Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The first time that Harry thinks about marriage in relation to Louis, he’s eighteen years old, standing in the middle of a crowded frat house, six drinks down and another in his hand.

It’s not the first time that he’s laid eyes on Louis. It’s not even the second time, or the third time, but Harry doesn’t believe in denying what his brain is trying to tell him, and his brain has been telling him that Louis might be the prettiest person in the world ever since that first fateful meeting, when Harry hadn’t been able to stop looking and Louis had ‘accidentally’ spilled his tea all over Harry’s lap in retaliation.

Harry had been enamored from the very first second, and it had never gotten any better. Still, thinking he’d look so pretty with my ring on his finger isn’t exactly a normal thought for an eighteen year old boy to have, especially not one who’s fresh into university with the entire world at his disposal.

It’s a thought that he doesn’t really ever lose.

“So,” Louis begins from his perch on top of Harry’s hips, warm and heavy and naked. So naked. Because they just finished having sex. Harry has come drying into his skin, that’s how recently they just finished having sex.

Normally Louis is sleepy and clingy after they have sex. Harry really doesn’t understand what’s going on here.

“So,” Harry echoes, dragging the side of his thumbnail down the inside of Louis’ thigh just for the way it makes him shiver.

“I’m graduating in a couple of months,” Louis says. He doesn’t stop Harry from wrapping his entire hand around his thigh, skin silky smooth against his fingers.

“I know,” Harry agrees, attention torn between trying to figure out what Louis is attempting to say and concentrating on how Louis’ body feels underneath him, on top of him.

It’s hard to focus on anything that isn’t the way Louis’ skin is still flushed and sweaty, telltale signs that Harry just had him coming apart. “Got it marked in my date planner and everything,” Harry continues, partially because it’s true and partially because of the way it’ll make Louis slap him and try to hide his smile.

Except Louis doesn’t slap him or try to hide his smile. There’s no smile to try to hide.

“Things are gonna be different,” Louis says, looking everywhere but Harry’s face. “I’m still waiting on grad schools to reply to me, and I don’t know where I’m going to be next year.”

“Okay?” Harry asks, furrowing his eyebrows. This isn’t exactly new information - Louis would have told him if he had heard anything.

“I don’t know where I’m going to be next year,” Louis repeats, and there’s the tiniest hint of a waver in his voice.

Oh.

Harry sits up and rearranges them so he’s leaning back against the wall with Louis caught up tight in his arms, tucked together so neatly that he won’t even be able to complain. “That’s okay.”

Louis struggles in Harry’s grip, trying to wiggle his way free half-heartedly. He gives up after a few seconds, slumping back against Harry’s chest in a way that’s entirely too defeatist for Harry to be comfortable with. “You still have another two years of school to get through.”

“You’re on-point with the math today,” Harry says, squeezing him tighter, so Louis doesn’t have enough room to punch him in the ribs.

“I’m just saying, we might want to think this through before we get in too deep,” Louis says, holding himself very, very still.

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes. “And you thought that the best time to bring this idea up would be right after I spent an hour making you come three times?”

“Timing has never been my strong suit,” Louis says weakly. His fingers twitch in his lap. He’d definitely be toying with his shirt if he was wearing one.

“That’s definitely true,” Harry mutters, and grabs Louis’ chin, tipping his head up so they’re looking each other in the eyes. “I wanna spend the rest of my life making you come.”

“Even if I end up in America?” Louis challenges.

If he ends up in America they really need to work on their communication, because as far as Harry knows Louis has only applied to graduate programs in England. “Did you apply to any American schools?”

“That’s not the point,” Louis says, smacking Harry’s hand.

It kind of is the point, but Harry doesn’t say that. “I don’t - I’m just saying, maybe it would be easier if we didn’t get in too deep before I know what I’m doing next year,” Louis says quietly.

Harry can’t stop himself from laughing a little incredulously, squeezing Louis to him. “Is this not deep enough for you? I’m crazy about you.”

“It’s not - ” Louis starts. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

If he didn’t know Louis the way he does he might legitimately think that this is a break-up. “Baby,” he says, very, very carefully, because this is something that Louis is actually worried about, “if you think that splitting up now isn’t going to hurt me I don’t think you’ve been paying enough attention.”

Louis squirms. “No,” he says. “But it’s only been a few months, and I think we should talk about it now before we - whatever.”

“Before we move in together?” Harry guesses. “Before we have kids? Before we get married? Because you know that I want all of those things with you. And I know that you want all of those things with me, too.”

“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be,” Louis accuses.

Jesus. They might actually be fighting about this. Harry doesn’t want to be fighting about this, especially not when he actually does understand what Louis is failing to say. He makes an effort to compose himself - which is already difficult enough with Louis still naked on top of him - and says, “I want to be with you no matter what. It’ll be hard if you end up in Leeds or something, but we can make it work. That’s what Skype is for, right? So I can watch you get yourself off when you’re three hours away and wish I was there.”

“Skype is for chatting to people you aren’t close enough to see,” Louis says primly. His arms are crossed over his chest.

“So we were misusing it that time I went to my parents and you nearly made me break my phone?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow. “Wanted to be with you so bad I could almost taste you.”

“You’re distracting me from the point,” Louis says firmly, slapping Harry on the shoulder.

“Doesn’t take much,” Harry mutters.

Louis hits him again. Harry lets him. “The point, Harold, is that you have your whole life ahead of you and I don’t even know where I’m going to be this time next year.”

“You’re going to be with me getting dicked at least four times a week,” Harry says easily. “Or you’re not and you’re going to be off somewhere only getting dicked once a week or once a month or whatever, but it’ll still be by me. No matter how far away you are I still want to be the only person dicking you. And for you to be the only person I dick.”

“You’re gonna be lucky if I ever let you dick me again,” Louis mutters, and that’s how Harry wins an argument that they weren’t even really having.

To celebrate, he rolls them back over and dicks Louis one more time.

“So what are you majoring in?” the girl asks, looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes. Harry’s vaguely aware that she’s flirting with him, but only in the way that he notices because people don’t generally flirt with him anymore, at least not in this particular setting.

He sways forward a little, because despite her flirting she seems like a pretty cool girl and he’s not at all opposed to making new friends, plus he can barely hear her over the pulsing music.

It’s the last time he lets Niall pick the music, honestly.

“Business,” Harry answers with a genuine smile, and before he knows it they’ve been talking for a good fifteen minutes and he still hasn’t found a way to bring it up.

Hasn’t even thought about bringing it up, either. Doesn’t think about bringing it up until he goes to take a sip of his drink only to realize that it’s empty because Louis never came back with a fresh one like he said he was going to.

Another ten minutes go by, and Harry doesn’t really think anything of it. Louis gets distracted all the time - by people he knows, by trying to bully Niall into changing the music, by mixing weird drinks that he makes Harry be the first to try, by rolling a joint with Zayn, by stealing Liam’s hat and then trying to drown them both in the pool. This isn’t even close to the first time that Louis has said he’ll be right back and then hasn’t come back at all.

The only reason that he even realizes that something is wrong is because he can’t keep ignoring Liam darting worried, slightly anxious looks over at him, and that’s when he registers Louis’ voice, lilting and flirty, just barely loud enough for Harry to hear it.

Harry’s entire body is turning in the direction of the sound before he even realizes it, and then he understands why Liam’s been looking at him like that.

He abandons the girl without another word, letting his empty cup clatter onto a table, and doesn’t take his eyes off of Louis, caught up in the circle of another guy’s arms.

What the fuck is going on.

“Louis,” Harry says, and puts a hand on Louis’ bum as soon as he’s close enough, crowding up behind him. It leaves him pressed up more against this random guy that Harry’s never seen before in his life, but it also leaves him entirely able to feel the full body shiver that goes through Louis.

“Harold,” Louis returns, voice practically dripping with sweetness, and that’s like.

What the fuck is going on?

Louis calls him Harold all the time - when he’s joking, when he’s happy, when he’s irritated. The only time that he doesn’t really call him Harold is when they’re having sex, and when he does Harry just switches tactics.

That tone, though. That tone is specifically reserved for times when Harry has fucked up. He used that tone when Harry fucked with his laptop and missed his Skype session with his sisters.

“Louis,” Harry returns warily, slowly inching Louis away from the guy, raising his eyebrows when the guy looks like he’s about to protest.

“Harold,” Louis says pleasantly, letting Harry move him, “if you don’t get your hands off of me in the next ten seconds you’re never going to get laid again.”

It’s probably not a serious threat but Harry drops his hands anyway. Risking it is so not worth it. He’s still really confused, though, and it’s hard not to immediately put his hands back, maybe one on the back of Louis’ neck and spin him around so they’re facing each other. Maybe if he can see Louis’ face he’ll be able to figure out what’s wrong.

“Baby,” Harry tries. Louis’ shoulders tense. He still doesn’t turn around.

“I’m going to go upstairs and get my jacket,” Louis says evenly, still staring straight in front of him, “and you’re not going to follow me. Then I’m going to go home and you’re still not going to follow me, and I’ll call you when I feel like talking to you. Got it?”

“What?” Harry says. Louis doesn’t say another word before taking off in the direction of the stairs, back still tense, even as he’s walking away. Nothing about this makes sense to Harry, and he’ll be damned if he’s just going to let Louis walk out on him without even the tiniest hint of an explanation.

He catches up to Louis at the door to his own room, twisting the handle and scowling at it when it doesn’t turn. Harry has the key for it tucked into his back pocket, and Louis knows that. He watched Harry put it there earlier, before they’d gone downstairs, the same way he always does when the frat has a party, and normally if Louis wants to get something from Harry’s room he just sticks his fingers into Harry’s jeans and takes the key out himself.

“I have the key,” Harry says stupidly, watching Louis lean his head against the door. He sighs heavily, like he’d actually expected Harry to listen to him and not follow him. Harry doesn’t know why he would have thought that - he’ll do most of what Louis tells him to without even thinking about it, but that doesn’t apply when Louis is clearly upset.

“Well, are you going to unlock it, then?” Louis asks eventually. He doesn’t move from in front of the door.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Harry counters, taking a step closer, and then another one when the first one doesn’t get him yelled at.

“Just give me the key and go back to the party, Harry,” Louis snaps, rubbing his forehead. “Like a toddler, you are, so bad at following directions.”

Harry wasn’t expecting Louis to just admit defeat, because that’s not what Louis does, but it still stings a little, his tone. Practically the only thing that Harry wants out of this relationship is for Louis to be happy.

He unlocks the door and watches Louis gather up his jacket and his wallet a little numbly, still standing in the same spot. “You don’t have to go, you know,” he says, picking at his thumbnail. “You can sleep here and I’ll crash with Niall for the night. I don’t - you don’t have to leave.”

“I don’t want to stay here, Harry, that’s why I’m getting my stuff,” Louis says, starting towards the door.

“At least let me walk you home,” Harry says. Louis is close enough to touch now but he’s not sure how that would go over so he doesn’t try.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of walking myself home, Harry. I don’t need your protection.”

God. Harry doesn’t even know if this is a real fight or not, because he doesn’t fucking know what they’re supposed to be fighting about and it’s incredibly frustrating. “It’s not about you needing my protection,” he starts.

Louis is watching him, jacket bundled up in his arms. “So what’s it about then?” he asks, sweeping one arm out. “Because the way I see it you’re trying to keep me from leaving for no reason.”

“I’m not trying to keep you from leaving,” Harry says, rubbing his palm across his jaw. “Of course I don’t want you to leave. I never want you to leave, but I wouldn’t try to stop you. I just don’t understand why you’re leaving, especially like this. I don’t understand why you were dancing with that guy.”

Louis stiffens. “Why don’t you go ask the girl you were flirting with?” he demands, and shoves his way past Harry and out into the hallway.

Harry’s stunned into stillness long enough that Louis has banged his way out the front door by the time Harry catches up to him, striding down the sidewalk in the direction of his dorm determinedly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry shouts after him. For a second it seems like Louis’ going to ignore him and keep walking, then his shoulders tense and he whirls around, only to come marching back to where Harry’s standing and jab his index finger against Harry’s chest.

“Don’t even fucking start with me,” Louis hisses, poking at Harry’s chest again. “I’m not going to fucking stand around and watch you flirt with some girl while you think I’m not looking. You’re a fucking dick.”

Harry grabs Louis’ hand before he can poke him again. “I wasn’t flirting with her!” If his voice comes out a little higher pitched than normal no one has to know. It’s not like Louis is going to comment on it.

“You know what you do when you flirt?” Louis asks, not even trying to get his hand out of Harry’s grip. “You lean in and put your arm on the wall or the table or whatever. It’s your move, Harry, and you were fucking using it on her.”

This is ridiculous. “I was leaning in because the music was loud and I couldn’t hear what she was saying, Louis, not because I was flirting with her. And even if that’s what it looked like that doesn’t make it okay to find some guy and grind on him!”

Louis looks like he’s about five seconds away from hauling off and punching Harry in the dick. Harry can relate. “Don’t even try to compare my actions to yours.”

Okay. This isn’t working. Clearly Harry has to try another tactic. “I don’t understand how you could even think that I would flirt with someone else. You’re - you’re pretty much everything to me, you know that.”

Louis sighs and uses his free hand to tug on Harry’s necklace until Harry bends a little, and then kisses him with his fingers still tangled in the metal. Harry feels better instantly, letting go of Louis’ hand to thread his hand into his hair, turning the kiss deep and slow.

He’s about to break the kiss and suggest that Louis come back, thinking that Louis has realized that Harry wants him so much there’s no room in his head for anyone else, much less inclination to flirt with someone who’s not him, but Louis breaks it first. “Harold,” he says, still holding onto Harry’s necklace.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Harry murmurs, trying idly to catch Louis’ mouth again.

Louis lets go all at once and takes a step back. “Don’t talk to me until you’re ready to apologize properly.”

The only thing Harry can do is watch him walk away, completely dumbfounded.

Louis barges into the bathroom while Harry’s in the middle of showering, letting the door bounce off of the wall. Harry jumps and cusses, nearly managing to kill himself before he’s realized who it is.

“What are you doing here, Louis?” Harry asks, pulling the curtain aside just enough to be able to see Louis stripping efficiently, letting his clothes crumple where they land. He doesn’t answer, practically shoving Harry out of the way so he can climb underneath the spray.

“Louis,” Harry croaks, hesitantly brushing a couple of fingers down Louis’ spine.

“No one gave you permission to touch me,” Louis says, hunching into the spray a little more. He’s wet all over, now, and Harry’s mouth has gone dry. It’s been eight days since they’ve had sex.

“If you didn’t want me to touch you then why did you get into the shower with me?” Harry asks, drawing his hand back. So they’re still fighting then.

Louis hums something that isn’t even remotely an answer and reaches for Harry’s razor.

Harry’s mouth goes even drier.

“Shaving is practically impossible in the dorm,” he says eventually, after he’s worked up a good lather of soap down his legs, elbowing Harry entirely out of the spray. “And as much as I hate you I have to admit that this building has good water pressure. And privacy.”

“This is probably the least fair thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry says, watching, rapt, as Louis draws the razor up his leg, cutting through the foam neatly. It’s not the first time he’s watched Louis shave - it’s probably not even the twentieth time he’s watched Louis shave. His cock is perfectly aware that every other time he’s watched Louis shave he’s gotten laid immediately afterwards, thickening up between his legs just from this.

Louis shrugs one shoulder and rinses the blade off, taps it against the wall once, and resumes his strokes. “Yes, well, only gentlemen get a piece of this arse, and you’ve certainly been no gentleman.”

God. Louis is probably the most infuriating person Harry has ever met. “I wasn’t fucking flirting.”

Louis’ leg is nearly bare now, of hair and of soap. “You certainly looked like you were flirting.”

Harry holds the razor while Louis rinses and then soaps up his other leg, fingers working over his own skin. He hands it back when Louis holds out a hand and steadies him when he wobbles, one hand on Louis’ hip. “There’s exactly one person that I flirt with, and he’s standing right in front of me.”

He’s never noticed how quick Louis is at this before, probably because every time he’s watched Louis do it before he’s been sure in his knowledge that Louis is going to want to be fucked, after. This is like foreplay in and of itself, watching Louis touch himself like this. Right now he’d pay to watch it for another hour.

“I know your flirting face, Harry,” Louis says. “Seen it enough times, haven’t I?”

Harry grits his teeth and hands Louis the soap back when he gestures for it impatiently. He doesn’t have an answer for that that won’t start another fight, and he’s tired enough that he doesn’t want to have to deal with that right now.

Right now he just wants to spend another ten minutes watching Louis finish shaving and then tumble him into Harry’s bed and get him off before he’s even completely dry, and then sleep for at least eight hours with Louis wrapped up in his arms. Any normal day that wouldn’t be too much to ask. Any normal day that would be what happens.

Watching Louis shave - aside from being one of the hottest fucking things Harry’s ever seen in his life - is almost soothing, the familiar motions of his hands stroking over his own body, getting himself completely smooth, and he’s never really conscious of time passing. He palms his own cock, unable to stop himself, and thinks idly about just jerking off. It’s not like Louis is going to get him off and the last thing Harry wants is to go to sleep hard. Plus if he does it in here it’ll be a quicker clean up.

“Don’t even think about it,” Louis says, concentrating on dragging the razor over his flat little belly, not even looking in Harry’s direction. “If you come on me I’m gonna be even more pissed at you.”

“I can come without having to come on you,” Harry says sharply, gesturing to the two feet of space between them.

A little bit of water hits Harry in the chest. Louis keeps his head bowed, like he didn’t mean to do it. “Name one time you haven’t come on me.”

This might be one of the most infuriating conversations they’ve ever had, and last week they argued about whether rugby counts as a real sport or not.

“I wanked yesterday,” Harry says, stroking his fingers down his shaft, still slick with soap residue. Now he’s going to get himself off just to spite Louis. “Didn’t come on you then.”

It already feels a little bit too good, just his own hand on his cock, stroking gently, definitely not the way Louis would do it. Louis wouldn’t know the meaning of gentle if it bit him in the arse.

The round, gorgeous arse.

“Please,” Louis scoffs. “Bet you wanked onto a picture of me.” He’s nearly finished, and if he’s serious about only having come here to shave in peace he’ll get out after he’s done. Harry speeds up his strokes a little, unwilling to get himself off again without even anything pretty to look at. He would have watched porn the last time except every time he watches porn he only thinks about how Louis would look in that position, or in that outfit, and then his fingers always itch with the urge to pick up his phone and call Louis so they can get off together.

