Work Header

Are You Gonna Be My Girl?

Work Text:

"Kiss me," Louis demands, looping his arms around Harry's shoulders and puckering up.

Harry giggles, his wine-drunk cheeks pink and his eyelashes fluttering at Louis. "What's in it for me?"

Louis frowns. "A kiss, obviously," he says, flicking Harry's reindeer antlers right off his head.

"Those are the terms?" Harry asks, tugging on Louis' elf hat in return. "I'd have to consider it."

He's biting his full lips and his eyes are twinkling, narrowed from the force of his smile. He's completely irresistible. So Louis leans in, pressing his nose to Harry's immaculate jawline. "I had to watch you play with tiny babies and charm my mum all day long, don't hang me out to dry now."

"You really think she was charmed?" Harry asks quickly, leaning back so he can look Louis in the eye again.

As if that's even a question. "'Course. She didn't have to make dessert thanks to you. And you're polite and funny and lovely," he adds before Harry can complain.

Oh no. There's the dimple. "You must really want that kiss, eh?" Harry wiggles his eyebrows ridiculously.

Louis snorts and pushes Harry back, so he can walk around him in a huff. "Whatever, Harold, you can go and kiss my mum for all I care—"

Harry catches him by the waist and shoves him back against the door, finally deigning to kiss him. Louis keeps his mouth tightly shut, feeling rebellious, but all it takes is for Harry to press up against him. His mouth falls open and Harry catches his bottom lip between his own and makes an excited noise.

It smells like Christmas in his old room—in the whole house, really. It smells like evergreen branches and like pudding, warm and familiar, and now there's Harry, who always smells like vanilla and oranges and whatever shampoo he's using. Also warm and familiar. Louis' heart clenches a little and he sighs, giving in completely.

He lets Harry pin him to the door, licking between his lips and biting them softly to hear him moan. His hands creep up from Harry's strong shoulders to his hair, tangling in his long curls and tugging hard. Harry moans again, kissing him sweetly. Louis discovered pretty early into their relationship just how into kissing Harry is, with his pretty lips and easy gasps, could just make out with Louis for ages.

Harry backs off to look at Louis again, grinning. He opens his mouth to say something, so Louis plants five kisses on his reddened lips. He even catches a laugh. Harry's eyes are shining at him. "You did good," he says, ruffling Harry's fringe.

Harry turns his head to kiss Louis' palm. "Yeah? Think she'll have me again next year?"

He bites his lip as soon as the question's out, awkward but hopeful. Louis rolls his eyes. They've only been together for six months, but if having Harry for Christmas this year had been obvious, it would probably be obvious next year, too.

"If you play your cards right," he says instead.

Harry kisses him again, eager to prove his worth. Louis starts to bat him away—he's got a few suggestions on how to play those cards—but then Harry bends his knees and lifts him off his feet, easy as that. Louis wraps his legs around his waist and hangs on, doesn't even interrupt the kiss because he's used to it. Louis is both needy and lazy as a person, and Harry takes pride in giving him piggyback rides everywhere at home, particularly to the shower after a fuck.

He dumps him on the bed gently, but doesn't go far; he can't, since Louis grabbed his scarf and yanked him down next to him. Harry grabs his wrist so he doesn't choke him, but keeps kissing him. The bed is much smaller than the one they share at home, so Louis finds himself tucked between the wall and Harry's solid chest.

Which means it's way, way too hot. He tugs Harry's embarrassing Christmas jumper up but can't bring himself to interrupt the kissing, which is a little problematic when the jumper gets caught under his armpits. He pulls his undershirt out of his jeans instead. It gets stuck too, but at least now he can run his fingers over Harry's abs and feel his muscles twitch.

"Lou," Harry mutters, pawing at Louis' arms and kissing him hungrily.

Louis pushes him until he's on his back and climbs on top of him, biting at his neck until Harry exposes it fully and then starting to suck on the skin. This is usually the part where Harry squirms a little and scratches a lot. This is not usually the part where Harry bursts out laughing.

Not even the polite laugh, but the deep, chortling one he can't seem to contain. Louis stops and straightens up, offended. Harry isn't even looking at him, his eyes are glued to—the ceiling?

He looks up too and, "Jesus Christ."

