It started when Harry ended up in Louis' drama class.
Louis was less than thrilled when he found out, honestly. Harry had a reputation of fucking when he had the chance (which was quite often) and smoking or drinking when he didn't—and sometimes, doing them at the same time. He was rumored to have slept with at least half of the staff, male and female alike, and had a tendency to take whatever he wanted without a second thought. He was trouble, simply put.
And now he was in Louis' drama class—Louis' treasured drama class. The one class that gave Louis the motivation to even get out of bed on Monday morning, the one class that Louis excelled in, the one class that made Louis feel comfortable enough to answer questions and sit near other people. It was his safe haven.
But Harry? Harry felt more like a personal hell, sent by God himself. And, yeah, okay, Louis had never spoken to him, or even spared him a glance in the hallway that required eye contact for more than two whole seconds, but he'd heard what people said, what Liam had told him, what Niall had passed on from his endless groups of friends, and that was reason enough to avoid him at all possible costs, right?
Louis took a seat toward the front of the room and nestled into a corner, somewhere he was sure Harry Styles would never dare sit with his bad-ass reputation on the line.
He was right, it turned out—Harry went straight for the back of the room, stuck himself in the chair furthest from the teacher's desk. When he walked in, everybody had went quiet, save for a few brave whisperers who couldn't stop talking about him. They were quite terrible at it, too; Louis heard them speaking of a rumor that Harry had killed someone over the summer and really, Louis didn't like the guy either, but murder? Wouldn't he be, like, in jail or something? Fucking idiots.
Louis felt relieved when the teacher walked in—Mr. Stockly, the same one he'd had last year—and greeted them all with a smile that was just the right amount of cheerful. After the normal introductions of a teacher on the first day of school, he'd finally taken a seat.
“I'm recognizing a few faces,” he began. “About half of you, at least. Which is a good thing, since this year I've deemed it best to partner you guys up—put those of you new to my class with those who've already went through a semester of bearing my loud voice. Just to make sure we're all on the same page, you know.” He let out a laugh. “So for the next fifteen minutes, I want all of you conversing and seeing who you'd click with well enough to deal with for the rest of the semester. Begin.”
Louis was about to rise from his seat when Mr. Stockly called his name. “Can I see you a moment, Louis?”
Louis sighed, wondering what he could've done to be called to his desk this early in the year—literally ten minutes into the first class. Nevertheless, he dragged himself to the desk and smiled warmly at his teacher. “Yes?”
“Louis,” Mr. Stockly began with a grin. “How's my star pupil?”
Louis let out an awkward chuckle; he'd always been shit at accepting compliments. “Fine, I suppose. And you?”
“Still alive,” he answered, shaking his head. His expression changed then, from joyful to a bit regretful almost, and Louis felt his heart drop. “Listen, you know you're my best student, right? And not just in my class—you're passing all your others, too. And you never get into fights, you never get called to the office, and the only time I hear your name in the teacher's lounge is to remark on how excellent you are in and out of class.”
Louis felt his cheeks going red; he definitely wasn't very good at taking compliments. He was sure at least half of what his teacher was saying was a lie, but he wasn't about to point that out. “Um, thanks.”
Mr. Stockly sighed. “That being said, it makes you a great role model. A fine example setter for some of our more... troubled students.”
Louis shrugged, not fully understanding the direction of the conversation. “I guess?”
Mr. Stockly let out another breath, this one deeper than before. “I'll cut right to it—I've assigned Harry Styles as your partner.”
Louis' smile dropped instantly from his face, his skin going flush. Of course. Of fucking course. It's Louis' junior year, and he's going to be stuck with the biggest dick in all of the school for half of it. Damn his need to please teachers. Damn his squeaky clean record. He'd definitely have caused more trouble in his previous years if he knew this was the outcome of being well-behaved.
“Oh,” was all he replied with.
“I know he's not ideally someone you'd be friends with,” Mr. Stockly continued. “But he's a good kid, I'm sure of it, he's just a bit more layered. And I think you could do some real good for him.”
Louis looked in the back corner of the room where he found Harry sitting, smirking wildly at a group of girls who took to surrounding his seat—he seemed in his element in an environment of admirers, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he undoubtedly led them all on just so he could watch them crumble. Louis didn't like it, or him, at all.
“I can try,” Louis muttered. “He's just...”
“Harmless,” Mr. Stockly supplied. “Now, I feel really uncomfortable talking about my students behind their backs, especially to another student, so I think our conversation is over.” He leaned back against his desk. “You'll be nice to him, won't you?”
Louis bit his lip, his gaze flickering back to Harry's seat once again. He could do this—he was an actor, after all. He could act like Harry's friend, if nothing else. It'd definitely be a challenge, but Louis was nothing if not competitive.
“Yeah,” Louis whispered. “I'll be nice to the kid.”
With one final smile from his teacher and an appreciative pat on the back, Louis found his way back to his seat and purposely ignored Harry's existence the rest of class.
The next day, after having a talk with all of his students, Mr. Stockly stood in the front of the room and announced all pairings for the room—people were giving each other knowing smiles and happy winks while Louis sat in his seat and dreaded the moment his name would be called.
“Harry, you'll be with Louis.”
Louis bit his lip, for some unknown reason chancing a glance back at Harry. When he did, Harry was just flicking his eyes to him and giving him a smile that, okay, was a little charming. He winked, and Louis tried to muster a smile in response.
After he'd finished reading off the list, he looked out at his class questioningly. “Are there any problems with who you've been paired with? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Louis should've been expecting Harry's hand to shoot up but, honestly, he wasn't.
Harry smiled, letting his hand flop back onto his desk. “My partner hasn't even spoken to me at all. If I'm gonna have to spend the rest of the year with him, don't you think it's important that he at least gives me an introduction? I'm offended.”
Mr. Stockly looked to Louis apologetically, then back to Harry. “You'll have time for introductions when we move to sit with our partners here in a moment, Mr. Styles.”
Harry gave Louis that same charming-but-he-doesn't-want-to-admit-it smile that he did before. “Perfect.”
Louis tried to shrink even further into his seat.
“Any other questions?” When he received none, Mr. Stockly clapped his hands and made his way to his desk. “Okay, then. Gather your things and move to the desk beside your partner.”
Louis gave another worrisome glance back at Harry, who was simply grinning at him and gesturing to the desk beside of him. Louis sighed, rolled his eyes, then grabbed his backpack from the ground and made his way to the back of the classroom.
And it was ironic—this time yesterday, he'd been trying his hardest to avoid this type of situation and now, here he was in the desk beside of his worst nightmare, Harry Styles. The universe must've really hated him.
When he took his seat, he crossed his arms and refused to meet Harry's gaze. He huffed softly, looking down at his table top.
They sat in silence not nearly long enough when Harry broke it. “Excuse me.”
Louis tried to hide the malice in his tone. “What?”
Harry quirked an eyebrow, turning in his seat until he was facing Louis. “I think you owe me an introduction.”
Louis was fully prepared to shout about how he didn't owe him shit, but then he turned his head and, fuck, there was that damn smile again. He felt his anger subside, if only for the moment, and sighed. He had promised he'd be nice anyway. He was just listening to his teacher.
Louis smiled through his teeth. “Louis Tomlinson,” he said sweetly.
Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair. “I know.” His eyes very obviously raked over Louis' form and Louis felt vulnerable—he wasn't the most attractive of people, he knew that, but he didn't need Harry staring him down and doubling his insecurities. “And I'm Harry.”
Louis nodded meekly. “Nice to properly meet you.”
Harry grinned. “Likewise.” He finally tore his eyes from Louis' body and looked him in the eye. “So we're partners, then?”
“Yes,” Louis answered, swallowing. It'd been five minutes and Louis had yet to explode, so he considered it a win. “In class.”
Harry tilted his head to the side. “You say that like you want it limited to this hour and a half,” he murmured. “What's the matter? You hate me already?”
Louis bit his tongue and didn't answer.
Harry laughed, shrugging. “That's okay. We're all entitled to our own opinions, I s'pose.” He let out a breath, grinning to himself. “I'll have you wrapped around my finger in no time.”
Louis couldn't help but huff at that. “I'm sure you will,” he muttered sarcastically. Harry only gave him another look, one Louis couldn't quite decipher, but it made his stomach turn—and not in the “I'm going to vomit” way. More in a “butterflies-in-my-stomach” way. It felt weird.
That was the first sign for Louis that he was in serious trouble with absolutely no hope of escape.
“He put you with who?”
Louis should've been more prepared for the scoff he heard from Liam's end of the phone. He'd just delivered the news, having postponed it yesterday in hopes of it all being a lie. But he'd known even then he was stuck with Harry, no matter what. It was just the matter of convincing himself. “Do you have any idea why?”
“Because I'm a 'good student,'” he answered, putting emphasis on the words. “I'll apparently be a good influence on him.”
“But he's—he's an animal,” Liam continued. “God, Louis, he's gonna rip you to shreds then spit out the remains.”
“Wow, that was helpful, Li. Do continue.”
Liam sighed audibly. “You know what I mean. It's just—well, he's bad news and everyone knows it, Lou. Be his partner but not his friend, yeah?”
Louis laughed humorlessly. “I can't believe Liam Payne just told me not to be someone's friend. Must be some sort of alternate universe. I thought you were unexceptionally nice.”
“Harry Styles is an exception,” he replied. “Just—”
“I got it, Liam. Don't be his friend,” he muttered in an awful impression of Liam's voice. “God, it's like you think I'm going to fuck him.” When the other line was silent, Louis grew offended. “Liam James Payne, you don't honestly think I'll sleep with him, do you?”
“What?” Liam asked. “No! No, not at all,” he was quick to interject. “I just want you to be careful, okay?”
Louis rolled his eyes, despite Liam not being able to see him. “Okay, Mum.”
“Good,” he heard from the other line. After that, conversation was noticeably curt—at least on Louis' end. If Liam did notice, he didn't mention it. Within another fifteen minutes, the phone call was over and Louis was left alone once again. Just the way he liked. Thoughts and/or fears about Harry Styles be damned.
Louis was decidedly less patient the next day.
It could've been because he had to sit next to endure the menace of Harry Styles for the next ninety minutes. Or because he'd tripped on his way to said seat—beside Harry—and caught the boy snickering at him.
“I fell, fucking hilarious,” Louis remarked, dropping his books onto his desk and sliding into his seat. He felt Harry's eyes boring into him as he sat, but he was determined to show him that he could hold his own; he kept his eyes on the front of the room and fought the heat that was threatening to color his cheeks.
“Wow,” he heard Harry whisper. He sat and waited for Harry to continue, to say something demeaning about Louis or comment on just how hilarious his fall was, but he was met with silence.
Louis let the silence linger for another two minutes, all of which he could practically feel Harry's smirk resonating. He bit his lip, turning toward Harry in a flash.
“Wow, what?” he asked, trying to hide how curious he was.
Harry shrugged, smiling crookedly at Louis. “Just...” he looked Louis up and down again and that really needed to stop and soon. “...wow.”
Louis crossed his arms, pouting unashamedly. It was only then that he saw Harry grinning and laughing like a fucking five-year-old, dimples showing and laugh booming. He looked normal, Louis could admit. Almost harmless.
But wasn't that what dangerous animals did—feigned harmlessness then waited for the right moment to strike?
Louis allowed himself a few seconds more of smiling before he turned away and hoped Mr. Stockly would turn up soon.
Now all that was left to do, as he'd put it, was wait for Harry to strike.
Surprisingly, Harry doesn't strike the next day. Or the day after. Or the entire week following the last incident—he's become an almost decent student, and maybe even a decent person. It was odd, but a good kind of odd, one Louis wasn't sure he wanted to experience with Harry Styles.
What was even weirder was the way Harry had been treating Louis—he'd speak to him when necessary, stayed quiet when it wasn't. The closest to contact he'd gotten from him was Wednesday, when Harry brought some skittles to class and Louis had been staring at the wall in a daze, and Harry mistook his look for wanting. He'd offered Louis a red skittle, telling him “they're the best and you should be honored.” Louis had eaten the stupid red candy, but all he could taste was guilt because Harry was being nice and Louis had been nothing short of indifferent from minute one.
Maybe that was Harry's angle—maybe he wanted to kill Louis with kindness, so to speak. That seemed plausible, right?
Louis glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye, deciding that, yeah, that could be true. Maybe.
“Can I borrow a pencil?” Harry's voice startled Louis from his thoughts, and he found himself blushing, imagining Harry had heard his thoughts. He was about to answer, he swore he was, but then he got a bit caught up in the way Harry's tongue licked across his lips.
“Um—” Louis cut off, realizing Harry had asked for a pencil. He fumbled for one in his bag, pulling the first one from the pocket and thrusting it in Harry's direction silently. He turned back towards to front of the room with his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed lower than normal before Harry even uttered the words, “Thank you.”
He felt ashamed; he wasn't supposed to stare at Harry Styles' mouth, especially while he was licking his lips with, like, his tongue and stuff. It was wrong, it went against the laws of high school hierarchy (if that was still even a thing, but they weren't stuck in a cheesy '80s film) and more importantly, Louis' nonexistent moral code. Nonexistent as it may be, Louis knew if he had a moral code that applied strictly to his high school experience, in big, bolded letters, the words DO NOT ASSOCIATE WITH HARRY STYLES would be printed on bullet number one.
He kept his eyes focused on the lecture, but his mind wandered. His mind must've hated him, because Harry's tongue sliding painfully slow across his bottom lip was the only thing he could think about.
He was thankful when it was announced they were going to have a paper to write on the different ways to present an emotion believably for the remainder of class, a minimum of five paragraphs long. That meant he would have something to focus on other than Harry Styles and his I-don't-even-want-to-know-where-that's-been tongue for the next half hour.
Somewhere between thinking of the proper facial expressions for someone feeling immense irritation (hopefully writing about the emotion while beside of Harry would help his problem—some classify-by-association type thing they'd gone over in Psychology last semester) and not thinking about Harry, he found himself failing at both tasks.
Harry was tapping his pencil—Louis' pencil—against his desk like an asshole, was the thing. It would've been okay, if he hadn't insisted on hitting it so hard it made such a loud thunk every time it hit the desktop. Louis' bit his lip, trying so hard to focus on his paper, but it was going to be a lost cause until Harry stopped.
“Could you stop, mate?” Louis whispered, keeping a decent amount of composure as he spoke. Harry didn't reply at first, and Louis wondered if he even heard him. He looked up, meeting Harry's eyes. Harry smiled at him, all teeth and over exaggerated dimples. And he hit his desk again.
Louis huffed, thinking a range of swear words from cunt to fucking bag of shit dicks. He decided to at least attempt to ignore Harry—he wanted a rise out of Louis, that was all. So maybe he'd stop once he realized he wasn't going to get what he wanted.
A full three minutes passed, and the tapping was still going. Louis was biting the inside of his cheek, hard and he was seriously considering doing something stupid—like punching Harry.
“Harry, please,” Louis pleaded, looking up. “Stop.”
He couldn't hold back his sigh of relief when the pencil's movements ceased.
“Sure,” Harry whispered, but there was still that hint of mischief in his tone, and just as much in the way he smirked at Louis. Louis felt like he should really, really turn away now, but Harry was moving the pencil again and he'd be damned if he let that god awful noise start again.
But Harry's hand was moving, up—away from the desk and toward his—mouth?
Louis was going to scold him, remind him that it was his pencil, but then Harry's tongue was outside of his mouth again, and Louis was just as distracted as he was an hour ago.
Harry wrapped his tongue around the end of the pencil, and Louis was obsessed with just how long and thick it seemed. He watched as Harry kept his tongue gripping the pencil—tight, it seemed—as he sucked it into his mouth, his entire tongue disappearing along with a good portion of the pencil.
He hollowed his cheeks, a quiet sucking sound escaping his mouth as he closed his eyes, tilting his head back like he was—oh god. Like he was sucking a dick.
Louis bit back what was sure to be an embarrassing whimper, subconsciously dropping his left hand to cover his crotch, his right gripping the edge of the desk to keep himself from moving. Harry looked so good like that, looked like he could take one pretty far, maybe even deep throat and fuck, did he just moan?
Louis was thankful for the seclusion of the back corner and the chattering around them, or he was sure people would've looked.
Harry slid the pencil slowly back out of his mouth, sitting up straighter as he opened his eyes. He finally pulled the pencil completely from his a mouth, a soft, wet noise sounding as he did. Louis stared, feeling his mouth gaping and his cheeks burning. Something in the back of his brain was telling him to turn away before Harry could see, but another, even stronger part wanted Harry to see what he'd done to Louis, so hopefully he'd give a more hands-on demonstration with something thicker than a pencil.
Harry met his eyes, and his pupils looked almost as blown and black as Louis' felt. The corner of his mouth turned upward in that same sideways smirk he'd given Louis the first day of class. Louis didn't know if he wanted to jump his bones or beat him to a pulp. He wondered if both was a viable option.
Time must've passed much quicker than Louis thought, because the bell was ringing a minute into their unorthodox staring contest. Harry was quick to recover, reaching for his backpack on the ground and tossing Louis' pencil inside. He pulled another pencil from his bag, placing it on his desk.
“Sorry, I'm a pencil chewer. I hope this one will suffice,” he said, before promptly turning on his heel and walking toward the exit.
It took Louis a fraction of a second to figure out what had just happened for the past thirty minutes before he was grabbing the pencil from his desk and slinging his back on his shoulder, rushing out of the room.
He caught up to Harry easily, stopping once he was only a few inches away and saying, “You absolute dick.”
Harry turned slowly, and it was obvious the smirk still hadn't left his face. “Yes, Louis?”
Louis blanked, all the hateful thoughts he'd had about this boy fleeing his mind as he watched Harry's eyes bore into his, his tongue wet his lips. He blinked once, twice, remembering hey, I'm angry.
Louis thrust the pencil onto Harry's chest. “Take it. I don't want it.”
Harry caught his hand before he could pull it away, ending with his hand pressed into Harry's chest while the other formed a death grip around his backpack strap.
“Take it. I sort of ruined your pencil, didn't I?” Harry said, tilting his head to the side as he spoke. “And so I owe you a pencil. Keep it.”
He spoke with finality, and Louis wanted to punch him—maybe in the mouth. With his mouth. But a punch nevertheless.
“I don't want it,” Louis replied, trying to tug his hand away from Harry's halfheartedly. He was vaguely worried someone would see their position and get the wrong idea, so he made sure to look as annoyed as he could.
“I owe you,” Harry repeated. He licked his lips again. “But if you really don't want the pencil, I'm sure we could sort something else out.”
Louis was still staring, doing his best to seem unafraid. “Let go of my hand,” he said, demanding.
Harry used his grip to pull him just a bit closer. “This hand, Louis?”
Louis darted his eyes from Harry's face to his chest, swallowing. “Yeah. That's the one.”
The halls were starting to clear, and it seemed no one was taking notice to the scene happening before them. “No,” Harry muttered.
Louis opened his mouth to shout at him, ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, but the bell was ringing and he finally realized they were alone in the hallway and his class was on the other end of the building.
“Fuck,” Louis muttered, all the fight he'd felt before escaping him, replaced with worry at getting a detention for being tardy. “I'm late, Harry, just let go.”
Harry shook his head. “I think we both know you don't want me to do that.”
