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Louis is downing his drink as quickly as humanly possible, refusing to leave it in the club after he spent fucking £12 on it. He knows it's not the brightest idea as the evening is nearing its end, but if he had it his way he would be up partying until sunrise.
He can't believe how boring everyone's turning.
He stumbles out by himself, not quite sure how he ended up drinking alone in the club, but as soon as he exits, he can see familiar faces littering the pavement outside of the club.
He walks up to the guys and scans the group and its faces for Eleanor, his girlfriend, not seeing her or any of the other girls they were out with.
"Where are the birds?" he asks as he reaches the boys, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.
Zayn shrugs, puffing at his cigarette while shivering.
"It's too fucking cold to be waiting around," he replies grumpily and Louis snorts.
"You propose we leave them behind?"
Zayn smiles lazily, implying that he at this point very much wouldn't mind.
"Sophia just texted me," Liam supplies helpfully. "They're just in the toilets and there's apparently a queue."
Louis groans and fishes his phone out, as well.
"Alright, I'll order an Uber. If El's not here by the time it arrives, she can walk," he states and Liam smiles slightly at Louis' mean tone.
There's a 15-minute wait until the Uber says it can come to their destination and Louis is close to murdering someone, before dying of hypothermia.
It doesn't help his mood that when Eleanor does come out with the rest of the girls, she tells Louis she can't go home with him. The implications of what that might mean for him are honestly not what he needs tonight, and he can already feel his stress levels rise at the news.
"I need to make sure Lizzie gets home alright, she's fucking out of it," Eleanor apologises, and taking one look at her near-comatose friend, Louis can't help but agree it might not be the best idea to send her on her merry way alone.
"Alright, I'll come with you guys then," he decides, trying to think about how they all should split up, but Eleanor shakes her head.
"Bros before hoes, babe."
Louis groans again, but at this point he'd honestly prefer to just get home to his own bed, rather than drive the twenty minutes longer to Eleanor's flat, after first having dropped Lizzie off at her place. That is if Eleanor even leaves Lizzie's place, which seems unlikely at this point.
"I fucking ordered a seven-seater," he says grumpily anyway, annoyed by even more money going down the drain. Eleanor gives him a soft consolation kiss but doesn't look particularly sorry for his loss.
"Alright, fuck it. Niall, is there room for El and Lizzie with you and Hailee?"
Niall and Hailee both look up from their burgers and nod, some grease trailing down both of their mouths as if they're mirroring each other. The way they devour the take-away would be funny if Louis wasn't so fucking cold and grumpy.
"It should be here any minute," Niall replies, slurping burger sauce from the wet paper containing his food, and of course Louis' Uber is the only one that's taking fucking forever.
He scans the chaotic mass of people surrounding them, trying to get sight of dark, curly hair and hits jackpot almost immediately.
Harry is standing close to a beautiful girl with long, mocha-coloured hair, dressed in a white lace top and a short, black leather skirt. Harry's got his hands around her waist and a playful smirk splaying his features as they lean towards each other and kiss deeply.
"Oy, Haz!" Louis shouts, annoyed, but Harry's too far away to hear so Louis turns back to the rest of the group, deciding not to bother with him at this particular moment. He looks busy anyway.
Niall was correct in his estimations and his Uber pulls up only a minute later.
Louis kisses Eleanor goodbye and helps Lizzie in next to her with minimal problems. By the time they've driven off, Liam's maxi Uber has arrived as well, and the rest of the group shuffles in and leaves, leaving only Louis left by himself. Freezing.
He's fucking moving flats. He's so sick of basically being the only one in the friend group living out of the way and in the complete opposite directions from everyone else. Why does he have to be so poor?
When the app notifies him that his Uber is only three minutes away, he grumpily moves toward Harry, feeling very generous for not simply leaving him outside the club to fend for himself. Why couldn't he have sorted a mode of transport home for them if he was already outside, while Louis was drinking for dear life inside? Is Louis being unreasonable in demanding the bare minimum, here?
Not much has changed since Louis last laid eyes on Harry; he and the pretty girl are standing a little bit closer, their kissing is a little dirtier and Harry has moved his large hands from her waist to her arse, cupping it quite obscenely for such a public space.
Louis struggles to make his way over to them; the last few shots and the drink he downed taking their effect, finally. A little too late, unfortunately.
"The Uber should be here in a minute," he says, too close and too loud, by the looks of it, since both Harry and the girl jump at his words, seeming shocked at his sudden appearance. The girl giggles softly and Harry drawls a lazy, amused smile at her. "Are you both coming, or?" Louis asks, looking at the girl with what he hopes isn't too much judgement.
The girl shakes her head coyly but looks flirtily at Harry. They keep staring at each other and Harry bites his bottom lip seductively, his eyes blown wide with lust.
