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Harry’s not there after the show. Alberto tells Louis this with a little grimace on his face that says exactly how much he knows about why Harry isn’t there. Louis calls upon years of media training to school his face into something unremarkable, nods, and then goes to take a shower. It’s the most obvious thing he could have done, but he doesn’t care, not really. Not when tonight’s the night.
Anticipation is like a warm buzz in his veins during the ride to the hotel. It’s early, still, or at least early by touring standards, and he has the next thirty-six hours off. Nothing is scheduled until the show the day after tomorrow.
The boys are with him in the lift, being rowdy and loud. Louis can’t pay much attention to them, fingers shaking so much he has to tuck them into his pockets to hide it. He goes to step out after them when the lift comes to a stop, doors open, only to get pulled back inside gently by Alberto, who just shakes his head when Louis looks at him.
They go up another three floors before the lift stops again. Louis follows Alberto out, down the hallway, and gets let into a room that isn’t part of the block they’d booked. He steps inside, closes the door behind him and locks it before he lets himself look.
Candles are scattered everywhere, soft light flickering off their wicks. They’re unscented, mostly, although Louis thinks he catches a whiff of vanilla coming from somewhere. All the actual lights are off, bathing the room in a soft glow. Harry’s standing in the middle of the room, hands behind his back, wearing jeans and the Ramones t-shirt Louis bought him. His feet are bare.
Honestly, Louis is kind of surprised he’s not entirely naked.
“Are you going to sacrifice me to some pagan god or something?”
There are a lot of candles in here. Louis is just saying.
The room is too big to be just that. It must be a suite, has double doors leading to somewhere. It’s a little intimidating, how much thought Harry put into this.
“You look amazing,” Harry says, ignoring Louis’ concern. He sounds a little helpless as he says it, still standing in the middle of the room, rocking back on his heels.
Louis picked out these clothes especially for him. He glances down at himself, taking in the jeans – his best ones, the ones that frame his arse just right – and the blazer, properly fitted, black, and a glimpse of the shirt. It’s one of Harry’s, silky and white, almost sheer, tucked into his jeans, and it has Styles embroidered in tiny script over the top left collarbone. He took the time to do his hair before leaving the venue, despite knowing that Harry’s hands are going to mess it up in no time, and he knows what he looks like. Knows the parts of his body these particular clothes frame, making him look small and put together, and he doesn’t mind.
“Thank you,” Louis says, taking a couple steps towards him. “You’re not going to ritual murder me, right? There’s a lot of candles in here.”
“This,” Harry says, sweeping a hand out to gesture towards the room, “is romance, Louis Tomlinson.” He’s still wearing all of his jewelry, a million rings and his necklace, might even have a bracelet or two on. He got ready for this night just like Louis did, put on the t-shirt Louis bought him because he knows what Louis likes just as much as Louis knows what Harry likes.
“It’s dead romantic,” Louis agrees, stepping closer. “I definitely don’t feel like I’m about to be sacrificed at all.”
Like he’s been shocked into it, Harry starts moving too, coming towards Louis much faster than Louis had been walking. They’re on a collision course, one that’ll hurt if they actually make contact, and Louis doesn’t care. He’s been waiting too long for this already.
“I’m gonna wait until after the sex at least,” Harry says, holding his hands out and grabbing Louis as soon as he’s close enough, pulling him in those last few inches so their bodies come together. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
He fingers the collar of it like he’s making a point, like maybe Louis isn’t aware of what he’s wearing, like he thinks Louis put it on for any other purpose than making Harry’s cock hard. Louis clears his throat, tipping his head up so he can see Harry’s face. “Prove it.”
Harry’s eyes flick back to Louis’ face. “It literally has my name on it.”
He looks unwillingly amused, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s not the first time Louis has been in this position, arousal hanging thick in the air between them, unable to stop himself from trying to goad Harry into something. There’s no stopping it this time, though – Harry rented an entire suite for him, three floors away from everyone else, bought a million candles, throwing a ridiculous amount of money away for a single night, and Louis is going to let him do pretty much whatever he wants.
“Like you’re the only person in the entire world with the name Styles,” Louis scoffs. Their height difference is a little less noticeable when Louis is wearing shoes and Harry isn’t. “Full of yourself tonight, aren’t you.”
“Baby,” Harry murmurs, sliding both his hands underneath Louis’ blazer, stroking slowly down his sides before settling on his hips, gripping lightly. “Baby, as much as I love it when you do this, I need to tell you something.”
Do what, Louis thinks. All he’s doing is calling Harry out on his shit. Someone has to do it. There’s entirely too many people in the world who think Harry’s some kind of sex god when he’s really just a massive dork who’s been obsessed with Louis since he was sixteen.
“What?” he demands, suspicious. If Harry says something stupid Louis is going to slap him in the dick, regardless of the fact that he plans on using it very soon.
“I love you,” Harry tells him, and kisses the outraged retort right out of Louis’ mouth. Louis squirms, thinks about shoving him off, but Harry kisses like there’s nothing he wants more in the world than to be doing it, kissing Louis in the middle of this hotel room.
If it was anyone else, Louis might be a little embarrassed by how needy it makes him. It’s Harry, though, Harry who knows him better than anyone else in the world, Harry who waited ten years for this, so Louis just lets his head tip to the exact right angle, lets Harry kiss him like he’s starving for it. Kisses back, winding his arms around Harry’s neck. Has to arch up onto his toes a bit in the process, mildly resentful of the way Harry won’t bend to meet him. He’s so stubborn, always has to get what he wants, and Louis is standing here wearing his shirt.
“Don’t you want to say it back?” Harry asks, mouthing his way across Louis’ jaw, hands suddenly on Louis’ arse, squeezing, before they slide down further to wrap around Louis’ thighs and pull him up off the ground. Louis pulls in a half-shocked breath, clutching at Harry’s neck, having to trust that Harry won’t drop him.
“No,” Louis says, shaking his head slowly, squirming in Harry’s arms. He’s been half hard since he was told Harry wasn’t there after the show, could barely keep from touching himself in the shower. He didn’t entirely succeed, fingered himself a little. Just to make sure he was clean, of course. No other reason.
He’s fully hard now, cock trapped in his jeans, arching his hips up to press against Harry’s abdomen because he can’t help himself.
“Why not,” Harry says, less of a question than it should be. Vaguely, Louis is aware that they’re moving, that Harry’s supporting all of his weight. “You show up looking like this and you don’t want to tell me you love me?”
Louis’ back hits a bed before he even realizes he’s being tossed onto it. Harry stands above him, looking at him, not making any move to join him. “Looking like what?” Louis asks, squirming so his arm is beneath his head, looking up at Harry from under his eyelashes. His shoes are on the bed, but that’s not his fault so he doesn’t toe them off.