“Haven’t wanked myself off to a picture of you since you stopped refusing to go out with me,” Harry says, thumbing over his cock head. It’s maybe a little bit too honest, considering they’re fighting.

His orgasm is already building in his belly. He can’t be blamed, not when this is the first time he’s gotten off in eight days with Louis standing in the same room as him.

“Whatever,” Louis says, turning back into the spray. It leaves Harry staring at his back, hair matted down to his head, getting a little long again, the flex of his muscles as he reaches up to angle the showerhead properly, his wet arse.

Harry’s mouth waters with the urge to make it wetter in a completely different way. Like he’s reading Harry’s mind, Louis reaches down and slips two soapy fingers in between his cheeks.

There’s no way he’s going to finger himself in front of Harry while they’re fighting.

“Don’t,” Harry says, a little too sharply, pressing up against Louis’ back and nearly getting a mouthful of water.

“I’m cleaning myself, Harold,” Louis says, pressing one of his shoulders back into Harry’s chest, trying to make room between their bodies. Harry grunts and wraps his arms around Louis’ belly, pulling him back even tighter, forcing him to pull his arm out from between them.

“I’ll do it,” Harry says, entirely too desperately. “Don’t - I’ll do it, yeah? No funny business, I promise.”

“No,” Louis says, twisting around in Harry’s arms, skin slick. “You aren’t - ”

Harry kisses him. He just goes for it, all in, tipping Louis back out of the spray and against the wall, mouthing at his bottom lip until he opens up, just enough for Harry to kiss him properly, curling one arm around his shoulders and the other just above his bum. The angle’s not exactly right for their cocks to rub together, but all Harry has to do is slip a thigh in between Louis’ and press up to get Louis arching up into him, fingers digging into Harry’s back.

It’s a move that Harry hadn’t actually been expecting to work, but once it has he keeps going with it, rocking against Louis gently, trying to keep his mind off of the fact that they’re currently in the middle of an argument. This is far from the first time they’ve snogged in a shower, and the most important thing to remember is that sometimes Louis goes randomly limp and turns himself into a ragdoll, so Harry widens his stance and keeps grinding up into him, cock skidding along the newly smooth skin of his belly. This won’t be the first time that he drops Louis, not like this, not in the shower where he might hurt himself and then throw it back in Harry’s face every time he gets mad.

“Just a little,” Harry’s saying before he even knows it, mumbling the words into Louis’ mouth. “Just two, yeah? You’ll get off so good, baby.”

It’s a mistake. He knows it as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He should have just kept grinding against Louis and gotten them off that way, with Louis pinned between him and the wall, and not given Louis a chance to think about what’s going on.

Louis is breathing heavily as he forces Harry off a couple of inches, hands slipping along Harry’s skin. The only thing Harry can do is watch him swallow a couple of times, lips pink and a little swollen, hair sticking to his head, eyes so blue. He’s so pretty and he’s all Harry’s, even when they’re fighting.

It’s another minute before Louis says anything. “If you promise not to get handsy I’ll let you wash my hair.”

Harry might actually cry. “I don’t want to wash your hair. I want to get you off.”

“Yes, well, we can’t always get what we want, can we?” Louis says, pushing Harry off a little more and ducking back underneath the spray. He picks up Harry’s shampoo and snicks open the bottle, which is even less fair. Now he’s gonna go home smelling like Harry and he won’t even let Harry finger him a little. Harry’s cock doesn’t know what to do with this overload of information.

Harry’s brain does know that refusing to wash Louis’ hair is only going to get him in even more shit, though, so he grudgingly accepts the bottle and squeezes some out onto his palms before working it into Louis’ hair, taking his time because this is one thing Louis won’t yell at him for, at least. He could spend an hour washing Louis’ hair and the only thing he would do is stand there and whimper.

It’s absolutely the last thing Harry’s cock needs, but he’s a sucker for making Louis happy, so he does a leisurely, thorough job before he lets Louis step back underneath the spray and wash it out, suds running down his entire body.

Louis doesn’t even look at him as he shuts off the water and steps out of the shower without as much as asking Harry if he’s done, stealing his towel right off the rack. The towel is big on Harry, enough that he can wrap it around himself comfortably, so it looks downright gigantic on Louis as Harry steps out after him and crowds him up against the sink, because if he’s going to come into Harry’s shower and tease him and then steal his towel then Harry’s going to be damn sure that they’re going to dry off together.

Louis doesn’t protest as Harry works himself into the towel, just lets him peel his arms apart and then links them behind Harry’s back, towel mostly covering both of them. It’s a very inefficient method of drying off, but Harry wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry doesn’t sigh as he rubs a hand down Louis’ back, ostensibly drying him but really just using it as an excuse to touch him a little bit more. “I miss you in my bed.”

Eight days is the longest that they’ve gone without sleeping in the same bed in nearly a year. Even before Louis finally clued in they ended up in the same bed at least once a week, and since then it’s been like three or four days a week, and now Harry doesn’t sleep right when he’s alone.

“Well if you weren’t such a prick you wouldn’t have to miss me in your bed,” Louis says, tapping Harry’s cheek none too gently, and Harry.

He still doesn’t think that he was flirting, but if admitting to it is what’s gonna get Louis to let this go, admitting to it is what he’ll do. “I’m sorry.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “No you’re not.” He goes about drying them, entirely too efficiently for Harry’s liking, and before he knows it Louis is putting his clothes back on, hair still damp and sticking to the back of his neck.

Harry catches him by the wrist before he can open the door. “What do I have to do to make this better?” he asks, sliding his fingers down to cover Louis’, pulling them in to rest against his belly. He doesn’t try to slip them underneath Louis’ shirt, mostly because he’s pretty sure that Louis would make him suffer if he tried.

Even more than he already is.

Louis shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he says, leaning back into Harry’s chest for a brief second, and Harry wasn’t joking about missing the feeling of him. His chest aches a little with it, from how nice this feels.

“Can you - don’t leave without kissing me, yeah?” Harry asks, mouthing his way up behind Louis’ ear.

“You’ve had your daily quota of kisses, Harold,” Louis says, but he doesn’t stop Harry from turning him around gently and kissing him again, mouth warm and familiar underneath Harry’s. He doesn’t let them linger, but he does let Harry steal three before he pulls away and ducks out in the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Harry makes a mental note to stop by the shops on his way home and pick up a dozen roses.

So the roses don’t work. This isn’t the first time that the roses haven’t worked - if he didn’t catch the tiny little smile Louis wears whenever Harry brings them up he wouldn’t even know why he still bothers with them. The roses only work about thirty percent of the time, on their own. Normally if he pairs them with a genuine apology they do, though, so he tries that, catching Louis on his way home after all of his classes have ended a couple of days later.

The roses paired with a genuine apology don’t work, either, and Harry’s at a loss.

It’s not a big deal, is the thing. Even if Harry had been flirting - which he still maintains that he wasn’t - Louis knows that he’s the only person Harry wants. Harry spent a bloody year monogamously dating him before he even clued in, for chrissakes. There’s no one out there Harry’s even tempted by.

Desperate times call for desperate measure, though, so Harry goes to Liam.

“I hope you realize that this is literally the last thing that I want to be talking about,” Liam says, rubbing his hand over his face.

Harry adopts his best pleading look and makes an effort to make his body language unthreatening. It’s a tactic that usually works with everyone but Louis. “I need help, Liam.”

Liam waves a hand around for no apparent reason. Sometimes he and Louis as so alike that it’s kind of scary. “You’ve gotten this far without needing help. You managed to get him to stop being mad at you that time that you ruined his prank on Justin, why don’t you just do whatever you did then?”

Harry groans and flops back against Liam’s couch, flinging his arms out to the side. “He’s way more angry at me now than he was then. What I did then is definitely not going to work this time.”

Mostly it wouldn’t work because they need to be in the same room for at least an hour for that to work, and Louis keeps ducking him.

“Maybe just admit that you were wrong and that you’re sorry?” Liam suggests. He’s still perched on the edge of the cushion like he’s going to run away any second. He probably would run away if Harry told him about that time that he got Louis off on that very cushion.

Liam and Zayn shouldn’t throw parties and then let them take the couch if they don’t want that to happen. Harry’s just saying.

“I’m not wrong, though,” Harry says, frustrated. He knows what flirting looks like. He knows what he looks like when he flirts.

“I really can’t believe that you’re making me do this,” Liam tells the ceiling. He takes a deep breath, like he needs to brace himself, before he continues. “You know that I think you’re good for him, and - ”

“We’re good for each other,” Harry interrupts. Liam quirks a tiny little smile.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” he agrees. “You’re good for each other, and you know each other really well, and I know that you know that he’s not exactly the world’s most rational person, and he knows that half of the things that he does don’t make sense.”

Harry blinks. “Was any of that supposed to make sense or is there more?”

“He’s jealous, Harry,” Liam says. “Regardless of whether you were actually flirting or not, he thinks you were and he’s not going to forgive you until you’ve grovelled enough.”

Harry pulls a pillow over his own face and tries to suffocate himself to death. “But how long is that going to take?”

“One time I finished all the tea and forgot to buy more,” Liam says thoughtfully. “Lou refused to talk to me for a week.”

The pillow goes flying to the floor with the force of Harry’s flailing. He levels Liam with his best unimpressed look - he’s been practicing in the mirror so he can use it on Louis, so it’s getting pretty good. “I don’t think that you’re taking this as seriously as you should be.”

Liam sighs and slaps Harry’s thigh, using it to push himself up. “Of course I’m not taking it seriously! This isn’t my relationship, despite what the two of you seem to think. Why can’t someone go to Zayn for advice for once?” He wanders into the kitchen without saying anything else. Harry considers telling him that he also got Louis off on the countertops.

“Zayn always stares at me judgmentally and then tells me that he kicked Louis’ arse into gear and that’s all he’s doing,” Harry says, making his way into the kitchen and leaning up against the doorframe.

“Zayn has all the luck,” Liam laments, digging through the cupboards. He comes out with a half-empty bottle of gin, which he brandishes like a weapon. “I’m going to do three shots of this before you’re allowed to say another word. So just be quiet for a minute.”

Harry manages to stay quiet for all of one. “So I need a plan,” he says sadly, hugging himself. “Otherwise he’s never gonna forgive me.”

Liam takes one look at him and sighs, only a little irritated. Harry bites back his grin. “Does that ever work for you?” Liam asks. “Because I know for a fact that it doesn’t work on Lou.”

Harry shrugs. “It works on him sometimes,” he says, unrepentant. “When he’s in a forgiving mood and he wants to get laid.”

Liam groans loudly, holding up a hand. “I already know too much about your sex life,” he mutters, taking another shot. “So here’s what you’re gonna do.”

Louis isn’t in his room by the time Harry gets there, and he’s been picking and choosing when to answer Harry’s calls, so Harry just sinks himself down onto the floor and tips his head back, prepared to wait as long as it takes for Louis to get home from wherever he is.

As long as it takes turns out to be ten minutes. Harry can hear him coming down the hall, presumably talking to someone on the phone, voice drifting. It’s probably Zayn - when he talks to Liam he’s a lot louder, a lot more yell-y. When he talks to Niall it’s nearly the same, except for the fact that in order to understand him Harry has to actually concentrate. Niall seems to get it, though, judging from the fast pace of their conversations. He doesn’t even sound particularly soft when he’s on the phone with Harry and he’s always just randomly hanging up.

Neither of them say anything until Louis comes to a slow stop, tips of his dirty Vans nudging up against Harry’s knees. “You gonna stay there or are you going to let me get into my own room?”

“Depends on whether you’re gonna let me come in with you,” Harry says, poking idly at Louis’ untied shoelace. He could tie it for him but that’s something that he does when they’re not fighting and he can’t reward this type of behaviour.

Louis doesn’t say anything for a minute, weighing it over. Harry fiddles with his shoelace a little more, resisting the urge to just tie it. That wouldn’t send the right message at all. Louis is still mad but so is Harry, a little. He still doesn’t understand how Louis could ever think that he was flirting with someone else. Harry doesn’t flirt with people other than Louis. He’s not even sure that he remembers how anymore - flirting with Louis is its own brand of crazy.

“You can come in for ten minutes,” Louis decides graciously, unlocking the door and squeezing past Harry to get in first. It gives Harry a nice view of his arse, and god, Harry’s missed that arse. The lengths that he’s willing to go to get back into that arse are a little extreme.

“Can I kiss you for ten minutes?” Harry asks, pushing himself to his feet and stuffing his hands into his pockets before trailing Louis into the room, going immediately for the bed, throwing himself face down onto it. It smells like Louis, sheets all mussed up underneath him. Harry inhales deeply. It smells really good.

Something soft hits him in the back of the head. Harry doesn’t even bother to check what it was. “You can kiss this for ten minutes, if you want,” Louis says. It must be some sort of stuffed animal, although Harry’s never seen one in Louis’ room before. He wonders vaguely where it came from.

Harry sighs and rolls over, folding his arms underneath his head so he can look at Louis, moving around the room, tidying up a little. “Oh, I got you something.” He sits up and digs a hand into his back pocket, pulling out a Crunchie bar. It’s a little melted because he forgot about it, but it’s actually not too bad. He holds it out like an offering.

“Nice. Love those things,” Louis says, crossing the room so he can sit on the bed next to Harry. He takes it out of Harry’s hand and opens it, struggling a little.

“I know,” Harry says, taking the piece that Louis breaks off for him and popping it into his mouth. He chews as he watches Louis lick chocolate from his fingers, dick stirring a little, but how could it not when Louis’ little pink tongue is lapping at his own fingers. It’s basically porn.

Louis eats the rest of the candy bar in silence, sucking melted chocolate off of his fingers as he goes, and it’s just - it’s so normal. Louis isn’t doing it to be flashy, or showy, and he’s definitely not doing it because he’s trying to get Harry hard. It’s just the way he eats candy bars - slightly sensually.

“Thanks,” Louis says finally, wiping his fingers off on his jeans. He slumps into Harry’s side, practically curling up in his lap, and god, Harry’s missed this too, even though it’s only been a week, just being able to touch Louis like this, without any expectation of sex or anything like that. Just touching.

“I know you said ten minutes, and I want to respect that, but the thing is that we could also have a nap,” Harry murmurs to the top of Louis’ head.

“Are you gonna try to take advantage of me if we take a nap?” Louis asks, toeing his shoes off one at a time. “I’m not that kind of girl, you know.”

There’s only been a handful of times that Louis hasn’t been that type of girl, actually, but Harry doesn’t say that. Harry has a pretty high sex drive but Louis matches him. “You’re a respectable girl, I know,” he says, lying back down and taking Louis with him, trying to get them both underneath the blanket.

“That wasn’t actually a no,” Louis points out, splaying himself out on Harry’s chest. He slips his fingers up Harry’s bare arm until he can tangle their hands together, over their heads. He smells warm and startlingly familiar.

“This my shirt?” Harry asks, tugging at the bottom hem, hidden underneath the blanket. It’s a plain white cotton t-shirt, a little big on Louis, but that’s the way he wears his clothes sometimes, so if it wasn’t for the smell Harry wouldn’t actually be able to tell.

“It’s Liam’s,” Louis denies, tucking his face into the curve of Harry’s shoulder. Harry doesn’t believe that for a second, but he’s content to keep that to himself for now. The warm, swoopy feeling in his belly spreads up through his chest, all over his body, and the only thing he can do is clutch Louis tighter and breathe him in.

They’ll be okay.

By the time Louis steps foot outside of his 8:30am stats class, Harry’s waiting, beanie pulled down over his head and still bleary-eyed, clutching two cups of tea in his hands. Louis doesn’t even see him at first, talking to one of his peers as he comes out the door. Harry waits patiently, leaning up against a wall, until Louis’ finished, parting ways with the girl with a little flick of his hand.

Harry makes an effort to perk up at least a little, but it’s 10:30 in the morning and it’s hard. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says, falling into step beside Louis. Louis takes the tea out of Harry’s hand and drains about half of it before he replies.

“This your way of sucking up, then?”

Now that Harry has a hand free he can lope an arm around Louis’ shoulder and pull him in so they’re walking together, side by side. “It’s the full Harry Styles boyfriend experience,” he says, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize that we were still in high school, what with you walking me in between me classes and all,” Louis says, eye roll audible in his tone.

Harry squeezes him a little tighter. “It’s because I love you so much,” he says, nuzzling the side of Louis’ head, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. It smells fresh, still. He must have showered this morning, before his class.

Mmm. Wet naked Louis. Harry wishes that he could have been there to see it.

“Yeah, it’s not at all because you did something wrong and now you’re trying to make up for it,” Louis mutters, finishing his tea and pitching the empty cup into a garbage bin ten feet away.

Harry is so impressed by him, all the time. “So you’re just going to ignore me telling you that I love you.”

They come to a slow stop in front of the building Louis has his next class in. “That was the plan, yeah,” Louis says, but Harry sees that eye-crinkling smile that Louis ducks his head to try to hide.

Breathtaking.

“But now it’s not because the full Harry Styles boyfriend experience is awesome,” Harry presses.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve walked me to class, Harold,” Louis sighs, turning into Harry’s body fully.

There’s no answer that doesn’t involve bringing up how flushed and happy Louis gets every time Harry does it, so instead Harry brings a hand up and traces his thumb along the curve of Louis’ jaw. Louis is openly watching his mouth, waiting for Harry to kiss him, and who is Harry not to indulge him.

They kiss slow and sweet on the steps of the building with people passing them, and it doesn’t last long, because Louis does actually have to get to class, but by the time it’s finished Harry feels about a thousand times better. Louis may still be mad at him but this is going to work, Harry’s sure of it.

Maybe he sets the plan back a little by patting Louis’ bum as he walks away, but it’s been so long since Harry’s been able to feel it properly and he needs something to get him by.

The next step in the full Harry Styles boyfriend experience is to pick Louis up after his classes are done for the day and take him to Tesco to pick up some frozen pancakes - why Louis insists that he needs to have those on hand at all times, Harry doesn’t know. He makes much better ones - and then wander the aisles together for a little while.

Harry also doesn’t get the obsession with Tesco. Louis can spend a good twenty minutes just in the tea aisle. He’s got more tea stuffed in random corners of his dorm room than Harry’s mum has in her entire house.

“This becoming a thing?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows as he comes out of the building. He’s got his rucksack slung over one shoulder, and Harry knows that he carries around a shit ton of books on Thursdays, so he takes it from him and slings it over his own shoulder.

“Told you earlier,” Harry says easily, slipping his hand into Louis’ back pocket as they start walking.