Louis didn't really have the time to think the statement over as he pulled his hand harder than before, twisting and pulling it from Harry's grasp.
“Sorry, but some of us actually like to be model students. Thanks.” He turned his back to Harry, pausing to take a calming breath—which turned out to be a mistake as Harry grabbed his wrist and spun him around. Before Louis could even react, a pair of lips were on top of his and kissing him hard in the most cliché moment of Louis' life.
He needed to push Harry off and get to his next class, but his thoughts were quickly dissipating from school worries to trying to find the right word to describe how great it felt to be kissing Harry Styles.
Louis' bag fell from his shoulder, his mouth letting out a high noise of pleasure as his arms wrapped around Harry, digging his hands into Harry's back in efforts to bring him closer. He could feel Harry's lips shifting into a smile against his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
When Harry's tongue slipped into his mouth, Louis could clearly taste remnants of what he guessed were cigarettes, the nicotine flavor mixed with the pleasure of Harry's lips putting Louis in his own personal high.
He felt too good to care about anything other than Harry. He could only think finally as Harry pulled them backwards and towards a janitor's closet, when he should've been thinking run.
Harry opened the door knob with his hand behind his back, almost too easily, like he'd done it millions of times before—Louis vaguely wondered just what number customer he was to be dragged by Harry Styles into this same closet.
“Har—” he attempted to get out, but his words broke off into a whine as Harry kicked the door shut behind them and grabbed at Louis bum over his jeans, kneading into the flesh as he lifted him up and encouraged Louis to wrap his legs around his slim waist. He buried his face into Harry's neck, his thoughts escaping him once again as Harry pushed him against the wall, pulling their bodies flush against each other. And, oh—he could feel Harry's hard-on through his jeans, feeling himself grow harder at the thought.
Harry latched himself onto Louis' neck, sucking a mark on the side that was sure to bruise later, but all Louis could do was tilt his head, a silent plea for more.
Harry's mouth moved languidly up and down the length of his neck, Louis' eyes rolling into the back of his head.
He felt Harry's hips slowly begin to press against his. Louis squirmed, so unbearably hot and blatantly horny that he wasn't sure he had control of half of his body parts.
“Still,” Harry muttered, nipping at Louis' neck as he backed them into a wall despite. He pinned Louis there with his hands on his hips, rutting his crotch against Louis' once again. This time, Louis only moaned. “Better.”
Louis sighed, falling victim as Harry continued to get them both off.
“Harry, Harry,” Louis whispered, and he was shocked at the way Harry looked up immediately, momentarily tearing his focus from Louis' neck and their crowded erections.
“Lou?” Harry asked, his voice gravelly and deep.
Louis whimpered, taking a breath. There was a 'get off of me,' on the tip of his tongue, he knew it was. Somewhere. “Kiss me again,” he whispered instead, not afraid to resort to begging if it came to it.
Luckily, it didn't; Harry's mouth was on his again, the kiss sloppy with tongues and teeth and spit, but Louis found himself only craving more. He could still taste the cigarettes just as well as before, and instead of being turned off by it, he sucked Harry's tongue into his mouth, savoring the taste.
Harry's hips picked up pace once again, and if Louis wasn't so embarrassingly close, he might've laughed, told Harry to slow down. But he was desperate now, he needed to come so badly—
“Make me come,” Louis begged, digging his fingers into Harry's back. “Fuck, make me come.”
Harry rucked up Louis' shirt at his request, sucking one of Louis' nipples into his mouth, biting around the nub and that was it for Louis—he was shooting into his own pants, his hips moving on their own accord as he rode out his orgasm.
“Yeah, Lou, fuck. Rut against me.”
He thought he could vaguely feel Harry releasing into his pants as he came down from his high, panting loudly into nothing, staring up at the ceiling. Harry planted a few more love bites along Louis' collarbone, and Louis was sure they were in plain sight now that his mind was a bit less hazy. He softened his grip on Harry's back, his limbs feeling like jelly.
After a soft kiss pressed against the hickey Harry had just made on Louis' neck, he was pulling away and the first thing Louis noticed was that he was grinning like mad. “Thanks,” he said. He cupped his hand gently against Louis' crotch, causing Louis to wince both from sensitivity and the come smearing against his skin. “Something to remember me by,” Harry said, squeezing gently one last time before he pulled away from Louis completely and walked out of the room.
Somewhere between worrying how he'd explain showing up to class late with fresh love bites littering his neck and just how he'd survive the rest of the day with come-stained pants, Louis thought he should really stop referring to him as Harry Styles.
“Louis Tomlinson, is that a hickey?!”
Louis really wasn't thinking when he showed up to his usual lunch table without at least attempting to cover the marks Harry had left. And it wasn't like he'd gone and forgotten about, couldn't if he tried, but he'd accepted that they were there and hadn't tried to hide them since he walked in to his class with a hand on his neck, claiming to have a cramp. (Thankfully, he didn't get in trouble.)
“What?” Louis asked, sounding more surprised than he probably should've.
“Louis,” Liam repeated, gesturing at his neck. He moved the hand Louis had subconsciously brought to it. “Those marks. Don't even try to blame it on a curling iron.”
“They're nothing,” Louis lied, sitting down. He avoided Liam's eyes the best he could.
“That's not nothing,” Liam said. “Those are lovebites, Louis. You may be a hell of an actor, but you can't lie to me. Especially about something like this.”
Louis sighed, creating a story in his mind. “They're from drama, alright?” Louis said, exasperatedly, and, okay, this could work. “We were experimenting with make up today. Must've forgotten to wash them off.”
Liam leaned back. “You're lying.”
“M'not,” Louis muttered, weakly.
Liam sighed, leaning forward in his seat. He reached toward Louis' neck, and Louis froze as soon as he realized what was happening. Liam's thumb ran over the skin.
“It's not wiping away,” he said simply, and that was all he needed to say. Louis bit at his lip, sighing when Liam gave him that look. “He's no good, Louis, you know that.”
“I know,” Louis replied quietly, as if he wasn't loud with it, it would somehow become untrue.
“He's nothing but trouble. And not just at school. He breaks someone's heart and gets off on it. I'm not going to let that happen to you.”
“It's not going to happen,” Louis fought feebly.
“No, Louis, you're distracted because he's attractive and he's probably feeding you a bunch of the same bullshit his mouth has spewed countless times before. You've barely known him for two weeks and you've already let him in your pants.”
He wanted to tell him that technically, no pants were gotten into as they'd both stayed clothed the entire time, but he didn't think that'd really help the situation.
“Don't let him get to you. He's a bomb, and bombs are made to explode and obliterate everything around them. Even innocent things that get a bit too close. Especially those.”
He knew the meaning of what Liam was saying, knew he was right beyond belief. So he nodded his head, not bothering to hide his irritation when he said, “I know. It was a stupid mistake and it won't happen again.”
Liam searched his face for any give, any inkling that Louis was lying. Louis must've passed, as Liam smiled weakly at him and sat back in his seat once again. “Good.”
“Change the subject,” he demanded after a few moments of unbearable silence. He wanted to forget the past three hours of his life had ever happened—closet shenanigans and all.
“I passed that quiz I thought I was going to fail,” Liam said, and Louis wanted to roll his eyes and ask him for something surprising. But he was already skeptical of their conversation's turns, so he nodded and said, “I knew you would.”
“I should've listened to you,” Liam continued, smiling. Louis found comfort in the fact that he was being so understanding despite. “Oh! And Niall invited us to another party.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “Another one that we'll have to politely refuse at the last minute? Or make up some unbelievable excuse but Niall will believe because he's Niall and he likes to believe that nobody lies?”
Liam nodded. “Must be something different about this one, though. He said it's a little over a month away.”
Louis quirked his eyebrow. “And they're already talking about it?”
All Liam had to say was, “It's going to be at Zayn Malik's,” and Louis understood. The last time Zayn had held a party at his house during their freshman year, he'd had so many complaints and cop cars that Louis had assumed were the reason he hadn't had another. Zayn was many things, a dick being one of them, but Louis thought he was at least smarter than the average human. He supposed he wasn't.
“I think Niall's caught on,” Liam continued. “Figures if he tells us now, we'll have longer to be prepared. He really wants us to go.”
“But we're not,” Louis amended, because if there was one thing to be guaranteed at a Zayn Malik party besides alcohol and sexual advances, it was Harry Styles. Combine the three of those things and present them to Louis and you had a recipe for chaos.
“No,” Liam agreed. “Probably not. But I still feel bad about it. Poor guy just wants everyone to get along.”
“We'll all get along the day they stop being pricks to everyone who doesn't fit in with their group of assholes,” Louis stated. “I don't see that happening any time soon.”
“Suppose you're right.” Liam smiled to himself, playing with the apple in front of him.
“Aren't I always?” Louis joked, and he hoped he hadn't just jinxed himself. He needed to be right, if only this one last time. He refused to believe he could be wrong about Harry Styles.
Harry's expression was much too smug for Louis' liking the next morning.
“Morning, Louis,” he said cheerfully, with that same fucking smirk he'd been wearing yesterday.
Louis didn't waste time in coming up with a reply. “Fuck you,” he said bitterly.
He didn't bother to look at Harry as he reacted, undoubtedly looking like a total prick. Louis didn't need to look at him to know that. “Your attitude's changed since yesterday. I think I liked it better when you were moaning my name and begging me to let you come.”
Louis swallowed, turning his head, refusing to let Harry see how the words affected him.
“Or was it to make you come?” Harry continued, realizing he was getting no response. “I can't really remember. I was too busy grinding against your crotch.”
Louis took one final, steadying breath as he slowly lifted his head to look Harry in the eye. “Savor it while you can, Harry. It's never happening again.”
Harry laughed. “No, it's not,” he said, and Louis screwed his eyebrows together in shock. Was Harry actually giving up so easily? Louis felt something stir inside of him—he refused to let it be jealousy—as he thought about Harry no longer wanting him after he'd gotten that one stupid—”Not in the closet, anyway. Not enough room. If I'd had more space, I would've pulled more than one orgasm out of you. You wouldn't have been able to move.”
Louis tried hard to fight the blood rushing to his dick. But more than that, he felt blood rushing to his face, his cheeks tinting red in both shame and anger. Harry was referring to him in a way that made Louis feel like an object, another thing that breathed and could be fucked. He didn't like it.
“Stop talking about it,” Louis demanded. “As far as I'm concerned, it didn't happen and it never will happen. It'd be great if you got in the mindset, too.”
He saw a flash of regret in Harry's eyes—probably because he hadn't properly gotten a good fuck in before this—but he was quick to let it fade into an arrogant expression. Louis would've rolled his eyes, had he not been staring him down.
“I'm not so easily forgotten. Especially if my tongue's been involved.” He let his tongue fall out of his mouth and Louis was reminded of how this situation had started. “I give it a week. If that.”
Louis decided it wasn't worth a reply, settling for rolling his eyes and looking pointedly away from Harry.
He felt like the world really hated him when Mr. Stockly announced a partner project was on the agenda for the remainder of the week, and if it wasn't done by Friday, they were to work on it during their own time. Which meant time alone with Harry. Outside of school.
“Fuck me,” he whispered, ignoring the raised eyebrow that Harry could only have meant as an invitation.
When the teacher handed over the reins to the students, allowing them time to discuss, Louis' first words were, “This is getting done before Friday.”
He was met with Harry's crooked smile. “I dunno. I'm usually not very productive until it's nearing the weekend. I'll be useless until then.”
You're useless now, Louis thought, sighing. “I'm fine with doing all the work.”
“I'm sure Mr. Stocky up there wouldn't be too fond of it, would he?”
Louis gave him a look. “It's Stockly, with a -ly. And that's exactly why he's not going to find out.”
“You sound awfully sure about that,” Harry muttered. “Especially when I could casually mention how my partner is being rude and won't allow my help on a partner project.”
Louis was about to give him the, “you wouldn't,” line, but he knew that, yeah, Harry would. He seemed the type of privileged douche bag who thought it was okay to do anything, as long as it got him what he wanted in the end.
“Fine,” Louis complied. After all, he could get them at a library if he had to. It wasn't like he doubted that Harry would attempt to get in a quick hand job under the table, but he felt like he himself would be more controlled in a quiet, yet public environment.
Harry smiled. “I'll be generous and give you the rest of class to figure out how you're going to try and resist me,” he said. “Even though we both know it's useless. And it'd be great if you got in that mindset, too.”
“I don't need to figure anything out. You're not irresistible,” Louis argued, slightly miffed at the fact that Harry was mocking him. Internally, however, he was thinking, I'm going to need more than forty-five minutes.
Harry scanned Louis' face, eyes darting from place to place rapidly. Louis fought to keep his expression neutral, once again feeling exposed under Harry's gaze.
“Five days,” Harry clarified, smiling to himself.
Louis sighed. He could resist Harry. It was easy. All he needed to do was prove it to Harry—and possibly himself.
Louis wondered how he ended up sprawled out on his own bed, shirtless, with Harry working the button of his pants.
No, he knew; it was because Harry was a teasing piece of shit who wouldn't take no for an answer and Louis was weak, had no self-control whatsoever—at least when it came to Harry.
He hadn't meant for any of this to happen; only an hour ago, he had had his bag on his shoulder, heading for the door. He and Harry had agreed to meet at the library at five, and Louis should've known Harry was lying by the way he so quickly nodded at the idea when Louis brought it up. But he was stupid and oblivious, how he often was with Harry anymore, and believed Harry was capable of honesty.
When he opened the door, he saw a motorcycle parked on the side of the road (how much more stereotypical could Harry get?) and Harry was leaning against his doorframe.
“Hi,” Harry greeted, simple, like he wasn't doing something wrong, wasn't planning on doing something wrong. Louis knew those were both lies.
“What the hell are you doing here? This isn't the fucking library,” Louis grumbled, probably sounding like a toddler who wasn't getting his way, but he didn't much care what he sounded like at this point.
“Library?” Harry asked, feigning ignorance. “Is that where we were supposed to go? I was sure we agreed on yours.”
Louis glared at him. “You fucking assho—”
“Louis!” Daisy sounded from behind him. “Naughty word!”
Louis looked at the ground, seeing his sister giving him the meanest look she could muster—at her age, it was more of a half-grin half-grimace. Louis would've laughed at her antics, had Harry not been in his doorway.
“Who's at the door?” He heard his mother ask, and no no no, this wasn't happening, she was hearing things—
“Harry,” Harry spoke, giving Louis one of the biggest I win looks Louis had ever seen. “Harry Styles.”
His mother was rounding a corner, drying her hands on a towel as she went. “Oh! Hi, Harry,” she said. She glanced at Louis. “I didn't know Louis was having anyone over.”
“Neither did I,” Louis said, smiling fakely at Harry.
“That's my fault. We're working on a project,” Harry said. “We were supposed to meet at the library, apparently. But I thought we were supposed to meet here. It was my mistake.”
Louis wished looks could kill, because Harry would be a pile of dust from the glare Louis was shooting at him.
“Oh,” she replied. “That's fine, Harry. You brought everything you need, didn't you?”
Louis could hear where she was taking this and he wanted to scream at her, tell her no, this boy is trouble. But he didn't—he stayed silent while Harry answered, “Of course.” He side-eyed Louis as he said it.
“Then you're welcome to stay,” she smiled. “Call me Jay,” she continued, extending her hand toward Harry's.
“Thank you, Jay,” Harry grinned, accepting her hand and shaking it like the kiss-ass he was being. “But I wouldn't want to impose. Louis and I can get to the library in no time.”
Louis was about to voice his agreement, but Jay was quick to shake her head. “That'd be a waste of time. You have what you need and Louis' room is right upstairs. Louis can show you.”
She smiled at Louis, like she thought she was doing them a favor. Louis looked from her to Harry, knowing if he refused, he'd be hearing an earful later on manners. He decided it wasn't worth it—it wasn't like Harry would try to get him naked while his entire family was just downstairs.
Louis knew now that, yes, Harry would do that.
“You're manipulative,” Louis breathed, tugging at Harry's hair as he pulled at Louis' trousers. “You're manipulative and a liar.”
“Mhmm,” Harry hummed, clearly in his own world as he mouthed over Louis' erection through his boxers.
“I hate you,” Louis continued, persistent.
“You're definitely acting like it,” Harry murmured, pressing his thumbs into Louis' hips, his mouth lying right on top of Louis' cock. “If your dick is anything to go by.”
“Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you,” Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. “You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?”
Louis groaned. “Yeah, I am.”
Harry smirked as he hooked both of his index fingers into the waistband of Louis' pants, tugging downward at a painfully slow pace. Louis was squirming, watching him as he licked his lips at every bit of Louis' cock that was becoming exposed. He gripped at his bed sheets, balling his hands into fists as Harry kissed the tip.
“Pretty cock you have,” he remarked, placing another kiss to the head. “The prettiest I've seen.”
Lies, Louis thought. Lies, he's trying to win you over to make you break. Don't listen to him, don't encourage him.
“Yeah?” Louis asked, his face flushing.
“Yeah,” Harry muttered, grinning as he brought his eyes to meet Louis'. “Can't wait to suck it.”
Louis was sure there was a song on the tip of his tongue, one that said something along the lines of stop talking and just do, but Harry's lips wrapped around his cock before he could think.
Harry's mouth looked so, so pretty stretched around Louis' girth. Louis was in awe at the way Harry took him with such ease, such finesse—like he'd done it a million times before. But then again, he probably had.
Instead of losing his focus and pushing Harry away like any normal person would've at the thought of being just another dick in someone's mouth, Louis found himself groaning low in his throat and pulling Harry closer.
Harry felt him, he had to, but he didn't comment. He simply swallowed Louis further, taking him down the next few inches. He had about two-thirds of Louis' cock down his throat and Louis couldn't think about anything else.
“Fuck,” he said, both to the sensation enveloping his dick and the thought that this might become a more-often-than-not type of thing.
Harry pulled off, causing Louis to groan in annoyance. He merely laughed, though, crawled up to plant a kiss on Louis' mouth. “Patience, babe,” Harry said, attaching himself to Louis' collarbone. He began sucking and biting and wait—
“No marks,” Louis rushed out, his voice sounding full of arousal. Harry paused, looking up at Louis, like he was putting an unnecessary halt to what was happening. “Why?”
Louis didn't trust himself to give a coherent explanation, so he settled for, “Got caught last time. Liam. No marks.”
Harry seemed put off by the idea, but then he rolled his eyes and placed a gentle kiss onto Louis' neck. “No visible marks,” Harry corrected, latching his mouth onto Louis' chest. He bit around his nipple, sucking languidly as he went. Louis whined.
Louis pushed his chest up into Harry's mouth, threading his fingers through Harry's hair. He subconsciously directed Harry's head toward his nipple, feeling a rippling desire to have Harry's lips around them again ever since it had happened the first time. Harry seemed to get the message, complying without a second thought.
Louis moaned louder, rolling his hips up into Harry's. Harry pulled his mouth from Louis' chest, his lips red and wet with saliva, and Louis thought it might possibly be the hottest thing he's ever seen.
“Quiet,” Harry reminded gently. “Family's right through that door, Lou.”
Louis whimpered at the thought, biting his lip. Fuck, any member of his family could walk through his door right now, see Harry's mouth on his body and his boxers around his ankles. His dick twitched.
“Unless you want them to find you,” Harry continued, feeling Louis' erection jump against him. “Want them to come in here and see what you're letting me do to you.”