“That’s the important part of that statement to you?” Harry asks. He drops to his knees beside the bed, putting his hand flat on Louis’ stomach, over the shirt. Over his own shirt that Louis stole from him. “That I think you’re stupidly attractive?”
Heat flushes its way through Louis’ chest. He turns onto his side, shifting as close to the edge of the bed as he can get without falling off and grabs at the front of Harry’s shirt. “You make me happy,” he whispers. It’s not the same as I love you, but it has the same affect. The curve of Harry’s smile is slow, devastating, and his hand moves up from its spot on Louis’ ribcage to curl around the side of his neck instead.
“You make me crazy, sometimes,” Harry says, stroking his thumb along Louis’ throat. “All the things I’ve thought about doing to you.”
“Like what?” Louis asks. If he gets any closer to the edge of the bed he’s going to be hanging off of it.
Harry hasn’t stopped looking at him, gaze heavy, piercing. “I have ten years of fantasies I could tell you about,” he says. “Do they really matter right now?” He leans forward, trying to catch Louis’ mouth for a kiss.
Louis pulls back, just enough that the kiss lands on his jaw instead. He feels more than he hears Harry’s sigh, the way Harry doesn’t pull back at all, mouth still pressed against Louis’ skin. “They do if they’re weird. I’m not doing weird sex stuff with you, Harry.”
It’s the kind of statement that might be a lie. Maybe. Louis could probably be coaxed into a lot of things if it was Harry doing the coaxing. He knows that about himself. He thinks Harry probably knows it too.
“They’re not weird,” Harry says. He stops to consider. “You’re okay with me being a furry, right?”
Louis’ laugh is too loud, unattractive. It only turns the look on Harry’s face softer, fonder. He tugs at his handful of Harry’s shirt, trying to urge him up onto the bed. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Harry takes the hint, climbing up over Louis, to the other side of him, lying down on his side and pulling Louis towards him. “I’m not joking. I’m being really serious right now, baby.”
Jesus, he’s so fucking weird. Louis has always been reluctantly charmed by it, and now is no exception. It’s detrimental to his sanity, sometimes.
“I love you,” he says, tipping his head up so he’s looking at Harry’s face. Watches the way his smile spreads, lighting up his face, bringing out his dimples.
“Baby,” Harry croons, nudging Louis over until he’s lying on his back, pulling himself up over him. Louis spreads his thighs, gives Harry the room. “Baby, I love you too.”
Happiness is bubbling in Louis’ chest, threatening to take over everything else. It feels a little weird, if only because he doesn’t have to be careful about it anymore. Can let himself really feel it.
It’s as good an excuse as any to kiss Harry, arching up off the bed to make their mouths meet somewhere in the middle. The position reminds him of all the times Harry’s pressed him up against a wall somewhere and watched Louis’ mouth like he was having a really hard time remembering why kissing wasn’t a thing they did. That happiness is still burning bright in his chest, but it’s diluted with arousal now, distracting from it a bit. Nothing’s ever felt as good as this does, Louis is pretty sure, even as Harry presses him back against the bed, holding him there, holding him down. He kisses like he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night doing just that, and as mellowing as that thought is, Louis came here with the intention of getting laid, and he’s going to get what he came for.
“You should probably do something about this,” Louis says, turning his head to the side so Harry’s mouth goes sliding across his jawline, tugging at the hem of Harry’s shirt. Harry hums, distracted by sucking a mark into Louis’ skin, ignoring the statement altogether.
Louis huffs, tugging harder. “Harry,” he complains, knows he’s whining even as he says it. He doesn’t understand why Harry’s still wearing clothes at all. Normally he takes them off without the slightest provocation.
“God, you’re needy,” Harry says into his throat. He sounds so fucking pleased about it. It’s the only reason Louis doesn’t bristle at it, sliding both of his hands underneath Harry’s shirt to get at his skin. “You wanna be naked together?”
Yes, that’s what Louis has been saying. He doesn’t understand how he could have been any clearer about it.
Harry kisses him again before Louis can get that out, but he’s undoing the button on his jeans at the same time, so Louis supposes he can forgive him. He gets out of them easily, without having to detach himself from Louis’ mouth. It’s a skill Louis is vaguely envious of. He might be more envious if Harry wasn’t still kissing him like that, with slow, sweeping flicks of his tongue against Louis’, hot and tender. It’s distracting, makes heat flow through his entire body, centering in the pit of his stomach.
He does have to break the kiss to pull his shirt off over his head, pulling Louis’ jeans and pants down in almost the same movement. He gets a little stuck when he realizes Louis’ still wearing his shoes, has to pull them off along with his socks. It leaves him wearing only Harry’s shirt, so close to naked that it almost feels like he is.
Harry doesn’t even take a second to look at him before he’s curling back in to get at Louis’ mouth, kissing him deeper now, wetter. He’s down to his boxers, but it’s not what Louis asked for, even if he is sliding his hands underneath the shirt to clutch at Louis’ sides, holding him still.
Louis didn’t think it would come down to this, not with Harry, but he’ll do what he has to in order to get what he needs. He squirms his way out from underneath Harry’s body, pushing Harry flat against the bed so he can climb on top of him. The shirt rucks up around his thighs, exposing him to the cool air of the room, to Harry’s gaze. And Harry is looking, finally, putting his hands on Louis’ thighs and spreading them just a little more, helping him settle down in Harry’s lap, right where he can feel the hard line of Harry’s cock against his bare arse. It’s not skin against skin, not yet, but it feels so good Louis has to suck in a deep breath anyway, reminding himself to breathe.
“Baby,” Harry murmurs, slow and deep, laid back against the pillows like he’s perfectly comfortable letting Louis take the lead, like he’s not the one who has an all-encompassing need to press Louis between his body and walls, to cage him in places. “You – ”
“Tell me the most common one,” Louis interrupts. At Harry’s raised eyebrow, he elaborates, “The most common thing you thought about when you were trying to get off. When it had been a long day and you just wanted to come so you could get some sleep. The thing that never failed to get you off quickly.”
Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. His hands settle around Louis’ hips, holding him steady as he rocks up against him slowly. The unmistakable press of his cock becomes even more apparent, full and thick. Louis doesn’t even try to stop the way he grinds down against it.
“It’s changed over the years,” Harry says, the words coming out of him as slow as the rock of his hips. “You do a lot of things that turn me on. I’m not even sure that you know you’re doing them half the time.”
Actually, Louis is pretty sure that he does most of them intentionally. Harry’s always been ridiculously easy to get riled up. “Are you refusing to tell me because it’s really strange?”
