Work Header

turn you on, make you radiate

Work Text:

I. Bungalow, 2010. Giggling.

Everyone is asleep inside the bungalow except for Harry and Louis. They’re sitting at the edge of the pool, feet gliding through the water as their conversation lapses into silence. The only sound for a moment is the ripple of the water and the clank of their wine coolers. Harry found a case in the kitchen pantry; both of them have gone through all but two, and although Louis knows he’s nowhere near buzzed, the overabundance of carbonation has left him feeling light and airy. Off to his side, Harry sighs and leans back on his elbows, turning his face up to the moon. He looks kind of stupidly pretty right now and it makes Louis’ belly ache with want.

Harry’s face is flushed and happy as he turns to flash a serene smile at Louis. He really, really wants to kiss him. He’s wanted to kiss him since he saw him in line outside of the audition. He’s wanted to kiss him since he ran into him in the bathroom and flirted his way into getting an autograph of all things. He’s wanted to kiss him since he jumped excitedly into his arms in front of the judges. The feeling just won’t go away. He’s not sure he wants it to. Looking at Harry right now, pretty little Harry, Louis is quite sure he wants to feel like this forever.

He just wants to kiss him. So he settles for tickling him.

He lunges toward an unsuspecting Harry and latches his hands onto the sensitive skin of Harry’s ribcage. Harry lets out a loud squeal and flinches away, laughing uncontrollably at the sensation of being tickled.

“Louis, no!” he whispers.

Louis grins and shakes his head, going in for the kill – he moves his fingers up his body and attacks Harry’s armpits. Harry cries out and curls his body inwards to try and get Louis off, but Louis stands up on his knees and straddles Harry’s thighs to keep him immobile beneath him. “Can’t get away that easy, Styles.” He acknowledges to himself distantly that the way his crotch is moving against Harry’s is very interesting to him, but he tries to focus all of his attention on attacking Harry and push the thoughts out of his head.

Harry’s laughing uncontrollably now, trying desperately to end the relentless tickling. His eyes are watering and Louis thinks it’s time to finally stop before Harry wees himself – he hasn’t forgotten the time Harry splashed him at the urinals during auditions – but then he moves his hips just so and—Harry’s hard. At least he thinks he is. He moves his hips back gently to check, stilling his hands as he peeks down between them. It’s dark, but the lights around the pool are just bright enough for Louis to see the strain of Harry’s dick against his rolled-up sweatpants. He glances up at Harry whose eyes are squeezed shut.

“Harry…” Louis murmurs.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says. He blinks his eyes open and fixes his stare at some point to the right of Louis’ head. “This is so awkward, I’m so--I’m sorry.”

It is a bit awkward, yes. But Harry’s gorgeous and blushing and hard, and Louis wants him so much, so he’ll be damned if he lets this opportunity slip from his grasp and fuck everything up. He moves a leg off to the side so that he and Harry are lined up; Harry flits his eyes towards Louis, confused, but Louis just gives him a small smile. With a gentle push, he rolls his crotch slowly against Harry’s. Harry gasps and searches Louis’ eyes like he’s looking for the merest hint that this is a joke, but he doesn’t seem to find one. He bites his lower lip and lets his head fall back onto the concrete as he moves his arms to wrap around Louis’ shoulders. Louis leans down slowly, testing the waters. Harry lets his lower lip free as he watches Louis’ mouth. Louis takes it as a cue to surge forward and kiss him. It’s quick and innocent, contrasting wildly against the gentle nudges of their hips. Harry giggles and grins, his dimple leaving a deep crater in his cheek.

“Kiss me again,” he says. And who is Louis to disobey, really? He’s smiling as he leans down to press their mouths together once more. He fits his lips around Harry’s bottom lip sweetly while Harry lets out a long sigh. Louis pulls away and gives him a look.

“Did you just sigh into my mouth? Is this kiss not good enough for you, Haz?”

Harry cackles and tugs Louis down while he surges up, fixing their mouths in a more heated snog. He snakes his tongue into his mouth and grabs at the back of Louis’ head to bring him closer. Louis moans and slides his tongue around Harry’s wetly; in the still of the night, the only sounds are from their tongues and their staggered breaths.

Louis pulls away and breathes at Harry’s mouth harshly, fixing his fingers around Harry’s hipbone and clenching. He rolls his hips more firmly against the other boy’s, reveling in the feeling of him hard against him. It’s a bit ridiculous, he thinks, that just ten minutes ago they were chatting about school and now they’re like this, all because of some tickling. He huffs out a laugh and nudges his head into Harry’s collarbone.

“Why are you laughing?” Harry complains breathlessly.

Louis lifts his head back up and grins. “Didn’t know tickling would turn you on this much, Harry.”

For a moment Harry frowns, like he can’t believe Louis is teasing him while he’s got him in this position. But then his face clears and he giggles against his will, rubbing his nose against Louis’. It must start a chain reaction, because then Louis is giggling, laughing against Harry’s mouth as they kiss.

When Harry comes moments later, hips stuttering wildly against Louis’, he has a grin plastered to his face. Louis swallows his smile with his mouth when he follows seconds later.

Louis collapses at his side afterward with a leg thrown over his hips. He feels a little gross in his shorts, but he can’t bring himself to move just yet.

“Gonna have to tickle you more if it gets you this hot, babe,” Louis comments.

Harry shrugs slightly and sighs. “Everything about you kind of gets me hot, Louis.”

Louis mulls that over. He lifts his head up to place a kiss at Harry’s jawline and whispers, “Well, I am quite fit, so…”

Harry’s hands are on him in a second, tickling into his sides in retribution while Louis dissolves into helpless giggles.

II. LA home, 2014. Spanking.

The first smack to Harry’s arse echoes throughout the sparsely decorated room, bouncing from wall to wall. The sound is quickly followed by a staggered moan as he draws in a shaky breath and counts, “One…”

It’s their first night together in their new home – a secret home, as Harry always stresses – and Harry wanted to christen it the best way he knows how. When Louis walked through the door just an hour after getting off the plane, Harry ran to him from the kitchen, tackling him against the front door and smattering his face with kisses. “Missed.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “So.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss.

He pulled away and leveled him with a huge grin, eyes twinkling with happiness. “Would you like a tour?”

Louis had already seen the house on his last trip to LA, but he indulged Harry anyway. Harry
lead him through the rooms, proudly pointing out all of the decorations he had picked. When they stopped at the door to the bedroom, Harry bit his lip to smother a grin. He opened the door and Louis’ gaze immediately fell to the bed. It’s huge and luxurious, but what really caught his eye was the bedding. The duvet was pulled back to showcase dark red silk sheets. Wildly sexy and expensive-looking silk sheets. Harry ducked down to press his lips against Louis’ ear as he whispered, “Want you to bend me over the bed and spank me tonight, Lou.”

So, hours later, Louis is doing just that. He has Harry stripped bare and bent over the bed, cock rubbing against the sheets that are just as silkily soft as they look. Louis drags his hand back and slaps his right cheek, watching the skin jiggle and redden before his eyes.

“Two…” Harry moans. Louis doesn’t know if they’ll make it to ten. He’s so hard already, and it’s kind of silly really, how gone he is for this boy. Even when he’s got him bent over the bed, arse up while he slaps his bottom (“Three,” Harry groans.), he still feels like Harry has all of the power over him. He’s a fool for him. He doesn’t really mind.

He slaps his right cheek again, listening intently to the tremble in Harry’s voice as he counts it off, and then pauses to rub his palms into his skin. Those were the warm up smacks. He pulls Harry’s cheeks apart briefly and peeks down at his entrance, watching it twitch lightly around nothing.

He pulls his hand a little further back this time, brings it forward a little more harshly as he lands the fifth spank against Harry’s left cheek. Harry whines and turns his face to the side, eyes clenched shut. “Five!” he whines.

He always looks so pretty when they do this. Any semblance of physical control Harry has is relinquished while Louis plays his body like a fiddle. His arse is red, but the skin of his back is flushed too, although nothing compares to the blush heating up his face. He opens his eyes faintly and turns to look at Louis, giving him a weak mewl. Louis raises his hand and smacks once more; there’s a delay this time before Harry counts off the sixth hit, and Louis knows he’s starting to lose it. He glances down at the sheets and sees the sticky trail Harry’s cock has left behind on the silky fabric.

“You’re doing so good for me, darling,” he whispers. Harry’s lashes flutter and he bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut once more.

The seventh hit is probably the hardest. The shock of the impact stings his palm. There are bright red handprints on both of Harry’s cheeks, vibrantly contrasting against the paleness of his arse. Harry whines and grinds his cock into the bed in response, forgetting to count off the number. Louis frowns and tugs at his hips to keep him still; he leans down to whisper at Harry’s ear, “Count, Harry, unless you want me to start again.”

Harry would probably want him to, is the thing, but his desire to please Louis must outweigh the greediness he feels. “Seven,” he cries.

Louis smooths his hands over his arse while he murmurs pretty compliments to the other boy. (“Such a gorgeous boy, you are.”) He delivers the next two smacks in succession, jolting a cry of surprise from Harry’s lips. Harry scrabbles at the sheets beneath him and sucks in a sharp breath, gasping, “Eight. Nine.