“Yeah, yeah, the full boyfriend experience, I got it,” Louis says. He doesn’t protest the hand, so Harry leaves it there, curling his fingers against the curve. They fall into step with each other quickly, and Harry guides them towards the carpark, content to take his time. It’s a nice day for once, sun shining weakly and warm enough that Louis isn’t even wearing a jacket.

He’ll probably get cold and demand Harry’s by the time the sun goes down, but Harry has a little bit of a thing for seeing him in his clothes so that works for both of them.

Louis doesn’t even bother to ask where they’re going, just launches into a story about one of his professors calling out some girl for constantly texting during class, and Harry’s got his head bent, listening and watching Louis gesture, so he’s not exactly one hundred percent looking where they’re going when they bump into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry says automatically, looking up. They’ve come to a complete standstill.

“It’s alright,” the person says, and Harry recognizes that voice.

“Nicole,” he exclaims, reaching out his free hand to steady her so she doesn’t go tipping over again. “It’s been a while, how have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” she answers, leaning in a little, in a way that seems a little awkward. Louis is tense against his side, clearly wanting to get out of there, so Harry does his best to hurry it up, parting ways after a minute.

Harry wiggles his fingers a little against Louis’ bum. “Alright, I might be able to see how you could misconstrue that as flirting from across a room.”

Louis elbows him weakly. “That’s what I’ve been fucking telling you.”

The drive to Tesco is short and almost surprisingly pleasant - Louis doesn’t seem to be holding the incident on campus against him, which is probably a good thing. He spends most of the drive fiddling with the pre-sets on the radio, hopefully changing them back from when he set them all to that J-Pop station. Harry still hasn’t been able to figure out how to change that.

Louis also finishes his story about the professor, and by the time Harry parks the car and gets out Louis is waiting with his hand outstretched. They walk into the store with their fingers tangled together, and Louis immediately heads for the tea aisle, barely even waiting for Harry to grab a basket.

“You don’t need any more tea,” Harry says reasonably. He crowds up behind Louis as Louis peruses his options, lifting up onto his toes to snatch a box of Yorkshire off of the shelf.

“You say that now but what will you be saying when the zombie apocalypse happens?” Louis demands, tossing the tea into the basket. “Do you really want to risk dealing with me when I’m tea deprived?”

That’s a good point, actually. “Where would you go if the world suddenly became overrun with zombies and you couldn’t stay in your dorm anymore?” Harry asks, taking Louis’ hand again as they wander down the rest of the aisle, towards the coffee.

“What kind of question is that, Harold?” Louis asks, making like he’s going to steer them down the baby aisle, and there’s no way that Harry can handle that. He clutches Louis’ hand tighter and pulls him past it, ignoring the smirk lingering on Louis’ stupidly pretty face. “Obviously I’d go find Liam so he could protect me. Honestly.”

“What is it with you and Liam?” Harry complains, wandering in the direction of the produce aisle. Louis touches things as they pass, fingers wandering over apples and oranges and pears.

Harry’s trying to get stuff so he can make dinner, though, so he keeps going. “I love Liam and I’m waiting for him to sweep me off my feet so I can be done with you,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s fingers. “He’s gonna buy me a ring.”

“He’s not going to buy you a ring,” Harry mutters, tossing a couple of red peppers into the basket, and then a couple of green ones. “I’m going to buy you a fucking ring.”

“Yeah? Gonna get down on your knees and everything?” Louis asks, still tucked up tight against Harry’s arm.

Harry doesn’t even look around before he replies, “Get down on my knees for you plenty. Should invest in kneepads with how much I’m down there for you.”

Louis laughs, tucking his entire face into Harry’s shoulder, and god, this is grossly domestic, grocery shopping with his boyfriend.

Harry loves it.

“Just because you know how I like to have sex doesn’t mean that I’m not waiting for Liam to break and admit that he’s in love with me,” Louis says, picking up a package of mushrooms and tossing them in a way that’s probably meant to land them in the basket. Harry has to angle it in order to catch them, but Louis keeps walking like he doesn’t care.

He probably doesn’t.

“If you ever leave me for Liam,” Harry begins, pulling on Louis’ hand until he turns to face him.

Louis raises his eyebrows. “You’ll what?” he asks challengingly.

“I’ll probably cry myself to sleep every night for the rest of my life,” Harry admits.

“Damn right you will,” Louis mutters, smile brightening every inch of his face, and Harry has to kiss him. Does kiss him, right there in the middle of the produce aisle of Tesco at 7:30pm on a Thursday night.

If this isn’t the life then Harry doesn’t know what is.

He drops Louis off at the dorm half an hour later and walks him up to the door, ignoring Louis’ inquisitive stare on the side of his face the entire way, swinging their hands between them just for the way it makes Louis smile.

“You know this isn’t the way I expected this day to end,” Louis says, kicking dirt at Harry’s shoes idly.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? How did you expect it to end, then?”

“Thought that you’d at least try to get me to come home with you,” Louis says. “Little bit disappointed, if I’m honest.”

Harry pointedly doesn’t say that they could have gone home together every night this week if it wasn’t for Louis overreacting, but he knows exactly how much of a bad idea that would be so he doesn’t. Plus just because Louis overreacted doesn’t mean that his feelings aren’t valid, so.

Instead Harry lets go of Louis’ hand in favour of cupping his jaw and kissing him, using his other hand on the small of Louis’ back to pull him in. It gets dirty fast, tongues slick and warm against each other’s, and if anyone saw this there would undoubtedly be a significant amount of teasing.

Harry’s used to it. Louis knows a lot of people on this campus, and Harry knows a lot of people on this campus, and between the two of them they’re got a shit-ton of friends who like to make fun of them whenever they get a little too touchy-feely. Which is a lot.

“Don’t make plans for tomorrow,” Harry orders when they break apart, swiping his thumb over Louis’ pinkened bottom lip, just because he can.

Louis’ mouth breaks into a tiny little knowing smile. “Yeah? What’s going on tomorrow, then?”

“It’s the full Harry Styles boyfriend experience,” Harry says, kissing Louis one more time. “Six o’clock, okay?” He turns around and jogs back to the car without waiting for Louis to answer. He’s got some planning to do.

Six o’clock rolls around much faster than Harry is really ready for, but he makes it to Louis’ dorm with five minutes to spare and knocks insistently on the door until Louis pulls it open, wearing the fakest grumpy face Harry has ever seen.

“I was trying to have a nap,” he complains, but he doesn’t look like he was trying to take a nap. He looks like he’s ready to go, dressed in the jeans that really accentuate his arse and a black button down shirt open over a simple white t-shirt, and he’s not wearing his braces because he only busts those out for really special occasions, but he’s even got socks and shoes on.

“Yeah, obviously,” Harry agrees, brushing their mouths together lightly. Louis hooks their pinkies together, and the kiss lasts much longer than Harry really means it to, but can he really be blamed when Louis looks like this?

“So what are we doing?” Louis asks, letting Harry lead him out of the room and down the hall, weaving through people and not letting Louis get distracted.

Harry hums something that’s not an answer and unlocks the car before pulling the passenger side door open. Louis looks at him, eyebrows raising slowly. “You’re really going all out tonight,” he remarks, slipping inside the car without even giving Harry a chance to catch a single glimpse of his arse.

He’s so smooth sometimes Harry can barely even stand it. Pun absolutely intended.

“What kind of date is this, you didn’t even bring me any flowers,” Louis says, snapping his seatbelt into place.

“They’re in the back seat,” Harry says absently, pulling out of the parking spot.

“No they’re not,” Louis says, twisting around to look. “Fuck, they are.” He pulls the bouquet of roses into his lap and cradles them gently, bringing them up to his face and inhaling, smelling them for a solid minute before he stops. Harry bites back his smile and makes a left-hand turn.

The thing about the roses is that they’re such a simple thing but they make Louis so pleased, every single time, and Harry would love to buy him a rose every single day for the rest of his life, just for the way he smiles.

“You’re something else, Harry Styles,” Louis murmurs. He takes Harry’s hand and weaves their fingers together on top of the console in between their seats, and Harry wants to kiss him really very badly.

“Something good, I hope,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ fingers.

“You’re alright,” Louis says, biting back his smile, and Harry loves him and he has plans for this evening.

It’s only another few minutes before they’re pulling up to the restaurant, and in that time Louis has fiddled with nearly all of the buttons this car has, pressing them randomly - and he still wonders why Harry doesn’t let him drive this car.

It’s not a super fancy restaurant, but Harry has still made reservations, so it only takes a couple of minutes to get to their table. Louis buries his face in a menu immediately, not even glancing up at Harry, and normally when they go out to dinner Louis bugs him for a solid ten minutes before he even picks the menu up.

“Hey,” Harry says, nudging Louis’ foot with one of his own.

“What,” Louis sighs, peeking out over his menu. This is a restaurant that they’ve been to literally at least ten times before, and the last four times Louis has ordered the same thing. He has no need to be examining the menu this closely, is what Harry is saying.

Instead of saying any of that, Harry asks, “Do you know what you’re going to get?”

“I’m going to get the most expensive thing they have and drain your bank account,” Louis says, flipping the menu back up.

The most expensive thing they have on this menu is a steak that doesn’t even come close to breaking Harry’s budget. Louis would have to order at least twenty of them before Harry started to sweat. “You do that, then.”

There’s silence for a couple of seconds, and then Louis is lowering the menu a little bit to look at Harry’s face. “What are you getting?”

“Depends on what you’re getting,” Harry says, propping his elbows up on the table.

“I want pasta,” Louis decides, putting his menu down fully. “And chips. Alfredo pasta and chips.”

“That’s disgusting,” Harry says mildly.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “If it’s so disgusting why do you look like you want it now as well?”

Fuck. Harry really needs to work on not letting everything he’s thinking show on his face. “So the alfredo pasta and the fish and chips? Or a sandwich?”

“The fish,” Louis says, bouncing in his seat a couple of times. “Fuck, I gotta pee. Order me a pint.” He squeezes Harry’s shoulder as he slips by, and by the time he comes back Harry’s already placed both of their orders and their drinks are sitting on the table.

Louis takes his glass after he’s sat back down and sniffs at it. “Mm, smells nice. What is it?” He takes a sip without waiting for an answer, lips coming away pink and wet, and for a second Harry’s distracted by the visual.

“It’s whatever the special is,” Harry says, hooking his foot around the bottom of Louis’ chair and dragging him closer. “I don’t remember.”

“Couldn’t even splurge on something that’s not on sale?” Louis grumbles, plucking a bread stick out of the basket and breaking it in half. He offers part of it to Harry, butter gleaming on his fingers after Harry takes it, and then the only thing Harry can do is watch helplessly as he sucks his fingers clean, eyes lowered like he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing.

Harry eats his own part of the breadstick and makes sure that he’s swallowed before he answers. “I’m gonna splurge and buy you the molten lava cake for dessert. Maybe some nice wine to go along with it.”

“You tryin’ to get me drunk, Styles?” Louis asks, looking up at him from underneath his eyelashes. “Think it’s the only way I’m gonna put out?”

It doesn’t take much to get Louis to put out. It definitely doesn’t take a dinner date and romancing him to get him to put out. Usually all it takes is that threadbare pair of basketball shorts. “This is what we in the finer circles like to call wining and dining, Tomlinson,” Harry answers, settling his arm around the back of Louis’ chair.

“Gonna wine and dine your way right into my pants, though,” Louis says softly, leaning into Harry’s side. Harry’s spared from answering by the arrival of their food, which is probably a good thing, because the only response that Harry has for that isn’t entirely appropriate for a public setting.

The rest of dinner is really very nice - the restaurant isn’t too crowded, and Harry makes Louis laugh so hard that he nearly chokes on his own spit with a story about one of his professors, and the food is good.

Dessert, though. Dessert is an exercise in restraint, because Louis takes it upon himself to to make a mess of his fingers and suck the chocolate off, making truly indecent sounds along the way, and he’s flushed and happy and oh jesus Harry needs to get him home and fuck him.

They’re really lucky that the owners of this fine establishment really like them, because they haven’t gotten banned with their truly gross displays of public affection, so Harry steals a deep, dirty kiss because he can and because he wants to and because he can’t not when Louis’ mouth looks the way it does.

Somehow they make it back to the car with the bill paid and everything, and if Harry has to pin Louis up against the door to snog him a little before they get in no one has to know.

“So,” Louis says, twisting his hands in his lap as Harry starts the car, “that was some good cake.”

Harry barely even remembers how the cake had tasted. “Yeah,” he agrees, and of course, of course they hit a red light almost immediately.

He’s about to make a complaint about it, sure that Louis will agree with him, but then there’s lightning quick pressure on his cock, fingers giving him a firm squeeze.

Harry’s head thuds back against the seat. “Jesus,” he gasps, arching up into the touch. It’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Light’s green,” Louis says, voice soft. He’s palming himself now, fingers sure as he squeezes down over his jeans. His cheeks are pink and he’s biting his lip, and it’s been two weeks since Harry’s gotten laid.

He hits the gas a little harder than really necessary.

“You’re a right menace,” Harry says, concentrating on his driving, gripping the steering wheel hard.

“I’m gonna let you fuck me,” Louis says, blinking heavily. Harry can’t even look at him without getting distracted, so he stares at the road, at the streets passing, and doesn’t answer until they’ve pulled up in front of the fraternity.

Louis is moving the second that they come to a stop, before Harry’s even put the car in park, undoing his seatbelt and trying to clamber his way right into Harry’s lap as Harry pulls the keys out of the ignition. They barely fit, both of them crammed into the driver’s seat of Harry’s car, but they’re kissing too fast for it to even matter, mouths moving slickly against each other’s, wet and hot, and for a minute Harry doesn’t even remember that they need to take this inside, not with the way Louis’ bum feels in his hands after so long.

“Okay, inside,” Harry gasps, squeezing Louis’ arse through his jeans. Louis’ shudder echoes right through Harry’s body. He climbs off and squirms his way out of the driver’s side door, putting so much pressure on Harry’s blood heavy cock that he has to take a few seconds to grit his teeth and get himself under control before he can follow.

Louis has disappeared by the time Harry makes it through the door, but it’s not like it’s not obvious where he’s gone off to, so Harry climbs the stairs and throws the door to his own room open, and he’s pretty much stopped in his tracks.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?”

Louis throws him a look that’s sort of sultry but mostly insulting. “You know what I do when you’re not around to fuck me when I want it?”

Harry’s mouth is a little dry. “Put a couple of fingers inside of yourself and get yourself off thinking about my cock?”

“No,” Louis says, rolling his eyes, and then stops to consider. “Well, yeah, but that’s not where I was going with this.”

It’s pretty hard to concentrate on what he’s talking about when he’s lounging on Harry’s bed completely naked, but Harry isn’t going to point that out. “So where were you going with it, then?” He shuts the door behind him and leans against it, just for a minute. Just so he can take a minute to drink in his fill of how gorgeous Louis is.

“I send you messages about how much I hate you,” Louis says, slipping one hand down and curling his fingers around his cock. “And then I get myself off thinking about your cock.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, pushing himself off of the door and inching a little closer to the bed. “I was a dick.”

Louis sighs and slumps back against the pillows, splaying himself out even more attractively. “You were a dick.” Harry finishes crossing the room and leans down over Louis’ body, skimming his mouth over the curve of Louis’ jaw.

“I’m so sorry, and I love you, and I was such a dick,” Harry mumbles, pressing his mouth on as much of Louis’ skin as he can.

“You’re very lucky that I’m such a forgiving person,” Louis informs him, fingers slipping across Harry’s skin. “If it wasn’t for me you’d probably die alone.”

“But now I have you and I plan to keep you forever,” Harry says, lining up their mouths so they can snog for a few hot, glorious minutes. His knees aren’t happy with him by the end of it, but his cock really fucking is. He’s reluctant to break the kiss, but it’s been two weeks and this night is far from over. “What do you want?”

Louis bites at his bottom lip, trying to pull Harry back down. “You mean you don’t have any ideas?”

It’s challenging in the best fucking way. Louis doesn’t appreciate being told what to do but he does appreciate it when Harry makes the sex decisions. Harry’s fucking awesome at making sex decisions. “Got a couple, yeah, but if there’s something you want,” he lets the sentence trail at the end.

Louis shrugs. “Trust you,” is all he says, and it goes straight to Harry’s cock, no way around it.

“Okay,” Harry says, clearing his throat. He taps Louis’ hip and raises his eyebrows. “Turn over, yeah?”

“Why?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows right back and tugging at Harry’s shirt. “And don’t you want to take off your clothes first?”

That’s a good point, actually, but Harry can’t say that without Louis thinking that he’s won something. “It’s been two weeks since I’ve had my mouth on you,” he says instead, dragging his thumb across Louis’ skin, towards his cock. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

Louis shifts his hips pointedly. “Don’t need to turn over in order for you to taste me.”

If that’s what he wants Harry will do it, no hesitation whatsoever, but. “S’not like you to want to get your cock sucked over being eaten out.”

“Variety is the spice of life, Harold,” Louis says, flicking Harry’s hand.

Harry still doesn’t believe him, but chances are Louis will only last two or three minutes before he’s begging Harry to eat him out instead, so Harry shrugs to himself and presses a kiss to Louis’ side before wrapping his fingers around Louis’ cock and going down on him, slow and steady, licking over just the head at first. Louis’ fingers tangle in his hair immediately, and he’s already making soft, whimpery little noises, the kind of noises that Harry likes best.

Sucking the head of Louis’ cock into his mouth rewards him with more of those noises, but they sound kind of lost, and Harry definitely doesn’t like that, so he pulls off and cradles Louis’ balls in the palm of his hand, stroking over soft skin. “Shh, baby, I got you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of Louis’ thigh.

“Gimme one of your ideas,” Louis says, tugging at a strand of hair. “Changed my mind.”

Basically what he’s saying is that he does want to be eaten out, but Harry won’t point that out. He’s been longing to get his mouth on that bum again literally since Louis walked out of the party and he’s not going to do anything else to jeopardize his chances.

He gives Louis’ cock another kiss, brief and only a little bit wet. “Turn over.”

Louis does it without arguing, this time, nearly kicking Harry in the face as he goes, and he immediately buries his face in his arms, arse practically in Harry’s face and so fucking inviting, but there’s something Harry has to do first.

“Hey,” Harry says, leaning next to Louis’ shoulder. Louis turns his head and cracks one eye open, raising his eyebrow. “I really, really love you.”

God. Harry intends to make Louis smile like that every day for the rest of their lives. “I really, really love you too.”