Harry rolls his eyes, pinching at Louis’ side. “No,” he says. “I’m just a little distracted by the fact that your naked arse is literally on top of my cock.”
It is kind of distracting, Louis will admit. He’s starting to feel the strain in his thighs from how wide they’re spread, a dull, pleasant ache that doesn’t do anything to take away from the more urgent ache of his cock. He already wants to come and they’ve barely gotten started.
“So tell me then,” Louis insists. It would be too easy to forget about the question altogether, let Harry talk him out of the need to know, at least for now. He’s not going to do that, though. He’s already so easy for Harry, the last thing he needs to be doing is letting him do things like that.
“Do you remember,” Harry starts, so slow Louis might actually cry, “during the last tour, all those water fights you used to get into with Liam? There was this one in Glasgow, I think, where you just ended up completely drenched, all of your clothes sticking to you. You kept throwing things, being such a fucking brat, I had to keep walking away so I wouldn’t fuck you onstage with sixty thousand people watching.”
Louis comes to an abrupt halt, stilling on top of Harry, staring down at him. “That’s all it is?” he demands. “All the dirty things you could have been fantasizing about doing to me and you pick the one that was actually the most likely to happen?”
It wouldn’t have actually happened. Recent slip-up aside, Louis doesn’t actually do things onstage that are going to get him in actual shit, much less arrested for having sex in public. He would have let Harry do him backstage, though, probably even the second they got rid of their mic packs in a hallway somewhere where one of the crew could have seen them.
If Harry had have pushed for it, that is. And Louis is pretty sure that the only reason Harry never did is because he knew Louis would let him.
Harry’s hands slip away from his hips, finally settling on his arse and squeezing gently. Louis doesn’t let out a hiss of breath, but he wants to. “You were so wet you were dripping,” Harry says. “You’d been more combative than normal that night, kept trying to get underneath everyone’s skin, and I kept thinking about how rough it would get, how you’d wake up with blood underneath your nails from the way you kept clutching at me, how it’d be obvious to everyone just how good it was from the way you were walking the next day.”
For a minute, Louis nearly forgets how to breathe, staring down at Harry, at the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and thinks how long did you know you were going to say that for.
It’s not a coincidence, that Harry let him get on top so easily. It had seemed a little strange right from the beginning, but Louis had been too distracted to think it through. It’s easy to forget, sometimes, that Harry doesn’t let him get away with things so much as he nudges Louis into doing them in a way that pleases him. Louis has spent a long time trying not to think about it, because thinking about it always made him flush deep in the chest, entire body warm and tingling from it. The way Harry knows things about him, things that other people have only guessed at, it’s –
“You think you could give it to me that good?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. It’s a slow response, much slower than he would normally be, and the smirk on Harry’s face says he knows exactly why that is.
“You really wanna know what I think?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow right back. He slides one hand down Louis’ arsecheek, warm and heavy, not at all hesitant about it as his fingers slip in between, stroking down the middle. “I think we wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t think I could give it to you that good.”
Two fingers ghost over Louis’ hole, a feather light touch that has him clenching up around nothing. He bites back a noise, but he doesn’t quite manage to stop the way his hips shift down, trying to get more of that touch.
He’s lost the upper hand so fast he almost doesn’t know how it happened. He really only has one card left to play and no time left to draw it out, so he plunges his hand down, into Harry’s pants, and gets a hold of his cock.
The hand Harry’s not using to tease him comes around to grab a hold of Louis’ wrist, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. Just stills it, fingers strong and tight around Louis’ flesh. “No matter what the picture was that got me off, they always had one thing in common,” he says, pausing just long enough to ensure that he has Louis’ full attention. “You always wanted it so goddamn bad, and you only wanted it from me.”
He’s not wrong. Louis surges down and kisses him, biting at Harry’s mouth, helpless not to. Harry barely lets him get away with it at all, kissing back for a split second before he’s rolling them over so he’s back on top.
Louis’ entire chest clenches as he does it, tight and happy. He loses his grip on Harry’s cock in the process, knuckles pressing into his hip. They pull away from the kiss at the same time, freeing up Louis’ mouth so he can complain, “You’re so fucking cocky.”
“I just know you,” Harry says, squeezing the outside of Louis’ thigh with one hand, encouraging him to pull it up a little higher. Louis does, but only because it makes their cocks slide together in a way that’s entirely too distracting. “I know the things you like.”
“You don’t know anything,” Louis huffs. It’s hard to concentrate when Harry’s working his hips like that, slow grinds that are more teasing than anything.
Harry pulls back a little, eyes narrowing in a way that says he’s taken it as a challenge. “I don’t?” he asks, mouth wet. “Should I just go, then?” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, even though that’s not the direction of the door.
Instinctively, Louis’ thighs tighten, clamping down around Harry’s hips even though he knows Harry’s not actually going to go anywhere. “You could just fuck off,” he offers sweetly.
“Think I’m gonna fuck you, instead,” Harry says, bending his head back down. Louis is expecting another kiss. What he gets is teeth against his throat, sharp enough that his laugh is startled into a moan. Harry sucks a bruise into his skin, deep and dark enough that there’ll be no covering it up in the morning.
It must have been Louis laughing at his stupid joke that makes Harry move a little faster, flicking open the buttons on Louis’ shirt with one hand. He doesn’t spend too long marking up Louis’ throat, mouth following the path his hand is taking, leaving a wet trail in his wake as he exposes more of Louis’ skin. He’s gentle about it, tender, even, right up until he gets to Louis’ nipples, then he bites, shockingly hard.
“Ow, fuck,” Louis says, jerking under Harry’s hands, but there’s no denying the way his cock is dripping from it, making his belly wet and messy.
“S’hurt?” Harry asks, glancing up. He licks over the mark he’s made, tongue dragging hot and wet. Louis grits his teeth against a moan, swallowing hard.
“Yes,” he says honestly. He lets his head fall back against the pillow, staring up at the shadows flickering across the ceiling. Purposefully, he holds back the fact that the flicker of pain isn’t a bad thing.
Harry hums, the vibrations threatening to shatter Louis’ entire chest apart from how much he wants it, and laves his tongue over the spot once more. “Do you want it to hurt more?”
The question makes Louis’ entire body throb, thighs clenching around Harry’s hips. He swallows the noise that wants to escape his mouth, squeezing his eyes closed and throwing his forearm over them for good measure. Sinks his teeth into his own bottom lip and tries not to squirm too obviously as he thinks about how he should answer.
Harry presses another kiss to Louis’ nipple, just the one, close-mouthed and soft, before his breath is hitting Louis’ cheek. He doesn’t try to pull Louis’ arm away from his face, tugging at his bottom lip until Louis lets it slide out from between his teeth.