A huge poster of Captain America is plastered to the ceiling. Harry's chest is still rumbling under him and Louis can't help but laugh too, staring at Chris Evans' beautiful tortured face. "Inspirational," Harry says dryly.

Louis rolls over to lie next to him, not breaking eye contact with Chris Evans' lovely chiselled jaw. "I'll have you know it used to be Beckham up there."

Harry snorts. Louis can feel him taking off his jumper and shirt, but he isn't looking, still haunted by Chris Evans' squinty blue eyes. "Your sister had a Becks poster over her bed?"

"Nah, she's never been into footie. This used to be my room."

"Really?" Harry leans on his elbow, looking at Louis again.

He nods, reaching up to pick at the brittle wallpaper that always got scratched by the headboard. "Yup. She took over it two days after I left for uni, didn't even let the dust settle. With the babies and Dan's promotion, though, they might move to a bigger place soon."

"Oh." Harry rests his big hand on Louis' sternum, blinking down at him with a pout. "So this is your last Christmas at home?"

Louis… hadn't really thought about it. He fights a pout of his own. "Guess so."

Harry gives Louis' cheek a kiss. "It's a nice room."

"Yeah. Lots of memories." He tears his gaze away from Chris Evans and looks over at Harry, eyes immediately landing on his tattooed chest. He's got the nicest chest, even better than Captain America's. Louis' lips are still a little tingly from kissing. "I lost my virginity right here," he points out with a smirk.

Harry probably thinks he's being subtle, but Louis feels his grip tighten on Louis' own embarrassing jumper. "Really? What was his name?"

What a typical, over-specific question. Louis reaches up to brush Harry's hair behind his ear. "Hannah."

Harry blinks in blatant surprise. Louis starts to laugh. "Sorry!" Harry says quickly, mustering a neutral expression. "I just—assumed."

Assumed I've never been with a girl. Louis chooses to take that as a compliment to his amazing gay fuckery skills. "I never told you? I was with two girls before I started dating guys in uni."

Now it's just hilarious, because Harry's face turns from mildly surprised to stonily possessive, the way he is whenever someone breathes in Louis' general direction. "Well. Were you any good?"

Louis rolls his eyes. Was he any good? He turns on his side and grabs Harry's face to pull him in for a dirty kiss, licking into his mouth and hooking a leg over Harry's waist. They squeeze together on the bed, and Louis can feel Harry's cock hardening against his own stomach. Gay skills. He sucks on his tongue and scratches his scalp.

So Harry seems completely dazed when he pulls back. Was he good. Please. "You know how good I am, dickhead," Louis says smugly.

So Louis' surprised when Harry stays on-topic, instead of dropping it and humping Louis. "Good for me, yeah, but I'm not a girl. Did you have special moves for her?"

"You seriously wanna talk about my first time?" Louis huffs, growing impatient. He still has his clothes on. Harry Styles is still wearing pants. What has the world come to?

Harry stays quiet for so long that it's suspicious. Louis nudges him with his nose and narrows his eyes, trying to figure out what he's in the mood for. Harry blushes delightfully and whispers, "Not necessarily talk."

Oh. His mind starts whirling, finally picking up on Harry's mood. Not that it's that surprising, considering that his erection is digging into Louis' stomach. It's a game. He wants to play.

Louis guesses it's a pretty common fantasy to fuck in one's childhood bedroom, but he knows Harry and he knows he's not common. Plus, actually reenacting his first time is pretty mortifying: wobbly limbs and premature orgasms. He doesn't think that's what Harry's looking for.

He'll just see where it goes. "Well, we were snogging, and she was on top, yeah?"

Harry nods, instinctively rolling on top of Louis to plant his head on his chest, big eyes blinking at him to continue. He hums, pretending to conjure up the memory, even though he can't imagine Hannah when he's got Harry's beautiful face and heavy body on top of him. "My shirt was off," he points out eventually.

Harry cracks a smile and sits up, so he's straddling him. He pulls Louis' jumper off, finally. The cool air makes him shiver, nipples pebbling, but Harry's hands are on him in a second. He pushes him flat on the mattress and his fingers start dancing on his skin, a familiar pattern over the tattoos, teasing flicks over his nipples.