"We're in a rush," Louis says a bit snippily because he doesn't have time to look at Harry and this random girl stare at each other like infatuated school children, waiting for one another to make a move.
"Why don't I give you my number," the girl proposes seductively, letting a finger stroke along Harry's side slowly, making his abs visibly clench under his obscene see-through shirt.
Harry smirks, grabs his phone from his back pocket, and unlocks it - not looking away from the girl's eyes and mouth even once.
"I can work with that," he drawls belatedly, his timbre deep and rich.
Louis can't help but roll his eyes as they take the longest amount of time ever to exchange phone numbers and kiss goodbye, sucking lips and swirling their tongues lewdly while doing so.
"I will literally leave you," Louis threatens when he sees the Uber approach and Harry still is attached to the girl.
He starts to walk away and stumbles over seemingly nothing when a strong hand catches him, grabbing his hip firmly and steadying him. He's confused for a second before he realises Harry finally has decided to grace him with his attention.
They both get into the back of the car, Harry having kept Louis flush to him with a steady hand on his hip the whole way there. It's only after Harry has helped him inside, and followed, that he finally seems to realise it's just the two of them.
"Is El not coming?" he asks, furrowing his brow a little and taking another look around him as if she's hiding somewhere in the boot. Louis snorts at the action.
"Nah. Lizzie, the friend she brought, got wasted so she had to look after her."
Louis leans back in the car seat as the car starts to drive. His head instantly starts spinning and he whines woefully.
"You okay?" Harry asks, a concerned tilt in his voice, and Louis whines again, pitifully.
"I'm drunk," he replies, feeling sorry for himself. He knows he's going to have the worst headache in the morning and he's already dreading it. "Need a cuddle," he demands, before thinking better of it, and when there is no reply he opens his eyes to sneak a peek at Harry.
Harry is looking at him, his eyebrows a little furrowed. He gnaws on his bottom lip and Louis kind of wants to punch him.
"Why're you being awkward?" Louis mutters, closing his eyes again.
"I'm not being awkward," Harry says after a moment of silence, before unbuckling his seat belt and agonisingly slowly moving towards the middle seat. He's barely managed to fasten the mid-seater seat belt before Louis leans onto his chest, impatient. There's another second of tenseness before Harry wraps his arm around Louis' frame, and he finally feels content.
"You're always awkward," Louis says, just to be mean. "You're definitely awkward now."
Louis can feel Harry roll his eyes as he leans back on the headrest in a more comfortable position.
"What reason would I have to be awkward?" he questions and Louis can't say much to that, you know unless he wants to actually make it awkward.
"Fuck, I'm drunk," he says instead.
"You don't have to keep saying that," Harry admonishes, a little annoyance bleeding into his voice as he scrolls on his phone.
"So I can't open my mouth now?" Louis asks, getting vexed too, and consequently jostling in Harry's arms, wanting to move away, but also enjoying the warmth, the smell, the hard chest beneath him.
"Not if you're 'gonna bullshit me," Harry rebuts and Louis fires up, getting proper indignant. Harry can't talk to him like that; he's drunk and cold and tired. Harry should stroke his hair and cuddle him, not give him grief.
"What the fuck crawled up your arse and died?" Louis asks sourly. "You this upset because you couldn't get laid?"
Harry snorts, petting Louis' now-flopped hair away from his face absentmindedly, still focused on his phone. Louis does not melt into the touch.
"Your jealousy is showing, babe," Harry drawls, too cocky and full of himself.
Louis bristles, gnawing his teeth. "What the fuck do I have to be jealous of?" he challenges. If Harry wasn't so damn comfortable, he'd end this right now.
"That I got so much attention today, of course," Harry smirks with fake innocence. "They were all practically throwing themselves at me, weren't they? Why, what did you think I meant?" Harry gives him a shit-eating grin.
"Someone's a bit full of themselves," Louis jabs in lieu of answering. "Not a nice colour on you, Harold."
"Well, am I wrong?" Harry asks smugly, still petting Louis with one hand, but now looking up at Louis to give him a confident smirk.
"There can't be a whole lot of special about you if everyone wants you," Louis just mumbles childishly, a little mopy.
Harry raises his eyebrows, amused. "You're saying I'm too popular to be special?"
Louis nods.
"You see, me; I am unique. You know; that one really cool, original couture sequin dress, in colours that shouldn't work - probably viper green - but does because it's high-end fashion. I am an acquired taste, sure, but it's because I'm a limited edition, expensive and fancy-fucking dress."
"You, on the other hand," Louis gives him a judgemental once-over. "You're just the basic, nice, blue silk shirt from H&M that will look quite nice on, fair enough, but people just want it because they see all the influencers wear something similar and they know it's an affordable knock-off that will get them compliments."