Harry kisses him, just for a minute. “Gonna eat you out now, baby,” he whispers into Louis’ mouth. He imagines that he can see the slow flush spreading over Louis’ face, too close for that to actually happen. They kiss one more time, wet and lingering, and then Harry pushes himself up off of his knees, strips his shirt over his head, and settles down in between Louis’ thighs.

Having that round, glorious arse in his face after two weeks is nearly too much. He bites the swell of it, enjoying the tiny little squeak that Louis makes, and then kisses it better. It’s already so fucking good, so much so that Harry has to slip a hand down into his own pants and grab at his cock, just so he doesn’t give in to the temptation to rut down into the sheets.

“Missed being able to taste you,” Harry murmurs, letting go of his cock to spread Louis’ cheeks apart, put that gorgeous pink little hole on display. He rubs his thumb over it, making Louis shiver and grind down into the sheets. “Always taste so good, baby, you don’t even know.”

He doesn’t waste any more time, hunkering down and putting his mouth to use, licking over Louis’ hole, getting him nice and wet with Harry’s spit. Louis starts making noise immediately, the same way he always does, and Harry can never figure out whether he knows he’s doing it or not but it’s not like it matters - it always goes straight to Harry’s cock either way.

“Can’t believe it took you so long to admit that you’re a dick,” Louis gasps, twitching on the bed.

“I’m a truly terrible person,” Harry says, coaxing Louis’ hole open enough that he can wiggle his tongue in there, immediately rewarded by Louis clenching down. He’s making shivery noises, now, the kind he makes when Harry’s doing something he really likes, and normally Harry would spend a lot longer eating him out but it’s been two weeks.

“So let me ask you something,” Harry says, rubbing his thumb over Louis’ wet hole firmly, not quite dipping inside. Louis makes a vaguely curious noise, completely lax in Harry’s hands, like he’d let Harry do anything he wants to him. “You want me to eat you out some more or do you want something else?”

Louis turns his head, glancing down at Harry. “Something like what?”

“Something that involves a little more cock in your bum,” Harry says, unable to stop himself from smiling. He kisses the inside of Louis’ thigh, mostly sweetly and with only a little bit of teeth, and is rewarded with Louis’ cock jerking against his cheek.

“Oh, are we going to go find Liam?” Louis asks brightly, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair.

One of these days Harry is going to leave him for Liam. “It’s time for you to be quiet, now,” Harry says, lifting up just long enough to kick his jeans and pants off, towards the end of the bed. Louis takes it upon himself to decide that now’s the best time to turn back over, kicking at Harry’s sides as he does, and by the time he’s settled again Harry’s cock is even harder from all the squirming.

He does love having a squirmy boy on his cock, and Louis might actually be the squirmiest boy in the entire world.

“I’m not a quiet girl,” Louis says, loping his arms around Harry’s neck and kissing at the side of his face, the corner of his mouth. “You fucked up and you’re gonna hear about it for the rest of your life.”

Harry doesn’t care if he has to hear about how he’s fucked up every day for the rest of his life if it means that he’s going to have Louis at his side every day for the rest of his life. “I’m gonna make it up to you, though,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ mouth, hitching his thigh up around Harry’s back. It slides easily, and for the first time Harry notices exactly how smooth Louis is.

He must have shaved just before Harry picked him up. Harry might actually come before he even gets a finger inside of him. “You’re doing a pretty shit job so far,” Louis says, wrapping his other leg around Harry’s back completely on his own.

“You got yourself all nice for me,” Harry says instead of addressing the issue at hand. Louis’ skin is soft and smooth underneath Harry’s hands, warm. They should never fight again. Or maybe they should have a sex time out like on that one show. Then they could fight all the time if they wanted to.

“Knew I was gonna get laid,” Louis says, looking at Harry from underneath his eyelashes. Harry’s heart throbs.

Or maybe that’s his cock. Louis does have a stupidly pretty face, after all, and Harry’s really very attracted to him.

“You knew, huh?” Harry asks, trailing his fingers up Louis’ thighs to settle around his waist, holding him tight. “I’m just that predictable.”

“Knew that you’d want to fuck me,” Louis murmurs, and Harry has to kiss him for that, so he does, holding himself up on his elbows, hair brushing Louis’ cheeks.

Harry could kiss Louis for days, no question about it, but they also haven’t had sex for days, so he fumbles around for the lube, banging his hand against the table hard enough that he swears into Louis’ mouth. Louis laughs at him, bright and happy, and Harry’s so in love that it almost hurts.

Still, though. “One of these days I’m gonna break my hand and you’ll be stuck fingering yourself,” Harry says, slicking up his fingers.

He’s just far enough away that he can see Louis’ eyebrow raise. “Got two hands, don’t you?”

“You never let me watch you finger yourself,” Harry laments, slipping his index finger inside Louis’ arse with ease, crooking it against his prostate. Louis bites at the inside of his cheek, fingers pressing into the back of Harry’s neck.

“’S what I got you for,” Louis says, trying to move, and Harry doesn’t know if he’s aiming for a kiss or for another finger but he give him both anyway, the finger first so he can feel the way Louis’ mouth goes soft and lax underneath his.

Louis’ arse is tight and clinging, the perfect fit for what Harry’s got, and if it was any other time Harry would be content just to finger him until he’s gasping and coming, nearly breaking Harry’s fingers off in the process, but.

It’s been two weeks.

“Living, breathing sex toy,” Louis mumbles, and it takes Harry a minute, but he gets it.

He taps his fingertips against Louis’ prostate a couple of times before scissoring them, trying to spread the lube more or less evenly. “If that’s something that you want to tell yourself,” he says, nudging a third finger in before Louis can even think to ask for it. “But we both know that a sex toy would never be able to make you feel as good as I do, baby.”

Their heads are pressed together, and Harry’s looking down the line of Louis’ body, to where he can just barely see his hand disappearing, Louis’ cock lying flushed and hard against his belly. He can’t actually see Louis swallow, but he can definitely feel it, hear it.

“Bullshit,” Louis says. He’s practically slurring his words out, mouth wet and open, and who is Harry not to take advantage of that?

Louis is making lost, whimpery little noises into Harry’s mouth, tongue slick and warm against Harry’s, and Harry definitely should have thought about it earlier, the condom, but he fumbles around for it now, managing to get it rolled down onto his cock and some lube onto it despite the way Louis is clinging to him, desperate and needy.

There’s nothing better than the way Louis sounds when they have sex, and Harry would never, never shush him and actually mean it, but he will always talk him through it when it seems like Louis needs it.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Harry murmurs, catching Louis’ mouth for another kiss before he pulls his fingers out and adjusts Louis’ body, hands underneath his bum to fit him into the vee of Harry’s crotch properly.

“Am I?” Louis asks, a little breathy. He rubs his thumb over the nape of Harry’s neck. “You love me?”

Like that’s even remotely a real question. Harry loves this boy to the ends of the Earth and back again and he fucking knows it. Still, though, Harry’ll pretty much take any chance he gets to tell him just how much, so it’s not like this is a chore. “I’m going to love you for the rest of my life,” he says, and kisses Louis’ smile off of his face, lining up his cock with Louis’ hole before he starts pushing in.

He’s not sure exactly what happens to Louis when he’s first pushing in, but he always gets clingier, trying not to let Harry pull away more than an inch in a way that leads Harry to believe that maybe it’s more overwhelming than Louis would ever admit to. Not in a bad way - Louis insists that it doesn’t hurt - but more like he’s been wanting it for so long that it takes his brain a minute to catch up with the fact that he’s actually getting it.

“My perfect boy,” Harry says, one hand on Louis’ face as he pushes in, and continues murmuring nonsense until he’s all the way in.

Louis clenches down around him, maybe an indication that he’s ready for Harry to move or maybe something else, Harry doesn’t know. Either way, he takes it for Louis being ready and starts moving, thrusting slow and deep, and it’s been two fucking weeks so he thinks he can be excused from already feeling the tingling of his orgasm building in his belly.

“Think I’m almost ready to forgive you,” Louis says, tugging on a strand of Harry’s hair.

“Almost?” Harry asks obediently, because he knows what Louis is angling for. He pulls up a little and starts nailing him twice as fast, hips working.

“Forgive you when you make me come,” Louis answers.

Harry can do that. Harry can definitely do that, easily, so he goes for it, kissing Louis again so their mouths slip hot and wet against each other’s, thrusting the way that always makes Louis’ toes curl, the way Louis always denies, and doesn’t let up until Louis starts gasping in his mouth.

“So gorgeous, baby,” Harry says, can’t not say it, not when Louis is five seconds away from coming, and if it mostly gets lost in Louis’ mouth it’s not like he doesn’t know anyway. “Love you so much.”

Louis’ head tips back, taking his mouth away, but it leaves the line of his throat bare, so Harry attacks that instead, working on giving him a nice fresh lovebite while Louis shudders out his orgasm caught on Harry’s cock.

Harry’s going to marry this boy one day, and fuck if that thought doesn’t do it for him, following Louis over the edge and thrusting a little mindlessly, coming hard.

“One of these days that’s going to get old,” Louis decides after a few minutes, still pinned underneath Harry’s weight.

Harry shifts but doesn’t pull out, cock slowly flagging in a way that’s entirely too pleasant still surrounded by the tightness of Louis’ arse. “What?”

Louis elbows him a little weakly, but he’s not asking Harry to move and Harry doesn’t plan to until he does. “How you can make me come by telling me you love me.”

As if. “That’s never going to get old,” Harry tells Louis’ throat, giving it another little nibble. “I’m gonna be making you come like that when you’re sixty.”

“Ew, gross old people sex,” Louis says. Harry doesn’t have to be looking at him to know that he’s flushing, pink in the face from Harry saying that they’re going to grow old together. He always does.

“After the kids have moved out and we’ve retired to a cottage in the country,” Harry continues, stroking Louis’ bare skin, sliding over his thigh, still spread around Harry’s hips.

“That’s when I’ll leave you for Liam,” Louis says sagely, and Harry thinks that he’s justified when he lets all of his weight collapse onto him.

Especially when the fight that follows leads to round two.

Harry’s birthday is a big event. There’s a huge party at the frat, and the noise spills out onto the lawn ten minutes after the first few people have shown up. By the end of the night they’re both drunk enough that all they can manage is some sloppy grinding before they pass out, but that’s okay, because Harry’s actual birthday isn’t for another three days and Louis has plans.

Harry knows that Louis has plans, because Louis isn’t actually all that great at hiding things, but he doesn’t really have any idea what those plans are, so he’s not exactly surprised to walk into his room and find Louis lounging completely naked on the bed, but either way it’s nice.

“This my present?” Harry asks, shutting the door behind him quickly. There’s no one out in the hall but who knows how quickly that could change.

“Not exactly,” Louis says, tossing a package that Harry only barely catches against his chest, wrapped in bright paper and so much tape that Harry’s probably going to have to cut it open. “Happy birthday.”

It takes a minute, but Harry manages to wrestle it open, tearing tape off the edges until he’s revealed a bottle of lube, the same brand that they always use. He stares at it for a minute, turning it over in his hand, but there’s nothing to indicate that this is another prank - the seal is still on and everything.

He doesn’t get it. “Thank you?” he ventures, because what do you say in the face of lube and a naked boy on your bed? Especially when that naked boy is your naked boy?

Harry has manners, okay, and he knows how to use them.

Louis rolls his eyes. “You notice what’s missing from there?” he asks, nodding towards the present, still clenched in Harry’s hand. Harry looks back down at the bottle and yup, it’s still just a bottle of lube. A bottle of lube and naked boy on his bed, and Harry can put two and two together and come up with sex, same as he always does, and there’s nothing new about that, about sex with his -

“Holy shit,” Harry says, blinking down at the lube. “You - are you sure?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Louis says, drawing his knee up and exposing himself to the heat of Harry’s gaze, fastened in between his legs to where he’s putting himself on display. “I’m sure.”

“We talked about it and then you completely clammed up about it,” Harry corrects, drifting closer to the bed. “Anytime I tried to bring it up you just changed the subject.”

Louis squeezes his thighs together, hiding his hole from Harry’s gaze, but that’s okay, because Louis’ cock is right there, lying curved and pretty against his belly, already hard and flushed.

Harry’s going to fuck the come right out of him.

“Had to change the subject or else it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Louis says, curling his fingers around his cock and giving himself a gentle stroke, slow and sensual, all the way down his shaft and then back up again. “You are the birthday boy, after all.”

Everything feels thick as Harry climbs onto the bed and settles himself down on top of Louis, taking the time to arrange them comfortably because they’re definitely going to need it. “I am the birthday boy,” he agrees a little dreamily, sliding his fingers over Louis’ so he can get a feel of his cock, of how hard he is. “Gonna knock you up.”

“Gonna give me a baby?” Louis asks, letting his thighs part farther, and that’s an invitation that Harry just can’t refuse. He wrestles with his brand new bottle of lube and manages to get it open, somehow, slicking up his fingers quickly because he wants that, wants to knock Louis up, get him all full with Harry’s come.

“Give you as many babies are you want,” Harry says, mashing their mouths together before Louis can answer and pushing a single finger into his hole, finding it wet and already open for him.

Louis does think of everything.

“You know I would normally give you a couple of fingers anyway,” Harry huffs into Louis’ mouth, letting the sentence trail off. It’s more of a question, anyway.

Louis squirms, tight heat of him clinging to Harry’s finger. “Don’t need ‘em,” he says, straining up to get at Harry’s mouth properly. Their relationship is built on trust, even back when Louis was oblivious to everything except the sex.

Harry trusts him to say if he’s not ready, if he needs more prep, so he slips his finger out and lines himself up, pushing in slow and smooth. Louis’ fingers go tight against his back, digging into his muscles, and he’s so fucking hot inside, tight, perfect around Harry’s cock, skin to skin.

The only sound in the room is their breathing, at least until Harry’s all the way in. “Don’t know what you’re going to do next year,” he says, doing his best to ignore exactly how amazing it feels. If he thinks about it he’ll probably come. “Never be able to top this.”

“In more ways than one,” Louis says, eyes half closed. He’s barely paying attention, and Harry would be offended if it was for any other reason than Louis paying more attention to how it feels.

“Does it feel different?” Harry asks, brushing a piece of Louis’ hair off of his forehead. It feels different for him - feels fucking amazing for him.

Louis chews on the inside of his cheek, the movement slow and subtle. “A little. Almost like - almost like you’re more there. That doesn’t make sense.”

Harry gets it. “In a good way?” he asks, because he has to know. Has to know. Would do it with a condom every single time if Louis wanted it like that but if he doesn’t -

“Yeah,” Louis says, licking his bottom lip and opening his eyes. “Don’t you wanna know how it’s gonna feel when you come inside me, get me all wet?”

Jesus. “Gonna find out really soon,” Harry promises, pulling out halfway and easing back in gently, testing the waters. The drag is smooth and hot, maybe smoother than it is with a condom. Harry’s a bit biased, though, so he’d probably think it was smoother even if it actually wasn’t because it’s so fucking good.

Harry hauls Louis’ legs up a bit higher and starts giving it to him faster, thrusting deep and even, aiming for Louis’ prostate. “Oh,” Louis breathes, like he’s surprised, reaching down to palm at his cock, leaking steadily.

One of the hottest things about sex with Louis is how he stays hard the entire time, even when Harry’s first pushing in. “Wanna come like that this time, baby?” Harry asks, gripping Louis’ silky smooth thighs and opening him up for it, fucking him faster and harder so Louis’ noises are constant and whimpery. “Gonna get yourself off, make yourself come for me?”

“No,” Louis says, letting go of his cock and tangling his fingers in Harry’s necklace instead. “Make me come with your cock. Know you wanna do it.”

Yeah. Harry does wanna do that. “Fill you up,” he says, unable to stop himself. “Gonna come because you know when I do it’s just for you, just because you’re gorgeous and mine and you’re letting me fuck you bare.”

“Because I love you,” Louis says, little pink mouth inviting Harry to put his tongue in it, mimic the motion of his cock in Louis’ bum. “And you’re gonna knock me up because you love me. Gonna give me your come whenever I want it.”

“Give you as many babies as you want,” Harry promises desperately, thrusting faster, already feeling the tingling of his orgasm building in his spine. Louis wants to come just from this, though, and Harry will be damned if he doesn’t give it to him, even though it’s his birthday and this is his present.

And god, what a present it is.

“Because you love me,” Louis insists, clenching his muscles around Harry’s cock in a way that’s going to make him come sooner rather than later.

It’s definitely time to break out the big guns.

“I do love you, baby,” Harry answers, making sure that his thrusts are deep and even, exactly the way Louis likes, hitting all of the right spots. “Love it when you come on my cock like this, just full of me, just from being fucked. When you get sleepy after you’ve come but you still like that I’m fucking you and you let me move you however I want, let me do whatever I want to you. Love it. Love you.”

Louis lets out this broken little whimper and comes, muscles tight around Harry’s cock and fingers still tangled in his necklace, cock pulsing out come between them, slippery and wet, just the way Harry likes him. Just the way Harry’s going to make him.

Oh god, Harry’s going to make him wet in a way he’s never been wet before, and that’s the thought that sends him over the edge, shoving his hips up and staying there, mashing their mouths back together even though neither of them are capable of kissing properly. Louis’ murmuring something, free hand coming up to stroke through Harry’s hair. Harry barely feels it, his own eyes closed as he comes, string after string of come shooting off into Louis’ arse, connecting them in a way they’ve never been connected before.

It takes a minute to catch his breath after that, and then another minute to be able to stop shivering into Louis’ neck, both of them fucked out and languid. There’s been plenty of times Harry hasn’t had the energy to pull out after they’ve finished - athletic sex is kind of their specialty - and Louis doesn’t mind either way, not that he’s ever actually said that. If he did mind Harry would definitely know.

The only way to find out what it looks like is to pull out, though, so he does, slow and careful, just in case Louis is sore and doesn’t even realize, and sits back on his knees. Louis’ come is splattered all over his belly, drying onto his skin, and if Harry doesn’t clean him up there’ll definitely be complaints in the morning.

It can wait.

“How does it feel?” Harry asks, dragging his thumb across the inside of Louis’ thigh, watching him repress a shiver and let his legs fall open just a bit more, easy for Harry’s touch.

Louis inhales slowly and blinks up at the ceiling consideringly. “Feels like you just put your cock in my arse and then came in me.”

“But what does that feel like?” Harry asks, pressing Louis’ left knee up until his foot is flat against the mattress. The light is on but the angle is bad, so he can’t really see anything, but the hint of it is thrilling.

