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Have You Coming Back Again

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It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

The car’s one of the SUV type things that Louis can never remember the name of. It’s probably a gas chugger, but it’s big and boxy and perfect for Louis’ plan.

The seat’s pushed too far back for Louis to actually drive it, which makes him scowl for a minute. He adjusts the seat even though he’s not going to drive it, and then, since he’s done that, adjusts the mirrors and fucks with all of the pre-sets on the radio so it’ll blare out J-Pop as soon as the ignition gets turned on.

Then it’s time for what he actually came to do. He digs his supplies out of his bag and sets them up on the seat. He’ll be here for a while.


Of course, the entire thing wouldn’t be worth it if Louis didn’t stick around to watch the outcome. It’s not like there’s going to be any doubt as to who’s done it, anyway.

He sets himself up underneath a tree on the other side of the street, bunching up his bag behind his back, and makes the call.

Niall doesn’t pick up until the fourth ring, and Louis can barely understand what he’s saying when he does. He must still be a little drunk. He always gets more Irish when he’s been drinking.

“Listen, mate, I need you to do me a favour,” Louis interrupts. “I’m pretty sure that someone’s done something to Styles’ car.”

Niall groans. “By someone do you mean you?” he demands, but Louis can already hear him moving. “How many times do I have to tell you that I want no part in this?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, enough of your whining,” Louis says, and hangs up. He leans back against the tree and makes sure that his phone is recording.

Harry stumbles out the door less than five minutes later wearing only basketball shorts. His eyes catch on Louis and narrow. Louis can see his nostrils flaring, even with the distance.

He shakes himself out of his glare and heads to his car just in time for the first balloon to pop. He stops, like he’s not sure what he’s seeing, which is enough time for a bunch of the other balloons to start exploding.

“Are you kidding me,” Harry yells. He runs to the car and yanks open the door, letting some of the heat out, but it’s pretty much too late. Louis didn’t fill the car all the way because he didn’t actually want to break any of the glass, but there’s enough in there to retain the heat pretty well and have more popping even as Harry tries to shove them out onto the ground.

He starts slowing after a minute, and Louis starts shoving his shit together. He stops the recording and scrambles to his feet, not waiting to see if Harry’s coming after him before he takes off down the street, back to his own car.


“Do I even want to know?” Liam asks, narrowing his eyes at the pot of caramel melting slowly on the stove.

“That depends,” Louis says, gesturing for Zayn to stir it before it starts sticking, “What’s your stance on Harry Styles, again?”

Liam sighs heavily. “You’re still on about that, then?”

Louis finishes peeling the onions and convinces his eyes not to start watering uncontrollably. He’s mostly successful, which is something. “I had to change my phone number, Liam.”

“You only had to change your phone number because you spent three days pulling so many pranks on him that he finally decided to retaliate,” Liam says, but he doesn’t stop Zayn from bringing the pot over to where the onions are waiting.

Louis’ phone had been under attack. He’d had no choice but to change his number. The sheer amount of voicemails he had that were just incomprehensible screaming had given him a headache, and they had shown no sign of letting up.

The amount of effort that people are willing to go through to win a ‘Sound Like Chewbecca!’ contest varies between nearly none to almost unimaginable. And for only a fifty pound prize, at that.

Some people.

“So you’re saying that you don’t want to help make these caramel onions and deliver them to the Alpha Beta Phi house?” Louis asks. He has to make sure, with Liam.

Liam’s silent for a minute. “Are they going to be ready before I have to go to class?”


On the walk over to the Phi house, Zayn asks how they’re going to get Harry to eat one of the onions. He makes a pretty good point, in theory - this thing has been going on for so long that Harry’s naturally suspicious any time he so much as sets eyes on Louis.

Louis has something that Harry wants enough to bite into whatever Louis offers him, though, so he just smirks and smacks his hand against the front door a few times, until Niall wrenches the door open, bleary-eyed and tired even though it’s two o’clock in the afternoon.

He groans. “Not you fuckers again.”

Louis pats his chest. “Nialler, because I love you I’m going to give you a bit of advice.”

Niall glances between Louis’ face and the tray he has balanced in his arms. “Don’t eat the apples?” he guesses wryly.

Louis slaps his face as he slips past him and into the house, following the sound of Harry’s voice into the kitchen. There are a few guys in there, and Harry’s standing over the stove, stirring something in a pan.

The sound of the tray hitting the table gets everyone’s attention. “Presents!” Louis announces loudly.

No one moves.

“Are they laced with arsenic?” Justin asks.

“Now there’s an idea,” Louis says, nudging the tray closer to the center of the table. He swipes a finger through the caramel, still a little bit gooey, and pops it into his mouth.

It tastes vaguely like onion. Louis hides his wince and finishes sucking it off, mainly for Harry’s benefit. “You know no one’s going to eat those, right?” Justin asks.

“Really?” Louis asks, picking one up and examining it. His fingers get sticky immediately, but he has to ignore it in favour of sashaying his way over to Harry’s side.

He also has to ignore the way Harry’s cooking in only his boxers, despite the grease splattering everywhere. It wouldn’t do for him to get distracted right now, not when he’s trying to distract Harry into taking a bite.

“No,” Harry says, but he must be able to hear how weak he sounds. Louis wore his best jeans for this, and the shirt that Harry likes. There’s no way he’s holding out, even though he must know that Louis’ done something to these.

“Really?” Louis says, holding the onion a little higher, in between their faces. He lowers his eyes to it, tilting it a little better, so the light shines off of it nicely.

Harry’s making no secret of the fact that he’s watching Louis’ mouth. Louis lets his tongue dart out quickly, giving the onion the quickest, tiniest little lick he can manage before extending the onion, spit slick side towards Harry.

The look on Harry’s face as he bites into it is so worth the effort that was put into this.


The only thing to do after that - after he’s watched the video that Zayn so painstakingly took about twenty times in a row just for the look on Harry’s face as he chews and swallows his bite of caramel onion - is all the classics, so close together that Harry takes to literally spinning around on his heel and heading in the opposite direction the instant that he sees Louis coming.

He starts with plastic wrap on the toilet. It takes a few tries - he gets Niall the first three times in a row, which is hilarious enough to consider moving on to something else - but he knows when he’s gotten Harry by the definitively unmanly shriek that comes out of the loo when Louis’ trying to talk Niall into writing his Stats paper for him.

Switching out Harry’s toothpaste for numbing gel is easy, and so is putting itching powder in his clothes, even though that one doesn’t work out because Harry washes his clothes twice, the freak. He rigs a few things in Harry’s room to spill confetti all over the place at various intervals, and resets Harry’s phone and clock so he wakes up at three in the morning thinking he’s late for class.

He would have short sheeted Harry’s bed, but Harry’s bed is never anything less than a jumbled mess. Louis doesn’t really have room to talk, not with the state his own bed is in, but it would have been at least a little bit funny.

He only runs out of steam because he has that paper to write, which takes up more of his time than he would like. Combined with football practices and getting the athletic fundraiser off the ground and the rest of his life, there’s barely any time for sleep, much less time for making Harry’s life difficult.


Once the paper is finally written and turned in, Louis gets dressed and goes to the Alpha Beta Phi party. It’s probably a bad idea. Harry’s probably at least a little pissed, still - Louis would be, if it was him.

Louis has been going to the parties longer than Harry has, though. He’s a staple of them, an honourary brother because he doesn’t do frats. Niall does, though, and Louis has been there to support him for two years. He’s not going to stop now, just because some big dumb jock has probably taken offense to Louis’ pranks.

He pushes through the front door without knocking and heads directly to the kitchen to mix himself a drink, nodding and shouting out hellos to people as he passes. He’s well on his way to smashed by the time he realizes that he hasn’t seen Harry at all, and that’s just weird. Harry loves a good party.

He focuses his attention on Justin, one of the guys on the footie team with him, and pats his chest absently. “Have you seen Harry?” he asks, and keeps patting Justin’s chest. It feels nice. He has a lot of muscles.

Justin hesitates. Louis stops patting him slowly and looks up. “What?” he asks suspiciously. Silence is never a good sign.

“Listen, mate, don’t do anything crazy, alright? But he’s upstairs with a girl in his room,” Justin says, rushed. Louis blinks slowly.

“Are they makin’ a baby?” Louis wonders. His hands slip off of Justin’s chest. He takes a few unsteady steps in the general direction of the stairs.

Justin grabs him by the belt loops before he can get too far and brings him to a halt. “I’m pretty sure they’re just working on an assignment,” Justin says, but it sounds weak to Louis’ ears.

Louis hiccups. “A baby assignment?” he asks. He can see the stairs from here, roped off to prevent people from getting into the brothers’ rooms. Like that ever works.

Louis isn’t people, though. “I’m pretty sure that it’s not a baby assignment,” Justin says. There’s a laugh in his voice that hasn’t quite come out yet. He doesn’t sound worried any more, which can only be a good thing.

“I’m gonna go help them with the baby assignment,” Louis decides. He starts for the stairs again, and Justin doesn’t stop him this time. He does make sure that Louis gets there, though, a hand between his shoulder-blades as they walk. It takes a few minutes, because they keep getting sidetracked by people who want to compliment the two of them on their teamwork during the game last week, and, well, Louis can’t say no to a compliment.

Eventually, they make it to the stairs. Louis turns around and pats Justin’s chest again. He’s a good boy, Justin, and he doesn’t mind Louis’ friendly groping. “Thank you for the escort, kind sir,” Louis says solemnly. He climbs the first stair so they’re the same height.

“Don’t fall and smash your head in on the way up the stairs,” Justin says, smiling. He has a nice smile. Louis should tell him that.

“You have a nice smile,” Louis announces. “Next time I’mma be your wingman and get you a nice lady to take home, alright? I gotta go make a baby now, though.”

A ragged cheer goes through the room. Louis flaps his fingers and climbs the stairs carefully, one foot in front of the other. It’s very important not to fall and bash his head in. Justin said so.

He makes it to Harry’s room and flings the door open. There’s a girl he doesn’t recognize lying on Harry’s bed. “I’m here to make a baby,” Louis announces. The room’s dark, so he can barely make out the girl’s expression, but it doesn’t look happy. That’s weird. Louis can totally make an awesome baby, and who doesn’t love babies?

The light flicks on abruptly. Louis winces and squints his eyes a little until he gets used to it. “What are you doing here?” Harry asks. He’s leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m here to help you make a baby,” Louis repeats. He stumbles into the room and closes the door behind himself. It’s very courteous of him, if he does say so himself.

“What’s going on?” the girl asks. Louis’ attention swings over to her, spread out on Harry’s bed and wearing a skimpy halter shirt and the shortest skirt Louis has ever seen.

Sorority girls. Honestly.

“He’s drunk,” Harry says, at the same time that Louis says, “Me an’ Harry are makin’ a baby.”

The girls sits up and raises her eyebrows. “Is that right?”

Louis rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to Harry. He walks carefully across the room and smashes his face into Harry’s shoulder. “I wanna make a baby,” Louis says, muffled by the fabric of Harry’s shirt. “Let’s make a baby.”

Harry’s hand settles between Louis’ shoulder-blades. “Sorry, I really have to take care of this,” he says apologetically. Louis scoffs into his shoulder and bites him a little. The only person he should be apologizing to is Louis, for not helping him make a baby yet.

Louis turns his head just in time to see the girl get up off the bed and smooth her skirt down over her thighs. Whatever. Louis could totally wear that skirt better. “I’ll text you and we can finish this later?” she asks. Louis tunes out Harry’s agreement and sways them back and forth, eyes caught on the new photos tacked up onto Harry’s bulletin board.

There’s one of Louis in his full footie gear, hair mussed and red-faced, sweaty, after a game. Louis pushes himself off of Harry’s chest and walks across the room, leaning over the desk to pull the picture down. He never said that Harry could have this.

“That’s mine,” Harry sighs, but he doesn’t sound displeased. Louis wiggles his arse a little and puts the picture down on top of Harry’s Econ textbook. Maybe he’ll let him keep if it Harry gives him a back rub.

“It’s mine,” Louis says. He turns around and takes the three steps necessary to face-plant into the bed.

He lays there for a minute, choking on Harry’s pillow, before he rolls over. “Come make a baby.”

“You really don’t understand how biology works, do you?” Harry asks, but he’s locking the door and coming over to the bed anyway.

“You don’t understand how biology works,” Louis says. He puts his head in Harry’s lap as soon as he sits down and bites him again, on the upper thigh this time.

Harry’s hand fists in his hair and pulls him up just enough that Louis can’t bite him anymore before letting go. “You’re a menace,” he says, but he still doesn’t sound displeased. “Why are you here?”

Louis plants an elbow in Harry’s lap and struggles to push himself up, ignoring Harry’s pained groan. “Came to make a baby.”

Harry laughs. “Sweetheart, you couldn’t get it up right now if you tried.”

That sounds like an affront to Louis’ fine character. He narrows his eyes and shoves Harry flat onto the bed with a hand on his chest. “We’re gonna make a baby,” Louis says.

Harry waves a hand, dimples still popping out of his cheeks. “By all means, go ahead and make a baby.”

Louis considers this. On one hand, making a baby is a lot of work. On the other hand, he’s pretty sure that Harry just implied that Louis isn’t capable of making a baby by himself, and that’s just plain wrong.

“I’m making a baby,” Louis announces unnecessarily. He struggles with Harry’s belt, trying to convince it to open for him.

“You’re doing a great job,” Harry agrees.

After two minutes of failing to get the belt open, Louis is almost ready to admit defeat. “How about we make a baby in the morning?” Harry asks, covering Louis’ hands with his own.

“A baby,” Louis agrees, and falls asleep before Harry can even get him underneath the sheets.


By the time Louis wakes up in the morning Harry’s already gone, gym bag missing from its usual spot. He feels kind of shitty - not too hungover to function like a normal human being but hungover enough to be cranky about it.

His cock doesn’t seem to care that he has a hangover, though, and it’s pretty insistent about not caring, so he jerks off quickly, crumpling the tissues up after he’s come and tossing them somewhere for Harry to find when he’s least expecting it.

He doesn’t want to go to his morning class, but seeing as he’s up he might as well make an effort.

Running late doesn’t stop him from taking the time to leave a sticky note in the mess of Harry’s bed that only reads enjoy with a pretty accurate drawing of a middle finger, if Louis does say so himself.



“Okay,” Louis says loudly, clapping his hands together and startling a couple of the people nearest to him. He ignores it and clambers up onto his chair, surveying the room at large.

It’s actually a better turn out than he hoped for. Not all of them are familiar faces, but there’s enough that he thinks that it’s going to run smoothly. Maybe. Hopefully.

“So I’m Louis, I’m in charge of this year’s athletics fundraiser,” he begins. A ragged cheer goes up, to which he shushes. Such drama queens, honestly. “For any of you who don’t know me, I play midfield on the football team and I enjoy ordering people around and kicking balls at Harry Styles’ face.”

“More like you enjoy resting your balls on Harry Styles’ face while he eats you out,” Zayn mutters, low enough that Louis is hopefully the only person who hears it. Louis kicks him and sends a winning smile out to the crowd.

“Technically I have a co-organizer this year, but he doesn’t know the first thing about fundraisers or athletics or life, really, so if you have any questions or concerns please don’t hesitate to come to me or my right hand man, Zayn Malik.”

He gives Zayn another kick for good measure and points towards Liam, sitting in the back of the room with Niall. “Liam Payne’s going to be in charge of the tech crew, everyone!” Louis shouts, just in time to get pulled off of the chair by hands that are entirely too big to be necessary.

Clearly the person the hands belong to want him to sit back down. Clearly that’s also never going to happen, so Louis folds his arms across his chest and lets his hip knock into Harry’s.

“Sorry I’m late,” Harry begins, sending a beaming smile out across the room. Louis huffs a little and rolls his eyes. Fucker was probably only late because he was too busy flirting with everyone who so much as looked in his direction.

Harry’s elbow digs pointedly into his ribs until Louis drops the scowl. “I’m Harry Styles, the co-organizer this year. I’m on the rugby team and while I wouldn’t necessarily say that I enjoy it my primary function is to keep Louis from setting things on fire.”

“Set something on fire one time and you never hear the end of it,” Louis complains loudly. It earns him a few more relaxed chuckles, like everyone in the room is getting more comfortable. Good. They’re all in this together.

Except Harry. Louis is still trying to come up with a plan to get him kicked off the committee. Nothing has stuck so far.

“Pretty much the only thing that we’re trying to accomplish today is to get everyone signed up into a department they’ll feel comfortable in. The first couple of weeks are more about brainstorming than anything, so if you sign up for something that you end up regretting you’ll have a little bit of time to figure it out,” Harry continues.

“Obviously there’s a couple of areas that doesn’t really work with,” Louis interjects. “Sound and lighting, for example. We’re not asking you to be experienced, because Liam will teach you the ropes, but it’s the area that we always struggle with getting people in, so if you join it we’re gonna ask that you stick to it as long as possible.”

He goes on a little, explaining a few things, until people’s eyes start to glaze over, and then lets them disperse, settling back into his chair with a sigh. Practice ran long today, and his muscles are sore, vaguely achy.

He kind of zones out for a minute, coming back to himself with a start when big, heavy hands land on his shoulders, fingers digging in.

“Didn’t give you permission to touch me, did I?” Louis snipes, but it’s half-hearted at best.

“You want me to stop?” Harry asks, warm and amused. Louis considers that option for a second. Stopping would mean no more massage, but not stopping would mean letting Harry think that it’s okay to just put his hands all over Louis whenever he wants.

“I’m going to bite off your hand the next time you touch me without my permission,” Louis decides, and lets Harry give him a massage until he’s either going to fall asleep or take it to a place that it really shouldn’t be taken in this particular setting.

He comes up with the next prank he’s going to pull on Harry, though, so it’s not a complete waste of time.


“So I need a favour,” Louis says, barging into Niall’s room. He’s huddled into a corner, on the floor, with his laptop in front of him. It kind of looks like he’s watching porn at first, but then the clear sounds of Gilmore Girls come filtering through.

Louis ignores it. There’s only so many times he can catch Niall trying to watch Gilmore Girls sneakily before he runs out of jokes. “If it’s something that involves Harry I don’t want anything to do with it,” Niall says warily.

“No, I already enlisted Zayn for that,” Louis says impatiently. “I need you to get dolled up in a wig and a dress and be a stand in for Nancy. She’s out sick and we can’t afford to miss another rehearsal.”