Harry nods along, mirth in his eyes and not the least offended.
"I do love myself a nice, blue, silk shirt," he murmurs, voice filthily low.
"That's because you're narcissistic," Louis quips back, voice clear and loud.
Harry's lips stretch into a beaming smile.
"I'm just happy you've managed to reel in your jealousy and bitterness at not being the sole centre of attention, for once." His voice is dry and deadpan.
Louis scoffs. "I think I'd be bored if so many people wanted a piece of me to be honest. It'd tire me out. Ruin my entire night…I'd probably punch someone."
Harry nods along to Louis' bullshit rambling, before smirking slightly.
"Wasn't the whole point of your analogy that if you see everyone wanting the blue shirt, you'd eventually want it too, though?" Harry murmurs, his voice once again too teasing and knowing for Louis' liking.
"Well, sure. If you're a mindless sheep."
Louis swallows, voice wavering just the tiniest bit and he feels uneasy now. "Myself, I've got a bit more taste," he says airily, regaining a semblance of control of whatever it is they're doing.
Harry doesn't answer, too busy with his stupid phone, and Louis gnaws his teeth, feeling out of his depth and like Harry somehow won. He can't very well continue his ribbing and pretence of cool aloofness if Harry doesn't even indulge him. Once again, he's annoyed beyond belief and wants to remove himself from underneath Harry's big arms.
"You're so fucking difficult," he mumbles under his breath, frustrated and hit with an urge to start something - any attention better than nothing, at this point.
Harry doesn't rise to the bait.
"Shh, babe," he just says calmly, visibly smirking when Louis tenses, throwing a sharp look down Harry's phone.
Louis is about to shout because of that comment alone, not believing Harry's belittling tone, but then he catches sight of what Harry's actually doing.
He's not messaging the girl from earlier, as Louis thought, but instead chatting with Niall. And the last message he sent simply says;
Well, Lou's being a brat as usual, but I guess that's to be expected.
Louis squawks with indignation and urgently does remove himself from Harry's side.
"You can't fucking talk about me like that!" he shouts loudly, and Harry looks up confused and a little alarmed, before his eyes move from Louis' furious face, down to his phone and back to Louis again.
As soon as he seems to understand what's got Louis so riled up, his features smooth again and he's back to being annoyingly calm.
"Are you not being a brat right now?" he questions nonchalantly, cockiness back in full force.
Louis seethes. "You have no right telling Niall about what we - about how I'm acting."
"Niall's my friend and I needed to vent my frustrations," Harry replies smoothly.
"Well, why don't you fuck off to Niall tonight then! You know, since I'm so bratty ." Louis is fully aware of the irony of his reaction, and he is not amused by it.
Harry's lips twitch to hold back a smile and Louis narrows his eyes.
"You know, all I wanted tonight was to have some fun, just a little bit of banter between mates, and you've been on my case ever since we entered the car."
At this, Harry suddenly turns serious, and he gives Louis a long, judgemental look.
"Are you kidding me right now?" Harry's voice is dark and dangerous.
Louis swallows, sensing he's somehow crossed an invisible line of Harry's for tonight.
"Never mind, you're clearly not in the mood for joking around," Louis mutters and Harry leans towards him, looking at him for the longest of times before he huffs unimpressed.
"You're right, I'm not."
Louis inexplicably feels chastised and he's frustrated by the whole ordeal. He wasn't lying, he honestly just wanted to have a nice time tonight, but it's been like pulling teeth with Harry.
He tries to retrace the conversation since they left the club, and then retrace the whole evening, to see why Harry's being so difficult.
He comes up blank, and the more he thinks about it, the more he realises that if anyone had a right to be angry tonight, it was Louis.
He really wants a fight now.
"I'm throwing away all of my blue shirts," Louis says grumpily to the window and Harry sighs a little, as if Louis is just ridiculous at this point. He's not. He's deadly serious.
"Yeah? You wouldn't come to regret it the next time you're drunk?" Harry asks drily and Louis turns around to look at him.
"If you've got something to say to me, spit it out," he practically growls.
Harry just gives him an infuriating, patronising look.
"I'm saying, love, that you're the most predictable person I've ever met and I've been able to practically smell what you want the whole, fucking night - from the moment you did your hair this afternoon, sober, may I add."
Louis blushes profusely, opening his mouth to deny whatever it is Harry is accusing him of.
"You're so incredibly obvious it's almost funny to look at you; running around like a headless chicken, trying to keep everything under your control and fit all the pieces together, while acting as if you're not practically gagging for it."
"Shut the fuck up," Louis growls. "You have no fucking idea what you're talking about."
He's almost shaking with anger and he feels drained of colour.
Harry narrows his eyes.