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” Louis asks, grumbling some more. He’s only pretending to be cranky so Harry will pay attention to him. Spoil him a little.

Harry loves spoiling him, so it’s not like it’s a hardship. “We can do that if you want,” he says easily, sitting down on the bed properly and crossing his legs before hauling Louis mostly into his lap, bum in the perfect groping position.

Easier access.

“What kinda cockslut would I be if I was on the top,” Louis says, quirking a tiny little smile.

“The kind that likes to top sometimes,” Harry says, unable to resist kissing that smile, even though it distracts him from his mission.

Louis’ mouth is soft and sweet, the way he tends to only get after Harry’s fucked him just right, less demanding and bitey than usual. Harry loves the demandingness and bitey-ness of Louis’ mouth, but there’s something to be said for fucking him into gentleness.

“But then how would you give me babies?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Gotta fill my belly somehow.”

It’s unexpectedly dirty, for some reason. Harry bites at Louis’ lip and ignores the way his cock throbs dully. It doesn’t actually want to go again - not yet, anyway. “Give you all the babies you want,” Harry tells him, sneaking a hand underneath Louis’ bum and slipping two fingers back into him.

They go in easily, smooth and warm, and it doesn’t really feel that much different - a little bit wetter - but it’s so fucking hot regardless, knowing that his come is inside of Louis, that Harry got him wet like that.

“Even if I wanted quintuplets?” Louis asks sleepily, squirming on Harry’s fingers like he’s trying to get them to brush against his prostate. Harry obliges, watching the way Louis’ cock jerks but doesn’t get hard. It’s pretty in a way that’s hard to explain, stemming from the knowledge that Louis just likes something up his bum so much that he wants it even when it’s not going to make him come.

“How many are quintuplets?” Harry wonders, still fingering him gently, feeling the first trickle of come sliding out down past his palm, onto his wrist.

“Five?” Louis guesses. “I think it’s five.”

Okay, five babies all at once might be a little much. “Maybe just twins to start with.”

Louis is still smiling. This is the best birthday present ever. “Bet you’re gonna regret saying that if we ever actually do have twins,” he says.

If it were possible for Louis to actually get knocked up any twins they have would definitely have Louis’ mischievous streak, and that would be stressful. Really fucking cute, but stressful. “I love you,” Harry says, pulling his fingers out a little reluctantly. “Don’t do anything to me while I’m asleep tonight, alright? It’s my birthday.”

“I would never,” Louis says, reaching out to tangle his fingers in the necklace again, so Harry takes it off and puts it on him, lying down and pulling Louis into his arms. Louis’ hand drifts up to fiddle with the metal some more, and that’s how they fall asleep, still sweaty and gross and without cleaning up.

Harry wakes up to a dick doodled onto his arm in permanent black marker. It looks like it’s supposed to be a depiction of Harry’s cock, and it’s to scale. Harry’s reluctantly impressed.

Plus there’s the fact that his face is dick free. Now that is a birthday present.

Harry’s frat brothers have put up with a lot for him, and most of it has to do with Louis being Louis, but he’s never been more grateful for them than he is at this moment.

He’d left the pink rose lying in the middle of Louis’ bed - after he’d made it so it wouldn’t get lost in the mess - but Louis hasn’t said anything about it. He keeps giving Harry these weird looks out of the corner of his eye when he thinks Harry isn’t looking, but he hasn’t said anything.

Maybe Harry’s go-to apology gesture shouldn’t be leaving roses in Louis’ bed. He probably thinks that Harry is apologizing for something that he hasn’t even admitted to yet.

Louis announces his presence the same way that he always does - he flings the door open hard enough that it bounces off the wall, making lots of noise as he kicks his shoes off and leaves them for Harry to deal with later.

Harry wipes his palms on his slacks and waits, trying not to fidget too noticeably. It only takes a few seconds for Louis to walk into the room, but it feels like an eternity.

It probably says something about Harry’s character that he would have waited a literal eternity for this moment.

Louis takes one look around the room and stops in the doorway. “So when you said to dress up you weren’t kidding.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry says, because it doesn’t. Louis could have shown up in sweatpants and that ragged t-shirt that he refuses to throw away and Harry would still be doing this.

Louis rocks on his heels and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “So what are we doing?”

“I have something for you,” Harry says. His feet are unfrozen, finally, so he crosses the room and tugs Louis forward a few steps, resisting the urge to kiss him a little.

“Is it your cock?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’ve had that about a thousand times and I’m getting kind of bored with it.”

Well. That’s not what he was saying last night.

A few snickers go through the room before it falls silent again. “Can you concentrate for a minute, please?”

“As long as you promise that it’s only gonna be for a minute,” Louis agrees.

Harry’s palms are sweating. He wipes them absently on his trousers, unable to take his eyes away from Louis. Unwilling to. “You came into my life loudly,” he starts. “Right from the beginning you were what I wanted, and you still are now. If anything I want you even more, and I can’t see that ever changing. So it would make my year if you would wear my pin.”

There’s the beginnings of a flush sitting high on Louis’ cheekbones. He licks his lips and says, “Thought that was gonna be more romantic.”

Harry raises an eyebrow and sweeps an arm out, gesturing towards the room, dimly lit, filled with candles and flowers and Harry’s brothers all dressed up. “This isn’t romantic enough for you?”

Louis shrugs, shoulders moving underneath the thin, soft fabric of his shirt. There’s really only one way this night can end and Harry would really like to get there. Having Louis underneath him while Harry fucks him just right, wearing Harry’s fraternity pin on a chain that Harry so thoughtfully picked out - he might be half-hard right now.

“Just thought that you’d have some pretty words for me, s’all,” Louis says nonchalantly.

Pretty words? Harry has lots of pretty words for him, but most of them Louis wouldn’t appreciate all of Harry’s brothers hearing. Still, though, what Louis wants Louis gets. “You mean like I love the way your face looks in the morning when you’re barely awake and grumpy? Or that being with you makes me so unbelievably happy? Or that I love you so much I’m willing to put up with you drawing dicks all over me when I’m asleep?”

“Most romantic boy in the world,” Louis simpers, swaying forward, and Harry doesn’t even care that he’s making fun of him while he’s trying to give him his pin because he sees the sheen of wetness in Louis’ eyes, the way his bottom lip gets a little trembly. He’s not going to cry, because he would never let himself cry in front of people that he doesn’t trust, but he’s more affected than he’s letting on and Harry sees it.

“I love you,” Harry says, necklace dangling from two fingers are he puts his hands on Louis’ face. “And one day I’m going to propose to you with a ring and everything but for now I want you to have my pin.”

“Yeah,” Louis says softly, tipping his head forward while Harry slips it on him, and then back up so they can kiss, soft and slow with twenty of Harry’s fraternity brothers watching.

It’s not as awkward as it sounds.

Louis’ eyes are clear when the kiss breaks. “So you guys are going to make yourselves scarce tonight, right? Because tonight is definitely not going to be a quiet night.”

The guys can’t clear out fast enough. Louis turns his attention back on Harry, gaze already a little heated. “Because I have a tiny bit of respect for your mates I’m not gonna let you fuck me on the couch.”

“One day we’re gonna have a house and our own couch and I’ll fuck you on that whenever you want,” Harry promises, already a little high on the promise of sex and Louis in his arms.

Louis goes limp in his arms, boneless, and Harry only catches him because he does it all the time and Harry’s reflexes are awesome. “You gonna carry me upstairs, then? My big man gonna take care of me?” Louis asks softly, pushing his thigh against Harry’s cock.

“You want me to carry you upstairs?” Harry asks, but he’s already sliding an arm behind Louis’ knees and getting them situated before he picks him up, solid weight in Harry’s arm that he doesn’t plan on letting go of.

At least not for another hour. Probably the rest of the night.

“I deserve to be treated like a king,” Louis announces, making absolutely no effort to tuck his limbs in and assist Harry with the whole not bashing him against the wall thing. Harry carries him carefully, grateful that he thought ahead enough to leave his door open.

He drops Louis onto the bed just as carefully. “You’re my king.”

“What if I want to be your queen?” Louis demands before Harry can even think about joining him.

“My king, my queen, my consort, everything, doesn’t matter,” Harry says. “You’re all of it. Can we move on now?”

Louis stretches, arching up off the bed because he lives to make Harry hard and then not let him do anything about it. “Yes,” he decides, palming at his own belly, underneath his shirt. “I’m all stubbly, though. Thought we were just gonna watch a film and crash tonight.”

Harry helps him bare his flesh, pushing his shirt up underneath his armpits. “Doesn’t matter. Love you when you’re bare, love you when you’re stubbly. Love you if you decided not to shave at all anymore.”

To prove it, he puts his face against Louis’ belly and rubs his cheek over his skin. The hair is barely even there, not more than a soft little scratch at Harry’s skin. He opens his mouth and drags his tongue across his abs, letting his teeth press down just a little. Louis tastes familiar and sweet, always so responsive, and Harry can’t resist sucking a mark just underneath his belly button.

“Mm, tasty,” he murmurs, nosing at Louis’ belly some more, until Louis pulls him up, laughing, and kisses him.

“Thank you for getting all dressed up in a suit and giving me your varsity jacket,” Louis says sweetly, groping at Harry’s cock through his trousers.

“Thanks for accepting, baby,” Harry says, pulling Louis’ shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. “Gonna make me really happy and wear it tomorrow?”

Louis gets to work undoing the buttons on Harry’s shirt, lower lip caught between his teeth as he concentrates. “Not letting you out of the bed tomorrow,” he answers, already halfway done. “Maybe the day after.”

Marathon sex, nice. Harry should bust out the big romantic gestures more often.

“Can’t wait to see what it looks like on you,” he says, working on the fly of Louis’ jeans next, pulling them down over his bum.

“You want me to wear your jersey with it?” Louis asks, lifting his hips so Harry can peel his jeans all the way off. “Really sell the fact that I’m yours.”

Harry’s cock is more than happy with that idea. “Everyone knows,” he says, shifting so he can toss the jeans to the side and shrug out of his own shirt, letting it crumple onto the floor. Louis will mock him in the morning when it ends up wrinkled beyond repair and Harry has to call his mum for advice, but that doesn’t matter when Louis is mostly naked underneath him. “No one is crazy enough to think otherwise.”

Louis palms Harry’s cock over two layers of fabric, gripping him tight. “Yeah, but you want me to do it anyway,” he says, letting go in favour of getting the trousers undone, pooling around his knees. Harry moves so they can both finish stripping, clothes flying into places that are going to be impossible to find.

“Yeah, baby,” Harry agrees, coming back down to kiss Louis’ stupidly pretty mouth. He fumbles for the lube at the same time, making a mess of the sheets when he finally manages to get it open. He doesn’t stop kissing Louis, hoping to distract him from it, and it’s mostly working. He wiggles a little but doesn’t seem to really notice, so Harry chases his tongue with his own and puts a finger into him.

Louis punches him. Harry pulls back, frowning, and is about to complain when Louis says, “The fuck are you doing?”

Now Harry’s really confused. “Fingering you?” he asks, moving his finger pointedly.

“You basically just professed your eternal love for me,” Louis says, punching him again. “Don’t you think that warrants some rimming? If you love me so much?”

Oh. One of Harry’s favourite things to do is eat Louis out - the way Louis reacts is so fucking gorgeous - but. “If I do that you’re probably not going to get fucked.”

There’s really no way that Harry can manage eating him out and fucking him, at least not today. Not after such a big romantic gesture and the way Louis reacted to it, so pretty and pleased to be Harry’s. Now he has something of Harry’s that he can wear whenever he wants, something that will remind him how much Harry loves him, how much Harry wants him, all the time.

Harry has no illusions that he won’t want to wear Harry’s necklace all the time anyway.

“S’okay,” Louis tells him, touching the corner of Harry’s mouth with soft fingers. “I want you to eat me.”

Well. How could Harry say no to such a genuinely pleading request. “Yeah,” Harry agrees, kissing Louis again before lifting up and moving back enough that Louis doesn’t kick him in the face when he goes to flip him over, even though he tries.

“Be good,” Harry orders, swatting him on the arse. Louis wiggles some more, bum round and plush and begging for Harry’s mouth.

“I’m always good,” Louis says haughtily. Harry knows exactly how to get him to stop with the nonsense, though, so he spreads him open without saying another word and takes a minute to just look at him, at the tight pink clench of his hole, at the undeniable beauty of his arse.

Prettiest boy on campus and he’s all Harry’s.

“Can’t believe you said yes, baby,” Harry murmurs to himself, still looking. “Get to have you all to myself for the rest of my life. S’amazing.” He bends down without letting Louis have a chance to answer, wasting no more time before licking him, a long, slow drag over his hole that has him swearing into the sheets.

There’s no better feeling in the world than Louis falling apart on his tongue, than the way Louis sounds when he says Harry’s name like this, wrecked and like Harry’s the only thing holding him together. “S’not fair,” Louis slurs, soft and slow. It’s a fairly safe bet to assume that his fingers are twisted in the sheets, that he’s biting at his lip.

“What’s not fair?” Harry asks, taking another long, slow lick. His cock is pressed firmly against the mattress, trapped against warm sheets, and it makes no sense not to give himself some friction when his sheets are fresh and clean and he’s got the taste of Louis on his tongue.

Grinding against the bed is never going to be as good as grinding against Louis, but it’s enough while Harry does this, gets him nice and wet and shivery. “How good your mouth feels,” Louis answers breathlessly, twisting on the bed.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, flattening his tongue and running it over him again, enjoying the way Louis makes a noise low in his throat, hips lifting like they’re seeking more.

Harry can give him more. He holds him down firmly, licks at him with serious intent, until he’s got Louis’ hole open enough that he can get his tongue past the rim, inside. Louis shudders, hips working frantically against the mattress, so fast that Harry struggles to hold him still and keep licking into him at the same time.

“Please,” Louis says, shifting again and again, rocking back and forth. “Please, Harry, please - ”

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” Harry murmurs, gentling his licks, spit trailing down his chin, and concentrates on making it deep instead of fast, Louis’ hole tight and warm surrounding his tongue. His jaw is going a little numb but he can barely even feel it, too focused on making Louis feel good, on how good he feels inside. The taste of the lube isn’t even doing much to overpower the taste of Louis underneath it, sweet like caramel, sweat and musk on Harry’s tongue.

Louis goes quiet, noises muffled so well Harry has to strain to hear them. He stops for just a second to look up, sees Louis mouthing at his own arm, teeth sharp and wet against his skin. “Lookit you,” Harry says, dragging his thumb across Louis’ wet hole, tugging lightly at his rim. “All pretty and quiet. You gonna come?”

It’s kind of a rhetorical question. He knows Louis is going to come - can see in the twist of his hips, riding the mattress the same way he rides Harry’s cock when he’s almost there - but the urge to hear him say it, to gasp and plead and ask for it, is a little overwhelming. Especially when he knows Louis will ask for it, will beg for it with Harry’s fraternity pin hanging around his neck, close to his heart.

“Gonna come,” Louis slurs, mouth pink and wet dragging across his arm. He’s leaving teeth marks in his own skin, ones that Harry will have to replace with his own later. “Harry. Wanna come.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Harry answers, letting his breath wash over Louis’ hole, over his saliva, and then gets back to eating him out in earnest, digging his tongue in deep and not letting up until Louis is breathing fast and whimpering little noises that might be Harry’s name out into the sheets, twisting restlessly just before he comes, clenching down so hard around Harry’s tongue that it goes numb for a second.

Harry stays there for a minute, still tonguing Louis’ hole gently, letting his teeth brush his skin. Louis shivers again, squirming underneath Harry’s hands before going still, practically melting into the mattress.

Louis doesn’t say anything for another few minutes, pliant underneath Harry’s hands, even though Harry’s smoothing his thumb over his hole restlessly, unable to stop himself. “Gonna hafta fend for yourself,” he says eventually, the words mumbled and half lost in the sheets. “Killed me.”

“Always thought it’d be from a good dicking, not some rimming,” Harry muses, pushing himself up onto his elbows and searching for the lube with one hand, eyes still fixed on the soft wet give of his hole. “Only made you come once, at that.”

Louis stretches a little, toes flexing. He’s pretty all over and Harry wants to smear come all over him.

Not that that’s new.

“It was so fucking good, though,” Louis says, a little delayed, a lot sleepy. He wiggles his arse half-heartedly. “If you’re gonna come on me you better hurry up, I’m about to pass out.”

Like magic, Harry finds the lube. “You mean you’d care if I came on you while you were sleeping?” He opens it and pours a generous amount out between his hands, rubbing it between them to warm it up.

“Like to be at least a little conscious for it,” Louis says, wiggling his bum some more. “Hurry up.”

“Lovely impatient boy,” Harry murmurs, slicking up the insides of Louis’ thighs, brushing his balls. Louis shivers and lets his legs part a little more, giving Harry easier access.

“Fuck,” Louis says, voice breaking a little. “Shoulda waited.”

Done with the lube, Harry closes it and tosses it back onto the table, giving his cock a couple of strokes to spread out what’s left of it. “Want to come like this too?” he asks, laying himself down carefully, getting his cock in between Louis’ thighs before he presses them together, tight and warm and perfect. He gives Louis a second to answer, needs to know if he has to hold off some more, give Louis a chance to catch up again.

“No,” Louis says, liquid heat against Harry’s chest as he connects them fully, fit together perfectly. He drags Harry’s arm underneath his chest and laces their fingers together, mouthing at his wrist idly. “Just be gentle, yeah? Sensitive.”

Gentle is hard to accomplish when Louis is biting at him like that, practically asking to be fucked up the mattress, but Harry goes for it, rocking gently and evenly between Louis’ thighs, cock sliding easily due to the lube. It doesn’t feel like fucking him does, but it’s really fucking nice either, holding his thighs closed for it, holding him down for it, Louis pliant underneath him and hot, sensitive, making breathy little noises like it’s affecting him even though he’s already come.

“S’okay, almost,” Harry says, not even paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth as he slips between Louis’ thighs, gaining momentum. “Almost there, baby, gonna make me come.”

He’s not moving the way he does when he’s fucking Louis’ arse, but it’s a close enough imitation that his orgasm is trembling in his belly. Then Louis fumbles his free hand down underneath his own hips and rubs at the head of Harry’s cock every time it gets close enough, face still buried in their joint arms, and that’s what Harry needs to come, shuddering against the nape of Louis’ neck.

