do it as much as possible.
“The guy,” Harry prompts.
“Anyway, the guy looks at me and says that he doesn’t understand why someone like you would want someone like me,” Louis continues like it was his idea, “He said that he would have guessed that you’d want someone who was less into sport or more into art, that kind of thing. Weird indie music or summat.”
So much of that is so confusing. “Someone who’s less into sport?” Harry repeats. “He realizes that I’m on the rugby team, right?”
Louis lets his arm flop down to his side, looking over at Harry. “I think he was trying to say that you’d want someone who’s quieter and didn’t talk over you so much.”
“You think,” Harry repeats.
“Okay, maybe that’s literally what he said and I almost made him cry before Justin dragged me away,” Louis admits. “But it just - it got to me.”
“And then you came to find me and I told you no,” Harry says.
Louis shrugs. “Pretty much.”
“Okay,” Harry says, because while it’s not exactly easy to get a thought out of Louis’ head once it’s in there Harry’s pretty experienced at it. “I love that you’re into sport. When I watch you play footie I want to bend you over right on the field and let your entire team watch while I eat you out. You’re sweaty and athletic and graceful and you’re so fucking good at it it makes me hard.”
“Dirty,” Louis says, smiling just the tiniest little bit. Harry drags one of Louis’ hands up and kisses his palm gently.
“You know me,” he agrees. “Also, sex with someone who’s athletic and bendy? Clearly this guy has no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t care that you’re not into weird indie music or art or whatever the fuck he was trying to say, and as for the talking over me bit - well.”
“I do do that,” Louis says, watching him. “I do that all the time.”
He does. “You do,” Harry admits. “But you listen too, and you never do it when we’re talking about something important. And I know if I asked you to stop you would make a really genuine effort to.”
Louis pushes himself up onto his elbows. “You sure about that?”
“Completely,” Harry says, smiling. “Unless you’re actively trying to piss me off.”
“Okay,” Louis says, sitting up completely. It leaves him close enough for their shoulders to brush together, and that’s nice. “Let’s go home, then.” He stretches his hand out for Harry to help him up, which he does.
“Does home count as mine or yours?” Harry asks, standing up and waiting patiently while Louis stuffs his feet into his shoes and gathers his stuff from where he’s strewn it across the room.
“Home is wherever you are, Harold,” Louis simpers, holding a hand to his own chest.
Harry laughs. “I’m taking that as the frat, you know,” he informs Louis, slinging his arm over his shoulders as they head towards the door. Louis’ phone vibrates with an incoming text along the way, and Harry’s not ashamed of the way he reads it over Louis’ shoulder.
you two are disgusting
“Aww, thanks, Liam,” Harry calls, making sure that the door closes behind them.
The first thing Louis does when they get into Harry’s room is kick his shoes off and collapse onto the bed, spreading himself out with his arse just the tiniest bit up in a way that makes it impossible not to look at.
“Nice bum,” Harry says, resisting the urge to whistle, if only because Niall might actually murder him, probably asleep down the hall.
Louis wiggles it a little. “Thanks. You gonna come and eat it or did you just bring me here to watch me fall asleep in your bed?”
Harry’s mouth waters. “Oh, I’m gonna eat it, baby,” he promises, kicking off his own shoes and crossing the room, making space for himself on the bed next to Louis’ hips. “Put some babies in you, you know how it is.”
“Ooh, you’re really going all out today,” Louis says, looking up at Harry from underneath his eyelashes. He knows exactly what that look does to Harry, coy and sultry at the same time, and Harry’s heart beats with fondness.
“Only the best for my boy,” Harry says, tugging at the waist of Louis’ jeans. “Make you come good, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before going for Louis’ fly, undoing it with practiced ease.
What can he say. He has a lot of practice undoing the trousers of squirmy boys.
Louis. He has a lot of practice undoing Louis’ trousers.
“You fucking better,” Louis says, lifting his hips to make it easier, and then stripping his own shirt off as an afterthought. Harry follows his lead and gets himself naked as well.
“Belly or back?” Harry asks, unable to resist the urge to curl his fingers around Louis’ cock and give him a few firm strokes, root to tip. Louis is hard in his hands, cock smooth and silky.
Louis considers it, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Back,” he decides, making room for Harry to lie down between his legs. “And you better give me a couple of fingers as well, or else I’m gonna be mad at you.”
Harry knows how to fuck him. Harry knows how to fuck him better than he’s ever been fucked by anyone else in his entire life, but neither of them needs to hear it out loud to know that it’s true.
“Okay, baby,” is all he says, hunkering down between Louis’ spread thighs and getting them up around his shoulders. He spreads Louis’ cheeks apart and spends a second just looking at him - not too long, because Louis will fidget and complain as if he doesn’t like it - before putting his mouth on him.
Soft, gentle kisses make Louis squirm the same way that looking at him does, but Harry can’t resist, dragging his mouth over Louis’ hole and getting him damp before licking him properly, over his rim until he hears Louis’ breathing hitch. “Taste good,” he murmurs, rubbing his fingers over Louis’ skin.
“Yeah?” Louis asks, tangling a hand in Harry’s hair and nudging him closer to his hole.
“So fucking good,” Harry agrees, nudging a knuckle against Louis’ rim. “Could do this to you all night.”
He’s not exaggerating. Louis tastes amazing and he could do this all night, no questions asked, until his mouth is sore and his tongue is numb and all he can do is let Louis move against it, get himself off over and over.
He’s nowhere near there yet, so he licks more firmly, flattening his tongue and easing it past Louis’ rim, into the tight clenching heat of his hole.
“Harry,” Louis sighs, tugging on the hair in his grasp. He sounds so fucking pleased, happy, and Harry wants him to sound like that all the time. He keeps eating Louis out, working him open slow and steady, getting him nice and wet, spit sliding down his chin. It’s messy and amazing, and Harry really has no plans to give him a finger until he asks for it.
Luckily Louis asks for it.
“Finger,” he gasps, squirming on Harry’s tongue, dragging his fingers through Harry’s hair, behind his ear. “Gimme a finger, Harry, please.”
