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Makes Perfect

Harry's being a twat.

They're young, and in a boyband that's really famous, and rich (Louis's pretty sure that he's already made like, four million pounds this week), and they've got a boss flat and a day off and the time to finally finish watching the third season of Law and Order: SVU, and Harry's just sat curled up on the sofa in a proper sulk.

Louis refuses to rise to the bait on principle. He's been snacking in peace while Harry wallows, but the episode selection screen has been on the TV for about five minutes, and Harry's got the remote for the PS3. Patience has never been one of Louis's virtues, so he leans over and forcefully shoves a few crisps into Harry's mouth. Harry squawks and chokes a bit, flailing his long arms, and then blinks at Louis, who waits for him to chew and swallow.

"Pay attention to me," he demands.

Harry brushes a few crumbs from his lips. "Sorry."

"Uh huh," says Louis. He wipes his greasy fingers off on Harry's jeans. "Whatever. Why are you being so weird? You keep making sad fish face."

Harry looks intrigued. "Sad fish face?"

"Yeah, like this," Louis pushes his parted lips out, makes his eyes big. Harry grins.

"You look like Sebastian from The Little Mermaid."

Louis kicks him in the leg. "Push the button, will you?"

Harry picks up the remote, but instead of selecting an episode he twirls it in one hand. "You know, I went out last night."

"Bully," says Louis. He snatches the remote from Harry's hand and starts the next episode, ignoring Harry's frown. He had a date with Caroline last night, and clearly wants Louis to ask about it, but he takes nine million years to tell a story and Louis doesn't much care what Harry gets up to on his dates.

He lasts through another half hour of Harry's constant squirming and accidental-on-purpose elbowing and pointed waiting for Louis to pump him for information. But when Harry heaves another huge sigh, sounding positively tortured, Louis gives in with a roll of his eyes. "God, you arse, what's wrong with you? Didn't you get laid last night? Was it not good?"

"It was good," Harry answers immediately. "It was really good."

"Then what? Embarrass yourself or summat?"

"Hey," Harry protests, like he's offended Louis asks. Louis gives him a sharp, consoling smile.

"It's all right, Harold. Not every man is born with the gift of stamina."

"Fuck off, I have great stamina."

Louis nods solemnly. "Sure you do. What is it then? Couldn't get it up? Couldn't get her bra off?"

Harry snorts. "How'd you guess?"

Louis can't tell from his expression if he's serious or not. "Seriously?" he asks. "Her bra?"

"Don't look so shocked," Harry says, but he's biting the corner of his mouth to keep from smiling. "That claspy bit is hard."

Louis stares at him. "Didn't you go to high school?"

"I must've missed the course on removing women's underwear."

"So what'd you do? Just like," Louis motions crudely with his hips, "get it in without under the shirt stuff?"

Harry gives him a haughty look. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Bullshit. Don't be embarrassed, Harold. We're all here to learn. The first girl I slept with had to kinda show me how, too."

Harry laughs. "That sounds like exactly the sort of conversation I'd like to have with Caroline Flack."

Louis shrugs. "A friend, then?"

"I'm not going to tell anyone that I can't get a bra off, Lou," Harry argues stubbornly.

"Well that's just not true, is it?" says Louis. "You’ve told me."

Harry seems to consider that for a moment, and then shakes his head. "That's different, though. It's you."

Louis's cheeks heat up and his tummy feels warm, so he elbows Harry in the side and pokes him in the cheek. "N'aw. Hazza."

"Shut up," says Harry, turning back to the TV.

"What if you practiced on like, a mannequin?" Louis presses. "Or one of those blow up sex dolls? Or even just like, I don't know, a pillow or something. Whatever it'd fit around."

Harry tilts his head thoughtfully, curls catching the light so entrancingly that Louis finds himself reaching up to push his fingers through them. "It's different, though, innit? When it's a real person. A pillow won't snog me."

"Why should it?" says Louis. "You can't even take its bra off."

Harry yanks a hair out of Louis's leg and Louis squawks, grabs a throw pillow and beats Harry round the head with it. They end up on the floor, cushions fallen off the sofa, Harry's glass of water spilt on the carpet, both a little bruised and catching their breath. Harry's still half-laughing from Louis tickling him, rogue giggles, and Louis slumps down on top of him and stays there until Harry says he has to wee, and they pick themselves up off the carpet.

They make it through another episode of Law and Order SVU, but he doesn't pay it much attention, mind wandering. Harry's not exactly inexperienced. He certainly wasn't a virgin when Louis met him, anyway. When they get bras thrown at them on stage Harry always looks a bit spooked, sure, but that's because it's funny, right? There's no way he's gone this long as the person he is without figuring out how to get a girl out of her bra.

"I mean, really?" Louis asks him, even though they haven't said a word in almost an hour. "How have you not learned this yet?"

"What're you talking about?"

"It's a bra," Louis tells him. "Not rocket science."

Harry looks a bit surprised by Louis's insistence. Then again Louis is a bit surprised by Louis's insistence, so he reckons it's only fair. "I dunno. Just haven't, I guess." Harry's voice is slow, but Louis can't tell if it's any slower than normal.

"Well, I can't just let this go on, Hazza. I can't be seen with someone who doesn't know how to undo a bloody bra. I have a reputation to uphold."

"Louis Tomlinson, Prince of Bras."

Louis lifts an eyebrow. "Don't try and make jokes, Harry, you're not good at it."

"Oi!" Harry says, laughing, but Louis hushes him.

