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But I'll Still Take You Home

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There's a boy. There are always boys, and lads, and men, surrounding him when he parties, but this one is… something.

For one, Louis' never seen him before. That's a bit fucked up, seeing as this is his own party in his own flat. For another, he hasn't made a move on Louis. Not that that's unusual, he's not some arsehole who has to be the centre of attention all the time, except for when he is and when there are boys who keep glancing at him coyly with their ridiculously green eyes and bouncy curls but won't actually come chat him up.

It's not like Louis isn't making himself available. He's in his black jeggings and red scoop-neck shirt. Three people have already clapped him on the back and asked if he's trying to pull. Of course he is, it's his last term at uni and he's going out with a bang. He'd quite like to bang this boy, even when he seems more interested in laughing with Niall and smiling at anyone but Louis.

"Who is that?" Louis asks finally, keeping his eyes on him.

Zayn laughs on an exhale. "You mean jailbait over there?"

Louis elbows him hard, nearly making the spliff fall from his lips. "He doesn't look that young."

Okay, he kind of does. His eyes are too big and his smile is too nervous, he looks as innocent and fresh as a Disney character, but. He's tall and his shoulders are broad and he looks like he could use a good time. Louis could show him a good time.

Zayn rolls his eyes. "Remember Gemma, Niall's ex? That's her brother."

Louis doesn't really remember Gemma, and thank god for that. If he did and it turned out she'd mentioned that her fit brother was like, fifteen, Louis would feel really shitty about wanting to pin him down and throw his long legs over his shoulders. Right now he can maintain the illusion the boy is eighteen. And bendy. He resolutely doesn't ask Zayn how old he is. There are more important things. "Think he's straight?"

Zayn laughs again. He's so giggly when he's high, Louis loves him like this. "He's been drooling over at least one of us for twenty minutes, I think you have a shot."

Like he senses they're talking about him, the boy turns his head, making his soft-looking curls flutter majestically over his ears. He gives them one look, catches them both looking back, and then bites his full bottom lip and ducks his head, flustered. He fixes his fringe with alarmingly large hands. It might be the weed talking, but Louis thinks he could just watch his thick hair do things for hours. "Drooling, but no seduction. I wanna touch his hair."


Louis frowns up at him. Zayn is being really unsupportive right now. "Let's get his attention."

Zayn takes a hit with an arched eyebrow. He opens his mouth, probably to ask Louis what the fuck he's on about now, but Louis moves in and sucks the smoke right from between his lips. He lets his eyes drift shut as he inhales deep, barely hears it when Zayn curses him out. Really, Louis can't even resent Niall for keeping the boy's attention; he always has good drugs on him. (It's also physically impossible to resent Niall Horan for any reason.)

He exhales slowly and then leans forward to actually give Zayn an indulgent peck on the lips. Zayn giggles startlingly loud and shoves Louis away, making him splay on the sofa and spread his legs contentedly. When he finally opens his eyes, he has to blink a couple of times to clear his head, and then again when he accidentally locks eyes with the boy right away.

The boy's face is a nice shade of pink that Louis thinks complements his pretty, soft features. Practically anything would complement them though, the boy's beautiful. Louis can't keep his eyes off him, and for once, the boy doesn't seem intent on looking away either. There are a few feet (and people) separating them, but Louis likes to think he's staring at Louis' mouth. He smirks at him, and the boy laughs in response, before covering his mouth quickly. Enough's enough. "I'm going in."

If Zayn has something to say about it, Louis doesn't hear it. He climbs to his feet and maintains careful eye contact with the boy as he makes his way to the small kitchen space. It's empty now, the party far along enough that most of the drinks have migrated to the living room. He hops on the counter and drags the nearly-empty bottle of tequila closer to him while he waits. He tries to drape himself seductively against the wall, but ends up banging his head against the cabinet and cursing.

Of course that's when the boy makes his presence known by laughing. Louis quickly looks to the doorway and clears his throat. At least the pounding pain in his head covers up the delight he feels by the boy following him here. "Hi there, Curly."

He looks less timid like this, not surrounded by people. He's visibly affected by having all of Louis' attention on him, but he braves through it, coming closer to Louis and cocking his hip casually. "Hiya."

Oh, wow. His voice is really, really deep. He can't be that young, can he? Louis smiles at him and gestures for him to come closer. He does. He's even more remarkable up close, lips pink and plump, eyes shiny and expressive. Louis wants to touch him everywhere. "I'm Louis."

The boy smiles upsettingly bright and actually reaches out. "Harry."

"Harold," Louis says very seriously, befitting the very serious handshake he gives him. "How come I've never seen you before?"

Harry doesn't really let go of his hand, sort of keeping it hostage, but Louis' cool with it. Harry's hands are soft and big and quite lovely. "I don't go here," he explains, speaking ten times slower than the average human. "Came to visit my sister for the weekend."

"You go to a different uni, then?"

Harry bites his lip and looks away. He's a shit liar. Louis' too buzzed to panic about it now, chooses instead to be amused by how flustered he sounds when he says, "Yeah, sure."

He's close enough that Louis can kick out and brush his foot against his knee playfully. "Really? What year are you in then?"

"Uh, third," Harry lies.

"So how old does that make you?"

It takes him a second. "Twenty."

Louis arches an eyebrow. No matter how morally dubious that makes him, this boy is not twenty years old. "Bullshit."

Harry pinches his bottom lip between two long fingers. "Nineteen."

Louis just tilts his head. Harry closes his eyes in defeat. His eyelashes are lovely. "Eighteen."

Louis snorts. "What is this, a missile launch?"

Harry giggles. "Seventeen."