Louis keeps him waiting for the next spank, trailing his fingers delicately over the slope of his hips and the cleft of his arse. Harry adjusts slightly, spreading his legs further apart and pushing his arse up in the air, begging for attention. Just as Harry opens his eyes, presumably to shoot Louis a confused glance, Louis brings his hand back and delivers the final smack to Harry’s arse. Harry wails loudly and collapses against the bed, screaming “Ten!” into the bedsheets.

Louis snakes his hand under Harry’s belly to support his weight, trailing his other hand along his arse to massage his sensitive skin. “So good, baby. You did so well, I’m so proud of you.”

Harry lifts his head and opens his mouth for a kiss. Louis grinds purposefully against his sensitive arse while they kiss; Harry hisses into his mouth and whimpers at the pain.

Louis pulls back and just breathes against Harry’s mouth. Harry’s eyes are watery and desperate, pleading wordlessly for something more.

“Open yourself up for me, angel,” Louis orders. He moves back and grabs the lube sitting by the bed and tosses it onto the sheets beside Harry. Harry starts to get up, pushing himself up on his forearms, but Louis presses down against his back and tuts. “No, baby. Like this.”

Harry bites his lip and nods, reaching for the lube and squeezing it onto his right hand. He lays his cheek against the sheets and pulls his right leg up onto the bed until he’s spread apart. He reaches his hand behind him (The angle is tough, and Louis knows it’ll be hell on his back, but Harry does it anyway. Louis will give him a thorough massage later.) and circles the tips of his fingers around his rim. He dips his middle finger inside slowly, pushing it in as far as he can reach, and then draws back, pushing it back inside almost immediately. He shudders and rubs his cheek against the bed; Louis can feel Harry staring at him, but he keeps his attention focused on the movements of his fingers.

The second finger goes in soon after the first, stretching his rim obscenely. Louis unzips his jeans and steps out of them, keeping his briefs on while he sits on the bed beside Harry. He brings his hand down to stroke along his clothed length slowly from base to tip, pausing at his waistband to circle his thumb around the wet spot that’s formed there. A groan from Harry catches his attention and he glances up to see Harry’s eyes staring hungrily at his cock. He smirks and tickles his fingers along his length, teasing him.

“You wish this was your hand, darling?” he asks. “Or no, your mouth. You want your greedy little mouth all over my cock, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry whimpers and nods desperately, opening his mouth like he expects Louis to stick it in.

“Add a third finger, baby,” he orders. “Not getting my mouth tonight. Going to have to settle for my cock in your arse.” Harry whines and ruts against the bed; Louis supposes that isn’t exactly a huge disappointment for him. “Ah, you want that, don’t you? My cock splitting you open?”

Harry nods weakly as his fingers speed up, thrusting fast into his hole as his arm quivers from the exertion. His fingers can’t be hitting his prostate at this angle, but he seems to be getting off on it anyway; the sheets beneath him are darkened with his leaking precome.

Louis toys some more with the waistband of his pants and then peels them down to rest under his balls. He wraps his fist around his dick and pumps it slowly, rubbing his thumb along the head with every upstroke. Harry whines at the sight, but Louis ignores him again, watching as Harry’s movements grow more frantic. He knows his arm must be cramping by now and he doesn’t want to hurt his boy, so he decides to put a stop to it.

“No more,” he demands. “Fingers out, love.”

Harry huffs out a complaint but complies, resting his arm off to his side and straightening his leg to shake out the kinks.

Louis shucks his pants and reaches for the lube to slick himself quickly as he moves to lay down on his side on the bed. He pats at the sheets beside him and gestures for Harry to move on over. Harry scrambles to his side, letting Louis maneuver him into place. Louis turns him so that his chest rests against Harry’s back. He tugs on Harry’s leg and pulls it to lie over his own, keeping him spread just far enough apart to nudge his cock against his entrance. Harry hisses and grinds his arse backwards, but Louis keeps him still as he presses the blunt head of his cock inside.

Even after all this time, Louis is consistently amazed by how bloody tight Harry is. Inch-by-inch as he sheaths himself inside, Harry’s body squeezes his cock so tightly that Louis has to suck in a breath and dig his nails into Harry’s hip to keep himself from losing control. He moves his other hand under his head to grab at the hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck. He drags his head backwards so that his neck is bared and sinks his teeth into the sensitive, lightly tanned skin of Harry’s neck. Only once he’s finally nestled deep inside, Harry’s warmth squeezing him tight, does Louis relent on Harry’s neck. He licks his tongue around the bite mark and sucks while Harry whimpers and reaches down to thread his fingers through Louis’ on his hip.

“You ready, darling?” Louis asks. Harry nods wordlessly and squeezes Louis’ hand. Louis shifts his hips back until he’s almost pulled out and then pistons himself back inside, drawing a startled moan from the other boy.

He works himself in slow, strong movements designed to hit Harry’s prostate, working on him relentlessly until he’s a mess beside him. It doesn’t take much, really. After a few steady strokes, Harry gasps and squeezes Louis’ hand, arching his arse backwards into Louis’ crotch.

“There,” he mewls. Louis burrows his head in between Harry’s shoulder blades and clamps down on his hip, thrusting deep at the same angle and keeping himself buried inside while he makes slow, jerky movements to rub the head of his cock against that spot.

Harry grinds his arse against Louis’ hips to help him along, desperate for him to keep hitting the same spot. Louis peeks his head around his arm and glances down at Harry’s neglected cock. It’s heavy and dark, precome bubbling at the slit and smearing along his tummy. He thinks about gripping him in his fist, jerking fast to get him to come quickly all over himself, but he throws that thought away; he wants him to come just from his cock.

His controlled pace can only last so long; he feels the stirrings of his own orgasm brewing in his belly. He fucks into him faster and harder until Harry has to move his hand from Louis’ to grip the bedsheets in front of him. He cries out with every thrust, louder and louder until Louis starts to vaguely wonder if they can be heard from outside.

He leans up to lick at the shell of Harry’s ear and whisper, “Did so well, baby, but I want you to come. Now.”

With one last thrust, Harry stills and clenches impossibly tight around Louis’ cock as he comes untouched all over his belly and the sheets. Louis grunts and empties himself inside of him, pulling Harry’s body harshly against his own.

When he finally regains the ability to fucking breathe, he loosens his grip on Harry’s hips and pulls out. He keeps himself close, however, lined up against Harry’s back, pressing gentle kisses along the vertebrae of his spine.

“Fucked up those expensive sheets a bit, didn’t we, H?” he comments, wrinkling his nose at the come stains quickly setting in.

Harry just snorts and turns around to pull him to his chest. “Worth it. Happy housewarming, Lou.”

III. Tour Bus, 2012. Quiet.

Harry pushes Louis onto his bunk and climbs in quickly after him, drawing the curtain closed and leaving the space cloaked in darkness. He fumbles around, trying valiantly to not bang his head against the top bunk and draw unnecessary attention. He fails, of course, clunking against the ceiling of the bunk and muttering a hushed curse. Louis giggles loudly and Harry panics, throwing out his hands to where he thinks Louis’ mouth is to shut him up.

“Quiet, Louis. They think we came back for a nap. A nice, innocent nap,” Harry whispers.

They’d been out in the lounge area of the bus with the rest of the boys earlier, playing FIFA and throwing popcorn, but everything kind of changed when Harry glanced at the couch opposite of him where Louis was and saw him sprawled out provocatively. His legs were spread apart with his hand behind his head to support his weight while he gave Harry a lewd smirk and shot a pointed look down at his clothed cock.

Harry took the hint.

Yawning loudly, Harry stretched his limbs over his head and gave an over the top groan of fatigue. “Christ, I’m knackered,” he announced. “Gonna nap for a bit, I think, boys.” The others murmured in acknowledgement but kept their focus on the TV while Harry got up and moved back to the bunks. He raised his eyebrows at Louis and gestured for him to come with.

“You know what, boys, I’m a little tired myself. Think I’ll lay down too.”

Niall looked up from his controller then to shoot Louis an unimpressed look. “Swear to god, Tommo, if you fuck on this bus…”

Louis gasped dramatically and started walking back to where Harry stood behind the curtain. “I would never, Niall. Sleep is all I’m after. You’ll not hear a peep from me.”

Harry could hear Niall mutter something under his breath but he stopped caring about whatever he was saying as soon as Louis swung the curtain back and closed it to join him.

So now, with Louis beneath him and giggling of all things, he feels the pressure to be a little discreet.

“Gonna suck your cock,” Harry murmurs. “And you, babe, are going to be absolutely silent.”

Louis says nothing in response; he pushes his hips up against Harry’s though, so Harry fumbles with the waistband of Louis’ sweatpants and drags them down to his ankles. The bunk is cramped, but he manages to situate himself on his belly in between Louis’ legs after he lifts them up to rest over his back.

He rubs his face against the soft skin on the inside of Louis’ thighs, pressing gentle kisses and nibbling into his flesh. He inches around until he noses at the base of Louis’ cock. He wraps his fist around it loosely, pumping slowly to get him hard. He places small kisses at the base of his cock, trailing upwards until his lips are just under the head. He wraps his mouth loosely around the head and wiggles his tongue in his slit. Louis hisses a little so Harry pulls back and tuts.