Niall scrunches up his nose and goes back to watching the laptop. Louis waits another fifteen seconds before launching himself bodily onto Niall’s head and slapping him until he agrees. “Fine, fine!” he shouts, shoving Louis off of him. “I still don’t understand why you can’t just ask Harry to do it, though.”

There’s two good reasons for that, one of which is that Harry can’t act for shit and the other of which is that Harry’s shoulders are too broad to fit in the dress without ripping it. It’s tempting to make Harry do it anyway, if only for the sheer absurdity of the picture it’d make, but the fact of the matter is that there’s only a week left until the show and the less alterations that need to be done at this point the better.

“Like I’d trust Harry anywhere near my show,” Louis says instead, using the top of Niall’s head to shove himself up off the floor.

“Isn’t it half Harry’s show?” Niall grumbles, hunching in on himself protectively.

Louis ignores the insolence. “So today at 4:30. Don’t be late or I’ll revoke friend privileges,” he says, and slams the door loudly on his way out. Harry’s room is next door. Hopefully it’ll have woken him up.


Niall shows up at 4:25 sporting a bag of pastries and a couple of teas the size of Louis’ head.

“This is why you’re my favourite,” Louis proclaims, snatching one of the teas out of Niall’s hand before he can change his mind and decide to drink them both just to make Louis burst into tears.

Or maybe that’s something that Louis would do, not Niall. Niall is a nice boy.


“I’m not even close to being your favourite,” Niall says, letting Louis snatch the bag of pastries out of his hand as well.

Louis ignores him. There’s caffeine and sugar to be consumed and Louis hasn’t had more than four hours of sleep per night for the past two weeks.

He feels more human by his third pastry, and he’s back to himself, shouting at Niall every time he gets a tad too close to ripping the delicate seams of the dress. The rehearsal goes pretty well, all considering.

And he only takes three pictures of Niall in the dress for blackmail purposes.



“Liam,” Louis says firmly.

“No,” Liam says, just as firmly.

“Liam,” Louis repeats, raising his voice a bit.

“No,” Liam says, matching him.

This could go on for a while. Louis hangs up and calls Zayn, instead. He can always count on Zayn to lend a hand when Louis needs it.

“Zayn,” Louis says, the second that Zayn picks up.

“Lou,” Zayn answers warily.

“I need to stay in your flat for a couple of nights. The heating in the dorm broke.”

Bless his heart, Zayn doesn’t do what Liam did, which was to immediately ask so why don’t you go stay with Harry then? Instead, he says, “Yeah, okay. I’m staying with Pez for a couple days anyway, so you can have my room.”

“Good,” Louis says, letting out a relieved breath. “Now call Liam and tell him that you’ve already said yes.”


When one o’clock in the morning hits, Louis is tired and cranky and he just wants to go to sleep.

He can’t, though, because Zayn’s bed smells weird and this flat makes creepy noises and Liam stopped answering Louis’ texts twenty minutes ago. He’s probably fallen asleep, the wanker.

So Louis can’t sleep, and he’s not going to be able to sleep any time soon. He’s itching with the urge to do something, but at the same time he doesn’t want to get out of the warmth of the blankets he’s cocooned himself up in.

There’s really only one option for what he can do, at this point.

Half an hour later, he rolls out of the bed, blankets and all, and makes his way to the door stealthily, careful to avoid the floorboard that always creaks near the kitchen, and lets Harry in.


In the morning, after Louis has brushed his teeth and put on a shirt and pants that are mostly clean, he pads out to the tiny little kitchen and takes a seat at the table, stealing Liam’s mug right out from under him.

Liam doesn’t even protest, which is how Louis knows that something is coming.

He’s quiet for a minute. Then, “You have really strange sex.”

“Why are you listening to me having sex, Liam?” Louis demands, deciding that Liam’s toast will go quite nicely with his tea and taking that as well.

“Because you decided that having sex in my flat is a good idea?” Liam says, snatching his toast back out of Louis’ hand, before he even has a chance to take a bite.

That’s just not acceptable. Louis pulls the toast back, and it turns into a full on toast war that ends with the tea spilt all over the floor underneath Liam’s chair.

He’s lucky. Louis was going for his lap.

“Don’t listen to me having sex,” Louis orders, pushing himself up from the table so he can switch the kettle back on.

“It’s kind of hard to avoid when you’re in there screaming your bloody head off,” Liam mutters darkly. “And it’s so weird.”

This is getting kind of offensive, actually. “Why is it so weird, Liam?” Louis demands. “It’s not like you thought that I was a bloody virgin or something.”

“No, it’s just weird because - ” Liam starts. He pauses for a minute, presumably gathering his thoughts. “It’s way more intimate than I thought your sex would be.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s sex, Liam. Of course it’s gonna be intimate.”

“No, like - it’s really sweet, actually? Like, he calls you baby and he sounds like he means it, but you answer him? Without even thinking about it, like it’s just second nature. I kept expecting you to go off on him.”

“This is getting awkward,” Louis announces, pouring hot water into two cups.

“I’m just saying,” Liam says defensively. “It’s strangely tender. And the shaving thing is weird, too.”

The shaving thing is really hot, actually, but Louis wasn’t lying about this conversation getting extremely awkward, so he dumps Liam’s tea in front of him, pats him on the head, and escapes back to clean up the mess of the bed that they made.


There’s a phone ringing somewhere in the vicinity of Louis’ room. Unless Harry snuck in and hid phones all over, it has to be Louis’.

On a side note, Louis has to remember to get a whole bunch of old cellphones and set their alarms five minutes apart and then hide them all over Harry’s room. It’s so nice that Harry doesn’t have a roommate anymore. He must feel very lucky.

Louis doesn’t bother looking at the display before answering the call. There’s only one person it could be at this time of night, anyway. “What.”

“Did you seriously steal my comforter?” Harry asks. He sounds pissed off.

Louis lets his eyes slip closed and snuggles deeper into his blankets, one of which absolutely is not Harry’s, despite what it may look like. “No.”

“It’s bloody freezing out, Louis, I need my blanket back,” Harry continues, like Louis hadn’t even said anything.

“Maybe you shouldn’t lose all of your shit, then,” Louis mumbles. His grip on the phone is slipping, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Come and open the door,” Harry demands.

Louis hums into the phone and manages to press the end call button.

Five minutes later, his phone rings again, jarring him out of his nice doze. “What,” he says again, a tad more grumpily this time.


Louis sighs and starts pushing himself out of his bed, grumbling underneath his breath. “Fine, I’m fucking coming already, jesus,” he says, stifling a yelp when his feet land on the cold floor. He can’t find his shoes, so he runs down the hall to the door and pops it open barefoot.

“I hope you appreciate that I got out of bed to come and let you in,” he says.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t steal my blankets and then make me come all the way down here at one o’clock in the morning,” Harry says tightly. He pushes past Louis and starts down the hallway.

Louis makes a face at his back and trails after him, muttering unflattering things loudly enough for Harry to hear them, watching Harry’s back muscles getting tighter and tighter with every word.

“Would you just stop?” Harry asks heavily. He comes to a halt in the middle of the hallway, slow enough that there’s no risk of Louis bumping into his back.

Louis bumps into his back anyway, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. He rests his head on Harry’s back, because he wants to and because he’s tired, and closes his eyes. “I have your blanket,” he says quietly, like there’s any risk of it still being a secret after Harry steps foot inside the room.

“I know you do,” Harry says. “’S what I came to get, after all.”

There’s approximately a million blankets in the linen closet at the Alpha Beta Phi house. Granted, Louis probably wouldn’t want to take the chance on using one either, but if it was between that or freezing all night he’d have gone with the possibly semen-crusted blanket.

Honestly, though, what kind of person comes to uni with only one blanket, though. What does he do when he puts it in the wash?

Harry starts moving before Louis can decide what he wants to say, one hand clasped over both of Louis’ so that they’re moving together, the last few steps into Louis’ room. Instead of grabbing the blanket and shoving Louis out of the way on his way out the door, Harry collapses onto Louis’ bed and rolls himself up against the wall without even taking his shoes off.

“No shoes on the sheets,” Louis says immediately, even though the last time he was in Harry’s room he left his dirty socks hidden somewhere in Harry’s sheets for him to find a couple of days later.

Harry groans and toes his shoes off blindly, dragging both of Louis’ pillows down and burying his face in them. Louis watches him for another minute, but he doesn’t seem inclined to do anything other than pass out, despite the fact that he’s still wearing his bloody hipster jeans that are tight enough to cut off circulation.

Some might argue that Louis’ jeans are tight enough to rival Harry’s. Some might also get slapped in the balls, Liam.

“Would your cock fall off in the middle of the night if you tried sleeping in your jeans?” Louis wonders.

Harry turns his head to face Louis and opens one eye. “If I wasn’t five seconds away from falling into a comatose sleep I’d ask you to say the word cock again.”

Louis shuffles across the room and climbs into the empty spot on the bed. “If you weren’t five seconds away from falling into a comatose sleep you might get your cock sucked.”

“Rain check?” Harry asks, voice warm and amused even as he lifts up enough for Louis to be able to get the blankets out from underneath him and settle them over their bodies.

As if. “There’s no such thing as a rain check for cocksucking, Harold,” Louis sniffs, stealing one of the pillows back and flipping around on his side, facing away from Harry.

He holds his breath and has barely counted to five when Harry’s arm settles over his chest, pressing up firmly against Louis’ back. “There really should be,” Harry murmurs, tucking his knees into Louis’. “The amount of times that you’ve offered to blow me when you know that I’m not going to be able to take you up on it is insane.”

“Yes, well, once you decline the offer it moves onto the next guy,” Louis says, wiggling his fingers until Harry’s hand settles over top of his.

“So how many guys are you offering to blow on the regular?” Harry asks. The fatigue in his voice is obvious and getting worse by the second. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s fallen asleep in the middle of a conversation.

“How many people are on your rugby team, again?” Louis asks. Harry’s breathing, slow and steady against the back of his neck, is oddly calming. Maybe he’ll fall asleep soon too.

For a minute, it seems like Harry’s fallen asleep, gone still and quiet. “So you’re saying that you’d blow James, then?”

The shudder that runs through Louis is completely unstoppable. James is a disgusting human being. Louis tries to stay at least twenty feet away from him at all times. He’s not ashamed to admit that he uses Harry as a buffer as much as possible, ducking behind him whenever he sees James coming, because the first words out of his mouth are usually something about how Louis would look with a dick in one of his orifices.

“Sometimes I forget how much I hate you,” Louis mutters. Harry presses a vague kiss to the side of his head, more spit than anything.

“No you don’t,” he says, and then his arms go heavy in the way that never fails to mean that he’s actually fallen asleep.

Louis gives it five minutes before he extracts himself long enough to colour Harry’s eyebrows in with a green marker.


Clara, one of Louis’ freshmen, comes scampering in Louis’ open door. “Your boyfriend is here to see you,” she announces.

“Tell him to go die in a fiery explosion,” Louis says. He looks up from his statistics textbook just in time to see Harry coming in the door, hair damp and curling at the ends like he’s just come from a shower. He drops his bag to the ground beside a pair of Louis’ shoes and takes the five steps necessary to face-plant into Louis’ bed.

“Maybe you should give him a back rub,” Clara suggests, but the gleam in her eyes suggests that she really wants to see him rub something else.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Maybe you should go back to your room before I find a reason to write you up.” She’s barely eighteen, this girl. Louis doesn’t understand how she’s so dirty minded already.

“Be nice, Lou,” Harry says, muffled by the pillow. Clara rolls her eyes right back at Louis and goes scampering out, hopefully to bother some other poor unsuspecting soul.

“Get out of my bed, dick,” Louis says, and returns his attention to his studying. There’s a few minutes of silence, in which he does actually get a few more pages read in, before Harry’s shuffling around until he can nose his way underneath the book to put his head in Louis’ lap.

Harry’s head make a pretty shitty book rest, but Louis makes do, fingers slipping through Harry’s hair every time he turns a page. He’s pretty sure that Harry falls asleep for a while, but by the time Louis calls it quits he’s more or less awake again.

“You wanna tea?” Harry mumbles. Louis does, because there’s not a moment in Louis’ life that wouldn’t be made better by having tea, but it’s so far and they’re both here.

He closes his book and tosses it down onto the ground. He got it used and already falling apart so there’s not very much likelihood that he’ll be able to resell it anyway. “Let’s just take a nap,” he says, squirming down the bed the best that he can with Harry’s head still in his lap.

“Gotta pick up Niall later,” Harry says, inching his fingers up underneath Louis’ shirt. “Don’t let me forget.”

“Don’t forget to pick up Niall later,” Louis repeats. Harry only sighs and spreads his fingers out, and they fall asleep before either of them even thinks to set an alarm.

Harry only ends up being fifteen minutes late to pick up Niall, though, so it’s whatever.



Louis is eight minutes late, and the lecture has started already, so he stands at the back for a minute, searching for Liam’s funny shaped head in the crowd.

It takes a minute to find, because Liam has decided that today is a good day to wear a hat. Louis would have told him that it’s not if he had have done what he was supposed to and called Louis in the morning before he decided on what he was wearing today.

He definitely would have vetoed that t-shirt, also. Clearly Iron Man is the superior superhero. There’s no excuse for a Hulk t-shirt.

Making his way to where Liam has saved a seat for him is an exercise in sneaking, weaving his way through rows of students while trying to be quiet. He’s never really been all that great at quiet, but he manages, shoving Liam’s rucksack off the chair before collapsing into it.

“You’re late,” Liam says, not tearing his eyes away from his laptop.

“Slept in,” Louis grunts, stealing Liam’s hat off his head so he can plop it on his own before taking out his own laptop and getting it booted up.

Liam’s playing online Scrabble, so Louis has to poke him in the ribs until he sighs and switches back over to the notes he’s taken so far. “Slept in or too busy having sex?”

“Who would I even be having sex with, Liam?” Louis demands, shoving Liam’s hands out of the way so he can take a screenshot of them and send them to himself.

“Well, I mean, just off the top of my head, maybe your boyfriend?”

“What boyfriend?” Louis asks distractedly, busy sending himself Liam’s entire document folder in case he has something incriminating that Louis can use to blackmail him later.

Liam sighs. “Are you trying to say that Harry didn’t spend the night?”

“No, he had to go pick up Niall,” Louis says, returning to his own laptop and opening the files he just send himself. Maybe there’ll be a document with his Facebook password saved onto it. Louis could probably get some real enjoyment out of that.

Liam sighs again. “Useless.”


After class, Louis convinces Liam to hang out with him in the student center while Louis waits for his next class, despite the fact that Liam has no classes for the rest of the day and no desire to stick around.

They grab some food and take up residence in their usual booth, shooing a few freshmen away.

“So how’s the show going?” Liam asks, biting into his sandwich. “Zayn said the set design’s almost done.”

“Well you would know if you deigned to show up every once in a while, wouldn’t you, Liam?” Louis demands, stealing a few of Liam’s chips for his own plate.

“I’m not even in the show!” Liam protests, smacking Louis’ hand away. “I literally have no part in this! I don’t know why you keep telling everyone that I’m in charge of sound!”

Louis sits back in his seat and eats a few bites of his wrap sulkily. The whole reason that he didn’t order chips was because Liam did. “Whatever, Liam.”

Liam rolls his eyes. Louis only catches the tail end of it, and he doesn’t appreciate it. “So where were you, then, if you weren’t with Harry this morning? You didn’t answer my call.”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Why do you people always assume that I’m with Harry?” he complains. He doesn’t even like Harry.

“Because if you don’t answer your phone you’re usually having sex with him?” Liam suggests. “I mean, that’s why I always assume that you’re with Harry. Niall thinks that the only thing that you two do together is cuddle.”

Louis eats a chip and stares longingly at Liam’s plate. “I wouldn’t touch Harry’s dick with a ten foot pole.”

“You touch Harry’s dick at least three times a week,” Liam says blankly. “You’re not getting any chips. You can stop staring.”

What the hell is wrong with people on this campus. “Seriously, why does everyone always assume that me and Harry are together? Last week one of my residents called him my boyfriend.”

“Well, maybe next time you’re drunk at a party and someone brings you to him saying, ‘Styles, I’ve got something that belongs to you’ you should protest,” Liam says. “Useless, I’m telling you.”

“Whatever,” Louis repeats, and changes the subject. Fucking Liam can’t be trusted with anything.


“What the fuck,” Louis says blankly, staring at his laptop. “What the fuck.”

The screen is awash with about a thousand ads - Viagra, porn, Tesco, pretty much everything he could imagine - and no matter what he tries he can’t seem to get them to go away.

“What the fuck,” he says again, louder this time. He shoves the laptop off and climbs out of his bed, landing half on the floor as he searches for his phone.

He absolutely knows who’s done this, even if he kind of can’t believe that he’s capable of it.

Harry takes long enough to answer his phone that Louis starts thinking he’s going to have to gather up all his stuff and beat the truth out of him. “’Lo?”

“What did you do?” Louis demands. On second thought, he shoves his feet into his shoes anyway and starts searching for his jacket. Beating Harry sounds like a great idea.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks guilelessly.

Louis isn’t falling for it. Harry is so far from innocent it’s not even funny. “I’m going to kill you.”

“No you’re not,” Harry says, laughing. Louis stabs at the end call button and grabs his wallet, laptop and keys before striding out of the room, letting his door bang closed behind him.

Time for a smack down.


Justin opens the door to his incessant banging, takes one look at him, sighs and points to the stairs. “He’s in his room.”

Louis takes the stairs two at a time, bursting into the room without knocking. Harry’s sprawled across the bed, only wearing boxers that pull tight across his thighs and make it impossible not to notice the shape of his cock.

“Do you think you’re funny?” Louis demands, letting the door slam closed behind him.

“I think I’m fucking hilarious,” Harry says easily, folding his arms behind his head. His biceps bulge like that, another thing that’s nearly impossible not to notice.

Louis narrows his eyes. If Harry thinks that this is going to end in sex he’s sorely mistaken.

“Get it off.”

Harry’s eyebrows rise a tiny bit. “Get you off?”

Louis inhales deeply and fights the urge to throw something at Harry’s head.

Actually, that sounds like the best idea he’s heard all day. He strides over to Harry’s desk and rifles through all of the shit piled on top if it until he finds something sufficiently hard but soft enough that it won’t pack too much of a punch when it hurls it into the softest part of Harry’s skull.

It ends up being a tennis ball.