That, Louis can believe. Alright, that's not so bad. He's still a teenager, but a fuckable one. Louis hums in approval and hooks his foot behind Harry's knee to pull him closer. Harry stumbles a little, clumsy because he's been drinking or because he's actually a confused woodland animal. Louis doesn't give him shit, since Harry steadies himself by grabbing the cabinet over Louis' head.

Which brings him directly in front of him, caging him in with one arm and glassy eyes. Louis' quick to adjust, spreading his legs and reeling Harry in between them. This close, Harry's just gorgeous. His curls seem to be artfully dishevelled over his forehead, and his mouth is hanging open when he checks Louis out in return. So Louis indulges, lets his eyes run over his broad shoulders and tight stomach, almost visible under the white tank top he's got on. He's got a blazer over it, and he's wearing chinos, outrageously enough. They don't fit as snugly as jeans but they make his bulge more pronounced. Louis will start there, he thinks. Rub up against him a little. Make him squirm.

He blinks back up at him and finds Harry blushing violently. Louis smirks and runs a hand over his blazer. "Seventeen and drinking?"

Harry smiles at him charmingly and waves his beer under his nose. Louis realises his strategy for the night has been all wrong – he should've flocked to Harry as soon as he'd seen him. "I'm kind of a bad boy, you see. From the wrong side of the tracks."

Louis can't help but smile back. Snow White is giving him lip. "Are you now?"

"Most mixed up non-delinquent on the block," Harry deadpans, grin splitting his face.

Louis unconsciously tightens his legs around Harry's waist. "You're a beauty school drop-out?"

"I ain't nothing but a hound dog," he corrects.

Jesus Christ, Louis wasn't ready for Grease references. He was ready for anything but Grease references. The flirting was going so well, but now Louis wants to either fuck this boy six ways to Sunday or feed him pizza and sit him down for movie marathons. "You think I'm into bad boys, then?"

Harry slowly lowers his arm from the cabinet to Louis' leg. He doesn't grab his thigh, more of a gentle sweep, but it's enough to make his point. "Counting on it."

"You should probably put that beer down and do a proper shot, then." He picks up the tequila bottle.

Harry quickly does as Louis said, but after the first part he's stuck looking around the counter Louis' perching on. "I think all the shot glasses are outside."

It's not exactly true, Louis can spot a couple right behind Harry, but he's not intent on letting Harry slip out from between his legs. He's got a better idea, anyway. "What's a bad boy to do, then?" he asks, keeping Harry guessing for a second before he yanks off his T-shirt and flings it somewhere over Harry's shoulder.

The way Harry ogles him makes Louis wonder if he's ever seen a grown man half-naked before, or if all the working out Louis' been doing for the footie match is paying off. Either way, Harry's eyes are piercing his torso and his mouth is slack again and Louis' quite smug. He lays himself out sideways on the counter so he can rest on his back, and then holds the bottle out for Harry.

Harry still doesn't seem to be following. Louis uncaps the bottle for him and sucks his tummy in. "Suppose they don't do body shots in this other uni you go to?"

"Not off insanely fit uni boys," Harry mumbles, mostly to himself, and looks at his face suddenly when Louis starts laughing. Insanely fit, he can work with that.

Harry seems to finally get past the shirtless situation. He rubs his hands together and comes closer. "Right. Salt?"

Louis smiles for his cooperation. "Shelf behind you."

It looks physically painful for Harry to look away from Louis, but he does, and it only takes him the one step to reach the other side of the room because his legs are bloody long and he's bloody tall and Louis' practically lying underneath him. There are always boys and lads and men, but Louis doesn't usually get this worked up before even being touched. The fact he's topless makes it painfully obvious, too, he only needs to look down and see his chest heaving a little.

Harry comes back and he's still wide-eyed and flustered, but he's on a mission now, raking his eyes over Louis' body before deciding to sprinkle the salt over his collarbones. He finally takes the bottle, all ready, but still he waits for Louis to give him an encouraging little smile. He ducks down and Louis actually stops breathing when he feels his tongue on him. He's been pretty drunk since before people started coming in, and pretty horny since he laid eyes on Harry, and now there's a wet tongue on his skin and Louis struggles to keep his hands by his sides.

He keeps focusing on weird things, like how nice it feels when Harry's hair brushes his chin, and how Harry isn't even licking up the salt, he's just trailing slick lines over Louis' chest tattoos. When Harry finally pours the tequila on his abs and sucks it out of his belly button, Louis' hips jump, already half-hard and gasping. The last time he did this he was pissed out of his mind, with Niall pouring half a bottle of vodka all over him and Zayn screaming "you drink it, you drink it, you drink it!" in the background. Needless to say, it was nothing like this.

He assumes Harry finishes up the shot, or maybe he's as distracted as Louis is. Either way, he licks up Louis' stomach and chest and then lifts his head right over Louis' face, automatically going for a lime. Only, Louis doesn't have anything between his teeth. So he surges up and kisses Harry instead.

Harry makes a surprised little sound but he settles into it fast, spreading his soft lips and licking into Louis' mouth to share the last drops of tequila. Louis sucks them right off his tongue and then scrapes it with his teeth, kissing him hard and definitely not as sweet as he deserves. Not that Harry's complaining. He bites Louis' lips right back and draws Louis' hands to his own hair.

The angle's all fucked with Louis lying down sideways, so he tugs on his hair (hears Harry gasp softly, loses his mind, tugs just a bit harder) to push him back while still keeping their mouths attached. Once he's upright he – well, he bangs his head on the fucking cabinet again, but then he wraps his legs around Harry's waist and leans in to kiss him deeper.