“No sound,” he warns.

He leans back down and starts to suckle at the head, running his tongue all around the blunt tip. He eases himself down a couple inches, keeping his lips over his teeth and his tongue along the vein at the bottom. He wraps his fist under his mouth and starts to bob slowly up and down, sucking tight around his cock, giving the head a little flick of his tongue with every upwards motion. He lowers his fist to take more in until he’s got about half of his dick inside his mouth. Louis’ hands shoot forward to wrap themselves gently in Harry’s hair, applying gentle pressure as Harry sucks slowly. Spit dribbles down over his cock, providing the barest amount of slickness, so Harry finally starts to move his fist too. He keeps it wrapped tightly around the base with every bob upwards and then eases it up to his mouth whenever he presses down.

He thinks he’s gotten better at this since they got together years ago. Well, he doesn’t just think, he knows he’s better. When they started, he was all enthusiasm and no finesse, too desperate to get Louis’ cock in his mouth to focus on the little things, like no teeth and no attempting to suck Louis down to the root immediately. The first and only time he tried that he wound up gagging so hard they had to take a break for fifteen minutes just so Harry could catch his breath and make sure he didn’t throw up. Thankfully he’s moved past that.

Now, though, he knows how to work Louis’s body like some kind of super sexy instrument.

He pulls off Louis’ dick to lick around the head again, swirling lovingly over the tip, and then licks down to the base and back again. Louis’ grip on his hair tightens and then releases. He might be trying to tell him to stop teasing, so Harry’s going to do the opposite. He licks thoroughly around the first couple inches of his dick, getting it nice and wet, his spit trailing down to his fist. And then he withdraws completely, breathing heavily over the tip. He blows softly at the head; Louis’ thighs grip his head tightly as he thrusts up into the sensation. Harry grins and keeps blowing, trailing his other hand over the sensitive skin of Louis’ hip, and then up and over the soft skin of his belly. He rakes his nails over the little pouch of skin and plays with it idly while he blows.

“Haz--,” Louis starts. Harry removes his fist from his dick quickly and lifts himself away so that he rests on his forearms a few inches above him. Louis takes the hint and stops speaking, huffing out a frustrated, staggered breath.

After waiting a few seconds to make sure Louis stays quiet, Harry ducks back down and lowers himself slowly; he keeps his mouth wrapped loosely around him, providing little suction. Louis’ hands come back to his head to push him down further. Harry contemplates shaking him off, teasing him for longer, but he decides to give him this little bit of control. He goes down, down, down until his lips meet his fist, and then he moves his hand and goes further; Louis’ tip nudges at the back of his throat but Harry ignores the twinge of discomfort and keeps going. Eventually his mouth meets the base, his nose nestled against the fine hairs at the bottom.

There’s a soft keening sound above him, but Harry lets it slide this time, focusing on keeping his breathing steady while he basically gags himself on Louis’ cock.

Abruptly, he realizes he’s hard, aroused at the knowledge that he has this much control over Louis. Unquestionably, out of the two of them, Louis is usually in control. Harry prefers it that way; he likes having Louis take the reins in the bedroom, during interviews, during recording. Louis was born for it, and Harry would follow him to the ends of the earth probably.

But sometimes, times like now, Harry likes having the advantage. The fate of Louis’ dick rests in Harry’s mouth. He hums around Louis’ cock while he aims a feeble thrust at the bunk beneath him. He’s pretty sure he can get off with just the weak friction of his dick against the bed and the welcome fullness of Louis’ cock in his mouth.

He lifts himself off several inches and then plunges back down quickly. His mouth is so wet that the base of his dick is covered in spit and there’s a weak wet sound whenever Harry moves. He thrusts harder against the bed at the thought of doing this in the light, seeing Louis’ messy dick every time he goes back up.

He lifts himself off with a pop and takes in a deep breath, jerking his fist fast over Louis’ length in compensation. He gives a few kisses to his hip and then moves back down, bobbing shallowly but fast over half of him. He knows Louis is close, can sense it in the way Louis’ breaths have quickened and his hips are swiveling into his mouth. He goes deep once more, gives him one last thorough suck, and then leaves the head of his dick against his tongue while his fist flies over his length.

He can’t see anything, but he hears the rustle of a pillow and then an extremely muted grunt as Louis comes in his mouth. Harry stifles his whimper and gives one last dirty grind into the bed as he comes unexpectedly in his pants. Fuck.

He swallows Louis’ come and gets up on his knees, crawling over Louis’ body and aligning himself with his side, panting into his collarbones. Louis moves the pillow from his face and pants into Harry’s hair, moving his hand to stroke at his shoulder blades.

“Can I talk now?” he whispers. Harry nods against his chest and grins. “Just want you to know, that as soon as we’re in a hotel...I’m getting you back.” Harry bites his lip and burrows his face into his chest to hide the whine that escapes his lips. Christ. He can’t wait.

IV. London Home, 2013. Tattoos.

The decision to tattoo each other was not taken lightly by Louis. He knows it’s stupidly unsafe for someone whose artistic skills don’t often reach beyond drawing dicks on people’s faces to tattoo someone -- the love of his life, even -- without a license or any training, but. Here he is. Harry and him have been practicing for weeks on oranges and they’ve read every online tutorial they could get their hands on. So at least they’re not going into this blind. Or this is what he tries to tell himself.

Harry has already taken his turn on Louis. He has at least some experience doing this from the times he tattooed his friends or Zayn, so they both decided it was best for him to go first. He’d been steady-handed and determined, remarkably not distracted by the fact that Louis’ dick was inches away from his mouth, and tattooed a tiny “H” into his inner thigh in under five minutes.

He can’t really describe the experience in any way that will do it justice. The boy he’s been in love with since he was eighteen inked his initial into his skin. It’s permanent, and as cheesy as it sounds that’s one of the best ways he knows how to describe him and Harry. Permanent.

“Are you ready, Lou?” Harry’s voice cuts through his thoughts. He’s sitting on the bed next to Louis, biting his lip hopefully as he traces his fingers over where his own tattoo will go.

“You sure you want this, H?”

Harry looks offended at the mere suggestion he wouldn’t. “Of course I bloody want this, you knob. I did you, now you do me.”

Louis laughs and nods, slipping off the mattress and onto the chair they placed next to the bed and spreading Harry’s legs apart. Harry wiggles around a little and lies back with his arms folded under his head.

Louis picks up the tattoo gun and takes a few steadying breaths. He really doesn’t want to fuck this up. Harry would still love him even if he tattooed a dick into his thigh -- maybe even more, knowing his great love for penis jokes -- but this is a Big Deal. He’s going to permanently brand his boy with his name. It’s amazing and wonderful and absolutely terrifying.

He dips the sanitized gun in the ink and pulls Harry’s shaved skin taut with his other hand. He brings the gun up against his inner thigh and presses his foot down on the pedal to start the machine.

Harry gasps at the first pinch of pain and whimpers softly. Louis doesn’t chance looking up, but he knows what look Harry probably has on his face right now: complete and utter bliss. Harry has always connected with getting tattoos on a level Louis could never quite grasp. He’s gone with him for a few of them (secretly of course, although how the internet managed to recognize his shoes of all things in that Instagram picture is beyond him) and been completely bowled over by Harry’s reactions. Harry’s eyes will get glassy and unfocused, his face flushed and dark while he bites harshly at his lip and tries not to whimper. He gets off on it.

Louis was a little perturbed the first time he witnessed it, jealous that someone other than him gets to see Harry like that in any form, but he’s learned to love it as time has gone on. It’s just kind of a Harry thing, getting off on the pain.

They’re alone now though, so Harry can be as loud as he wants about it. Louis miraculously keeps his hand steady as Harry cries out loudly beneath him. His cock is inches from his face, growing thicker with each passing second. He’d already been half hard when he started, but Louis is starting to think it’s going to be a scramble to get him cleaned and bandaged after this before Harry jumps him.

He finishes the L quickly, the dark black ink contrasting beautifully with the pale skin of his inner thigh. Louis wipes the excess ink off and starts in on the second part -- a cheesy heart surrounding the L that Harry had insisted on. He dips the pen in the ink again and goes to work, trying hard not to make the heart horribly misshapen.

“Louis,” Harry whimpers. “Louis, Louis, Louis. Love you so much, Lou, love you, love you, love you.”

Louis wants to respond, but also he doesn’t want to divert his attention until he’s completely done. He connects the heart at the top and takes his foot off the pedal. He wipes the ink away and sits back to look at his work. It’s not neat or perfect, but it’s there and it’s Louis’. Louis did this.

He shakes himself from his thoughts quickly and puts cream over it, hurrying to grab the bandages. Harry sits up in the meantime and looks down at his thigh eagerly.

“Fuck,” is all he can say.

“Yeah,” Louis replies. “I know.” He applies the bandage and secures it tightly, sitting back in his chair afterwards and exhaling heavily.

Harry spreads his thighs and runs his hand along the outside of the bandage.

“You’re on my skin,” he murmurs.

Louis gives a pointed look to the other tattoos that already cover him. “I already kinda was, babe.”