Harry doesn’t do anything to deflect it, but Louis changes his aim at the last second and lets it thunk against his chest instead, bouncing off and into his lap. “Get the ads off,” he says clearly, slowly.

“You gonna make me?” Harry asks, rolling the tennis ball around in his huge hand. The silver of his rings glint in the dim light.

“I will hurt you,” Louis says. “I will destroy everything you love.”

“Gonna destroy that arse, then, baby?” Harry asks, pushing himself up from the bed in one smooth motion. “Thought that was my job.”

Louis doesn’t move an inch. “If you don’t take all that shit off my laptop you will never touch this arse again.”

Harry stops moving. “You’re actually cross with me,” he says incredulously. “Last week you dyed all of my white clothes pink!”

What a mission that had been. He’d had to bribe the pledge guarding the laundry room with Niall’s vote just to get in there.

Harry doesn’t seem to be getting it. Louis closes the remaining distance between them and grabs Harry’s left hand, shoves it behind him and nearly slaps himself in the arse forcing him to get a good grip.

“You feel that?” Louis asks softly, training his gaze on the necklace Harry always has dangling around his neck. “Still the best arse you’ve ever felt?”

“Beyond a doubt,” Harry murmurs, finally curving his fingers on his own so he has a proper handful of flesh.

“So if you ever want a chance to eat it again,” Louis says, breathing against Harry’s neck.

Harry swallows. “And supposing that I don’t want to eat it?”

Louis shrugs and brushes his fingers against the tent Harry’s cock has made in his jeans. “Then we’ll just go our separate ways, I suppose, and you’ll have to find someone else who enables your weird fetish.”

“Sweetheart, if you think that arse eating is a weird fetish I won’t be able to do with anyone else, I don’t think you’ve been watching the right porn,” Harry says, a hint of confidence back in his voice. His other hand joins the first, spreading out across Louis’ arse like he owns it, like there’s a stamp that says Property of Harry Styles on it.

“That’s not the fetish I was talking about,” Louis says, taking one of Harry’s hands back and guiding it up underneath his shirt, sliding easily because Louis lotioned earlier, after he’d showered and apparently given Harry the opportunity to fuck with his stuff.

Harry’s breath stutters. “That one’s not that weird either,” he manages, spreading his fingers out on Louis’ belly the same way he had on his arse.

“’kay,” Louis murmurs, using his free hand to pop the button on his jeans before coaxing Harry’s hand down, past his belly button, gliding all the way down to his cock, nearly fully hard and already a little bit wet.

It’s a tight fit, but Harry will always make it work, petting over Louis’ skin with a small, shaky exhale.

“So you’re gonna find a boy who’s gonna let you just stand there and pet him for as long as you want,” Louis says.

Harry’s other hand comes off his arse to start peeling his jeans down, exposing more skin. “Uh huh.”

“One who’s shaved smooth for you,” Louis presses.

“Mmm,” Harry replies, eyes fixed on Louis’ skin, on the base of his cock emerging. “You do it today?”

Louis stops him, covering the hand pulling his jeans open with both of his. “Harry.”

“Baby,” Harry replies immediately, hand twitching underneath Louis’ like he wants to keep going, until Louis is completely bare for him, not a stitch of clothing to be found anywhere on his body.

“You wanna have a nice meal right now?”

Harry’s eyes fly back up to his face. “Yes.”

“Mm,” Louis murmurs, and lets Harry have exactly three kisses before he puts a stop to it, pushing him back with two fingers against his chest, far enough that his hands slip out of Louis’ jeans and leave his groin feeling cold.

He can absolutely relish in the look of despair on Harry’s face, though. “I’m not getting anything until I clear the laptop, am I?”

“Darling,” Louis says, summoning up his most winning smile, “you aren’t even getting anything if you manage to clean it up in under three minutes.”


Twenty minutes later, he bangs out of Harry’s dorm room just as violently as he had banged in, with his laptop tucked underneath his arm and the satisfaction of having resisted the mouth-watering bulge in Harry’s pants.


Two days after that, he comes home to a single red rose lying neatly in the middle of his bed.

He contemplates it for a minute, standing in the doorway with his football kit still slung over his shoulder. He’s dirty and tired and he only wants to take the world’s quickest shower and then pass out for twelve hours.

He tosses the rose onto his desk before he heads to the shower.


Ten and a half hours later, he wakes up to a text that just has a single sad smiley face. He rolls his eyes and ignores it, ready to go back to sleep for at least another hour.

Twenty minutes after that, he admits defeat and texts back fine before actually going to sleep.


He wakes up much sooner than he was anticipating to the quiet snick of his door closing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Harry’s quiet, at least, as he makes his way over to the bed, more of a creeping than anything. He must have toed his shoes off at the door and shown up in sweatpants, judging by how soft he feels when he climbs underneath the covers beside Louis.

Louis can feel him opening his mouth already. “Shh. Sleep time.”

“I was just going to apologize,” Harry says, shifting underneath the covers.

“I know exactly what you were going to say,” Louis says, maybe a little icier than necessary.

He might be overreacting to this a little. Maybe. He doesn’t get much time, though, so he’s going to stand by his actions.

Harry’s hand inches closer and closer to his until Louis lets him tangle their fingers together.

Louis is nearly asleep again when Harry starts talking.

“I didn’t realize that it was your Skype time with your sisters,” he says quietly.

Maybe if Louis stays quiet he’ll think he’s actually asleep. “I never would have fucked with it if I had have known, Lou, I’m so sorry.”

Maybe not.

“I get half an hour with them, once a week,” Louis says, squeezing his eyes closed. “My schedule combined with theirs, it’s so fucked, I can’t. When I miss it I get this tight clenching in my stomach, you know, it’s.”

He stops and breathes. “It just sucks.”

Behind him, Harry’s so still that Louis is almost worried he’s said something wrong. Almost. Harry is the one who fucked up, after all.

“Fuck this,” Harry says suddenly, sitting up and sending the duvet crumpling to the foot of the bed. Louis twists around, trying to see what’s going on, but the bed’s too small, and Harry’s knee is in the middle of his back pinning him against the wall.

If Louis had the energy he would tell Harry to get out. As it is, the only thing he’s capable of is blinking idly at the wall, wondering if Harry’s going to walk out.

“Move,” Harry says firmly, pushing at Louis’ hip. Then, when Louis doesn’t respond instantly, slips his hands underneath Louis’ body and lifts him up. The entire world spins.

It rights itself a second later, when Louis has landed on top of Harry.

“Don’t,” Louis says, and he means for it to come out firmly, but he can already feel the tears starting, which must decrease the effect.

“It’s okay,” Harry says softly, splaying his hand out in the middle of Louis’ back. He must have moved to take off his shirt, and his sweats are the softest, oldest ones that he owns.

He came prepared, and Louis doesn’t feel like fighting anymore. Can’t fight anymore.

“Oh, baby,” Harry murmurs thickly, once the tears start. “I’m so sorry, it’ll be alright, I promise.”

Louis wants to tell him that it’s not even about what he did anymore, that’s it’s everything, this whole week, stress just piling up, but he can’t find any words. He can’t find any words, not with the way Harry’s cradling the back of his head and holding him close, stroking his back as he cries.

Eventually, his tears dry up. He feels better, actually, and Harry’s slow, warm petting doesn’t stop, only spreads, over his shoulder-blades and across the backs of his arms.

“Sorry for freaking out on you,” Louis tells Harry’s chest, twisting his fingers in the drawstrings of his sweatpants.

“S’my fault,” Harry says, rubbing his fingers restlessly over the back of Louis’ neck.

Louis shifts on Harry’s lap until he can get his arms around his neck, burying their faces closer together. “It was your fault,” he allows, “but there’s no way you could have known.”

His chest feels so much emptier now, lighter. He’ll talk to the girls next week, and he can borrow the notes for his Stats class from Zayn so he can grab some extra time with them before they head off to their respective after school activities.

“Okay,” Harry says, sweeping down Louis’ back again. “I’m still gonna make it up to you, though.”

Mm. That already sounds nice. “Now?”

“Tomorrow. After you’ve had some more sleep.”

Yes. Good plan. Louis pats Harry’s bare side, offers his mouth up for a kiss, and falls asleep.


“Mm, what’s,” Louis slurs, trying to shake the sleep off. He lifts his head up long enough to flip his pillow over, and shoves his face back into the cool side. “What’s going on?”

Harry presses a kiss to the dip of his spine, just above the curve of his bum. “Now’s time to make it up to you.”

“And I don’t have to move?”

Harry hums into his skin, sending vibrations down Louis’ spine, and it’s like it’s connected to his dick, already fattening up even though they’ve barely even touched yet. “Baby, if I can’t get you off without you needing to move by now I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’m gonna kick you in the face if you try to make me move,” Louis says, hugging his pillow tighter.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry says, sinking his teeth into the meat of Louis’ arse.

All at once, the pillow gets too hot. The only option is to throw it away, tossing it off the side of the bed into a pile of socks, and then tossing the one Harry was using in that general direction as well.

The first swipe of Harry’s tongue always has him melting, and now is no different. He wiggles his fingers in the cheap cotton sheets, wishing absently that they were in the frat so he could tangle his fingers in Harry’s jersey ones. Maybe they’d even be freshly washed and nice smelling.

God. Harry’s tongue always feels like heaven, and he always takes his time, licking over Louis’ hole until it’s wet and pouting, ready for him to slip inside with anything he wants to give.

“Nice?” Harry murmurs. The metal of his rings is warm against Louis’ skin where he’s holding him open, and he’ll wait until Louis gives him an answer, regardless of the fact that this is supposed to be making up time.

“Imagine if your tongue could get me pregnant,” Louis slurs, rubbing his cheek against the sheets.

Harry’s only response is to pull him apart harder and lick him faster, pulling at the edges of Louis’ hole.

Louis wasn’t finished, though. He has to swallow a whimper, but he wasn’t finished.

“Just be full with babies all the time, wouldn’t I,” he sighs, reaching back with one hand and stroking through Harry’s hair the best that he can. “Never be empty if it was up to you.”

Harry’s mumbling something, too engrossed in eating Louis’ bum to say whatever it is properly. It doesn’t really matter, though - a little bit because it’s probably just an agreement, but mostly because Harry’s tongue chooses that exact moment to slip past his rim and into his hole.

God. Louis squirms around, tension building in his belly, cock dragging against the sheets, and he’s probably going to come really soon.

It’s kind of a shame. Harry has a really talented tongue.

If Louis plays his cards right, though, he can probably get eaten out at least once more before Harry leaves for class.

Harry’s tongue fluttering around in his hole, as deep as it can get, is too much for Louis to take right now. He can never last that long when he’s first woke up, especially not if Harry’s been pressing up against his back all night, warm and unwilling to unglue them even for a second.

He comes with his fingers stuffed into his mouth, trying to keep the noise down at least a little. Harry strokes his hips, his sides, ghosts over his back, and keeps his tongue moving slickly in Louis’ arse.

Louis takes a minute to catch his breath, uncurling his toes and doing his best to ignore the way Harry’s still licking into him as he works the feeling back into his muscles.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, reaching back again and brushing Harry’s shoulder, hot to the touch.

Harry pulls his tongue out but stays there for a second, probably admiring his work. He presses one more soft, close-mouthed kiss to Louis’ hole before the heat of his breath moves away.

Louis rolls over slowly, not even caring enough to move far away that he’s out of the pool of his own come. He’ll have to have a shower anyway.

He looks at Harry, balanced on his knees at the foot of the bed, and at Harry’s cock, tenting his sweatpants so obviously that he wouldn’t even be able to walk out of the room.

He did just give Louis a rather good orgasm, so Louis is feeling generous. He rubs his belly, lingering a little, and raises his eyebrows at Harry. “You wanna come?”

God, yes,” Harry says, scrambling to get his sweatpants off. Louis twists around and digs through his drawer for the lube, coming up with it just as Harry finishes kicking the pants off.

Harry’s eyes zero in on the bottle of lube. “That for me?”

Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only because he’s been rimmed into a good mood. “S’for me.”

He knows he has Harry’s complete attention as he uncaps the bottle and pours a liberal amount over his belly, making an immediate mess of both himself and the sheets.

Sometimes Harry’s a little slow on the uptake. Now is not one of those times, though. He’s coming down on top of Louis before he’s even had the chance to drop the bottle of lube, holding his cock in one hand.

His aim is always good, at least when it comes to his cock and Louis’ various body parts, and he’s rubbing his cock in the sticky mess that Louis created for him almost instantly.

“’m fucking your belly,” Harry murmurs, eyes big and fixed on the path his cock is taking.

Louis has to look too, and fuck, it’s - it looks so big, is the thing, or maybe Louis just looks tiny, but he’s big and hard and thick, pressing into Louis’ belly, dragging occasionally over Louis’ own cock, also wet with lube, still half-hard.

“You’re fucking my belly,” Louis agrees, even though it would be more accurate to say that he’s fucking Louis’ groin and hips, putting a hand down to curl around the head of Harry’s cock every time it gets close enough.

“God, you’re,” Harry groans, using his other hand to thumb over Louis’ nipples, raising them into peaks. “You. Baby.”

“Mm,” Louis agrees again, letting his eyelids slip until they’re more or less closed, and lets Harry do his thing, only vaguely watching from underneath his eyelids and his head propped up against the headboard.

It doesn’t take Harry long to come - Louis made it plenty wet for him, and he always turns himself on so much when he eats Louis out - and he fucks his way through it, come adding to the mess on Louis’ belly, and he comes so hard that he shoots all the way up Louis’ chest, one singular strand getting him in the mouth.

Harry watches it, because on top of all of his other weird sex things he has a weird sex thing for seeing Louis covered in his come, and his gaze gets a little smoky when Louis licks it up.

“Tastes good?” Harry murmurs, half his attention already back to the come covering Louis’ belly. He drags his cock through it, trying to push it into Louis’ belly button or something, Louis can’t even tell.

“Tastes like lube,” Louis says honestly, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling while Harry does his weird fuck-the-come-into-Louis’-skin thing. “And you could probably stand to eat some fruit.”

“But then I might have to give up my diet of Tomlinson arse,” Harry says, still tracing his cock through the mess. Louis wonders idly if he could stay hard long enough to fuck him again.

It’s a thought to test another time. “Both my grandmothers are still alive,” Louis says blandly.

Harry stops moving abruptly. “Every fucking time.”

Louis bites back his smile. He can’t let Harry see it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Harry mutters, rolling onto his back and flinging his arms out. One of them lands heavily on top of Louis’ stomach, still streaked with come and drying lube. It’ll probably stick if he leaves it there for too long, but for now Louis is content to lie there, sweaty and gross and covered in fluids.

He’s been in worse situations.

“I don’t,” Louis insists, wiggling his toes carefully, trying to make sure that he can still move them all.

“You ruin the mood every single time,” Harry says. The grumpiness in his tone is audible, so Louis sighs and forces himself to roll into Harry’s side, hooking his knee around Harry’s thigh.

“So what you’re saying is that you think that rubbing your cock all over me is a good idea of afterglow?” Louis asks, eeling his arm over Harry’s chest. “Where has the romance gone?”

“I really hate you,” Harry grumbles, but he cuddles Louis properly anyway, big warm arms wrapping around his back.

Louis only means to let it happen for five minutes - long enough to appease Harry but not long enough that it starts to seem like more than it is, but somehow he falls asleep like that.



“Did you pick up the rest of the paint yet?” Harry asks. Louis switches the phone to his other ear and tucks it up against his shoulder so he can use both hands.

“No, I went to get it the other day and they were all out of the red that Stephanie needs,” Louis answers, gluing a small pink heart on the dot over the I. He examines it with a critical eye and decides that yes, it does look like a seven year old girl made it. Now he just has to hit up the library and make a couple dozen copies, stick them up around campus, and wait for chaos to reign.

There’s music playing in the background on Harry’s end, something indie and awful that Louis has heard before but can’t place. “They say when it’s gonna be in?”

“Either tomorrow or Thursday,” Louis says, placing the sign to the side so it can dry properly. He stretches out his legs in front of him, and then, after he’s decided that it’s probably a good idea, bends over and touches his toes.

The looseness in his muscles afterwards is so fucking worth it.

“Kay, you wanna go tomorrow and find out?”

Tomorrow. There’s something going on tomorrow. There’s definitely something going on tomorrow.

Oh. “After five, though, I’ve got a study group.”

“The one in the library?” Harry asks. He sounds tired. Louis makes a mental note to call him in three hours and wake him up.

Maybe for phone sex, maybe not. To be a dick either way.

“Yeah,” Louis says, wiggling underneath his covers.

Harry hums, thoughtful. “And it’s done at, like, six? So I’ll pick you up at 6:15?”

Louis hangs up instead of answering. Harry will probably show up anyway.


Harry does show up, at 6:15 on the dot. He idles at the curb while Louis takes his time saying goodnight to his study group, much longer than he normally would.

Any way he can make Harry’s life more difficult is good by Louis.

Louis doesn’t get into the car until 6:30. He fiddles with his seatbelt for a minute before he clicks it into place, but even that doesn’t bother Harry, because Harry’s decided to take a nap.

At six in the evening, sitting up with the car in park. What the hell.

The only reasonable thing to do is to smack the radio on at full volume. It’s still playing that J-Pop station that Louis tuned it to a couple of months ago.

Harry jumps hard enough that he bashes his head against the steering wheel. Louis laughs, tipping his head back, for so long that he actually runs out of breath, getting wheezy from it.

“Next time I’m not going to show up,” Harry mutters, putting the car in drive and pulling away from the curb. Louis kicks off his shoes and lets his bag slide down between his legs, onto the floor, splaying out across the seat dramatically.

“You mean you’d stand me up? What kind of date are you, Styles?”

Harry barely even glances at him, too busy concentrating on driving and not getting them killed, or something. “I’m a fucking great date,” he says absently, but his eyes dart over the splay of Louis’ legs.

“Good thing you’ve never tried to date me, then,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “Would have dumped your sorry arse if your idea of a date is taking them to Tesco.”

Harry laughs, hair nearly falling into his eyes. “Good thing.”


“Tell me you’re not making another terrible sign,” Liam says suspiciously.

“I’m not making another terrible sign,” Louis parrots, gluing another tacky bright pink heart onto the poster. It’s coming along nicely. Louis might even go so far as to say that it’s his best work yet.

The artwork, that is. He can admit that the words leave a little something to be desired, but it’s not like HARRY STYLES SUCKS isn’t accurate.