Louis rutted up against Harry without thinking, feeling himself grow harder and harder.
“I bet you liked it when you got caught last time,” Harry murmured, placing gentle kiss after gentle kiss to Louis' neck. “You liked people knowing that someone did that to you, and you loved knowing it was me.”
Harry bit his nipple particularly hard, causing Louis to groan in both pain and pleasure. He lifted his head back up, instead using his fingers to tease both of Louis' nipples. “I'll make sure to give you a nice keepsake this time, Louis.”
Louis was curious until Harry started nipping and sucking down the entirety of Louis stomach—he scattered love bites across his abdomen, covering his skin. He was breathing heavily now, thinking about how the next time he went to take a shower, he'd see those again and remember. He cautiously ran his finger over one of them.
Harry sat up, watching Louis' euphoric expression as he touched around his body. “Much better,” he said, regarding what his mouth had just done. He grabbed both of Louis' wrists in his hands, regaining his attention. He pushed Louis' hands upward until they were above his head, the smaller boy giving no struggle whatsoever. “Look at it. Pretty, isn't it?”
Louis' eyes raked across his own body, seeing how vulnerable the position Harry had him in was making him. But he looked, stared at the countless marks across his upper body, and he absolutely loved it.
Harry gave him a soft, gentle look, tilting his head to the side. He rolled his jean-clad hips down into Louis' naked erection. “I asked you something,” he said expectantly.
Louis honestly couldn't remember what the question had been, was too focused on the way the roughness of Harry's trousers was rubbing against him and how Harry had pinned him down so easily, but he gave a mumbled answer of, “Yes,” anyway and hoped it was satisfactory.
“You're so pliant in bed,” Harry commented, switching to using one hand to circle around Louis' wrists as he put the other on Louis' chest. “Nice contrast from school. No offense, but you seem like a bossy prick in class. I like this better.”
Had Louis not been impossibly hard, he undoubtedly would've given Harry the rudest glare he could've, but he was impossibly hard and he didn't want to risk his chances of Harry getting him off.
“I bet you'd just let me do whatever I wanted to you right now.” He seemed thoughtful as he said it. He ran his hand up and down Louis' upper body. “Mind if I test that theory out?”
Louis only nodded, fear and excitement bubbling inside of him. He watched as Harry got back onto his knees, stripping himself of his shirt. He smiled up at Louis. “I've got to go home after this. Don't want a messy shirt again,” he said. Louis swallowed, tensing up because Harry was between his legs and half-naked and he had no idea what was going to happen next.
“Relax.” Harry pushed Louis' trousers and pants from his ankles and to the floor. He spread Louis' legs wide, running his fingers along the inside of Louis' thighs. “I don't bite. Well,” he said, smiling and nodding his head at Louis' hickey-covered body. “When I do bite, it's all for pleasure.”
Louis' chest was heaving as he watched Harry, and it felt so hot that he could barely stand it. “Harry,” he whined, feeling desperate and exposed. Harry only grinned, getting onto his stomach. He kissed the inside of Louis' thigh. “Relax,” he repeated.
Louis' thighs shook as Harry's tongue gravitated closer and closer to Louis' hole. He licked right across Louis' rim, and Louis tensed up yet again. It felt good, was the thing, and Louis wasn't very sure how to handle the pleasure.
Harry let the tip of his tongue circle around Louis' hole once again, tantalizingly slow. Louis let out a soft noise of pleasure, pushing his body toward Harry's mouth unashamedly.
“More,” Louis groaned, his legs spreading of their own accord. “Please,” he added, hoping it'd convince Harry to give him what he wanted.
Harry smirked against Louis' arse, putting his lips around his hole as he dipped his tongue inside teasingly. Louis felt pure ecstasy build in his bones, unable to tear his eyes from Harry's head buried between his legs. He shuddered when Harry pulled his tongue out only to thrust it back inside, stimulating the feeling of getting fucked, but it was with Harry's tongue, his pretty, pink tongue—
His thighs wrapped around Harry's face without his control, intent on keeping Harry there as long as he could.
Harry sucked around Louis' entrance, feeling his muscles contract around his tongue. He kissed his hole one last time before moving his mouth back to Louis' cock, sucking around the head while the pad of his finger traced around Louis' rim.
Louis was close, so close, all he needed was that one last push and he'd be coming.
He got the push when Harry pressed his finger against his hole, not enough to breach, but giving just enough pressure to provide enough relief to put him on the brink. He tried to hold back long enough to warn Harry, only getting out the word, “Coming,” before Harry pushed his finger the slightest bit harder, as if he was saying, “Go ahead.”
Louis came down Harry's throat, his legs tingling with pleasure as he did. He was panting hard, his breath escaping him; he watched as Harry swallowed his come. But he knew Harry hadn't come yet, could still see the bulge obscenely tenting his trousers, and something needed to be done about that.
“C'mere,” Louis said breathlessly, gesturing for Harry to come toward him. Harry must've thought he was asking for a kiss (Louis wasn't complaining, but) because his lips were on Louis' in seconds. Louis let him kiss him as he wished, tasting his own come on Harry's tongue, putting his hands between their scorching bodies and gripping Harry through his jeans.
He felt the stutter in the way Harry kissed him, knew he was affected by Louis' touch. Louis was only encouraged, undoing the buttons of Harry's jeans and pulling them down, along with his pants, enough to free his dick.
Louis couldn't see his cock from how closely their bodies were pressed as they kissed, but as soon as he wrapped his hand around him, he wanted to cry. Harry's dick felt long, thick, but not ridiculously so, and it was perfect. He had the urge to get Harry in his mouth, but Harry's tongue was there at the moment, and Louis was tired. He could wait.
He jacked Harry off quickly, thriving in the way Harry's mouth would stop moving ever so often just to breathe. He thumbed over the slit of Harry's cock, pressing up just under the head, and Harry was spurting into his fist, part of his come landing on Louis' stomach. He felt sated.
“Shit,” Harry swore as he fell from his high, rutting his hips into Louis' fist slowly. He let his pace slow until he was just sitting there, Louis' hand wrapped loosely around his dick, his come painting their bodies, and his mouth hovering over Louis'.
Louis felt jealous knowing Harry had swallowed his come and he hadn't even gotten a taste of Harry's; he brought his hand to his lips and licked tentatively at Harry's spunk. Harry watched, stared, as Louis' tongue sucked it into his mouth. Louis seemed to savor it, swallowing after a few seconds of holding it in his mouth.
Louis smiled, attempting to turn the tables from how they'd been since this had happened the first time. “S'good,” he muttered, going in for another taste. He opened his mouth this time, Harry's come still on his tongue as he leaned in to kiss him.
He teased Harry's tongue out of his mouth, sharing the taste of Harry with him. He tangled his fingers into Harry's curls, tugging slightly as a warning of his need for breath. He let his lips simply rest against Harry's, not moving, just breathing. It felt rapturous.
“You should probably wipe the come from your hands before your mum decides to check on us.”
Louis could only smile.
He refused to call it “friends with benefits” even though that's exactly what it was.
He didn't have such an active hostility toward Harry anymore—in fact, they exchanged numbers that same night as what Louis so cleverly refers to as the sextravaganza. They talk, about more than school and sex surprisingly, and Louis is scared because he's actually considering Harry a friend. A secret friend.
What's even worse is the amount of times Louis has found himself in a bathroom stall or a closet, either giving or receiving head. He remembers the first time Harry jerked them off at the same time, both of their cocks in his hand. Louis had felt too horny to speak that time, his mind boggled by the sensation of Harry's dick and hand rubbing against his cock.
Or the time Louis had felt adventurous and groped Harry in the back of the classroom during drama. Harry had given him many looks, ranging from seductive to punishing, and Louis had received a nice mixture of those two things in the bathroom when class let out.
But the best by far had been when Harry had dragged them into a classroom during their lunch period, claiming to have a surprise for Louis. Louis had been curious, understandably, so when they got to the room and Harry locked the door behind him, he leaned patiently against a wall while Harry reached into his pocket. He pulled out a packet of lube and Louis gasped. He'd ended up coming untouched with Harry three fingers deep in his arse. Louis sucked him languidly after that until Harry came in his mouth. When he showed up to lunch a bit later than usual and told Liam he was staying behind for tutoring, Liam only rolled his eyes and offered him some chips.
That had all happened in the time span of three weeks. Louis was shocked with himself.
It was times like now, when they were alone in Louis' room that he liked most, though. Jay was downstairs cooking dinner, and she just had to ask Harry to stay—she quite liked Harry, for some reason unbeknownst to Louis. Maybe it was the curls—and Harry had agreed that he would join them once he and Louis had finished studying.
Studying entailed lots of kissing, Louis learned.
Harry's hand was on Louis' thigh, stroking up and down its length while Louis tugged at his shirt.
“Harry,” Louis whispered, his mouth against Harry's lips. “Haz.”
“Lou?” Harry replied, reaching in for another quick kiss. It was weird to Louis—the fact that he'd been adamant about never kissing Harry again less than a month ago and now they never had any alone time where their lips didn't touch.
“I have homework,” Louis muttered, tilting his head away as Harry continued to try and kiss him. “I'm a good student.”
“Good students don't blow people in the bathroom during break,” Harry argued, realizing it was useless to try and occupy Louis' mouth at the moment. He attached himself to the spot right below Louis' ear instead, nibbling and sucking. Louis groaned.
“And whose fault is it that that even happened?” Louis asked, grabbing at Harry's arm and sighing as he did.
“Yours, for telling me you wanted my cock in your mouth,” Harry replied, his mouth still against Louis' skin.
Damn it. He sort of had him there. But really, Harry shouldn't have been leaning back in his seat the way he was—he was practically begging for Louis to suck his dick, okay? And it would've been rude (and impossible) for Louis to refuse.
“I still hate you,” Louis muttered, letting a soft whimper slip from his lips as Harry's tongue slid across the shell of his ear.
“Yet I'm in your bed once again,” Harry replied, and Louis could feel his smirk pressing into his head. “When are you going to accept that you're completely infatuated with me, Louis?”
Louis felt an odd stirring in his stomach, an unwelcome stirring. He didn't have the time to think it over before Harry was continuing with, “Me and my dick, anyway.”
Louis sighed, the moment gone, and shoved Harry onto his back. He hovered over Harry, his knees plastered on either side of his body. He smiled, looking Harry in the eye as he perched himself back, sitting on his feet with Harry's legs between his own. “You can fuck right off, Styles.”
Harry simply caught Louis' lips with his own, sucking and licking as he pleased. Louis could only continue to smile, opening his mouth invitingly as Harry kissed him sloppily.
Harry began to slow down within minutes, his lips moving unhurried and carefree, unlike the hungry, urgent feeling they'd carried before. Louis whined; without their typical sex-hungry contact they were used to, he could clearly feel how Harry's lips felt, how his tongue dragged over Louis' teeth and against his own tongue. He made a mental reminder to do it more often.
“Party,” Harry said slowly, between licks and bites. “At Zayn's.”
Louis shook his head, going in for another kiss. “Not a chance.”
Harry tilted his head away, causing Louis' lips to collide with his cheek. “Who said I was asking you to come?”
Louis felt his cheeks heat up, afraid that he'd assumed wrong and fuck, was that embarrassing. He removed his head from where it was resting against Harry's, worried he'd feel the heat burning on his skin, and kept it turned at an angle he was sure Harry couldn't see him at. He was in the midst of finding something to say when Harry spoke up with, “I'm demanding.”
Louis let his eyes fall back on Harry's face, seeing pure determination in his gaze. Louis felt a mixture of endeared and turned on. “No,” he answered, despite.
“What do you mean no?” Harry asked, sounding disbelieving.
“I mean no,” Louis replied, as if he were talking to a toddler. “Parties aren't my thing.”
“Have you ever even been to a party, Louis?” Harry inquired, putting his hands on Louis' hips and pulling downward.
Yes, Louis wanted to say, but then he'd have to hear how birthday parties didn't count, and how sleep overs only counted when there were more than two people present. “No,” Louis said softly.
“Then come to this one,” Harry pushed, giving Louis the biggest set of puppy eyes he'd ever seen, and he lived with four younger sisters. “Please.”
Louis bit his lip, and he really wanted to believe he was strong enough to resist the look he was getting, but he knew he wasn't. But Harry didn't have to know that just yet. “I wouldn't fit in there.”
“I'll be there,” Harry countered. “I promise that if it gets to be too much, I'll make Zayn give me the key to his guest bedroom and we can have our own little party so I can calm you down.” He smirked. “Or rile you up, depending on how you look at it.”
“Why would I want to come in a houseful of people whose names I don't know?” Louis continued, smiling.
Harry gave him a sideways look—one that made Louis regret his question. “Do we really need to revisit how hard you got the day I mentioned the possibility of your family walking in on me getting you off right on this very bed?”
“Uh,” Louis swallowed, fighting the blood rush that was steadily flowing to his dick. “No.”
Harry ignored him. “I think I'd leave the door unlocked when we go to the party,” he murmured, as if he were actually putting thought into this. “So any one of those fuckers could walk right in and see your cock down my throat and my fingers up your arse.”
“Harry,” Louis warned, remembering his mother downstairs, and his sisters loitering about the house—any one of them could walk in at any given moment.
“Or maybe I'd leave the door open so—”
“Fine, I'll think about it,” Louis said exasperatedly. “Just stop talking.”
He planted his lips against Harry's once again before he could even think of a response. Thankfully, Harry's smugness stayed contained to his face instead of words, kissing Louis like they had been before. Louis sighed in relief once he realized Harry had dropped it. For now.
With Harry's hand moving to grope his arse, Louis was sure things were going to go a bit further, but Jay's shout of, “Dinner!” effectively killed the mood—or not so much killed it, as put it to a halt. For now.
Reluctantly, Louis pulled away. “We're coming!” He replied, hoping he didn't sound as breathless as he felt.
He gave Harry a look, a finger pushing against his chest. “You're going to go down there and be polite, okay? No cursing. No innuendos,” he reached behind his back and pulled Harry's hands from his bum. “And definitely none of that.”
“I do what I want, Lou. You know that.” To accentuate his words, he grabbed a handful of Louis' arse cheeks. Louis' hips jolted forward at the surprise contact.
“If you ever want to come in this bed again, you'll stop and be a perfect gentleman downstairs.” Louis once again removed his hand from his body, standing up this time to assure it wouldn't happen again. “I know that will be hard for you, but at least try.”
“Give me credit,” Harry stated, standing from his seat on Louis' bed. “I couldn't have been a prick if I hadn't learned how to be a gentleman first.”
“That makes no sense,” Louis argued, opening his bedroom door without bothering to check if Harry was following him.
“You make no sense,” Harry fought back, and, yeah, that was an argument suitable for a five-year-old, but it was Harry. The big bad asshole Harry had just used the comeback of a toddler and all Louis could do was laugh. It felt comfortable.
He wondered how he would break the news of being friends with Harry to Liam—just friends, as far as Liam would know. For now. Louis may have been an actor, but lying wasn't his forte—not because he was bad at it, but because it felt wrong. Especially to someone like Liam. But he was protecting both Liam and himself by keeping it from him, wasn't he? He was.
He hoped the sheer power of thought was powerful enough to make him believe that.
“Lads, the party's this Saturday,” Niall said enthusiastically as he patted Liam's shoulder on his way past them. “Excited to see you there!” he shouted, smiling even as he turned down the hallway. Louis groaned.
He already had Harry on his back over this stupid thing, and he didn't need Niall on him, too. Then he'd find more reason to go than stay at home and it'd throw off the balance of the universe. Seriously.
“Why can't he be mean?” Louis asked, sighing as his pace slowed. “Or at least have terrible social skills. He's making it hard to keep the social hierarchy.”
“Social hierarchy doesn't exist for him,” Liam answered, smiling despite. “It's good they hang around such an ace guy, though. Maybe some of it will rub off on them.”
Louis ignored his thoughts about rubbing off on one of them—instead, he grumbled almost robotically, “Yeah. Rude dicks.”
“Makes me feel even worse about not going,” Liam continued. “It feels wrong to lead him on when I know it's not going to happen, you know?”
Louis coughed, muttering a soft, “Yeah.” He swore Liam had some way to hack into his mind and know exactly what to say to either confuse Louis or make him feel like shit over doing something wrong. Liam could just stop, honestly.
“Where's the chatty Louis gone?” Liam joked, as he always did when he wanted Louis to talk but knew that seriousness got him nowhere. “Something up, mate?”
Louis shook his head, staring straight ahead. “No. Nothing,” he said, giving Liam a quick smile. Liam returned it, and the subject was dropped. All Louis could think was that he needed to see Harry. And soon.
He shouldn't have been so surprised when Harry's motorcycle slid into his driveway that afternoon.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath—he'd been merely placating Harry when he said he'd think about it. He wasn't going to a party and this curly-haired idiot wasn't going to change his mind.
But that was before his talk with Liam, before Liam said what he said and Louis had the reassurance that Liam wouldn't be there.
“Harry!” Jay greeted, opening the door and hugging Harry like he was a long lost son—which, no, ew, he and Louis would be brothers and they'd orally swapped come before. “Louis, Harry is he—”
“I know, Mum, I've been here the whole time,” Louis said, rolling his eyes because his Mum seemed to forget things temporarily when Harry showed up. Like her own son.
“Right, sorry,” she said, giving Louis a smile. She turned her attention back to Harry, who was grinning devilishly at Louis and oh no. “Dinner should be ready soon. You're lucky I'm used to large portions.”
“Actually, Jay,” Harry interrupted, and Louis was waiting for the bombshell. “I was hoping I could take Louis somewhere.”
“Oh,” Jay replied, and she didn't sound nearly as upset as she seemed to want them to think. It was obvious what she was thinking when she gave Louis that look; Like a date. ”That'd be fine. Leftovers are always eaten anyway.”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked. “If you've already gone to the trouble of cooking, I'd hate for it to go to waste.”
“Nonsense,” Jay responded, giving Harry a grin. “Louis needs to get out more. You're doing me a favor.”
Louis couldn't believe what he was hearing—wait, yeah, he could. Because his mum thought she was doing a good thing, letting Louis go on a date with an admittedly attractive boy, and he'd have been thanking her if it was anyone but Harry. But it was Harry and he wanted to scream.
“Good,” Harry said, shooting a look at Louis over Jay's shoulder. “Louis?”
He knew there was no getting out of it now, not with both Harry and his mum on his arse over it.
“Yeah, that's fine,” he said reluctantly. The way Harry grinned at him was both encouraging and discouraging at the same time. Jay smiled—was that a smirk?—and moved to hug Louis from the side. “Be careful, Boo,” she whispered. “And have fun.”
“I will,” he replied, even though he was only partially sure of the truth to the statement. He pulled away, not even objecting when his mum put her hands on his face and kissed his cheek; if Harry wanted to poke fun at him for it later, he'd just refuse to blow him for a week.
“Bye,” he said, giving Jay a parting smile before walking toward the door, toward Harry. He was really questioning how he'd gotten himself in such a situation.
“Bye, Jay,” Harry shouted as Louis grew closer. He let his lips widen to full-smile as Louis grabbed at his arm and dragged him to the door.
“Don't kiss my mum's arse,” Louis uttered as soon as the door was shut. “It's creepy.” He watched Harry's mouth open in a retort and cut him off. “And don't make a joke about how you'd rather kiss mine instead.”