Harry shakes his head and frowns. “No, this is different. No one’s going to see this but us. Well. Maybe the boys on the bus, but. This is ours.” He shoots Louis a sly grin and starts humming along to one of their songs. “Your secret tattoo, the way you change moods…” Oh god. He’s awful. Louis just got the initial of an idiot tattooed on his thigh. He loves him.

Louis groans and climbs onto the bed beside Harry. “You’re terrible.” He leans down to give Harry a kiss, pulling back after a second to look at his eyes. They’re still hazy and unfocused. Good. He runs his hand down his chest and over his belly, resting his palm inches away from his crotch.

He closes his eyes and nuzzles his nose into Louis’ shoulder as he eventually cups Harry over the material of his skimpy briefs. Harry pants into his skin and lifts his head to start sucking a mark into Louis’ neck, soothing the pain away with swipes of his tongue.

“I want you,” Harry whispers.

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “Me too.” Louis pushes Harry back onto the bed and slides his underwear down his long, long legs. He runs his hands over his skin, up to this thighs, and then swipes his thumb lightly over the bandage. Harry whines and spreads his legs apart, arching into the contact desperately. Louis stands to shuck his pants off and grab the lube from their nightstand. He climbs over Harry and kisses him, sucking his tongue into his mouth and swallowing his moans.

He holds himself up with one hand and pours lube over Harry’s cock, spreading it around messily and then using the excess on himself. He lines their dicks up in his fist and starts to thrust gingerly, sliding his cock against Harry’s.

“Oh fuck,” Harry whines. “More.”

Louis’ arm is shaking with the ache of keeping his body lifted above Harry’s, but he ignores it and keeps pumping faster, catching the head of Harry’s cock against his own with every pass. He starts jerking his fist along with every movement, keeping them firmly pressed together.

It doesn’t take much to finish Harry off, really. Louis looks down at the bandage and moans at the knowledge of what’s under there, what he did to him. He can’t wait to get his mouth on it when it’s finally healed. He tells Harry as much.

“When you’re healed I’m going to spend hours sucking bruises into your thighs. I’m gonna lick and bite and suck at that tattoo until you’re begging me to stop, sweetheart.”

Harry gasps and cries out, latching one of his hands onto Louis’ straining bicep as he comes. Louis’ fist is wet with it, making their movements even messier than before. It only takes a few more pumps of his hips until Louis is coming too, mixing his come with the mess already on Harry’s belly.

He falls against the other boy and breathes into his neck weakly, feeling light-headed and achey.

Harry, surprisingly, comes to his wits first. He runs his hand down Louis’ body and dances his fingertips in between his legs and over Louis’ bandage.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “And I’m yours.”

Louis smiles into his skin in pleasure. He didn’t need a tattoo to prove it, but fuck if it doesn’t feel satisfying. He really, really loves his boy. Permanently.

V. Los Angeles, 2015. Lazy Morning.

Harry has this very unfortunate habit -- a habit some people would term creepy -- of watching his fiancé while he sleeps. He doesn’t mean to be all Edward Cullen about it, it’s just. Louis is really pretty. The prettiest boy he’s ever met. And that’s including Zayn.

When he sleeps, though, that’s when he’s at his prettiest. His face is clear of all of the day’s worries, caught up in whatever dream he’s having. He often smiles while he sleeps; Harry asked him once what he dreamed about, but Louis just played it coy and teased that he’ll never tell. From the twinkle in his eye, however, he thinks they might be about him.

He makes cute sounds too, like a baby animal. He’ll scrunch his nose and let out a soft muted whimper while breathes and it shouldn’t be as cute as it is (but it’s Louis so everything is cute).

His absolute Favorite Thing, though, the reason he’ll sit for half an hour just watching Louis sleep, are his eyelashes. He gets the pleasure of having an unmitigated view of them resting against Louis’ cheek, long and fluttery and lovely.

Harry lays in bed, arms cradled around Louis who’s resting with his face tucked into his neck. Harry fell asleep as the little spoon and woke up with Louis cradled in his arms. Sometimes he falls asleep as the big spoon and wakes up with Louis wrapped around him from behind like a koala. It’s one of his favorite things about sleeping with Louis. One of them is always being held.

Louis wakes up gradually. Harry knows his cues by now. First comes a hitch of breath, then a sniffle, then a yawn, and finally Louis’ eyelashes flutter open. He blinks them slowly to clear the sleep fog from his eyes and then looks up at Harry sweetly.

“You weren’t counting my eyelashes again, were you?” he asks, voice raspy from sleep.

“I got to 113 this time,” Harry teases.

Louis giggles and nuzzles his head into his shoulder. “You’re so creepy, Styles.”

Harry shrugs without an ounce of shame. “You’re too beautiful for me not to be.”

Louis rolls his eyes and sits up, but Harry can see the light flush of red against his cheekbones. He’s about to get out of bed, presumably to brush his teeth, but Harry frowns and pulls him back, cuddling himself against his chest. “Stay.”

“Don’t you want me to kiss you with minty fresh breath, pet?” Harry wiggles happily at the name.

“I don’t care,” he mumbles into his skin.

“Well I do,” Louis laughs. “Get your lazy bum up, we can have a lie-in and cuddle after our mouths don’t smell like arse.”

Harry smirks dirtily. “Arse? I wonder.”

Louis groans and pushes him away. “You’re disgusting. I’m disgusted. Leave.”

Harry giggles but finally gets up with Louis to brush his teeth. They make faces at each other in the mirror until Harry accidentally stabs himself near his eye with his toothbrush. He’s a bit more reserved after that.

Louis reaches for his shaving gel after he’s finished with his teeth, but Harry pouts and drags him away to the bed. “No shaving. Like having your beard burn on my skin. Makes me feel sexy,” he whispers conspiratorially.

“Such a dork,” Louis mumbles. “Fiiiiiine. Let’s cuddle, you limpet.”

Louis crawls in bed first, sitting up against the headboard. Harry seizes his chance and climbs excitedly into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and nuzzling into him like a kitten. Harry’s not that big, really. Most of his height is due to the artful inclusion of heeled shoes into his wardrobe. He still has a few inches on Louis, however, so sometimes he wants nothing more than to box himself in and make himself Louis’ size again, like he was during the X-Factor.

“Darling,” Louis murmurs affectionately. “So sweet this morning.”

Harry shrugs and holds Louis closer. If he had a choice, he’d be this close to Louis always. He read this horror story once where two people were sewn together by the arms. He thinks that wouldn’t be so bad with Louis. More like a romance, actually. (He worries about himself sometimes.)

They just kind of...sit there, holding each other. Harry is proud to say they’ve spent much of their break this year like this. For once in their careers, they’ve managed to take an actual extended vacation, free from any and all work commitments or scheduled appearances. They’ve spent most of their time bed, to be honest. Harry feels a bit like he’s floating on a cloud every time he wakes up with Louis. He’s with his boy in their home, just...being. It’s lovely.

“I love this,” Harry whispers. “I love you.”

Louis places kisses along the line of Harry’s jaw, ending the trail at his mouth. He places a small peck on his lips and leans back, sighing. “Love you the most.” Harry very nearly purrs. “What do you want to do today, love?”

Harry bites his lip and thinks it over. “How about we…stay in bed.”

Louis laughs and runs his fingers down the knobs in Harry’s spine. “You’ve said that everyday so far, H. I’ve had to drag you out of bed each time.”

“All the more reason to actually stay in bed this time,” Harry pouts. He pulls out his trump card and wiggles his arse around on Louis’ lap. “Don’t you want to stay with meeee?” he sings.

Louis groans and palms one of Harry’s cheeks. “You drive a hard bargain, Styles. Aren’t you sore?”

Yes. Harry is very sore from the previous night’s events. Louis had fucked him hard and dirty into the mattress and it was great. He wants it different today, though.

“Little bit sore,” he admits. “That’s why I wanna take it slow today.”

Louis scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion. “You just want to kiss then?”

Harry sighs and shakes his head. Maybe actions are better than words. He keeps one arm looped around Louis’ neck and leans to the left to reach at the nightstand. Thankfully for him, they’d tossed the lube up there instead of on the floor last night.

He straightens back up in Louis’ lap and reaches for one of his hands. He squeezes the bottle onto Louis’ fingers and slicks them up himself, sliding the cold liquid around until each finger is coated. Then he draws Louis’ hand back and leads it down to his arse. “Slow,” he says.

Louis squints and nods like he thinks he’s got it. “Slow.”

He definitely got it. He works him open slowly, one digit at a time, pumping his fingers in and out like he has all the time in the world. When he’s up to three fingers, stretching him open gradually with every push of his hand, Harry whines softly and noses at Louis’ chin. He hedges around his face, lingering for a kiss that Louis finally gives him. It’s sweet but hot and loving but dirty and everything about their relationship thrown into a kiss. God, he loves him.

When Louis finally deems him ready enough he pulls his fingers out and rubs them along the cleft of Harry’s arse. “Get me ready, baby.”

Harry shudders out a breath and nods, reaching for the bottle again and slicking up Louis’ cock. He supports himself on shaky knees while Louis grabs his dick and presses the blunt head of it at his entrance.