Lube would be helpful. Harry keeps working his tongue while he searches for it blindly, groping around underneath the bed until he comes across a mostly empty tube and snicks it open, coating three fingers liberally without looking at the bottle.
“My gorgeous boy,” Harry mumbles, rubbing his fingers over Louis’ hole slowly, enjoying the way Louis’ hips rock down, trying to chase them.
“Harry,” Louis whines, gripping Harry’s hair tighter. Harry suppresses a laugh and eases his index finger inside, slipping past Louis’ rim easily, still soaked with his spit. He’s wet on the inside as well, and normally when Harry eats him out he keeps doing it even as he’s fingering him, because Louis goes fucking crazy for it.
Right now he wants to make sure that Louis completely, one hundred percent understands exactly how much Harry loves him, though, so he just presses another kiss to his rim before sitting back on his knees.
“One of the things I love most about you is that you mutter to yourself when you do chores,” Harry starts, adding a second finger easily. “Like, you sing little nonsense to yourself, did you know that? When you’re doing laundry and stuff.”
Louis blinks at him, lips parted, showing off the wet pink insides of his mouth. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Harry tells him, rubbing the pads of his fingertips over Louis’ prostate. Louis hisses and arches into it, pliant and falling apart in Harry’s hands.
Harry intends to take good care of him. He always does.
Louis’ heel thuds against his back lightly. “Okay, if you’re gonna tell me the reasons you love me I’m gonna need you to make them sexier,” he says.
“What, you singing about the dish soap while you’re scrubbing a pot isn’t sexy to you?” Harry asks, not letting his fingers slow, because he’s good at multi-tasking. “It is to me.”
“Yes, well, the way I walk up stairs is sexy to you,” Louis says. He probably means it to be sharp but it doesn’t sound like that at all, soft and sweet because Harry’s still fingering him.
The way he walks up stairs is sexy - the way he shakes his arse just the tiniest bit more when he knows Harry’s watching him especially so. “It’s so sexy,” Harry tells him, rubbing a third finger against Louis’ rim but not pushing it in. “Fucking love your arse, baby.”
“If you love it so much you should put a third finger in it,” Louis says. His muscles jump underneath Harry’s hand as he lays his palm over Louis’ belly before adding the third finger, next to no resistance because Louis is so relaxed. Harry’s probably going to have to do all the work when he actually gets around to getting his cock in there.
He doesn’t mind.
“I do love it,” Harry says, scissoring his fingers. “I also love your eyes and your smile and the way you always make me a cup of tea when you’re making one for yourself even if I just had one.”
“Sappy,” Louis says accusingly, breathlessly. Harry laughs into his mouth, bent over him just right. He can’t see the way his fingers look anymore, stretching out that tiny little hole, but he can feel it, tight and warm and where his cock wants to be so badly it’s aching.
“So sappy,” Harry agrees, sucking on Louis’ bottom lip just for a brief minute.
“I love the way you make me feel,” Louis murmurs, stroking a finger down the nape of Harry’s neck. Harry’s hips grind forward automatically, seeking out skin, and then he keeps doing it, moving them together the best he can. “Warm and safe and tingly, you know? But if you tell anyone I’ll be forced to key your car.”
Harry might actually be glowing. Louis says it all the time - that he loves Harry - but it’s never not felt like this, perfect and right, the love of his goddamn life telling him he feels the same as Harry does.
“Want to keep it all to myself,” Harry whispers, the words nearly getting lost in Louis’ mouth. “Just the two of us like this for the rest of our lives.”
They’re close enough that he can hear Louis swallow. “What about the babies, though?”
The babies. Harry’s cock jerks. “You want me to put a baby in you right now?” he asks.
“Yes,” Louis says immediately, scratching at Harry’s back. “Gonna fuck me good, my big dicked boyfriend. Gonna give me all the babies I want, keep me knocked up and happy, aren’t you?”
Harry swears into Louis’ mouth and pulls his fingers out of his hole, barely remembering to find a condom and get it on before he’s pushing in, Louis’ legs hooked up around his back. “Fuck you until you’re dripping with it,” he grits out, setting a fast pace, not even giving Louis time to adjust.
If Louis needed it he would definitely make it known. Niall would probably know about it.
“Always know how to take care of me,” Louis says, and they’re just fucking encouraging each other at this point but Harry’s never felt anything better, buried in Louis’ arse and basically being shit talked at, trying to one up each other.
“I do,” Harry agrees, gritting his teeth a little as he fucks Louis harder, trying to make him breathless, speechless, make him come all over his pretty little belly, all over Harry’s chest, satisfy him the way no one but Harry could ever satisfy him. “Take care of you the best I know how and you fucking love it, baby, love knowing that you’re the only one for me.”
One of Louis’ hands plunges down to grip at his cock, pull himself off, and he doesn’t even have a chance to respond before Harry’s continuing, “Knowing that I’m gonna fucking marry you one day, move in with you, get a house together, have babies. You want all of it and you want all of it with me.”
Louis bites at Harry’s bottom lip, making tiny little whimpery noises, and comes, clenching down on Harry’s cock in the best possible way. Strings of come land on his belly, on Harry, and he’s so fucking gorgeous the only thing Harry can do is fuck him harder, for another minute and a half before he’s coming as well, unable to hold it back any more.
Louis strokes his hand over Harry’s hair, practically breathing in tandem, and they’re gross and sweaty and Louis is probably about to demand that Harry pull out, but just for a few more seconds Harry breathes him in and thinks about how incredibly lucky he is.
So fucking lucky.
Louis has this reputation for being a little bit volatile and aggressive if provoked, and Harry absolutely knows where it comes from, because Louis can be a little bit volatile and aggressive if provoked, but for the most part he’s just mischievous and a little unhinged sometimes. He’s funny and sharp and quick witted, and to top all of that off he’s insanely gorgeous.
When James gets within ten feet of him Louis proves exactly why he has that reputation in the first place, sharp wit turning acerbic and biting. Harry honestly doesn’t know why James keeps getting within ten feet of Louis - Louis always sends him packing with his tail between his legs.