“I’ve known you for a long fucking time, baby,” Harry says. His voice is quiet, commanding. Louis swallows, listening, all too aware of Harry’s eyes fixed on his face even though he can’t see it. “You know I’d move heaven and hell to give you everything you want, but this is something I need you to tell me that you want or I’m not going to do it.”
Slowly, Louis lets his arm slide off his face and onto the pillow, looking up at Harry. “You know how sometimes you get so irritated with me that all the veins in your wrist stand out from how hard you’re clenching your fist?” he asks. “I do that on purpose.”
“I know,” Harry says. He looks like he’s unwillingly amused, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Subtlety isn’t exactly your strong suit.”
He puts a hand underneath Louis’ knee, dragging his thigh up so their hips fit tighter together. He’s just as hard now as he was when Louis had his fingers wrapped around his cock, and that’s emboldening, somehow.
“I do it because I can’t stop thinking about how hard you would spank me if you ever lost control for a second,” Louis says. He presses two fingers to the center of Harry’s chest, feels how hard it’s heaving. “Whether you’d mean it to be a punishment or a reward.”
“Yeah,” Harry says. He’s holding himself up on one elbow, looking down at Louis’ face, and Louis has never felt smaller or more powerful. “I know that too.”
Other people don’t see him like this. The general public especially. Everyone thinks he’s so kind, so gentle, and he is, a lot of the time. Even the people who do actually know him, who know that he’s sarcastic and impatient and capable of being hilariously rude sometimes don’t know that he’s like this, too. That there’s a part of him that wants to get Louis between his teeth and chew until he’s all used up.
“I also know that that’s not actually an answer to my question,” Harry continues. “Yes or no, baby.”
“Yes,” Louis says, and after ten years, it feels like it comes out effortlessly.
Harry’s mouth is against his before the word has even finished leaving Louis’ tongue, deep and wet and insistent. They kiss until Louis’ tongue is tired, jaw sore, and he can’t ignore his cock anymore.
“C’mon,” he says, turning his head to the side to take in some air. “We only have thirty-six hours, at this rate you’re not even going to make me come once before we have to leave this hotel.”
Harry pinches his nipple again, fast and sharp. “I’m going to take as much time as I want,” he says, “and you’re going to take it for as long as I want to give it to you.”
Louis opens his mouth to retort – probably in protest – but Harry adds, “And next time I’m going to give you a spanking that’s been ten years in the making.”
Louis’ mouth clicks closed again. He swallows, gazing up into Harry’s face. Just the thought of it has another wave of heat rushing through his entire body. It’s not unexpected – he’s the one who brought it up first, technically.
“As a punishment?”
The curve of Harry’s smile is detrimental to Louis’ well-being, sharp and dangerous. “You can tell me if I’m wrong, baby, but I’m pretty sure that being spanked is never going to feel like a punishment to you.”
The heat in Louis’ body rises to his face, his cheeks. He reaches up, trying to push Harry’s face back, complaining, “You need to take your ego down a few pegs, Styles. Not everyone is as into you as I am, and even I don’t think it’s attractive that you’re this full of yourself.”
Harry pulls his hand down, keeping it trapped against his chest. “Don’t tell me no tonight,” he says, such an abrupt change in topic that it leaves Louis blinking, uncomprehending.
“Unless you actually mean it,” Harry tacks on, like he’s realized that Louis can’t actually see into his head. “I love you, and I know you’re going to want to play at saying no when you don’t actually mean it, but I need you not to do that tonight.”
Louis chews on his bottom lip. It almost feels strange, that Harry knows him so well that he knows exactly what Louis is going to want. It shouldn’t, because Harry has always given him whatever he needs, but Louis has spent a lot of time determinedly not thinking about it. As much as he could, anyway.
“I want it to be everything you want it to be,” Louis says. For the first time since he walked into the room, he feels a little vulnerable, like all of the neediest parts of him are out on display. More than just physically.
Harry rolls his eyes, squeezing Louis’ fingers. “You want to make me work for it,” he says. “You want to say no when you really mean yes, and that’s something I’m into, but tonight I need you to only say no if you actually mean it. Just for tonight.”
“Okay,” Louis says. “How many times are you going to make me say yes before you actually do something about it, though?”
Pointedly, he rolls his hips up. His cock brushes against Harry’s hip, and he knows how he must look, practically naked and hard.
If Harry wants him to be honest, Louis will honestly say that he doesn’t know how Harry has held out for so long.
“Don’t be a brat,” Harry says, mildly enough that he must want the exact opposite of that. Louis opens his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue, except Harry’s leaning back down, bypassing Louis’ mouth to suck a mark on the underside of his jaw. Louis bites back a noise, digging his fingers into Harry’s skin, trying not to squirm too obviously.
By the time Harry lets go, a few seconds later, Louis’ skin feels bruised, mottled enough that the mark isn’t going to fade anytime soon. He reaches up to touch it, complaining, “Pauline’s going to kill me.”
Harry ignores him, mouthing his way down the column of Louis’ throat, teeth and tongue in equal measure, until Louis can’t even remember what he was complaining about, arching up into the hot pressure. He’s making noises he can’t hold back any longer, quiet little gasps every time Harry’s teeth sink in just a little bit harder. It feels good, all the places Harry’s touching hot and sore. He can’t stop himself from sliding his hand down, curling his fingers around his cock, trying to help the ache that’s lingering there.
“Did I say you could do that?” Harry asks, grabbing Louis’ hand and pinning it to the mattress. He doesn’t go back to mouthing his way down Louis’ chest, looking up at him with his hair tangled, cheeks flushed.
Louis flexes his fingers. Harry’s grip only tightens, making his breath catch in his throat. He wants to come. He wants Harry to fuck him so he can come on his cock.
“You’re so slow,” he says. He can’t catch his breath enough to stop it from sounding a little too close to begging for his liking.
“You remember how five seconds ago I said that I was going to take as much time as I want and that you’re going to let me?” Harry says. “This is still that part.”
If he was a little bit higher, Louis could make a grab for his cock, see if that changes his mind. As it is, he can barely move at all with Harry on top of him, holding his wrist.
His cock throbs like it’s trying to remind him that he likes it. As if Louis could forget.
“Don’t you want to fuck me?” Louis asks, trying to shift his hips again, get some pressure. “I want it so goddamn bad, Harry, want your cock inside me, splitting me open.”
“I’m gonna fuck you, baby,” Harry promises. “I’m just gonna do this for a while, first.”