“I think I'll opt out of this one, then.”
Louis rolled his eyes, but he was smiling in spite of him. “Right. So where are we going?”
Harry didn't offer an answer, instead stopping in front of his motorcycle—oh God, Louis was going to be on a motorcycle—and pulling a helmet from the seat. “Put it on,” he said, extending his arm toward Louis. Louis felt a rush of excitement and anxiety flood through him.
“How do I know this thing is safe?” he asked.
“I ride it every day,” Harry answered. “That's how.”
“But you're not safe,” Louis countered. “That means nothing.”
“Put the helmet on and get on the bike, Louis.”
Louis sighed, reaching to strap the helmet onto himself. As soon as it was resting on his head and he was reaching for the straps, he noticed Harry's helmet was discarded to the side. “Harry. Your helmet.”
“Don't need it,” Harry said, throwing his leg over the side of the bike. “Hurry up, I'm impatient.”
“I'm not getting on that thing until you put on the helmet,” Louis fought, and maybe he was being childish, but he wasn't letting Harry go unprotected. What if Louis messed him up and made him flip? Harry could die. And that's not okay.
Harry turned, rolling his eyes when he noticed Louis was standing there with his arms crossed. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” He stayed put, pulling the best determined face he could. “It'll make me feel better.”
Harry sighed, looking from Louis to the helmet. “Really?” he inquired. “Will it make you feel better?”
Louis nodded. “Much.”
Harry groaned, pulling the helmet from its place on the ground and putting it on his head. He adjusted the straps, staring straight ahead as he muttered, “Get on.”
Louis smiled to himself, stepping forward until he was standing beside the motorcycle. His smile fell when he realized how he'd have to sit—his dick would be right against Harry's back, and that was if he kept space. There was no way he'd get on this thing and not cling to something; unfortunately, that something had to be Harry. Louis grunted.
“Fuck it,” Louis muttered to himself, ignoring Harry's chuckle as he straddled the bike. As he sat, he found his thighs spread pretty far apart, and if he slid forward just an inch, he could totally rut against Harry's back. He was too scared to seriously think about doing that.
Despite his fear, he kept his arms exactly where they were. He knew he'd have to hold on, but he'd much rather pretend he wouldn't have to. He was definitely being a child.
“What's the matter, Lou?” Harry questioned. “Afraid to touch me if we're not getting naked?”
“Shut up,” Louis murmured. “I'm not afraid to touch you,” he continued, but he kept his arms at his sides.
“Louis,” Harry said more seriously. “Wrap your arms around me unless you want to fly off this thing.”
Louis sighed, carefully leaning forward and putting his arms around Harry's waist. He gripped tightly, his hands finding purchase against Harry's chest. He was cautious, keeping as still as he could. He didn't want to dig his nails into Harry's front and cause a disaster.
Harry smiled, muttering, “Good boy,” before he started the engine and it finally hit Louis that Oh fuck, I'm on a motorcycle, I'm going to die, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Don't let me go,” Harry said above the roar of the engine. “Got it?”
Louis only buried his face in Harry's back. “Don't kill us.”
He could feel Harry's body moving as he laughed from how close he was pressed to him. “I won't. Purposely, of course.”
“Fuck you,” Louis belted, but Harry was already driving, and they were moving, Louis was on a moving motorcycle with Harry Styles.
He nestled his face deeper into Harry's back, hoping if he buried it far enough, he'd forget he was on a motorcycle going God knows how fast. He inhaled deeply, catching the faint scent of Harry's cologne mixed with weed, and he let himself be soothed.
He doesn't remember anything from the past ten minutes besides Harry's warmth and smell, but he suddenly forgets that, too, when the bike comes to a sudden stop.
“Harry,” he murmured, removing his head from its nest. “Did you honestly make me miss dinner to bring me to some field?”
“Um, no,” Harry said, and fuck he sounded nervous, why did Harry sound nervous? “I didn't.”
“Then why are we stopped?” Louis questioned, his arms still tight around Harry's waist. He felt anxiety budding once again.
“My bike's broken down,” Harry explained, carefully keeping his gaze from meeting Louis'. “We're stuck.”
Louis' immediate reaction was to hit Harry's arm.
“Louis!” Harry shouted, his eyes scolding as he faced Louis. “It's not my fault,” he said, and with that, he stood up, dropping the kickstand to keep the bike upright while Louis kept his feet planted solidly on the ground.
“It's not mine either,” Louis argued. “Sorry,” he added on as an afterthought. “Fuck, where are we?”
“Not very far away,” Harry answered quickly. “We could probably walk the way back.”
Louis groaned at the thought of walking who knows how many miles. He removed his helmet and put it on the ground before Harry did the same. He sat up straighter, huffing to himself. “D'you have your phone with you?”
“No,” Harry replied, scuffling his feet across the ground. “Did you?”
“No,” Louis admitted shamefully. “I kinda didn't have time to think about what I'd need, considering you came without a warning.”
“If you knew I was coming, you would've found a way to worm out of it,” Harry spoke. “But that doesn't matter. I wanted you alone so I could convince you to come to the party.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “You know I don't like parties.”
“And I also know you haven't been to one,” Harry retorted. He stalked closer to Louis, putting his hands on either side of his body. Louis was happy Harry had at least pulled over to the side of the road before this all started. “Come on. You know how persuasive I can be.”
Louis shifted, turning to sit backwards on the motorcycle so he was face to face with Harry. “Why do you even want me there?”
Harry leaned forward, causing Louis to lean back every inch closer he came. Soon enough, Louis was laying uncomfortably against the length of the bike. Harry smiled. “'Cause I do. Simple.”
Louis scanned his face, squinting his eyes as he did. “That's not what you're really thinking.”
“No, it's not,” Harry admitted. Louis' mouth opened wider, bracing himself for a shocking confession, but all he got was, “I'm really thinking about sucking your cock.”
Louis whimpered. “Harry. Don't.”
Harry's hand gravitated toward Louis' crotch, grabbing his dick through his trousers and squeezing. “Don't what? Suck your dick? You've never had a problem with that before.”
“Harry,” Louis repeated, his tone warning.
Harry only laughed, leaning so his mouth was right against Louis' ear. “I'm going to blow you, and you're not going to come until you say you'll go to the party.”
Louis whined. Fuck. Really? Harry was a shit friend.
“But you have to be really still, okay? Wouldn't want the bike to fall,” Harry joked, grinning wickedly as he pulled Louis sweats and boxers to his knees. “That means no wriggling or moving your hips, Lou. I know how much you love doing that.”
Louis felt his bare arse against the seat of Harry's bike and let out a small moan. Harry leaned forward, kissing Louis with his tongue slipping into Louis' mouth more often than not, but still with a finesse that Louis reveled in. Louis grunted when Harry's hand came into contact with his cock.
“You get hard so quickly for me,” Harry remarked—not an accusation or a joke, but an observation. Louis didn't know what to make of it. “It's cute.”
Louis just gripped harder at Harry's shirt and pulling him forward because why was he wasting his time talking when he could be kissing him like Louis wanted?
Harry groaned quietly, putting his hands on Louis' chest as he pulled away. “Be still,” Harry demanded quietly. “Unless you want to be taken to the hospital and have to explain to the doctors why your dick's out and rock hard.”
Louis huffed; he didn't think he'd much mind any of that if it meant he could fuck Harry's mouth. He put his arms at his sides and closed his mouth anyway.
Harry smiled, and finally Louis' dick was in his mouth. Louis bit his lip, balling his hands into fists as Harry enveloped the tip into his mouth and sucked. He was going quick today, it seemed, taking Louis to his orgasm as fast as he could. Louis moaned loudly.
He continued to suck and hollow his cheeks until Louis was panting, muttering out, “I'm gonna come in two seconds at this rate,” to which Harry slowed his movements and pulled off, letting his cock fall against his stomach. Louis gave him a look of pure annoyance.
“Say you'll go and you can come,” Harry stated simply. “That's all you need to do.”
I need to come, Louis thought. He bit his lip and stayed silent.
“Fine,” Harry said, hovering his mouth over Louis' cock once again. “But just to make sure you don't come,” he continued, gripping one of his hands around the base of Louis dick and squeezing tightly. Louis opened his mouth, a broken whine escaping his lips.
“Haz, please,” he begged, his knuckles going white from how hard he was clenching his fists.
Harry looked up at him through his eye lashes, raising an eyebrow as if to say, You know what you have to do. Louis sighed—he wasn't about to give in. He was stronger than that. He had will power.
Harry wrapped his lips around Louis' cock once again and he felt his supposed will power fade.
“God, please,” Louis groaned, his mind going fuzzy. He was burning with the need to move now, the need to fuck up into Harry's mouth until he came, but he was painfully aware of how shaky the bike was without his movements and decided he could survive if Harry let him come.
Harry's mouth sunk lower and lower, the suction of his mouth making Louis' eyes darken even further. He pressed his tongue flat against the underside of Louis' cock, stopping his movements and just sucked. Louis was unbearably close, and he could feel his orgasm only centimeters away, but Harry's hand was still tight around the base of his dick and he couldn't.
Louis' thoughts were muddled, predominantly Why isn't he letting me come? Why won't he make me come? But then one word popped into his mind—party, Harry wanted him at a party, and if Louis agreed, he'd let him come. Those seemed to be the magic words for Louis.
“Fuck, Harry, I'll go, I swear,” Louis pleaded. “I'll go to the party, just—just finish me off.”
He saw Harry's lips curl up into what would've been a smirk if his mouth hadn't been stretched around Louis' cock, and if that wasn't a pretty sight, Louis didn't know what was. He watched Harry's grip loosen around him, instead moving up and down to jack off the parts of Louis' dick that weren't in his mouth and that was apparently it for Louis.
He came in Harry's mouth for what was probably the billionth time in the past month, grunting as he felt Harry continue to suck him through it. He groaned when he felt Harry's lips pull off, his dick flopping back against his stomach uselessly.
Harry straightened up, and Louis was conscious enough to notice how his dick was straining against his trousers. He felt a sudden urge to have it in his mouth, licking his lips at the thought. He flicked his eyes up to Harry's pleadingly.
“Fuck,” Harry said, recognizing the look as Louis' sex look, the one he always got right before he made Harry come so hard he saw stars. He sighed, beginning to undo his jeans. “Not on the bike.”
Louis smiled brightly, carefully removing himself from the motorcycle and dropping to his knees, not caring about the dirt or grass stains he would undoubtedly get. He watched Harry pull his jeans to his knees, then his boxers, positively salivating when Harry's dick came into view.
“Go on,” Harry muttered. “Suck me like you want to.”
Louis did; he sucked Harry greedily, took him down as far as his throat would allow (because not everyone had sucked enough dick to deep throat like a champion—yet) and licked up and down his shaft until he spurted his come onto Louis' tongue. Louis swallowed as well as he could, a few drops ending up dribbling down his chin. Harry wiped them up with his thumb, let Louis suck it off, and then kissed him like he'd wanted to since they'd gotten on the motorcycle.
Louis leaned himself against Harry, sated and content as he typically was after an orgasm. It took all of ten minutes for Louis to remember that they were stuck with no way back besides walking and it was getting darker by the second, oh fuck.
“Harry,” Louis said quickly, standing up straighter as his sex haze began to wear off. “We've got to start walking or it'll be dark and there's no fucking way I'm—”
“Lou,” Harry interrupted him, laughing to himself. “We're fine.”
“Fine? The bike is broke, the sun is setting, and we have to lug that big piece of junk with us. We're not fine,” Louis replied, crossing his arms indignantly. “Quit fucking smiling like nothing's wrong, Harry.”
“Nothing is wrong, Louis,” Harry answered. He moved to straddle the bike again and Louis was beyond pissed off. They didn't have time to play around on this fucking broken thing, it was cold and late and he wanted to get back home—
His thoughts cut short as the engine roared to life at Harry's hands.
“The motorcycle is fine,” Harry spoke, and Louis should've shouted and screamed because he'd been freaking out for the past couple of minutes over Harry's lie. He should've sworn at him, called him every insult he could think of, refused to speak to him again until he apologized. In the end, though, he got on the back of the bike and wrapped his arms around Harry, buried his face back into him as he drove him home.
Louis really shouldn't have expected any different.
Walking into Zayn Malik's house was both surreal and terrifying.
Louis had been able to convince Niall to drive them both to the party (Harry had offered, but he was still trying to seem mad about the motorcycle thing) and keep Louis' whereabouts to himself. Niall was more than happy to see Louis out and about, curious as to why Liam wasn't with him, sure, but he decided to let it slide. Louis was, for once, thankful for his easy going personality.
“So what made you finally come?” Niall asked on the drive there. Louis really hadn't thought this through—Niall had a full ten to twenty minutes to question him over a party he'd agreed to go to at the last minute after a full two years of never attending one. Louis himself wasn't quite sure of the answer.
“New experience,” Louis answered distractedly, staring out the window as he did. He wasn't about to admit that it was because Harry sucked his dick by a tree on the side of a secluded road. “Can't complete high school without going to at least one of these, yeah?”
“I'm happy you agreed,” Niall continued in answer. “You'll love the lads. I know they come off sorta mean, but they're a good laugh, I promise.”
Louis wanted to snort and roll his eyes, but instead he gave a quiet, “I'm sure.”
“I'll introduce you to Zayn,” Niall said. “Since, you know, he's the host and all. You guys will hit it off, I swear. You have more in common than you'd think.”
We've probably both had Harry's mouth on our dick, Louis thought. And vice versa.
He felt a small surge of jealousy at the thought and decided to ignore it; instead, he asked, “Like what?”
Niall launched into a story about Zayn's love of Marvel and how he listened especially well, how his jokes were always quiet and usually unheard, but funny if you listened. He sounded alright, Louis had to admit, albeit reluctantly.
“And Nick, he can be a bit more of an asshole, but he means well.” He sat back as if in thought, then muttered, “And then there's Harry.”
Louis caught Niall looking at him out of the corner of his eye, as if taking in Louis' reaction to the name. Louis tried to remain neutral. “Yeah. We got paired up in drama.”
“Yeah,” Niall answered, forcing a bit of a laugh. “He's a good guy.”
Louis kind of wanted to laugh, because everyone else had told him the exact opposite. “He's alright.”
“I think he wants to bone you,” Niall blurted, and his eyes widened. “Wait, fuck—no, I didn't say that, okay?”
Louis had to bite his lip to keep a straight face this time—he's pretty sure a noise similar to a hyena left his mouth anyway. “Okay.”
“Well, it's just,” Niall paused, sighing to himself. “He talks about you sometimes. And, like, he used to talk about whose pants he got into recently, and it's just kinda. Stopped.”
Louis took a second to process what he was being told; one, Harry hadn't told his friends that they were casually fucking around. He didn't know if that was good or bad. On the bright side, he could've taken Louis seriously when he said he didn't want Liam to know, and he knew how quick gossip spread. He could've been protecting Louis.
Or he could've been so ashamed of screwing someone like Louis that he kept it to himself. That was a possibility.
Louis didn't know what to think of the rest of what Niall had said—Harry? Not screwing everything in sight at every given chance? That didn't sound very Harry. But then again, the Harry Louis knew now didn't sound very much like the Harry he had in mind prior.
All Louis knew was that Niall had never lied to him before.
“Are you expecting me to do something about it?” Louis asked, careful to keep his tone steady.
“No. Well, not if you don't want to. But it wouldn't hurt to talk to him, yeah?” Niall offered, just as his car came to a stop. “You see him there, give him a hello.”
When Louis saw him, he'd be giving more than a hello. He'd only left the house because he remembered Harry's promise to take him away to a secluded bedroom if he got too uncomfortable, and he knew there was no way he wouldn't be uneasy at a party. He'd probably greet him with a, “Where's the bedroom?” if anything.
“Okay,” Louis agreed. “I will.”
He ignored Niall's hopeful smile and instead made his way out of the car.
He was scared.
Fuck, there were a lot of people. Half-naked people, intoxicated people, people with tattoos and piercings—not a single person Louis would normally associate with. His limits were being tested. He was thankful for Niall at his side, even as Niall's hand dragged him persistently through the crowds.
“Zayn!” Niall shouted, and a shot of nervousness ran up Louis' spine. He was serious when he said he wanted Louis to meet these people then? Louis was fucked, and not in the way he wanted to be.
Louis spotted Zayn Malik with a cigarette between his lips and a red solo cup at his side. He was perched against a table, seemingly in deep conversation with a guy with a nose ring and a girl with pink hair. He looked intimidating.
Before Louis could pull Niall to the side and ask him if it was absolutely necessary that he be introduced, Zayn spotted him and grinned, waving him over. Louis wondered if he could pull one of the classic sitcom moves—replace himself with an innocent passerby and find a place to hide. But Niall's grip tightened and Louis was stuck.
“Niall,” Zayn greeted, and when he grinned like he was now, letting it expand over the entirety of his face, he looked friendly. “I was hoping you'd come.”
“I never miss your parties,” Niall noted, laughing to himself. “I brought my mate Louis this time, actually.”
“Louis,” Zayn said, his eyes squinting in what seemed to be thought. “Louis from drama class?”
“What?” Louis asked, confused and slightly afraid.
“Harry's partner?” He continued, his expression questioning. Louis relaxed, his face flushing red because of course that's what he meant. “Uh, yeah. That'd be me.”
“Mm,” Zayn hummed, giving Louis a once over. It was different from the way Harry had looked at him; Zayn seemed curious, like he was trying to figure something out. It wasn't like the I'm going to absolutely ravish your body feel he got from Harry. “You seem nice.”
Before Louis could get out his surprised, “You do, too,” Niall was speaking again. “He is. He likes Marvel, too.”
“Really?” Zayn asked, and the conversation flowed easily after that. Louis was able to pull a couple laughs from Zayn, while Zayn was able to make Louis think and smile and feel comfortable. He was so caught up in his newfound friend (Oh God, Zayn Malik was his friend) that he'd nearly forgotten what he'd come to this place for. He was easily reminded when he caught sight of Harry out of the corner of his eye, grinding somewhat filthily against Nick Grimshaw.
He felt a mixture of angry and hurt rush through his body in a millisecond, but he tried to ignore it because he didn't get jealous—especially of dicks like Nick who had their hands on Harry Styles' hips.
No. He wasn't jealous, but he did envy Nick's position and wish in every conceivable way that Harry would push away from Nick and come over to him instead.
Maybe he was jealous.
He could feel his blood boiling, unable to tear his eyes from the scene playing out a couple feet away and listen to the conversation Zayn and Niall were having that Louis' sudden absence from would surely cause some looks.
He was prepared to give them a polite (or as polite as he could muster at the moment) goodbye and go demand Harry tell him what the fuck he thought he was doing. He'd invited Louis to this party with promises of sex, not watching Harry grind on Nick fucking Grimshaw.
Louis could only hope Harry wasn't very into it—judging by his closed eyes and smiling, perfect-for-blow-job lips, he was afraid he could be terribly wrong.
Just as he opened his mouth to excuse himself from Zayn and Niall, Harry's eyes blinked open and his gaze landed on Louis after a quick scan of the room. Louis made sure to keep his expression steely, convey to Harry how totally not-jealous he was but also how much he wanted to come over there and stake claim. He hoped Harry got the message.