"You're going to practice on me."

Harry barks out a laugh. "What?"

"The bra thing," says Louis, holding his hands in front of himself to suggest huge and fantastic breasts. "You can just practice on me."

Harry seems momentarily speechless.

"I'm a great kisser," Louis tells him.

Harry finally turns his head to look at him properly, smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah? I dunno about that."

"Piss off. How else are you gonna learn?" Louis asks him. He doesn't know why he's pushing this so hard but he can't seem to stop. Maybe once Harry admits that he's full of shit, because he must be, Louis will let it go. Honestly, he's a bit curious to see how far Harry will take it. He barrels on, reckless. "You can just pretend I'm a girl, can't you?"

Harry goes very still for a second, eyes wide. Louis feels a flush of triumph, but then Harry says, "Well, but like. You'll just have a bra under your t-shirt? Like just like this?"

Louis lifts an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Casanova, would that break the illusion? D'you want me to dress up proper for you?"

"'Course not," Harry tells him, forcing a little laugh. He grips Louis's hand. "You wouldn't mind?"

He's trying to sound casual but he looks oddly intent, and Louis's stomach clenches, blood rushing to his cheeks. "'Course not," he parrots, smiling benevolently. "When do you see Caroline again?"

"Not 'til next Saturday," Harry answers. It's Friday now, but they've got rehearsal from tomorrow through Wednesday. Louis doesn't really know the finer details of Harry's relationship with Caroline, other than that Harry likes her and they still introduce each other as 'my friend'. Seems a bit mad to him that they're waiting a whole week to see each other again, but Louis's always been a dive right in sort of guy when it comes to being with a girl. Harry takes things slower.

"Thursday, then," Louis says. "Sound good?"

"You don't have to, like. It doesn't have to be that soon," says Harry. "We can do it whenever."

"Shut up," says Louis bossily. "We'll do it Thursday."

Harry searches Louis's face, and Louis's almost certain he's going to back out, but after a few moments he curls into Louis's side and throws an arm around his middle. "You're the best, Lou."

Louis sighs. "I know."

 

 

A few parcels arrive for Louis the next Tuesday. Harry peers at them curiously when Louis picks them up from the doorman on the way up to their flat after work.

"Don't be nosy," Louis scolds him.

"I'm not," says Harry. In the elevator, he hooks his chin over Louis's shoulder and reaches around him to grip the corner of the biggest box on the bottom and give it a shake. "What is it?"

"A snake," says Louis.

"It is not," Harry says, but he doesn't sound too sure. "You didn't buy a snake."

"That's what you think."

He takes the parcels to his room when they get into their flat. Harry looks suspicious when Louis comes back downstairs, but he doesn't ask again.

Before they go up to bed on Wednesday night, Harry lies down on the sofa they're sharing, rests his head in Louis's lap and pouts until Louis strokes his hair. "So, like, are we still on for tomorrow?"

"Well someone's eager to get under my top, aren't they?" Louis gives him a wet willy, but Harry isn't bothered.

"Mmhm, been wanking to thoughts of your tits for days."

Louis's face heats up and he's glad it's dark so Harry doesn't see. He snorts belatedly. "We're still on, you pervert."

Harry smiles happily, closing his eyes.

 

 

It's ten minutes until ten when Louis leaves his room in a small black skirt that rests high on his waist, a rose-colored cotton vest with sleeves open nearly all the way to the hem, knickers, a bra, and black high heels. Harry's door down the hall is closed but the light is on, so he must be in there instead of downstairs. Louis takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, shuffles down the hall as well as he can and knocks.

"I was just about to head downstairs and fi…" Harry trails off when he opens the door and sees Louis. His mouth opens, and then closes, and then opens again. Louis cocks his hip, pouts his lips out and bats his eyelashes like a sultry minx.

"Hiya," he says in sexy voice.

Harry doesn't laugh. He doesn't say anything at all, so Louis leaves him there in the doorway gawping at him, makes it four steps into Harry's room and decides the heels have go to go. He's never liked shoes anyway. He steps out of them and kicks them over for good measure, and then sits down on the edge of Harry's unmade bed, pressing his knees together daintily. The skirt is even shorter when he's sitting. Harry stumbles after him like he's magnetized, folding one leg up under himself when he sits next to Louis, the other foot curling toes into the carpet.

"Louis," he says. "You look."

He's staring so intensely that Louis's stomach flips nervously. He flicks his fringe out of his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. "You wanted it realistic," he reminds Harry.

"I didn't, like. You didn't have to—"

"Shut up," Louis tells him, covering Harry's mouth with both hands. "Aren't you glad I did?"

Harry nods, so Louis lets him go and watches his tongue swipe out to wet his lips. "God, yeah, you. God, Lou, you look. You look really pretty."

Louis laughs out loud, "Seriously?"

Harry scrunches his nose, still grinning. "Does that sound stupid?"

Yes. "No," Louis says, shaking his head fondly. "Idiot."

"Mm," Harry agrees. His arms are limp at his sides but his shoulders are a bit tense, and he keeps looking at Louis's legs and his chest and his mouth. He opens his mouth to speak three or four times but closes it again before he can get a word out. After nearly five minutes pass like that, Louis huffs an exasperated breath.

"Seriously, mate, is this how you usually get into her bed? 'Cause you must have some kind of like, magic vibrating dick if she keeps having sex with you and this is it."