He ducks down and sucks Louis’ cock into his mouth, all the hot, wet pressure Louis was asking for. Louis inhales sharply, deeply, hips trying to arch upwards and get more of it. For a second, he can’t breathe, can’t think, can only focus on how good it is. Harry’s still pinning one of his wrists down to the bed, but the other one is free, and Louis can’t help the way it drifts up to let his fingers tangle in Harry’s hair, strands soft and silky as they slide against his skin.
It really is that good. Louis breathes through his mouth, eyes closed, head swimming as Harry sucks a little harder. He doesn’t go any further than the first couple of inches, tongue flicking against the head of Louis’ cock. Everything is hazy, pleasure floating through his entire body. His toes curl against the sheets, orgasm building up in his spine, his belly.
Harry pulls off before it can happen, leaving Louis’ cock spit slick and bobbing in the air. He makes another noise, only a bit disgruntled, because what comes next can only be better than what Harry’s given him so far.
“You have a really pretty cock, baby,” Harry whispers, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to Louis’ shaft. He laves his tongue along the entire length of it, so slowly tears of frustration, of arousal, start building behind Louis’ closed eyelids. He has to untangle his fingers from Harry’s hair to put his arm back over his face, breathing hot and wet against his own skin.
“I want to come,” Louis says. Harry just laughs, deep and happy, and sucks Louis’ cock back into his mouth, still not taking it in any further than the first two inches.
Louis loses himself in it. It’s impossible to know how much time has passed. The air feels thick and muggy, almost overheated. His orgasm teeters in the heat of Harry’s mouth, the slow, gentle slide of his tongue. He’s not doing anything to push it one way or the other, keeping Louis on the edge, chest full of the ache of knowing that Harry loves him.
“Please,” Louis murmurs. His voice has gone thin and raspy. He figures it must be what Harry is waiting for, for him to beg, to ask for permission. “Please fuck me.”
Harry pulls off just long enough to respond, “Not yet.” His voice is shot, hoarse, and the sound of it only makes Louis want to come that much more.
Louis puts his arm back over his flushed face as Harry mouths at the head of his cock, trying to keep his breathing even. There’s a part of him that wants to watch, see the way Harry’s tongue slides over his skin, if his mouth has gone red. He’ll come for sure if he does that, though, so he curls his toes against the sheets helplessly, arching up into the pleasure. It shouldn’t feel so good when it’s this teasing, when all Harry is barely doing much more than licking at him.
He only makes it another few minutes before it starts to get overwhelming. Breathes out, “If you keep doing that I’m gonna come on your face.”
It’s quiet enough that Louis barely hears it. For a second, he thinks Harry hasn’t, too focused on sliding his wet mouth down Louis’ cock again. Then all that heat, all that pressure is gone, completely gone.
“In what world do you think I’d be opposed to that?” Harry asks. His voice is the deepest Louis has ever heard it. Louis lifts his arm just enough that he can see Harry propping himself up on an elbow, fingers of his free hand trailing softly across Louis’ hip.
Louis’ shirt is damp with sweat, sticking to the small of his back as he squirms underneath Harry’s hands. Neither of them are even naked yet, and suddenly that seems like the most unfair thing about all of this.
“You haven’t even gotten me fully naked yet,” Louis says. “Don’t you even want it?”
It turns out to be the thing that actually goads Harry into moving. He gets back up onto his knees, leaning over Louis, and takes his hand to guide it down into his pants, curling his fingers around his cock. “Does it feel like I don’t want it?”
It feels like it’s all Harry wants. His cock is just as hard as it was before in Louis’ grip, gone wet at the tip. Louis strokes him, staring up into Harry’s face, trying to make his own communicate his very urgent need to get fucked.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Harry says, bending his head down to kiss Louis some more, mouths moving together slow and lazy.
“Please,” Louis says, twisting his head away enough to gasp out the word. “Please, I want you to fuck me.”
There’s not a lot of room to work with in Harry’s briefs. Louis makes it work, jerking Harry off slow and tight, giving him an idea of what he could have right at this very minute if he hurried up for once in his life.
“You just want to come,” Harry murmurs into his neck, dragging his teeth down towards Louis’ collarbone. “You can come whenever you want, baby. I promise I’m still going to fuck you.”
Louis doesn’t have enough wits about him enough to explain exactly how much that isn’t going to work for him. He tightens his grip on Harry’s cock, stroking him a little faster, and curls the fingers of his other hand around the back of Harry’s neck. In the end, all he can manage is, “I can’t come twice.”
“Sure you can,” Harry says easily. He sound too put together for someone who’s got a hand on his cock.
“I can’t,” Louis insists, shaking his head slowly. His insides feel like they’re unraveling, twisting apart until he’s flayed and open on the bed.
Harry scrapes the side of his thumbnail down Louis’ chest, towards his belly. “Are you sure?”
For some reason, Louis hesitates. Harry must see it on his face, read it for what it is, and continues, “Have you ever tried before?”
“No,” Louis says. His hand stops moving on Harry’s cock as he thinks about it.
“Do you want to?”
For some reason, it feels like a heavy question. Louis doesn’t think he can answer it, turning his head to bite at Harry’s shoulder instead. He’s immediately gratified by the way Harry flinches, pulling away from Louis’ teeth.
“God, you’re so fucking bitey,” Harry complains. If it wasn’t for the way his cock jerks in Louis’ hand, Louis might actually think he’s upset. “Look, if you don’t want to try, we can just pretend that this never happened. All I’m saying is that I know you pretty fucking well, and I’m pretty damn sure that you can.”
In every other situation, he’s been right about what Louis is capable of. Louis has no reason to start doubting him now.
“Fine,” Louis says, using the sharpness of his voice to disguise how the thought is making him feel. Nervous and scared and excited and, above all of it, so turned on it would barely take anything to make him come once. “Just don’t get disappointed when it doesn’t work and all I want to do after the first time is go to sleep.”
“Nothing you could do would ever disappoint me,” Harry says softly. He clears his throat a little and adds, “Besides, if that’s what you end up wanting I’ll be happy to come on your arse and wait an hour to fuck you for real. You’ll still be all tingly and sweet in that case.”
Louis is never sweet, especially not to Harry, who’s built to take all the craziness Louis can dream up to hurl at him. If he says that it’ll just derail them into an entire different conversation, and he still wants to come. It’s been ages since the last time he had an orgasm. His nod is jerky.
“Okay,” Harry murmurs. “Okay.”
He sounds happy. He feels happy, too, when he gathers Louis up in his arms to kiss him again, slow and sweet, so much less urgent than it was before, like Louis saying yes to one thing gave him the completely wrong impression that Louis is saying yes to everything he could think up.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Louis says when he’s capable of breaking the kiss, pushing Harry’s face away. Harry’s smile is radiant, dimples on either side entirely too deep. Louis pushes a finger into one of them, just for the way it makes Harry turn his head and laugh.