"Really?" he challenges, again with the patronising tone. "Well, let's do a little experiment then," he continues and his voice almost seems cruel with the way it quiets down ominously.
"We've both established I'm not up for any fun tonight, no bantering between friends, no messing around for shits and giggles or just having a laugh with a mate."
Louis swallows audibly.
"Fine," he grits out, clenching his fist and sending an embarrassed look to their driver who is making a very good job at pretending to ignore them.
Harry follows his gaze and his eyes darken before he gives Louis a cold, humourless smirk.
"So if you want me to fuck you tonight, love, you've 'gotta ask for it. Better yet, beg."
Louis hitches a breath; sending another panicked look the driver's way, blushing profusely, and seriously considering throwing himself out of the car.
He doesn't answer, just sends Harry a helpless, almost scared look.
What the fuck is Harry on? What is he doing? Why is he doing this to him?
Harry shakes his head and huffs out a breath like he's fed up with Louis, and it makes something ugly twist in Louis' gut.
"You've got until we're home," Harry simply says before he goes back to his phone, typing furiously on it.
Louis desperately wants to ask him if he's talking to Niall again, and if so, what the fuck he's saying to him, but Louis can't open his mouth. It feels like it's filled with cement - like it's welded shut.
He looks out of the window and sees the car turn into their street. His heart starts to beat uncomfortably quick and he shoots the driver another quick look, then Harry.
He clears his throat awkwardly and opens his mouth.
Nothing comes out.
The car turns to a stop and Harry moves to remove his seat belt.
"I want it," Louis practically screams and then cringes outwardly.
Harry looks at him a little shocked in the now dead silence.
"I want you to fuck me tonight. Please do," Louis says quieter, barely a whisper.
He then blushes profusely when Harry still just looks at him, his mouth a little open like he meant to speak but got stuck on his words.
"You're a fucking prick," Louis hisses, before he basically flees out of the car, smashing it shut much harsher than he should.
The embarrassment is in his fucking bloodstream, running through every part of him, and to his humiliation tears rapidly start to pool in his eyes.
He rushes into the apartment building, taking the stairs two steps at a time.
By the time he reaches their front door on the third floor, he's almost blinded by angry tears and he's biting on his bottom lip to avoid letting any sobs out.
He manages to lock himself into the flat and smashes the door shut behind him. He only bothers with kicking his shoes off before he runs into his bedroom and throws himself on the bed, feeling every bit like an overdramatic teenager.
That feeling doesn't subside when he burrows his head in his pillow and starts to cry with loud, heaving, angry sobs.
He can feel more than hear Harry entering the room a few moments later, and he decidedly ignores him when he feels his bed dip with Harry's weight, and a large, warm hand rests hesitantly over the small of his back, stroking it carefully.
"Lou?" Harry questions and Louis feels vindicated when he hears a tremor of guilt in Harry's voice.
"Fuck off," Louis just huffs out. "You wanted to humiliate me and you did, so mission accomplished. Well done," he sneers.
"Baby," Harry says sadly and the pet name makes something ugly and angry lurch in Louis' stomach. "I didn't mean to make you feel humiliated. I just - I didn't realise you'd react like this," he defends himself weakly and Louis scoffs.
"What did you fucking think would happen? That I'd proclaim my love and we'd live happily ever after?" he jabs, and regrets it as soon as he says it, and especially when he hears Harry take a sharp intake of breath.
He wants to turn around to ascertain the damage, but he resolutely burrows himself further in the pillow, hating himself as much as Harry right now.
After a moment of stillness, Harry exhales deeply and continues his soothing strokes on Louis' back.
They're quiet for a few moments and Louis can't fucking take the tense silence, it's eating at him.
"Why did you have to ruin everything? We - we had a nice, easy thing going. Why do you always have to make everything so fucking serious," he attempts to scathe, but his voice is weak and frail from the crying, so it comes out more pathetic than he'd like.
"Guess I needed one night without your bullshit excuses," Harry replies, sounding a little tired.
He then taps on Louis' hip shell with his fingers in a requesting way.
"Come on, babe. Turn around?"
Louis sniffles, but obeys dutifully after a moment's hesitation.
Harry tsks mother-henly when he sees his puffed-up, blotched face. He wipes away his tears with the pad of his thumb before he leans over to Louis' bedside to retrieve some tissue.
Louis feels like an absolute idiot when Harry puts it to his nose and tells him to blow.
It does help his breathing though.
"Come here," Harry says softly and Louis, gingerly, feeling like he's in a fever dream, seats himself in Harry's lap, hesitantly leaning his head on Harry's chest.
The crying intensified his headache and he now feels absolutely drained.
They sit quietly for a moment, the silence thankfully comfortable rather than tense, and Harry kisses his head softly while stroking his back.