Harry makes a face, red all the way down his neck. He's so lovely. "It's a bit weird, is all. You're…"

"Way out of your league? I know, mate," Louis says. Harry shakes his head, more like he's having trouble finding words than that he doesn't agree, and Louis bites back a fond smile and drapes his arms over Harry's shoulders. "But tonight I'm your girl, yeah?"

Harry makes a sound a bit like he's deflating, lets out a husky laugh. "Yeah, yeah. You're, um."

"And after our date, I've brought you up to my room, and you know it's gonna happen. So." Harry opens his mouth again, closes it. Louis touches his hair, which is a bit damp, like he's recently showered. "Hey, just. What do you usually do now? You said you're snogging, right? When you wanna let her tits loose."

Harry nods, threading his fingers through Louis's and holding on tight. "The other night she was, she was in my lap. Like, straddling my lap."

"Okay, good. Let's do that, then." He swings one leg over Harry's lap, towering over him for a second with his top brushing Harry's nose, and then sits on his knee. "Like this?"

Harry's staring unashamedly at Louis's legs, at the way his skirt is riding up and the hint of lace underneath. Louis's face feels like it's on fire, but he's determined not to squirm away. One of Harry's thumbs dips into the hollow of Louis's hipbone, rubs slow circles through his skirt. "Did you. Are you wearing… Did you shave?"

Louis scoffs, as though Harry's a moron to think otherwise. "Of course I did. How are you supposed to pretend I'm a girl if I'm all hairy everywhere."

"Everywhere?" Harry asks, eyes darting up to Louis's face.

So Louis may have gotten a bit carried away with this joke. He'd had to get online and order clothes, and from there he'd sort of spiraled. The knickers and bra had looked weird with hair sticking through them and his bare torso had looked weird with his hairy legs, so he'd shaved it all. The heels seemed essential for the optimum level of comedic effect, and the lipgloss was left over from the last time Lottie visited, just the icing on top. It's only just now occurring to him that maybe he's gone a bit further than most other people would have.

He loses the battle this time, has to look away and swallow back a small surge of humiliation. His dick is hard in his knickers. He clears his throat and makes himself meet Harry's eyes again. "Everywhere."

Harry swallows visibly, accidentally squeezing Louis's hips. "That's not fair."

It surprises a laugh out of Louis. "What?"

"Not all girls shave their legs, or like, under their arms, or anywhere else."

Louis rolls his eyes. "Well, this one does."

Harry's hands skirt up Louis's sides and into his pits, which are smooth and ticklish. Harry strokes his fingers there even though he can probably feel the film of deodorant. It's inexplicably, unbearably hot. "God," Harry murmurs. "You—"

"Are you gonna grope my pits all night or what?" Louis gripes, to cover the embarrassment that surges up.

Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, teethes at the plush of it. "Sorry."

Louis tugs on Harry's curls and his heart melts a bit when Harry leans into it sweetly. "So. I'm in your lap."

"Yeah. And we're usually. When I'm trying to get her bra off. We're usually, y'know."

His voice seems a lot deeper than usual. Louis's mind flashes back to the living room the other day, Harry saying 'a pillow won't snog me.' Harry slips one of his hands into the open side of Louis's top, curls his hand around Louis's ribs. Louis's taller than him like this, so Harry has to look up to line their mouths up. His breath is warm on Louis's face and Louis's heart is pounding. This whole thing suddenly seems a lot less like having a laugh. Louis's incredibly aware of his own lips. He holds his breath when Harry grazes their mouths together, not even a kiss, then makes a sound like a whimper and pulls back, breathing shakily. "I should. I should get the hang of it without snogging first, maybe."

Louis clutches Harry's shoulders, digs his bitten-down nails into Harry's skin through his t-shirt. "Sure, yeah. Good idea."

Harry's hand is warm and big, covers the whole breadth of Louis's back. His palm slides up Louis's spine. "Here, you're like, you're too—" He curls his other hand under the swell of Louis's bum and hauls him a bit closer. "Better. Sorry."

"Apologizing isn't sexy, Harold," Louis says.

Harry's fingers find the clasp of the bra and rub underneath it for a few moments. He's breathing on Louis's collarbone. "Don't laugh at me, okay?"

"No guarantees," Louis replies.

Harry snorts, but then his eyebrows draw together and he looks past Louis's shoulder, concentrating a lot more than he should really have to considering all he does is pull at the tabby part with barely any strength and let it go. Louis has to laugh at the exaggeratedly huffy breath he lets out.

"Is this funny to you?" Harry asks. He's a terrible liar, can't keep his face straight to save his life. "Forget it."

"It's pretty funny, yeah," Louis tells him. "And you're full of—"

Harry kisses him. Just puts his hand on Louis's face and tilts his chin down and snares his mouth like it's his to take. It's so unexpected that Louis doesn't even have time to react before Harry pulls away again, just enough to say, "Can I, with my tongue?"

Louis's thighs clench on either side of Harry's legs. "Yeah."

Harry's gotten rather good at this. He kisses Louis's lips again, and again, and then takes the bottom one between his teeth and swipes his tongue over it. Louis inhales sharply through his nose and pushes his fingers into Harry's hair, opens his mouth so Harry can lick inside. It's a good, hot kiss. Harry kisses like he touches, thorough and tender, so intimate it takes Louis completely out of his head. He's vaguely aware of the tug on the bra clasp and Harry's other hand on his knee, making its way at a crawl up Louis's thigh. When Harry takes his mouth away Louis follows after with an unhappy sound.

"Lou?"