“Okay, turn over,” Harry says, tugging Louis’ hand out of his pants before taking hold of his hips, trying to nudge him over.
Louis frowns up at him, staying still out of sheer stubbornness. “Thought you were gonna make me come.”
“I am,” Harry agrees. “Been wanting to get my mouth on your arse for so long I have reoccurring dreams about it.”
Of course he does.
“You know what I have reoccurring dreams about?” Louis asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “Getting to come sometime this century.”
“Oh, you’re gonna come,” Harry says. He stops waiting for Louis to help and just flips him over himself, hands strong and sure underneath Louis’ thighs. Louis inhales sharply, getting a face full of pillow for his trouble, and tries to kick backwards and hit Harry in the leg or something. He misses, gets nothing but air.
He doesn’t realize that Harry’s gone quiet until he squirms his way into a comfortable position, knee pulled up a little, hand under his chest.
He also doesn’t realize exactly how exposed all of his squirming has left him until he recognizes the cool air hitting his warm back. His warm, bared back, because his shirt has slid up almost all the way to his armpits. Now he’s really almost naked, almost all of him on display. The thought makes him flush even deeper than before, tucking his face into the sheets so Harry won’t see it.
“Jesus christ,” Harry says eventually, his voice quiet. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
His hand comes down to drag its way slowly up the length of Louis’ thigh, towards the curve of his arse. Louis breathes in deeply, clutching the sheet between two fingers as he tries to keep his reaction to a minimum. It’s just a simple touch. He’s been touched this way countless times before, by a lot of different people. It shouldn’t feel like this, like he’s about to go out of his mind from it when it’s barely started.
Although Harry has been touching him for a long time now. Maybe it isn’t so surprising after all.
“If you don’t do something soon I’m going to leave you for someone else,” Louis threatens. It would probably be much more menacing if he was facing Harry, but then the redness on his cheeks would also be much more apparent.
Harry bites the swell of his arse. Louis jumps, stomach clenching at the brief flare of pain. “No you’re not,” Harry says. He squeezes both of Louis’ arsecheeks, one in each hand. “You’re stuck with me at this point, baby, sorry to say.”
He doesn’t sound very sorry. In fact, he doesn’t sound sorry at all. It’s insane how into it Louis is.
“I am,” Louis insists. He can feel the way Harry’s looking at him, drinking in Louis’ nearly naked body. It’s a heavy, heated gaze. “What’s the point of even being with you if you’re not going to dick me down the way you’ve been promising to?”
Harry sighs, squeezing his handfuls of arse a little harder. “You’re the most impatient person I know, did you know that?” he asks conversationally. Louis is going to respond, he really is, except Harry always chooses his moments wisely, and he chooses that exact one to lean down and lick a long, slow stripe in between Louis’ arsecheeks, ghosting over his hole.
All of Louis’ words die directly in his throat. He gasps against the sheets, fingers curling into his palms. Harry doesn’t give him any time to get used to it before his tongue is coming back again, harder this time. He doesn’t waste time being gentle about it, tongue moving sharp and sure.
It feels like Louis’ brain is melting slowly out of his ears, that’s how good it is. He’s aware of how much noise he’s making but he can’t stop himself, bring a hand up to his mouth so he can bite at his knuckles.
“How is every part of you so gorgeous?” Harry asks. It sounds like a rhetorical question. Louis doesn’t bother trying to answer, trying to regain his breath as Harry goes back to licking at him. It only takes a couple more swipes before he’s able get his tongue inside, and all Louis can do is fumble a hand down to grip at his cock, barely getting it there before he’s coming.
Everything goes white-hot and hazy. All Louis is aware of is the pleasure coursing through his body, the places Harry is touching him. That Harry is still licking into him, tongue wet and dragging as deep as he can get it.
Harry doesn’t stop licking him. It takes a few minutes for Louis to come down from his high and open his eyes again. Everything still feels good, if a little more tender than it was before.
“Harry,” Louis murmurs. His voice comes out softer than he intended, a little slurred. He reaches backwards, trying to find Harry’s face. All he finds is the messy tangle of Harry’s hair. That’s good enough, so he winds his fingers into it, pulling a little. “Harry.”
That’s all he can manage to say. Everything still feels good, but exhaustion is sinking into his bones, weighing him down to the bed.
Harry pulls away, brushing a kiss to the small of Louis’ back. “Are you okay?”
Louis feels amazing. He’s still floating on a cloud of endorphins, light and sweet. He shifts, pulling his knee up under him so he can roll onto his side a little. “C’mere.”
Obligingly, Harry shuffles up so he’s leaning over Louis’ shoulder instead, grin bright and happy. “Y’look so good when you come, baby.”
God. He’s so full of compliments it’s ridiculous. Louis reaches up and puts a hand flat against Harry’s stomach, just under the moth. There’s a lot of things he could say to that, but really only one thing that matters. “I love you.”
Impossibly, Harry’s smile gets even wider. Both of his dimples are out, deep and eye-catching. Louis takes his hand off Harry’s chest to stroke at his dimple instead, the right one. “George doesn’t get as much attention as Elaine and that’s not fair.”
“I still don’t understand why you named them after Seinfeld characters,” Harry grumbles, turning his head to kiss Louis’ fingers. “And I love you too.”
Louis’ chest feels like it’s going to break open from how happy he is. He wants Harry to kiss him some more. Licks his lips as he’s thinking about it. They haven’t kissed nearly enough to make up for all the time they’ve known each other, in Louis’ very important opinion.
“So what do you think?” Harry asks, trailing his fingers across Louis’ collarbone. “Are you done, or do you think you can take some more?”
Louis wants to open his mouth and say that he doesn’t want Harry to touch him anymore, insult him until he rolls his eyes and gives Louis all the things he’s been promising. Louis told him that he wouldn’t do that tonight, though, and that part of him that always wants Harry to be happy with him will never lose out to his desire to make Harry work for it.
“Yeah,” Louis says. “Feels like you took the edge off.”
It’s true. He feels soft and mellow, like he’d let Harry do any number of things to him. He’s not quite far enough gone to actually say that out loud, though.
“That’s exactly what I was aiming for,” Harry says solemnly, nodding his head. He seems content to just sit there staring at Louis’ face, despite the way Louis can feel how hard he is. Still.
He can also feel the way Harry’s saliva is drying between his arsecheeks, reminding him of exactly how empty he is. Harry didn’t even put a single finger in him. For all his talk, he’s not acting like someone who would give his left arm to put his cock in Louis’ body.