Louis is more than capable of taking care of himself, and he doesn’t ask Harry for help, at least not with this particular problem. So when Louis comes striding up to him and jabs him in the chest, hissing, “I’m going to kill him. Harry, I’m literally about to fucking murder him,” there’s something wrong.
Harry catches his wrist absently. If he doesn’t Louis will just keep jabbing him progressively harder, and Harry doesn’t need another bruise. Yesterday he got tackled during practice and it had taken a few minutes to get his breath back, it had been that hard. “Who?”
“Who the fuck do you think, dickhead James,” Louis says, voice nearing a shout. They’re attracting the attention of the people around them, but who the fuck cares about that when Louis is upset.
“Dickhead James?” Harry repeats reflexively. It’s what Louis calls him when he’s not around - and when he is around, sometimes - and Harry’s picked it up. “What did he do?”
“He told me that he could give me a better dicking than you could,” Louis says, and Harry is about to shrug it off, because the entire planet practically knows that’s not true, but Louis adds, “and then he asked me to eat a popsicle while he watched.”
Harry doesn’t get angry all that easily. It’s one of the main differences between him and Louis, and it’s one of the reasons they work so well together - Louis blows up and Harry talks him out of it, and no one gets pranked until they cry despite how much Louis wants to.
Now, though. Now Harry’s blood is burning through his veins, because James has made innuendos before, and made it clear that he wants a chance with Louis, but this is fucking sexual harassment. This is James making an unwanted and unwarranted pass at Harry’s boy and Harry’s going to smash his fucking face in.
James makes the mistake of making an appearance, big ugly head bobbing around, and he’s clearly drunk, smashed off his face, but Harry’s still going to smash his fucking face in.
No one talks to Louis like that when he’s explicitly told them not to.
“Stay here,” Harry says, letting go of Louis’ hands and taking a step in James’ direction.
Louis punches him in the shoulder. “Hey, fuckhead!” he shouts, punching Harry’s shoulder again. “If anyone’s gonna take a swing at him it’s gonna be me. I came over here so you would stop me from doing that!”
“Yes, baby,” Harry agrees grimly, and then he takes another three steps towards James. Louis can be mad at him all he wants, but Harry is still going to punch the douchebag in the face.
“Okay, then!” Justin exclaims, sweeping in out of nowhere and propelling them both out the kitchen door and into the garden, away from most of the noise of the party. “I appreciate the fact that you both want to punch him in the face, and I agree that he’s a complete dick, but I don’t want to have to bail one or both of you out tonight. So I’m going to go back in there and I’m going to get him to leave and tell him that he’s not welcome back, and you two are going to do whatever gross couple stuff you do when you think no one’s paying attention.”
Louis sighs and deflates a little, nodding like that’s the best course of action. Harry can’t stop staring daggers through the glass at James’ giant head until Louis physically turns him, hands on Harry’s biceps. “Say thank you to Justin for keeping us out of jail,” he orders.
“Thank you for keeping us out of jail, Justin,” Harry parrots sullenly, fitting his hands to the curve of Louis’ hips.
“Sometimes I ask myself why I’m friends with either of you,” Justin says to himself, already halfway back inside the house.
“You love us,” Louis calls after him, and Justin flaps a hand and disappears.
“I love you,” Harry says, trying to get Louis’ attention back on him. “Let’s do some gross couple stuff.”
Louis scrunches up his nose, making a face that Harry can’t help but imitate right back at him. “No,” he says, and the amends it. “Well, not unless you can catch me.” He ducks out of Harry’s arms and takes off into the yard, and there’s really nowhere for him to go with the fences and all, but Harry gives chase anyway, pinning him down a exhilarating two minutes later, and they snog in the grass until Justin comes back to tell them that James is gone and hopefully won’t be coming back any time soon.
Justin. What a lad.
“They gave me anesthesia,” Louis says, but the word anesthesia comes out jumbled and just a little bit unintelligible.
Harry resists the urge to laugh and lets Louis tangle their fingers together, bringing them up to kiss Louis’ knuckles. “I know, baby, they told me. The nurse said she’ll be right back with aftercare instructions and then we can go home.”
“I feel weird,” Louis says, slurring a little. Harry squeezes his fingers and smiles at him, reaching out to brush Louis’ hair off of his forehead. “Sleepy.”
“Just the anesthesia, sweetheart,” Harry tells him, letting his hand linger against Louis’ forehead, a little sweaty. He wants to kiss him - really, really wants to kiss him - but Louis’ mouth needs to heal first. The last thing that he wants is to make the healing process take longer.
The nurse comes back in before Louis can answer, and Louis blinks at her, fingers still tangled up in Harry’s. “This is my boyfriend,” he informs her. “He came to pick me up.”
She smiles at Louis. “Yes, darling, you told me this five minutes ago,” she says patiently, and proceeds to tell them both the aftercare instructions, which are just as gross as Harry was expecting.
It doesn’t take long for Harry to get him back to the dorm and settled in his bed, eyes already slipping closed, fingers gripping Harry’s wrist like he thinks that Harry’s going to leave him.
Harry’s going to be at his side for as long as he can get away with. He’s just going to make Louis some tea first, so he kisses Louis’ forehead and heads down the hall to the kitchen, brewing it just the way Louis likes before returning, two steaming cups in his hands.
Louis’ almost asleep, sprawled out across the bed in a way that leaves next to no room for Harry, but Harry has plenty of experience making room for himself on Louis’ bed, so he’s not too worried about it. “Brought you tea,” Harry says quietly, in case Louis does actually want to sleep.
Louis cracks an eye open and shifts over just enough that Harry can sit down. “Want ice cream,” he mumbles sullenly, reaching out for the tea.
Of course he does. It’s just like him to want ice cream right after Harry’s sat down.
“Okay,” Harry says, and goes to get him his ice cream.