Louis can't help touching him back; running his hands over his flanks and scratching up to his chest, then his neck, yanking him down for a heated kiss. Harry rolls his hips easily, arse bearing down on Louis' cock. Pants. Unjust world. "What then?" Harry asks, voice thicker.

His hands travel down Harry's broad back, rubbing circles over his hips and playing with the waistline of his jeans. "I put my hand up her skirt," he says in Harry's ear, biting him for effect. "Felt her wearing nice lacy panties."

It's not even true, but if there's one thing Louis knows about Harry by now, it's that he wears candy stripe knickers to Christmas dinner. Going by the embarrassed smile growing on his face right now, Louis' got him pegged. He slips his fingertips under Harry's jeans and cups his arse, sighing a little when he feels soft, soft material covering his soft, soft skin. Harry hears the sound he made, obviously, and makes a pleased one in return. "Sounds like she was naughty," he comments quietly.

Louis squeezes him roughly, trying to determine if it's lace or satin, and doesn't really think before he looks Harry straight in the eye and says, "Look at that. She is."

The reaction is beautiful. Harry ducks his head, a few curls brushing over his forehead, but Louis still sees the way his eyes shutter, the way he blushes fiercely and bites his lip. He moves his hips back, into Louis' hold, and whispers, "Lou."

Okay. Louis totally figured this out. He's a bit of an expert, really, when it comes to discovering Harry's kinks and likes. This should be fun. He kisses Harry's overheated cheek and says, "Take off your jeans."

Harry rushes to obey, getting up on his knees and yanking his skintight jeans off. The panties go down with them, but Harry pulls them back up instead of off with a hasty glance at Louis. Good boy. When he finally sits down in Louis' lap again, Louis fits his palms over his arse and—it's not candy striped, but it is a red thong, so Louis loses his mind.

Harry doesn't own a lot of lingerie, and the few pieces he has are extraordinary—and probably pricey. They've never talked about it, but Louis likes to imagine that Harry bought each of them as a special treat for himself. This one is designed for packing cock, a delicate waistline and a lacy pouch: sheer, stretchy and with a flowery pattern.

What is candy striped is his thigh highs. Louis literally gulps; even sitting, the stockings make Harry's legs look endless and toned and delicious.

"So pretty, sweetheart," he says, kissing Harry's collarbone gently and tracing the flowers on his waistline.

Harry smiles, even more breathtaking than the get-up, and starts squirming again. Louis' so hard he can feel Harry's weight acutely on his thigh, but it looks nice to have Harry in his dainty thong and socks with his arse out, grinding on Louis' black jeans.

Louis gets an idea, looking at Harry's bulging pouch, but dismisses it quickly. Harry looks too hard to tuck away. Instead, Louis trails a couple of fingers from Harry's bellybutton down in a straight line, rubbing over his shaft like he would a pussy, up and down, like he could get his fingers wet before slipping them inside.

It's silly, until Harry gets it and his muscles jump, a gasp torn out of him. The best part is that he is getting the thong wet, precome blurting from his cock steadily. Louis rubs his thumb over the wet patch, pushing the lace against Harry's cockhead and marvelling at how tightly his thighs clench around him in response.

"Was she wet?" Harry asks suddenly, voice coy and thready.

She was, Louis still remembers feeling his fingers get slicker and thinking about his cock in there and nearly having a nervous breakdown. But Harry's chewing on his lower lip so beautifully. So obviously. "No. Had to help her with that."

"You…" Harry touches his own mouth, teasing. "You ate her pussy?"

"Yeah." Louis stops playing with Harry's cock and gropes his arse again, pulling his cheeks apart and pushing them back together over the string. "Want me to eat yours?"

There's a tense moment. They exchange a look, Louis unsure that was the direction Harry wanted to go in, Harry unreadable. After a few seconds he opens his mouth to deflect, make a joke and then hug Harry tight, but his breath gets caught in his throat. Because Harry looks away and starts nodding, hair bouncing on his shoulders. "Please."

Louis doesn't need to be told twice. He grabs Harry's shoulders and kisses him hard, trying to say I'm into this and it's okay and you're perfect and I love you. Harry gives into it eventually, arms wrapping around Louis' neck. Louis feels Harry's lace-covered cock rocking against his stomach and can't believe his luck.