But Harry, he just grinned back at him, like he wasn't being a total twat at the moment. He watched Harry raise an eyebrow at him, almost daring him to do something but he had no idea what. Harry tilted his head back, letting his eyes slip closed once again as he let his entire head settle against Nick's shoulder. He was suddenly a lot more into this dancing thing than he was five minutes ago.
“Louis?” Louis heard Niall's voice, and it sounded like he'd repeated the word quite a few times. He whipped his head around, hoping he hadn't been caught. “Yeah?”
“I'm going to get a drink,” Niall answered, seemingly unbothered by Louis' actions. “You want anything?”
After what he'd just witnessed, he figured it wouldn't hurt to down a few drinks, but he wanted to be coherent when he got angry at Harry later and refused to touch him ever again, so he passed. He kept his eyes on the floor as Niall walked away, noting how Zayn didn't make a move to leave (even in the midst of his own party, he seemed to prefer to be secluded). He was going to shoot for a conversation with Zayn, he swears he was, but he couldn't help himself from letting curiosity getting the best of him as he scanned the room for Harry out of the corner of his eye once again.
He doesn't know how long he stared at Harry staring at him, all while moving his body sinfully against someone who wasn't Louis. It wasn't fair and Harry knew that. If Louis didn't get a chance to give him hell tonight about this, he knew he'd be on the phone for hours tomorrow simply scolding him.
He was ripped from his thoughts by Zayn's hand on his shoulder. “Louis? D'you wanna dance?”
Louis took a moment then nodded, knowing he should do something, anything to keep his eyes and mind off of Harry. Zayn was fucking gorgeous, anyway. Besides, if Harry could dance with Nick, then Louis could dance with Zayn. Maybe revenge would be better than screaming, anyway.
He let himself be lead to the floor, feeling thankful when Zayn stopped somewhere that would be in plain view of Harry. He let out a noise of surprise when Zayn pulled him in front of his body so Louis' back was flush against his chest and whispered, “I know what you're doing,” in his ear softly.
Louis' face flushed, his eye widening comically. “Excuse me?”
Zayn laughed, and it sounded more like friendly teasing than anything. “I didn't ask you to dance because I want in your pants, Louis,” he said.
The implications began to set in as Zayn put a hand on his hip and pulled Louis backward until his bum was over his crotch. “Lean your head back when I talk to you, yeah? Looks more intimate, it'll really push his buttons.”
Louis' cheeks were still burning as he let his head hit Zayn's shoulder, similar to what Harry had done earlier. “I'm—what are you...?”
Zayn wrapped an arm around Louis' waist as he spoke, “Don't play dumb. You and Harry have been having the most intense eye sex across the floor this whole time. I'm doing you a favor.”
“I—you...” Louis trailed off, sighing to himself. He smiled, glancing slyly out the corner of his eye to find Harry staring a hole through him and Zayn. “Sorry.”
“Don't be,” Zayn answered, and he sounded genuine. Louis almost felt terrible about the thoughts he'd had about him a week before. “Would you mind if I kissed your neck? Harry's got this weird thing about marking skin and he'll be over here in two seconds if he sees my mouth on you.”
Thoughts of Harry rushing over and staking claim on Louis' neck ran through his mind, and he was nodding in seconds. “Yeah, no, it's fine.”
Zayn leaned closer, letting his lips hover centimeters away from Louis' collarbone. “Close your eyes. Look like you're into it,” he muttered, and Louis let his eyes slip shut as he imagined it was Harry his back was against, Harry's arms enveloping his body as they danced. He didn't think he'd have too much trouble looking into it.
He felt Zayn's lips kiss ever so lightly against his neck, and he was reminded of the way Harry's mouth had felt against his skin just the day before. But he could tell this wasn't Harry, even in his imagination—Harry attacked his neck and sucked until Louis pushed him away because, “no marks,” and trailed his lips everywhere soon after, whereas Zayn's mouth was just sort of. There.
“He's coming,” he heard Zayn whisper, and then he felt a smile against his skin. “It was nice to meet you, Louis. Hopefully Harry gets his head out of his arse and we won't have to go through this again.”
Louis wanted to know what Zayn's words meant exactly, but Harry was over there before he could open his mouth. “You came,” he said, as if he hadn't spent the last half hour mercilessly teasing Louis across the room.
“I did,” Louis responded, noticing the newfound absence of Zayn's hands on him, his body behind him. He saw his retreating form going back to his place by the stairs, Niall handing him a drink as he sat. He wondered if Niall had figured it out, too.
“Would you care to dance with me?” Harry asked, clearly on a one-track mind.
“I don't know,” Louis replied, feigning ignorance. “Too many people. And I got this offer from someone who told me if I didn't like the crowds that he'd take me up to a spare bedroom to calm me down.”
“Or rile you up,” Harry continued, grinning to himself. “You didn't seem to have a problem with the crowd a second ago when Zayn's mouth was on your neck and his dick was two pairs of jeans away from fucking you.”
“Zayn's nice,” Louis remarked. He could play coy because it was Harry's fault they were in this situation in the first place. “What about Nick, then?”
“Nick's a friend,” Harry put emphasis on the word. “And not the kind I blow.”
“But the kind you rub your arse against while giving me a stare down,” Louis argued, allowing his jealous side to peek through. “Fantastic.”
“Fuck, whatever, just—” He cut off, sighing to himself. “I really want to fuck you right now,” he muttered, and it was like something clicked in Louis' mind. Shit, he wanted that. He wanted Harry inside of him and filling him and wrecking him. But they were at a party for fuck's sake, he shouldn't lose his virginity at a party.
Harry put his hands on his waist, pulling him forward until their crotches were brushing. “Do you know how angry it made me to watch you dancing with my best friend? I was seething,” he whispered, but his tone didn't sound any less intimidating. “You—you're mine, okay?”
Louis vaguely wondered if it was normal for them to be so possessive of each other, but his mind was clouded in a haze of arousal and the only thought he had was bedroom, bedroom, bedroom.
“Bedroom,” he voiced, gripping tightly onto Harry's bicep. He let Harry put an arm around his waist and direct him to what he prayed was the bedroom he mentioned earlier that week.
Thankfully, the door Harry stopped at was at the end of the hall and as far from the party downstairs as possible. He watched Harry's hand slide into his pocket, pull out what looked like a key (he supposed he was serious about getting that key from Zayn, then) and unlock the door.
Louis practically whined as Harry took him to the bed, gently manhandled him to the mattress and laid him out. He must've looked pathetic; he was already half-hard, his cheeks were on fire, and he was pretty sure he was sweating from all the body heat downstairs. He hoped Harry didn't mind.
He watched with want as Harry walked away from the bed, from Louis, and shut the door then relocked it. “I know you have a bit of an exhibitionism kink,” Harry began, “but I'd prefer to have you to myself for now, alright?”
He waited for an answer that Louis' wouldn't give, then stripped himself of his shirt and crawled onto the bed. Louis could still see the mark he'd sucked into his stomach a few days ago and felt a surge of pride.
As Harry began to run his fingers under Louis' shirt, he wondered if he should tell Harry that this was going to be his first time. But Harry didn't seem the type to take virginities, and Louis didn't want to ruin his chances.
“S'hot,” Louis commented, to nothing in particular. Everything was hot. Louis was feeling the heat of Harry's body so close to his, his hands electrifying his body. But then those things were also hot in another way, one that sent chills through Louis' body every time he took a breath.
“You are,” Harry replied, giving Louis a sly look. He would've laughed at how cheesy the line was, but then Harry was continuing with a, “You're skin's burning.”
Louis sighed, rolling his eyes. “And here I was thinking you'd be romantic for once.”
He wondered if he'd chosen the wrong word, shed light on a part of their relationship neither of them were prepared for. But Harry simply pinched his nipples between his fingers, causing Louis to yelp. “Yeah, well, I'm still upset about Zayn, so.”
“And I'm still upset about Nick,” Louis muttered, pulling Harry up to kiss his lips to distract from anymore conversation. He bit Harry's lower lip between his teeth and tugged softly, reveling in the way Harry just let him.
Harry sat up, his thighs straddling Louis straight across his hardening crotch. “Shirt,” he said, gesturing to Louis' upper body. Louis straightened his back from its half-lying position, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. As soon as his top half was bare, he grabbed the waist band of Harry's jeans and yanked him closer. He could've died when he felt skin on skin, finally.
He pressed his cock up into Harry's, finding that they were both hard and straining. Louis decided that last part just wouldn't do.
“Sit up,” Louis muttered against Harry's mouth, breathing quickly. “Trousers.”
He waited on Harry's teasing, “No,” or a smirk then a shake of his head, but all he got was Harry moving up onto his knees and smiling down at Louis wickedly. “They won't undo themselves.”
Louis rolled his eyes. He was having enough trouble as it was keeping his movements controlled, and it'd be a miracle if he could get Harry's jeans off in the next ten minutes. Nevertheless, he rose and fumbled with the button of Harry's trousers.
“Fuck—I can't—” Louis got out ungratefully as his fingers shook. He was about to have full on anal sex for the first time, he was nervous, and he really just wanted Harry naked. Was that really too much to ask?
“Lou, babe,” Harry said, and Louis was instantly eased at his gentle tone. “Let me, okay?”
Louis swallowed, then nodded. Harry seemed to sense Louis' tension, deciding to turn it into a joke. “You're shaking like a virgin about to get her cherry popped,” he said, smiling to himself.
Louis froze, blurting out the first thing that came to his mind, which happened to be, “Well, I fucking am.”
Fuck. That wasn't supposed to come out. Maybe he'd imagined it, maybe he'd only thought it, maybe Harry hadn't heard—
He watched Harry's entire body freeze, his jeans lying halfway open and his hands on Louis' hips. He bit his lip as Harry's grip tightened, then released. Harry had heard him, then. He'd fucked up now, he could feel it.
“Um, I mean,” Louis said, breaking the silence. “I'm a virgin. But that's, like, not a turn off. Is it?”
Louis expected Harry to offer a quick blowjob, if he'd even give him that, and a promise of a text tomorrow that he'd never receive because he was inexperienced and Harry was... Harry. This entire thing was about to be over and Louis was stupid to think he'd get away with it.
He stared at Harry with worried eyes in the silence. Harry's eyebrows were furrowed, but other than that, he gave no indication as to what he was thinking, whether it was positive or negative. Louis was on the verge of tears, but no, he wasn't going to cry over sex. Especially in front of Harry.
He braced himself for impact as Harry's mouth finally opened.
“Fuck you,” were his first words, quickly followed by, “You look so pliant and pretty and vulnerable,” he whispered, leaning forward to nip at Louis' jaw. “How can I say no?”
Louis tried to bite back the grin threatening to spread across his face. He drew his lower lip between his teeth, letting Harry place his lips over the entirety of his jaw.
“Let me show you how good it can feel,” Harry muttered against his ear lobe. “Let me take care of you, okay?”
Louis could've drowned in how tender Harry's voice sounded; it vaguely reminded him of when he was younger, the tone his mother would use when he was upset and needed a good hug, someone to care for him. He felt like that's what Harry was being, in a different way, and it was both scary and comforting because he had no idea Harry could be that.
“Please,” Louis ended up mumbling, unsure of what the appropriate response was. “Harry, please.”
Something must've struck Harry from his words as he began to pepper kisses over Louis' face. He felt needy, desperate for Harry to touch him and to be allowed the same—to touch Harry anywhere and everywhere.
When Harry's mouth landed on his neck and began its normal round of biting and sucking, Louis didn't tell him to stop. He let Harry mark him up, quickly becoming enamored with the feeling of being lusted for to the point that Harry wanted a physical representation. He could deal with consequences later, but for now, he let himself feel wanted.
“God—tell me if this sounds cocky,” Harry said between kisses to Louis' neck, “but I'd already put a condom and lube in the drawer before the party started.” He paused, smiling against Louis' skin. “I had a feeling we'd be fucking tonight.”
“Of course it sounds cocky,” Louis murmured, though he was secretly thankful that Harry had been prepared. “Your ego is bigger than your dick.”
“Not quite, babe,” Harry countered. “Don't bruise my pride.”
I'll bruise your neck, Louis thought. Maybe your hips.
Harry leaned over Louis to reach the drawer, opening it and pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom; Louis noticed there was more than one condom, a whole fucking box, buried in the drawer. He didn't know whether to be intrigued, flattered, or incredibly turned on.
Louis was still shaking when Harry tugged at his jeans. “Louis, baby,” he whispered. “Relax, we've done this bit before.”
They had done this before—numerous times, even. However, now it wasn't for the sole intention of making Louis come (at least not directly), but to stretch him open for—fuck, for Harry's cock. Harry was going to use his fingers to open Louis up enough so that he'd be able to fuck him.
He tried to steady his breathing the best he could, which wasn't very helpful considering he now had images of Harry thrusting into him. If anything, it came out quicker, choppier.
Harry shushed Louis with his lips, swallowing every noise he made as his hands fiddled with pulling Louis' bottoms off. He tapped Louis on the side twice—their signal to lift their hips that had become a sort of norm between them. Louis lifted his bum from the bed without thinking, groaning when Harry pulled his jeans over his clothed cock.
“So hard,” Harry remarked once Louis' trousers were on the ground and forgotten. He ran his fingers over the length of Louis' dick. “Are you hard for me, Lou?”
Louis nodded, squirming underneath Harry's touch. He felt like he'd been hard for ages, like he could burst with his sexual desire for this boy in that moment.
“I like it when I get you hard,” Harry continued, spreading the entirety of his palm over Louis' cock. “You get so flushed, try to hide what I do to you. I wish you wouldn't.”
He squeezed Louis' gently through his boxers. Louis brought his eyes to meet Harry's, unsure of what to say. “I'm sorry,” he settled for, whining when Harry removed his hand.
“S'fine,” Harry amended quickly. “When I get you naked, you can't hide much from me anymore.”
He was making Louis feel so exposed, defenseless against whatever was happening, whatever would happen. Louis was scared, but Harry was about to be his first. He figured some form of trust was present.
Harry removed Louis' pants slowly, stopped when they hit his knees to plant a few kisses on his thighs, then resumed until they were billowing to the floor and joining the rest of his clothes.
Harry began to plant kiss after kiss to Louis' inner thighs, sucking with great relish. Louis was used to this part; Harry always left marks in places that wouldn't be quite so visible. With his neck now undoubtedly sporting dozens of clearly noticeable marks, that sentiment was gone, but Harry's need to leave love bites loitering his body wasn't.
When Harry's lips drew closer to his hole and his hands grabbed the lube, Louis kicked his side with his foot softly. Harry looked up immediately, shocked. “Don't...” Louis attempted to begin, his voice breathless. “Want you naked first.”
Harry sighed, scrambling off of the bed with mutters of, “Needy boy.” Louis didn't much mind, as Harry stripped himself of the rest of his clothing before clambering back to the bed to kiss Louis quickly. “'s this better?”
Louis responded by pulling Harry to him, planting another kiss to his mouth. “Fuck, so much better.”
Harry laughed softly against his lips. “Good,” he said, “but I need my mouth for something else.”
Louis felt himself fall utterly pliant as Harry's mouth trailed down his torso. He watched Harry's hand snake out and reach for the bottle of lube, his entrance clenching in anticipation. “Got it flavored this time,” Harry spoke against his stomach, clearly watching Louis' eyes follow his movements. He placed another meaningful nip to his hip bone. “Strawberry. I thought we could have fun with it.”
All Louis could think was, he's going to use that to open me up, isn't he? Why would it need to be flav—?
Harry tapped the tops of Louis' thighs, coaxing them apart as he got on his stomach between them. Like this, Louis could see his back muscles clench as he moved, the small but noticeable curve of his bum, his legs—the greatest Louis had ever seen, if he was shooting for honesty—hanging off the edge. He felt like he didn't appreciate those parts of Harry as much as he really should.
“I want you to be loud,” Harry murmured. “Loud enough for them to hear downstairs, over all of that noise. Don't hold back like you normally do.”
Louis did hold back quite a lot, even when they had Louis' house to themselves and could be as loud as they pleased. The thing was, he hadn't told Harry that. Harry must've been able to see it in his expression all of those times before now, and that scared Louis—what else could he have figured out?
He didn't have time to dwell on it much longer; Harry began to slick up his fingers one by one, rubbed them together to warm the liquid. This was good, this was normal. Louis could handle this part.
He couldn't, really. As soon as Harry's index touched over his hole, he subconsciously pushed his hips toward the touch. Harry retracted his hand as soon as he did, the fucking tease, and kissed the head of Louis' cock. “Gotta do it right this time,” Harry stated. “Don't wanna hurt you.”
Louis didn't know if it was the fear of getting hurt, or the tone of Harry's voice, but he screwed his eyes shut and nodded his head.
When Harry's finger slid over him this time, he stayed still and ignored how strong the need to come was.
Harry finally slipped his finger inside, and Louis outright moaned. It felt like it'd been forever since they'd started and he couldn't have been more impatient.
“Feels good,” Louis whispered, arching his back to keep his hips still. “More, please.”
Harry listened; he pulled his finger from Louis' hole and let a second join it when he slid it back inside. Louis could feel the slight stretch, the one he'd become accustomed to, but he could only think, more, more, more.
Harry began to trail kisses very, very closely to Louis' hole; he was so close his chin was knocking against his fingers. Impatient, Louis gave his hips the slightest roll downward. Harry looked up at him, his eyes a mixture of understanding and warning, before he looked back to Louis' entrance and let his tongue lick up right beside of his fingers.
Louis moaned, the loudest he had yet. He felt himself clench around Harry's fingers, desperate as Harry continued to abuse it with his tongue. He squirmed and wriggled, unable to hold back because, fuck, this had to be the best thing he'd ever felt.
He was proven wrong in a matter of seconds, when Harry's tongue went inside of him, right beside his fingers. It was thicker than his fingers; he felt so full. Fuck, if this alone felt that amazing, how would he handle Harry's cock?
Harry pulled his tongue out, listening as Louis whimpered. He kissed the place where his fingers disappeared into Louis then pulled out his fingers altogether. What? Was he just stopping?
“Three fingers,” Harry spoke, voice an octave deeper than before. “And my tongue. Then I'll fuck you.” Louis visibly shivered as soon as the words left his mouth. “You tell me if anything is too much. If you let me hurt you, you can forget about this ever happening again. Promise me you'll say if it's too much at once, okay? Don't let me hurt you because you think it'll please me.”
Louis simply nodded. It wasn't fair—this was his first time, of course it was going to hurt. He shouldn't have expected different, but he'd ignored the thought of ever losing his virginity up until around two months ago. Now he was in a bed with a boy between his legs.
His thoughts were immediately cut off the second Louis felt three of Harry's fingers prod at his entrance. He closed his eyes, his lips opening the slightest as he tilted his head back. Harry thrusted and scissored his fingers, stretching Louis open as well as he could. Louis could've come when Harry finally brushed his prostate.
“Fucking hell,” he swore loudly. Louis physically couldn't stay quiet when his prostate was even slightly nudged, which probably explained why Harry found such fascination in fingering him. “Again, again, again.”
Harry toyed his fingers inside of Louis, now hitting the bundle of nerves with every thrust of his fingers. Louis' cock was leaking precome all over his stomach.
“Harry,” he said softly, panting. “St—stop. I'll come.”