Louis is fully asleep by the time he gets back, mug tipping at a precarious angle. Harry rescues it before it can actually spill and makes a second trip to return the ice cream to the freezer, coming back to Louis curled in on himself on top of the blankets. He stirs when Harry pulls them out from underneath him, blinking slowly, a little dazed.
If he hadn’t just had his wisdom teeth out Harry might get him off like that, while he’s still sleepy and easily malleable. As it is he just pulls Louis’ socks and shoes off of his feet and then spoons him before pulling the blankets back up, and Harry isn’t really tired but he still finds his eyes closing within a couple of minutes.
He doesn’t think that he can be blamed. Louis smells good, and it’s nice and toasty in the bed, and there’s a bundle of warm boy in his arms. Harry has nothing to complain about.
“Come on, come on,” Louis mutters, gripping Liam’s hand so tight that Liam might actually be wincing. Louis would look but he can’t tear his eyes away from the field, from where Harry’s about to get himself tackled by three huge, sweaty lads.
“Jesus, Lou,” Liam says, trying to rip his hand out of Louis’ grip. Louis hangs on tighter, biting at the thumbnail of his other hand. He doesn’t even realize that he’s up on his toes, trying to get a better view.
“C’mon, arsehole, avoid it, avoid it,” Louis says, and lets go of Liam’s hand in favour of punching the air as Harry pulls a move straight out of a film and neatly avoids the three guys and scores, winning the game.
Admist all the cheering and celebration going on, admist being tackled by his teammates, Harry looks up, looks into the crowd, and gives Louis the same tiny little smirk he always does when he knows he’s done something that Louis can’t help but be impressed by, confident and knowing.
Louis is going to kill him.
Probably not until after they’ve had sex in the locker room again, but Louis is going to kill him.
He remembers his sign just in time to be in Harry’s line of sight, and he makes Liam hold one side of it so it’s really got a good height going on, and enjoys the way reading it makes Harry scowl and smile all at the same time.
Harry keeps insisting that Harry Styles sucks (but if you win you can do me anyway) is inappropriate, but Louis thinks that Harry just doesn’t know the meaning of inappropriate. Maybe next time he’ll make a sign that says Harry Styles sucks now eat me out. Imagine the look on Harry’s face then.
“It’s like you actually do want him to snap and murder you,” Liam says, letting his side of the sign drop.
Louis chews at his lip and ignores the heat of Harry’s gaze, still pinned on him despite the commotion going on down on the field. “The only way that Harry could ever murder me would be to accidentally fuck me to death. I’m not too worried about it.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to hear about your sex life,” Liam complains, but Louis isn’t really listening. He’s too busy watching the field empty, the team making their way to the locker room.
“Okay, Liam, listen up,” Louis says, turning his attention back to Liam. “Your only job now is to take care of my sign until I come to pick it up in a couple of days. Understand?”
Liam’s sigh is heavy. “It’s a fucking sign, Lou, you make a new one for every game.”
“Do you understand, Liam?” Louis enunciates, because clearly Liam didn’t get it the first time.
"Fine, whatever,” Liam mutters, practically ripping the sign out of Louis’ hands. “Go and have weird sex with your boyfriend, see if I care. It’s not like we were supposed to have dinner or anything.”
Liam’s such a crybaby sometimes, honestly. “You were the one who invited Sophia to dinner, Payno, you know you would have just ignored me the entire time anyway.”
“I would not,” Liam protests, and they spend the next ten minutes arguing about who’s a better friend, which, obviously it’s Louis, come on. He’s the best friend.
Either way, by the time Louis’ finished shutting Liam up and making his way to the locker room, Harry’s the only one there, waiting on one of the benches with his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. He’s naked save for a towel wrapped around his waist, already completely dry, and Louis would feel bad for taking so long but someone has to put Liam in his place and if not Louis then who would do it?
"Thought you weren’t gonna show,” Harry says, eyes still closed. Louis shrugs to himself and takes advantage of it, flicking the button of his jeans open and wiggling his way out of them.
“Have you ever known me to turn down an opportunity to get your cock?” Louis asks, pushing his sleeves up his arms before clambering his way onto Harry’s lap, not even bothering to shove the towel out of the way.
Harry’s hands come up to grip Louis’ hips automatically, eyes opening. “Only every time you get distracted by literally anything else,” he says, gaze sweeping down Louis’ body. “You look nice.”
“‘m sitting in your lap wearing your jersey and nothing else and the only thing you have to say is you look nice?” Louis asks, arching his eyebrows. “You’re lucky that I’m not going to break up with you.”
“Wouldn’t break up with me before you get my cock one last time,” Harry murmurs, inching his hands up underneath the jersey to stroke over Louis’ bare sides.
Louis wiggles a little, pleased with the way Harry’s cock feels under his bum, already hard and ready. “Dunno. I’ve heard good things about break up sex.”
Harry hums something that’s not quite a response, catching Louis’ mouth in a kiss that’s entirely too sweet for this setting, slow and languid, like they have all the time in the world.
Louis’ been wearing this jersey for the past three hours, though, and it’s been hard not to think about what Harry’s face would look like when he fucked Louis in it, so they really don’t have all the time in the world.
Plus Louis came prepared, so.
“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Louis says, breaking the kiss. He leans over to rummage through Harry’s gym bag until he finds a half-empty tube of lube. He presses it into Harry’s hand impatiently, pinching at one of Harry’s nipples just because he can.
“You’re so sweet to me,” Harry says, but he presses a finger against Louis’ hole, slipping in easily.
Louis wasn’t joking about coming prepared.
“God,” Harry sighs, sinking a second finger in even though he doesn’t actually have to - Louis was very thorough. A little bit more lube in him and some slicked onto Harry’s cock would have done the trick. “Came to get fucked in my jersey and even prepped yourself. Never thought I’d be this lucky.”
Louis wets his lips and drops his head down onto his arm, resting on Harry’s shoulder, trying to ignore the frantic beating of his own heart. Harry’s fingers feel so fucking good inside of him, thick and pressing up against all the best spots, and he’s already a little bit too hot but taking off the jersey doesn’t even occur to him. He’s Harry’s and Harry’s going to fuck him with his name and number stitched across Louis’ back.