“Are you going to keep this moving, or are you going to sit here staring at me all night?” Louis asks. He rolls all the way onto his back, thigh pressed up against Harry’s knee. It leaves him more or less caged between Harry’s chest and the mattress, and anything left in his body that was a little unsure settles at the way Harry doesn’t move.
“I’m gonna spend the rest of my life staring at you,” Harry says. “The title of my next album is going to be Louis Tomlinson is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Louis’ sigh is cut off by Harry kissing him again. It’s lazier than he kissed before, like he was the one who came and not Louis. Like he really does believe that he has the rest of his life to do this.
It’s something Louis never let himself stop to think about for too long. What the rest of their lives would look like, once they finally let themselves have this. It stretches out in front of him, scary and exciting all at once, and he knows that they’re going to figure it out together.
He’s distracted, thinking about it, so it comes as a surprise when Harry’s fingers brush against his hole. Louis doesn’t jump, but he does make a noise into Harry’s mouth, sharp and startled. Harry laughs at him, mouth pulling away from Louis’ just long enough for Louis to chase it back. He doesn’t waste any time slipping a finger past Louis’ rim, sinking all the way into him easily. He must have gotten lube while Louis was still distracted, wet his fingers.
It doesn’t hurt. Louis gasps into Harry’s mouth anyway, digging his nails into Harry’s back. His cock is only half-hard, can’t decide whether this is too much for it or not. He doesn’t have time to decide before Harry is sinking a second finger into him.
“Fuck,” Louis says, clutching at Harry harder. His fingers feel big and inescapable. He took off his rings at the same time he got the lube. Must have. They’re pressed all the way into him, down to the knuckle, deep enough to brush his prostate lightly enough it must be intentional.
It’s exactly how Louis thought it would be. Harry goes from moving at a glacial pace to two fingers deep without asking for permission, like he knows everything Louis’ body is capable of taking.
“Yeah, baby,” Harry agrees. He sounds like he’s only half-listening, pulling away from the kiss so he can bend Louis’ knee up, see where his fingers are buried. It’s unabashed, unashamed, the way he drinks it in, watching as he fingers Louis open, makes room for his cock.
Without thinking about it, Louis stretches his arm out towards the nightstand. It must be where Harry got the lube from, where he put his rings while Louis was thinking about what the rest of their life is going to look like. He has to grope around for a minute before he finds them, cool metal brushing his fingertips. They’re stacked into a neat pile that Louis knocks over as he fumbles for them, trying to get his hands to co-operate and stop trembling long enough that he can grab one.
Abruptly, Harry’s fingers stop moving. “What are you doing?” he asks, eyes sweeping up the length of Louis’ arm.
He doesn’t take them out. Louis clenches down around them. His cock is fully hard again, and every part of him feels so sensitive that he almost flinches as Harry lets go of his knee to thumb across the head of his cock.
“Nothing,” Louis says. He has one of the rings in his grasp, curls it into his palm so Harry won’t see. He can’t tell which one it is just from the feel of it, but if it’s one of Harry’s initials that’s just going to give him ideas.
Fast and unexpected, Harry flicks at one of Louis’ nipples. Louis gasps, arm swinging down from the nightstand so he can try to cover it, stuffing himself fuller of Harry’s fingers in the process.
“Is it weird that it kind of turns me on to find out you even get distracted during sex?” Harry wonders. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his chest, beading in the hollow of his throat. Louis wants to lick at it.
“I’m not distracted,” Louis says. To prove it, he clenches down around Harry’s fingers again, just in case Harry has forgotten where he put them.
“Yeah you were,” Harry says. All he does with his fingers is spread them a little, idly. “I’m well acquainted with what your distracted face looks like. It’s a lot different than your orgasm face, in case you were wondering.”
“Technically you haven’t even seen my orgasm face yet,” Louis points out. “You were too busy tonguing me to see it.”
Harry raises an eyebrow, slipping a third finger into him at the same time. “Are you complaining?”
Jesus Christ. He knows how to finger someone, that’s for sure. Louis nearly loses the thread of their conversation as Harry rubs all three fingers over his prostate, sending sparks through his entire body.
“The only thing I’m complaining about is how long it’s taking you to fuck me,” he manages.
“Told you that I’m gonna take as long as I want,” Harry says, but he must be feeling as impatient as Louis is because he finally pulls his fingers out and slicks his cock up.
Louis’ belly tightens at the sight of it. He’s been trying not to let himself think about it too much ever since he found Harry’s paperwork folded neatly on top of his clothes in his suitcase. He’s mostly failed, hadn’t been able to stop himself from wanking in the shower fast and frantic afterwards. Even if the rest of it hadn’t felt like it, this would make it real.
“You gonna put that on anytime soon?” Harry prompts, tapping at Louis’ hand, the one still protecting his nipple. “I don’t want to have to go searching for it later if you drop it while I’m fucking you.”
Louis looks down at it, opening his fist slowly. The H ring stares up at him, big and bulky, and of course it had to be that one.
Of course Louis wants to wear it.
He doesn’t think he’s been looking at it for too long, only a few seconds. Harry takes it out of his palm and slides it down Louis’ finger. The left ring finger. Even though it’s too big and slides around and would fit better on his thumb.
Louis rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t mean we’re married, you know.” His heart is beating wildly in his chest, singing a happy little tune, exhilarated.
“Of course not,” Harry agrees. “If you don’t think our wedding is going to be the biggest event of the year where you’re the center of attention all day I’m not sure this relationship is going to work.”
Okay, now Louis feels like he needs to come just as badly as he did the first time. He wants to roll his eyes again, complain that Harry is too sappy and that he needs to tone it down a bit. More than that, though, he wants Harry to keep doing it. So he doesn’t say anything at all, blinking up at Harry slowly, rolling his hips down the best that he can. Just so Harry will be able to feel how ready he is.
“Even when you don’t say anything you’re really demanding,” Harry says, but he’s finally moving, getting a little bit more lube onto his cock and hooking one of Louis’ knees over his arm before he get them lined up. And just when it finally seems like it’s getting somewhere, Harry bends his head back down, trying to get Louis’ mouth.
Immediately, Louis twists away, complaining, “C’mon, Harry, you’re taking forever – ”
There’s more to that statement, he’s pretty sure. Harry chooses to finally listen to him right then, pushing his hips forward, the head of his cock pressing against Louis’ rim until it gives way, lets him slide in.
Louis holds his breath through the first few inches, bent nearly in half, no choice other than to take it as slowly as Harry wants to give it to him. He lets his eyes drift shut, helpless against the onslaught of feelings everything is giving him. It might be easier if all of those feelings were purely physical. They’re not, though, have never been when it comes to Harry, and Louis wants to feel the depth of every single one.