“One of these days he’s going to snap and actually murder you, you do know that, right?” Liam asks. He pats Louis on the head as he goes by, like Louis is a dog or something. Louis makes a mental note to spill glitter all over Liam’s bed once the game is over.

“One of these days I’m gonna snap and murder you,” Louis retorts, rubbing his fingers together, trying get the glue off with having to wash his hands. He still has to do the glitter.

“I’m just saying,” Liam says, wandering back into the room with a bottle of water, “when he eventually does it it’ll be justifiable. Last week your sign said something about him being the worst rugby player you’ve ever seen.”

Louis spills the glitter onto the sign carelessly and lets it sit for a minute before shaking the excess away. “He is the worst rugby player I’ve ever seen.” He holds the sign up to admire it.

“He’s the only reason that anyone even goes to the games,” Liam says, like he thinks he’s being logical.

“I go to the games for Niall,” Louis says. He sets the sign down on the table carefully and examines his fingers. Definitely got more glitter on them than usual. Oh well. That just means that his sign will be even more noticeable than normal.

Liam laughs. “You go to the games to make rude signs and throw things at Harry every time he gets close enough.”

Louis wipes his hands on Liam’s jeans before he can protest. “I go the games to support Niall. The fact that Harry’s there for me to throw things at is just an added bonus.” He gets up and dashes into the bathroom before Liam can think to yell at him for making the signs in his flat again. Louis can’t make them in his room - keeping the carpet clean is one of the conditions of his employment. The last thing he needs is for his student loans to get pulled because he got glitter stuck in the rug.

He gets dressed quickly, layering up because it’s fucking cold outside, and tugs a beanie on before meeting Liam and Zayn at the door, grabbing his sign along the way.

It’s not far to the field, but they’re running a little late, so by the time they get there their usual seats have been taken. Louis glares in the general direction of the kids sitting there - freshmen, it looks like - before letting Liam pull him to some empty seats a little further up.

Louis will have to be louder than normal from here, but it’s not that big of a deal.

The team’s already warming up, running laps and stretching. He doesn’t see Harry’s number, but he does see Niall’s, so he stands up on his seat and shouts Niall’s name at the to of his lungs, until Niall spots them and breaks into a grin.

Then Harry breaks out of the crowd, so Louis hauls his sign up over his head and waves it around. Harry just blows him a kiss and turns back to his warm up.

It doesn’t take long for the game to start. It’s a disaster right from the beginning - they’re fighting for their lives from the second it starts. Louis spends most of it biting his thumbnail. By halftime his nail’s bitten down so far that it’s bleeding a little, vaguely sore.

Louis is up out of his seat the second the ref blows the whistle, meeting Harry half way between the field and the stands.

“What the hell was that?” he demands, shoving at Harry’s chest. “You’re playing like shit.”

“I’m having a shit day,” Harry says.

There’s a lot of things that Louis could say to that. Instead, he looks at his watch. There’s another thirteen minutes until the second half of the game starts. “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing onto Harry’s hand and pulling him through the crowd, past the rest of his team.

“Tomlinson!” The coach bellows. Louis clutches Harry’s hand and pulls him faster. “Tomlinson, he better be back here in twelve minutes or else you’re both dead!”

Louis flaps a hand over his shoulder and breaks into a run, pulling Harry along behind him. He sprints them the rest of the way back to the locker room, bursting through the doors and not stopping until he can shove Harry down onto a bench.

“Think you can come in ten minutes?” he asks, dropping down to his knees between Harry’s thighs.

“Think it’s a terrible fucking idea to try,” Harry says, but he’s already fumbling to get his cock out.

Louis rolls his eyes and shoves his hand out of the way, jerking him a couple of times to get him on his way. “Can you drive me to Tesco later?” he asks.

Harry huffs and wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, nudging it towards Louis’ mouth. “Can we concentrate on the issue at hand, please?”

“I’m just saying, I’m doing you a favour, I should get one in return,” Louis grumbles, but he opens his mouth and sucks the head in regardless. Harry’s fingers tangle in his hair immediately.

It doesn’t take much to get Harry fully hard. A little bit of soft sucking on the head always gets him there, and this time is no different. He takes a little more in, jaw stretching and already starting to ache a little.

Harry’s hand presses him down further, slowly and gently, until he’s swallowing around the head of Harry’s cock almost compulsively, trying to get used to the stretch. Harry just holds him there, breathing hard above Louis’ head. He doesn’t have good blowjob etiquette, Harry, but then again he never really has.

It’s doesn’t really matter, anyway. It’s rude to push someone’s head down while they’re blowing you, but Louis likes it. Louis has always liked it, and it took Harry about five seconds to figure that out, the first time Louis had gone down on him.

Louis’ eyes slip closed. He breathes through his nose, tongue slipping up against a vein the best that it can with a throat full of cock. It’s never been particularly hard, sucking cock, but it’s never been easier than it is with Harry. It’s strange, being able to take him down this easily - the only other time Louis has tried deep throating ten inches of cock he’d nearly thrown up.

He’s never had that problem with Harry, though, which makes it even easier to let his eyes stay closed and lose himself to it.

By the time he remembers to blink his eyes back open and look at his watch, they’re nearly out of time. It takes more effort than he’s willing to admit to pull up and let the head slip out from between his lips.

Louis should have realized that this would be a bad fucking idea.

He rubs his palms over Harry’s thighs, ignoring the way they’re trembling, and starts tucking him back into his jock.

“Baby,” Harry slurs. Louis glances up. Harry’s biting down on his fist, which actually makes a whole lot of sense. It really was too quiet for a while there. “You. That’s. I wanna come.”

Louis can’t resist ducking his head back in and giving Harry’s cock a kiss over the material. It really is a nice cock. Louis should be nicer to it. “If you get your shit together and win the game I’ll let you fuck me in the shower after all the boys are gone,” he tells Harry’s cock.

Above his head, Harry’s breathing stutters. “Tell me you’re being serious,” he demands. His hand slides around from the back of Louis’ head to cup his jaw and tilt his head up so they’re looking at each other properly.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Why would I say something like that and not follow through on it?”

“Last week you said you were gonna ride me after you got the lube from your car and two hours later you called me from the dorm demanding that I bring you tea.”

He had. In his defense, though, he’d remembered that one of the kids was planning on dropping by, and he’d already bailed on her once when he’d had to go rescue Niall from an abandoned stretch of road after his car broke down, so it’s not really his fault.

He wants to defend himself, but they don’t really have the time for this particular argument, so instead he plants another open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s cock and pushes himself to his feet.

“If you don’t leave now you’re going to be late for the second half of the game,” Louis says. Harry swears and fumbles around until his kit’s sitting mostly right. He pushes past Louis and runs for the door, but not before pressing a fast, hard kiss to Louis’ mouth.

Louis sits down in the still warm spot Harry just vacated and bites his own wrist as he pulls himself off into his own hand. Just because Harry’s not getting any until the game’s over doesn’t mean that Louis has to follow the same set of rules.


Harry’s like a beast during the second half of the game, scoring all over the place. They get their last goal with two minutes to spare, and the entire crowd is on their feet. Louis stands up on his seat and waves his sign over his head as obnoxiously as he possibly can, making booing noises when Harry catches sight of him.

Harry looks like he’s about five seconds away from barging into the crowd so he can either give Louis a smack or just fuck him with everyone watching, so Louis stuffs the sign into Liam’s hand, warning him not to ruin it, and scampers off towards the locker room.

It’s one promise that he’s going to keep.


They end up having to wait a solid half hour for everyone to clear out of the locker rooms. Louis hangs around, talking shit with some of the boys, aware of Harry’s eyes on his back the entire time. Clearly the boys know what they’re about to do - the way they jostle Harry makes it pretty obvious, but no one actually makes a comment.

Harry heads off to the showers early enough that his skin is already going to be pruny by the time Louis makes it in there, and Louis waits patiently until the room’s empty, absolutely not jiggling his knee while he ignores the knowing glances.

The second that Justin leaves, clapping Louis on the shoulder as he goes, Louis gets to his feet, already stripping his shirt off over his head.

He’s managed to get himself completely naked by the time he gets to the showers, clothes discarded in a way that’s going to make it next to impossible to find all of them later. He’ll have to steal Harry’s and then make a break for it before he realizes.

“Took you long enough,” Harry says, hair slicked down to his head, water pulsing over him. He’s unashamedly hard, cock curving up against his belly.

Louis tuts and steps up beside Harry, fiddling with the control on the shower next to him. “What were you gonna do if one of your boys came in here and saw you like this?” he chides, turning the spray on and letting it wash over his wrist before he deems it an acceptable temperature and steps underneath it.

He knows what he looks like - hair matted to his forehead, body wet, completely naked - and he’s been teasing Harry for the past two hours, but somehow he’s still surprised when Harry shoves him up against the wall, fast and hard, pinning him easily.

“They wouldn’t have been surprised,” Harry says, surprisingly evenly for how turned on he must be. How turned on he feels pressed up against Louis’ arse. “Not when you’ve been shaking your arse at me all night.”

“Harold, please,” Louis says, making a concentrated effort on keeping his voice steady and even, “I don’t have to shake my bum at you to get you like this. Like a thirteen year old boy, you are, always ready to go.”

“Did you ever consider,” Harry says, dragging his mouth up to Louis’ ear, “that maybe I’m always ready to go because the second you get me in your sights you make it your mission to give me an inappropriate erection?”

Louis scrapes his fingernails across the tile, considering it. He could probably get off just like this, with Harry’s thick cock pressing against him, pinned against a wall so well he probably couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. His cock is hard between his legs, little flittery butterflies already dancing in his stomach.

“I think you’ve mistaken me with a different kind of girl, Styles,” Louis says. His voice breaks a little.

Harry hums into his ear and slips a hand between his belly and the wall, pulling him back into his hips properly. “Know exactly what kind of girl you are.”

“Tell me you brought lube,” Louis demands abruptly. He feels small in Harry’s hands, spreading out across his hips.

There’s a pause. “You mean you haven’t fingered yourself open yet?”

Louis uses his elbow as the sharp and pointy weapon it’s meant to be until he’s gained himself enough space to escape Harry’s arms. “I can’t believe you didn’t bring lube, Harold. A boy offers you an arse as sweet as this one and you don’t even come prepared. I gotta do everything around here, don’t I.”

He scampers to dig through Harry’s gym bag, wet and dripping all over the floor. He’s barely even started pulling everything out, already shivering, when Harry’s arms wrap around his stomach.

Louis stills, barely leaning back into Harry’s embrace. “If you want to get laid you’re gonna apologize.”

Harry’s chest is warm, somehow, even though it’s fucking freezing in here and he’s still wet. Louis leans back into him a little more. “I’m sorry I forgot to bring the lube, baby,” Harry says obediently, lips brushing across Louis’ ear. “Want me to make it up to you?”

There’s so many things he could mean by that, so many options.

“No,” Louis says, because if he says yes then Harry will definitely get distracted and shower sex won’t happen.

“Aww, yes you do,” Harry says, biting down on Louis’ earlobe gently. “Want me to convince you?”

They’re so naked, kneeling on the dirty floor in the smelly men’s locker room. Anyone could walk in and see them like this and think that they’ve already fucked.

They probably wouldn’t even really be able to see anything of Louis - Harry’s between him and the door, and the last time someone had walked in on them Harry had startled and tried to cover Louis’ entire body with his even though they weren’t even naked.

“No,” Louis repeats, tugging at Harry’s hands to see if he can loosen his grip any. “I want shower sex.”

Harry’s grip does loosen, but slowly enough that it’s obvious that he’s only doing it because he feels like it. “Yeah, but, like, what if I convinced you in the shower?”

Louis sucks in a slow breath. “Thought the plan was to fuck in the showers all fast and dirty-like.”

“Oh, it’ll be plenty dirty,” Harry promises, slipping his hands up Louis’ chest and coaxing him up onto his feet.

The walk back to the still-running shower is almost excruciatingly long. Harry’s wandering hands don’t help, slipping back down Louis’ stomach to slide over his cock, petting him nice and warm, until his thighs are trying to spread to give him room despite the fact that they’re moving.

It’s still warm underneath the running water, which is good, or else Louis would have been forced to call this entire thing off. Nothing quite like getting hypothermia in the middle of what could have been a seriously good fuck.

“So what is this dirty thing you’re gonna convince me with?” Louis asks, once they’re sufficiently wet again.

Harry kisses him instead of answering, tilting Louis’ face out of the spray so he doesn’t inhale a mouthful of water. Louis ends up pinned up against the wall again, but this time he barely notices, too busy clutching onto Harry’s shoulders and trying not to slip.

Kissing’s all well and good, and they’ve spent their fair share of time snogging until their mouths are numb, quiet and in Harry’s bed with the covers pulled up around their shoulders, but right now Louis wants something else.

“Come on,” Louis says, reaching down to grope at Harry’s cock a little, fully hard, not even losing a little bit of its thickness from the journey over here.

Good. If he wasn’t completely hard from rubbing up against Louis’ arse along the way he’d be very insulted.

“Gonna take my time with you, Tommo,” Harry whispers, trying to catch his mouth again. “Gonna be proper fucked out, you.”

“Water’ll get cold,” Louis says, trying to ignore the way his body’s already pushing into Harry’s hands, eager for anything Harry will give him.

The shock of Harry’s teeth against the underside of his jaw has him arching up into Harry’s hands even more, practically trying to get Harry to pick him up.

Actually, that’s an excellent fucking idea. He hitches his thigh up around Harry’s hip, bending himself in a way that feels awkward but must look awesome, judging from the way Harry’s eyes darken.

“That’s the best part of being on the lacrosse team,” Harry says, eyes fixed on where Louis’ cock is lying flushed against his belly. Louis wiggles a little, pleased when Harry’s eyes follow his movement. “Unlimited hot water.”

“Not the birds then?” Louis asks, wiggling again. It’s a strain to link his fingers around Harry’s neck, what with the way he’s leaning, but he does it anyway, watching Harry bite his bottom lip absently.

“You ever thought about getting a belly button ring?” Harry asks suddenly, letting go of Louis’ left hip in favour of palming over his belly, cock brushing the back of his hand.

God. This fucking kid gets so distracted it’s ridiculous. “What are you even going on about?”

Harry sinks to his knees abruptly enough that Louis nearly topples over. His leg goes sliding over Harry’s shoulder, slick and smooth from the water. Harry catches him in time, holding him with one big hand on his knee until he’s steady enough to support his own weight.

Well. Most of it.

“You’d look so pretty with jewellery here,” Harry says, scraping his teeth over Louis’ belly.

Louis resists the urge to shiver and plants one hand in Harry’s hair. It doesn’t feel like it normally does, matted down to his scalp with water, but he manages to slide his fingers into it anyway.


“You don’t even know, baby,” Harry murmurs, nosing his way down to Louis’ cock. “Love that you get smooth all over for me.”

It’s not for him, but before Louis can tell him that he sucks Louis’ cock into his mouth, going down on him with no hesitation at all.

Louis totally doesn’t get smooth for him, anyway. Just because he’d done it on a dare just before the first time they’d fucked and Harry had been obsessed with how it felt doesn’t mean anything. Louis likes it too.

Harry’s mouth is hot and wet and tight around his cock, sucking so good that Louis’ head nearly bangs against the wall when he tips it back.

Then it feels good for another two seconds before he starts spluttering and spitting out water, nearly wiping out as he tries to avoid falling and killing both of them.

Maybe shower sex wasn’t such a good idea.

Harry steadies him before anything bad happens, though, pulling off of Louis’ cock and sucking a kiss to the inside of his thigh. “Y’alright baby?”

Louis breathes through his nose and keeps his eyes closed. His cock didn’t flag in the slightest, despite his near drowning. “Mmhm.”

“Wanna feel even better?” Harry asks, and Louis doesn’t need his eyes open to be able to see Harry’s eyebrows wiggling ridiculously. He reaches out and forces them down blindly, still not opening his eyes.

If he doesn’t give in Harry will probably keep pushing until they either fight for real or Louis gives in anyway, only half an hour later than Harry wanted. “’kay.”

“Okay,” Harry murmurs, pressing another kiss to the same spot on Louis’ thigh before easing his leg down and tapping his hip. “Turn around, yeah?”

It’s pretty obvious where this is going, but it’s probably going to feel so nice, what with the water cascading down over them. He turns around and braces himself against the wall, sliding over a few inches until he finds a cool spot, one that hasn’t been leaned against for the past fifteen minutes.

“That’s real good, sweetheart,” Harry drawls, and Louis would smack him for that, he would, but Harry’s hands are on his arse, spreading him apart with ease. He presses a tiny, soft little kiss against Louis’ hole, one that’s way too gentle and sweet for the type of relationship that they have, before licking him firmly, tongue flat against Louis’ rim.

“Babe,” Louis slurs, burying his face into his arms. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, exactly, helpless and turned on.

“Shh,” Harry murmurs, licking him again. “Gonna make you feel real good, alright?”

Louis can’t - he can’t stay still for this, feet slipping all over the place in the water, scrambling to find footing without his brain’s co-operation, and he needs - he needs help, or else he’ll fall and kill them both.

“Haz,” he says, dropping one hand down to search for a part of Harry that he can hold on to. He finds Harry’s shoulder, and that’s good enough, so he squeezes as tight as he can manage with the tingling in his fingers.

“S’okay,” Harry hums, wrapping one of his ginormous hands around Louis’ ankle and anchoring him to the ground, firm enough that Louis stops feeling like he’s going to fall. “Better?”

Louis breathes into his arm and loosens his grip on Harry’s shoulder. He doesn’t let go. “Better. Yes. All systems go.”

“That’s real good, baby, because I’ve been looking forward to getting a taste of this arse all night,” Harry says, and doesn’t waste any more time before diving back in, swiping his tongue over Louis’ rim fast and rough.

He probably knows exactly how good this makes Louis feel, warm wet tongue on his hole, trying to get him open enough that he can get inside, hot water washing down over him, falling apart in Harry’s hands.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” Harry says. His voice echoes in the empty room, sending prickles of heat up Louis’ spine.

“Best tasting arse you’ve ever eaten,” Louis says. It comes out a little pleadingly, like he wants Harry to tell him rather than as a statement of fact.

Harry licks him a couple more times, coaxing him open a little bit more. “Every part of you is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says softly. Two fingers slip in between Louis cheeks to ghost over his hole, barely more than a fleeting touch before they come back again, firmer and slicker.

He wiggles his tongue inside, petting over his rim with his fingers, and he can’t get to Louis’ prostate like this but he has Louis’ legs shaking anyway, nearly uncontrollably, cock so wet he’s dripping.