“Not going to be lucky if you don’t hurry up,” Louis says, letting his eyes flutter closed as Harry strokes his fingers over Louis’ prostate, cock jerking in between their bellies.
“Okay, baby,” Harry says quietly, slipping his fingers out and fumbling around for a few seconds, then his cock is nudging up against Louis’ hole, pressing in smooth and slow. His hands are all over Louis’ back, big and warm and possessive, and for a minute Louis can barely breathe, too full of cock to even try.
Two seconds in and Louis already feels like he might come.
“Love your cock,” Louis slurs, picking his head up and bracing his hands on Harry’s arms and he starts to move, slow because he already feels like he can barely handle it, almost too full of cock.
“Love that you love my cock,” Harry answers, helping Louis move, keeping that same slow pace, hands sure on Louis’ body. “Love that you think having sex in a men’s locker room is a turn-on.”
Louis licks his lower lip and moves a little faster, unable to help himself when he’s got the unrelenting press of Harry’s cock inside of him, stretching him open, making him feel good. “Feels like you think it’s a turn-on, too.”
“Anything that gets my dick into your arse is a turn-on,” Harry says, entirely too honestly. Louis flushes a little and bounces faster, knees a little sore from the bench. He can barely even feel it, though, tightening in his belly too good to really concentrate on it.
“Do I have the best arse you’ve ever seen?” Louis asks, dropping one hand and curling it around his own cock, tugging gently. He’s going to come so soon.
“Baby, you have the best arse I’ve ever seen, felt, and eaten,” Harry says, gripping him by the back of his neck and guiding him back into a kiss, and that’s how Louis comes, full of his boyfriend’s cock, big hands touching him, being kissed a little desperately, like Harry wants him to come so he can come.
He probably does, but Louis is too busy falling apart in his hands to really think about it, practically dripping come by the time he’s finished, wet and shivery.
Sometimes he thinks that Harry’s cock is a godsend. He’ll never say it out loud, because Harry’s ego is already big enough, but seriously. Louis worships that dick.
"You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry says, holding Louis against his chest as he pumps his hips faster, doing all the work now that Louis’ gone boneless.
Louis’ biggest secret might be how much he likes that Harry keeps fucking him after he’s come but gets a little sloppier about it, like once he’s made sure Louis gets his it doesn’t even matter how Harry gets his own. Louis pets Harry’s hair a little, smushing his face against Harry’s collarbone, fingertips a little tingly. He can barely even feel any discomfort at all, now, focused on the slick slide of Harry’s cock in his arse, on Harry’s hands holding him tight, on Harry’s raspy breathing.
“You’re so good to me,” Louis murmurs, shifting a little. The fabric of the jersey rubs against Harry’s skin, probably a little itchy. “Take care’a me so good.”
“Most important thing, taking care of you,” Harry says, and he might just be saying it because he’s about to come but Louis’ chest is warm and light anyway, always happy to be the center of Harry’s attention.
“Good,” Louis says, closing his eyes. He can feel it as Harry starts coming, holding Louis down on his cock, throbbing inside of him, and there’s still a condom in between them but he’d bet that Harry’s thinking about it, about how it would feel to fill Louis up with nothing in between them.
Louis has plans to make that happen one day. One day very soon.
Harry’s quiet for a minute, getting his breath back. Louis doesn’t make any attempts to move, and doesn’t make any attempts to help when Harry finally goes to lift him off a couple of minutes later, or any attempts to help as Harry tries to coax him back into his pants.
He’s sleepy and he’s gonna make Harry carry him to a bed, and it doesn’t matter whose bed it is, even, but first - ”I love you.”
“Right back atcha,” Harry says, catching Louis’ mouth for a few nice, sweet minutes, and Louis doesn’t try to help as he struggles to get back into his own clothes without knocking him off of his lap.
Louis has done enough work for the day.
Harry’s mixing a couple of rather dubious drinks, adding a splash of pineapple juice to what’s mostly tequila when Niall barrels into his back. “Lou’s asking for you,” he half-shouts directly into Harry’s ear.
Harry contemplates the drinks and adds another splash of juice just to be on the safe side. Louis probably won’t notice either way but now he’ll taste like pineapple when Harry kisses him. “What does he want?”
“What does Louis ever want?” Niall says, shrugging against Harry’s back. “Attention, probably.”
Harry chugs a mouthful of the drink and winces a little before deciding that it’ll do. “Okay,” he says, pressing one of the drinks into Niall’s hands before wandering off in the general direction he last saw Louis in.
There’s a lot of noise coming from the dining room, so Harry changes direction and heads there, and of course the first thing he sees is Louis sitting on a chair on top of a table.
Because that’s a thing that makes sense.
“Harold,” Louis calls imperiously, beckoning him closer. Harry obliges and hands him the drink, curling one hand around his ankle, just in case.
“Should I even ask where you got the crown from or do I not want to know?” Harry asks. Louis reaches up and adjusts his crown like he’s forgotten that it’s even there, smoothing his hair out of his eyes.
“I told the pledges that the first person who finds me a crown is getting your vote,” Louis says dismissively, taking a sip of the drink. “Mmm, pineapple.”
“Of course you did,” Harry says, nudging his fingers up underneath the hem of Louis’ jeans. “You wanna come down from there?”
Louis rolls his eyes. “This is my throne, Harold, this is where I deserve to be. You can give me a foot massage, though. I’ll allow it.”
“Oh, you’ll allow it,” Harry says, amused, and presses a close-mouthed kiss just below Louis’ knee. “I’m sorry, my liege, I didn’t realize that I was falling behind on my duties.”
Louis wiggles a little. Harry clutches onto the chair, just to make sure that it isn’t in any danger of wobbling off of the table. “Well, you are,” he says haughtily, dropping a hand onto the top of Harry’s head. “As my humble manservant you should be eager to do everything that I tell you.”
Harry makes a considering noise and tightens his grip on Louis’ ankle. “And what would you have me do right now?”