Harry just melts into him, keeps making these helpless little noises and letting Louis fuck into his mouth with his tongue. Louis' lightheaded with it, tightens his legs around Harry until, finally, his big hands land on Louis' bare hips and squeeze hard. Louis yanks on his hair in return. Harry moans.

Louis has to break the kiss before he passes out, which leaves Harry panting against his lips and digging his thumbs under his waistband. Louis wants to drink him in, or say something dirty, but the need to keep touching him pretty much overrides anything. He nuzzles down Harry's jaw and tugs on his shirt collar with his teeth until the juncture between his neck and shoulder is exposed enough for his liking. Then Louis latches his mouth there and sucks hard, digging his teeth in just sharply enough for Harry to shove his hips forward and rub his painfully obvious hard-on against Louis' thigh.

"Fuck," Harry hisses, his voice dropping an octave, unbelievably enough. Louis only sucks harder, pressing his tongue to the marked skin and making Harry scratch Louis' hips. He lets go of Harry's hair with one hand and fits it on his lower back, under his tank top. The next time Harry scratches him he scratches back, and Harry's hold on him is so strong it forces him to shift so their cocks line up together. Fuck.

"Bedroom," he decides, unwrapping his legs and releasing Harry. He laughs when Harry whines and buries his face in Louis' neck. "Harold, I'm not some slag you fuck in the kitchen. It's just upstairs."

Harry lifts his head just to pout at him. "Will you put your shirt back on?"

Louis shoves him back so he can jump back to the floor. He stretches to pop the kinks out of his back. Not at all to watch Harry watch him move. "Nah. These people have seen me covered in cake."


God, bedroom. Louis takes Harry's hand and leads him outside, not sparing anyone even a glance before he's bounding up the stairs with Harry in tow. Even with the door shut behind them, they can still hear the noise from the party, but Zayn was in charge of the playlist so it's humping music anyway – The 20/20 Experience and AM.

They have privacy now, though. Louis turns on the desk lamp and unzips his jeggings quickly, peeling them off along with his briefs. When he's back on two feet he looks up, fully expecting to see Harry naked and waiting, but instead Harry's frozen in place and staring at Louis hungrily. Which is hot in itself, but Louis would really like to see his dick now. He spreads his arms and beckons Harry closer.

As soon as Harry kisses him, Louis pushes him up against the door and unzips his chinos, so at least he's not rubbing up against a zipper painfully. His hand is right there, though. He might as well cup Harry over his briefs and press the heel of his hand down. Christ, he's rock hard and feels big in his hand, heavy and perfect. He's back to making sounds, too, throaty and choked-off when Louis gropes him. He pushes up against his fist but there's really no place to go, he's trapped between the door and Louis. They probably realise it at the same time, seeing as Harry grunts and curls around Louis, kissing him like it's a natural part of humping his hand. "Thought we came to the bedroom for the bed," Harry murmurs.

Louis rolls his eyes and spins him around. He makes sure to get rid of Harry's trousers and pants before he shoves him to the bed and climbs on top of him. Harry instantly leans up to kiss him again, which is cute, but Louis' got other things on his mind right now. Like leaning over him and grabbing the lube and a couple of condoms from his nightstand.

Harry's biting his lip again, but it's less sultry, more... nervous.

It hits him like an anvil, and Louis drops the things at once.

Harry's seventeen. Fuck, Louis' an arsehole.

He pointedly sets the lube and condoms aside and settles more carefully over Harry's thighs. His hands run up his torso, flicking his nipples over his clothes, until he pinches Harry's lower lip and frees it from between his teeth. It's all wet and shiny, and Louis kisses him until it's puffy and cherry red. Harry's breathing hard and blinking up at him in a daze. Okay, Louis can't take it that slow. He licks his palm and wraps his hand around Harry's cock, about to ask if he's comfortable, but then he has to gasp and look down.

That's a big, good-looking dick there. Louis works him over slowly, mesmerised by how it dwarfs his hand. He's so hard already, dripping when Louis strokes him more firmly. It's really just curiosity on his part, he doesn't mean to get Harry off, so it's surprising when Harry grunts and shifts his legs under Louis like he can't stay still. Louis uses his free hand to play with his nipples and distract him a little, but Harry just gets more flushed.

It's really lovely, how responsive he is. No, that's the wrong word. It's really fucking hot. Louis' tempted to stroke both their cocks in one hand, feel how hard Harry is right against him, but he's afraid it'll do more than take the edge off. He's not the seventeen-year-old, he's not just going to come all over Harry's thighs.

Right, okay, Harry's age. Louis bends forward to kiss him, nipping down his neck while he flicks his nipple. "Babe, have you ever...?"

"Well, like." Oh god, how deep can Harry's voice get? Louis feels shivers running down his spine and he's only said two words. "Yeah."

That could mean anything, couldn't it? Louis starts jerking him faster, tight and slick with pre-come. "Have you ever fucked a girl?"

"No," Harry gasps.

Louis hums and ducks down to wrap his lips around one perky nipple, teasing it with his tongue. He feels Harry tremble under him. Once it's wet, Louis blows over it and asks, "Ever fucked a boy?"

Harry's hips thrust up and Louis manages not to tumble off, but he can feel Harry's muscles bunch up under him. "No."

Well, fuck. Louis' got one question left and he fucking prays. "Ever let a boy fuck you?"

Harry throws his head back and groans. Louis can only stare in awe at his gorgeously flushed face. He didn't even mean to tease, it was just an honest question, but Harry feels like he's going to shoot his load right in his hand. From Louis touching him. From the thought of being fucked. "Don't come yet." He softens it with, "Answer me, love."