“You want a finger?” Harry asks, scraping his teeth in places that really shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

God. If Louis doesn’t get a finger he feels like might drown. “I want three fingers.”

Harry presses one finger into him before he answers. Louis inhales something much less than steadily, fingers twitching on Harry’s shoulder.

“Perfect greedy boy,” he says, exhaling warm and right over Louis’ hole. He spends another minute opening Louis up around that one finger before pushing in with a second one, thick and so fucking nice.

He opens Louis up quick and easy with those two fingers, spreading them out and fucking them in and back out slowly. The flush on the back of Louis’ neck tells him that Harry is definitely watching it, watching how his fingers look thick and pressed up tight in Louis’ hole.

“Another,” Louis gasps, pressing his burning face into his arm harder. “Gimme ‘nother.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, gonna give you whatever you want,” Harry says, pushing a third finger in. His knees must be hurting him, but he’s not complaining, even though he’s been down there for ages.

Harry’s fingers stroke over his prostate immediately, always capable of finding the spots inside of Louis’ body that makes him shiver and fall apart right away.

“Tell me when you want cock,” Harry says, smiling into Louis’ bum hard enough that Louis can feel it.

It’s absolutely not sexy. It’s not, no matter what Louis’ cock thinks. Louis’ cock isn’t a good judge of character, though, and that’s the only reason that they’re even here right now.

“A minute,” Louis tells the wall quietly. “Just - a minute, yeah.”

A minute so he can get fingered real nice and slow, because Harry promised that he was going to make him proper fucked out.

Harry hums and fingers him quietly, definitely still looking at the way his fingers have stretched Louis out, enough that his cock will definitely fit there.

“Okay,” Louis says, trying to find a place he can grip the wall, a place he can hold on to. Harry presses another kiss to his hole around his fingers, tender and open-mouthed, before he pulls his fingers out, slow enough that Louis feels every ridge.

There’s a few seconds of fumbling that must be Harry dealing with the rubber after he stands up, leaving Louis breathing into the wet wall and trying to ignore the way his skin has started to shrivel, just the tiniest bit.

Not his cock, of course. His cock is still as hard as it’s ever been.

“Ready?” Harry asks, pressing up close, head of his prick dragging tantalizingly over Louis’ skin.

Louis opens his mouth to say something equally scathing as it is encouraging, but the heat of Harry’s body is abruptly just - gone.

“What,” he slurs, blinking water out of his eyelashes. “Harry?”

“Shh, baby, I’m right here,” Harry says immediately, hands landing back on Louis’ hips. Louis relaxes into the wall again. “Just gonna - turn around, alright?”

“Why?” Louis asks, even as Harry’s hands are coaxing him around, slow and gentle on his skin.

He has to look up to see Harry’s face, but the way Harry’s towering over him means that he doesn’t get a spray of water in the face, at least. “Like this.”

It wouldn’t be the first time that they’ve fucked like this - with Louis’ legs wrapped around Harry’s hips, back up against a wall, trusting that Harry can support his weight - but in a shower?

“What if you slip?”

Harry kisses him, wet hands against Louis’ wet face. “Not gonna slip when I’ve got cargo as precious as you.”

Louis mostly hates everything about that statement. He’s not cargo, that’s for sure, but there’s something about being called precious that his cock doesn’t exactly disagree with.

There’s something more pressing at hand than any of that, though. “How do you know?”

“You mean aside from the way you’d never let me live it down?” Harry asks, brushing their mouths together again. “You’re tiny. You don’t weigh enough to throw off my balance.”

“I really fucking hate you,” Louis grouses. He lets Harry guide his right thigh up around his hip, and doesn’t protest when his hand wraps underneath the other one and lifts him up off the ground, despite the way his heart is in his throat.

“I know,” Harry says, and doesn’t waste any time lining them up properly so he can start pushing inside.

Louis’ head tips back again, but this time he doesn’t even notice the water streaming over his face, too busy relishing the feeling of Harry’s thick cock spreading him open.

Harry pushes in the same way he always does, slow and steady, fingers gripping Louis’ skin, always gripping Louis’ skin no matter what position they’re in.

For a minute, Louis forgets that he has hands. Then, after Harry’s made a soft noise, he loosens his grip, rubbing his fingertips over the spots on Harry’s shoulders that he was clutching.

“Ready?” Harry asks again, curving his hands so he’s holding onto Louis’ bum proper.

The feeling of Harry’s cock inside of him, blunt and thick and already pressing right up against his prostate, is already so good that, given a couple minutes, Louis could probably come from it.

He’s been waiting all fucking day for this, though, and now that he finally has it he’s not going to give it up, even if he comes embarrassingly quickly.

“Gotta tell you how to do everything, don’t I,” Louis starts, voice only wavering a little.

“Oh, baby, I know how to fuck you,” Harry says, cutting him off. He angles Louis a little better and starts fucking him straight away with deep, fast thrusts that hit Louis’ prostate. Every. Single. Time.

Louis manages to hold off for two minutes, pleasure building in his spine with every thrust, only barely remembering to hold on so he doesn’t go skidding across the wall.

He gets loud when he comes, he knows, and if he had the presence of mind to be grateful that they’re alone he would be. He doesn’t, though, so he just tightens his thighs around Harry’s back and nearly fucking wails out his orgasm, only silenced by Harry’s mouth on his at the tail end of it.

“Love it when you do that,” Harry says, not letting up even for a second. It always feels different after he’s come - full and shockingly pleasant, and he’s always more capable of really concentrating on it after he’s got his.

“Yeah? Feels nice for you?” Louis murmurs, locking his arms behind Harry’s neck. He likes it like this, he’s decided, when the only thing he has to do is get bounced along with Harry’s thrusts and try not to inhale water.

Although the water is actually getting a little on the cold side now. Trust Harry to be wrong about how much hot water this place holds.

Harry’s laugh is a little raspy. He must be almost there. “When you come on my cock? Yeah, Lou. Best thing I’ve ever felt.”

Louis winds his fingers through Harry’s hair and concentrates on leeching as much body heat from Harry as humanly possible. The fullness in his arse is a little dizzying, a little overwhelming, especially when Harry keeps nailing his prostate, over and over, like he doesn’t even know there’s any other spots for his cock to press against.

“But, like,” Louis says, not even really sure where he’s going with this, “even before you’re ready?”

“You mean,” Harry says, pulling Louis’ thigh up from where it’s threatening to slip, “when you come from barely being fucked, you just love it that much? And then when you let me keep fucking you even though you must be hurting at least a little?”

Louis drags Harry’s head towards him a little numbly, trying to line their mouths up so they can kiss and failing, mostly. Mainly because Harry’s thrusts have turned short and jerky, the way they always do when he’s about to come, so all he’s really capable of breathing into Louis’ mouth and biting him, a little.

“When you just hold still and let me do whatever I want to you,” Harry continues, mumbling the words into Louis’ mouth. “Feels super nice for me.”

He always gets a little oversensitive after he’s come - vulnerable - but that’s still no excuse for the way that his eyes water, a little, before he blinks it away. It’s probably just the water from the shower. That’s the only reasonable explanation.


“Like nothing else,” Harry confirms, tugging Louis’ lower lip in between his teeth.

Louis’ noise is a little too whimpery for his liking, but if Harry wants to come anytime this century he’ll let it slide.

Harry doesn’t say anything, though, just keeps fucking into Louis with those short, hard jabs. “You can come now,” Louis decides, rather magnanimously. Harry huffs out a quiet laugh and presses his face into Louis’ neck.

“Thanks, baby,” he says, the words rumbling through Louis’ body. “Sweet of you.”

It is sweet of Louis, and to prove exactly how sweet he is he clenches down around Harry’s cock, enjoying the way it throbs inside of him, until Harry’s breath is stuttering against his neck and he’s shoving in as deep as he can get, clutching Louis in his hands so tight there’s bound to bruises in the morning.

Harry rides out his orgasm like that, with Louis all caught up in his arms, on his cock, the water cooling by the second. Louis pets him through it, slipping his fingers down the nape of Harry’s neck and over his shoulders, until Harry’s breathing has returned to normal and he shifts enough to slip his cock out of Louis’ arse but not enough to let him down.

“C’mere,” Harry murmurs, like there’s any closer they can get. Louis lets him guide their mouths together anyway, and they snog like that, with Louis’ toes steadily getting number and number, until the water turns to ice.

He forces Harry to carry him back over to the benches and dry him off thoroughly, fingers sliding over Louis’ body in a way that would probably feel really good if he wasn’t so cold.

There’s a moment, when Harry’s kneeling between his spread thighs, concentrating on drying his legs, where it seems like round two might be eminent, but he still can’t feel his toes, so he lets Harry put a pair of clean socks on him and calls it a day.


Harry drives him back to the dorm, lingering until Louis has managed to get the door unlocked and then closed behind him, and it took some convincing to get him to stay there instead of walking Louis all the way to his room.

Louis flips him off before disappearing down the hallway. Once he’s had a good twelve hours of sleep he’ll think of another way to fuck with Harry’s stuff.



To say that Louis is nervous isn’t exactly an understatement, but it’s not exactly an over-statement either.

Wait. Is an over-statement even a thing?

Whatever. The point is that Louis has literally been planning this all year and now that it’s finally time his palms are a little bit sweaty. There’s people milling around aimlessly, waiting for the show to start and for their bits to come up. The sound and lighting crew are running around yelling at people to get out of their way while they re-wire - something. Louis should probably be more concerned about that. Liam’s heading it this year, though, even though he keeps saying that he’s not, and Liam is nothing if not reliable.

“Has anyone seen Harry?” Louis yells, not to anyone in particular. One of the girls from the Shakespeare skit waves a hand over her shoulder, though, so Louis heads in that direction, wiping his hands on his trousers. Hopefully it won’t leave an ugly sweat stain. Perrie’d kill him.

He finds Harry and immediately wishes that he hadn’t. “I might actually murder you,” he says. A couple of the more nervous freshmen scamper, pins still held in their hands.

“You’re scaring everyone,” Harry says.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Louis repeats. “You were supposed to be dressed half an hour ago. I’m not sure whether you know this, but standing around in your pants isn’t even anywhere close to being dressed, I don’t think you understand how important this is, if this doesn’t - ”

He’s cut off by Harry’s mouth pressing against his firmly, hand tangling in Louis’ hair and tipping his head back. Probably Louis should stop this and yell at Harry some more, but the only thing he does is let Harry coax his mouth open gently.

Harry holds him still while he kisses him, soft, sweet presses of his tongue to Louis’, until Louis is feeling overheated and a little dizzy, clinging to Harry’s bare shoulders.

“There’s an hour and a half left until showtime,” Harry murmurs, giving Louis’ bottom lip one last little kiss. “I have plenty of time to get ready. Now go apologize to Susie and Marcie and leave us alone.”

Louis goes. He doesn’t apologize, mostly because he doesn’t come across either Susie or Marcie, but also a little because he’s kind of out of it for a while.

It’s not like he can’t get things done, but he’s definitely got a healthy flush going on that Niall catcalls every time he gets a glimpse of.

He doesn’t even think about his nerves again until they’re about to step foot on the stage.


They exceed their fundraising goal by twenty percent.


Zayn’s droning on about a date he had with this ‘totally awesome girl, Lou, you’d love her’ yesterday, like Louis doesn’t know that it was with Perrie, and Louis has been mostly tuned out for the past fifteen minutes.

It’s the fifth time he’s heard this exact story, so he doesn’t think he can be blamed.

It only takes another minute of Zayn waxing poetic about the colour of her dyed hair before Louis snaps. “I haven’t even had a date in like fifty years,” he moans to the pillow, trying to smash his face even further into it. Maybe he and the pillow can become one. That seems like something that could happen.

There’s a pause. “Lou, you have a date like every week,” Zayn says eventually. Louis rolls over so he can squint up at him suspiciously. Maybe that fourth joint was a bad idea.

“I haven’t had a date since sophomore year,” Louis laments. “That Danny guy, do you remember him? He had such a nice face. I wonder what happened to him.”

There’s an even longer pause. Then, “Lou, you had a lunch date yesterday. You have a standing lunch date every Wednesday. You make Harry buy you the red pepper dip from Nando’s before you’ll even let him sit down.”

Louis flaps a hand above his head “That’s not a date. Harry’s my mortal enemy, you know that.”

“Maybe you should consider making your mortal enemy a guy you’re not dating,” Zayn says. “Stay still, you’re fucking up my piece.”

Louis stills with an annoyed noise. He really regrets agreeing to sit for Zayn’s painting. “I meet with Harry every week so I can force him to tell me whether the Phi’s are at risk of out pranking me.”

“You meet with Harry every week so he’ll buy you food and kiss you a little in your booth in the food court before you go to your stats class,” Zayn counters. “Granted, it’s not much of a date, but it’s a standing one.”

Louis huffs out a breath and jiggles his leg impatiently. He really should have just said no when Zayn asked him to do this instead of letting himself get talked into it. He’s a pretty shitty model.

“I do make him buy me food, but that’s because he’s super rich,” Louis says. “It’s an exchange of goods. I put up with him for an hour while I pry information out of him and he buys me red pepper dip and tea.”

“Ignoring the fact that all of those things only benefit you, you don’t pry anything out of him. I walked by you guys last week and you were arguing about whether Spiderman was better than Superman,” Zayn says. He lets his paintbrush clatter onto his easel, making a frustrated noise. “You really suck as a subject, you know that?”

Louis gets up and cracks his back. “I told you that.” He thinks that the conversation is done - the really ludicrous conversation - but Zayn opens his mouth again, staring at Louis suspiciously. The weed makes them both a little paranoid sometimes.

“Didn’t he take you to see 22 Jump Street last week?” Zayn demands. “And, like, I’m pretty sure that he took you to that fancy Italian place for dinner a couple weeks ago. He made you get all dressed up and everything. You wore the black and white braces and the maroon pants from your twink days. Don’t even try to tell me that you didn’t get laid after that dinner, either. That’s your getting laid outfit.”

Louis tries to cut in and fails. “So, like, what, that’s dinner at an exceedingly posh restaurant and going home with him after. That’s definitely a date,” Zayn finishes.

Louis opens his mouth to deny it and just. Stops. They did do all of that stuff. After that dinner Louis got his wrists bound together by his own braces and eaten out for half an hour before Harry had fucked him into a whimpering mess. He’d literally gotten a slow clap from the Phi’s gathered in the kitchen when he’d made his way downstairs in the morning.

“He’s dating me,” Louis says. He struggles to sit up.

Zayn’s packing away his brushes. “He’s dating you pretty hard.”

“Has he been dating me the entire time?” Louis demands. He feels less shocked than he probably should, but he thinks that can also be explained on the weed. It really is very good weed.

“Do I look like a relationship counselor to you?” Zayn asks, smudging paint across his cheekbone as he scratches it.

“Zayn,” Louis says.

“Look, I dunno, alright? He’s been dating you a while. He warns guys off of you.”

Louis blinks. “I knew there was a reason that no one’s asked me out!” He crosses the room and starts gathering up his keys and wallet and phone, shoving all of it into random pockets.

Zayn watches him warily. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go embarrass the shit out of him until he admits that he’s been stealth dating me in the middle of the quad,” Louis says. Zayn’s expression is blank.

“You just realized that he’s been dating you for at least a year and your first reaction is to go make him admit it? Don’t you think you need to figure out what you want to do first?” Zayn asks. Louis jams his feet into his shoes, forgoing his socks. If he gets a blister he’ll just make Harry rub his feet later.

“He came to dinner when my mum brought the girls up to visit. I went home with home for a week during the summer. I don’t know why no one bothered to tell me that we’re dating, but this is some serious, committed relationship type shit,” Louis says. “I’m gonna go embarrass him until he admits to it, break up with him for everyone to see and make him spend a week groveling at my feet before I take him back.”

Zayn intercepts him before he can get to the door. “Let’s start with the first step of that plan,” he says. “I don’t actually think that you’re capable of embarrassing him into admitting anything. When you dared him to dress up like Miley Cyrus for the Halloween party he just shrugged and did it. He’s not exactly the type of person who embarrasses easy. If you try to get him to admit to stealth dating you in the middle of the quad I’m pretty sure that he’ll just admit to it and kiss you to shut you up.”

“If he kisses me in the middle of the quad I’m going to hit him in the balls,” Louis says happily. He grabs for the door handle and opens it, nearly hitting Zayn in the back in the process.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “He kisses you in the middle of the quad all the time,” he says, exasperated. “Also, do you really think it’s a good idea to break up with everyone on the off chance he’ll grovel until you decide to take him back?”

It’s Louis’ turn to roll his eyes, now. “Did you miss the part where I said that he came to dinner with my mum and my sisters?” Harry is literally the only guy Louis has ever purposefully introduced to his mum and sisters.

“You introduced him to your mum and sisters but yet you didn’t realize that you were dating him?” Zayn asks. His voice is getting higher and higher, climbing with every passing word, like he can’t believe Louis is this stupid.

They hit the sidewalk and start towards the middle of campus, where Harry hangs out with the rugby crowd in between his classes. “I’ve been busy,” Louis says defensively.

“Why am I friends with you?” Zayn moans, but he stays at Louis’ side as the back of Harry’s head starts coming into view.

Louis smiles. “Because I’m about to make a giant scene and you want to watch?” he suggests, breaking into a run. Zayn doesn’t follow, because Zayn doesn’t run when he doesn’t have to.

Harry turns around a minute before he gets there, smile already lighting up his face the instant he sees Louis. He catches Louis, barely even stumbling, when Louis smacks into him full force.

“Thought you were hanging out with Zayn,” Harry says, gripping Louis’ thighs and hauling him right up off the ground. Louis laughs, shocked, and clutches onto Harry’s hips as hard as he can.

Life goes on around them. No one so much as even blinks. Nearly the entire rugby team’s scattered within seeing distance, friends and significant others hanging around, and no one even blinks.

He does actually mean to make a big scene and throw a fit. He’s a drama major, alright, he lives for making a scene. “You’re dating me,” he says instead. If their faces were any closer he’d miss the smile taking over Harry’s mouth, but they’re exactly the right distance apart to see it clearly.

“I’m dating you,” Harry agrees. Louis can feel his hands linked, resting just below the curve of Louis’ arse to hold him up.

“How long have you been dating me for?” Louis demands. He slips his arms around Harry’s neck and holds on. Someone mutters something unflattering behind them about Louis being stupid - it sounds like Zayn, actually - but they both ignore it.