The bed is too short for Louis to spread Harry's legs and settle between them, so he says, "Get on the floor and bend over the bed."

Harry smiles and gives him one last, lingering kiss. "Yes."

He rolls off of Louis and drops to the floor ungracefully, grabbing a pillow to kneel on. There's a minute before Louis follows him when he's sitting up with Harry kneeling between his knees. His jeans are still on, but Harry's staring at his crotch like he could get his dick in his mouth telepathically. "Look at you," Louis mutters, burying his fingers in Harry's hair. "Kneel so easy for me. Are you a good girl or a naughty girl?"

He expects Harry to laugh, make a Christmas joke or bite his thigh. He certainly doesn't expect Harry's eyelashes fluttering and a soft, almost silent, "Both."

It hits him like a punch. He's so overwhelmed he wants to feed him his dick, fuck down his throat and compliment his pretty lips, but. Not the time. He has to... stand up. He takes the second pillow and tosses it behind Harry, settling down and pushing Harry's back until he's bent over the bed properly. Harry's arse is raised for him, pale and smooth and soft. The lace draped around his waist seems natural and achingly pretty.

Louis makes a show out of it, spreading Harry's cheeks and running his thumb up and down his hole, pressing the thong against his skin. "Pretty pussy," he says quietly, before spitting right on his hole. Not the classiest move, but it does have the desired effect: Harry's wet, and Harry's moaning.

He rubs his knuckle through it, teasing, hinting. Harry's clenching in front of him, his muscles tightening. Louis draws the string back and breathes on his skin, comes so close he can taste him already, clean from the shower he'd taken before the movie. And then he lets the thong snap back on him, the thwack doing nothing to cover Harry's tortured whimper.

Louis remembers with a jolt that his sisters are only two doors over and must still be up. "Gotta be quiet, baby," he says, nudging his thumb along Harry's crack. "I'm not allowed to have girls over."

"Fuck, oh my god," Harry hisses, sagging into the mattress and going still.

Louis' heart jumps. He leans over Harry, pushing his hair off his face and feeling that he's slightly sweaty. "Feel good, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, fuck," he whispers back, burying his face in the blanket since the pillows are on the floor. "Feel hot. Please, need you."

Hot's good. Louis crawls back and spreads Harry open again, finally fluttering the tip of his tongue over his bare skin. Harry's quiet, but Louis can feel him tense up, jittery. He starts to kiss him instead, pressing his lips to his cheeks and sucking marks, scratching down his thighs. He scrapes the waistband with his teeth and says, "Just wanna feel you get wet."

Harry shoves his hips back, thighs shaking. Louis pulls the thong aside and digs in, licking all along Harry's crack and then focusing on his hole in broad strokes. Harry's shaking harder, unsteady under Louis' hands. He doesn't give him a rest, tongue flicking him, sloppy and wet. It starts to strain but he can't stop, wants to give it to Harry, to let him sink into his fantasy completely.

He loves doing this on any day, loves feeling so close to Harry, touching and tasting and smelling and teasing so intimately, feel him open up on his mouth until he's begging to come. On this day, in this fantasy, with lace scratching Louis' cheek, it's something else. It's illicit and new and dirty.

There's spit running down his chin and he just wants more and more, works until Harry relaxes—or just loses it—and prods inside, pushing until his nose is buried in Harry's sweaty skin and he can't breathe. Harry yelps and his hips start twisting, rolling back against Louis' face but quickly thrusting forward into the bed.

The lace must feel like a cage by now, and Louis considers pulling the thong down to give him some relief, but he keeps imagining the red fabric darkening as Harry gets closer and wetter and needier and louder, all for him. So instead he clamps his hands on his arse, so tight it probably hurts, and pulls him back. Giving permission.

Harry curses loudly and goes for it, rocking his hips back and forth. For a moment Louis forgets about the roleplay or even where they are, all his senses fixed on Harry, on fucking in and out of him and making him feel good. His jaw hurts a little, not to mention his knees, but he barely feels it, determined to keep up with Harry's wiggling.

The lack of coordination makes it harder to breathe, but it also makes everything messier and hotter, makes Harry just take it. Fuck himself on Louis' tongue. "Fuck, Lou, I—oh—fuck me," Harry whines, pleading.