Harry stops chewing on his puffy lips for long enough to whisper, "No."

Shit. Louis lets go of his cock and squeezes his hand instead, trying to get him to focus. "So you're saying…"

He could tell Harry's pretty winded, but then he fixes Louis with this dirty look that screams of frustration and hitches his hips up again. "I'm good at other things. Daddy." He lifts Louis' hand to his mouth and his lips falls open so easily, sliding up two of Louis' fingers with his tongue snaking between them. He's swallowed him up to the second knuckle, got him wet, and even if the sensation didn't go straight to his cock, the obscene picture Harry's mouth makes would've been enough.

And then he realises what Harry's just said. Fuck's sake. Louis tries to laugh it off, even says, "Quoting porn won't get you laid," which is surprisingly wittier than what he's actually thinking (oh god oh god oh god).

"Seems to be working just fine," Harry says around his two fingers, shooting a glance down at where Louis' been mindlessly palming himself. He gives him a cheeky bite and then hollows his cheeks and sucks him hard. Louis doesn't even know what's worse, the fact that he's staring at him with dark eyes, the fact that he's tonguing his fingers or the fact that he apparently wants Louis to deflower him.

He spreads his fingers and pushes them deeper inside Harry's mouth. He doesn't even flinch. Shit, his eyes flutter shut prettily and he tightens his lips around him. Maybe he is good at this. Maybe Louis' aching to find out. He squeezes his own cock once and rubs his thumb over Harry's wet bottom lip. "Want me to fuck you, Harry? Be your first? Someone you just met?"

Harry nods without hesitation, getting sloppy around Louis' fingers. "Want you."

Fuck, Louis wants him too. He's going to have dreams about this seventeen-year-old's big mouth and big cock and big hands. He feels like he's going to come if Harry keeps swallowing around his fingers like that. Letting go of his cock is as difficult as drawing his fingers out of Harry's mouth, but somehow he manages both. Harry's pretty curls are messy and sweaty, and there's colour on his cheeks and his lips are shiny and gorgeous and. Louis wants to do ten thousand things to him.

He needs to consider this.

Well, he needs to cool off. He leans down to kiss Harry once, and then dismounts and climbs to his feet. "I'll be right back, yeah?"

Harry sighs and curls in on himself, shutting his eyes. "If you're not back in five minutes I'm gonna have a wank in your bed."

Louis laughs and ruffles Harry's hair, oddly fond of this boy he's just met. He can't remember himself at seventeen, but he was probably much twattier than Harry. He certainly didn't think to seduce uni boys. Maybe he should've. But he learnt from his own experiences, didn't he? He should probably encourage Harry to find a nice boyfriend to lose his virginity to, someone his own age who wouldn't instinctively want to finger Harry open for hours and fuck his face.

He stumbles to the door and sneaks out, naked and hard and in need of his moral compass.

"What if I, hypothetically, fuck Niall's ex-girlfriend's younger brother?"

"Why are you calling me? Did you leave the flat?" Zayn asks, completely useless.

"I locked myself in your room."


"So I don't fuck Niall's ex-girlfriend's younger brother."

Zayn huffs. "So you're asking for my permission to get off with a fifteen year old kid?"

"He's seventeen," Louis corrects him angrily. "And fit and funny and cute and sexy and fit."

"At least he's legal," Zayn admits after a moment's consideration. "But didn't you already fuck him? I saw you sneak off a while ago."

"Right, and then I realised he's a virgin," he whispers.

"Oh. Oh. He doesn't have a boyfriend?"

"I don't think he'd be naked in my bed if he had a boyfriend." He feels oddly offended, either by the accusation or the notion of Harry having a boyfriend.

"But that's a boyfriend thing, innit?"

Louis runs a hand over his face. "I don't know, I mean, I wouldn't mind seeing where this leads, it's not like I've got anything else lined up – "

"Wait, I didn't mean – you want to be his boyfriend?"

Even over the phone Zayn sounds incredulous. Louis' chest hurts. "Why are we talking about boyfriends, Jesus Christ, we should be talking about me fucking his brains out."

"Tommo, you're gonna go slow and hold his fucking hand if he wants you to."

"So you're saying I can?" He's trying not to sound too eager, really, but even after dumping a water bottle on himself and smoking a cig, he's as impatient to fuck Harry as he was when he had his cock in his hand.

"I'm saying you already made that decision when you took him to your room. But I'm also saying don't be a knobhead."

Louis can totally manage that. He'll be perfectly polite. He'll be the best first time anyone's ever had. "Ace."

"I'm going back to our party now, before anyone throws up on Niall's shoes again. I love you, yeah? Seventeen is legal."

He hangs up before Louis can say it back. So he says it to himself.

Seventeen is legal.

When he slinks back into his room, he half-expects to find it empty, Harry already in pursuit of some other older guy to have his way with. He certainly doesn't expect Harry to be spread out naked in his bed and jerking his cock slowly. He looks almost peaceful, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, but Louis can see how hard he is, and how tight his grip is.

He realises at once that there was no way for this to end without him fucking Harry. Even if Zayn had told him no, he'd be completely powerless right now. Harry's long legs are spread wide and his free hand is tucked into his hair. He might be pulling it. Louis locks the door and clears his throat. "It's been five minutes?"

Harry doesn't react other than a lazy answer. "Dunno. Couldn't help myself. What did, um. Did you decide?"

Louis opens his mouth to answer, but ends up stumbling over his words because Harry bends his legs and spreads his knees. Even from the door, Louis' got a view of his pale arse and inner thighs, and he can already imagine the pattern of marks he's going to leave on him, the beard burn. "Yeah."