Ever so slowly, Harry brings himself down, down, down, breathing deeply into Louis’ neck until he’s seated completely in Louis’ lap.

Sometimes Harry just has to breathe when Louis is inside him, because Louis is inside of him. They’re connected in every important way: heart, soul, mind, cock. It’s indescribable.

He pulls back so he can watch Louis’ face while he rides him. He’s always so open like this, every emotion playing out on his face. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open, breathing labored breaths while his eyelashes flutter against his skin. Harry raises himself up a few inches and then slides back down smoothly, punctuating the movement with a swivel of his hips that slides the tip of Louis’ cock over his prostate. He sighs out in pleasure and repeats his lethargic movements while he moves one hand to cup Louis’ cheek.

Louis blinks his eyes open and smiles softly at Harry, sliding his hands down to rest on his hips, gently cupping the soft swell of his love handles. Harry has learned to accept them, seeing as Louis adores them so unabashedly.

“Did you know I love you?” Harry breathes.

Louis giggles and kisses Harry’s nose. “No way. Did you know that I adore you, you sleep stalker?”

“Had an idea, yeah,” Harry teases.

Harry rides him slowly and lovingly, never letting things slip into the frantic, hurried state of most of their couplings. He loves every kind of sex with Louis, but this kind is always near the top.

Somewhere along the line, when their breaths start to become uneven and their heart rates start to speed up, Louis slides his hand around Harry’s belly to loosely pump Harry’s cock in his fist. After only a few more bounces of Harry’s hips, Louis spills inside of him with a loud groan, burying his face in Harry’s chest. His fist tightens around Harry’s cock and Harry whimpers, coming quickly and leaking all over Louis’ fist.

They stay connected like that for awhile, just breathing each other in while they settle down. Finally, nose wrinkling at the come drying on his skin, Harry eases himself off Louis’ sensitive cock and flops down on the bed beside him.

“That was nice,” he sighs. Louis hums in response and scooches down to line himself along Harry’s side.

“Maybe we should stay in bed all day,” Louis whispers. Harry crows quietly in triumph and wraps his arms Louis’ body to hold him closer. They can shower later, but now he wants to rest with his boy. He has all the time in the world.

VI. London Home, 2012. Exhibitionism.

Harry didn’t expect to spend his morning doing a phone interview while Louis has three fingers buried in his arse, but that’s just how his life goes, it seems.

He woke up thirty minutes before the interview and took a wee and brushed his teeth before slipping back into bed to cuddle with a sleepy Louis. Five minutes before he needed to call in, Harry motioned to get up to walk into another room so Louis could go back to sleep, but instead he’d pulled him back into bed with a deceptively innocent face.

“Just want to cuddle you while you’re on the phone, babe. Don’t mind the noise,” Louis had said. You’d think that after years with his boyfriend, Harry would know by now to sense when Louis is up to something. But he didn’t.

He called into the station and was put on hold for a few minutes so the host could transition from the last played song to his bit. While he waited, Louis placed small comforting kisses on his chest. Harry smiled down at him and stroked his feathery bed head, blowing him a kiss.

Minutes into the interview, however, things took a turn. While he was discussing the recent end of their tour, Louis moved fast and pressed his hand down between Harry’s legs to rub against Harry’s entrance. Harry gasped loudly and managed to cover it somehow with a strangled cough; Louis, the dick, sent him a sweet smile and raised a finger to his lips to tell him to keep quiet.

So now he’s here. Ten minutes into the worst interview of his life -- the interviewer probably thinks he’s the worst kind of prat because his answers are weak and simple, but Harry can’t help it. Louis’ fingers are pressed firmly against his prostate, circling mercilessly over and over and over. Harry shoots Louis the dirtiest look he can muster, but Louis just grins impishly and moves down the bed. He pushes Harry’s knees up so that his legs are bent with his feet pressed flat against the mattress, spreading them as far apart as Harry can stretch so he can settle in the middle.

“So, Harry,” the interviewer begins. “Have you had any luck with the ladies lately? I read in this magazine…” Harry stops listening as soon as Louis, overhearing the conversation, narrows his eyes and withdraws his fingers, slamming them back in directly at his prostate. A breath is punched straight from Harry’s stomach as he struggles not to moan. Instead he lets out a wavering hiss that’s louder than it intended.

“Harry, buddy, are you okay?” the man asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry stammers. “I, uh, tripped over something and banged my shin. Clumsy me,” he laughs weakly. “Can you, um, repeat…the question?”

Louis smirks and trails his free hand over Harry’s torso, trailing feather light touches all over his abdomen. He feels like he has butterflies in his stomach.

“Sure, sure. I was just asking about how things are on the romantic front?”

Harry looks down at Louis and gives a small smile. Things are really brilliant on that front, actually. He can’t exactly say that, however. Rumors and all. So he’ll have to be sneaky.

“Things are the same as ever, man.” True. Two years strong. “Not seeing anyone at the moment.” Also kind of true. Louis and Harry are less “seeing each other” than “metaphysically connected at the heart and soul.”

Louis leans down and suckles at his favorite spot on Harry’s thigh and all thoughts of metaphysics and souls fly out the window. He squeezes his eyes closed and reaches a hand down to fist in Louis’ hair.

The interviewer starts rambling about something that’s definitely less important than the way Louis is watching his fingers thrust in and out of his body. He tunes him out and just watches Louis. He’s so cute when he’s determined and focused like this that he can almost forgive him for using that determination and focus to make him come on live radio. Louis glances up at him and just stares darkly while he fucks into him.

“Like this?” he mouths. Harry hesitates but nods. If he’s honest, he really, really does. He’s always had a bit of a…thing for exhibitionism, but they’re not often able to take the risk and explore it. This is safe, though, as long as Harry doesn’t shout Louis’ name on the radio. He tries to ignore the twinge of arousal that thought brings him.

Louis is single-minded in his quest to bring him off; he’s not even rutting against the bedsheets to try and give himself any relief for the aching erection Harry can see in between his thighs. He rests his cheek against Harry’s thigh and presses kisses on his knee while he pulls out and slams his fingers back in.

Harry chokes and sputters but tries to cover it with a cough.

“Excuse me,” he blurts. “Sorry, my hayfever is a bit out of control at the moment.”

“No problem, man,” the interview assures him. “Now, your new album Take Me Home is coming out in November, Harry. Can you tell us anything about your sound?”

Louis twists his fingers inside of him and starts using corkscrew motions to push against his prostate. Harry will be lucky if he lasts another few minutes at this rate.

He tries to scramble and think of the bits of media training he’s had about the album. He pulls the phone away quickly and muffles a moan against the pillow as one pump of Louis’ fingers hits him at a particularly devastating angle.

He raises the phone to his ear and rattles off a few predictable answers. “Yeah, um. The album is a bit more mature than Up All Night--” Louis snickers in between his thighs. “-- but it’s still the same One Direction, just a little more rocky, I guess.”

“Excellent,” the interview comments. “Well it was lovely speaking to you, Harry.”

“You too,” Harry squeaks. Louis’ fingers are moving so fast now that there’s a wet sucking sound that fills the room with every pump of his hand. It rattles around his head loudly and he wonders vaguely if they can hear it on the other end. If everyone listening can hear him getting fingered. Christ.

“Would you like to lead us into your new single?”

“Yes! This is, uh, ‘Live While We’re Young,’ and I hope you all enjoy it! Bye!” Harry swipes out of the call abruptly and throws his iPhone at the floor. He’s broken at least five of them in Louis-related accidents.

“I hate you,” Harry whines.

“Mmm,” Louis hums. “You love me.” He moves his other hand up to just gently trail along the length of Harry’s cock. After everything that’s happened, that’s all he needs. Every muscle in his body pulls taut while his hole clenches around Louis and he comes with a scream.

Louis keeps thrusting softly, helping him ride out his orgasm until the sensation is too much and Harry has to twist away, pushing at his shoulder.

“That was the worst interview you’ve ever given,” Louis whispers into his skin. “I loved it.”

VII. Tour Bus, 2013. Quickie.

It’s been twenty minutes and Louis is still in the bathroom. Harry is starting to become concerned.

Just as he’s about to get up and check, Niall calls his name from the front of the bus. He ambles over after shooting one last glance at the bathroom door.

“We’re all stopping to pick up some food to bring back, H, do you and Lou want to come?” Niall asks.

“I think we’ll stay here,” Harry says. It’ll give him a chance to check on Louis. “Bring us something back, though? Salad for me, burger for him?”

“Sure thing, bro.” Niall brings his fist up for the mandatory fist-bump he’s recently implemented into his greetings. Harry can’t say he understands it, but he indulges him anyway. Niall seems to enjoy it. That’s all that matters.

When Niall hops off the bus, closing the door behind him and leaving Harry and Louis alone, he makes his way back near the bathroom and knocks on the door.

“Babe?” he asks hesitantly. “Are you sick? Do you need me to fetch you some medicine?”

It’s silent for a moment, and Harry is about to panic and break the door open, but then the door clicks and Louis opens it, giving him an inexplicably dirty smirk. His face is flushed and he looks like he’s been sweaty and he’s also gripping a bottle of lube, which --.

“They gone?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, babe. What’s going on?”