“I started dating you halfway through my first year,” Harry says. “The first time I saw you, you were standing on a table in the middle of a frat party organizing a dance off and you made me do the worm. You were like, completely sober, but you kept yelling about how someone needed to show you some real dance moves or else no one was getting any cake even though there was no cake and - ”

“Are you about to call me pretty?” Louis interrupts. They’ve gathered a crowd, now. Louis is pretty sure that Zayn’s actually filming on his phone.

“You’re so pretty,” Harry says. He’s smiling so hard his dimples are about to pop right out of his cheeks. “You’re pretty and annoying and a pain in the arse and none of that is what I was going to say.”

“There was cake,” Louis says, because Harry’s totally lying about not having been about to say Louis is pretty, but he’s in a gracious mood. He’ll let it slide. “I made Liam get some from the store.”

“Liam hadn’t gotten it yet, though,” Harry argues. Louis pulls his hair. “Ow, stop that.”

Of course, that means Louis should do it again, so he does, and gets a pinch on the bum in return. “Just listen to me,” Harry orders, pinching Louis’ bum again.

“Okay,” Louis agrees.

“So you were telling everyone that they couldn’t have cake unless they showed you a good dance move, and I showed you a frankly epic dance move but you wouldn’t let me have any cake all night even though you let Zayn have cake - ”

“Hey,” Zayn shouts from somewhere behind them.

“ - and I asked you out and you said no,” Harry continues. “So, like, whatever, I let it go, and you kept turning up to frat parties even though you aren’t in a frat, and I rushed the one that you went to most, and I ended up being Niall’s roommate, and by then you’d already adopted Niall as your own, so you were there like, all of the time, and you were always making fun of me and messing with me - ”

“Because you needed to be messed with,” Louis interrupts. “Also, you’re making yourself sound like a stalker, so great job on the storytelling.”

“Just be quiet,” Harry orders, but his smile isn’t in danger of slipping. “Then I got my own room in the frat ‘cause someone got kicked out, and the day after I moved all of my stuff I came home and nearly broke my neck slipping on the shaving cream you left all over the floor and after that you started pranking me non-stop.”

Louis knows his face is making a weird, overjoyed expression, but he can’t get it to stop. “I was there for all of this, Harry,” he says.

“They were such dumb pranks, too,” Harry says. “I would have probably snapped on you after the third time if we hadn’t started having sex. I asked you another five times or something if you’d go out with me and you just kept pinching me and laughing maniacally every time so I decided to just date you anyway.”

“You can’t date someone without their permission, Harry,” Louis says. He really wants a kiss but he can wait until Harry finishes his dumb story.

“You can’t date someone normal without their permission,” Harry says. “Half the time I’m not even convinced that you’re human.”

It sounds like an insult. If it was coming from anyone but Harry it probably would be an insult, but it’s not and there’s no way that they would have lasted nearly as long as they have if Harry wasn’t himself, even though Louis didn’t know they were a thing.

“Do you warn guys off of me?” Louis asks. “Do you tell guys that they can’t ask me out ‘cause we’re together?”

Harry looks thoughtful. “I told one guy that he didn’t want to ask you out because you’re a major pain in the arse. Does that count as warning him off?”

Louis can’t deal with this. He slaps his hands against the back of Harry’s head and demands, “Put me down, put me down,” and wiggles until his feet are back on the ground.

He doesn’t hesitate before asking, “Do you love me?”

Harry’s grin seems like it’s going break his face in half. “I love you,” he agrees easily, like he’s just spent the last year waiting for Louis to catch up with the program.

“Okay,” Louis says, and slaps Harry’s chest as hard as he can. Harry makes a vaguely hurt, surprised noise. “I’m gonna make a baby.” He spins on his heels and takes off in the direction of the Alpha Beta Phi house in a flat out run, ducking a couple low hanging branches and swerving around a few passersby.

Harry crashes into his back about halfway there, toppling them both to the ground. If he wants to get laid he better not say anything about Louis letting him catch up - the only perk to be small is also being fast. The only way that Harry would ever be able to outrun him is if Louis broke a bone.

Or if he decided to let Harry. “You’re such a little shit,” Harry pants into the back of Louis’ neck, trying to shove his hand between Louis’ stomach and the ground. Louis wiggles as unhelpfully as he can.

“Isn’t she lovely,” Louis sings softly to the ground, “isn’t she wonderful.” He feels Harry’s breath catch against his neck, which can only be a good thing, so he continues, “isn’t she precious, less than one minute old. I never thought through love we’d - ”

Harry’s hand slaps over Louis’ mouth. “Don’t sing to me about babies,” he says tightly. He finally succeeds in getting a hand underneath Louis’ stomach and starts pulling him up.

Louis goes, docile in Harry’s grip. The change in position lets Harry’s hand slip off of his mouth, though, and Louis wouldn’t be Louis if he didn’t continue, “Be making one as lovely as she. But isn’t she lovely made from love.”

Harry stops, arm around Louis’ shoulder forcing him to stop as well. He breathes in deeply a couple of times before spinning Louis around. “You’re twenty years old, I don’t know if it’s healthy for you to want a baby so much already,” Louis says, once his verse has finished.

The look on Harry’s face is nearly painful. “I wanna put a baby in you,” Harry whispers, like he thinks it’s a secret or something, bringing his hands up to cup Louis’ face.

“You wanna do it without a rubber,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “The fact that you want to have a family with like a billion kids is just a convenient excuse to ignore biology.”

The smile is back, threatening to burst again. “Can I kiss you?” Harry asks.

“Oh, sure, let’s make this literally the only time you’ve ever asked,” Louis bitches, but he slips his hands up Harry’s chest and around his neck all the same.

Harry doesn’t waste any time before kissing him. It’s a real, proper kiss, tongue slipping into Louis’ mouth almost straight away.

It’s a little too obscene for mid-afternoon in public, so Louis twists out of Harry’s grasp and takes off again, not slowing down until he reaches the Phi house this time. Even then, it’s only so he can fumble with the door, leaving it wide open behind him as he bolts up the stairs and into Harry’s room.

Harry must be getting faster, though, because Louis doesn’t even have time to get his shirt off before Harry’s shoving him down into the bed face first.

“Gonna give you a baby,” Harry sings, syllables mashing together in a way that’s barely understandable. He rakes Louis’ shirt up his back and presses a kiss against the knob of his spine.

“Not tonight, honey,” Louis says, patting Harry’s hand. “I have a headache.”

“But I just told you that I love you,” Harry murmurs into the back of Louis’ head, fingers already scrabbling to get Louis’ belt undone. “Also, you said that you were gonna stop promising me sex things and then not following through on them.”

“And you believed me?” Louis snorts, shoving his own hand underneath his hips and undoing his jeans. Harry’s such a failure sometimes, honestly.

The weight pinning Louis down to the bed lifts abruptly. Louis turns over and yanks Harry back down before Harry can do whatever it is that he was planning to, pinching at Harry’s skin.

“You’re the worst,” Harry says, grabbing Louis’ hands.

“I’m the best and you love me so much you’ve been stealth dating me for a year,” Louis says.

“And you believed me?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow. He lets go of Louis’ wrists to drag his jeans down, quick and efficient, leaving him in his pants and t-shirt. It’s nowhere near as indecent as they’ve ever been with each other, but Harry’s slow, hot look gets him flushing regardless.

“Well, there must be a reason that I haven’t had any other boys up in me since you started here,” Louis says, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t be anything I’ve done, not with the bum I’ve got.”

Harry makes a considering sound and twirls a finger in the air. “Only one way to find out.”

“You wanna see my bum?”

“Baby, I wanna eat your bum,” Harry says, “Christ, sometimes thinking about it is the only thing that gets me through the day.”

Louis licks his lips and wiggles a little more, getting his shirt even more tangled around his chest, leaving his belly completely bare.

He knows that it’s just the way that Harry likes it.

He turns himself onto his stomach, splaying his arms out, and wiggles his arse a little more. “C’mon. It’s not gonna eat itself.”

“Imagine that,” Harry drawls, but there’s the sound of him moving around, probably getting the lube and a rubber.

He better be getting the lube and a rubber, that is. If he’s not then he really isn’t getting any tonight.

The bed dips at Louis’ side, Harry’s knee coming down on it. He tucks a small bottle of lube and a condom into Louis’ hand, curling his fingers around them. “Hang on to that, yeah?”

“No, Harry, put them on the table,” Louis complains immediately, trying to maneuver himself so he can kick Harry in the side or anywhere, really. It doesn’t really work. “I don’t want to be responsible for holding onto something while I’m getting eaten out, it’s like this is the first time you’ve done this. Honestly.”

“You don’t want to be responsible for losing them, you mean,” Harry mutters, but he takes them out of Louis’ hand and does something with them that he doesn’t see.

“It’s naked time,” Louis tells the pillow happily, wiggling his arse again so Harry will have something nice to look at.

Harry’s thumbs are warm as he eases them underneath the hem of Louis’ boxers and starts peeling them down over his bum, baring flesh an inch at a time. “It is naked time,” he agrees, just before he stops abruptly. “You wanna take off your shirt first?”

Actually, that sounds like a good idea. Louis makes a noise of agreement and lets Harry strip him out of his shirt, tugging it over his head. He presses a kiss to each of Louis’ shoulder-blades once they’re bare, warm and soft.

Louis hums, pleased, and relaxes into the sheets as Harry kisses his way down his spine, wet and heated, leaving the skin tingling in his wake. “What do you think would have happened if you had have told me that we were dating?”

Harry pauses, pressing one final kiss to his back. “I think you probably would have done something really terrible to all my stuff and ignored me for weeks.”

That does sound like something Louis would do.

“Can we go back to that Italian place next week?”

There’s no point dwelling on it. He’s been dated pretty hard by the captain of the lacrosse team for a year and they’ve had some frankly epic sex in that time, and some pretty good dates.

Some pretty lame ones, too - no matter what Zayn says, Wednesdays in the cafeteria do not count.

“You wanna have the pasta again?”

Louis tucks his smile into the pillow. “Almost more than I want to be eaten out.”

Harry’s laugh is downright pleased. Louis honestly doesn’t know how he never noticed that they were dating. Harry treats Louis like he’s his, and he has for ages. “Now I know that’s a lie.”

“I tell the truth and only the truth,” Louis says, squirming a little as Harry kisses his back again, just above the curve of his arse, and then the swell of his cheeks where they’re bared. He tucks his fingers back into Louis’ pants and pulls them down slowly, kissing skin as it’s uncovered. Louis’ cock starts fattening up for real.

It’s an awkward angle, though, so he squirms more, shoving his hand down so he can pull it up between his belly and the mattress. Harry waits patiently, lips resting on Louis’ skin, until he’s properly settled, then continues his path, inching his way down Louis’ body until he’s completely naked.

“Of course you do,” Harry murmurs, trailing his fingers up the crease of Louis’ bum. “Honest boy, you are.”

“That’s right,” Louis says, and that’s all he can manage to get out before Harry’s pulling his cheeks apart and leaning in, swiping his tongue over Louis’ hole - just a tiny little lick at first, much gentler than he usually is.

He has Louis’ fists clenching in the sheets in no time at all, not that it ever takes him long. Warm, wet tongue wriggling all over Louis’ hole, getting him damp and hot, warming up down to his toes.

Harry’s a big, heavy weight between his legs, shoulders prying Louis’ thighs apart like he belongs there, like he’s spent enough time there that he’s carved out a place for himself.

It doesn’t take long for Louis to get more impatient, though.

“God, Harry, c’mon, get - ” he has to stop when Harry licks him hard, tonguing Louis’ rim.

“Inside?” Harry asks, letting his teeth scrape over the edges of Louis’ rim. Louis stifles a sob and nods, even though Harry can’t see that.

He feels - he feels precious, held tight in Harry’s hands, fingers curved around his hips, being eaten out by the boy who decided that Louis’ shit is worth putting up with.

Harry must get it, because he makes a soft noise and flattens his tongue, pushing it past Louis’ rim, inside of his body. Louis’ cock is fully hard, already a little wet at the head, pressing against the sheets. He could definitely get off like this, wiggling around in the sheets of Harry’s bed, scent of Harry’s cologne and sweat caught in his nose, surrounded by Harry.

Harry fucks his tongue in and out, mimicking the rhythm that he normally uses when he’s got his cock in Louis’ arse, and it takes a minute to realize that the high-pitched whimpery noises are coming from him.

“Jesus, the way you sound,” Harry says, the words almost lost in Louis’ skin. “You wanna come, baby?”

It’s a harder decision than it should be. He could come, rather easily, actually, but if he comes Harry will finger him until he’s nearly ready to come again, and he wants Harry’s cock too.

He wants Harry’s cock soon.

Harry takes the decision out of his hands, pulling him apart a little more and nudging a finger up behind his balls as he shoves his tongue back in, nice and sharp, and that’s all it takes to send Louis over the edge, wailing out promises that he’s not willing to repeat.

If Harry knows what’s good for him he won’t try to collect.

It takes Louis a while to come back down from that orgasm, especially because Harry doesn’t actually stop eating him out, slick tongue inside of his hole.

“God,” Harry sighs, taking his tongue out of Louis’ hole but not moving otherwise, breath fluttering over where Louis is slick and open. His weight shifts, pinning Louis down to the bed completely for a couple of seconds before his fingers come nudging back up against Louis’ hole, wet this time.

“Get me,” Louis says, twitching his leg, “Get me, get me - ”

It doesn’t make any sense. Louis knows what he wants, but the words don’t want to come out of his mouth.

Harry gets it anyway, though, flipping Louis over onto his back and crushing their mouths together, licking into Louis’ mouth like he owns it. Louis manages to get his arms up around Harry’s back, noodle-y as they feel, holding onto him like his life depends on it.

The kiss doesn’t break for a long minute, not even when Harry pushes the first finger into him, slow and inescapable.

“Every part of you tastes so good,” Harry murmurs, biting at Louis’ lip.

Louis digs his fingernails into Harry’s back. “Like caramel?”

“Like caramel,” Harry agrees. His smile feels nice against Louis’ mouth, even though it is awkward.

Louis clenches down on Harry’s finger, long and thick inside of him, and it’s really fucking good, of course it is, but two would feel so much better. His cock is already showing the slightest signs of interest again, stirring in the mess of his own come.

“Gimme ‘nother,” he says, trying to connect their mouths again. He misses, but Harry fixes it, taking Louis’ bottom lip between his teeth and sucking it into his mouth. The second finger feels just as good as the first one, stretching him open so he’ll have room for Harry’s cock inside of him.

“Made for my cock, weren’t you, baby?” Harry asks, tugging Louis’ thigh up over his hip. “Made for me to put my cock in you whenever you want. Get you all knocked up.”

Imagine. “How many babies would you put in me?” Louis asks, tangling his fingers in Harry’s necklace.

Harry groans, spearing his fingers right up against Louis’ prostate. Louis makes a weird noise right back. “There’d be a baby in you all the time,” Harry whispers, biting at the corner of Louis’ mouth. “Never let you be empty.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, stroking his fingers along the underside of Harry’s jaw, not letting go of the necklace. “Have a house full of toddlers running around.”

“Stop,” Harry demands, fucking his fingers in Louis’ hole faster. “Don’t talk to me about having babies until you’re ready to have babies.”

Louis hums, letting his eyes fall closed while Harry falls back to a normal rhythm, finger-fucking him smoothly. He can’t ignore the butterflies in his belly at the thought of being together long enough to have a family.

“Just one more thing,” he says quietly, resisting the urge to open his eyes and look at Harry’s face, the way he would inevitably be looking at Louis. “A baby requires a lifelong commitment.”

There’s a third finger nudging at Louis’ rim, but it doesn’t push inside. Harry’s fingers slow noticeably, enough that Louis cracks one eye open a tiny bit.

Harry’s watching him, eyes intent on Louis’ face. “Especially one that’s going to be as mischievious as anyone that’s related to you is bound to be.”

Louis closes his eye again. “Harry.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Harry says solemnly, spreading his fingers. “In a few years, I’m probably going to propose to you - ring and everything, and then we’re going to have just-got-engaged sex, and then we’re going to get married, and then we’re going to have just-got-married sex, and then - ”

This seems like it could go on for a while, and Louis really isn’t that patient. He pulls Harry back down with the grip that he has on the necklace and kisses him, sucking Harry’s tongue into his mouth. He squirms a little, grinding up against Harry’s body, and it hurts as much as it feels good because Harry hasn’t taken off his clothes yet, rough denim of his jeans scratching.

“A simple ‘I’m going to love you for the rest of my life’ would have sufficed,” Louis grumbles. “Three, please.”

Harry pushes a third finger past Louis’ rim, sinking easily into his body. His cock is fully hard, head a deep shade of pink. “I’m going to love you for the rest of my life,” Harry repeats, pressing his fingers into Louis’ prostate. “And I’m going to fuck you so well you’ll never wonder why you decided to give in to me.”

Finally,” Louis says, digging his fingernails into the back of Harry’s neck just to hear the noise he makes.

He pulls his fingers out and pulls up onto his knees, leaving Louis empty and cold, and strips himself of his clothes quickly, not even bothering to give Louis a show before he fishes for the rubber. “You want it on your belly?” he asks while he rolling the condom down and lubing himself up.

Louis shakes his head, trying to pull him back down. “Want it like this.”

“Like it when I can see your face when I’m fucking you, baby,” Harry says approvingly, bending Louis’ leg up so he can start pushing in, giving Louis his cock inch by inch.

Louis grips his shoulders tight, nails leaving little crescent marks, unwilling to let go. Harry kisses him again when he’s halfway in, slowing down. “Baby,” Harry murmurs, fitting one hand beneath Louis’ back. “You want me to stop?”

He brushes his thumb underneath Louis’ eye, holding him close with the other arm. Louis shakes his head, curling his fingers in his hair. “Want the necklace.”

Harry’s cock feels big, and it doesn’t hurt, exactly - if it was ever going to hurt it would have been that first time, when it had felt all but impossible, trying to get that cock inside of him. All of Louis’ emotions are right underneath the surface, though, and that’s why he feels so shaky right now. It must be, anyway.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry says, and Louis tries to get it undone, but he can’t quite get his fingers to work. He huffs out a frustrated breath, letting his arms flop down to the mattress, and pouts until Harry does it for him, slipping his hands out from underneath Louis’ back to undo the clasp behind his own neck and put it on Louis, fingers smoothing over every inch of skin that he can reach.