"That was so hot, though," he offers conversationally, probably to lighten the mood, and Louis stiffens.
"It was horrific. The driver's probably ruined my ratings," he complains. Not that it was very good to begin with.
"Nah, he smiled at me after you left. I reckon he thinks it was sweet."
Louis snorts, rubbing his head into Harry's shoulder a little.
"Bullshit. Sweet's not the word you're looking for. Kinky, more like."
"Nah," Harry responds again through a smile. "I bet he thinks we're star-crossed lovers figuring our shit out, too scared to admit our feelings for one another. He'll probably tell all his Uber friends."
Louis sighs a little, picking at Harry's shirt, with guilt gnawing at him.
"Or he thinks I'm a fucking coward, too scared of being honest with myself."
Harry squeezes him a little but doesn't respond and Louis is happy. He's much drunker than he realised; never in a million years expecting to have this kind of conversation with Harry or say something like that out loud. He doesn't even like to think those thoughts.
"Fuck, I really am drunk," he exclaims, half-defending his emotional vomiting, and Harry laughs softly.
"Let me fuck you, Lou?" he asks sweetly, inhaling into his hair and sniffing at it.
Louis' heart starts beating harshly. His mouth is suddenly very dry again.
"Okay," he allows, swallowing nervously and Harry gently arranges him and lays him on the bed before hovering over him.
"Beg me, baby," he orders, kissing at the nape of Louis' neck, before grabbing the bottom of Louis' t-shirt and dragging it over his torso and extended hands.
The air feels chilly on his exposed skin. He looks into Harry's eyes and his pupils are widened, lust apparent in them.
"Please," Louis begs quietly, not even bothering to hide his violent blushing. "Please fuck me."
Harry's eyes widen further in wanton and he surges down to take one of Louis' nipples in his mouth, sucking brutally on it, marking the only inconspicuous place he can.
Louis bites his lips harshly to avoid moaning at the suction but fails spectacularly.
"Is this just a bit of laddy banter, Lou?" Harry asks calmly after he lets go of Louis' nipple and Louis squirms under the intense gaze.
Harry starts to unbuckle Louis' tight jeans and drag them off him, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of Louis' briefs and looking at him expectantly.
"No," Louis admits on a whine, knowing Harry won't let this go.
"Is it just a drunken mistake, baby?" Harry asks, kissing down the planes of his stomach while removing the briefs, and then continuing down his happy trail until he's nuzzled in Louis' pubes.
He stops, hovering over Louis' hard and leaking cock, and looks up at Louis.
" No," Louis bites out almost venomously and Harry smirks before he takes him in his mouth, sucking down obscenely.
Louis moans and fists the sheets, bucking his hips involuntarily.
Harry lets go of his cock with an obscene, slurping sound.
"Is this how just mates act with each other, love?"
" Harry! " Louis begs, because he can't do this now. He can't play into this fucked up game Harry is insisting on. He already feels so frayed - like he at any second may fall apart.
Harry arranges Louis' legs to rest on his chest and puts a dry finger over his rim, breaking the barrier with a slow movement. Louis hitches in shock as his hole is breached and Harry's long, dry finger pushes inside of him, knuckle deep.
"Is it?" Harry asks leisurely.
Louis gasps as Harry's finger does an experimental wiggle.
"No," he manages to wheeze out, and Harry thankfully removes his finger, making Louis pant like he's just won a marathon, feeling in shock at what just happened, what Harry just did to him.
"I didn't think so," Harry says simply and Louis throws him an angry look.
Harry smirks before he lays down next to him.
There's lube in his hands and he generously coats his fingers. Louis watches on mesmerised as Harry spreads his legs and starts to open himself up, his anger dwindling quickly at the sight of Harry's flush face, spread legs and long fingers.
He switches between looking at the obscene sight of Harry's fingers disappearing inside of his hole, and then guiltily looking up to Harry's face, finding his eyes have been on Louis.
He blushes slightly, but Harry only smiles softly at him.
"Come here," he beckons gently after a few moments and Louis inches closer, still very aware of the fact that Harry currently has two fingers nestled inside of his arse, working them in and out of himself while staring at Louis like he hung the moon.
He closes the distance between them carefully, leaning on his elbow as he hovers above Harry and kisses him softly. A moan escapes Harry as he slips his tongue inside and Louis' dick twitches treacherously.
"Feels so good, Lou," Harry praises into his mouth and Louis grabs a hold of Harry's face with the hand not supporting himself, needing more. Needing any part of Harry he can get.
When they finally part a string of saliva stretches between their mouths and Louis has no doubt he looks just as debauched as Harry does.
Harry gives him a lazy smile.
"'Wanna give it a go?" he asks, tilting his head down towards his groin and Louis swallows as he sees the wetness around Harry's hole and his long, piano fingers working themselves inside leisurely.