He practically flings himself between Harry's legs. Harry laughs sweetly and flutters his lashes, acting far too cute for the sure way he's pumping his cock. The first thing Louis does is smack his hand off of it. The second thing he does is kiss him.

Harry arches up into it, rubbing their chests together and wrapping his legs around Louis' middle. So yes on bendy. Louis hums against Harry's lips and hooks his elbows under Harry's knees, hitching his legs even higher so he's almost folded in half and his cock is rubbing relentlessly against Louis' stomach. "Yeah what?" Harry asks, breathless.

"Yeah, I'm gonna fuck you," Louis clarifies, putting more of his weight on Harry so he's pinned to the bed and his own cock is pushing up under Harry's balls. "Fuck you good."

Harry outright moans and starts moving himself, clinging to Louis and shoving his hips back against him. "C'mon, Louis."

"Shh," Louis whispers, nuzzling down the column of his throat and sucking a bruise right on his Adam's apple. Harry's breathing so hard under him, Louis just wants him to relax a little. "Take it easy. Gotta prep you first."

"Uh, so I might've…" He trails off and whispers the rest, still rubbing up against him. "I might've taken care of it while you were outside."

Louis lifts his head at that, and yes, the lube has relocated in the meantime. There's also Harry seeming just that much more dazed, flushed and horny and needy. Just thinking about him fucking himself with his long fingers, biting his lip and scrunching his face, in his bed – Louis' cock hardens completely again. He needs to relax himself. He needs to be the best first time anyone's ever had.

He sits back on his haunches and lets Harry's legs fall open over his knees. "Show me."

"What?" Harry asks, confused and pouty.

Louis grabs Harry's hand and leads it down, along the crease of Harry's thigh and under his balls. "Show me how you fingered yourself. Need to make sure you were thorough."

Harry snaps his hips up even though there's nothing over him, no friction to get. "I was, please."

It's physically difficult to refuse Harry when he's being so polite, but it's also the easiest thing in the world to tease him. He takes Harry's wrist and aims so that, with one push, he's screwing Harry's index finger into his own arse. Harry gasps like he can't get enough air, but Louis tries to sound indifferent when he says, "Are you going to make me ask you again?"

Harry shakes his head, still stuttering over breaths, but he does what Louis asked him to. Told him to. He bends his legs and plants his feet on the mattress for leverage, and then pushes his finger deeper into himself, slow and shaky. Louis' still holding his wrist, still watching quietly. His hand is huge compared to Louis', but his body takes his finger in like it was made for this, his cock visibly twitching.

Louis' throat is bone dry as he watches Harry start twisting his finger. He's not even working up a rhythm or trying for it, just lazy drags in and out. "More," Louis mumbles, and Harry adds his middle finger without a second thought. His breath keeps hitching but his fingers are sure now, fucking himself steadily under Louis' watchful eye.

It's not enough. It's mesmerising and lovely and gives him a good enough visual to imagine what it would – will be like to fuck him with his cock, but Louis wants to feel him. He doesn't give Harry a warning before he slips his own finger up his crack and around his rim, where Harry's shiny fingers are working inside him. He's just touching the tight skin and trying not to interrupt him, but Harry lifts his hips again and makes this pleading sound.

So Louis attaches his hand to Harry's with one finger sticking out, and the next time Harry pushes in, it's with Louis' finger as well. They both gasp, Harry probably at having three fingers stretching him open and Louis at the heat enveloping him immediately, even more pronounced by how his finger is squeezed in alongside two others. "Fuck, fuck, Louis," Harry moans, body drawn so tight under him, so still he's shivering.

"Keep going," Louis says, leaning down to get a better look. It's fascinating, how fast Harry reacts to his voice, how good their hands look together, how tight-perfect Harry is for him. It's impossible to synchronise, Harry's too hot for it, but Louis' got the better angle and the clarity of mind to play more. He points his finger up and fucks into Harry faster than Harry is, causing friction that makes Harry choke out gasps and shove his hips down.

Louis looks up when Harry makes a particularly loud noise, and his whole body lights up at the picture he makes. He looked like a pretty, horny teenager from the moment Louis saw him, but now – well, now he looks like a pretty, horny teenager with three fingers driving into him. He's breathtaking, is what he is. "Like this? Us fucking you open together?"

Harry nods and bites his lip so hard it turns white. He notices Harry's fingers start to move faster, like he's trying to catch up to Louis, but really, Louis' got a different goal in mind. He tries swirling his finger around while keeping it slammed deep. It's a tight fit, but he thinks Harry might like it better like this, when Louis can curl his finger just enough to rub him with his knuckle. He might be a virgin, but he takes fingers like a pro.

Louis finds his spot with a hard upstroke, and Harry kicks his legs out wide, throws his head back and yelps. Once he does, he can't seem to close his mouth again, but no sounds come out, just his ragged breaths. His curls are matted to his forehead and his lips are bruised and he's so beautiful Louis has to look away. Naturally, he looks down. He has to focus to stay still and insistent against his prostate, even while Harry's fingers fuck him fast and desperate. That's just… beautiful too. Louis isn't used to spending so much time on prep, but Harry's so fucking into it. He wants to give him more.

Without dislodging his finger, he wraps his free hand around Harry's cock and tugs it away from his frantic wrist. Harry's fingers falter as soon as Louis touches him, and then twitch when Louis takes him in his mouth. He doesn't even know what does it, Louis tonguing his cockhead or Harry inadvertently pressing Louis' finger up against his spot, but something makes Harry whimper and thrash and just lose it. His hand flies to Louis' hair but he doesn't really grab it, sort of strokes it gently while Louis opens wide and sinks down.