“Looks good on you,” he says, brushing his thumb over the edge of Louis’ jaw. “Like it when you’re all flushed and smooth and wearing my jewellery.”

He finishes pushing in, putting his hand back underneath Louis’ back. It doesn’t give him much room to work with, but he’ll make it work. He always does.

It feels fitting that this is how their first time as a real couple is going to go, anyway, breathing the same air, slick with each other’s sweat, close enough that they can feel every stutter of each other’s heart.

It’s different, but it’s not.

When he’s all the way in, Harry pauses again, eyes searching Louis’ face. “Yeah?”

He’s asking if this is good for Louis, if this is a position that’ll make him feel good, one that’ll get him off. This is Louis’ big dumb jock boyfriend.

“Baby,” Louis says, tugging Harry’s ear close to his mouth and ignoring how weird the word tastes in his mouth, “Nothing even comes close to making me feel as good as your cock does.”

Harry’s shoulders shudder against him. Louis clutches him closer, winds his legs around him properly, and squeezes down on his cock just to feel that shudder again, vibrating through his chest.

Harry starts moving, tiny little dragging thrusts that send sparks flying up Louis’ spine. It’s nearly overwhelming right from the first thrust, and that’s before he even starts hitting Louis’ prostate.

Then it gets amazing. “Stop saying that shit to me unless you mean it,” Harry says, eyebrows furrowed like he has to concentrate on fucking Louis’ arse.

Louis has countless examples of how he really, really doesn’t. Harry could find Louis’ prostate blindfolded and with his arms tied behind his back. Maybe Louis should make him prove that theory.

Not now, though.

“You accusing me of buttering you up to get you to fuck me better?” Louis asks. He can barely concentrate on the conversation, too focused on the way Harry’s cock feels, filling him up.

“Just be quiet and let me say nice things to you,” Harry orders, thrusting a little deeper.

Louis bites back a whimpery noise and holds onto Harry’s shoulders tighter, unwilling to let him go enough for him to start thrusting properly. “Tell me, then.”

“You’re pretty,” Harry says obediently, “and delicate, and you do the most amazing things for me even though you don’t want to admit it, and - ”

“The shaving thing is not for you,” Louis hisses, even though it kind of is, at least a little bit. If Harry hadn’t have reacted the way he did to it Louis probably wouldn’t still be doing it, and that’s mostly because some people find it weird - fuck you very much, Liam. It’s too much effort to figure out who’d be into it and who wouldn’t. It’s so much easier to just know that Harry is into it.

“It might not be only for me,” Harry says, rocking his hips a little faster, so the head of his cock is brushing against Louis’ prostate for long enough that tears nearly start welling up in Louis’ eyes.

God. Who would have thought that Louis would end up with a person who’s kinks align so well with his own. “Liam says that it’s weird how we’re so sexually compatible.”

Harry stops moving so abruptly that Louis almost doesn’t feel it. “I fucking hate it when you bring Liam up when we’re having sex.”

Sometimes, Louis can’t stop his face from broadcasting what he’s thinking. He’s pretty sure that it’s saying why do you think I keep doing it right now. Harry groans, like he’s pained, and fists one hand in the necklace, pulling Louis that much closer to him. “You’re so lucky that I love you.”

Every inch of Louis’ body feels warm. He licks his lips and considers his options, staring at the line of Harry’s jaw. He’s wrapped up safe and tight in Harry’s arms, and he’s pretty sure that Harry doesn’t want to let him go any time soon.

He’s also pretty sure that Harry won’t go back to fucking him until he says it back, so that really only leaves him one option. “I love you too.”

“I always knew that the first time you said those words to me would be when I was balls deep in your arse,” Harry says, smiling against’ Louis’ mouth.

“You did not,” Louis protests, letting Harry kiss him as much as he wants, mumbling out the words. “You didn’t even know that I could tolerate you. You were probably waiting for the day that I snapped and murdered you.”

Harry starts moving again, with those same tiny little rocking motions that have Louis’ thighs trying to spread further and give him more space. “Yeah, because it was so hard to figure out that you had feelings for me when you were stealing all my shit so I’d be forced to sleep in your bed with you.”

“That’s not why I stole your stuff,” Louis denies weakly, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“Mm,” Harry murmurs, biting Louis’ bottom lip gently. “So it wasn’t because you wanted to get spooned to sleep and I was the only person you wanted to do it?”

Louis squirms, trying to get Harry’s cock back into that place that makes him shiver and moan and want to beg for it. “Your cock feels good,” he says, trying to distract Harry enough that he’ll get back to fucking him.

“So you’ve said,” Harry answers, rocking in even slower and staying there for a few long seconds, so all Louis can feel is every inch and fucked he is. “Your arse feels good.”

At least half the reason that they’ve made it this is far is due to Harry’s willingness to let Louis distract him from the point. Probably there’s no one else in the world who would put up with Louis as well as Harry does. “Yeah?”

“Best I’ve ever felt,” Harry confirms, pulling out a couple of inches just as slowly as he’d pushed in. “Best arse in the world. Always wanna get my mouth on it.”

Harry’s clearly waiting for something. He must want to come as much as Louis does - more, probably, because Louis has already gotten off once - but he won’t fuck Louis properly.

“Let you put your mouth on it whenever you want,” Louis says, tightening every muscle as much as he possibly can, so all Harry will be able to think is tight and warm and small.

“I remember when I ate you out the first time,” Harry says wistfully, look on his face like he’s about to go into a tirade.

Distracting him isn’t working the way Louis wanted it to, and he’s been trying to force the words Harry wants to hear back for at least five minutes, so he might as well just give in and say the thing that’ll make Harry fuck him so good that all he’ll manage to do is whimper and come.

Dragging Harry’s mouth towards his again is harder than it should be, but Louis manages. “You remember that time that you fucked me so good that I came all over myself without being touched?”

“That time is every other time,” Harry whispers, sliding one arm underneath Louis’ back again.

Louis swallows and lets himself stop ignoring exactly how fucking good Harry’s cock feels inside of him, big and hard and the perfect size for Louis to be a little sore in the morning. “I want you to make me come like that.”

The kiss that comes is a direct result of those words. “You want me to take care of you?” Harry asks, using the hand he has gripping Louis’ bum to pull him farther apart, really drawing all of his attention to Harry’s cock inside of him.

“Please,” Louis says, letting the words slip past his teeth, “please, make me come, wanna come. If you really love me you’ll make me come.”

Then, because he knows Harry and the only thing Harry responds better to than a challenge is Louis getting shaky and sensitive and not knowing how to ask for what he wants - “Unless you don’t think you can.”

“Gonna take care of you,” Harry says, more of a snarl than anything, and picks up his pace again - finally, Louis thinks, before he’s too busy getting fucked across the bed, hanging onto Harry’s shoulders and back and trying not to let go, even though his fingers are trembling from how good he feels, from how good Harry feels.

Louis is making tiny, lost little whimpery noises. He can hear them, but he can’t be bothered to care about them, not with the way they only make Harry fuck him harder, shoving his cock all the way into Louis’ arse nice and deep, thick and hot. Sparks are practically zinging up his spine from the way it feels, orgasm building in his belly until he almost can’t take it.

“’Course I really love you,” Harry says, fitting their mouths together sloppily, just for a second so he can bite at Louis’ lip. “Never been a time I didn’t give you what you want, is there? Always gonna take care of you, baby.”

Louis comes, cock pulsing between their bellies, smearing it everywhere. Harry doesn’t stop fucking him, too busy chasing his own orgasm, and that feels. That starts feeling sore after Louis has finished coming, nearly as sore as the rest of his body. He feels weak and dazed, unable to do anything more than squeeze down on Harry’s cock softly and let Harry lick at his mouth until he comes, grinding in deep in Louis’ arse.

Harry makes choked, desperate noises as he comes, syllables that sound vaguely like Louis’ name, and shoves his entire face into Louis’ throat, hips still working. Louis pets his hair the best that he can, gentling him, and they lose a few minutes like that, both of them still coming down from their highs.

The only way he can tell that Harry’s gone from being sex-stupid to just regular stupid is by the way he starts dragging his teeth across Louis’ neck, not even trying to give him a love bite. His cock is still deep in Louis’ arse, and he’s not making any moves like he’s about to pull out any time soon.

If Louis let him he’d probably stay in there until he got hard again.

“Okay, out,” Louis says, pulling sharply on a handful of hair.

Harry takes his sweet time pulling out, biting idly at Louis’ shoulder. “I think that might have been the best sex that we’ve ever had.”

They’ve had so much sex that deciding which time was the best is next to impossible. They don’t have bad sex, which might be part of the problem.

“Liam says that when we have sex you sound like I’m the only thing that matters to you,” Louis says, tracing shapes over Harry’s back. His fingers slip through the sweat that Harry’s worked up, and it should feel at least a little disgusting.

It doesn’t. “Liam’s a lot more perceptive than you give him credit for,” Harry says. “Should I even bother asking how that came up or do I not want to know?” He pulls out, slow enough that Louis only winces a little.

He’s still warm and heavy on top of Louis, and Louis’ thighs are going to feel it in the morning, but he lets Harry stay there. Cuddling after sex is nice.

“You know that time I was staying with Liam and Zayn and I told you that they weren’t home?”

Harry’s quiet for a minute. “You mean the time that I believed you when you said that Liam and Zayn weren’t home and I made you scream so loud that the neighbours nearly called the cops?”

“Well you really should have thought that one through, shouldn’t you have?” Louis demands. “God, no one told you to fuck me like that, anyway.”

“You kept telling me to fuck you like that,” Harry says, but he’s smiling. “You pinched me so hard I had bruises for a week after every time I slowed down.”

That’s pretty much exactly how it happened. There’s no reason to feed Harry’s ego by admitting that out loud, though.

“Anyway, he said something about how when we talk during sex we sound really into each other,” Louis continues.

“We do sound like we’re really into each other,” Harry agrees, kissing the side of Louis’ neck. Louis tilts his head to give him better access. “Or did you miss that entire conversation about how you have the best arse on the planet?”

“I do have the best arse on the planet,” Louis says haughtily, jabbing his toes into Harry’s calves. His skin feels smooth against Harry’s, rougher and hairier, and maybe that shouldn’t be a turn-on.

It really fucking is, though.

“You really fucking do,” Harry agrees, grabbing a handful of Louis’ bum so abruptly that the sound that escapes Louis can only be described as a squeak. “You’re gonna let me fuck you bare one day, right?”

Louis would let Harry fuck him bare right now if it wasn’t for pesky things like tests and results and making sure that they’re clean. “So you can put a baby in me without even putting a ring on it? What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“The kind of girl who doesn’t realize she’s being dated for nearly a year,” Harry says, dragging his fingers down the crease of Louis’ bum like that’s going to make him want to fuck again.

It kind of does. He feels sore and hot and tired, but his cock is taking the tiniest little bit of interest anyway.

“Well, in my defense, you could have made it more obvious,” Louis says. Exhaustion is winning out. The desire to keep his eyes open is slowly fading. He’ll have to get Harry off of him before he actually goes to sleep, though, because if he doesn’t who knows what he’ll wake up to. He wouldn’t put it past Harry to try to get his cock back inside Louis’ arse without waking him up.

“More obvious than taking you out to quiet, romantic dinners and then taking you home to fuck you after?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re right, I should have rented a plane to spell it out in the sky.”

“Now you’re talking,” Louis agrees. “Do you think me grandmum’s gonna be angry once she realizes that I’ve stolen her man?”

There’s a few seconds of silence. It’s a confused silence, like Harry’s trying to figure out exactly what’s going on right now.

Big dumb jock.

“I fucking hate you,” Harry groans, rolling off of Louis and onto the tiny sliver of space left on the bed. He looks nearly the exact same as he did after the first time they had sex, hair a little longer, face a little happier, but so very much like that boy that Louis almost can’t believe that they’re here a year later, in the exact same position.

This is Louis’ big dumb jock boyfriend. This has been Louis’ big dumb jock boyfriend for a year, and maybe that calls for Louis being a little bit nicer.

“You love me,” he says, punching Harry’s side, because a little bit nicer doesn’t mean a lot nicer.

“No I don’t,” Harry says, spreading his arms out farther. “I hate you. There’s no one in the world I hate more than you.”

Louis rolls onto his side. He nearly gets tangled in the necklace, still looped around his throat, and puts his mouth right up against Harry’s ear. “I love you.”

Harry’s throat works as he swallows, fingertips brushing against Louis’ arm as if he’s fighting the urge not to just wrap his fingers around Louis’ wrist and hold him down, fuck him again, over and over until they’re both too sore to move.

God. If he had have realized what affect three simple little words would have on Harry he would have been saying them all the time.

“I love you,” Louis repeats, getting an elbow underneath himself so he can lean over Harry and really get into his head, “I love you, I love you, I lo - ”

Harry flips them so fast Louis doesn’t even see him move, biting his way into Louis’ mouth, opening him up slick and easy, the same way he’d be able to open up Louis’ arse right now.

“Never gonna get tired of hearing you say those words,” Harry mumbles, even as he fumbles for a condom and gets it onto his cock, one-handed and easy. It’s a move Louis has seen him pull a thousand times.

“I love you,” Louis says, pulling Harry’s mouth back to his.

“I love you too,” Harry says, pushing back in with one smooth stroke, no fingering needed. “Even when you’re all prickly and complaining. Especially then, probably.”

The words hit Louis deep in the gut. He closes his eyes and coaxes Harry into kissing him again, wet and open, and lies back, content to get fucked nice and slow by the guy who’s probably the love of his life.

He’s had worse days.







The first time they had sex - the very first time, not the time that Louis claims is the first time and Harry lets him get away with because he knows what has to do in order to continue getting laid on a regular basis - they had both been a little tipsy, Louis had been shaved completely smooth because he’d lost that bet with Niall, and it had seemed like a good idea.

It had gone like this:


Louis took an instant liking to Niall. Cute, blonde little Irish Niall, who looked innocent but was secretly the devil in disguise, and that’s the only reason he’s even here right now. He has nothing against frats, per se, but they’re not typically his scene, despite what his buddies on the footie team try to convince him of.

He knows a lot of the people milling around, and he’s in the center of the crowd, trying to bully Liam into doing a keg stand by the time his eyes pass over Harry Styles.

Harry Styles. What kind of name is that, Louis wonders, drifting in his direction without really realizing it. Sounds like he should be a hairstylist. Maybe that’s in the works for Harry Styles, becoming a hair stylist. Louis should find out.

Harry Styles has some bird boxed up against the wall, totally pulling the dumb jock and cheerleader shtick that all the films like to use with where he leans over here with an arm above her head.

Louis is the king of pranks on this campus, and that fact is already well known. He doesn’t have to keep proving it, especially not at Harry Styles’ benefit.

There’s really no excuse for the way he walks right up to them, shoving his fingers into Harry Styles’ surprisingly firm side to get his attention.

And Harry Styles’ attention he does get.

“Can I help you?” Harry asks, dropping his hand from the wall and turning his entire body towards Louis.

He really should have realized that would only spur Louis on. “Are you kidding me?”

Harry’s got the most perplexed expression on his face. He looks lost. Louis wants to smack him right in his dimples. He doesn’t, because that would be rude, but he wants to.

“What?” Harry asks, and that’s all the opening Louis needs. He flings his arms wide and takes a step away, relishing in the way he’s immediately got the attention of half the room.

“I can’t believe that you would do this to me. We’re over.” Louis lets his arms drop back down to his sides and turns away, content with the mess he’s made of Harry Styles’ potential hookup.

He spots Zayn watching from a corner and makes to go over to him and pretend to cry into his shoulder, but something grabs his wrist, nice and firm, and doesn’t let go.

With one sharp tug, he’s facing Harry Styles again. “It’s not what it looks like,” Harry says earnestly, trying to pull Louis into his body.

Louis blinks. “Um,” he says. It’s all he can think of to say. Harry Styles is - playing along?

“She’s my chem lab partner, baby,” Harry continues, and he’s both bigger and stronger than Louis, and somehow he’s got both of Louis’ wrists in his grasp.

For a second, Louis thinks that Harry is saying that the girl’s name is Baby. Then, when it clicks that Harry Styles is calling him baby he rips his wrists right out of Harry Styles’ grip and makes his way to the kitchen, nearly knocking five bottles of liquor off the counter with the way his hands are shaking.

In fury, obviously.

He pours a couple of fingers of straight rum into a plastic cup and is about to down the entire thing in one gulp when there’s the unmistakable press of big, warm boy against his back.

All over him.

“What are you doing,” Louis demands tightly, clutching his cup a little tighter. The kid has made no secret of his attraction to Louis, but he’s taken no for an answer so far and only really bothers Louis when he gets drunk, and even then it’s only to ask him one time to go for coffee, like that’s something that Louis would even consider.

Coffee. Honestly.

“I’m explaining, baby,” Harry Styles says, low and right in his ear, slipping his arms around Louis and then trailing down his belly, resting low.

He’s still fucking playing along. Well. Louis has never been beaten at his own game, and he doesn’t intend to start now.

“So explain to me,” Louis says, watching the rum swirl around in his cup, “why exactly you were two inches away from that girl like you were going to fuck her.”

There’s at least fifteen people milling about in the kitchen, and every single one of them is more focused on this conversation playing out in front of them than they’ve probably been on their studies all semester.

Louis makes for some good gossip.

“She’s just my lab partner,” Harry says, nudging his mouth into Louis’ ear, taking liberties that he hasn’t even asked for, much less been granted. “You know you’re the only person I’ve been giving it to.”

What the hell. Who would have guessed that Harry Styles’ dirty talk is so lame.

“So why are you so hard right now?” Louis presses back, right up against Harry’s crotch, because he is hard right now, and it’s nearly impossible to ignore.

“Have you seen this bum?” Harry asks, rocking his hips forward gently. “Not to mention your face, and your arms, and your tattoos, and your ankles - ”

Louis makes the mistake of laughing. He knows it’s a mistake right away, from the way he can feel Harry smiling into his hair, cutting himself off.

“My ankles?” Louis repeats, slightly incredulous.

Harry hums into his hair and starts pulling him away from the counter. Louis makes a last minute grab for his drink and swigs it before letting the empty cup clatter onto the floor, putting up only the token amount of resistance to being moved.

“I’ll show you,” Harry promises, and clearly Louis should have been paying more attention to where they were going because he trips over the stairs and nearly breaks his nose.

Harry catches him at the last minute, pulling him back up and steadying him before he’ll give Louis enough space to start climbing the stairs.