He probably kept fingering himself the entire time they kissed.
Louis bites his lips, feeling just so inexplicably wrong.
"Come on, love. Just a try. You can do it for me, can't you, baby? Just this once," Harry coaxes him with a secretive, coy smile and eyes looking up at him from beneath long, pretty eyelashes.
Harry fucking knows what he's doing.
Louis never thought he'd be on the receiving end of Harry's full-on bedroom eyes, and he suddenly has much more compassion for the girls and boys who have fallen prey to Harry's charm, desperately falling in love with him after a night together.
He nods slowly and Harry smiles almost predatorily, making Louis nervous for a second.
"Lube them up, love," Harry orders and Louis does as he's told for the umpteenth time that night.
He lets his fingers hover over Harry's pink, soft hole for a moment and looks up and into his eyes, needing a little reassurance.
"Three fingers should do," Harry says, smiling sweetly at him and Louis nods before he pushes three fingers slowly into Harry. His breath stutters as Harry opens up for him, taking him in with a ragged moan.
It doesn't feel like anything Louis has ever experienced. It's perhaps a little drier than he's used to, more work as he has to manually loosen the muscles in preparation, but Harry's insides are like velvet, and he's clenching around him, pushing him out and sucking him in simultaneously.
Louis looks up at Harry's face from between his legs, something weird fluttering in his stomach before going straight to his dick. It feels like arousal, but also like something more.
He moves in and out with quick, forceful movements, obsessed with the facial expressions Harry makes as he pushes inside of him.
Harry gives him a playful smile before his breath catches on a groan as Louis scissors his fingers experimentally.
"Alway so good, Lou. Always making me feel so good," he compliments breathlessly and then he's taking a hold of his own cock, jerking himself off with harsh, firm and quick movements.
He keeps his eyes on Louis and Louis can't help but hold Harry's gaze, even as he starts keeling and his hole starts clenching around Louis' fingers.
Harry comes with their eyes locked on each other and Louis breathes harshly, blinking once, before the reality of what he's doing comes crashing down onto him.
This feels intense, it feels intimate. It doesn't feel fucking fun at all.
He awkwardly removes his fingers from Harry's arse and wipes them on the sheets.
He then lays down and closes his eyes tiredly, his dick aching almost painfully, but his brain going into haywire.
Suddenly he can feel soft, plush lips against his and he throws his eyes open.
Harry is cupping his face with both of his hands, practically engulfing it, and he's demanding access to Louis' mouth, licking into it with perseverance and vigour.
Louis kisses back on reflex, moaning at the dirty way Harry kisses him; like a starving man who will never get enough.
"You wanted me to fuck you, didn't you?" Harry murmurs into his mouth filthily and Louis' warning bells start ringing.
"Harry," he pleads brokenly, and Harry sucks harshly on his bottom lip.
"I'm 'gonna fuck you with my fingers, baby. Just like you did me," he tells him and Louis shakes his head, already feeling wrecked and too tattered by the night's events.
"But you're not 'gonna touch yourself, love. You're 'gonna come from my fingers inside of you alone," he promises and a pool of desire bursts through Louis by Harry's confidence and words.
"Don't you want me to fuck you?" Louis, however, asks a little desperate, trying to entice Harry away from the dangerous waters they've entered.
Harry gives him a hard, quick kiss.
"Always," he reassures. "But tonight I'm 'gonna give you what you need."
"I - I don't-" Louis begins, but he's unable to finish his sentence because Harry has spread his legs and is experimentally pushing his still wet middle finger against Louis' opening.
Louis shakes his head, almost subconsciously, and Harry looks at him, pressing his finger a little harder on Louis' rim.
"Say you want me," Harry practically demands.
Louis closes his eyes and breathes harshly.
"I want you," he whispers in defeat, and then Harry's finger is inside of him again, pushing in and out agonisingly slowly, but going so deep Louis can't help but breathe harshly in and out, desire pooling in his stomach at the feeling of being filled, of Harry filling him up.
When Harry's finger momentarily disappears he can't help but let out a disappointed whine. He then blushes profusely and starts to wriggle away, mortified by his own inhibition.
Harry's hands settle down on his abdomen, pressing insistently to keep him still.
"Don't worry, baby. You'll get them back."
His voice sounds way too self-satisfied and Louis wriggles some more. Harry grips his hips firmly and presses them down into the mattress warningly, giving him a stern look, and Louis stills, hiding his face away from view by throwing his arms over it.
Harry thankfully lets him hide away in shame and lets go of his hips. Louis then hears the click of the lube cap opening and realises Harry must be re-lubing his fingers.
A stab of desire hits him again as he waits in anticipation. He can't help but clench his hole expectantly and he's suddenly breached by two wet, long fingers.