“I want another drink,” Louis decides, planting one foot in the center of Harry’s chest and pushing a little. “Get me a drink, slave.”
“But of course, my love,” Harry murmurs, kissing Louis’ leg again before he lets go and straightens up. He’s about to turn away to fetch Louis’ drink when Louis’ voice stops him.
“Wait,” he says, kicking at Harry’s side.
“What now?” Harry asks, as patiently as he can manage.
“Gimme a kiss,” Louis demands, toeing at Harry’s side. That’s a demand that Harry can work with, and he nearly pulls Louis off the table entirely as he obliges. Louis does taste like pineapple, and it’s really fucking sweet.
Louis nudging him harder than necessary is the opposite of really fucking sweet. “Go get my drink, wench,” he orders, and Harry leaves, mouthing wench? to himself.
He’s nearly finished mixing another even more dubious drink when a body drapes itself across his back, warm and small. “You giving up your throne, then?” Harry asks, kissing the inside of Louis’ elbow before going back to the mixing.
“Decided that your cock can be my throne,” Louis answers. He must be up on his tip toes in order to be hanging off of Harry like this.
“You do like sitting on it enough,” Harry muses, taking a sip of the drink. He immediately makes a face and puts it down to add more apple juice to it.
“I wanna dance,” Louis says, doing some sort of weird shimmy up against Harry’s back. “Want you to dip me.”
Harry laughs and downs a mouthful of the drink. “You’re not scared that I’ll drop you?”
Louis shrugs, wiggling his fingers in front of Harry’s face. “If you drop me I just won’t sit on your dick when we go upstairs.”
“Oh no, I’m so scared,” Harry says, pulling Louis’ arms down so he can turn around. “This isn’t even the type of music I can dip you to.”
Louis contemplates that for a second. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” He surges up and smacks an entirely too hard kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth before taking off, people weaving like an expert. He’s only wobbling a little, so Harry leaves him to his own devices and looks at the glass in his hand for about two seconds before shrugging to himself and downing the rest of it. Chances are Louis will have forgotten about asking for another drink anyway.
He gives Louis two minutes before he wanders after him, just to make sure that he’s not doing something weird like convincing random strangers to mix their drinks together and then try to light them on fire. That’s a mess Harry doesn’t want to have to deal with tonight.
He finds Louis by the sound system set-up, presumably trying to convince the DJ to change the track to something Harry can dip him to. The DJ isn’t someone Harry’s ever met before, and he looks like he’s not about to give in, so Harry hurries up a little and coaxes Louis away before the guy can get it into his head to really start an argument.
“C’mon, baby,” Harry says, pulling Louis away with his hands linked on Louis’ belly.
“Hey,” Louis says, but it’s not in protest to Harry leading him away.
“Yeah?” Harry asks, skimming his mouth up along Louis’ neck.
“On a scale of one to ten how much do you love me?”
Harry considers the question carefully, sucking a bruise underneath Louis’ jaw. “I love you so much that I’m willing to put up with your nasty habit of leaving crumbs in the bed every time you get hungry.”
Louis wiggles around in Harry’s arms and waits until he’s finished to roll his eyes. “That’s not a very nice compliment.”
“I love your bum,” Harry says, and dips Louis before he has a chance to answer.
Louis is laughing by the time Harry pulls him back up, clutching at his shoulders. “You’re the worst.”
“By that do you mean you love me so much it actually hurts sometimes?” Harry wonders, tucking them back together tightly and swaying slowly, much slower than the beat of the song would suggest.
“That’s the gist of it,” Louis agrees, tucking his head against Harry’s shoulder. “Will you make me pancakes in the morning?”
“I’ll make you whatever you want in the morning,” Harry says, putting a hand in the small of Louis’ back.
“Will you give me a massage when we go upstairs?” Louis presses, swaying gently in the circle of Harry’s arms.
Harry would do a lot of things to get his hands on Louis’ body, including giving him an hour long massage, and Louis knows it. “Baby, I’ll massage you without even expecting to get sex out of it if that’s what you want.”
“Good,” Louis says, satisfied, and it’s quiet for a minute, despite the noise of the party going on around them.
Then, “Even my bum?”
Harry scoffs. “Like I need a reason to touch your bum.”
“Good,” Louis repeats, tucking his head back underneath Harry’s chin. He’ll probably deny this all in the morning, but that doesn’t matter.
He definitely won’t forget that Harry promised him pancakes, though, so that’s Harry’s morning sorted.
It’s barely even five in the morning, and Louis doesn’t even want to be alive at this time in the morning, much less awake, but the persistent throbbing between his legs had become too much to ignore, and to his sleep-muddy brain the only logical solution had been to swing a leg over Harry’s hips and settle down on top of his cock.
Obviously there had been a few steps in between, but not nearly as many as there would have been if they hadn’t have fucked last night just before they fell asleep. It had barely even taken any work to get himself open enough that he could just slide down on Harry’s cock with almost no effort, and Harry’s cock has like this instinct for when Louis is fingering himself, so Harry was already hard by the time he opened his eyes.
Louis still feels bone tired, and Harry looks exhausted, like he feels the same, but this feels good, rocking gently on Harry’s cock with the sheets still tangled around them, Harry’s hands spread out over his hips. It feels full and entirely too pleasant, and Louis’ cock wants him to go faster but he’s not sure that his body can manage it.
“Y’alright?” Harry asks, voice raspy and barely more than a whisper. He skims his thumb over Louis’ hipbone, the touch fleeting and soft.
He’s asking if Louis wants him to take over, if Louis is too tired for this, and he kind of does, because nothing will ever feel like getting fucked by Harry on his back when the only thing he has to do is take it, but if Louis is tired from the night they had then Harry must be downright comatose. Last night might have been the most athletic sex they’ve ever had, and they’ve had tons of athletic sex, and that was following an actual athletic rugby game that Harry played, and that was before an after-party celebration during which Louis made Harry carry four different people up and down a flight of stairs just to prove that he could.