“You’re so quiet,” Harry murmurs. He doesn’t stop pushing in, forcing Louis’ body to make room for him, and Louis is so hard he might come before Harry even makes it all the way in. “Think – fuck – think this is the quietest you’ve ever been in your whole life.”
He sounds like he could barely string together the sentence, so affected by the tight clutch of Louis’ hole around him. Louis opens his eyes, blinking through a salty mixture of sweat and tears, and touches Harry’s face, the curve of his jaw, the sweep of his cheek. His dimples are still out, less deep now as he exerts himself, but enough that Louis can dip his thumb into George lightly.
Then, because Harry’s good to him and he takes everything Louis dishes out and barely complains about it, Louis whispers, “Your cock is very big.”
Under his thumb, Harry’s dimple widens. “Yeah?” He pushes in a little more, almost all the way inside now, and Louis is already split wide open from how good it feels.
“Don’t make me regret complimenting you,” Louis warns. Even to his own ears, he sounds breathless and way too fond.
Instead of answering, Harry kisses him again, tongue moving slick and easy as he finishes filling Louis up. He doesn’t wait for Louis to get used to the stretch of it, starts thrusting right away. Not deep, just short little swivels of his hips. Louis is making noise into Harry’s mouth, unable to stop himself, helpless little whimpers knocked out of the back of his throat every time Harry fucks back in. Louis is wet and open for it, cock drooling against his own belly as he gets fucked, held in place for it by Harry’s big, warm hands.
“You feel so good,” Harry whispers into Louis’ mouth. He hauls him up a little higher, the muscles in his arms flexing, and then he really starts to go for it, thrusting deep and fast, hitting Louis’ prostate almost every time.
Louis’ head tips back against the pillow. All of his muscles feel like they’ve turned to jelly, useless and weak. His hand is still pressed against Harry’s face, fingertips trembling against Harry’s skin as his orgasm builds in the base of his spine. He can feel the way Harry’s watching him, bent nearly in half. He’s still wearing Harry’s dumb shirt, the fabric of it sticking to him in a way that will probably be uncomfortable when he can concentrate on anything other than the deep drag of Harry’s cock in his arse and the desperate need coursing throughout the rest of his body.
“Harry,” he says, raspy and thin. His hand slides down Harry’s neck to rest on his shoulder, holding on. Harry’s ring weighs heavily on his left hand, reminding him exactly how much he belongs here, in this exact position.
“Yeah, baby,” Harry murmurs back. Sweat is beading at his hairline, drops sliding down his temples, making a few strands of his hair stick to his face. There’s a set to his jaw that reminds Louis, suddenly, that Harry hasn’t come at all yet. He must want it so bad.
Louis can barely think straight. Harry’s cock is rolling against his prostate now, slow and smooth, and the pressure is good Louis might be crying. He can’t tell, big happy place in his chest taking too much of his attention.
“Make me come,” Louis says. Blinks away the wetness trapped in his eyelashes, trying to clench down around Harry’s cock. Has the presence of mind to tack on, “please.” Nothing gets to Harry the way good manners do.
“You wanna come, baby?” Harry asks. He bites at the corner of Louis’ jaw until Louis’ head tilts for him, exposing his neck, the spot Harry keeps pressing his thumb against lately. There’s already a bruise there, high and obvious. Harry keeps making it worse every time he sucks at it.
“Please,” Louis gasps out. There’s nothing intentional about it this time. It just sort of slips out. His throat clicks at he tries to swallow, digging his nails into Harry’s back as Harry’s tongue slides over that spot, misleadingly gentle.
His vision goes white hot and hazy when Harry sucks at it, teeth sharp and a little painful. His cock throbs angrily, demandingly. It’s almost enough to make him come, pleasure overwhelming.
“You’re so amazing,” Harry says. His voice is still quiet, face pressed close to Louis’. He doesn’t slow down his thrusts, hips working smoothly. “I would have waited the rest of my life for you.”
He puts his hand on Louis’ cock, barely even touching him before Louis is coming, squeezing his eyes closed. Harry fucks him through it. It feels like his cock is getting even bigger, somehow, and all of it is so good Louis feels like he’s been stripped all the way down to his soul.
He floats on a wave of endorphins for a few minutes, conscious of the fact that Harry’s still going but not really registering it. By the time he’s able to open his eyes, he can’t feel his toes, hidden behind Harry’s back. He’s still they’re still there, though.
“I love you,” Louis says. His fingers are still trembling as he reaches up to brush Harry’s hair out of his face, lingering against his jawline. “So much.”
Harry’s going to come regardless of whether Louis helps him along or not, Louis knows. There’s really no need for Louis to help him along. He’s already got his cock shoved deep in Louis’ arse, splitting him open, fucking him sore. Louis won’t be able to walk properly in the morning.
“I love you too,” Harry whispers back, even though he must be desperate to come by now. “Probably even more.”
Now is not the time to debate that. Louis licks at his bottom lip, trying to move his hips and meet Harry’s thrusts. “Are you going to come? Get me all wet and messy, use me up? Already fucked me so good, just have to come in me now, mark me up like that.”
“That what you want?” Harry manages, voice gone tight. He rearranges Louis’ legs, presses them against his hips. His thrusts have gone a little erratic, wild, so close to coming Louis can practically feel it himself. “Want me to make you dirty even though you’re all sweet and tired? Wanna feel me dripping out of you afterwards, remind you that I’m the only person you’ve ever let in you like this?”
Louis’ cock twitches feebly, trying in vain to go for a third round. If Harry keeps talking he might be able to get there, the sound of his voice washing over Louis’ body, into him.
“Yeah,” Louis says. “Want you to come, Harry, please. Want to feel you inside me when I fall asleep.”
“Fuck,” Harry says on an exhale. He dips his head back down to kiss at Louis’ mouth again, hips moving harder, faster, shoving Louis full of his cock so deep it hurts a little, and then he’s coming in hot waves, making Louis just as messy on the inside as he feels on the outside.
Louis feels like he’s the one who’s just come. A flush of satisfaction runs through him. His toes curl against Harry’s back, letting Harry kiss him as rough as he needs to as he comes down from it. Slowly, the kiss turns gentle, tender, both of them gripping at each other tight. The way Harry pulls out is languid, barely breaking the kiss as he lowers Louis’ legs back down to the mattress. He lies down, drawing the sheet up to their shoulders, making sure Louis’ back is covered as Louis turns in to him, rolling onto his side.
Harry watches him, thumb ghosting over Louis’ kiss-swollen mouth, his other hand drifting across Louis’ body like he’s checking that every part of him is okay. Louis feels a little empty without Harry’s cock filling him up.