He groans at the uncomfortable, foreign feeling, and Harry kisses his knee cap soothingly.
"Just need to stretch you some more, love. Then it'll feel even better than before," he promises and Louis nods from beneath his arms, doubting it at the moment, but trusting Harry's confident tone.
It's like he knows Louis will love this; will love being taken by Harry, taking Harry in. It's an exhilarating thought, but also fucking terrifying. Do others see what Harry sees when he looks at Louis?
Someone who enjoys laying on their back, spreading their legs and having their arse hole fingered by another man?
He has to force himself to remember that Harry likes seeing him like this. He's the one who wanted to be inside Louis, so Louis doesn't need to be ashamed right now; wondering if he's doing it right or if he's too loud, too quiet, too still or too fidgety.
This is Harry for goodness sake, his best friend.
"Love seeing you like this," Harry says softly and Louis removes his hands and gives Harry a small, hesitant smile, which he returns easily.
It's like Harry can read his mind. Maybe he actually is as predictable to Harry as he was accused of being earlier?
"Yeah?" he asks quietly, letting a rare burst of vulnerability through.
"Yeah. You look so good taking me in, sucking my fingers into your tight, beautiful hole."
Louis blushes as his dick twitches, and he lets a moan out when Harry scissors his fingers slightly.
"Feels good," he admits and Harry dimples, looking immensely pleased.
"Of course it does," he, however, states easily and Louis rolls his eyes, once again ready to tell Harry his smugness isn't a good look on him, but in all honesty it is.
Louis has always been attracted to confident people and right now Harry is practically oozing it.
He never gets time to utter his jab anyway, because then Harry is hitting a spot which makes Louis' pleasure tenfold. He whines high in his throat at the impact, feeling the pleasure coil in his stomach like a fiery dragon, needing to breathe its fire.
He gives Harry a needy look, biting his lower lip, and Harry looks devilish in his glee.
"That's it, baby," he rumbles and then he's hitting the spot again and Louis curls his toes, arching his back off the mattress.
"Harry," he moans breathlessly and Harry's eyes darken in lust.
Louis doesn't get time to catch a breath because suddenly his hole is widened even further as another finger enters him, and then his prostate is rubbed again .
"Harry," he moans loudly for the second time, feeling destroyed by the deep thrusts of Harry's fingers.
He moves his groin by bucking his hips towards Harry's fingers desperately, meeting them halfway with a groan, but then the pleasure builds to a crescendo and it's too much. He keens as he squeezes his arse and moves his hips backwards, needing relief from the intensity of Harry's fingers working tirelessly inside of him.
Harry follows easily with a determined and lustful look in his eyes, spreading his fingers ever so slightly while he pumps them in and out harshly.
Louis' cock is aching and his fingers twitch with the need to touch himself. He whimpers embarrassingly and moves his hands desperately.
"No," Harry orders and Louis is about to ignore him, fed up with listening to him for the night.
"You touch your cock and I remove my fingers," Harry warns mercilessly with a voice that leaves no room for argument, and Louis whines as he pulls his hands into fists, trying his best to avoid antagonising Harry and thus miss out on the heaven which is currently bestowed upon him.
He feels delirious with pleasure and the need to touch himself is getting harder and harder to ignore.
He's rutting himself shamelessly on Harry's fingers, his own twitching every so often against the sheets. He grips Harry's elbow and squeezes it, giving him a desperate look, unable to verbally convey properly what he needs.
"Please, please," he begs in between moans as his prostate is attacked, again and again, tears falling rapidly from his eyes and down his temples.
"My beautiful Lou, so pretty for me, so good," Harry murmurs, sounding just as desperate and the words make Louis' face flame in shame, but his dick is standing straight up now, taking Harry's words to heart and loving every bit of it.
"I'm 'gonna make you come so hard, baby. Harder than anyone else ever has. You're so desperate for me aren't you, baby? Wanted me all night, haven't you?"
Louis can't do much else but nod and make an unintelligible noise, but it seems to be enough for Harry, because his movements quicken even more, and then, just as Louis thinks he's about to pass out, he can feel the tell-tale pressure in his abdomen and groin unfurl, before big, white streaks of come spurts out of his cock, landing on his stomach.
"Fuck," he curses out loud, tightening every muscle in his body, and then his mouth is attacked again; Harry messily kissing and licking into it.
"Fuck, you're so hot," he says and Louis moans in response.
He can feel Harry's fingers slip out of his arse.
Harry's brutal pace has left his hole sore, so it feels good in the aftermath to have them disappear, but for a second he almost misses them, suddenly feeling too empty without Harry inside of him.
Harry moves to lay next to him, and Louis immediately leans into his chest, still panting heavily, allowing Harry to put his arm around him, stroking his side tenderly.