“No,” Louis answers, laying his hands on top of Harry’s and rising up a bit more, giving them a little more friction. “S’good, yeah?”
“S’really good, baby,” Harry agrees, nudging his hips up a little anyway, falling into Louis’ rhythm easily.
It’s quiet in the room for a couple of minutes, the only sounds their combined breathing and the slide of skin on skin. It’s much quieter than their sex normally is, and Louis likes that Harry talks to him when they have sex, likes how Harry talks to him when they have sex, and his skin is a little itchy with from the lack of it, but before he can say something the door creaks open, fast and loud.
Louis freezes. Harry remembers how to move before Louis does, yanking the sheets up over Louis’ back and bundling them together at his chest, leaving him more or less covered.
“Hey, Styles, Justin told me to ask you if you’re going to replace the milk or if you’re just going to pretend like you didn’t finish the last of it until he kills you,” the guy says. Louis stays very still and doesn’t give in to the urge to turn around and rip the guy’s head off.
”What is he doing,” he hisses at Harry, trying to ignore the fact that Harry’s cock hasn’t flagged even the slightest bit, still thick and hard inside of him and oh jesus Louis is going to die impaled on cock. He always knew that this was how he would go.
I don’t know, Harry mouths back, eyes wide and shocked. His grip gets a little tighter on the sheets.
How do these things always happen to them. Some pledge that Louis doesn’t even know the name of is currently watching them have sex, and Louis isn’t in for that. Public sex is only fun if no one’s actually watching them have sex.
“Get him out of here,” Louis hisses. He’s sat on his boyfriend’s dick and he wants to come but there’s fucking absolutely no way he’s going to do that until they’re alone.
“Oh, hey, Louis, didn’t even know you were here,” the guy continues, oblivious or actually fucking with them, Louis doesn’t even know. “What’s going on?”
“Are you serious right now?” Louis demands, twisting to look over his shoulder. Harry’s cock jabs against his prostate, so fucking good Louis has to push up a little to escape the pressure. “Get the fuck out.”
“I just - ” the guy starts.
Harry clears his throat, patting Louis’ thigh with one hand and not letting go of the sheets with his other. “Mate, you know who Louis is, right?”
“Yeah,” the guy says. He sounds confused.
“Right,” Harry says. He grips Louis’ thigh a bit harder when Louis moves and shoots him a look, like stop moving, but that’s way more fucking difficult than it sounds, what with ten inches of prime cock stuffed up his arse and nothing he can do about it. “Well, I’ve been dating Louis for nearly two years now and I lavaliered him about six months ago and I still wake up with with multi-coloured hair and sharpie scribbles all over me a few times a month. It’s in your best interests to do what he says.”
“Okay,” the kid says weakly, backing up a few steps.
“And close the door behind you,” Louis adds. The door snicks closed quietly, and he can finally, finally turn his attention back to where it belongs.
Harry’s staring at him, sheets still bunched up in his fist, hair slightly damp with sweat at his roots, and he looks like he wants to devour Louis completely. “You’re so fucking hot when you boss people around like that.”
Louis licks his lower lip and pries the sheets out of Harry’s hand, letting them flutter down and land wherever they wish. “Want me to order you around like that?”
Harry smiles, teeth white in the dimness of the room. “Baby, you order me around like that nearly every second of the day. The only time that you don’t order me around like that is when we’re having sex.”
“I could order you around like that when we have sex if you want,” Louis says, planting his hands on Harry’s abs and pushing himself up, trying to get back into the slow, smooth rhythm he had going on before they were so rudely interrupted.
He’s so much more awake now, though, and that slow, easy shit isn’t cutting it anymore, not after he’s been sitting on Harry’s cock for this long with his orgasm trembling in his belly. He moves a little faster, concentrating on pushing himself up and then sinking back down, getting his fill of Harry’s cock, and he doesn’t even see the move coming.
“No you couldn’t,” Harry murmurs, covering Louis completely as his back hits the mattress, already bending down to kiss him, even as he starts moving faster than Louis had been. “You always start off demanding and confrontational but you never manage to keep that up. Love the way you get shaky and overwhelmed, baby, and that you don’t even care how we’re having sex as long as I’m making you feel good.”
He’s completely right, and Louis has never been ashamed of the way Harry makes him unbelievably needy when they fuck, but he still makes a mental note to add more itching powder to Harry’s shampoo. Needs must, and all that.
He’s also going to make Louis come any second now, so Louis manages to get his arms up around Harry’s neck and kisses him again, tongues sliding slick and wet together, Harry’s cock moving thick and hot inside of him, and Louis is going to come.
“You love me, yeah?” Louis mumbles, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair. He can barely even get the words out around Harry’s mouth, but he manages.
“I don’t think it would be possible for me to love you more, baby,” Harry answers, fingers slipping down to close around Louis’ cock, and that’s all it takes for Louis to start coming, pulsing hot and wet between their bodies. He rides out his orgasm happily with Harry’s cock still stuffed inside of him, shocky and sensitive, and only feels better when Harry comes, burying his face in Louis’ shoulder.
Harry pulls out before Louis is entirely ready for him to, but he makes up for it by immediately slipping two fingers back into Louis’ hole, and it’s not quite the same as having Harry’s cock slowly go limp inside of him but it’s really fucking nice regardless.
“I love you too, you know,” Louis tells him, drawing his fingers over the fine hairs on the back of Harry’s neck.
“I do know that,” Harry says, taking a hold of Louis’ hand with his free one and tangling their fingers together. “S’why I’m going to help you prank that pledge until he never even thinks about coming in here without knocking again.”
Louis has the best guy. The best guy.
“I don’t know why I keep letting you talk me into these things,” Liam laments. He rises up from his crouch when Louis shoves at his back and they make the sprint over to the house, sliding up and flattening themselves against the outside wall.
They blend in with the darkness of the night. Louis is so proud of his decision to force Liam to wear all black. “It’s because I’m the best and you’re slightly afraid of what I’d do to you if you didn’t go along with it."