"Nn?" says Louis, dazed. It takes a lot of effort to get his eyes open. Harry's wet, red lips are messy from Louis's lipgloss when they pull into a sly smile.

"I'm still, like. I can't get it." He pulls on the back of the bra again, and this time when he lets go it snaps against Louis's skin and Louis's hips shudder forward involuntarily, blood rushing to his dick. Harry's mouth twitches just enough to let Louis know he did it on purpose, and he blinks his big green Bambi eyes at him innocently. "Maybe if I could see properly? Like, if you take your top off. Maybe then I could."

Goosebumps break out across Louis's skin. "I, um. Yeah, I think. That's a good idea."

He slides his hands out of Harry's hair and Harry pulls his hand out of the side of his top, and together they lift the hem up and over Louis's head. The straps of the bra feel weird as he moves and his belly contracts, stomach fluttering with nerves. There's a crackle of static electricity when the cotton pulls over his hair. Harry’s eyes are locked on Louis's chest and his lips are parted, nostrils flaring a bit. He looks hungry in a way that has Louis's dick wet at the tip.

"I know they're not as big as hers, but you can pretend," Louis says with a tight little laugh. Harry shakes his head slowly, and slides his palms up Louis's sides to his flanks. Louis leans over a little so his pecs fill up the cups and Harry squeezes them together, just like he would a girl's, so it looks like Louis's got cleavage.

"They're perfect," Harry tells him reverently. "They're. God, Louis."

His thumbs slide along the underwire and then over the top. Louis's nipples are hard. When Harry touches them they tighten up even more and Louis gasps, lace rough over them. "Sensitive?" Harry asks breathlessly.

Louis nods, curling his hand around the back of Harry's head and holding onto his shoulder again, trying to balance. Harry tilts his chin up to kiss him again, little swipe of tongue over Louis's bottom lip, soft suction that makes Louis feel like he's spinning. Harry kisses the corner of his mouth and his jaw, noses along the line of his neck and breathes in deep. "You smell nice," he murmurs, his voice so slow he sounds drugged. He pinches Louis's nipples through the bra and Louis lets out a sound that's almost a whimper.

Louis scritches his fingers through Harry's thick curls and Harry sighs, breath hot and wet on Louis's skin. He presses a kiss to Louis's pulse point and wraps his arm under Louis's bum again, hauls him in closer. Louis can feel Harry's cock hard in his trousers right up against the underside of his thigh and he presses down into it thoughtlessly. Harry shivers, lets out a gasp and drops his forehead onto Louis's shoulder, squeezes his pecs together again.

"God, you've got such lovely tits," he says, lowering his mouth to kiss all along the cleavage. Louis hunches over him, thighs shaking, so turned on he's lightheaded.

"Harry," he says, the word strangled in his throat. Harry hums, scrapes his teeth where the top of the bra vees down to meet the other cup, and then kisses the small pink bow in the center. He slides a hand up Louis's back and pinches one of Louis's nipples as his tongues at the other, making a hungry sound deep in his chest when he closes his mouth around it. Louis closes his eyes, good feeling tingling like electricity through his body, embarrassed and horny. "Harry, Christ, you—"

Harry bites down just enough to sting and Louis breaks off with a whimper, shoves his hips in to rub his dick against Harry's belly. Harry makes a sound like he's gagging for it and switches sides, pinching Louis's nipple through wet lace and suckling at the other one, stroking Louis's back to his bum, over the swell of his skirt and then underneath it, big palm over Louis's arsecheek through his knickers. Louis wonders if this is how he treats Caroline, even if he can't get her bra off, just gets his mouth on her tits through it until she's bloody mad from it. Harry's mouth is so good, tongue so clever, with just enough bite to have Louis gasping. By the time he lifts his head the lace is just soaked, wet and cold on Louis's skin, and Harry looks dazed, cheeks blotchy. Louis touches their mouths together once, and again, cups Harry's jaw and kisses him until they're both breathless.

"What now?" Louis asks him, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. He tugs Harry's shirt up, leans back to pull it up over his head when Harry lifts his arms. "What do you. Does she ride you like this now?"

Harry's next breath is almost a sob, his hands clenching on Louis's arse, tugging him in closer. "Fuck, sometimes. When I'm this, like." It takes Louis a second to realize that usually-shameless Harry is genuinely embarrassed, and it's so hot Louis has to kiss him until Harry's voice comes out tight and thick when he speaks again. "When I'm so close like this she gets me off, first. So I can last longer when I get inside her."

Louis breathes open-mouthed against Harry's temple, chest heaving, feeling like he's going to burst into flame. Harry drags his hand up Louis's front, fingers at the underwire of Louis's bra and pulls back to look up at him. "Can I?"

Such a gentleman. Louis nods and Harry's teeth sink into his bottom lip, eyes on Louis's chest as he slips his fingers underneath Louis's bra. Louis's nipple is still wet, over-sensitive. Harry pinches it between his thumb and forefinger and Louis has to bury his face in Harry's hair to keep himself from saying something embarrassing like I like it when you play with my tits or suck it again.

"How's she do it?" Louis asks. "When she. The first time. Her hand?"

"Yeah, sometimes," Harry answers, and gasps when Louis drops his hand between them, palms over Harry's dick through his jeans. Louis's mouth is so wet he has to swallow before he can talk again.

"Or her mouth?"

"Louis," Harry groans, squeezing his eyes closed tight and twisting Louis's nipple, rutting up into his leg like he can't help himself. "God, yeah."

"Bit messy, innit? If she's wearing lipgloss."