"Can't believe we did that," Louis admits and Harry gives a small chuckle.
"I'm so proud of you for giving it a chance," he says and it could easily have sounded flippant, but Harry is so earnest, even giving Louis' head a soft kiss, so Louis is left with a feeling of pride, rather than shame.
"'Wanna make you happy," he admits, not too keen on disclosing how much he loved what just transpired, and Harry squeezes him in acknowledgement.
"Seeing you so hot and desperate for it definitely made me happy."
Louis burrows his head in Harry's armpit. Apparently, Harry is giving him no leeway or pretence of illusion today, instead hell-bent on making Louis admit to all of his feelings and needs.
"Give it a rest now, yeah?" he complains, annoyed, and Harry chuckles.
"I'll make you a deal," Harry proposes, his voice mischievous.
"The next time you want a bit of a laugh, I'll be the perfect, easy-going mate-" Louis looks up at him and gives him a suspicious look caught between shame, embarrassment and relief "- if you put on any dress of my choice."
Louis widens his eyes in shock at Harry's words and furrows his eyebrows, confused.
"Not really my style, Haz," he says, for a lack of anything else. He looks up to see if Harry's joking. Harry has a playful smile adorning his face, but his eyes show sincerity and seriousness.
"Come one, baby. It's just for a bit of banter, remember."
"Shouldn't you wear the dress, if anything?" Louis asks, deftly ignoring the jab, and stalling his response. Harry dimples.
"Any dress I want. Even if it's viper green and sequin, all expensive and limited edition," he repeats, looking devilish in his smug glee, and Louis blushes as he scoffs.
"Fuck off," he merely says.
He feels warm all over as he pictures himself in a sequin dress, laying on the bed as Harry fingers him, or maybe as he fucks into Harry's warm, nice hole.
"If you're good, I might even fuck you with my cock," Harry says and a stab of lust courses through Louis' body, before his brain catches up with Harry's words.
"No thank you," Louis rejects the offer, willing his heartbeat to settle and his breath to even out. He then tries to wrestle out of Harry's arms and shuffle away from him.
Harry doesn't let him, keeping him close in an iron grip around his waist.
It's one thing to fuck Harry when El's not there. A hole is a hole and sex is sex after all, and they're mates - it's completely innocent fun. Fair enough, things may have gone a little haywire today. He let himself be fingered by Harry which was not ever a part of the plan, and maybe he allowed himself to think a few thoughts he shouldn't have, but it's okay. It was just drunken exploring - letting Harry work out something he apparently needed and being a good friend in his hour of need.
It's, however, a whole different ballpark to let Harry shove his cock inside of him.
He can't explain that to Harry though. He'll misunderstand Louis' pragmaticality and be upset - and Louis doesn't want to ever upset him. He hates being the reason for that and he definitely doesn't want Harry to storm off and give him the silent treatment all of tomorrow.
"Got something to say?" Harry asks, a sharpness to his tone as he can apparently read Louis' mind, and Louis sighs, refusing to let himself be baited into an argument. Harry won't understand, he never does, and he definitely won't see Louis' point of view with the way he's been acting all of tonight.
"No," he just replies tiredly and Harry sighs like he can tell Louis' just keeping quiet to not ruin the mood and have him storm off.
The silence feels tense again and Louis is hit with an urge to apologise, even though he hasn't actually said anything to hurt Harry's feelings.
"Can I sleep here?" Harry asks after a while, the question caught on a yawn which almost covers both his annoyance and his hesitancy, and Louis can't help but smile ever so slightly, looking into Harry's tired eyes.
Harry's face softens slightly from its anger as their eyes meet and he sees Louis' fond look.
"If you make me breakfast, and don't steal the covers."
"Breakfast I can do. And I won't steal the covers if you spoon me all night, keeping me close," Harry replies, but his voice is just too quiet and earnest for it to be a light-hearted joke and Louis' smile dies down.
Fucking Harry. He just can't keep it uncomplicated.
"Turn around, then" he replies quietly, too tired to argue, and Harry smiles sweetly, dimples carved in each cheek as he turns around. He wiggles his bum obnoxiously as he pushes into Louis' groin, moulding his long frame against Louis' shorter one.
Louis rests his cheek against Harry's back, cuddling close as he throws the duvet over them both, before laying his arm over Harry's waist, and tugging him close to his own body, as requested.
He smells Harry's expensive after-shave mixed with green apples from his body wash, musky sweat and sex as he burrows his nose into Harry's skin. The smell is familiar and easy to fall asleep to.
"Love you, Lou," Harry murmurs quietly, half asleep, tiredness having overcome his voice.
Louis squeezes him in acknowledgement, and just when he thinks it might be too late for Harry to hear him, he decides to respond.
"Love you too, Haz. So much."