He peers into the house and sees no movement, no lights. Seems like everyone’s gone to bed early. "One of these days you’re going to get us arrested,” Liam mutters, but he follows when Louis leads him towards the house’s pathway, and he accepts the chalk that Louis hands him without even pretending like he’s not going to.
“Don’t worry, Harry will bail me out,” Louis says, sinking down to the ground gracefully and spreading his own chalk out around himself. “I dunno about you, but I’m covered.”
Liam makes an obvious choice to ignore that. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t get Zayn to do this with you, it’s much more him than it is me.”
“It’s just dicks, Liam, it’s not like we’re painting the Mona Lisa,” Louis says, exasperated, and gets to work.
“Well, forgive me if I don’t have the same amount of experience with dick as you do,” Liam mutters, but he drops down onto his knees and starts working regardless, and they’re in the middle of an argument about Louis’ perfectly normal amount of dick exposure when Harry’s voice comes floating out from behind them.
“Does it really count if he sees a lot of dick on a daily basis but it’s the same two dicks?” Harry wonders, putting a hand on the back of Louis’ neck and squeezing lightly. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Louis keeps working. “That’s a perfectly normal amount of dick, Harold,” he says, drawing his biggest dick yet.
“I really hate it when you two talk about dick like this,” Liam mutters. “It always sounds vaguely like the beginning of a bad porno.”
Louis scoffs. “Please, Liam, our sex sounds nothing like this,” he says, leaning back into Harry’s hand.
Liam shudders. “I know exactly what your sex sounds like, Lou, and I have nightmares about it every single day.”
“Hey, our sex is beautiful,” Harry interjects. “I’d even go so far as to describe it as majestic.”
“Calling him baby and telling him that you like how his skin feels sounds more serial killer-ish than majestic,” Liam says.
Harry sinks down onto his knees next to Louis and lets his hand slide down Louis’ back and stop just above the swell of his bum. “He does have a thing for biting,” Louis says thoughtfully, leaning back to admire the bouquet of dicks he’s just drawn.
“Mm, how can I help it when you smell like this,” Harry murmurs, pressing his face into Louis’ hair.
“You like it?” Louis asks blandly.
“Makes me wanna eat you up,” Harry says. He might mean it to be quiet but it comes out loud enough that Liam gags.
Louis tucks his chalk back into its bag. “I showered at Liam’s and I stole his shampoo and cologne. Basically you just said that you want to fuck Liam.”
Harry jerks back. Liam’s gagging gets louder. “No you didn’t,” Harry says, horrified.
Louis pats Harry’s knee and uses it to shove himself up. “I didn’t, but it would have been fucking hilarious if I did.”
Louis is sweating. He doesn’t even know why he’s sweating, considering that all he’s wearing is a pair of shorts and one of Harry’s tanks that’s about three sizes too big on him, but he’s sweating. It’s not even like it’s their first holiday together, for chrisstakes - they spent Christmas together last year, and that was with both of their families, and that’s much more intimidating than this is. There’s really no reason for this excess amount of sweat to be coming off of Louis’ body.
There’s especially no reason for him to be this sweaty considering that he just took a shower, but he is, and his heart is racing a little in his chest. It’s not even like this is going to be that nice - it’s just a couple of burgers and some beer and a present in the form of that edible body butter stuff, which is really more of a present for Louis than it is for Harry.
It’s just. This is their first Valentine’s Day together - no matter what Harry keeps insisting about last year - and they agreed that they weren’t going to do anything big, but Louis still wants it to go well. He just. He loves Harry, alright, and sometimes his instinct is to fuck with him instead of tell him that, but if there’s any day that he shouldn’t do that it’s today. Maybe. If any of that made sense.
Harry’s exactly on time, opening the door at six on the dot, and he’s not dressed up either, but he still looks really nice, in jeans and a shirt that’s barely even buttoned up, and Louis is about to swallow his pride and tell him that when Harry’s entire face screws up and he bursts out laughing.
And doesn’t stop.
“What?” Louis demands. Harry’s almost literally doubled over, clutching at his sides, and by the time he stops laughing there’s tears in the corners of his eyes.
“I really thought that you looked in the mirror more often,” Harry manages, coming inside and closing the door behind him. He looks like he’s about to burst out laughing again at any second, so Louis whirls around and catches sight of himself in the mirror above Harry’s dresser and.
“Did you do this?” he demands, voice shrill. His hand reaches up to touch his hair without his permission, coming away dry and clean because the neon pink that’s in his hair is fucking hair dye.
What the fuck.
“Don’t be mad,” Harry says, bumping up against Louis’ back and wrapping his arms around his chest. “It looks good on you.”
“Of course it looks good on me, Harold, everything looks good on me,” Louis snaps, struggling weakly in Harry’s arms. “I can’t believe you’re such a fucking dick.”
Harry noses at the spot just behind his ear that he fucking knows always makes Louis go weak, and murmurs, “Why’re you so hot right now?”
For a split second, Louis thinks that Harry’s talking about his general existence, but then one of Harry’s hands slips down to palm over his crotch, squeezing Louis’ cock nice and tight. Louis can’t help arching into it, putty in Harry’s hands just from a single touch.
“I think it’s because you get turned on when I prank you,” Harry continues, thrusting his own hips up against Louis’ arse. “Think you love it when I challenge you, baby.”
Louis does love it when Harry pranks him back, and he loves it when Harry lets it escalate until one of them breaks and they fuck somewhere entirely inappropriate, but still. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Harry.”
“It is Valentine’s Day,” Harry agrees, trailing hot, wet kisses along the side of Louis’ throat. “And I know you got me a present that I’m going to love just as much as you love the present that I got you.”
Louis considers it. His hair is bright pink, and who knows how long that dye is going to last for, but there’s nothing he would rather have than a guy who knows him this fucking well. “You know that I’m going to kick your arse so much tomorrow, right?”
“Lookin’ forward to it, baby,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ cock a little tighter, and Louis is already thinking of revenge as he turns around and shoves Harry down onto the bed to give him a proper present.
He’s thinking snakes.