"A bit," Harry rasps. He palms the soft of Louis's belly hidden under the skirt, and slips his fingers out from under Louis's bra. Louis squeezes Harry's cock one more time to hear the way Harry's breath catches, and then gets both hands between them to pull the button of his jeans loose, tug down his fly. He slides off Harry's lap and to his knees on the floor, tugging Harry's jeans off as he goes. There's a wet spot where the head of Harry's cock is tenting out the front of his black boxer-briefs. Louis's mouth floods again and he's so embarrassed his eyes feel wet.

"Louis," Harry says, touching Louis's face and hair. He lifts his hips when Louis pulls his pants down and his dick springs free, slaps against his belly, hard and just bloody massive. The foreskin's pulled back, precome blurting out the tip and Louis wets his lips, frowns when Harry cups a hand over himself and swears, his skinny thighs quivering. "You. You don't have t—"

"Shut up," Louis tells him. He bats Harry's hand away and wraps his own around the base, takes Harry's cock into his mouth. Harry squeaks, and Louis would laugh but his mouth is full, really full, lips stretching so much at the corners that it stings a bit. Harry's dick tastes like skin and it's hot on Louis's tongue, a big vein pulsing on the underside. Louis feels like he's fucking starving for it, wants to bury his nose in the patch of curls around the base and feel Harry in his throat. He goes down until he gags, which isn't very far, and then pulls off, frustrated. Harry looks like he's going to pass out. "Tell me when you're gonna come," Louis says, and takes a breath and pulls him in again.

"When," Harry says immediately. "Oh, oh fuck, Louis, I'm gonna. You can—"

Louis's barely got a chance to do anything and he doesn't even think about pulling off, doesn't want to. The girls who've had Harry's cock in their mouths probably didn't. Louis wonders if he comes this fast with them, too. Harry swears again, voice breaking, fingers tangled tight in Louis's hair and he jizzes just like that, Louis's hand on his leg and mouth on his cock. It's hot and salty and a lot, clings to his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Louis's mouth is full even after he pulls off. Harry watches dazedly as he swallows.

"God, c'mere. Are you—God," Harry babbles. He hauls Louis back onto his lap and kisses him, moaning brokenly when he tastes himself in Louis's mouth. Louis feels Harry's arms fold under his bum and then Harry's lifting him up, turning them around and tumbling Louis onto his back on the bed. Louis feels dazed, can still taste Harry's come on his tongue, just had Harry's prick in his mouth. Go big or go home, he thinks, and tries to hide his smile against his shoulder as Harry stretches out next to him on his side, pink-cheeked and earnest, holding Louis's face in his hands. "God, what was. Was that okay? You looked so."

"Finish a sentence, will you?" Louis says. He's so hot, and so bloody hard he can't think. He's still wearing the fucking bra and his skin feels too sensitive for it.

"Pretty," Harry says finally. He's got a hand rubbing at Louis's belly and fingering the zip on the side of the skirt. Louis holds onto Harry's shoulders and lifts his bum so Harry can slide it off, and Louis's left in his matching bra and knickers. Harry gets onto one elbow, grazes his knuckles down Louis's side, looks at him until Louis wants to squirm. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Louis blushes fiercely, feels the heat all the way down his body. He squeezes his eyes closed and pushes up into Harry's hand on him, clutching at the duvet and then at his own sides, every part of him over-sensitised. He turns his head to catch Harry's mouth again and open his legs so Harry can settle between them. Harry shimmies down until his head is level with Louis's chest. He rests his elbows on either side of Louis's ribs and nudges the bra up, underwire snagging on his nipples. "So gorgeous, babe," Harry murmurs, and Louis's feels himself flush with pleasure, embarrassed and flattered in equal measures. For once he can't think of anything to say, and instead grips Harry's arms and nudges their lips together again, kiss slow and sloppy until Harry breaks away to gaze hungrily at Louis's chest again. "Gorgeous," he repeats, grazing his knuckles over Louis's tits.

"Use your mouth again," Louis says, without meaning to, more of a plea than a command. Harry's eyes flutter closed for a moment, like he's overcome, like it's all he's ever wanted to hear Louis say. He closes his mouth around Louis's nipple and Louis clutches at his hair, his shoulder, tilts his head back and watches the ceiling fan spin lazily above them, digging his heels into the mattress. His nipples are so sensitive, his tits are so sensitive, have been as long as he can remember and they feel it even more now with Harry overtop him. "Fuck, Harry, sweetheart," he pants. "God, just, fuck, just like that."

Harry plays with his nipples until they're tender and puffy and Louis's writhing and he can't take it anymore. He pulls Harry up for another kiss, and there's lipgloss all over, sticky between their lips, catching in the light at the corner of Harry's mouth. Louis licks it away.

"Fuck, you've got me so—" He cuts off, too embarrassed to say it out loud, but Harry's right there with him, kisses him again before he presses his lips to the sensitive skin just in front of Louis's ear.

"Wet?" he asks. Louis inhales sharply, feels like he's going to come just from that. Harry's hand slides down his front, stopping at the waistband of Louis's knickers. "You are, yeah?"

Louis whines brokenly, mortified and somehow more turned on than he's ever been in his life. "Harry—"

"God, I bet you are," Harry says. He cups his hand over Louis's cock through the knickers, presses his heel in where they're damp near the top because Louis's so drippy. "Fuck, you're soaked for me, aren't you, love?"