Louis pulls back, snapping the thong back into place and trying to catch his breath. He's practically panting over him. Harry's slumped on the bed with his back in a beautiful curve, arse popped out and pink from Louis' firm grip. His hair is flowing everywhere, like he'd been tugging on it all along, and his face is hidden in his elbow. Louis can't possibly help himself, leaning in again to lick him out with a flat tongue, dragging over his hole and kissing the puckered skin.

"Lou," Harry hisses, frustrated. He snaps his hips forward again, and Louis isn't sure if he's overwhelmed or just trying to get off on the bed. Louis would let him, would drape himself over his back and push him into the mattress, feel his desperate grinds and listen to him come, all choked up. But Harry isn't asking to come. "Fuck me, fuck me, please, want you so much, need your cock in my cunt."

Jesus Christ. Louis drops his head onto Harry's lower back and exhales heavily, heart pounding. "Yeah," he manages. "Yeah, I'll give it to you, baby."

Part of him wants to do it like this, to grab Harry's hipbones and fuck him into the side of the bed, but his knees are already buckling. He stands up and runs a flat palm over Harry's back, tracing his spine to reach his hair and then yanking him upright. Harry has to bite his lip hard to stay quiet, but Louis can't really appreciate his expression until they're both on the bed, Louis sitting with his back against the headboard and Harry in his lap.

Harry always gets sweaty and flushed when Louis eats him out, but now his eyes are glassy and his hair is a mess and his lips are deep red. He looks like a dream. Louis cups his arse with one hand and touches his face with the other, thumb pressing down on his damp lower lip. He smiles when Harry instinctively teases it with his tongue, drawing it into his wet mouth. Louis kisses him right over the digit and gives his arse five solid smacks.

Harry reaches out for him shakily, lacing his fingers over Louis' nape and kissing him harder, nibbling over his thumb. Louis' lips feel used already from rimming him for so long, so a moan rumbles out of him when Harry licks over them.

He pulls back, nuzzling Harry's jaw before looking down. The pouch is so stretched over Harry's hard cock that the fabric is almost transparent. Louis pays it no mind as he reaches over to the nightstand, where he dropped his toiletry bag as soon as he came in and fished out his deodorant. Harry's hips start shifting as soon as he sees the lube, grip tightening on Louis' hair.

Louis yanks his thumb out of his mouth and steadies him, hold rough on his arse. He lubes up his fingers excessively and pulls the string of Harry's thong out of the way again. He doesn't even consider taking it off altogether—thinks, his cock needs to be trapped for this, thinks, this is winding him up.

And Harry loves being wound up, no matter what Louis' endgame is. He could take being fucked on four fingers before finally getting dick, and even then, while Louis likes taking it hard and rough, Harry likes it slow and deep and close. He could ask for Louis to grind into him when they're spooning in the morning, for however long it takes him to come with no prostate stimulation at all. Louis would scream bloody murder if Harry tried to pull that shit on him.

He's not heartless, though. He cups Harry's cock with his slick hand, rubbing him a few times just to smooth the friction with the lace. He spends ages rubbing over his crack after, teasing with his fingertips until Harry's whole arse is just messy from his mouth and from the lube. Louis leans closer to him and whispers, "So wet for me, aren't you? Didn't even need to fuck you." He presses a finger to his hole for emphasis, still teasing, still just playing with the puckered skin. "My good girl."

"Fuck, Louis," Harry moans, leaning in to bury his face in Louis' shoulder. Louis takes a moment to really consider what they're doing, how far he's willing to take it. He's not actually turned on by girls, hasn't given it much thought since he switched teams years ago, but. Nothing in the world turns him on more than Harry, and he'd do pretty much anything that works for him. This is definitely working for him.

So Louis would take it quite far.

He finally starts pushing his index finger in, breath stuttering. Harry's hot around him, tight but giving, welcoming. He thrusts his finger all the way in and twists it, wiggling and fucking Harry deep. "So tight," he says in Harry's ear, pushing in and out.