“Sit on the couch,” Louis orders. Harry stumbles over and takes a seat, watching Louis suspiciously. Louis stalks over to him with a pip in his step, brandishing the bottle of lube like a weapon. “We have maybe thirty minutes. Sex.”

Harry just watches, open-mouthed, as Louis peels off all of his clothing and kicks it away from him on the floor. He’s naked, cock thick and hard, bobbing just a foot away from his face. After a delayed reaction, Harry shucks his clothes off eagerly, tossing them on top of Louis’. He starts to turn around to lay on his stomach so Louis can open him up, but Louis stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“What do you think I was doing in the bathroom, you git? Fingered myself open and everything to prepare for this. I’m riding you,” Louis stresses.

Harry’s beginning to feel like a bit of an idiot with all of these awed looks he’s giving Louis, but he reacts quickly this time at least, scrambling back up and sitting with his legs spread and back against the cushion. Louis gives him a sunny smile and climbs on top of him. He pops the cap on the lube and pours it messily over his cock. Harry prays nothing gets on the couch because he has no idea how he’ll explain that to the lads. Louis wastes no time in pleasantries; he slicks Harry up quickly with two pumps of his fist and then lines his tip up with his arse. He breathes deep and then sinks down slowly, inching his way down until his cheeks rest on Harry’s thighs.

Harry groans and tucks his forehead against Louis’ chest at the tight sensation. He loves getting fucked more than anything, but sometimes it’s just really nice to be in Louis’ arse. Godlike, even.

“Hey, none of that,” Louis reprimands. “We’ve got about twenty-five minutes, Styles. Maybe nineteen if you include clean-up time. Nineteen minutes to make me come.”

Louis phrases it like it’s a challenge, but Harry knows better than that. Harry isn’t the one that’s going to be doing the work here. When Louis rides him, it’s like he becomes possessed with the spirit of a bull rider.

Louis raises himself up on his knees, sliding up and almost off of Harry’s cock, and then sinks back down suddenly, startling a gasp from both of them. He’s so unbearably tight around him, squeezing every inch of his cock with indescribable pressure. It’s a miracle Harry hasn’t shot off already, but he’d never hear the end of it if he did.

Louis takes the reins -- of course he does -- and rests his hands on Harry’s shoulders as he bobs rhythmically on Harry’s cock. He leans in for a filthy kiss, shoving his tongue unceremoniously in Harry’s mouth and twisting it with his own, getting his mouth spit-slick and messy. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on Harry’s and just pants little puffs of breath into his gaping mouth.

“Fuck, you feel good, babe. Love this don’t you?” Louis asks. He has a thing for dirty talk that has steadily driven him crazy over the course of three years, but their sex life wouldn’t be the same without it. He just has a dirty mouth. In more ways than one.

When Louis is on top of him like this, measuring his pace and controlling every twitch of his movements, he usually builds Harry up in cycles. Even with their limited time, today is no exception. He fucks himself wildly on his cock until Harry is sure he’s going to explode, but then he stops completely, shooting Harry a teasing grin. Harry whines and grips the small of Louis’ back in his big hands, begging him to move, but Louis stays still, pressing tiny kisses along Harry’s collarbones until he reaches the dip of his throat. He bites at his neck, sucking bruises into his skin that Lou will have to cover up with her heavy-duty concealer later. Bruises that’ll be noticeable if he posts a conveniently lighted Instagram picture of himself. Things to ponder later, he thinks.

“Louis, please, we have to hurry like you said,” Harry whines.

“Mmm, maybe we should let the boys find us,” Louis murmurs into his skin. “It’s so fun winding you up. I know you secretly love it when they catch us like this. You get that cute little blush on your face, but your dick always gets that much harder. My little exhibitionist,” he coos.

Please,” he begs.

Louis gives an exaggerated sigh. “Fiiiiine,” he drawls. If Harry expected him to pick up where he left off, then he was sorely mistaken. Louis keeps himself impaled on Harry’s cock and grinds. He’s aiming the swivels of his hips so that the head of his dick will hit his prostate continuously, all while he rubs his length against Harry’s belly. It’s needy and hot and greedy, but Harry knows he doesn’t do this to be selfish. Louis knows above all things that Harry gets off the most on getting Louis off. He was built to make Louis come.

Louis watches him through glassy eyes as he falls apart. His mouth falls open as he gasps and writhes and whimpers, murmuring Harry’s name in a low chant. Harry pulls him closer so that his cock gets the most friction it can against his stomach, the head of it rubbing against the top of the butterfly. Harry holds Louis’ hips in his hands and thrusts up when Louis gets tired, bouncing him jerkily on his cock until Louis is shaking with pleasure.

When he comes, his entire body shakes and writhes, his eyes clamped shut as he spills all over Harry’s butterfly, whining his name into Harry’s mouth.

All Harry needs are two more pumps of his cock inside his clenching body, thrusts that rip tortured groans from Louis, and then he empties himself while he’s buried deep inside.

Harry chances a glance at the wall clock across from him while he hugs Louis against his body and breathes. He lights up. “That only took nine minutes, even with you stopping in the middle. I’m so good,” he brags weakly.

Louis thumps his fist against Harry’s chest and groans. He eases himself off Harry’s sensitive cock slowly and stands on wobbly legs. “Regular sex god you are, darling.”

Harry grins happily but it’s wiped clean when he glances down at his stomach and thighs.

“You had the presence of mind to grab lube but not a condom,” Harry grumbles, wrinkling his nose at the mess of come and sweat on his body. Luckily, the couch seems to have been spared the brunt of their bodily fluids. There’s a tiny speck that’s going to set in and stain soon, but if anyone asks Harry will blame Liam.

“Excuse me for being too horny to function, you arse,” Louis complains. Nonetheless, he walks over to their kitchenette and wets a paper towel to clean Harry up.

“Best boyfriend ever,” Harry mumbles.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis replies, suppressing a smile. “Let’s get you into the bunk, you lump. Useless after an orgasm, you are.”

Harry stands on weak legs and clutches at Louis’ back as he leads him back to their beds. He really is the best boyfriend ever.

VIII. Christmas Eve, 2010. Phone.

It’s Christmas Eve and Harry feels thoroughly rejected. Louis didn’t answer his call on the twitcam and he knows it’s not a big deal -- it’s the day before Christmas, Louis’ birthday, so he must be busy and he already answered his birthday text earlier -- but it’s his first holiday since knowing Louis and he hates that he had to spend it without him. So he’s feeling a little mopey. Also a little pathetic because he’s sitting on his bed wearing a christmas hat, playing around on his slowly dying laptop after giving what he thinks is the most boring twitcam in history.

He sighs and stretches his arms above his head, working out the growing pains plaguing his limbs lately, and then shuts his laptop and places it on his desk. He climbs back in bed -- christmas hat still on his head -- and reaches for his bed lamp, determined to sleep his sadness away.

But then his phone rings.

He’s annoyed for a moment, because he just wants to sleep, but then he catches sight of the name that pops up. Louis. Louis! He swipes to answer as quick as he can.

“Hiiii Lou, happy birthday and happy Christmas!” he says breathlessly.

“Hazzaaaaaaaaaa,” Louis drawls. “My boy! Happy Christmas!” He sounds happy and his voice is slightly garbled.

“Are you drunk?” Harry asks.

Louis snickers on the other end. “Might’ve spiked the eggnog. Mum threw a fit so I wound up drinking most of it meself.”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly while he situates himself against his pillows. “I miss you, Lou,” he whispers.

“I miss you too, baby,” Louis says. His voice is soft, albeit a little slurred. “Wish you were here right now, Haz. I would’ve gotten you proper sloshed on this eggnog.”

Harry giggles and nuzzles his head against the pillow. If he pretends hard enough, he can imagine Louis’ laying next to him in bed, spooning him from behind. A boy can dream.

“I got your present next to my bed.”

“Oooh, what is it?” Louis asks.

“Can’t tell you or it wouldn’t be a surprise, Lewis,” he teases.

Louis hums in response. “I’d like anything you gave me, pet.”

Pet. Louis’ voice is raspy from the alcohol and tiredness and it’s so weirdly sexy to hear him say that. His voice takes on a similar timbre when they’re doing...things. Harry groans silently. He’s lonely and cold and horny and wants nothing more than to hear that voice saying sexy stuff to him before bed. So he takes the plunge.

“I have another gift for you, the next time I see you.”

“What’s that?” Louis questions.

“I want to blow you,” Harry admits. “I’ve been practicing on bananas the past few days and I think I’m getting even better.” Not the sexiest dirty talk, Harry will admit, but it does the trick. Louis groans on the other end and Harry can hear the creak of his bed as he shuffles around.

“I’d love for you to, just wait. God, I keep thinking about your mouth now, Hazza.” His staggered breaths are audible even over the phone. “You know what the best part of your blowjobs are?”


“Just watching you, babe. Your lips get all red and swollen and wet, stretched so big around me.” Harry bites his lip and clenches his eyes shut at the image. “I can see my cock sliding against your cheek when you suck them in, and all I wanna do is press my thumbs over them and feel me fucking your mouth.”

“Lou,” Harry whimpers. “Keep talking.”