Harry barely lasts two bobs of Louis' head before he's hissing out, "Love, I'm – I'm gonna – fucking – please, want you in."

Louis wants that more than anything, but he feels just as on edge as Harry right now, so he should probably draw this out more. He still feels too tight for it anyway. In an insanely good way, but also disconcerting. Louis pulls his finger out of Harry slowly, but Harry doesn't complain too much, seeing as he's still sucking his cock.

He has to force Harry's own fingers out, and can feel Harry clench on nothing, his legs stretching out beside Louis. He looks up at Harry through his lashes menacingly, in a way that he hopes conveys don't come yet. He could, like, stop blowing him and let him catch his breath, but Harry's cock fills his mouth so nicely and he's staring back at Louis like he's seeing a rainbow for the first time. Louis wants to show off a little, so sue him. The only reason he's here is because he's Experienced and Older, he might as well act the part.

He lifts up for a moment to run his tongue all over Harry, get him nice and wet, and then wraps his fist around his base and suckles on the head, his lips tight and his tongue restless. Harry grunts and buries his hand in Louis' hair again, obviously struggling not to thrust up. Good boy, Louis thinks, and then has to take him down his throat just to get that particular thought out of his mind.

Harry's big, but Louis likes having to work for it, swallowing him down in short bursts before having to pull up and play with the head instead. He pumps him fast with his hand then, meeting his mouth halfway and, going by the sounds, driving Harry insane. "Close, Lou," Harry warns between grunts.

Louis wants to crack a joke about seventeen-year-olds and building stamina, but his mouth is otherwise occupied and the truth is, he's no less desperate. But. And it's probably weird and ridiculous and too possessive, but he doesn't want to just be the best first, he wants to be Harry's best ever. Wants him to think about this night five years from now and get hard from remembering Louis' mouth on him. Wants him to compare whoever fucks him next to Louis. It's definitely weird. Louis' too busy cocksucking to care.

Harry warns him again and scratches his scalp pleasantly, so Louis pulls off with a wet pop. As if Harry didn't actually expect that outcome, he whines wildly and spreads his legs even wider. Louis kisses his inner thigh comfortingly, and, well. It's inviting as anything. And they did use flavoured lube.

He shuffles back so he's lying down on his front, and then grabs Harry's legs and throws them over his shoulders. Harry probably doesn't get what's happening, not even when Louis sucks a trail of bruising kisses up his left thigh. That is, until Louis reaches his fingered open hole and sucks right around the rim, the obnoxious sound not muffling Harry's shocked gasp. "What're you – Oh Jesus Christ fuck – "

Louis laps up a long stripe along the cleft of Harry's arse and lets his tongue just barely dip inside, before darting it out and licking around, up to his balls and back down. The noises he's tearing out of Harry now are nothing like before, and he can feel his thighs shake around his ears. He could push his legs apart and give himself more room, but he doesn't really mind letting Harry ride this out. It's hot, is the thing, feeling how torn up Harry is about this. How even during this intense thing, he's so careful with his hand on Louis' head, doesn't push or pull at all.

He's not making sense anymore, just a breathless rush of "yeah, yeah" and "please" and "more". He's squirming in Louis' grip and his hips are jittery, practically vibrating for him. Louis' still just teasing him with the tip of his tongue and his beard against his sensitive skin. He just closes his eyes and lets the sounds Harry's making wash over him, grounding in a way.

He's completely certain this is Harry's first time getting eaten out. He wishes he could make it last. Next time, he's going to get in the zone and start and finish with this. Right now, however, as soon as he finally thrusts his tongue past Harry's tight entrance and fucks into him, Harry's grip tightens in his hair and he comes, clenching all tight around Louis and quivering like he's coming apart. "Fuck," Harry moans, voice broken. He sounds drunk on it. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

Louis smiles and kisses over his hole, wondering if Harry's actually an idiot. As if Louis didn't mean for him to come this hard. Worse, as if Louis isn't going to fuck him anyway. He wanted him to be hazy and open and relaxed when he fucked him for real. He screws his tongue back into him suddenly, and Harry reacts violently, curling up around Louis' head like Louis' his centre right now, keeping him together while tearing him to pieces.

He keeps trying to say something but his words crumple and break into oh, Lou, oh, too much, fuck yeah. Louis stretches his tongue all the way and fucks him deep, swirls it around and then pulls out to suck on his skin instead. He reaches up sneakily and finds Harry still hard, and wet and oversensitive and perfect. This is a very self-satisfied rimjob.

When Louis finally pulls up and wipes his mouth, he can't help but take a long moment just to admire Harry. If he was dishevelled before, he looks destroyed now, chest heaving, hair tangled around his own fingers, mouth slack and shiny, pupils blown. He looks like – sex, like barely-legal, hot, overwhelming sex.

Louis gets on his knees again and wraps a hand around his own cock to take the edge off, using every trick in the book to keep from coming on Harry. He can't look at him anymore, forces himself to crawl away and grab the water bottle from the nightstand. He gargles thoroughly, trying to get rid of the tacky taste of lube and musky taste of… arse. He pours some in his hand and splashes it over his mouth. His forehead. The back of his neck. This is great, he's totally cooling off.

And then he chucks the bottle away and faces Harry again. Harry's all curled up and got his face buried in a pillow, but Louis can't miss the impressive trail of come on his torso, or the way his breathing has nowhere near slowed down, and definitely not the fact that his cock is still hard. He's just gorgeous. Louis makes sure to tell him that, and Harry kind of whines into the pillow and tucks his knees higher.