Harry smiled up at Louis, gave one final flick of his fingers before he pulled them out to his second knuckle. “Gonna add my tongue now. Say if it's too much.”
When Harry had all three fingers plus the very tip of his tongue prodding against his hole, it burned. It was the biggest stretch he'd experienced with Harry thus far, but also the best, absolutely the best.
Louis tried to urge Harry to go quicker, but Harry was adamant about going slow. Harry had taken one glance up at Louis' face after the addition of his mouth, saw Louis' eyes clenched shut and perhaps a bit wet. He wasn't about to go faster.
Harry's tongue licked around his fingers inside of Louis; it was a tight fit, yeah, but Harry was experienced. Louis seemed to be enjoying that much, if the sounds he was making were anything to go by.
“M'ready,” Louis muttered, his voice higher than normal and breathy. “I swear I'm ready, Harry. I'll probably explode if you don't, I—just—get inside of me.”
Despite Louis' permission for Harry to bury himself inside of him (he really, really wanted that), Harry didn't stop until he'd squirt more lube around Louis' hole and made sure he was thoroughly stretched—by leaning forward and staring at Louis' entrance like it was on display in a museum and Harry was the only person allowed inside.
Harry kissed his hipbone, smiling against his skin. “You're so open for me now,” he muttered, sucking against Louis' hip—purely for torture in Louis' opinion. “Think you're ready, Louis?”
I've been ready since an hour ago, Louis thought, but settled on using the less risky, “Yes.”
Without another word, Harry sat back on his feet as he fiddled with the condom package. He rolled it on easily, leaving Louis no reason to complain about the amount of time it was taking him. Louis did complain, however, when Harry insisted on slicking himself up so slowly and leisurely.
“I'll end up using my own fingers at this rate,” he whispered, and it was entirely possible he was using jokes to hide his nervousness. Harry wasn't huge per se, but he was far from small and definitely bigger than his fingers. Louis didn't think he could be blamed to wonder how that was going to fit inside of him.
“You know, you're very impatient,” Harry said, biting his lip as he wrapped his fist around his cock in efforts to spread the lube. A small moan left his mouth before he murmured, “I'm beginning to think I care more about your ability to walk tomorrow more than you.”
“If you're as good as you like to believe you are, I won't be walk—oh,” Louis cut off, the tip of Harry's cock pressing against his hole enough to make him lose his train of thought. Harry smirked to himself, biting his lip. “What was that, Louis?”
“Just fucking do it.”
Their banter was forgotten as soon as Harry gently nudged the head inside of Louis. His hands were on Louis' hips, gripping tightly as he stared at Louis' face and tried to take note of any signs of discomfort. Louis looked—shocked, maybe. Pleased.
“Am I good to—fuck—go a little further?” Harry asked, and it was a miracle he was coherent enough to get it out because all his mind was screaming at him to do was go the remaining inches, and maybe wreck Louis a bit.
“Please,” was Louis' reply. He was breathing heavier than before, but it was only because he felt so overwhelmed. Harry was going to—no, he was in the midst of fucking him.
When Harry started to push in the next inch or two, Louis was groaning and gripping the sheets. Harry moved his hands up his sides, ran his fingertips over Louis' nipples to distract him from the burning sensation he was bound to be feeling.
Louis pressed up into Harry's touch, just like he always did when Harry felt around his chest—or anywhere, really. He was writhing underneath Harry, his mouth unable to close as moan after moan fell from his lips. It only egged Harry on, urging him to pinch his nipples between his fingers as he pushed in until his dick was a little over halfway buried in Louis.
Louis began to blindly reach out for him; his hands were just long enough to grab Harry's sides and tug. Harry took the message and leaned forward enough for Louis to wrap his arms around his back.
He dragged his tongue over Harry's lips, encouraging him to take the final step and put their lips together. Louis let out an embarrassing noise, trying to mask it by licking into Harry's willing mouth. God, he was feeling so much, but it didn't feel like enough.
As Harry began to move further into him, he closed his eyes and put a death grip on Harry's back. He was probably making it harder for Harry to move, but fuck it; he wanted Harry closer. His hands snuck around to the place between Harry's shoulder blades, his nails digging into his back before he could think as Harry bottomed out.
Harry made a noise, and Louis couldn't quite tell if it was pained or pleasured. He lessened the pressure, noting how Harry had softened against him—just like he did when Louis bit his neck or pulled his hair when they were in the middle of something dirty, and—oh. Fuck. Harry was getting off on Louis scratching his back.
Louis went for it again, digging his fingernails into Harry's back a bit lower than before. The reaction was immediate; Harry's hips stuttered, causing him to hit Louis' prostate in seconds. Louis shuddered, whining against Harry's mouth. Harry raised his head, half-smirking at Louis. “That what you want?” He asked, moving his hips against Louis. “Where you want?” he continued.
Louis nodded desperately, moving his hips back against Harry's in hopes of getting him to hit that spot again. Harry slid himself further back, pulling his cock from Louis' hole until only the head was buried inside. Louis pouted.
“Don't get too greedy,” Harry remarked offhandedly, nipping Louis' jaw. “You'll end up hurting yourself.”
He was hurting now—he felt like he hadn't been this hard in his life. He looked down between their bodies, caught a glance of his cock poking up between his and Harry's stomachs. It looked purely painful, the way it was tinted an almost-red and leaking onto his stomach. He thought about reaching a hand down to take care of himself, but the he remembered where his hands were and what they caused the last time he sunk his nails into Harry's skin.
He rooted his fingertips back into Harry's spine, groaning noisily when Harry's hips lurched forward yet again and hit his prostate head-on. The pain was nothing more than a minute tingling, now, as Louis was overwhelmed with feelings of genuine bliss.
“Shit, more,” Louis griped, keeping his grip tight on Harry's body. He rolled his hips back onto Harry's dick weakly, satisfied when Harry seemed to finally let it go and thrust into Louis earnest.
Louis grew closer with every thrust, and if it had been anyone but Harry, he might've been embarrassed. But Harry had seen him do a lot of things at this point and the humiliation phase was over. Mostly.
“I can't believe,” Harry began, cutting off momentarily with a grunt of pleasure, “you're giving me this. I—um.”
Louis was too out of it to notice Harry's sentence being cut short, instead overwhelmed with the feeling of Harry inside of him in such an intimate way. It must not have been very important, or at least less important than what was happening at the moment—Harry stayed quiet as soon as the words were out, the only noises leaving him sounding content and satisfied, if not a bit frustrated.
“I'm so close,” Louis moaned out a few moments later. “God, Harry, so close.”
“Yeah?” Harry asked, grinding his hips into Louis. He dragged himself out slowly, thrusted back in with a gentle power that had Louis squirming. “You wanna come, Lou?”
Just as Louis opened his mouth to let out a barely noticeable, “Yes,” Harry slid a hand between their bodies to wrap around Louis' cock. It was a bit of a stretch, what with how close together their bodies were slotted, but Harry made it work.
Harry began nipping at Louis' neck again, letting his teeth graze the skin as Louis' grip grew tighter and tighter around his back. Louis was moaning constantly now, his mouth not taking a break even as Harry kissed him long and hard.
Louis came without a warning, spurting against Harry's hand and their stomachs in the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced. Harry continued kissing against Louis' pliant lips through it, feeling the gratifying clench of Louis around his cock. That, paired with the absolutely pornographic noises leaving Louis' lips, is what drove Harry to come only seconds later.
Louis continued to breath and pant against Harry's mouth even as Harry pulled out of him and removed the condom from his softening cock to tie up and throw away. He was still calming down as Harry leaned forward and began licking at the come covering his stomach.
“Unforgettable,” Louis said a few minutes of silence later. Harry looked up, his mouth still on his stomach even though his come was long gone. “Thank you, Harry Styles.”
“No,” Harry said, crawling up and planting a kiss to Louis' cheek. “Don't thank me. It was your first.”
Louis should've kept his next words to himself, but he was tired and buzzed off of sex. He just hoped Harry wouldn't hold them against him tomorrow. “I'm glad it was with you.”
Harry seemed to have a mental battle within himself, flopping onto his back beside Louis. Louis wondered if he should shrug it off, find a way to make it a joke and turn the situation into humor, but neither of those options made Louis feel as good as it did to tell Harry what he had: the truth.
He was thankful when he felt Harry soften, his head tilting to the side to show a smile. “C'mere. You're probably tired.”
Louis wasn't tired. At all. He felt like he could run a marathon right now with the amount of energy he felt bubbling in his veins. But Harry was here in a bed with him, looking as gentle and cuddly as Louis had ever seen with his arms open—for me, Louis reminded himself with a smile—and a soft expression. Louis could pretend to sleep, anyway.
Wordlessly, Louis shuffled into Harry's side and rested his head on Harry's chest. Harry began to stroke his hair, humming to himself as he pulled the blanket over the both of them. Louis muttered a, “Good night,” against Harry's bare skin before closing his eyes.
“Night,” he heard Harry reply.
As Louis was on his way to sleep, he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.
it's 2 am time to leave
LUOIS louis LOUISSS LEWIS
where r u??? answe rme
it's been 2 hrs i'm tiredd
zayn told me u went upstairs w harry?? txt me
OH mY gOD louis i hear some1 nd it sounds like u?
did u just scream harrys name?
zayn told me somthin else LOUIS we need 2 talk
i'm leaving zayn said he'd giv u a ride if harry doesnt
but we r tlking monday i swear!!!
Louis scrolled through the messages on his phone, a mixture of worried, embarrassed, and fear rushing through him.
“Good job,” he heard from someone very close to his ear—he jumped a bit, only ebbing his initial fear when he looked over his shoulder and found Harry staring at his phone. “Must've been loud enough if Niall heard you over the noise downstairs.”
It took a minute for it to click with Louis, then he remembered Harry's request last night for Louis to be loud. Louis shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Don't get a big head.”
“Why not? It could match my cock,” Harry argued. The corners of Louis' lips turned up into a smile and he let out a laugh.
Then Louis' mind was on Harry's cock, and what it had done last night, and fuck—Louis had sex. He wasn't a virgin anymore. He had sex. With Harry. And it was glorious.
“What's the matter?” Harry spoke against his ear. “No arguments?”
Harry began to kiss around his ear lobe, nipping his jaw before trailing his mouth down Louis' neck and stopping at his collarbone. He repeated that process until Louis finally spoke up with, “We had sex last night.”
It probably wasn't the best thing to say, but it couldn't have been too awful if Harry's laugh was anything to go by. “Just now processing that?”
“Fuck off,” Louis muttered, shoving Harry away from him halfheartedly with a small smile planted on his face. Harry quirked an eyebrow, nudging Louis with his shoulder and giving him one of the most childish looks Louis had ever seen. Louis responded with a harder push, knocking Harry straight onto his back and quickly straddling his hips with a hiss—his bum was definitely feeling the aftermath—before he could even process what was going on. He leaned in for a kiss, stopping only inches away from Harry's face when he noticed he was grimacing. “Harry?”
“My fucking back,” Harry answered, squirming underneath Louis while his face contorted in pain. “Do you have claws or something?”
“No,” Louis replied, smiling down at Harry. He shifted his body so his bare crotch was resting against Harry's. Harry instantly straightened his back, sitting up so it was more like Louis was resting in his lap rather than on top of him. “Just regularly trimmed fingernails, Hazza.”
“Then you were holding on pretty tight,” Harry concluded, grabbing the flesh of Louis' bum between his hands to keep Louis from speaking just yet. “Can't blame you. I've been told I'm a fantastic fuck.”
“Mm,” Louis hummed, deciding to give Harry the well-deserved satisfaction. “I think you held up to your reputation. I don't think I'll be able to properly walk for a while.”
Harry smiled, running his fingers up and down Louis' spine. “So me asking for another go would be pointless?”
There it was; they'd both been getting harder and harder from the minute they woke up, and Louis had been wondering when the subject would come up. “Pointless,” Louis repeated, inching his fingers across Harry's chest. “I don't know. Maybe.”
“What I'm hearing,” Harry began, mouthing up the length of Louis' neck with soft kisses, “is that you want to be convinced.”
“I never said that,” Louis answered, but it was obvious to both of them he was being cross purposefully. He bit his lip when he received no answer from Harry—instead, he got a nagging suck on his left nipple. “Fuck.”
“S'what I'm trying to do,” Harry muttered against Louis' chest, and Louis was both turned on and endeared.
Harry continued his attack to Louis' nipples, kissing and sucking over the nubs until they were suitably hard, and then some after that. Louis' cock was flopping up against his stomach, trapped between their bodies as Harry marked him up.
Louis had just opened his mouth to give Harry the go ahead to just get in him already, but there was a particularly loud knock at the door. The sudden noise caused Louis to jump, coincidentally just as Harry's mouth had locked around his nipple once again, ending with Louis nipple being tugged from between Harry's teeth.
Louis let out an embarrassingly breathy whimper, and Harry tucked that information away in his mind for future reference; Louis had sensitive nipples.
Louis' face was colored a dark shade of red as his eyes darted from the door to Harry, his hand covering his mouth to keep from anymore noises being released. Harry simply licked over his nipple one last time with a smirk, keeping his eyes locked with Louis' as he spoke. “Who is it?”
“You know who it fucking is,” Zayn's voice sounded from the other side of the door. “I was going to give you guys a nice morning in and clean up the house myself, but if you're gonna insist on fucking on that bed again, you can put some clothes on and help.”
While Louis' cheeks tried to go a shade darker (it was pretty difficult at this point), Harry answered with a, “We'll be down in a minute.” He heard Zayn's distinctive huff from outside the door, followed by footsteps and a, “You better be.”
As soon as Louis was sure Zayn was out of earshot, he was frowning at Harry. “Hazzz,” he said, drawing out the syllable. “I'm hard.”
“You think I don't know that?” Harry replied, rubbing his hips up into Louis' for emphasis. “That's why we fix this quickly.”
After they both came in an almost embarrassingly short amount of time and took an even shorter time to clean themselves up, they reluctantly got dressed. Louis tried to pointedly not watch Harry dress, instead busying himself by searching for his clothes that had been scattered the night before.
“Harry?” he asked, suddenly in a panic. His boxers were present, his jeans were right beside of them—but his shirt. “Where's my shirt?”
“Don't know,” Harry answered, much too quickly for Louis' liking. “You can borrow one of the spares I always leave in Zayn's room.”
Louis crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the need to be petulant. “If I didn't know you, I'd guess you were innocent. But, since I do know you, I'm going to go ahead and assume you had a part in this.”
“And why would I do that?” Harry inquired, raising an eyebrow at Louis while he pulled his jeans up and buttoned them. Louis watched him closely, biting his lip.
“I don't know. To be a piece of shit,” Louis answered, picking up his own pair of trousers and sliding a leg in. “That's why you do a lot of things, isn't it?”
“Ouch,” Harry replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. Louis looked up and gave him a half-smirk, just so he knew he was only teasing. Harry grabbed his discarded tank top, walking over to wear Louis was struggling to stay upright while wiggling into his jeans, and held out the article of clothing. “You can wear mine, if it makes you feel any better.”
“And greet my mum in someone else's shirt after being gone all night at a party? I'll pass,” Louis said, shaking his head. He got his jeans on and immediately pushed past Harry in hopes that he'd just glanced over his shirt in his rush to get dressed.
“I'd worry less about what you're wearing and more about the hickeys on your neck.”
Louis paused his searching, standing up without a thought and subconsciously bringing a hand to his collarbone. “Shit, Harry, how bad did you get?”
“Depends,” Harry answered simply, and Louis was quick to stalk up to him and ask, “Where's the closest bathroom?” He only rolled his eyes a bit when Harry waggled his eyebrows. “I need a mirror, idiot.”
“I know.” Harry laughed and put his hands on Louis' waist to lead him out of the room and hopefully to a mirror. Louis really hoped Zayn wasn't lurking in halls because he'd undoubtedly see their shirtless bodies heading to a bathroom and assume, and then they'd be in another conversation altogether.
When they reached a room only a few feet from the one they'd been staying in, Louis was quick to rush inside and find a mirror. When he caught sight of his neck, all he could utter was, “Harry, you dick.”
“And how many times do you plan on calling me that before you mean it?” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes and crowding against Louis in front of the mirror. Louis nudged his side, watching his eyes scan over Louis' appearance in his reflection. “I don't see the problem. I think they look great.”
Louis shook his head. Even if he sort of wanted to murder Harry for putting so many marks up his neck that would take a pound of makeup to cover, he had also just had sex with him and he was still pretty floaty about that. Harry could be excused for the day.
Smiling, Louis placed his hand on the lovebites once again. He raised an eyebrow at Harry. “You're just dying to get me caught, aren't you?”
Harry turned Louis' body so he was facing the mirror once again, gently moving his hand from his neck and kissing over one of the many marks. He kissed his way up to Louis' ear slowly, every touch of his lips lingering until Louis' face was void of expression because shit, this whole sex then morning after thing was making this feel a lot like a—Louis struggled with the word—relationship. Even worse, Louis didn't really think he minded.
He tried to ignore his thoughts when Harry's lips stopped moving along his skin, hovered right over his ear and whispered, “Live a little, Louis.” Louis bit his lip, saw his skin flush just the slightest in his reflection. There was a split second it looked like Harry was going to kiss him, and Louis was prepared to go through with it, but of course Harry decided to pull away at the last second and give him a playful smack on his bum. “Come on. Zayn's probably drowning in solo cups.”
Louis groaned, a bit annoyed but mostly frustrated. He stuck his tongue out at Harry on his way out the door, muttering, “I still need a fucking shirt. Preferably one that covers the teeth marks on my neck. I look like I was attacked by an animal.”
“Keep pretending to be against my mouth on your skin, we both know you'll let it happen again,” Harry replied, guiding Louis back to the bedroom with his hands on his sides as always.
“Were those song lyrics?” Louis asked, not even attempting an argument. It would be a failed one on his end anyway.
“They should be,” Harry remarked, looking and sounding thoughtful. Louis found himself smiling at the expression on his face. “Maybe I should join a band.”
Louis laughed, heading back into the bedroom and grabbing Harry's shirt from the night before. “Good luck with that.”
He ended up talking Harry into lending him a t-shirt instead of the tank top he had pulled out for Louis first (“Come on, it'll put those pretty little bites on display. No one will come near you.” “Yeah, I better watch out for boys trying to get into my pants in my house full of women I'm related to.”). It was still obscenely black and had the name of a band Louis didn't know across the chest, but it was better than going downstairs half-naked.
Going downstairs. That was another playing field altogether.
“Took you long enough,” Zayn had muttered when they both emerged from the stairs a few minutes later. He was bent over with a garbage bag in one hand and a beer bottle in the other. Louis wondered if the greatest party ever was really worth all the clean-up he'd have to go through the next day. “I went up there, what? A half hour ago?”
“Yeah, and you're still on thin ice from last night,” Harry said in answer, grabbing a cup from the floor and throwing it in the bag despite. “You're lucky I'm even still here.”
“You and I both know last night wouldn't have happened if it weren't for our little escapade,” Zayn argued wholeheartedly, nodding up at Louis. “I had no intentions of fucking you, mate. No offense.”
“None taken,” Louis replied. He leaned down and began helping them rid the room of trash—it felt strangely comfortable.