Jesus. Harry really needs to bust out the big romantic gestures more often if this is the type of sex that’s going to come out of it.

“Made me all wet,” Louis says softly, fingers still tickling the head of Harry’s cock. Harry shifts but doesn’t pull away, lets him touch. God knows Harry touches after Louis’ come enough.

Harry sucks a slow, idle mark into the back of Louis’ neck, using his teeth liberally. Louis shivers underneath him, mouth open against Harry’s arm just a little, and if he keeps that up there’s no way Harry’s going to be able to let him sleep.

Louis doesn’t like to be left alone after sex, but he also doesn’t like to be left in the wet spot, so Harry takes one for the team and rolls them over, settles himself into the mess and tucks his knees up behind Louis’ and wraps an arm around his belly. Louis hums, pleased, and fumbles until he manages to get their fingers laced together, bringing his other hand up to his own throat to pet at the necklace.

“Love it,” he says, squeezing Harry’s fingers. Harry squeezes back.

“Love you,” Harry says. He can hear Louis’ smile even as they drift off to sleep, tangled together.

It’s not hard to tell when Louis is up to something - he always does a terrible job hiding it. His shifty face gives him away every time, and he usually doesn’t even bother trying to hide it. It only makes it worse if Harry tries to prevent it, though, so the only thing he can do is just wait for it, nerves building with every minute that nothing happens.

It’s two days before he walks into his room and finds a letter neatly arranged on top of his books, in the middle of his bed. In terms of messing with his stuff, it’s not actually that bad. The books had been on the desk, and it looks like they’re the only things that have migrated.

Harry opens the letter gingerly, half expecting ink to explode out of it or something like that. It’s handwritten, messy, like Louis wrote it in a hurry - more of a scrawl than anything.

It’s telling him to go to Louis’ room. Harry frowns at it for a second and then picks up his phone, calling Louis’ number on autopilot.

Louis doesn’t answer. It’s clearly a set-up. If Harry was smart he would stay where he is and not fall for it.

Sex, though. Pranks always culminate in sex, and Harry’s twenty years old and thinks with his dick.

He goes to Louis’ room.

Louis doesn’t answer, but he made Harry an illegal copy of his key, so Harry lets himself in, flipping the light on. There’s another envelope lying on the bed. Harry shuts the door, just in case one of the other kids decides now is the time to ask Louis for something, and sits on the bed to read it.

It’s a map, this time, complete with a red X marked in a spot Harry can only assume Louis is leading him to, accompanied by a blurry Polaroid of Louis’ face. Harry gets stuck for a minute, smiling down at it fondly, before he tucks it into his back pocket, texting Louis on his way out the door.

Louis doesn’t answer the text, either, not that it’s a surprise. Harry doubles back to the frat to grab the car, then sets out to the location on the map. He calls Liam from his bluetooth, then Zayn, then Niall, and finally Justin. None of them answer.

It’s only slightly worrying. Not because he thinks something’s actually wrong - they have a phone chain set up now, after the last time Louis did something stupid and hurt himself. But for all of them to not be answering their phones means that they’re all in on it, and Harry’s skin is a little itchy from what it could be.

Being ganged up on like this is really not fair. Harry intends to complain very loudly when he finds them.

The spot marked on the map is a quaint little tea shop that they’ve been to a thousand times before, not that it’s a surprise. Harry recognized the address, but he walks in anyway, jingle of the bell announcing his arrival. Tasha, the morning shift employee, looks up and offers him a half-hearted wave.

Harry walks up to the counter and rests his elbow on it. Tasha’s in some of Harry’s classes, and she’s very familiar with the way Louis is. “Something of mine been through here today?” Harry asks, quirking a smile.

Tasha laughs, pulling an envelope out from underneath the counter. “You ever talk like that when he’s around to hear you?” she asks, sliding the envelope over.

“All the time,” Harry says easily, ripping it open. “If I do it just right it flusters him like nothing else. I’ll do it next time we come in, he gets all pink and soft, it’s awesome.”

“Right, because that’s what I need in my life, the opportunity to watch you guys get even more handsy in public,” Tasha replies, rolling her eyes. “He said that you should buy him some biscuits but no tea because it’s still going to be a while before you catch up.”

“I shouldn’t buy him anything,” Harry mutters, but he’s already pulling his wallet out.

The next stop has him going to Tesco to pick up a dozen limes. Harry’s suspicious before he even walks into the store, but the thought of tracking Louis down and giving it to him until he screams keeps him going, has him waiting in line just for the limes.

He’s less than surprised when he walks out to find his car surrounded by an infinite loop of shopping carts. Louis answers his call this time with a chipper, “Lo?” like he has no idea why Harry could be phoning him.

“Is this it?” Harry asks, still staring at the carts. He knows this can’t be it. If this was it Louis would have just done it without sending him on a weird scavenger hunt.

“Is what it?” Louis asks.

“Lou,” Harry says, nudging a cart with his toe. It doesn’t move. He has no idea how to even go about getting them apart.

“Please, Harold, like that’s the only thing I have planned for you,” Louis scoffs, dropping the act.

Harry’s not ashamed to admit that his blood tingles, just a little. “It’s pretty good, though,” he admits, running a hand over the carts and pulling, seeing if they’ll budge.

They don’t.

“So there’s another envelope buried underneath the tree in the garden,” Louis says brightly.

“Back at the house?” Harry asks, switching the phone to his other ear. Louis makes a vague agreeing noise and hangs up.

Harry sighs and goes about figuring how to get the carts unstuck.

Louis has left a shovel leaning up against the tree helpfully. Harry sighs to himself, spends a second considering how much he loves Louis, and strips his jumper off over his head to begin digging.

It takes a lot less time than he was expecting, all told. He hits a box after only a couple minutes of digging, and it only takes a few seconds to uncover it completely, shaking dirt off as he picks it up. It’s fairly small, square. Innocuous.

He makes sure that there’s no one around before he opens it, and it’s a good thing he does, because at least ten photos spill out, ranging from innocent to so dirty Harry’s breath catches.

It takes him a good two minutes to stop staring at the one on the top, a shot of Louis’ bare arse, complete with three of his own fingers stuffed inside of his hole. It’s a really fucking good angle, so good that Harry wonders, mostly absently, how long it had taken Louis to get it. He’ll have to hide it underneath his mattress or something - it’s undoubtedly Louis, wrist tattoo giving him away. If anyone was to find it Harry might have to detach their head from their body.

There’s a note there as well, written just as hastily as all the others. It reads been to your room lately? as if Louis thinks he’s in some kind of horror film.

Harry rolls his eyes, but he takes the stairs two at a time, just in case. He’s not too worried about what he’ll find - the severity of the pranks have tapered off since Louis realized that they’re an item. They haven’t disappeared completely, of course, but now it’s mainly dick drawings plastered all over his stuff and his things being rearranged when he’s not looking. The shopping carts around his car had been the worst thing Louis has done in over a month.

There’s a reason that expect the unexpected is such a popular saying.

Harry opens the door to his room, expecting to find his stuff messed with, maybe even superglued to the ceiling or something. Instead, he finds nothing.

Literally nothing. All of his stuff is gone. His clothes, his books, the bed, the drawers, everything. The room is completely empty.

What the hell.

He stands there gaping as it for so long that a group of his brothers pass him on the way downstairs, take one look inside, whistle admiringly, and continue on their way. Harry answers his phone with numb fingers when it rings a couple minutes later, still looking at the pristine emptiness of the room.

Well. Mostly pristine. There are a few suspect stains on the carpet that had been there when Harry had moved in. He is not accepting responsibility for them in any way whatsoever.

“You there, sweetheart?” Louis asks eventually, mockingly. Harry keeps staring.

“Baby,” he says stupidly, reflexively, because his go-to response when Louis is mocking him by using the names that Harry calls him is to do it some more, “You - where did you put all my stuff?”

Louis hums, soft and sweet. “I didn’t touch your stuff.”

Harry knows for a fact that isn’t true, if only because Louis claims that it’s bad luck for other people to touch Harry’s favourite jersey. Harry’s pretty sure that it’s only ‘bad luck’ because it’s also Louis’ favourite jersey, the one he likes to wear with nothing else just so he can make Harry’s cock ache.

He also doesn’t tell him that countless people have touched that jersey, from his teammates and his coach to the people who clap him on the back after every game that he never sees anywhere else. There’s just some things that Louis never has to know.

“So what happened to it, then?” Harry asks.

“Guess you’re gonna have to come and find out!” Louis says, and hangs up.

Harry’s not even surprised.

It takes him a couple of minutes to find the envelope - hopefully the last envelope - lying on the ground in a corner of the room, almost blending in with the carpet. He’s really expecting it to tell him to go back to Louis’ dorm, but instead there’s a GPS location listed and nothing else.

Harry frowns at it. He’s going to follow it, obviously, but he still thinks that it deserves to be frowned at.

He makes sure that he stops by the shop and picks up some lube, just in case Louis lost it again. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The drive ends up being nearly an hour. Harry finds the place with no problem, pulling into a campground that’s mostly empty because only Louis would decide to go camping in April in England.

It’s not raining, which turns out to be a better thing than Harry thought it would be when he pulls into the campsite, because it turns out that all of his stuff has been relocated to this exact spot.

In the exact same position it is when it’s in his room.

Harry pulls the keys out of the ignition and then sits there, staring at the spread of furniture, an unwilling smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He rests his hands on the steering wheel and keeps looking, even as Louis climbs in on the passenger side, pulling the door closed much harder than necessary.

“You know, I didn’t even realize that it was April first until right now,” Harry says. The boys have a barbeque going, Niall manning the grill, despite the fact that it’s barely even noon.

Louis had sent the text before six.

“You’re kind of slow, then,” Louis remarks, laying one of his hands over Harry’s and leaning against his shoulder as they admire his work together. “Fuck, I’m good.”

“You’re a menace,” Harry corrects absently, lifting up his hand a little so Louis has an easier time tugging off the ring he’s wearing on his pinky.

“This is amazing,” Louis says, gesturing in front of them. “This might be my best work yet. Plus there’s the fact that I conned Liam and Justin into doing all of the heavy lifting, which makes it even sweeter.”

It is pretty amazing. There’s even tarps hanging over the furniture in case it starts to rain.

Harry would bet his entire tuition on Louis still having lost the lube.

“How many pictures did you take of my face as I pulled up?” Harry asks eventually, moving to unbuckle his seatbelt.

Louis scoffs. “Pictures? That’s weak, Haz. I had a video camera running from three different angles. I’m going to cherish those videos forever.”

Harry doesn’t doubt it. He sighs to himself and opens the door, swinging himself out before coming around to help Louis out, catching him around the waist despite the fact that he’s perfectly capable of getting out himself.

“My big strong man,” Louis says, hands on Harry’s shoulders as he swings him down, letting his feet touch the ground gently. “Did you bring me the biscuits?”

Did he bring the biscuits. As if Harry could have not shown up with the biscuits. Sometimes he wonders how the inside of Louis’ brain works. “I brought you the biscuits,” Harry says, walking him backwards towards the middle of the site, where the boys are hanging out sprawled across camping chairs. There’s only two empty ones, one of which is Niall’s, judging from the way his hat is sitting on it like it’s saving his place, so Harry claims the empty one, letting Louis plop down onto his lap in a way that has Harry holding his breath, half expecting the chair to collapse.

Luckily, it doesn’t.

“This is not my fault,” Liam says immediately, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. “I tried to tell him no.”

Louis settles his head against Harry’s shoulder, quiet for the moment. “You probably told him no all of once and then called around trying to find the proper equipment,” Harry grumbles, moving Louis’ thigh so it’s not crushing his dick so much.

“He only had to make one call,” Justin says, lighting a cigarette and passing it to Zayn. “I figured it was better to just let him use mine rather than try to get it somewhere else. Knowing his luck he’d probably end up getting abducted by a serial killer.”

This is what Harry is saying. Justin gets him on a spiritual level.

Justin is probably actually only saying it to make fun of Harry but still. The sentiment stands.

“I would not,” Louis squawks indignantly, struggling in Harry’s arms just enough to make it seem like he actually wants to get up. Harry hugs him close and doesn’t let him.

“You would,” he says. “I’m scared that you’re gonna go out and get yourself kidnapped every time you leave my sight. Sometimes I think I should lock you up and throw away the key.”

“This might actually win for the weirdest flirting I’ve ever seen from you two,” Zayn mutters, taking a drag on his cigarette. “And I was there that time you thought dumping half-formed jello all over his lap was a good idea, Lou.”

“Got his attention, though, didn’t it?” Louis demands, already triumphant. Harry squeezes him harder.

“Oh, you’ve always had my attention, baby,” he coos, listening to Louis wheeze while he whacks Harry’s arms, trying to get him to let go, and then, when that doesn’t work, resorts to elbowing him in the face.

Fucking limber bastard.

It takes less than thirty seconds of them struggling for the chair to leak out an ominous creaking noise and then break under their weight.

Louis starts yelling before they even hit the ground, inarticulate shrieks that Harry doesn’t even bother trying to understand, hitting at whatever flesh he can reach, so fucking loud that he’s probably attracting the attention of anyone within a mile of them. Obviously Harry can’t let that stand - he’s a good boy, after all, polite and considerate of his neighbours - so they roll around on the grass for a minute before he manages to get both of Louis’ wrists in one hand.

If he takes a little longer than really necessary to do it because he likes the way Louis feels squirming underneath him no one has to know.

Who is he kidding. Everyone knows. That much is obvious from the barrage of items being thrown at his back.

Oh well. They’re already on the ground in the perfect position, so there’s really no reason not to snog Louis for a couple of minutes.

“Oi, horny bastards, food’s ready!” Niall hollers. Something soft hits Harry on the back of the head - probably a bun. Louis’ stomach grumbles loud even Harry hears it, and the smell of the food wafting over is really fucking good.

They kiss for another two minutes anyway.

It turns out that there are actually tents that need to be set up. Harry and Niall give one their best go while Liam gets his up single-handedly and Louis sits on the ground cackling at all of them. Zayn and Justin are suspiciously absent while the tent setting up is going on. Harry’s not surprised. Zayn is always mysteriously absent when there’s manual labour to be done and Justin claims that he’s allergic to the material tents are made of.

Harry’s pretty sure that they’re just off somewhere smoking a joint.

They’re all a little bit drunk by that point, and that’s Harry’s excuse. It’s probably also Louis’ excuse for crawling over to where Liam’s collapsed onto the ground the second he’s got the tent up, practically getting into his lap.

“Hey!” Harry shouts, abandoning his corner of the tent. It immediately collapses on Niall but he barely even notices. “That’s mine! Liam, that’s mine.” He stumbles his way over to where Liam and Louis are curled up together, flopping down on top of them heavily. “Liam, this is mine. You can’t have it.”

Okay. Maybe Harry is a little bit more drunk than he’d thought. Still, though. This is his.

“I don’t belong to no man!” Louis shouts, flinging his arms wide and hitting Liam right in the face. “I’m me own person! And I’m not little!”

That is just blatantly untrue. Everything about that statement is blatantly untrue. He’s Harry’s and he’s the littlest. Harry tells him all the time.

“But, like, you’re mine too,” Harry says, tracing over the curve of Louis’ jaw with two fingers, oblivious to the way his elbow is practically in Liam’s face. “And you’re little. Sometimes I carry you just because you’re little.”

“I’ll show you little,” Louis grumbles, squirming out from underneath various limbs and eeling himself on top of Harry. He doesn’t do anything, though, so Harry grabs a couple handfuls of his arse and squeezes gently, just for the soft little sound he makes.

“Seriously?” Liam yelps. “I’m right here!”

Oh. For a minute there Harry had forgotten that they’re in the middle of a campsite with their friends surrounding them.

“Leeeyum,” Louis says happily, sliding over and smooshing Liam’s cheeks with both hands. “Liam, thank you for helping me move all of Harry’s stuff. I’m gonna tell Soph what a good job you did.”

“Yeah, let’s drunk dial my girlfriend so you can tell her all about how we moved all of your boyfriend’s stuff to the middle of nowhere,” Liam mutters dryly, and even Harry can tell that he’s joking, despite the alcohol sloshing around in his system.

Louis is up and bolting for Liam’s phone before anyone can stop him. Not that Harry would have tried.

The next few hours pass in a haze of okay alcohol, good weed and better company. Harry gets demoted to sitting on the ground because he broke the chair - even though that was really Louis’ fault - which means that he gets to act as Louis’ chair, chest to his back as Louis tells a story, gesturing wildly. The fire burns bright and hot in front of them, casting orange light over Louis’ face, and Harry can’t stop himself from watching him as he talks, the way his mouth moves, how happy he is.

Exams are about to start, which means that all six of them are in for a world of frantic cramming and pain, but for the moment everything is good. Harry has his boy in his lap and his closest friends talking shit around them, and they’ve got alcohol and food, and in the morning Harry will have to move all of his stuff back onto the truck, drive an hour to get back to campus, and then move all of his stuff off of the truck and back into his room.

It’s not a bad deal.

It’s an even better deal with the fire starts dwindling and the boys head off to their respective tents, leaving the two of them alone with a fire that’s mostly ash, gently smoking. It’s getting colder by the second, and if they sit here for much longer Louis will inevitably start complaining about it. Harry stands up slowly, clutching Louis in his arms bridal style, and if Louis was less tipsy he would be giving Harry shit for carrying him like that in front of the boys.

He’s not, though, so he just chatters on about something that Harry doesn’t have the wherewithal to listen to as he picks his way through the grass and lays Louis down onto the bed. Not only did they end up having to sit on the ground but they’re the ones who ended up without a tent. Typical.

It’s Harry’s bed, though, and there’s a whole bunch of blankets strewn over it like Louis planned for this.

“My favourite little monster,” Harry says, looking at the splay of Louis’ limbs, the way his knees are spread, completely unabashed. He looks soft and biteable, trackies not doing anything to cover the swell of his cock, thickening up under Harry’s gaze. “You have to be quiet, alright?”

“I’m excellent at being quiet,” Louis says, affronted. He’s really not, so Harry kisses him quiet, managing to get them both underneath a few of the blankets, warmth and protection from prying eyes all in one.

“You have to be really quiet, though,” Harry tells him, cupping Louis’ face with both hands. “Otherwise the boys will hear.”

“Nasty boys,” Louis agrees, giggling a little. The sound is so infectious that Harry can’t stop himself from laughing back, into Louis’ mouth. They’re drunker than Harry had originally thought.