Louis shakes his head, blushing fiercely, holding Harry more tightly all the same. "I'm—"

Harry noses along the line of Louis's throat, closes his mouth over the throb of Louis's pulse and leave a bruise there. "Wanna taste you," he breathes. Louis clenches his eyes shut, tucks his head into Harry's neck, gasping for breath, another pulse of precome soaking his knickers. "Fuck, wanna get my mouth on your pussy, get my fingers inside you."

Louis scrapes his teeth over Harry's shoulder and breathes out a dry sob, chest feeling wet and hot inside. He bites gently at Harry's bottom lip and whines again when their eyes meet, humiliation making him harder, wetter. "Do it," he pants. "God, fuck, Harry, do it, please, stop talking and do it"

Harry looks wide-eyed and hungry again, like he's surprised Louis's said yes. "Fuck. Fuck, yeah, I'm. Just."

Louis makes an unhappy sound when Harry pulls away to dig through the drawer of his bedside table. He comes back with a half-empty bottle of lube that has a packaged condom stuck to it, and before Louis can so much as make a sound they're kissing again.

It's sloppy and wet, so fucking messy. Louis fucking loves it. He coaxes Harry's tongue into his mouth and drags the tip of his own along the inside of it, sucks gently on Harry's bottom lip. Harry's hand dips between his legs again and palms him roughly, the drag of lace on Louis dick almost painful, but that just makes sparks of pleasure flare through him.

"Pretty," Harry says again, touching the black hem at the legs of Louis's knickers, which are the same soft pink colour of the bow on Louis's black bra. "Look so good in lace."

Louis looks away and rubs his cheek against the duvet, trying to catch his breath. He finds Harry's hand and squeezes it, grounding himself, opening his eyes at the touch of Harry's lips to his cheekbone. Louis holds Harry's gaze while he drags his hand back to his crotch, over the base of his dick and his balls. "Wet," he breathes, barely gets the word out. "'m so wet, Haz, 'm, I need."

Harry kisses him quiet, rubs his hand between Louis's legs and ruts against his thigh, big dick leaving a wet smear on Louis's leg. Louis rolls onto his front and puts his face in the pillow, fucking down against the mattress helplessly. He feels like he could come at any second, like he's gonna explode, but he wants what Harry said so bad it's like he can't. Harry grabs his hips and lifts them up away from the bed, hushes Louis when he whines unhappily. He struggles to his hands and knees, arms shaking.

"God, your fuckin'—Your arse, Lou, I'm." Harry's voice is so deep and hungry. He grabs Louis's arse in both hands and squeezes, kneads at it and pushes his arsecheeks together. He kisses down the line of Louis's spine, tongues into the dip at the small of his back. His breath through the lace is unreasonably hot. Does he do this with his girls? Get them up on their knees and eat them out from behind? Louis can feel his thighs clench up at just the thought. Harry mouths all along Louis's arse, through the lace, hot open-mouthed kisses. He slides one hand up Louis's front to grope at his tits, and dips the fingers of the other into the crease of Louis's arse, pushing the lace in. He's a goddamn fucking tease, and Louis's about to tell him so but he can't catch his breath when Harry's fingers snub up against his hole through the knickers.

"Shit," Louis gasps, sensation of being touched there by someone else far more intense than he expected it to be. "Shit, fuck."

"S'okay," Harry soothes, rubbing his fingers there again. It's dry and weird and it feels really fucking good. Harry pinches his nipple and tugs at the rim of his hole and Louis drops his head a bit, heart racing, arms threatening to give out. He can feel Harry's breath on his bum, in the cleft, right where his fingers are. Harry makes a needy sound in his throat. "Can't wait to—Wanna lick you out."

"You any good at it?" Louis hears himself croak.

Harry laughs breathily, rubs his cheek against Louis's bum. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm really. I love it. 'm good at it."

Louis knows he is, has heard him go down on a girl before through the wall. It takes him a long few moments to find his voice. "Get to it then, yeah?"

Harry kisses the middle of Louis's back, draws his bra back down over his chest and gets both his hands on Louis's arsecheeks again, pulls them apart. Louis's heart is pounding, body tight with nerves. He's only ever played with his own arse, never let anyone else. The first lap of Harry's tongue is tentative and jolts through him like lightning.

"Oh," he gasps, and when Harry licks in again, wetting the lace over Louis's hole, Louis goes lightheaded, drops down to his elbows and covers his face with his hands, cheeks burning bright red. He soaks Louis's knickers and hole with spit until Louis's biting into his own hand. "Please, fuck, Harry, baby, just please, please—"

He cries out when Harry's tongue breaches, pushes in, coated in lace, knickers pushed up inside him and he can't think, everything white hot and too good. Harry pulls back, makes a grumpy sound. "I want," he starts, but doesn't finish. He pulls Louis's knickers down just enough so Louis's dick is still caught up inside them but Harry can get at his hole, skin on skin.

Louis chokes on a sob, eyes prickling, mouth lax against his own arm. Harry makes a sound like he's never tasted anything so good in his life, fucks his tongue right inside. Louis's lost in it, quivering, slick with sweat. He has no idea when Harry picked the lube up off the bed but suddenly his tongue is gone and a slick finger is rubbing over him.

"You're so wet," Harry mumbles, tonguing in again, sinking his finger in. It feels weird and sexy and wrong and hot. He's always pictured it being a bit awkward, like it is when he occasionally pops the tip of his finger in when he wanks, never really considered that it might feel so fucking good. Harry strokes his back soothingly. "So fuckin—God, Lou, your pussy's so tight."