“Doesn't mean I can't be mad,” Harry continued a few moments later, a hint of a pout in his tone. Louis almost wanted to call him out on it, but he settled for smiling to himself and continuing to clean.
Within thirty minutes, they had barely put a dent in the mess covering the ground—that thirty minutes may have contained more conversation than cleaning, but. At the end of that half hour, Louis' phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, ready to read and blatantly ignore another curious text from Niall—he needed to ask Zayn about just what he'd said, he remembered—but was surprised to find it was a phone call. From his mother.
“Fuck,” he swore. He couldn't just answer the phone with Harry and Zayn in the room; it'd be embarrassing as hell, and Louis wasn't sure he wanted them hearing his mother shout about curfews and limitations. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten completely about anything outside of this house, and he's royally fucked for doing it.
“Who's that?” Harry questioned; Louis realized he'd been staring blankly at his phone without making a move to answer.
“Um,” Louis began. “My mum.”
“Shit,” Harry said under his breath. “Fuck, I forgot that you needed to be home.” Harry dropped his garbage bag, a few pieces falling as he did—Louis heard Zayn sigh dramatically. “Answer the damn thing and I'll start my car, okay?”
Louis nodded as best as he could, answering the phone with shaky fingers and hoping for the best.
“Louis,” Jay replied, voice thick with a mixture of concern and anger. “Where are you? I called Niall and he said you slept over at this boy's house, and I didn't trust it but he said Harry stayed with you and—it's two in the afternoon, why aren't you home?!”
Louis explained the night's details to his mother—as much as he could, at least. He assured her that he was fine and he had slept in, and that Harry was starting his car as they spoke. He coaxed her off the line with copious amounts of apologies and promises that he'd be home soon, giving an apologetic smile and a nod in Zayn's direction as he headed out the door.
When he got outside, he found Harry sitting in the driver's side of a car he didn't recognize, but he didn't care because at least he wouldn't be arriving home on a motorcycle.
Louis got into the car without slamming the door which was a win in itself. As soon as he was seated, however, Harry was speaking. “Is she mad?”
Louis debated halfheartedly shouting at him and going on and on about how this is all his fault with his stupid dick and being so fucking tempting, but he wasn't much up for the argument. Instead, he said, “Probably not as mad as she should be.”
Harry pursed his lips, pressing his foot to the gas pedal. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Louis curled in closer to himself. “She thinks last night was a friendly sleepover after-party.”
He saw Harry's lips turn up into a smile. “Oh,” he answered, and Louis just knew he was holding back a joke or two. “Not to worry you, babe, but I think she might be suspicious after the shirt and that fucked out look you’re wearing.”
“I don't look fucked out,” Louis countered, but he glanced at himself in the mirror anyway. “Do I?”
When Harry didn't speak, Louis turned his head to the side to find Harry giving him a sorry-not-sorry grin. Louis sighed.
“I'm going to die,” he stated, rubbing his palm over his face. “Why did I ever go to that stupid thing?”
The question was clearly the product of Louis' melodramatic attitude, but Harry presented him with a reply anyway. “I don't know, why did you?”
Because you asked me, you big stupid jerk, Louis thought, but he remained quiet. He felt like admitting it mentally to himself was healthy, but admitting it aloud and to Harry would be a huge mistake. He could handle being quiet just this once.
By the time they reached Louis' house, he was shaking. He'd never done anything bad in his life—the only time he'd gotten close was the one time he went to his Liam's house while his parents were away and had been home at one o'clock in the morning after an accidental nap. This was very different and much worse.
He was too far in with his nerves to kiss Harry like he wanted to, so he settled for a smile and a, “Thanks for the ride, Harry.”
Harry grinned back. “Good luck.”
Louis prayed he wouldn't need it.
When he met Harry by the janitor's closet during their lunch break as per usual Monday routine for them, he felt like being contrary.
“'ve been thinking 'bout this all day,” Harry muttered as soon as Louis was in front of him. He leaned in without a thought and began mouthing at his neck. Louis bit back a moan, instead pushing Harry toward the closet.
“Not in the hallway, Harry, gosh,” he whispered, making a show of pulling his neck away from Harry's mouth. Contrary.
He heard Harry give a loud grunt, felt his hands on his hips as he pulled Louis back into the room with him. Louis wondered when this became normal. “We just had sex a day ago, you're acting like it's been forever.”
“Close enough,” Harry murmured, and it was clear he was done with conversation. But Louis was still feeling stubborn, so when Harry's mouth nipped at his jaw and trailed to his lips, Louis turned his head so Harry's lips connected with his cheek instead. He suppressed a laugh at Harry's, “What the fuck?”
“I don't want to,” Louis whispered simply. “Ever think of that, babe?”
“Bullshit,” Harry replied, but he wasn't making a move to push Louis any further; if anything, he looked painfully hopeful at most. Louis felt a burst of pure fondness flow through him.
“Mm,” Louis hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He gave Harry a sideways grin, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He raised an eyebrow almost challengingly at Harry, and Harry finally realized Louis wasn't serious.
“I've already got your virginity,” he said, brushing Louis' hair from his face. “Not much else to be nervous about, is there?”
He accentuated his words by reaching behind Louis and grabbing two handfuls of his arse, hitching Louis up until he was on his tiptoes. Despite his best efforts, a whimper escaped his mouth. “No,” Louis murmured, keeping his head downcast to avoid staring at the smug look undoubtedly spread across Harry's face. “Fuck, I've had enough, touch me.”
“But you don't want me to,” Harry replied—Louis didn't understand how the tables had turned so quickly, but he didn't much care at this point. Now he just wanted Harry to touch him and to touch Harry. He didn't think it was too much to ask for.
“Touch me,” Louis murmured as his hands found the button of Harry's jeans. The jokes seemed to be dropped when Harry's hands snuck up from his bum to the small of his back, caressing it. He tapped his fingertips against the skin; Louis could only groan.
“Convince me you really want it,” Harry murmured, and it was always a game with him, wasn't it? He seemed to thrive on getting Louis to beg and plead for him—his mouth, his hands, his cock. Louis wouldn't have a problem if it didn't mean he'd have to wait.
Louis dropped to his knees less than gracefully, but they were in a fucking janitor's closet and finesse wasn't his main concern. He tugged the button of Harry's jeans open a bit rougher than probably necessary, was even more careless when he pulled them to his knees, but Harry didn't comment and Louis was too far gone to care. When he spied Harry's erection threatening to burst from its fabric confines, Louis found comfort in the knowledge that Harry was just as desperate as he was.
He allowed himself a quick grope to Harry's crotch, smiling internally at Harry's quiet groan. His fingers slipped their way into Harry's boxers, pulling them down to meet his trousers around his thighs. He grabbed Harry's cock and wrapped his lips around the head, sucking with intent.
He felt Harry's hands tangle into his hair, soothing against his scalp as Louis took him further. Louis couldn't help but hum around him and suck harder, his hands finding their way to Harry's hips and pulling him closer.
Harry moaned lowly, leaning his head back against the wall as Louis worked his mouth around him. Louis liked to think he'd gotten better at blow jobs in the past few months, what with how often he found himself on his knees in front of Harry in practically every place they could get each other alone.
Louis hollowed his cheeks, took Harry down until he couldn't take anymore. When he pulled off, Harry let out an absolutely filthy groan.
Louis sat back on his heels, looked up at Harry challengingly while he kept his fingers digging into his sides. Harry looked down at him, blissed out and positively radiating with the need to come, but opposed it all when he muttered, “I'm not very convinced.”
After that, Louis became a lot more involved in whatever Harry was playing at. He licked up the entire length of Harry's cock and sucked on the head without going any further. He let a hand drop from his hips to his balls, massaged at them gently with his lips pressing soft kisses up and down his cock.
“Lou,” Harry grunted—it sounded like a whimper, almost—but Louis didn't stop. “Louis.”
Louis wrapped a hand around the base of Harry's cock, gripping tight enough to prevent Harry from coming. Harry picked up on it easily, tapping the back of Louis' head until Louis looked up. When they met eyes, however, Louis took the tip back into his mouth while maintaining his hold on Harry.
“Louis, you—” Harry cut off, panting loudly. “Fuck, I swear—”
Louis chose that moment to pop off once again, jacking Harry slowly as he spoke. “I'm not letting you come until you touch me.”
Harry groaned, tugging at Louis' hair softly but insistent. “Come here then.”
Satisfied, Louis rose from his knees and connected his lips with Harry's, biting his lower lip and pulling. Harry's moan fed straight into Louis' mouth; he eagerly took it in, gaining courage as he kissed him. Harry's hand slid from Louis' hair to his sides to his bum and back—Louis was losing it.
“Get your cock out,” Harry murmured against Louis' skin. Louis obeyed, but not without a snide remark of, “Eloquent.”
“Worked, didn't it?” Harry retorted sharply, burying his face into Louis' neck and nipping; it was his favorite thing to do with Louis, he assumed. Louis could only tilt his head back and take it as he's grown accustomed to doing, pulling down his pants to meet his trousers around his thighs.
“Fuck,” Louis grunted out as Harry's hand wrapped around his thigh to pull him closer, forcing their cocks to grind against each other in the most delicious way. Louis nearly lost his balance with how quickly the pleasure washed over him, but Harry's hold kept him steady.
“Closer,” Harry replied, tugging Louis the last few centimeters until he could wrap his hand around both of their cocks, shit. Louis gasped; this was definitely new. “How's that feel?”
Louis couldn't formulate any words, all sound escaping him in groans and whines. He didn't think it could get much better than this, but then Harry started moving his hand and jacking them off, together. Louis couldn't think.
“Fuck my hand,” Harry said breathlessly a moment later, tightening his fingers around their dicks. Louis bit his lip, but he didn't need to be told twice.
As he thrusted into Harry's hand the first time, he thought, fuck, it could get better. He was practically fucking Harry's hand right next to Harry's cock, and everything was in overdrive. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of, Harry, close, shit, fuck, Harry, Harry, Harry.
“I know,” Harry said against Louis' skin, and Louis realized he'd voiced his thoughts without meaning to. He didn't have the time to feel embarrassed for letting Harry know how desperate he made him (he supposed Harry knew anyway), instead focused on the way their cocks were sliding together in Harry's hand. “Come on, Louis. Let go.”
Harry's words seem to coax the orgasm straight from Louis' body. He fell forward, hips still gyrating slowly into his hand until he felt Harry's come splash onto his stomach. Louis bit against Harry's collarbones, sucking and licking the skin until he felt he was sufficiently calmer.
It wasn't until Harry grabbed a roll of paper towels and began wiping up their mess (advantages to having sex in the janitor's closet, while the disadvantages were basically everything else) that Louis got unsatisfied.
“Do you think—um,” he began, watching Harry's hand slow against his stomach as he spoke. “Stay here.”
Harry took a moment, finishing up Louis' body before discarding the paper towels and looking up to meet his eyes. “Why?”
Louis didn't really know an honest answer that wouldn't involve him being emotionally vulnerable, so he settled for a guilt trip. “You've already got my virginity. And you made me suffer through the most awkward talk I've ever had with my mother in my entire life. The least you can do is stay in a closet with me for ten fucking minutes.”
Harry wanted to comment on how Louis was just as much at fault with both of those incidents, but instead, he muttered, “Yeah, I suppose.”
He made his way into a somewhat sitting position, legs open and inviting in a completely different way than they had been before. Louis seated himself between them, albeit carefully.
It felt awkward for the first few moments—Louis didn't know if cuddling was a place they were allowed to go to or not, but the second Harry put a hand on his arm and rested his head on his shoulder, Louis relaxed.
“What's this about the awkward talk that's apparently all my fault?”
Louis continued to explain how his mother hadn't been as thick as he'd hoped for the day before; as soon as she saw Louis getting out of Harry's car, she was jumping all over him. When she noticed the shirt on Louis' back, noting how it was too big and she definitely remembered him wearing something else the night before, she was confused. When Louis wasn't paying attention and practically put his neck full of bite marks on display, it all clicked with her. That was the point she demanded a more personal talk, and also the point Louis decided his story was over.
He didn't tell Harry how his mother had put a hand on his shoulder and smiled as bright as ever, chirped out a, “I knew you'd end up together.” He also didn't tell him about how he'd gotten a much more detailed version of the sex talk with much more contact than he'd have liked. He especially didn't tell him how he hadn't really corrected her, and how that hadn't all been explicitly for the sake of his knowledge that she wouldn't believe his denials at this point.
“I'm sorry,” Harry whispered, a smile on his face but he sounded like he meant it. “Did you tell her anything else? About us?”
He sounded hopeful, maybe. Louis drew his bottom lip between his teeth—partial truth was better than no truth, right? “She thinks we're dating now, and nothing I can say will change her mind.”
He felt Harry's breath on his neck. “I guess that's her choice then,” a pause. “If there's nothing we can do to change her mind.”
Louis ignored the minute tugging in his chest when he said, “Yeah. She'll see soon enough.”
Even though he knew it was a stretch, Louis hoped they were on the same page.
“Would you ever consider dating Harry Styles?” Liam asked in class later that day. Louis bit his lip; he definitely wasn't expecting that question of all questions from Liam, but he guessed he should've been.
“No,” Louis said passively, hoping one word was good enough. He didn't need this talk now after the confusing time spent in the closet today, and he especially didn't need it from Liam.
“Really? Because you seem to like him quite a bit,” Liam countered, sounding almost accusatory. Louis wondered if he could evade him long enough for the teacher to begin the lesson. With a long sigh, Louis began to speak.
“We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date,” he finished, giving Liam a look to tell him he was through with the conversation. Liam looked fairly prepared to argue, but the teacher was beginning the lecture and Liam was much too good of a student to talk during class. Louis thought (or hoped, really) it was the end of the talk. For good.
Louis should've known he couldn't hide it forever.
Liam had ran to catch up with him as he walked out of school that day and to his car, not even a full five minutes after he'd just snogged Harry senseless against some lockers in a secluded corner. Louis was still a little high off of that as it was—he couldn't have picked a worse time for Liam to decide to come say hi than right then.
“You went to that party,” Liam said as soon as he caught up. It took Louis a moment to understand what was wrong about that statement, and then he remembered who he was supposed to be.
“And you went upstairs with Harry,” Liam replied. Louis froze. “Did Niall tell you?”
“I wasn't even surprised when he did,” he said in answer. Louis didn't know what to make of the statement. Just as he was about to voice his thoughts, Liam began again. “You've been showing up to school every day with fresh love bites more often than not, and you're always suspiciously late to come to lunch anymore. Harry's been doing the exact same thing.”
Louis was caught. He was caught and he knew it and Liam was probably going to hate him forever now. “It's not—”
“As if all of that wasn't enough,” Liam interrupted him, “Niall comes up to me today and accidentally lets it slip that at Zayn Malik's party, he told him all about how he'd bitten your neck and gotten Harry to take you upstairs. Apparently, that's not a rare occurrence at all, and I'm a lot less in the know than I thought.” He took a breath then, sighing to himself. “Look, you made it pretty obvious that you and Harry were—something. I was going to wait on you to tell me yourself, but it's been months and you haven't said a word.”
Liam was hurt—fuck, Louis had hurt him by not telling him when he thought he was doing the exact opposite by keeping quiet. He didn't mean for that to happen. “I'm sorry,” Louis mustered, not knowing where to begin with his explanation; was there an appropriate place to start telling your best friend about how you'd been fucking someone you were supposed to hate behind his back for nearly three months?
“Tell me why,” Liam said calmly—much calmer than Louis would've been, had the roles been reversed. “Why you went for him of all people, why you lied to me about it, and why you didn't tell me you were going to that stupid party so we could've suffered together.”
Louis grinned as soon as the words left Liam's mouth, ready to attack him in a hug and tell him how he was the greatest best friend ever, but he'd asked questions and Louis had already fucked up enough today. The least he could do was give some answers.
After talking him into getting into his car with him for a more private setting, Louis explained to him about it all—how he'd tried his best to keep away from Harry but he was persistent, and how he thought Liam would've hated him if he knew what was going on (Liam had taken personal offense to that. “Do I really seem like the type of shit friend to that?”). He told him how they did stuff, a lot (but not in any detail, because then Louis would absolutely die), and how his mother had met him and she adored him and how Harry was nothing like what he'd imagined.
“And I think—I might,” Louis coughed; this was going to be the hardest bit to say aloud, mainly because he hadn't so much as thought it when he could help it. “I might—more, maybe.”
“More?” Liam questioned, and did he really have to choose now to be thick?
Louis groaned, hitting his head against the head rest and sighing. “I think I might want to, like. Not just be a sex thing.”
It was definitely not Louis' most coherent sentence, but Liam seemed to understand. Louis was thankful he didn't have to say it again.
“Aren't you?” Liam asked incredulously, and Louis shook his head automatically. “Wait. You're not together?”
“Not outside of whatever we're doing is,” Louis replied, and his mind was screaming at him to shut up now before he said something he'd regret. He stayed quiet.
“But you want to be?” A nod. “And you're worried about asking him, right?” Another nod. “Louis. Seriously? You're basically doing everything a couple does except calling yourselves a couple.”
“We're not—” Louis looked out the window; emotions sucked, really.
“You're not what? Honestly, I'd love to hear,” Liam said dryly, turning toward Louis in his seat. “Louis Tomlinson. You gave this boy your virginity, you let him meet your mum, you went to a fucking party for him, and just a few months ago you'd been ready to shove him off of a cliff.” He paused, allowing time for it to sink into Louis' mind. “I can't say I understand or that I really like it, but you obviously like him for some reason and I'd be a terrible friend if I told you not to go for it. So,” he said reluctantly, “Go for it.”
“You know Harry,” Louis argued, his voice rising as he spoke. “You know he doesn't do relationships.”
“Does that honestly match up with what you've told me? How you've seen him?” Louis was quiet. “Just. Fuck, Louis, just go and talk to him and I promise it'll work out. Okay?”
When Louis looked at his friend, he knew there was no room for any answer other than, “Okay.”
It was easier said than done.
A week passed since his talk with Liam, and Liam had asked him about his progress every day. Louis couldn't tell him that he'd sucked Harry off on his bed last night, or that he'd let Harry use his hand on him until he came all over himself, so his general answer was always, “Tomorrow.”
On the following Tuesday, Liam seemed to have taken matters into his own hands.
Harry knocked on his door around five in the afternoon, and Louis answered with a look of confusion. Usually Harry texted him before he showed up, and he rarely came when he knew Louis was babysitting the girls (even though they'd mentioned on countless occasions how they really liked having him around).
“What's so urgent?” Harry asked as soon as the door was open. His motorcycle was parked a bit haphazardly in their drive, his hair was still a bit mussed from his helmet that he'd begun to wear per Louis' request, and his phone was gripped tightly in his hand. All Louis could think to say was, “What?”
“You just texted me,” Harry began, “and said I needed to come over as soon as I could for a talk. You typed it formally, which was weird, so I figured this was the time you were finally going to tell me you were tired of what we've been doing and end it. So go ahead and do it. Rip off the band aid.”
Louis felt his heart ache painfully; so that's just how much this meant to him, then. Little enough that he could handle Louis telling him to go away and move on, just like that. He bit his lower lip, saying, “I haven't seen my phone since lunch today.”
“But you—you texted me,” Harry argued, seemingly confused. Louis would've found it cute had Harry been here for any other reason.