“Hmm,” Louis hums. “Love your eyes. They get so watery and green and desperate. And you never close them. Just keep them open while you suck me down so I can see how badly you want it. Fuck, Harry, I want you.”

Harry breathes in deep and lets out a loud exhale as he trails his hand down to his shorts and palms his erection. “What would you do to me if you were here?”

“Well first I’d climb in bed with you and kiss your pretty mouth silly. Miss you lots, babe. But,” he pauses, “before you even touched me, I’d take your cock out and get you off. Jerk you off hard and fast like I know you like it, working my thumb into your slit and rubbing your head. When you finally came, I’d spread it all around your cock and keep jerking you until you couldn’t take it anymore.” Harry can hear a wet sound on the other end, and he knows Louis has gotten his cock out, so he does the same, pushing his shorts down to his knees. When he finally gets a hand on himself, he just holds his dick loosely, feeling the heavy weight of it against his palm. He tries to pretend it’s Louis’ hand as he wraps his fingers in a fist and twists up and down.

“You touching yourself, love? Getting yourself off to my voice like the dirty boy you are?” Louis sounds fucking wrecked, his voice deeper than it’s ever been.

“Yes,” he whines in response. “Wish it was your hand, Louis.”

“Wish it was mine too. Wish I was there, running my mouth over every inch of your skin. You know what I want to do, baby?”

“What?” Harry pants.

“I want to lick you out,” he answers. Fuck. “Remember that time at the house when everyone was asleep? I stuck my fingers in your mouth so you’d be quiet and I fingered you open until you started biting my hand, you were so gone.” Harry remembers the moment well. He came so hard he nearly woke Zayn up with his shouts. It was a tense, silent few minutes while they waited for someone to catch them, but they miraculously got away with it. “Wanna do that too, after I eat you out,” Louis continues. “Want to get you messy and wet for me, licking all over your pretty little arse while you try and rub yourself over my face. You’re so shameless sometimes, baby, I love it. God you’d taste so good, H.”

Harry cries into the phone as he pumps his cock impossibly fast. All he used was spit to get himself wet, so the rough drag is verging on painful, but Harry kind of likes it.

“I can’t wait until I get you properly alone, love. I want you so much,” Louis moans.

“Me too,” Harry whimpers. “I want to -- I want to ride you, I think.” Louis wheezes on the other end and groans, the wet sounds of him jerking off coming even louder now.

“You think or you know? I know I want you to ride me. You’d look so beautiful, baby. Your hot little body on top of me. I want to pinch your hips and play with your nips--,” Louis breaks off to giggle uncontrollably. Surprisingly, it doesn’t dampen the mood. “Sorry. I just want you on top of me, trying to get as much of me as you can. You always make me feel so wanted, baby. I love that.”

“I love you,” Harry whines. “I want you here, now.”

“I know, baby, I know. I love you too. You know what would make me really happy?” His voice is so raspy now, a heady mix of arousal and fatigue and drunkenness and Louis. “I’d love it if you’d come for me. Right now. I want to hear you come.”

Harry sobs into his pillow and squeezes even harder around his cock as he pumps once, twice, three times and then he’s coming; streams of it cover his shirt, soaking it through to his skin. He eases himself through the aftershocks and only whines a little when he hears Louis finish on the other end with a muffled cry of his name.

Harry sniffles and wipes his hand on his shirt as he comes down, waiting for Louis to come back to life and say something on the other end. He doesn’t have to wait long; Louis giggles again and murmurs his name slowly.

“That was...something,” he says.

Harry grins and nods even though Louis can’t see it. “I still miss you, Lou. I don’t expect you to leave your family or anything, but…”

“I’m gonna ask Mum tomorrow if we can come up and visit,” Louis interrupts. “Think the girls would like to come with, too. Our mums can catch up and we can sneak off to your bedroom and make out.”

Harry breathes a sigh of relief and curls himself on his side. “I love you, Louis.”

Louis’ voice is soft on the other end as he replies, “Love you more, sweetheart. Sleep tight.”

IX. Their Home, 2021. Talking.

Louis has just sat down when Harry stumbles in the room and flops onto the bed with a tired groan. They haven’t been sleeping too much lately since Rose has decided the middle of the night is her play time. They’ve been trying to take shifts but both of them are exhausted. The joys of parenthood, Louis notes.

He wonders distantly if he can ask Niall to babysit this weekend so they can have a romantic sleepover in an obscenely fancy hotel with decadent decor and room service. He thinks Harry would like the surprise.

Harry turns his head and gives him a sleepy smile. “She hasn’t slept all day, so I think we have a chance tonight, Lou.”

Louis pets Harry’s hair and smooths an errant strand out of his eyes. “Chance for what, babe?”

With a surprising show of strength, considering his exhausted state, Harry drags Louis so he lays on top of him. “Sex.”

Louis giggles and lifts himself off of Harry to give him a mock-affronted look. “That’s all you want from me, is it? We haven’t even exchanged stories about our day.”

Harry grumbles and wraps his arms around Louis’ neck to pull him in for a kiss. “Talk while we do it, then.” Do it. Sometimes Louis is surprised that Harry is 27.

Louis rolls his eyes but ambles over to grab their nearly full bottle of lube. They haven’t had time for anything other than quick blowjobs in the past week or so. He supposes Harry’s right; if Rose is going to sleep the night, now is a better time than never.

He opens Harry up slowly, gradually, while they talk. Harry had stayed at home that day while Louis had ran around London, shopping and attending a few meetings. Louis had gotten home a little after noon and they’d eaten lunch together quickly before Harry headed out to spend a few hours with Ed, who had just finished the American leg of his tour.

“Just played Legos with him for an hour and watched cartoons,” Harry pants. “Some things never change, I guess.”

Louis laughs and nods, slicking himself up quickly and then pressing inside.

“I’m thinking -- ahh, fuck -- thinking about trying out this new fajita recipe for dinner tomorrow night,” Harry comments, squeezing his eyes shut as Louis bottoms out.

“That’s nice, babe,” Louis replies. “I’m sure they’ll be delicious, just like everything you make.” Harry hums, pleased, and opens his eyes again to give Louis a happy smile. “If they’re really good, maybe you can make them next week for dinner with the lads?”

“Almost forgot about that,” Harry breathes. “Remind me to buy a couple bottles of wine tomorrow.” Louis nods and presses a kiss above Harry’s brow.

They’re quiet for a bit, silent and slow in their movements. Louis had always heard that your sex life goes to hell as soon as you get married or you have children, but he’s come to realize that’s not true. They have to get a bit creative with it, but Louis has strangely come to appreciate occasions like this, where Harry and him can just simply be together. They still have some wild sex when one of their friends or the boys takes Rose for the night, but this is just as good, if not better. Just being inside of Harry, or vice versa, is enough. It’s comforting.

Harry spreads his legs wider and pulls Louis to him so that his cock brushes against Louis’ belly with every thrust. “Oh, babe, did you take the shoes out of the hallway? I don’t want to trip over them when I get up tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, love,” Louis laughs. “Straightened up and everything. Even did the laundry.”

Harry coos excitedly and pecks his mouth. “Thank you, Lou.”

They’re getting into a finely-honed rhythm now, Louis hitting his prostate directly with every few thrusts. At one particularly well-aimed push, Harry gasps loudly and scrambles at Louis’ shoulders. Louis’ smug grin of triumph fades when Harry starts to mumble, “I completely forgot to schedule Rose’s appointment with Doctor Shields, Louis! Nooo,” he moans. “It’s her six month check-up, this is important.”

Louis tries very hard not to laugh at Harry’s expense -- the last thing he wants to do is be condescending when he doesn’t mean to be -- but he loses out against himself and starts to giggle. Harry frowns at him from beneath him.

“I’m sorry, H,” he titters. “Just a bit unexpected in the throes of passion. Tomorrow is a new day, baby. I’ll remind you to call the doctor and to buy the wine and everything will be fine.”

“I guess you’re right,” Harry mumbles. “Thank you.”

They lapse into silence. The only sound in the room are their pants, loud and breathy as they move together in sync. Louis trails his eyes over Harry’s body and takes him in; he’s breathtaking like this, pale and flushed in the muted lighting, a thin sheen of sweat over his body. All of this time together, and he’s still just as enamoured with this boy as he was ten years ago.

“I love you,” he whispers. He doesn’t know if it was his words that caused it, or just the natural build up of their actions, but Harry throws his head back and gives a silent cry as he comes untouched onto his belly.

The tight heat of Harry around his cock is too much; Louis spills inside of him with a grunt, riding out his orgasm with slow punches of his hips that drag small whimpers from Harry’s lips.

After a few minutes of rest, Louis stumbles to his feet to grab a damp flannel from the bathroom to clean themselves up. He rubs the cloth over Harry’s skin delicately while Harry’s breathing evens out and his eyes clear from the post-orgasm fog. Harry reaches up to run his fingers through Louis’ hair. After he grew it out all those years ago to match Harry in that stupid hair bet, he found that he rather liked the look. Harry tugs at the strands and pulls him into a sweet kiss.

“I love you too, in case you didn’t catch that,” he jokes.

“Mmm,” Louis murmurs. “Good. Sleep now, darling. I’ll remind you about everything tomorrow.”