Probably that means actual sex is out of the way, but there’s plenty of other things they can do. Actually, actual sex is definitely out of the way - Harry has no idea where he put the lube he bought earlier. Plus it’s cold and if they move around too much they’ll knock the blankets off and the last thing Harry wants is frostbite on either of their cocks.

Is it even cold enough to catch frostbite? Probably not. The issue still stands, though.

“Stay still,” Harry says, unable to stop himself from laughing into Louis’ mouth some more as Louis wiggles underneath him as Harry tries to fish his cock out.

“It’s happy to see you,” Louis whispers, mostly stilling. “My cock.”

It is happy to see him, filling Harry’s hand. “Mine’s happy to see you too,” Harry whispers back, using his other hand to get his own cock out. Louis brings one of his own hands down to touch at them both intermittently, and there’s so many hands involved.

“Yours is always happy to see me,” Louis says, biting at the corner of Harry’s mouth. “Because I’m so pretty. You always say.”

Harry always says because it’s true. He manages to get a grip on both of their cocks so he can jerk them off together, barely even noticing the drag from the lack of lube. “Pretty boy,” Harry says, letting Louis finish biting him before turning it into another kiss, coaxing his mouth open easily. “My pretty boy.”

“Like being yours,” Louis admits shamelessly. Harry’s heart burns with love. He strokes them a little faster, stifling a noise when Louis rubs his fingers over the head of his cock.

“Love that you’re mine,” Harry answers, already feeling the beginning of an orgasm stirring in his belly. He’d feel bad if he wasn’t sure that Louis is already feeling the same, leg moving restlessly against Harry’s. “Love that I’m yours.”

They come together, making a mess of their skin. Harry huffs a laugh into Louis’ mouth, using the edge of one of the blankets to clean them up before Louis can complain about it.

“Prettiest boy in the entire world,” Harry says, kissing Louis again and tracing the curve of his jaw.

“Love you,” Louis says, and Harry’s about to tell him how much he loves him back when a loud shout interrupts them.

“Enough!” Justin yells. “Jesus, I could handle the sex, but the gross couple-y love stuff is too much for me. If either of you so much as breathes another word I’m going to suffocate the both of you.”

Liam answers him. “I told you that it’s the couple-y stuff that does it. It’s sickening. Absolutely disgusting.”

“Liam,” Louis calls pleasantly, stroking his hand up and down Harry’s back, underneath his shirt. “I’m in a good mood so I’m going to forgive that, but if you say another word what I do to you will make you cry for a week. You got that?”

Liam’s silent for a minute. “Fine, whatever. Still gross, though.”

Louis pats Harry’s back. “You up for replacing all of his pants with thongs when we get back to campus?” he asks.

Harry kisses him again. Has to.

“Well it’s not like you have a problem spending my money any other time,” Harry shouts, flinging his arms out.

Louis goes still so fast Harry nearly gets whiplash. “Excuse me?” he says quietly, dangerously. If Harry was smart he’d keep his mouth closed.

Harry is smart, actually, so he means to keep his mouth closed, but instead, “You reach for my wallet every time something else needs to be paid for, I don’t see what’s so different about this,” comes out.

“I reach for your wallet for things like dinner or snacks or movie tickets, not for things like - ” Louis cuts himself off with a frustrated breath. “No, you know what? I’m not arguing about this with you. This conversation is done.”

Okay. Harry’s gone and fucked up, but this conversation isn’t nearly over. “I just - I don’t understand why this is different. You have no problem expecting me to pay for everything else.”

It’s still not exactly what he means to say, and he regrets it immediately, regrets the look it puts on Louis’ face, at least before he covers it, rubbing over his skin with both hands. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself. He stops to swallow, and they may be fighting right now but that doesn’t mean that Harry ever wants to see that look on his face, so he crosses over and gathers as much of Louis as possible into his arms.

“You’re gonna make me cry,” Louis says. He’s not exactly resisting Harry’s hug but he’s definitely not returning it either. “I love you, and we’re gonna get through this, but I can’t talk to you about this right now.”

Harry swallows hard. “Okay,” he says, squeezing Louis one more time before letting him go. “Do you want me to go?”

“Yes,” Louis says, then shakes his head. “No. I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it any more tonight but I don’t want to fall asleep without you, either.”

That’s exactly why Harry thinks they should move in together. He bites it back, stroking a hand down Louis’ back slowly. “So let’s just watch a film and have a snack. You’re hungry, right? You want nachos?”

“No, just,” Louis sighs and starts tugging him forwards, towards the bed. “Cuddle me, alright?”

Harry can do cuddles.

Harry’s up before Louis in the morning. He makes pancakes and bacon, and they eat in relative normalcy before returning to Harry’s room, and then they sit on opposite ends of the bed, feet tangled together.

“This is a huge thing,” Louis starts, toeing at his socks, trying to get them off. Harry pulls his feet into his lap and helps him, smoothing his fingers over Louis’ ankles. “Moving in together, Harry, fuck. That’s huge.”

It is huge, which is why Harry’s bringing it up now. “I know that,” he says, resting his hands on top of Louis’ feet. “But it’s inevitable, right? And I want it sooner rather than later, so.”

“I know you do,” Louis says, picking at a loose thread on the duvet. Harry waits for him to say something else, but he doesn’t, and that alone has Harry’s heart dropping into his stomach.

“You don’t?” he asks, trying very hard not to overreact. If Louis doesn’t want to live together that’s fine. Totally fine.

Harry doesn’t even believe himself.

“What?” Louis asks, looking up. “No, of course I do. I just - I’m really fucking broke. I’m really fucking broke and you’re not and I’m going to be really fucking broke until I finish my degree and get a job, and I don’t want that to affect our relationship.”

Harry bites the inside of his cheek and very carefully considers his next words. “I’m going to accept the job.”

Louis lets out a sigh that says he already knew this but crawls into Harry’s lap anyway, hugging him tight. “That doesn’t change anything,” he tells Harry’s collarbone, resting his head against Harry’s shoulder. “I still have no money and you’re gonna have even more.”

Harry hugs him back, unwilling to let him go. “So explain to me why letting me pay for dinner and dates and stuff is different than letting me pay for rent on a place that you’re going to be at most of the time anyway,” he says. “Because I want to spend my money on you and if it helps us be together more then I want to spend all of my money on you.”

There’s a well-formed picture in Harry’s head of what living together would be like - of waking up to Louis messing with all of his stuff, of tripping over Louis’ shoes when he walks in the door, of getting to fuck him in a bed that they bought specifically for the two of them, of picking out sheets and curtains together, of trying to teach Louis how to do more than boil water for pasta. Of coming home every night with the knowledge that they’re going to eat dinner together and watch shitty telly before going to bed and waking up together. Of making love in that bed as quietly or loudly as they want to.

“Thousands of dollars,” Louis says. “That’s the difference.”

Harry bites the bullet and just says it. “But when we’re married it’s not going to matter how much money you have. All our accounts are going to be joint anyway.”

Louis pulls back, leveling him with a slightly incredulous look. “Kind of jumping the gun a little, here,” he says, like he’s pointing out the obvious.

He’s not pointing out the obvious. Harry’s about to point out the obvious. “It’s been four years,” he says.

“Three,” Louis interrupts.

The fight about when they should start counting from is never going to be quelled. Louis is just plain wrong about it being three - it’s clearly been four. Harry’s dick thinks it’s been four since it’s actively been interested in anyone else and Harry’s dick is always right about things like that.

“Four,” Harry says, squeezing Louis again. Louis squawks indignantly. “If you wanna talk relationship milestones, there’s been the lavaliering, the meet the family bits, the barebacking, the eternal love declarations - I could keep going, you know. The goal has always been married with a house and kids, hasn’t it?”

“The goal has always been not to feel like you’re the only one contributing something to this relationship,” Louis retorts. “Why are we having this conversation now instead of when I’m done with uni?”

“Because in five months I’m gonna graduate and take a job and need somewhere to live,” Harry says. “And I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want that place to be with you.”

Louis elbows him. It’s nowhere near as hard as he does it when he’s actually mad, which can only be a good thing. “It’s not unreasonable,” he says. “I just. Fuck. I don’t want it to be the thing that we’re always fighting about, you know? Or even worse, the thing that we don’t fight about and get passive-aggressive about instead.”

“Does that really seem like something we would do?” Harry asks. “You like yelling at me way too much to be passive-aggressive about it.”

“Harry,” Louis says.

“Look,” Harry says, finding Louis’ hands and squeezing his fingers. “You’re already spending money on rent and food, right? So I can spend the same amount and we can get something cheap together. It doesn’t have to be fancy, you know? It could be one room, for all I care. I’m just ready to live with you, and I think that you are too.”

Louis is looking down at their joined hands, but Harry’s nothing if not good at reading him after all this time. “It’s not a lot of money,” he says. “What I budget for food and my housing. It’s going to be the cheapest, shittiest flat ever.”

That’s - that’s an agreement. Harry resists the urge to scream in excitement. “But we can look?”

“We can look,” Louis agrees cautiously. “I wouldn’t - fuck. I wouldn’t get your hopes up, though, okay? Worst case scenario we can’t find anything in our budget and I stay where I am. If you even think about suggesting that you can pay more than I do I’m not going to talk to you for a month, Harry, I’m not joking.”

Harry squeezes him hard enough that Louis squeaks. “I’m gonna find the best flat,” he promises, squeezing again. “The best, cheapest flat.”

“Come on, baby, show me your muscles,” Louis shouts, beer bottle dangling from his fingertips. He’s lounging in the middle of the living room on a few pillows, shoes already kicked off and jeans rolled up above his ankles.

“You know this process would be going much faster if you were helping,” Harry points out, setting the box down on the ground.

“Why would I want to help when I could be ogling my hot, sweaty man while he moves us into our new house?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Harry raises an eyebrow right back and strips his shirt over his head. “I do know you,” he says, dropping down onto his knees in between Louis’ parted thighs. He makes sure to set the bottle of beer out of reach before resting his hands on Louis’ calves, slipping his fingers up underneath the hem of his jeans.

“I know that you have pretty little ankles,” he continues, stroking said pretty little ankles gently, teasingly. “I know that when I kiss them your toes twitch.” He demonstrates, pressing a handful of kisses to the smooth skin of Louis’ legs, around his ankle, over the bone.

Louis’ toes twitch. “Do you also know that the only proper way to break in a new flat is to fuck your significant other on the floor with all of your belongings still scattered around you?” he asks breathlessly.

“You want to get fucked?” Harry asks, kissing Louis’ ankle again and slipping his hands higher, up the insides of his thighs. “Right here on the floor until you’re dripping with it?”

Louis’ shiver is full body. “You gonna give it to me like that?” he asks, tangling a hand in Harry’s hair. “Fill me up?”

Harry climbs up the length of him, slotting their hips together. It doesn’t feel as good as it does bare, not with both of their jeans between them, but fuck if it isn’t good anyway, the press of their cocks together. “Yeah, baby,” he says, already leaning down so they can kiss, hot and heavy. He fills his hands with Louis’ arse, firm and tight, unable to resist squeezing the best he can through the fabric.

“Fuck,” Louis gasps, arching up into his hands in a way that makes it impossible not to bite at the line of his throat. Louis keens and scrabbles at Harry’s back, pushing him deeper, and Harry can’t not oblige that, can’t not bite him harder, can’t not mark him up.

Just for a second, though, before Louis is pleading, “Lube, Harry, find the lube, please, want you - ”

“Shit.”

Louis’ head thunks against the floor. “You packed it, didn’t you.”

“You were distracting me!” Harry defends. “How was I supposed to concentrate on packing properly when you were on the bed touching yourself?”

“I can’t believe you,” Louis says to the ceiling, twisting Harry’s nipple without looking. “You’re the worst.”

The nipple twist does nothing to ease the throbbing in between Harry’s legs, the fullness of his cock. “I could go out and buy some more?” Harry offers, fingers drifting across Louis’ belly, slipping underneath his shirt.

Louis arches into the touch. “There’s no time for that,” he decides, flicking at the hurt he’s caused. “You need to think of something else.”

“Something else, huh?” Harry asks, kissing the corner of Louis’ mouth. “Something like your favourite thing, maybe?”

Harry bites back his smile at Louis’ sharp inhale. No matter how many times he does it Louis always gets so into it, breathy and turned on in a matter of seconds, and that gets Harry turned on, and then it’s just a cycle. “I guess I’m down for that,” Louis says, petting Harry’s nipple softly, like he’s trying to make up for the sting, even though it’s long since faded.

“Oh, you guess,” Harry mocks softly, sweeping Louis’ shirt up his stomach, baring him from the nipples down. He’s tan and golden all over his chest and belly, and four years later Harry still doesn’t understand how he manages it. Don’t get him wrong, Louis tans, but he’s more of a ‘lie out in the sun every so often and bake’ type of boy. The evenness of it is incredible.

“I mean, since you’re so desperate for it,” Louis continues, hand not leaving Harry’s head as he kisses his way down Louis’ throat, pausing to suck another mark into his skin on the opposite side of the first before continuing down.

Harry swipes his tongue over Louis’ nipple, soft and gentle. Louis gasps and arches up into it, yanking on the hair in his grasp. It’s probably not intentional - he’s not even that sensitive there, but if Harry gets him just right he’ll beg for it.

That’s not what he wants right now, though, not what his cock wants. Probably not what Louis’ cock wants, either, so he keeps going, spending a couple of minutes worshiping Louis’ flat little belly, marking him with gentle nips and licks until Louis is breathless and needy, squirming underneath Harry’s hands, underneath his body.

“I know, baby,” Harry says, flicking Louis’ jeans open and easing them down to his thighs. His cock pops out, fully hard and flushed, so fucking pretty that Harry has to kiss it, tongue at the head a little, holding Louis’ hips down so he can’t thrust up.

“Fuck,” Louis wheezes, pulling Harry’s hair again. It’s intentional this time, means that he wants Harry’s attention, and who would Harry be if he didn’t give it to him. He presses another open-mouthed kiss to the head of Louis’ cock before looking up, holding it firmly in one hand, tight around the base. “Stop - ” Louis stops to swallow, throat working prettily, “Stop fucking around.”

“You want my mouth in other places, sweetheart?” Harry asks, nosing at the base of Louis’ cock, inhaling the scent of him, sweet and heady. Harry’s cock is pressing up against the zip of his jeans, trying to escape, so he helps it, opening his fly before returning both hands back where they belong, on Louis’ body.

Louis’ skin is bare and smooth underneath Harry’s hands, and it’s been four years but Harry will probably never get tired of how it feels, of knowing that it’s mostly for him, that while Louis gets off on it he gets off on it more because of how Harry reacts to it than how it feels for him.

“You know where I want your mouth,” Louis says softly, sweetly, asking the way he only does when he’s decided that being nice will get him farther than being pushy.

Harry doesn’t want to encourage him, so he’s never told him that the pushiness gets to him in a way that’s hard to ignore. He’s pretty sure Louis knows anyway.

“I do know, baby,” Harry answers, giving Louis’ belly one last kiss before sitting up, easing Louis over onto his stomach carefully, giving a minute to settle against the floor, pillowing his head on his arms, before he pulls Louis’ jeans all the way down and off.

He’s not wearing pants. Naughty boy.

“Pretty little arse,” Harry murmurs, pulling his cheeks apart so he can have a peek, breathing a little faster. “Pink and smooth and it’s all mine, yeah? Never let another boy up in here, would you, baby? Just want me, my cock and my tongue and my fingers.”

“Yes,” Louis breathes, twitching, trying to push his arse up, get more. “Yes, only yours. Never want anyone else. Spoiled me, didn’t you? Eat me out so good you make me cry.”

Harry wiggles his own jeans down more, until he can kick them off, leaving him in his pants and shirt, already unbuttoned all the way. “I do, don’t I?” he muses, leaning down on an elbow and breathing over Louis’ hole, close enough that he can see the goosebumps that prickle up on his skin. “Take care of you, don’t I? Always give you what you want.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, dragging his mouth across Louis’ rim, dry at first before he lets his tongue curl over his skin, getting him wet. Louis shivers, arching restlessly underneath his hands. Harry licks him again, harder this time, and holds him down for it, pinning him to the floor easily. Louis keens, muffled, breathing fast.

Harry’s cock presses against the floor, thick and ready to come out of his pants. He ignores it, holding Louis open as he eats him out deeper, tonguing past his rim with intent, pretty much losing himself to how it feels, Louis’ hole tight and warm around his tongue, to how Louis sounds, breathless and high-pitched.

Normally Harry would let him come just from the rimming or wait until he asks for something more, but this is their first time in their new flat and they’re on the cold hardwood floor and Harry doesn’t really want to spend their first day cleaning up dried come. He stops licking just long enough to pull his shirt all the way off, balling it up and easing it underneath Louis’ hips before getting back to it, making him even more wet, opening him up on Harry’s tongue.

“Lovely to me,” Louis’ murmuring, the words halfway to getting lost in his skin, slight sheen of sweat dampening him all over. “So good to me, Haz, always so good to me.”

“Deserve it,” Harry says, getting his hand around Louis’ cock and letting him thrust into it, slippery with pre-come, wet. “Deserve to be treated like the beautiful boy you are, my beautiful boy. Eat you out every day for the rest of my life if that’s what you want, just want to make you happy.”

“God, you do,” Louis sighs, still rocking his hips in Harry’s hand, gasping when Harry squeezes him just right. “You make me happy.”

It’s not a surprise - they wouldn’t be here, in their very first co-rented flat together if they didn’t make each other happy - but hearing it still makes Harry’s chest warm. “I love you a whole lot, baby,” he says, wiggling his tongue back into Louis’ hole and dragging his thumb across Louis’ slit, and Louis comes, hot and heavy into Harry’s hand.

Harry’s mouth waters at the noises Louis makes, getting his hole wetter, more ready. If only Harry hadn’t been such a fool and packed the lube they could be fucking right now, having their first time in their new flat bare on the floor.

There’s other things, though, other things that are just as good because they involve Louis and his pretty little body. Harry manages to get himself up onto his knees, turning Louis back over just as gently, tugging his shirt up over his head so he’s completely naked, bare to Harry’s eyes. “Pretty when you come,” Harry says, stroking Louis’ hipbones.

Louis pushes himself up onto his elbows, struggling a little. “You think I’m pretty all the time,” he says, pushing Harry back until he lands on his arse, the floor cold and hard underneath him.

“You are pretty all the time,” Harry says a little stupidly, already reaching for Louis, bare skin tempting.