“Liam probably took my phone,” Louis said in answer. Honesty seemed to be his only option anymore, especially if Liam was willing to steal his fucking phone to get him to talk to Harry. “I didn't send you anything.”
“Oh,” Harry muttered, his face heating up. “Um.”
Louis swallowed the lump in his throat as he said, “But I did want to talk to you.”
“Oh,” Harry repeated. “What about?”
Louis looked back to his sisters, then at Harry. “Lottie, can you watch them for a bit?”
“Sure,” she answered and Louis was sure she would ignore them unless it was a life or death matter, but if he didn't get Harry up to his room and talk to him now, he probably never would.
“Harry,” he said, gesturing to the stairs. Harry seemed reluctant to go—probably because every other time he'd gone up them, he was naked about five minutes later and this time, Louis seemed serious. Louis considered it a win when Harry made his way to his room anyway—slowly, but surely.
Harry began to go for the bed like he always did, but thought better and stopped; Louis sighed and muttered, “Go ahead.” Harry sat down wordlessly.
Everything was so much easier when they were just limited to fucking and kissing and touching and ignoring everything else. But if Louis didn't say something now, he probably never would. As it was, he felt like he could absolutely burst with his need to tell Harry what went through his mind when they kissed and when they touched and when they fucked and especially when they were ignoring everything else. He didn't think he could survive.
“Louis?” Harry asked after a moment of silence.
“Harry,” Louis answered, and the name felt so good coming off of his tongue; he liked saying it between kisses and moans, he liked saying it angrily when Harry was being a wanker, he liked saying it period.
That was his final push.
“I like to say your name,” he murmured, and Harry probably thought he was an absolute loon, but he didn't stop. “I like to touch you before we have sex, then after, and sometimes when sex isn't even on our minds but it seems like it always is—it's always sex with us and I fucking love the sex, but I want there to be more. I want to kiss you because I want to kiss you, I want to give you compliments because I mean them and not because I'm hoping to get you naked, I want to invite you over to my house any time of any day just because I want you to be here, not so we can fuck quietly in my bedroom and hope we don't get caught. I want to do so much more with you than make you come but you're—” Louis sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “You seem to be on the other side of the fence here, but I can't just keep doing this stuff if it's going to keep being meaningless.”
Silence. Instead of crying like he really wanted to do, words kept tumbling out of his mouth.
“I like you a lot, Harry—even when you're being such a prick and teasing me and telling me to shut up. I like you when you text me and when you give me nicknames and when you tell me I'm gorgeous and when you make me go to stupid parties because you bribed me with a blow job and when you—fuck, when you do anything, I like you so much and I thought it was so stupid but I can't just. I just can't do it anymore, if you're only here for a fuck. And maybe that's selfish, but—”
“God, shut up, Louis,” Harry interjected; it was cruel for him to say after what Louis had just told him, really. “Shut up and let me—just—be still.”
Harry stood up and kissed Louis—it wasn't their usual kiss where it began like an innocent peck and quickly turned into something much more sensual, but more like the way Louis imagined Prince Charming would've kissed Cinderella. He didn't know why a Disney analogy of all things was what he compared it to, but he couldn't find it in him to care because he'd just spilled all of his embarrassing thoughts about Harry to Harry and Harry was kissing him.
Harry's hands held onto his hips while Louis' instinctively wrapped around Harry's neck. He perched himself up on his tiptoes and threaded his fingers through Harry's hair. Louis knew he couldn't be doing something wrong; this felt much too right to be wrong in any way.
Harry's grip stayed strong even after their lips disconnected. He rested his forehead against Louis', breathing against his mouth as he said, “You're so thick.”
Louis didn't have it in him to fight Harry on it, too high from kissing Harry like he had to care for much of anything besides his mouth and his hands and his Harry. ”I liked it better when you were kissing me.”
“I liked it better when you were babbling out compliments,” Harry argued, and Louis couldn't think of anything to do other than kiss him again, so he did.
Again and again.
They decided to come out publicly two weeks later.
Harry had been set to snog Louis in the halls between class changes as a way of letting everyone know that they were an actual thing now, but Louis wanted to have a solid week to themselves to get used to things before they did anything stupid (like snog in the halls between class changes).
The weeks passed in a flourish—Harry spent most of his time at Louis' and they went on a (sort of) first-date that leaves Louis feeling giddy and adored. And then they go on a second date, and a third, until it seems like they're attached at the hip. It felt entirely too comfortable, but Louis was content with it.
Exactly two weeks after they'd first gotten together, Harry drives Louis to school.
There's talk of Harry going for that drama twink as they walk past, and Louis would be lying if he said he wasn't completely endeared and a little turned on by the way Harry would pull him closer and glare at the other students. He looked nearly ready to kill until Louis would stand on his tiptoes and tell him something cute or nibble on his ear to regain his attention. Harry would then smile and squeeze Louis' hip and keep walking like nothing had happened.
When they got to Louis' locker, Liam was leaning against the wall beside of them. He greeted them both with a smile and a nod; Louis had doted on Harry in their conversations to the point that Liam couldn't hate him even a bit. They still didn't talk if Louis wasn't there, but it was a start and Louis couldn't have asked for anything better.
“So that's it?” Liam asked, gesturing between the two of them. “You're going to walk together and let 'em assume?”
“There's not much else to do,” Louis shrugged, smiling when he reached for his locker and Harry's fingers lingered at his side, drawing barely-there circles into the skin. “Not like it's anyone else's business anyway.”
“Mm,” Harry hummed in agreement. “He already rejected my idea.”
“Because some things are meant to stay private,” Louis answered, blushing at the thought; after he'd refused to make out with Harry against the lockers as a form of coming out, Harry had suggested taking Louis' blossoming exhibitionism kink up a notch. It was a joke—one curated for the explicit purpose of getting a reaction from Louis, but a joke nonetheless.
“Right,” Liam mumbled, coughing to cover up the awkward turn the conversation had taken. “Will you be joining us at lunch today, Harry?”
Harry turned up the corner of his lips in a smile. “I suppose, yeah,” he said. “Might bring Zayn along, if you don't mind.”
“Just as long as Nick stays away,” Louis whispered. After what he'd seen at the party, no amount of he's just a friend and you'd get along great could convince Louis to be anything but politely cold to the lad. Harry found it funny; one mention of Nick's name and he'd be guaranteed a very jealous and slightly possessive Louis Tomlinson in his lap.
“I think I'll side with Louis on that one,” Liam replied, crossing his arms. “Still seems like a bit of a knob to me.”
“I'll bet Louis put that in your head.” Harry nudged Louis' side with his elbow, giving him a small form of a smirk. Louis rolled his eyes and shut his locker door, putting Harry's arm back around his shoulder and muttering in his ear, “You're making me jealous.”
“Am I?” Harry asked, feigning innocence. Louis gave him a look that Harry recognized as a mixture of you're a prick and I'm quite fond of you. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't used to it by now.
“See you at lunch,” Liam murmured, walking away from the pair in a bit of a rush.
“You ran him off,” Louis grunted, slotting into Harry's side.
“Sure I did. Had nothing to do with your little whisper a second ago.”
“Which was also your fault.”
Harry sighed mockingly. “Of course.”
Louis felt content.
He felt content when Harry kissed him between every class for the entire day. He felt content when Harry kept his hand secure around Louis every second they were together, whether it be on his hip or his shoulder or his arm. He felt content when both Zayn and Niall joined them during their lunch break (and when Liam actually extended his friendliness to both of them). He felt even more content when Niall invited them all over to his that weekend—”It's not a party,” he'd assured—because he was literally so happy to see them all getting along that he thought a couple of celebratory pints were necessary.
He felt the most content at the end of the day when they were in the backseat of Harry's car and his thighs were straddling Harry's waist.
“Today was good,” he murmured, playing with the collar of Harry's jacket (that he'd worn per Louis' request). “You're publicly tied to me now.”
Harry smiled softly, tilting his head to place a kiss to Louis' hand. That was something Louis was a bit taken aback on—it turned out that Harry could be romantic to the point it was almost cheesy. Louis couldn't wait to see how far he might take it. “You're publicly tied to me.”
“Tied to each other,” Louis settled for, practically beaming down at the place Harry had kissed. He couldn't help but lean in to kiss him on the mouth and breathe in the sweet taste of Harry's tongue.
“On another note,” Harry murmured against Louis' mouth, taking a pause while Louis continued his work on his jaw. “I wouldn't mind tying you up.”
Louis shivered visibly, slumping against Harry's chest and kissing the underside of his chin. “So bondage is a kink for you?”
Harry grinned. “Not like I'd need it. You're pretty obedient,” he whispered, running his fingers along Louis' sides. “You wouldn't touch if I told you not to.”
“Would I, now?” Louis answered, looking up at Harry from his shoulder and smirking. He sat up straight once again, making sure to press his crotch against Harry's. “Go on then. Tell me not to touch.”
It was a game—one Louis started, for once—and they both knew it. It was obvious what Louis was going to do no matter what. Harry rocked his hips up just the slightest. “But I'd rather have you do the opposite.”
Louis' mouth formed an 'O' shape as Harry began mouthing against his neck soothingly, but with purpose. He groaned. “On you or myself?”
“Hmm,” Harry hummed thoughtfully. “Why don't you strip while I think about it?”
Louis huffed because of course Harry would find a way to turn the tables the second Louis was the one doing the teasing. He didn't really think he minded.
Louis began slipping off his shirt, silently thankful that they'd wasted a good twenty minutes of time with talking and kissing so the parking lot was mostly deserted by now. He darted his eyes from the tinted windows to Harry, biting his lip. He didn't know just how stripped Harry meant.
Luckily, Harry reached for the button of his jeans. “Lube's in the dash,” Harry said, pulling Louis' trousers down to his knees. “Think you can get it?”
Louis could get it, but then he'd have to put his bum a few inches from Harry's face. He knew Harry wouldn't mind, but he didn't trust him not to do something that would make Louis fall face-first into one of the seats.
“Don't touch my arse,” Louis warned as he shifted to his knees and crawled forward just the slightest to reach the lube. Harry's hands waivered until coming to rest on the middle of Louis' thighs. “But it's tempting.”
“Harry—” Louis began again, a seemingly innocent peck to his left cheek through the boxers causing him to cut off. It seemed harmless enough, but from experience, Louis knew that every time Harry's mouth came near his bum it was never harmless.
Louis' hands closed around the lube just as Harry began teasing the waistband of his pants; he dropped to his elbows and waited for whatever was to come, sighing to himself when Harry said, “Pass me the lube.”
Louis knew where Harry's mind was because his was in the exact same place, so he handed him the bottle wordlessly—he'd have to ask him why he had lube stored in his car of all places after this was over—and returned to his previous position. He shivered when Harry oh-so slowly pulled his boxers to his knees and moaned helplessly when he heard the bottle of lube opening.
“Don't tease,” Louis pleaded, his neck giving and allowing him a perfect view of his own cock, hard and wanting, between his thighs. “Can't handle you teasing me now.”
“Calm down,” Harry whispered, running his hand from Louis' sides to his arse to his thighs soothingly. He placed a kiss on his lower back. “Just be patient,” he murmured, and just as soon, Louis felt the tip of his index prod inside of him.
“Thank God,” Louis muttered, feeling Harry's breath brush against his skin from behind him in a laugh.
It didn't take long for Harry to work up to a second finger; he began scissoring them both in rhythm with Louis' whimpers. Louis grinded against the fingers shamelessly, biting his lip between every noise that left his lips.
But Louis missed the feeling of being full—full of Harry, specifically. The sex had always been great before, but it was decidedly better since it'd become more than just that. Louis couldn't help being needy.
“More, Harry. Please,” he tacked on for emphasis. Harry's lips connected with his skin before Louis heard his whispered reply of, “I've got you, Lou,” and another finger pressed inside of him. Louis pushed back against it as well, feeling like Harry was going much too slow to be satisfying.
Which was why he decided he should set the pace himself.
“'arry,” he slurred, rising from his elbows. “Fingers out of my arse, 'm riding you.”
“Shouldn't we discuss this?” Harry teased, burying his fingers even deeper inside of Louis. “I like slow.”
“Then let me make it slow,” Louis said desperately, and he knew it probably didn't make a lot of sense, but he was desperately horny and definitely not above begging. It'd been proven on numerous occasions that Harry was just as needy for Louis as Louis was for him—he didn't doubt that he could have Harry begging just as easily, but he figured he could try that out another time.
“Fine,” Harry hummed noncommittally, but as soon as Louis could see his face properly, he could tell it was a front. He made a mental note to call him out on it later.
Louis slid from his position with minimal difficulty, kicking off his boxers as he turned to face Harry. He straddled Harry's thighs, bracketing him in with his knees on either side of him and groaning when he was met with clothing. “Couldn't have the courtesy to take off your trousers, could you?”
“Like watching you struggle,” Harry replied with a small smirk. He reached for the button of his jeans anyway, gesturing for Louis to lift his hips so he could slide them off. Louis found himself groaning, muttering, “All the places we've fucked, and a car turns out to be the least conventional.”
“Don't bash my car,” Harry answered curtly, grunting when he couldn't get his trousers any further than his knees. “Fuck, shit, damn it, fuck—”
“Shh,” Louis whispered, resuming his position on Harry's lap and leaning in to kiss him hungrily. He kept one hand on Harry's jaw, the other blindly searching for the lube. When his fingers finally wrapped around the bottle, he let out a breath of relief that went straight into Harry's mouth. “I'll handle it, babe.”
He didn't know when using pet names during sex became the norm for himself, but Harry seemed to calm enough that Louis could lube up his hand and wrap it around Harry's cock. He stroked him meaningfully, adding enough pressure in just the right spots to get Harry whining—actually whining right against Louis' neck. Harry's hips bucked up into his hand, causing the head of his cock to rub against Louis' arse with the awkward angle they had found themselves in.
“God,” Louis murmured, removing one of his hands to wipe on his thigh so he could grab Harry's necklaces and yank him in for a kiss. Harry's hands went from Louis' sides to his thighs, resting there seemingly calmly. Louis pulled on the edge of his shirt, lifting it up to Harry's underarms before Harry took the hint and threw the clothing over his head.
Louis panted into Harry's mouth, using the hand still wrapped around Harry's length to give him a warning squeeze before directing it to his hole and sinking down.
“Oh,” Louis let out; they hadn't had sex, not like this. Not with Louis on top and controlling the pace, the roughness—it gave Louis a sense of accomplishment he hadn't known he'd wanted until that moment.
“Feel so good,” Harry groaned, ushering Louis' hips down with his hands. Louis complied, sinking his body further down until Harry's hips were flush against his bum cheeks. He couldn't handle it, the fact that he was riding Harry in the back of his car in the school fucking parking lot—it was so dirty, but so good.
Louis moaned breathlessly, latching his lips onto Harry's pulse point as he rocked his hips forward experimentally. Harry's hands hadn't found solace the entire time, running from Louis' neck in a caress down to Louis' bum in a grope, but he finally rested them both on the small of Louis' back and urged him forward. Louis arched into the touch, his spine curving until his front was flush with Harry's and Harry could thrust up like he'd wanted to since this had started.
“Full,” Louis remarked, his breath fanning out across Harry's collarbones. “'m so full,” he finished, bouncing up only to drop back down. “Fill me up so well, Haz.”
Harry couldn't refrain from lifting Louis up in assistance, guiding him back down and grunting when Louis sunk his teeth into his neck in retaliation. “I'm doing this,” Louis said, rising up until only the head of Harry's cock was inside of him and at risk of slipping out.
“You can do whatever you'd like if you bite me again,” Harry teased, but it was obvious that he was serious and that he wanted Louis to hurt him just a little. Louis sucked around Harry's neck before finding the perfect spot to bite into and nipping his teeth along the flesh. Harry nudged his side, groaning impatiently and Louis could've sworn he felt his cock twitching. “Harder.”
Louis began swiveling his hips in slow figure eights and gave Harry's neck another teasing nip before he really bit into his skin and sucked. He felt Harry's hips thrust up subconsciously, hitting Louis' prostate spot-on; Louis whimpered, bringing Harry closer to his body and kissing every part of him he could reach.
“Lou, baby,” Harry laughed softly. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Louis melted as soon as the words left Harry's mouth, feeling loved and content and happy. He sat up straighter, playing with the curls at the base of Harry's neck as his boyfriend (boyfriend!) kissed from his chest to his neck and back again. He pinched Louis' nipples between his forefinger and thumb, relishing in the moans that left Louis' mouth as he did.
“Fucking—hell,” Louis swore, his thighs moving of their own accord as they forced his body up and down quicker than before. Harry leaned forward and encircled one of Louis' nipples with his teeth, biting harshly while he used his hand to pinch the other one. He eased his pressure on the both of them only to do it again twice as hard. Louis' hips stuttered, his cock trapped between their bodies.
As Louis began losing stamina, Harry made up for what he lacked by gently rolling his lower half upward to meet every one of Louis' feeble movements.
“You close?” Harry breathed out, one of his hands coming down to wrap around Louis' cock. Of course Louis was, especially with his hands on him like they were, his cock filling him to the brim like it was. Louis nodded weakly.
“Want you to come inside of me,” Louis mumbled. “Want to come from you filling me up—please.”
“You're going to kill me,” Harry said in response, kissing Louis deeply before he could reply. Louis started riding him harder, quicker, focused on getting Harry off and determined to hold off his own orgasm as long as it took.
“I'd rather have you alive,” Louis began out of nowhere. He wondered if he could talk Harry to an orgasm. “Makes it so much easier to get fucked. Nice and hard and rough.”
“Louis,” Harry said, voice wavering. “Oh—Louis, fuck.”
Louis slowed his relentless pace, his thighs nearly giving out beneath him. Harry groaned in frustration, gripping tightly onto Louis' hips to shift them in the seat so Louis was lying horizontally and Harry could do as he pleased.
“What happened to slow?” Louis questioned, his mind foggy and the only thing running through his mind was Harry.
“Too slow,” Harry answered simply, thrusting into the smaller boy in earnest. Louis knew in the back of his mind it was an excuse, but the thought was fucked right out of him. Harry began playing with his nipples once again, every moan and whimper leaving Louis' lips bringing him closer to his climax. “I'm so fucking close, Louis.”
“Harry,” Louis moaned out, urging him closer. “Harry, come, please.”
Harry gave one final shove into Louis, coming instantly. He started breathing heavier but still took the time to kiss along Louis' neck and collarbone. “Lou, babe, so good,” he praised, licking the shell of Louis' ear. He reached his hand between their bodies and tugged at Louis' cock until he cried out Harry's name and spilled all over his chest and Harry's hand.
“Nice,” Harry remarked, his body giving out and falling beside of Louis just as he pulled out. Louis was half hanging off of the seat because of it and was ready to let himself fall because he was much too weak after his orgasm, but Harry wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer to him. “That was really nice.”
“There's come all over the seat,” Louis retorted, but it was only half-hearted. When Louis turned to face his body toward Harry's and found the boy grinning as if he was satisfied, he could only smile in return.
I think I might love you, Harry Styles, Louis thought but didn't dare say aloud. But when Harry's grin stretched wider than before and he pressed a chaste kiss to Louis' lips, Louis was sure he read his mind and that was his form of, I feel the same.
They were crowded together in the backseat of a sex-reeking car with come sticking to their bodies and sweat-covered limbs, and Louis had never been happier.