“Thanks, babe,” Harry mumbles.

Louis falls asleep minutes later with his hand entwined in Harry’s, their wedding bands pressed together.

X. Jamaica, 2017. Honeymoon.

Louis may be on the beaches of Jamaica but he’s never seen anything more breathtaking than the way his husband looks tonight. Husband. He can say that now. He giggles merrily, drunk off champagne and happiness. Harry squeezes his hand and looks over at him happily while they walk along the shore. It’s nighttime, so the moon shines bright on his features, lighting his face up like it had all those years ago at the bungalow, the first time they kissed.

“What are you giggling about?” Harry asks.

Louis shrugs his shoulders and looks down at his feet, kicking sand with every step. “Was thinkin’ that I can call you my husband now. I like that.”

Harry’s grin could split his face in half if he tried hard enough. Louis can see his blush even the darkness as he swings their arms together and looks away.

He just. He can’t believe it, really, that he’s on his honeymoon with the love of his life. His best friend. His soulmate. It’s been a long seven years with Harry. He still aches a little when he thinks of the hoops they had to jump through for their first few years together, but the Good always outweighed the Bad. And now, fresh off a flight from London, holding his husband’s hand on the prettiest beach in Jamaica, Louis feels like he could burst.

“Husband!” he yells. He pulls Harry to the ocean and walks until his ankles are covered in water. “Harry is my husband!” He’s not sure who he’s yelling at, maybe the little jellyfish in the water or the boats far off in the distance, but it feels so satisfying to scream it out loud.

“Louis!” Harry whispers loudly. “You’ll wake up the people in their condos.” He doesn’t actually sound too cut up at the thought. His eyes are sparkling and love-filled and so, so radiant. Harry hasn’t stopped looking like this since the ceremony.

Everything after the wedding went by in a blur, really — a blur of Harry gazing at him starry-eyed from above his champagne glass, gazing at him starry-eyed while they danced, gazing at him starry-eyed while he fed him cake. Louis would’ve teased him, but he’s pretty sure when they watch the wedding tape later — the first thing they’re doing when they get back home, Harry demands — Louis is going to look even worse. They’re a bunch of soppy idiots. Thank god they have each other.

“Just happy to say it,” Louis says softly. Harry looks positively weepy now (Louis can see the happy tears brimming in his eyes), so he pulls him into a kiss. Harry wraps his arms around Louis and pulls him close and like -- they’re kissing in the ocean, in Jamaica, on their honeymoon. They’re like a fairy tale Louis’ sisters forced him to watch when he was younger. Only better.

“You want to head back?” Louis mumbles against his mouth. “We have to do this wedding night up proper.”

Harry giggles against his lips and nods. They walk back to their villa in silence, giving each other shy, pleased glances every few seconds.

When they finally make it inside, they drink once last glass of champagne they nicked from the reception and smuggled on their private plane, and stumble their way tipsily to the bedroom. Earlier in the night, Louis had sneakily covered the expansive white bed in red rose petals while Harry had been downstairs checking out the food in their refrigerator. Harry gasps at the sight now and claps his hands excitedly.

“Romance!” he squeals.

“Predictable romance,” Louis amends. “But I knew you’d love it.”

They stand by the bed and disrobe each other slowly, each article of clothing pooling at their feet until they’re left naked, the moonlight shining on their bodies through their curtains. Louis trails his fingers over Harry’s tattoo, lingering on his bird, and presses tiny kisses at his throat. Harry stretches his neck and sighs, holding Louis to him with a hand at his nape.

“Bed, bed,” Harry says. “Get on the bed.”

Louis peals the duvet back -- the idea of getting rose petals stuck to his body doesn’t exactly hold a lot of appeal for him -- and gestures for Harry to get in first. Harry climbs in and lays on his side with one hand supporting his head, patting the space next to him for Louis to join.

He climbs in bed next to him and rests his hand on Harry’s hip, running his fingers delicately over the line of his body. Harry’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation and he exhales deeply, letting his breath wash over Louis.

Louis moves his hand down to his crotch, palming his cock in his hand and rubbing down the length leisurely. He circles his thumb around the tip and watches as Harry hardens in his hand. Harry returns the favor and cups Louis, pressing the heel of his hand at the base and rubbing upwards.

Louis leans down to nibble at Harry’s jawline, licking down to his ear and then biting at his neck. Harry whines prettily above him and shifts so that his hand falls away and his back rests against the mattress. He pulls Louis on top of him and lets him kiss his way down to his body, jerking slightly when Louis reaches his dick and suckles at the tip. Harry reaches blindly for the bedstand, straining to open the drawer where Louis preemptively stored their lube -- Harry packed a strawberry flavored one, claiming it was fancier. When he finally grabs the bottle, he presses it urgently into Louis’ hand, demanding action.

Louis squirts the liquid onto his fingers and touches them against Harry’s entrance, circling around it lightly and then pressing the tip of his middle finger inside. They haven’t gone this far in a couple weeks, out of Harry’s insistence that their wedding night be even more “explosive,” so he’s even tighter than he usually is. He stretches around him readily enough, and Louis pumps his finger with ease, adding his pointer finger when Harry gives him a nod.

Harry whimpers and spreads his legs, pushing his arse back into Louis’ hand as he rolls his hips against the bed.

“We’re gonna be doing this for the rest of our lives, H.” He knew this when he was 18, but now everything is set in stone. Just the thought of being with Harry when they’re old and grey is enough to cause the rhythm of his fingers to stutter inside of him. Harry makes a disgruntled noise at Louis and rocks his arse into his hand in protest.

“Even when I’m wrinkly and gross? Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful, Lou?” The fact that Harry is still calm enough to quote song lyrics makes him frown. He must change this; he adds another finger and watches as Harry chokes on whatever words he was going to say and writhes on the bed in pleasure. Good.

He keeps his movements slow and measured, teasing him with every jab of his hand as he nears his prostate but keeps his distance. He brings his other hand up to his nipples and takes turns playing with them until they’re rosy and pebbled.

“Louis,” Harry moans. “Please.”

He gives Harry a few more controlled thrusts of his fingers and then pulls out; he grabs the lube and spreads it over his cock evenly, watching as Harry spreads his thighs out wantonly and gestures for him to hurry up.

When he presses inside for the first time in weeks, he’s pretty sure he sees stars behind his eyes at the staggering sensation of Harry’s body squeezing every inch of him. When he bottoms out, he stays buried inside for a minute just to catch his bearings, listening as Harry takes sharp breaths beneath him. When he finally feels like he’s under control, he presses his lips against Harry’s ear and whispers, “Are you ready husband?”

Harry throws his head back and groans. “Call me your spouse.” Harry is so quirky, honestly.

“Okay, spouse. Are you ready?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Harry hisses. “Go.”

Louis pulls out and then pushes back in achingly slow, drawing a tortured moan from the boy beneath him. He settles on a sluggish pace, pressing in and out in incremental movements while he runs his hands along other parts of Harry’s body. He trails his fingers over his arms and down his chest, rubbing circles into his hipbones while Harry whines quietly beneath him.

Harry opens his eyes and gives him a pleading look; Louis leans down to kiss in between his eyes, down to his nose, and then his lips. He increases his pace and holds Harry steady as he works himself deep and hard inside of him. The friction of being inside of Harry is lighting a fire inside of him, the only way to put it out is by going faster and further. Harry wraps his legs around Louis’ hips and sobs as he pistons in and out; when Harry jerks and screams, he knows he’s hit the swollen gland inside of him that’ll send shockwaves through his body.

He aims for it purposely, swivelling his hips in slightly to the left and up, confident in his movements as Harry digs his nails into his shoulders and whimpers.

Louis shudders and closes his eyes for a moment to keep himself from coming too early, too ruined at the devastating sight of his husband falling apart beneath him. Harry starts mumbling encouragements under his breath, begging for Louis to finish him off. Louis lowers himself so that his belly rubs against Harry’s cock with every push, providing him with the friction he needs while he supports himself on his forearms above him.

“So gorgeous, baby,” he croons. “You’re incredible.” Harry scrunches his face up in pleasure and turns his cheek into the pillow. Louis leans down to suckle at his neck, leaving reddish-purple marks into his pale skin. His thrusts start to unravel, losing rhythm as Harry falls apart beneath him.

During his last good thrust, when his belly drags against Harry’s cock particularly hard, Harry stiffens and shouts, emptying himself onto his stomach while he screams Louis’ name. Louis groans and shivers as Harry clenches impossibly tight around him, plunging himself all the way in and coming in bursts inside Harry’s arse.

As he comes back down to earth, he hears Harry whimpering his name over and over into his ear. He holds himself up on shaky arms and looks down at him with a tired grin. Harry’s eyes are wet and blissed out as he puckers his lips for a kiss.

Later, after they’ve cleaned up and changed the sheets, they wrap each other up with the duvet and just listen to each other’s steady heartbeats.

“Husband,” Harry whispers.

“Spouse,” Louis answers. Harry presses his smile into Louis’ neck.

Will he ever get tired of this? He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he won’t. He’s married to the love of his life, his spouse, his husband, his everything. Life is pretty perfect.