Louis crawls back to him and rearranges him gently, tossing the pillow away and placing Harry's legs around his hips. As soon as they make eye contact, Harry… settles, somehow. He starts smiling at him, this devastating soft thing, and he lifts his legs to wrap them around Louis' middle and draw him closer. Louis reaches up and pushes his impossibly soft hair off his forehead, pressing his wet hand to his sweaty skin. "How are you doing, love?"

Harry hums like he has to consider it. "Y'know. Fucking amazing."

Louis smiles to himself and leans down to kiss Harry's forehead. Harry might be blushing harder. Louis runs his hands over his thighs, marvelling at how red they are, rubbed raw by his beard. He feels oddly proud. Or maybe that's not it, probably more along the lines of possessive and pleased. And incredibly fond. "Still wanna fuck?"

Harry rolls his eyes and tightens his legs around him. "'Course."

Thank god. Louis sighs in relief and squeezes Harry's knees, gently spreading them so Harry can inch his legs higher, up to hook over Louis' shoulders. "How do you want it?"

"Like this," Harry answers quickly. "I mean, if that's – is that not how we should?"

Louis shrugs, bouncing Harry's legs. He shuffles closer so he's pressed up against Harry's bum. "Might be better for you on your hands and knees, but I kinda want it like this too. Wanna watch you."

He should've said something else, something less telling, like how he wants Harry to watch him fuck, to always remember it. Something wise and memorable. But Zayn told him not to be a knobhead, and Harry beams because of what he did say. "I'm sure you'll make it good."

That's a lot of responsibility. Good.

He grabs a condom and lets Harry do the honours, definitely not tempted to just fuck his fist when Harry gives him a couple of tugs. Not even when they add more lube to the mix. Louis is very in control of this. He lets go of one of Harry's legs to line himself up, and then stares deep into Harry's eyes for any hint of uncertainty. He doesn't find it. Harry looks a bit nervous, maybe, but mostly he looks ready and trusting and hungry for it.

Louis slips into him more slowly than he's ever done anything in his life. He wants to check Harry's reaction, he really does, but he's too busy getting his mind fucking blown. Until this second he didn't associate how tight Harry was around his finger with how impossibly good he would feel around his cock. Fuck, he's clenched around him like a vice, intense and hot and clinging, and Louis just wants to stay buried in him forever.

He's roused by Harry's feet banging on his back, and when he opens his eyes his hips automatically snap forward. Harry's arched nearly halfway off the bed, and this stream of high-strung sounds leaves his swollen lips instead of air. When Louis' in all the way, he thinks they both hold their breaths, staring at each other in awe. Louis' aching to move, to start, but Harry's stiff and still and Louis can't figure him out.

"Relax, baby," he whispers, leaning forward to brush his hand through Harry's sex-messy hair.

It triggers something in Harry, makes him clench and moan and reach up to grab Louis' shoulders and tug him down for a kiss. It's sloppy, uncoordinated, primal in a way. Harry looks desperate, tries so hard to feel Louis against him, but Louis can't give in because he'll just – "Move, m'ready," Harry slurs finally.

Louis tightens his hold on Harry's long legs and finally pulls out nearly all the way, only to thrust back in. If it hurts, Harry doesn't let it show. He sinks his nails into Louis' shoulders and grunts like he's surprised, breaths coming even faster than before. Louis fucks in fast and pulls out slow, lets Harry get used to the easy rhythm.

He's so tight it's like he's sucking him back inside every time, Louis doesn't know how he's ever going to stop. It's even worse when Harry gets his bearings and starts rolling his hips under him, not meeting him halfway but working him in, grinding on his cock. "Yeah, there you go," Louis says encouragingly, grabbing Harry's hipbones to give him some support. "Tell me when."

"Mm, when – when what?" Harry mumbles, blinking at him with his glazed eyes. Louis just smiles and squeezes him before he really starts to give it to him, steady and deep, actually moving Harry whichever way he likes until Harry cries out and falls back, practically melting into the mattress. "Now, now now now, fuck yes," he chants, like Louis somehow missed it.

He grits his teeth and bears down hard on Harry, keeping the angle but moving much faster, pumping into him noisily. Harry tosses his head back and whimpers beautifully, forcing Louis to fold him in half again and latch his mouth to his pale throat. Harry holds onto him like he can barely keep it together, moving frantically against Louis every time he slams into him and every time he sucks on his neck and every time he so much as breathes on him.

Louis straightens up abruptly and lets Harry's legs fall from his shoulders, wrapping them around his waist instead. The short pause makes fucking back into him even more intense, and Harry's so welcoming now, his hands fly up to the headboard and he grips hard like he fully expects Louis to give him a ride. Louis throws himself at him. Now that his legs aren't in the way Louis plasters himself to Harry's torso, biting and kissing every patch of sweaty skin he can reach while rocking his hips so fast his muscles burn.

It's good, it's so fucking good, he can't keep his hands off Harry. He's scratching and gripping and teasing, bruising his arms in the effort to keep them pinned down. He would feel guilty about it, really, if it didn't make Harry radiate with how much he wants it. "Close again, harder, please," he moans, sounding wrecked. "More, Daddy."

Instead of fucking him harder, Louis stops altogether, hips stuttering and head swimming. Harry doesn't look like he's joking. Harry looks fucked-out and needy and he just fucking said it, not an ounce of shame on his face. It hits Louis more than expected; his whole body feels twenty degrees hotter, sparks shooting down his spine and to his cock. "Fuck, Harry."