"Harry," Louis says feebly, shoving his face into the pillow, rocking his arse back onto Harry's finger.

"God, just look at you," Harry whispers. He sounds like it hurts. He pushes his finger all the way in and Louis whines, then cries out when Harry's tongue comes back, licks in next to it. Louis hears the sound of the cap click open and more lube drips down into the cleft of his arse, cold enough that it makes him shiver. Harry apologizes, kisses the back of Louis's thigh and then his bum and then his hole. "Can I? Another?"

"Yes, yes," Louis gasps, nodding into the pillow. It's too much and too soon. It burns and hurts and feels so good Louis can't believe he's never done this before. He lifts his shoulder up enough to work his hand over his chest, over his bra, tits filling up the cups again at this angle. He pinches his nipples and lets out a sob once Harry's got both fingers all the way in, the burn spreading all the way up his spine.

"Louis, fuck, Louis, you should see," Harry says, sounding wrecked. His fingers are clumsy and so long, pressing in with sharp jabs that make Louis curl up helplessly. He fucks his hips back into them, fucks himself on them, on Harry's tongue licking in between them. His fingers curl up suddenly and pleasure shoots through Louis sharp enough to make his whole body go stiff. Harry swears under his breath. "Jesus, what was—Was that good?"

He does it again, rubs his fingers inside curiously and Louis reckons it's safe to assume Harry's never had his fingers in another guy before, either. Louis's gonna come just like this, pinching his nipples through his bra while Harry fingers his arse. "I'm gonna come," he gasps.

"In your knickers," Harry says, breathing hard against Louis's lower back, fucking his fingers in. "God, yeah, gonna cream your knickers, Lou, so fucking hot, you've got no idea how hot you are."

He licks in again and Louis shoots off hard, like he's been waiting to for days, soaks his knickers with so much jizz they cling to his cock and balls and his hole clenches down around Harry's fingers and tongue, orgasm rocking through him in violent waves.

Harry kisses his back, withdraws his fingers gently, murmuring something Louis can't make out past the white noise in his head. He falls onto his side, panting. Harry's on his knees, stroking himself, hand still slick with lube. His cock is red and wet and he's soaked with sweat, hair sticking to his pretty face, eyes open wide.

"C'mere, sweetheart," Louis slurs. Harry shuffles forward with a little sob, a little laugh. He kisses the side of Louis's neck and the hinge of his jaw. He pulls Louis's knickers down his legs and off, then eases Louis's thighs wide apart and Louis hums, exhausted and fucked out, pliant under Harry's hands. His cock is tender, not quite soft when Harry cups it in his hand. "Harry."

"You really did shave everywhere, didn't you?" Harry asks in wonder. He thumbs over Louis's bare pubic bone, skin smooth and pink, reaches down to hold his balls, then slides both hands all the way down Louis's legs and back up.

"Shut up," Louis says, tilting his hips into Harry's hand. It's not like he'd sat down and scheduled a time to shave his balls. It's not a thing. Harry should know by now that Louis never does anything by halves.

Harry rests his elbow next to Louis's shoulder, strokes Louis's thighs and fits his hips between them again, a little wild-eyed and breathless when he starts to rut his hard dick into the crease of Louis's thigh while Louis's strokes his hair. "Taste so good," he says, muffled by Louis's neck. "You're cunt tastes so good, Lou, you taste so good, got me so hard again, watching you come in your knickers. Felt you 'round my fingers, made you come. God, wish I could've seen your face. You're so gorgeous, bloody beautiful."

Louis swallows hard, pulling Harry's head up by his hair to kiss him quiet. Harry melts against him right away, barely moving his hips, wet dick a hot line on Louis's thigh.

"God, I wanna fuck you." He blurts it out just like that, inhales sharply because he didn't mean to. Louis digs his fingernails into Harry's back, strangely aware of his arsehole and the way it clenches up needily around nothing. It's a bit scary how fast he's got into it, started to want it. He'd have laughed in Harry's face just an hour ago for even suggesting it and now that he's had his fingers and his tongue all Louis wants is Harry's big prick inside him. Harry must take his silence for reluctance, because he rushes to backtrack. "I didn't mean. I wouldn't, I mean. I know you don't—"

Louis draws him back down for a kiss. He's hard again, almost all the way, cock fattening up fast. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, okay."

Harry's dazed, this sex-stupid look on his face. "You. Huh?"

"You can," Louis tells him. It's hard to get words out, like his voice isn't working properly. "Like, you can, put it in. If you want."

Harry catches their mouths together again, kisses Louis slow and sweet. They snog for ages, rocking their hips together, touching each other. Louis's had his fair share of girlfriends but it's like a different world, good in a different way. He's more comfortable with Harry than he's ever been with anyone and it's just as easy to lie here kissing him as it is to sit around and watch TV or get up on stage and sing with him, exciting and new and scary and wonderful. Harry wraps Louis's legs around his waist and sits back on his heels, hefts Louis up with him so his cock is pressed right against the crease of Louis's arse. Louis grinds down, needy, and Harry shamelessly dips two fingers in where Louis's still slick inside.

"I don't," Harry starts, and stops. Louis pulls his face back to see him properly. Harry's flushed, voice a quiet rasp. "I don't have a condom."

Louis's eyes immediately find the lube on the duvet, the condom right next to it. He glances at it for only a second, mouth dry. He's gonna say they shouldn't, but then he vividly remembers Harry jizzing in his mouth and the idea of him coming in Louis's arse, filling him up, marking him up inside when he knows Harry's never done it with anyone else makes his heart swell in his chest. He blinks down at Harry, touches his lips, stomach flipping hotly when Harry draws the tips into his mouth and sucks.