“I’m pretty and now I’m tired,” Louis agrees, folding himself down over Harry’s lap pointedly. Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, unable to stop himself from stroking Louis’ head, threading his fingers in his hair. “So don’t go crazy, alright? Gentle.” He mouths at the head of Harry’s cock, sweet and soft, and Harry’s already crazy from it, blood rushing through his veins, cock pulsing.

Gentle. Harry can do gentle. He resists the urge to push up, get more of his cock into Louis’ mouth, petting him softly, letting him take his time, wet heat around only the head of Harry’s cock. “So good, baby,” he says, curling his fingers around the side of Louis’ head, underneath his jaw. “Such a pretty little mouth, pink little tongue. Love your mouth.”

Louis sinks down farther, taking another two inches, and his mouth is wet and tight and glorious and he’s so good, sucking Harry’s cock. Best boy in the world.

“Best boy in the world,” Harry says out loud, not even really aware he’s saying it. “Lovely boy. Gonna make me come, yeah? Don’t even have to try.”

Praise makes Louis flush, at least when he’s sucking cock, makes him that much more into it, makes him suck that much harder, and Harry’s breathless, balls pulling up against his body, so ready to come.

He can’t hold back any longer, doesn’t want to, and Louis slides all the way down, nose nudging up against Harry’s crotch, deep throating him even though he pretty much said he wouldn’t, and Harry comes, impossible not to when he has Louis sucking at him almost desperately, tight and warm.

“Fuck, baby,” Harry manages, once he’s finished pulsing out warm strings of come into Louis’ mouth, soft pink tongue still moving along the underside of Harry’s cock. He pulls him off gently, easily malleable, up into Harry’s lap so they can cuddle. Louis tastes like come when he kisses him, mouth lax and open, clearly not kidding about being tired. The bed isn’t even set up yet, still lying in pieces down the hall, but the mattress is in the right place and that’s good enough for tonight.

There’s a blanket around somewhere, thrown over the back of the couch because they were smart enough to leave that out but not the lube. Harry gets up with the intention of getting it, easing Louis off of his lap and back onto the floor.

“Don’t,” Louis says, grabbing at Harry’s ankle. His eyes are mostly closed, fingers slipping against Harry’s skin. It would definitely be easier just to tell him that Harry’s only going to get a blanket, that he’ll be back in a minute and then they’ll go to bed, wake up in the morning and have another round, quiet and simple beneath the sheets before they find the lube, just moving against each other.

Harry hauls him up anyway, careful not to let him feel like he’s going to fall, supporting him under his thighs. Louis mumbles something into Harry’s collarbone, mouth wet and plush against his skin. He’s not heavy, limp and clingy in Harry’s arms. Harry’s careful with him anyway - this won’t be the first time Harry drops him, not on the very first day in their new flat.

“Nice warm blanket,” Louis says as Harry wraps it around his shoulders, biting at Harry’s skin. “Liam gave it to us.”

Harry reconsiders his stance on not dropping Louis. “Liam might have given it to us but I’m the one you’re gonna think about when you see it,” he says, making his way down the hall, skirting boxes. “I’m the one who’s gonna make you come on it, after all.”

Louis’ laughter is light and pleased. He’s all Harry’s, this boy, and damned if Harry isn’t all his as well.

This is the start of the rest of their lives.

Harry walks down the hall with a slight bounce in his step, single red rose in his hand. He knocks on Louis’ door to the tune of a song he can’t remember the name of and then waits, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

He’s not nervous. This isn’t the first time that he’s taken Louis out like this, properly. Full effort, dressed up, fancy restaurant with the intention of having sex with him after. Louis is seriously slow on the uptake, sometimes. Harry knows that deep down - really, seriously deep down - Louis knows that it’s more than just sex, and Harry doesn’t mind waiting until that realization hits him.

And until then Harry still gets to be the sole focus of his attention a lot of the time, so. It’s not a bad deal.

Louis comes to the door fully dressed, shoes and everything, and he looks so good Harry’s mouth gets a little dry. Crisp white button down shirt with the first two buttons open, hair carefully styled, clean shaven and mouth pink.

“Oh, my phone,” Louis says abruptly, not even bothering to say hello, turning around to head back into the room, and Harry has to bite his tongue to stop a whimper from escaping.

That arse.

That arse on a regular day is bad enough, but framed by red jeans that hug him just right and framed by braces? Harry’s knees are a little weak.

“Those trousers make your dick look nice,” Louis says, tucking his phone into Harry’s pocket, shoving it all the way in a less than sneaky attempt to grope at Harry’s cock.

“They’ve got nothing on the way your arse looks right now,” Harry answers, craning his neck to take another peek. It’s just as good as he remembers, perky and practically begging for Harry’s hands.

“Harold, please,” Louis sniffs, shutting the door behind him firmly and not objecting to the way Harry slings an arm around his shoulders. “My arse looks good no matter what I’m wearing. I would have thought you would have realized that by now.”

“Sweetheart, you know that I love your arse,” Harry says, letting his arm drop to give said arse a gentle squeeze, and then ducks Louis’ attempts to smack him all the way to the car.

Louis loves the restaurant. Justin recommended it, and Harry’s glad that he decided to trust him. It’s an Italian place that comes complete with ambient lighting and a romantic atmosphere, wine and bread and pasta, and Harry seriously doesn’t know how Louis still doesn’t get it.

Dinner is good. Dinner is excellent, in fact, but Harry has a hard time concentrating on how it tastes when Louis is sitting across from him making ridiculous faces and licking his fingers entirely too seductively. Harry’s cock knows exactly how this night is going to end, and his brain has serious ideas about what the sex will be like.

The banter is over the top ridiculous as well, and by the time dessert rolls around Harry’s more than ready to take Louis back to his room and eat him out until he cries. They each had one glass of wine with dinner, and it’s been long enough that it’s completely out of Harry’s system. He’s so ready to go home and get his cock into that gorgeous little arse.

He helps Louis into his jacket once the bill has been paid, smoothing over his shoulders just because he can and he wants to, and Louis is downright impossible the entire drive back to the frat, touching himself, touching Harry, palms slick and sure, and by the time they pull up Harry’s half-formed ideas are full-fledged.

Resisting the urge to kiss Louis before they get out of the car is overwhelming, so Harry doesn’t even try, leaning over the console and holding him in place as he tastes the inside of Louis’ mouth like he’s never tasted it before and never will again, desperate and longing.

Louis pulls away first, but not giving Harry’s crotch a nice firm squeeze. Harry’s cock responds to him the same way it always does, pushing against the zip of his trousers. They’re both quick to leave the car and try to get into the house, elbowing each other as they try to fit through the doorway at the same time. Harry has to concede and let Louis go first - if he doesn’t Louis will probably make him beg forgiveness before he’s even allowed to let his hair brush Louis’ skin. He has a perfect view of Louis’ lush little bum as he bounces up the stairs, clearly putting on a show.

It’s a show that Harry appreciates every second of.

The door slams closed behind them much louder than Harry intended it to, but he pays it no mind. Can’t pay it any mind when Louis is already lounging in the middle of his bed, limbs spread in a way that’s practically begging Harry to fuck him.

Harry’s going to give him what he wants.

“Gonna show me what you got, big boy?” Louis asks, folding his arms underneath his head. “Or did you just bring me up here to stare at me like a creep? Because if that’s the case there’s plenty of boys out there who could give me what I want.”

“Might be plenty of boys who can give you what you want,” Harry says, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, letting it fall to the middle of the floor, “but there’s only one who can give you what you need.”

“Oh, we’re going to get Liam?” Louis asks brightly. Harry knows - he knows - that while there’s plenty of love between Louis and Liam it’s only platonic and will never be anything but platonic.

His chest tightens anyway.

“You think Liam can give you what you need, baby?” Harry asks, taking the four steps necessary to climb onto the bed and hover over top of Louis, propped up on his forearms. “Think he can fuck you like I can?”

The only place that their bodies are touching is their feet. Louis’ tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, quick and shiny, and Harry can’t. Louis’ been looking like sin all evening, and they’re finally here, in Harry’s bed.

“Could teach ‘im, couldn’t I?” Louis says breathlessly, holding very still underneath Harry, and Harry’s had enough. He doesn’t bother answering, not sure that it would be anything but a truly awful chant of mineminemine that would undoubtedly not get him laid, leaning back and flipping Louis over before he has a chance to say anything else.

Sometimes he lets his dick think for him, and that never works out, because now Louis is on his stomach but he’s still fully dressed. Harry bites back a frustrated noise and tries unbuttoning Louis’ shirt like that anyway, hands underneath his chest and fumbling around while Louis does absolutely nothing to help.

“Bet he’d be good at it,” Louis continues, voice wavering. “Seen his dick in shorts, you know. Looks big and - ”

No. No. No. The snarl that escapes him is unintentional, and Harry just gives up on the buttons entirely, ripping the shirt open, sending buttons flying. Louis stops talking, the tiniest little whimper escaping him while Harry goes about getting him naked, hands rough on him because that’s why Louis was talking like that in the first place, so Harry would rough him up a bit. Harry sees right through him.

Not enough to be able to stop himself from giving in, but. Harry sees right through him.

“Be quiet,” Harry says, a little belated. He finally has Louis naked, still spread out on his stomach, and he still has Louis’ trousers bunched up in his hands, and Louis is still being squirmy and mouthy.

There’s really only one option, here.

“Stay still, sweetheart,” Harry says, barely even recognizing the timber of his own voice. He unclips Louis’ braces from the trousers with steady hands.

“Be quiet and stay still,” Louis says, voice a little muffled by the pillows. “Two things that I excel at.”

Harry’s going to help him excel at those two things right now. “Give me your hands.”

Louis fumbles around, getting his hands out from underneath his head and offering them up to Harry trustingly, and that gets Harry more than anything, that Louis just does it without question, without concern, without worrying that Harry would hurt him.

Not that Harry would ever hurt him.

Well. Maybe some spanking. Louis does deserve it sometimes, after all.

Louis makes a little noise as Harry starts wrapping his braces around his wrists, binding them together tightly. “Harry?”

“Yeah, baby,” Harry murmurs, slipping a finger underneath the edge of the material to make sure it’s not too tight. “Need some help to be good sometimes, don’t you. Try to get underneath my skin and forget how easy it is for me to get under yours, too.”

The picture it makes is a fucking gorgeous one, Louis naked and helpless on Harry’s bed, dark blue sheets contrasting beautifully with his tan skin, hands held behind his back with his own braces, the curve of his arse mistakable, legs twitching. Harry’s mouth waters.

“Harry,” Louis repeats, slightly more apprehensive this time. Harry puts one hand on the inside of Louis’ left thigh and uses the other to start undoing his own trousers.

“You’re alright,” Harry tells him, squeezing a little. “Just tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

Louis mumbles something, face turned back into the pillow, so Harry abandons his zipper and leans over, using two fingers to turn Louis’ face back and kiss him, deep and wet, until his breathing has gone from anxious to turned on and happy. He keeps one hand on Louis’ skin while he finishes stripping, reluctant to let him go any time, much less when he’s like this, vulnerable and needy.

“Gonna eat you out now,” Harry tells him, still holding on to Louis’ chin. Louis blinks at him, eyes soft and blue, mouth pink and wet, and nods.

“Okay,” he agrees, moving to bite at the pad of Harry’s thumb. Harry lets him, pushing the digit into Louis’ mouth just for a few seconds, just for the way Louis’ eyes fall closed as he sucks gently, not bothering to try to cover his teeth.

It’s not similar to the way he sucks cock at all but Harry’s dick still throbs anyway.

“Never met anyone pretty as you in my entire life,” Harry says, rubbing one palm over the entirety of Louis’ bum, getting him warmed up. The skin is smooth and soft under his hand, gliding easily. He takes a second to rub his other hand over his own cock, jerking it a couple of times before he lets go and spreads Louis’ arse cheeks apart, exposing his soft pink hole.

He doesn’t miss the way Louis shivers.

“Knew you were gonna get laid, baby?” Harry asks, smoothing his thumb over Louis’ rim, bare and practically begging to be licked a little. Begging so good Harry can’t wait for an answer, ducking down to drag his tongue over Louis’ hole, flat and wet.

Louis’ answering moan is broken and a little high-pitched. His hips shift, and that won’t do. Harry pins him down with both hands, nosing against Louis’ skin. His fingers brush Harry’s hair, not quite reaching, and that might be the best idea Harry’s had in his entire life.

Tied up like this, Louis can’t move, can’t grab him, can’t do anything but lie there and take whatever Harry wants to give him, pretty and little, all Harry’s, even though he doesn’t really know it yet.

“Harry,” Louis says pleadingly, hips rocking the best they can with Harry holding him. Harry licks him some more, teasing him a little, not conscious of time passing. He feels like he could do this forever, eat Louis out until he cries uncle, until he just cries period.

“I don’t, I can’t,” Louis says, moving in a way that means he’s trying to flick his hair out of his eyes.

“Shh, you can,” Harry murmurs, slipping a hand between Louis’ hips and the mattress and curling his fingers around his cock, stroking him gently. He doesn’t speed up his licking, content with the pace he’s set, content to listen to Louis whimper nearly non-stop until his tongue starts going numb.

Then he pushes past Louis’ rim and into his hole properly, slicking him up on the inside. Louis cries out properly, thrashing so wildly that Harry nearly loses his grip and lets him tumble off of the bed. He doesn’t, thankfully, and Louis doesn’t even notice, coming apart on Harry’s tongue.

“Gorgeous,” Harry says, slurring it out against Louis’ arsecheeks, attacking him with renewed vigour, until Louis’ limp and shuddering, breathing wheezily against the sheets, fingers fluttering behind his back. He’s not even asking for anything anymore, fists just opening and closing, mouth slack and wet.

“You gonna come?” Harry asks, taking his mouth far enough away that he can see properly, see the way Louis’ eyelashes are casting shadows on his cheeks, on the light pink flush covering most of his body. Louis nods, tongue coming out to wet his lower lip, and if Harry was a better person he’d probably let him, eat him out until he does, let him have his orgasm that way.

Harry’s cock has been pressing uncomfortably against the mattress this entire time, though, and Louis goaded him into this, so Harry thinks he’s entirely justified for wanting to see Louis come on his cock instead.

“Yes,” Louis says, hips shifting as Harry works his thumb into him, going slow, gentle because he hasn’t stopped to find the lube yet. It’s a nice, easy glide, plenty wet from Harry’s mouth. “Gonna come.”

Harry wiggles his thumb and tightens his hand on Louis’ cock. “You can, if you want,” he offers, letting his teeth nudge up against the inside of one of Louis’ arsecheeks. “Or you can come on my cock. ‘s up to you.”

It’s a little mean, asking him when he’s so turned on he can’t really think straight, speared on Harry’s thumb with his cock in Harry’s hand. Explicitly given the choice, though, he’ll always chose the same thing. Every time.

“On your cock,” Louis says, trying to fuck his cock through Harry’s fist. “Please, Harry, on your cock, want to come.”

It takes a couple of seconds to find the lube and slick up two fingers. He’s careful to avoid Louis’ prostate as he opens him up quickly, keeping his grip tight enough that Louis won’t come from it, listening to the cadence of his breathing.

“Love your fingers,” Louis says, moving back. He’s pinned to the bed with Harry’s weight, his own hands making such a pretty picture tied behind him, but he’s still managing to move so much Harry has to be reluctantly impressed.

His cock is definitely impressed.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, even though he knows. “Get you off with ‘em next time, baby. Gonna get you off with my cock this time, though. You ready?”

“Yes,” Louis says, practically a hiss, and it’s another minute while Harry fumbles to get a condom on and slick it up, but then he’s finally pushing inside, relishing in how it feels, in how Louis sounds, gasping out broken versions of Harry’s name.

Harry stops when he’s all the way in, Louis’ hands pressing up against his hips at an angle that has to be uncomfortable. He pulls out enough that he has some room and then pulls Louis up with him, getting him onto his knees, but that’s no better. It gives Harry a lot more room to fuck him, but it leaves Louis balancing both of their bodies on his shoulder, and that’s no good.

Louis makes a soft, lost noise when Harry pulls all the way out. Harry shushes him, moving him easily, getting himself settled with his legs crossed and his back against the headboard before helping Louis into his lap, lining them up and letting Louis sink down easily.

“Fuck,” Louis says, voice breaking.

“’S the idea,” Harry agrees. Like this, he has to do all the work, lift Louis up and down on his cock, but it’s so fucking worth it for the broken noises Louis can’t stop himself from making every time Harry lowers him all the way down.

It’s so fucking good for Harry, and there’s not a single atom of him that doubts that it’s just as good for Louis, but he has to ask anyway, has to hear Louis say it. “Feel good, baby?”

“Good, good,” Louis agrees desperately, cock bouncing between their stomachs, trying to get some leverage, pick up the pace. “Make me feel so good, Haz, love your cock.”

One day he’s going to tell Harry that he loves him without having to add ‘your cock’ into that statement - that’s something Harry’s sure of. Today probably isn’t that day, but the knowledge that it will be one day has Harry moving him faster, fucking him faster, letting his hips snap up to meet him before he’s even all the way down. Louis’ whimpering is constant and loud, music to Harry’s ears.

“Feel so good, baby,” Harry tells him, lost in how it feels for a second, fucking up harder and faster, tracing the edges of the braces binding Louis’ wrists behind his back every time he gets the chance.

Louis comes like that, flushed on Harry’s cock, wrists bound, mouth open. He’s gorgeous - gorgeous - and somewhere down the line Harry’s going to tell him how much he loves him without expecting that Louis will freak out in return. For now, though, he babbles out more nonsense about how beautiful he is, how much Harry loves how he feels, and comes before he’s quite ready to, breathing heavily against Louis’ skin and completely losing his train of thought.

Louis is still mostly quiet, face tucked against Harry’s chest, soft little sounds escaping him when Harry shifts. It takes a minute for Harry to regain the feeling in his limbs, at least enough that he can ease Louis up and off of his cock before letting him settle back down, not even bothering with the condom. It can wait a minute.

“You have no idea how lovely you are,” Harry murmurs quietly, undoing the knots in the braces blindly. Louis rolls his shoulders and brings his arms around, letting Harry take a hold of them and run his fingers over his wrists, checking for anything that might be wrong.

“That was,” Louis starts, clearing his throat. “Fuck.”

That’s a sentiment Harry agrees with whole heartedly. He fishes for the sheets and draws them up the best that he can, shifting Louis so he’s more comfortable. “Fuck you again in the morning,” Harry promises.

The elbow he gets in the chest is worth it. All in all, it’s a pretty good day. Maybe even one of Harry’s best.