He's still too aware of himself to really take Harry any harder than he already is – it's impossible to forget that he's a virgin, not when he's so blissfully tight – but he does give him more. He drills his prostate with each thrust and starts sucking on his nipple, biting it less than playfully. As soon as he arches up again, Louis slides a hand under his back and keeps him elevated, pressed close to him. The next time he pushes in to the hilt, his stomach drags right over Harry's cock, and that's it. Harry lasts barely a minute before he comes with a shout, clenching tight around Louis, all his muscles tensing.

Louis miraculously survives that, manages to keep all his attention focused on Harry's writhing and twisting body, the way his legs wrap up around him like he doesn't want him to ever pull out. His biceps are bulging where he's still grabbing the headboard and he keeps coming, shooting high despite the fact he's already come tonight. He's so dirty, fucking covered in come and sweat. Louis stares at him and feels like he's suspended in time.

And then Harry clenches his arse and says, "C'mon, Daddy."

Louis comes hard and he comes laughing. He feels dizzy, like he's drowning in pleasure. Harry keeps spasming around him like he's milking him through it, and Louis just buries his face in Harry's neck and bites him hard, helpless, high on it.

Even after he regains his senses, it's a struggle to slip out of Harry. Mostly due to Harry wrapping him up in his arms like some baby koala. Louis struggles out of his grip, giggling when Harry whines and tries to cling to him. "Just a sec, you idiot."

He ties off the condom and chucks it in the general direction of the bin. He looks down at his dick and pets it, instantly hissing at the contact. I'm proud of you, he thinks at it anyway. You did good.

He can only roll over to the edge of the bed and grab the water bottle before he's drawn back to Harry's warmth. Harry's lying flat on his back with his arms wide open, taking up the whole bed. Louis sighs and nuzzles up Harry's flank, all the way to his armpit. Harry laughs and shoves him and the bottle away, so Louis ends up settling over his chest with his head against his shoulder. He makes sure Harry does drink, and then just mumbles, "Cuddle."

Like he's been waiting, Harry closes his arms around Louis' frame and forces him to curl into him, big and inviting and sticky and solid. "That was amazing," Harry comments.

Louis smiles into his chest. "Yeah? Certainly didn't seem like you were enjoying yourself." He runs his finger through the two loads of come drying on Harry's stomach. His abs tighten up under him and Louis feels him shivering.

"Shut up, I'm trying to thank you."

"Oh, god, don't thank me, I can't think of anything more awkward. Just say I've got an awesome cock and it wasn't a traumatising first time."

Harry huffs like Louis' being unreasonable. Louis' so charmed by him it's kind of terrifying. "You've got an awesome cock," he recites. "By far the best shag I ever had."

Louis pinches him for being cheeky and Harry lets out a bizarre kind of laugh and burrows his face in Louis' long hair. "I mean it, I'm so glad it was you."

Louis gives into his curiosity. "Why was it me? Don't you know boys your own age?"

Harry shrugs around him. "Was your first time with a boy your age?"

A poor attempt at a deflection, but Louis indulges him. "No." Harry hums for him to continue. "I was fifteen."

"Oh. That's... really young." He sounds unsure about it, like it troubles him but he doesn't want to offend Louis.

Louis takes pity on him and expands. "It was hot, though. After a footie match at school, I got into the showers just a bit after everyone else. Only one player was still there, this fit boy from Year 13, all soapy and slippery. I sucked him off right there with the water still running."

Harry's breath hitches and his arms grip him that much tighter. "Jesus. Had a thing for older guys then?"

"Is that your thing? You didn't answer my question. Why didn't you look for – "

Harry cuts him off. "I just never met someone… special."

That's… "Aw, I'm special then?"

"Yeah," Harry says, drily, completely devoid of sarcasm. "Just had a feeling when I saw you. Knew something big was gonna happen."

Louis can relate. Louis can really, really relate. Not that he's going to just admit it like Harry's carelessly doing. Fuck that. "It's the scruff, isn't it? You're so into older men."

"Right, Daddy," Harry says, a shit-eating smirk in his voice.

Louis blushes hard and shoves his face into Harry's arm. "Christ, I swear it's not a – we should probably talk about it, like."

"Tomorrow, please. Just wanna sleep a lot. Oh, um – can I stay over? Is that, like, cool?"

Louis' heart clenches. He nips Harry's bicep hard. "Of course, don't be dumb, I'm not just fucking and dropping you. We can go again in the morning. Well, if you don't have school." A schoolboy. Louis just fucked a schoolboy.

"No? It's the weekend? Should probably text my sister that Niall didn't give me alcohol poisoning, though."

Right, sister, Niall's ex, person Louis definitely doesn't look forward to bumping into in class. "Tomorrow, yeah?"

Harry just hums and nuzzles Louis' hair, giving him a good sniff. "Thank you. For the record."

It is awkward, it makes it feel so one-sided, like Louis did him a favour by taking his virginity. Like Louis didn't have the best time of his life. "Thank you. Dumbfuck."

Either Harry doesn't resent that or he's already asleep. Louis can't wait until tomorrow.


(Tomorrow they'll wake up and have a very fumbling conversation about the fact they'd really quite like to see each other again. Harry will kiss him and Louis will complain about his morning breath. Harry will ask if he can use the shower, and Louis will interrupt his gratuitous soaping and fuck him against the wall. Then he'll fuck him again, and again, and Harry will ask him to come to "this gig", and days will become months, and Louis will actually meet Gemma and learn that she's dating a seventeen-year-old of her own, and Harry will turn eighteen and move in with him.

It's really sort of a cliché love-of-my-life thing, but the best part about their relationship, other than having Harry as a partner, is that body shots are a ritual on every birthday, holiday and anniversary. Harry's sweet enough.)