So Louis is currently shaved smooth all over, a little tipsy, a lot homesick, and climbing the stairs to what must be Harry Styles’ bedroom.

It’s not too late to back out of this. Harry has done nothing but prove, over and over, that while he’s persistent he’ll take even the slightest hint of a no for an answer.

Louis really wants to see if Harry Styles’ cock is as big as it looks in his lacrosse uniform, though, so he keeps putting one foot in front of the other and waits outside the third door on the left when Harry pulls him to a stop.

Once Harry’s managed to get the door unlocked - which takes a while, maybe because Louis thinks it’ll help if he hangs off of Harry’s back and tries to grope at his cock, maybe get a sneak peek - Louis pushes past him and wanders inside, sticking his hands into his pockets and surveying the room.

It’s very plain, Harry Styles’ room, dark blue duvet all mussed up on the bed, a bulletin board with photos tacked on to it, clothes strewn on the floor - not nearly as many as there is on Louis’ though - textbooks scattered all over the place. A desk, a laptop, a table beside the bed.

He probably still hides porn in a box underneath his bed. He seems like that kind of kid.

The excitement has mostly faded. Louis turns around to tell Harry Styles that, only to quite literally get swept off his feet.

Harry Styles picks him up.

Harry Styles literally picks him up and tosses him on the bed, like Louis weighs nothing.

What the fuck.

“You still want me to show you about your ankles?” Harry asks. “Baby.”

This is so ridiculous. What the fuck has Louis gotten himself into.

“Yeah, big boy,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Come and show me what - ”

He’s cut off by Harry’s weight suddenly pinning him down to the bed, mouth finding Louis’ so easily he must have had someone Louis’ size in his bed a thousand times before.

The kiss is - the kiss is scorching. Louis has never been kissed like this before, by someone who’s guessed exactly what he likes on the first try, and that.

Louis isn’t obvious about his preferences, alright. He’s not. He’s not exactly a big person, but he makes up for it by being loud and right in the thick of things, and sometimes that gives people a certain impression about what he’s like in bed, and he doesn’t mind showing guys what he likes.

Harry’s hitting the nail on the head without even having to be told.

Having Harry’s hands immediately slip behind his neck and underneath his jaw shouldn’t turn him on so much. It’s just a place that people touch when they kiss, and the way Harry immediately licks past the seam of his lips, coaxing his mouth open with barely any effort, that’s normal too.

It’s wet and electric, and Harry takes control of it right away, sucking Louis’ tongue into his mouth. He has Louis whimpering in no time, spreading his thighs because he wants Harry to get between them, to get on top of him properly, to get in him.

Harry doesn’t. He leans back in a way that’s really douche-y, no matter what Louis’ cock thinks, and trails his fingers down the inside of Louis’ thigh, along his calf, until it’s hovering just above his ankle.

“You have such delicate ankles for a footie player,” Harry says, wiggling his fingers underneath the edge of Louis’ jeans and tugging them up as far as he can manage.

“I’m not delicate,” Louis says, holding still while Harry traces over the veins in his skin, fingers warm and calloused. Thick.

They’d probably feel really fucking good inside of Louis.

“Not even a little,” Harry agrees, and then lifts Louis’ leg to his lips, skimming across his ankle bone, leaving the tiniest, softest, wettest little patch of skin.

Louis’ cock throbs.

He’s not even really doing anything - there’s only the barest hint of his mouth on Louis’ skin, but Louis is still so turned on he’s having trouble breathing without gasping.

Harry spends what feels like an eternity ghosting his mouth over Louis’ ankle, never straying more than four inches away. He seems content to stay down there, fingers of one hand tucked into the back of Louis’ knee and the other resting on top of Louis’ other leg, but Louis has other ideas.

So many other ideas.

“I get it,” Louis says, turning his leg in Harry’s grip. His jeans end up twisted awkwardly around his calf. “C’mon, get up here.”

“Do you get it?” Harry asks, pressing his teeth into Louis’ ankle bone gently. “How pretty you are.”

Oh jesus. This might be the lamest dirty talk Louis has ever heard, and he’s spent his fair share of time watching really bad porn.

He tells his cock to shut up one more time.

“I’m the prettiest boy in all the land,” Louis says, putting his hand in Harry’s hair so he can tug a little, try to convince him that way.

Harry gets up onto his knees and lets Louis pull him over his body, holding himself up on his elbows. “You taste like caramel, did you know that?”

What the hell. “How drunk are you?”

“I’ve had three pints,” Harry answers, nudging up underneath Louis’ jaw so he can bite him, sending a jolt straight through Louis’ body to his cock. “Mm. You taste like caramel here, too.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Louis mutters, even as Harry’s kissing his way down his throat, probably trying to get back to his ankles or something.

Who knows how long it’ll take to get on with it if that happens. Louis slaps at Harry’s shoulders until he lifts up enough, confused face back on, for Louis to wiggle out from underneath him.

“Stay there,” Louis orders, pointing a finger to where Harry’s sprawled across the bed, taking up most of the space.

Harry holds up his hands and stays. Louis eyes him for a minute before he nods to himself and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

He’s not even putting the slightest bit of effort into making it sexy, but he hears Harry’s breathing quicken anyway.

Is this kid a virgin?

“Ooh, baby, lookin’ good,” Harry says, folding his arms underneath his head and wiggling his eyebrows.

The virgin theory is holding up.

He strips himself out of the rest of his clothes without thinking about the obvious. It’s not until he’s standing in the middle of the room, completely naked, with Harry gone dead silent, that he realizes.

And of course, he immediately goes on the offensive. “What? You got a problem, Styles? Where I come from, we don’t judge people just for - ” Harry’s getting up “ - a little bit of manscaping, and - ”

Harry’s in front of him, and his heart is in his throat. “Can I,” Harry mumbles vaguely, already reaching out and smoothing a hand down Louis’ chest.

Louis goes quiet, staring down at Harry’s hand. The only noise in the room is the shaky sound of their combined breathing as they both watch the path that Harry’s hand takes, trailing down Louis’ chest to his belly, leaving behind a trail of flushed skin.

“I’m gonna,” Harry says nonsensically, dropping to his knees. He immediately puts his mouth on Louis’ belly, closed at first. It starts off with just kisses, dotted all over Louis’ skin, and that’s enough to have Louis’ knees trembling.

Then he opens his mouth, slicking his tongue over Louis’ skin.

Louis’ hands fly into his hair, gripping him tight. “What - what are you doing?”

“Shh, baby, just wanna have a little taste,” Harry murmurs, sinking his teeth in a little. Louis gasps, head tipping back, eyes fluttering closed. He can barely stay still while Harry kisses him and licks him and bites him, leaving his mark all over Louis’ skin.

He doesn’t know how long Harry stays there for, obsessed with the feeling of Louis’ skin, but he’s about five seconds away from coming in his jeans by the time Harry eases him out of them, sliding them down Louis’ hips and thighs and coaxing them off of his feet.

“Are you smooth all over?” Harry asks, pushing his thumbs into the waistband of Louis’ pants.

Louis can barely breathe as he says, “Only one way to find out.”

Harry pushes his boxers down so slowly that Louis’ breathing has gotten choppy again, just from being able to feel Harry’s eyes on him. He doesn’t even have to look at how Harry’s looking at him for the squirming in his belly to start again.

“You are,” Harry says brokenly, once he’s gotten Louis’ pants and jeans tangled mid-thigh, baring enough of him that he’s essentially naked. Harry’s breath is warm and laboured against his skin.

There’s really only one way to describe what’s going on right now, and it’s so fucking weird. It has Louis’ knees shaking anyway.

Nuzzling. There’s no way around the fact that Harry Styles is on his knees in front of Louis, nuzzling into Louis’ bare skin, close enough to his cock that the air feels ten degrees warmer.

Please, Louis thinks, pleasepleasepleaseplease -

“Yeah, baby, I know,” Harry murmurs, scraping his teeth across Louis’ belly, and.

Louis hadn’t even realized that he was saying it out loud.

“Gonna go get on the bed for me like a good boy?” Harry asks, and somewhere in the past ten minutes his dirty talk has gone from underwhelming and lame to the hottest fucking thing Louis could imagine.

Somewhere in the past ten minutes Harry’s also stopped using the word baby mockingly.

Maybe not a virgin, then.

Louis nearly trips over his own pants in his struggle to get out of them and get himself onto the bed. The niggling thought in the back of his head that he’s a little too desperate to do as Harry tells him is easy to push aside in favour of the knowledge that he’s going to get fucked.

It’s been too long since he’s had a half-decent lay, and this is shaping up to be something that’s a little bit more than half-decent.

He doesn’t exactly mean to land face first on the bed, but once it’s happened it seems like as good a position to shake his bum in as any, so that’s what he does, pushing up off the mattress enough that it has to look good.

“Christ, the bum on you,” Harry mutters, in a tone that suggests that it wasn’t necessarily meant for Louis to hear. “I’m gonna.”

He stops abruptly, leaving Louis waiting for the rest of that sentence. There’s silence in the room for a minute, then the sound of shuffling, like Harry’s dragging his feet across the carpet.

The feeling of his hands landing on Louis’ arse comes as a shock, even though it probably really shouldn’t. “You’re gonna?” Louis questions, trying to flick his hair out of his eyes. He had a beanie on earlier, he’s pretty sure. He wonders what happened to it.

“I’m gonna find out whether you’re smooth here, too,” Harry answers, tapping a couple fingers against Louis’ bum.

It takes Louis a minute to understand. Obviously he’s bare there - Harry’s got two handfuls of arse, he can obviously feel that he’s smooth.

Then Harry starts spreading him apart and oh. Oh.

“You like being smooth like this for boys to find?” Harry asks. The warmth of his breath is much closer than Louis was expecting. His stomach muscles clench, throbbing in his dick nearly forgotten.

He doesn’t give Louis a chance to answer, because - because he’s licking him, warm wet tongue over Louis’ hole, absolutely no hesitation whatsoever.

Louis breathes in a shuddery gasp and lets it out so fast it sounds like he’s panting. There was a question, he thinks, but he can’t remember what it was, not with the way Harry’s mouth feels on him.

The second lick comes just as quickly as the first, even firmer and just as sure, and all Louis can do to squeeze his eyes closed and bite down on his own hand and come.

Just like that.

It either helps or it doesn’t help that Harry licks him through it, tonguing Louis’ arse like he already owns it.

His hand is wet with his own spit by the time Harry stops, body all but glued to the sheets. “You came,” Harry says. He sounds as dazed as Louis feels, dragging his fingertips over the skin of Louis’ inner thigh lightly like he can’t stop touching. “Got off so easy. Didn’t even have to try.”

Louis flushes. He’s pretty sure that Harry doesn’t see it, too focused on whatever he’s doing down there, but he feels the need to distract him from it anyway. “You wanna get off?”

It’s not even that Louis didn’t have to try, really. It’s just that no one does what Harry just did - ate him out without even a second thought, the first time they hooked up, without even asking.

“Yeah,” Harry says, voice gravelly. Louis can hear just how much he wants to get off in the sound of his voice, and that’s - that’s really fucking nice. His own cock takes the smallest, tiniest little hint of interest.

Harry’s gearing up to say something, and it’s probably about how he can jerk himself off on Louis’ bum or something, because that seems like something he would do, so Louis cuts him off. “You got any rubbers in here?”

There’s a small amount of satisfaction in hearing the way Harry’s breath rushes out of him. Louis squeezes his thighs together, relishing in the way Harry’s fingers get trapped in between them.

“Gonna put my cock in Louis Tomlinson’s arse,” Harry says, nudging his fingers back up into the crease of Louis’ bum. He takes his other hand off of Louis’ skin, and not even the way he rubs his fingers over Louis’ hole distracts from it, from the warmth missing that should be there.

Louis means to say something about how that’s only gonna happen if he gets on with it, but Harry chooses that exact moment to lick him again.

If the very first lick was unexpected, Louis is completely unprepared for the second time, for how Harry’s tongue feels on his hole after he’s just come, like he’s trying to coax him into another orgasm.

Louis could probably be coaxed.

Harry’s finger snubbing up against his rim feels as good as it does terrifying, the thought that Harry’s going to finger him open so Louis can take his cock. There’s no stopping this now, though, not with how bad Louis wants it, how loudly he would beg for it - might be begging for it, actually, because he can’t actually tell what’s coming out of his mouth when Harry’s tongue slips past his rim and into his hole.

If he hadn’t come less than five minutes ago he’d be coming right now.

“Fingers,” Louis says wildly, nails catching on the sheets, “fingers, please, Harry, fingers - ”

Harry makes a sound that might be a shhh if pressed, index finger sliding into Louis easily, slick with lube. He doesn’t remove his tongue, even as he finger slides right up against Louis’ prostate, sending him thrashing on the bed, trying to force himself back down onto it.

Harry’s quick to give him a second finger, and then a third one, stretching him out fast and easy, and it won’t be until Harry mentions it, offhand, a few months later, that it had been that quick because Louis was begging him to.

He slows down on the third finger, rubbing firmly over Louis’ prostate and shoving his tongue in as deep as it’ll go, until Louis can’t stand it any more. “Harry. Harry, please.”

His eyes feel a little wet, eyelashes sticking together. His voice sounds higher pitched than normal, needy and desperate, but he can’t even bring himself to care about that when it has Harry pulling his fingers out and urging Louis over onto his back with gentle hands, and -


And this is the part that Louis always gets a little embarrassed about, whenever he thinks about it or Harry brings it up, but as much as he denies it, there’s really no way around it.

Louis had cried.


- and by the time Harry fit their mouths together Louis’ cheeks are wet, and his fingers are trembling, and he wants it so bad he feels like he might fall apart if he doesn’t get it.

It’s. Louis can’t stop it, is the thing, no matter how hard he tries, but all Harry does is gather as much of Louis up into his arms as he possibly can and kiss him again and again, ignoring the way their cocks are pressed together, hard and dripping, over and over, barely even letting their mouths part long enough to get a condom on, so hungry for Louis’ mouth.

“Tell me I can fuck you, baby,” Harry says, right into Louis’ mouth, just as desperate for it as Louis is.

“Fuck me,” Louis says, trying to get his hands to stay locked around Harry’s neck. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me - ”

His ability to draw in enough breath to form words gets punched out of him on the first thrust, filling him up with inch after inch of cock, big enough that it feels like it’s never going to end.

Harry’s back to kissing him, just as intently, soothing the ache with his mouth on Louis’. It takes a few minutes to be able to remember how to breathe, long enough that Louis might be tricked into thinking that this is his own first time, if he didn’t remember Steve and how much that had sucked.

“Baby,” Harry’s saying, trying to get Louis’ attention, even though he seems reluctant to pry their mouths apart. “Baby, can I go? Tell me when I can go.”

His cock is so big, lodged into Louis’ arse like it’s never coming out, but there’s already frissons of pleasure shooting up his spine that can only get better. “Go.”

There’s not really enough room for Harry’s thrusts to get fast and long, the way Louis normally likes it, not with the way Harry keeps falling on his mouth, but it’s so good that it doesn’t even matter.

“Are you going to come?” Harry asks desperately, hauling Louis’ legs up around his hips. “Wanna see you come, Louis, gonna come on my cock, right?”

Louis licks his lips, catching the swell of Harry’s bottom lip, and manages to wiggle a hand in between them to wrap around his cock. It won’t take much, not when he’s already so close, not when he’s got the biggest cock he’s ever had fucking him just right.

He wants to say something, but the only words floating around in his brain are echoes of Harry’s, echoes of gonna come on my cock, of delicate and pretty and baby.

Harry shushes him again, petting his fingers over Louis’ hips, and says, “Look so pretty falling apart on my cock, never seen anyone take it as good as you.”

It’s not right. There’s something not right, even as Louis tightens his fist and pulls himself off faster, a little bit harder. “Sorry,” Harry murmurs, kissing him a few more times. “Sorry, sorry. You’re just so bloody gorgeous.”

The tightness in Louis’ chest eases up. “I am?”

“God, yeah,” Harry says. “Bet you’re ever prettier when you come, though. You gonna let me see that?” He makes a show of hitting Louis’ prostate on every thrust, sure of himself, and Louis doesn’t find cocky arseholes attractive. He doesn’t.

He’s still nearly ready to come just from the way Harry’s been unable to look at anything but him since this started. “Okay,” Louis agrees. “But.”

“But I haven’t done enough to prove that I deserve it,” Harry says, which wasn’t what Louis was going to say at all. Harry kisses him one more time before he leans up a little, hauls Louis into a higher angle, and starts nailing him fast and hard.

It takes less than two minutes for Louis to come all over his own chest, but not until Harry says, “Can’t believe you let me fuck you,” quietly, like he doesn’t mean for Louis to hear it. There’s something soft and sincere in his tone, as if he’s been waiting ages for his chance at Louis’ arse, and that.

There’s something about it.

“Unbelievable,” Harry says, loosening his grip just the tiniest bit. “So fucking gorgeous, sweetheart, you don’t even know - ” He’s still talking as he kisses Louis again, losing the words in Louis’ mouth, still fucking him at that same hard, fast pace, and Louis is pretty much lost in his own orgasm, but some instinct has him doing his best to squeeze down around Harry’s cock, trying to make it feel good for him.

Louis’ toes are tingling, going slightly numb, and it’s all he can do to keep his grip on Harry’s back while Harry pretty much goes crazy, and he doesn’t exactly notice when Harry comes, but his hips slow after another minute, pressing up deep inside Louis’ arse, until he’s stopped altogether. He’s still kissing Louis’ mouth, like he can’t stop himself, even though Louis isn’t really kissing back.

After Louis’ toes have regained feeling - which takes a couple minutes, especially with the way Harry’s still kissing him - he lets his arms slip down from Harry’s back and pats him a little too hard on the cheek. “I’m gonna sleep now.”

Harry looks like he’s going to say something, so Louis pats him again and closes his eyes, drifting off fast.

Neither of them mention how Harry hasn’t even pulled out yet.


So Louis had been shaved smooth, they’d both started out the night a little tipsy, and it had seemed like a good idea, having all of Harry Styles’ attention pinned on him.

Harry Styles had fucked his goddamn brains out that night. Louis had woken up to a mouth on his chest, and there had been two more rounds before Harry would even let him out of the bed. He’s pretty sure that Harry’s mouth had been all over his entire body that day, and it had been the best sex of Louis’ life.

Turns out that drunk Louis makes pretty good decisions, even if sober Louis is a little bit slow on the uptake.