"It's okay," he says, wriggling until Harry's cock is fit into the cleft of his bum. "You can, just. You can do it in me."

Harry clutches at his back hard enough bruise, using what leverage he can to hump up against him. "Fuck, fuck, Louis," he moans, and Louis nods frantically, precome and lube so wet between them that the slide knocks Harry's dick into Louis's balls and it feels so good his vision whites out.

Harry lifts him up, lets him tumble onto the bed, and Louis bounces, laughing, heart in his throat. It's like any number of impromptu wrestling matches they've had in the past, except this time when Harry pins him, he licks into Louis's mouth like he's claiming a prize. He kisses Louis's chest and his belly and his thighs, picks up the lube and smears it over his hand before he clambers up over Louis again.

"Get to see your face, this time," he whispers, like a secret, something special. Louis can't bear the soft look on Harry's face so he bites his jaw and tilts his hips up and rubs against him until they're both too riled up and Harry's hand delves between his legs. They're impatient and nervous, stupid with it. Harry pushes two fingers in right away and Louis's back arches off the bed as he chokes on a gasp.

"Sorry, fuck, are you—"

"Good, I'm good, God, I want—" He breaks off with squeak when Harry presses another finger in. "Harry, Harry."

Harry sucks in a breath and jabs his fingers in gently a few times. Louis lifts his head to watch Harry pour more lube into his hand and palm himself, slick his dick up. He's so big and Louis wants, so fucking much.

"C'mon," he urges desperately. "S'enough, c'mon, cmon!"

Harry braces himself over Louis on one elbow as he lines up, touching the slick tip of his cock to Louis' hole. It takes a few tries, too tight and hot to get it in first. Louis kisses Harry again, forces himself to relax while Harry pants against his mouth and lets out these little whimpers each time the slit catches at the rim. When the head finally pops in all at once, Louis wants to cover his face, big stretch of it making his eyes prickle, but Harry tugs his hand away when he tries. "Wanna see, wanna see, fuck you're so tight."

He sinks in inch by inch, rubs Louis's stomach and gets it wet with lube, working Louis open with his cock in slow increments. It's so good despite being too much, the hurt making it better somehow. The way he can feel himself opening up, pulling Harry in, leaves him breathless, and Harry feels huge buried deep inside him.

"Oh, God," Harry moans, rolling his hips in little circles, "Fuck, you're so. Is it okay? Lou? God you feel so—" The next time he fucks in he goes deeper, wrenches a guttural cry out of Louis's throat. "Shit, shit, babe you feel so good. Is it okay? Tell me you're, nn."

Louis can't speak so he nods, pulls on Harry's curls and kisses him again. Louis clenches down when Harry tweaks his nipples through the bra still stretched over his chest. He's trying to go slow but it doesn't last, thrusts getting short and sloppy. Louis's eyes close, cock throbbing between them, ignored because tonight he's Harry's girl. Sweat drips off Harry's nose and onto Louis's cheek and Louis tangles his fingers into Harry’s hair, can't do more than hold on as Harry dicks in hard and fast.

"Please," Harry pants, sounding overcome. "Please, fuck, I'm inside you, can't believe I'm inside you. Feels so good, 'm gonna come, gonna come inside you, Lou."

It hits Louis first and all at once, orgasm startled out of him, crackling all through his body, dick untouched and spilling hot onto his belly. He clamps down around Harry's cock inside him and feels Harry's body shudder, the sob against his neck where Harry tucks his face in, and feels Harry's come fill him up, wet inside.

Harry holds himself there, rides Louis through it with sharp little thrusts until his prick softens. Louis whimpers when he pulls out, and Harry mumbles an apology, kisses the corner of Louis's mouth. Louis's arse throbs halfway up his back. His thighs are sore, trembling. His legs fall from around Harry's waist and Harry collapses on top of him, still catching his breath and shaking. Louis gathers him into his arms, kisses his shoulder and his neck. He can feel Harry's come leaking out of his arse.

When Harry finally rolls off, he's smiling and shy, sweet. "Hey," he says, voice rough.

Louis offers a tired laugh and turns gingerly onto his side, heart still slowing. "Hiya."

He's sore all over. Harry's cock is soft now but Louis can't take his eyes off it anyway, wonders if he could get it up again so Louis could sink onto him, ride him like this while Harry's fucked out and pliant. He rolls onto his belly and hides his face in Harry's shoulder, hums quietly when Harry's hand starts to stroke up and down his back. "You. You okay?" Harry asks. He sounds uncertain, a bit worried. Louis finds his hand and squeezes it.

"'Course I am, get over yourself," he says.

Harry laughs, pulls Louis's hair meanly and squeezes his hip before he hefts himself up with a groan. He gets out of bed and walks into the ensuite, comes back clean and carrying a warm flannel from the bathroom. Once he's cleaned up Louis feels utterly exhausted, the last of his energy drained. He protests wordlessly when Harry pulls his upper body off the bed a bit.

"Just a sec," Harry says, a smug expression on his face that makes Louis suspicious. Harry kisses his chin, and then reaches one hand behind Louis's back and snaps the clasp of the bra free.

Louis lets him pull it off his arms and toss it away before he pinches Harry in the side. "Knew it, you fucking liar."

"What?" Harry blinks innocently. "All that practice really paid off."

 

the end