Harry moans and throws his head back, eyes closed and body shivering again. Every time his hips move he grinds on Louis' trapped dick, making him curse, his clothes torturous by now. There's almost no space between them, Harry's cock brushing Louis' stomach, and his arms—his arms caught between them since he's still holding onto Louis' neck. Louis looks down at his sparrows tattoo and gasps when an idea hits him, fingering Harry faster now.

He uses his free hand to grab Harry's elbow and push his arms in, so that his pecs squeeze together like he's got a cleavage. It just hits him all at once, how Harry's wearing knickers and stockings and grinding on his cock and taking two fingers. Electricity fizzes through Louis and he feels—feels like he's starving for it.

He latches his mouth onto Harry's chest, lapping up the nice curve his arms are creating and tracing the tattoos. It's heaving under his lips, Harry gasping like he can't breathe. His hard nipple bumps Louis' chin and he groans, licking down and kissing the nub. He wraps his lips around his nipple and can feel it tighten—can feel Harry tighten, shaking and fucking down on his fingers. Louis feels like he might rip through his jeans at this rate. He bites Harry's nipple hard enough to sting and Harry's hips nudge forward, cock rubbing on Louis' tummy wildly. "Nice tits," Louis whispers against the wet skin, scissoring his fingers while screwing them in.

Harry makes a strangled sound and hunches his back so his pecs are even more pronounced. "Just nice?"

Louis smiles and kisses his other nipple gently. "Beautiful." Another kiss. "Soft. Perky. Nicest nipples I've ever seen. Always hard and sensitive." He looks up at Harry from under his lashes, scraping him with his teeth. "Want me to suck on them?"

Harry nods quickly, curls covering his hooded eyes but not his blotchy cheeks. Louis finds himself caught up in how beautiful he is. "I love you so much," Louis breathes. "Love your tits."

He lets go of Harry's arm, a tiny current of heat rushing through him at the thought that he's leaving bruises behind. Now he can start suckling on Harry's nipple and twisting the other, flicking it where it's hard and wet with spit.

He gets lost in it, humming while fingerfucking Harry's arse. He's going fast, hammering into him and pressing on his spot relentlessly, until Harry's a squirming mess. "Fuck, I—fuck—close," Harry whimpers, swaying back and forth like he's going to pass out. "Wet enough?"

Louis grins, pulling up from his tender nipple and biting down hard on his neck instead, shoving three fingers inside him. Harry collapses on Louis, arms wrapped around him and mouth on his ear, voice breaking. "Please," he adds.

That's better. "Good girl," Louis says, pulling out of him and helping him to his knees. His fingers keep slipping over his zipper but as soon as it's unzipped his pants are off in a flash, Harry staring between their bodies hungrily. His own eyes are caught on Harry's puffy nipples. He licks his lips unconsciously. "Gonna take her panties off?"

Harry kisses him unexpectedly, just a peck on the lips that makes him blink in surprise. Harry looks a wreck, but quite pleased. Louis feels warm all over when Harry smiles at him and kisses his nose. "I love you too," he explains, and then shoves the thong down, over his stockings and to his knees. "Make me come."

Louis gets just a minute to stare at his bare cock—big and hard and curving up to his tummy—before Harry turns around and straddles him like that, back to chest. Louis adjusts fast, hauling Harry back and flipping his hair to the side so he can kiss up his neck to the sensitive spot below his ear. Harry reaches back to aim Louis' cock up, so Louis keeps his hands full with Harry's tits, pushing them together and twisting his nipples.

It feels like he could catch fire when Harry starts rubbing Louis' cock all over the cleft of his arse, getting it wet from the excess of lube. Louis' done a remarkable job of ignoring his own arousal up until now, but Harry's all over him, leaning on him and clenching his candy striped legs around Louis' hips and playing with his cock, bumping it against his hole occasionally and driving him mad with heat. Since he's helping Harry balance he can't just grab him and drag him down on his cock, so he settles for whispering in his ear, "Let me fuck you, baby. Wanna feel how wet your pussy is because of me."

Harry curses and accidentally backs up too much, so the back of his head hits Louis' nose. It's entirely forgotten when Harry lets the tip of his cock inside him, so tight Louis bites his shoulder to keep from crying out in pleasure. Harry doesn't handle himself quite as well—grunts low in his throat as Louis pushes inside, and finishes off with a broken moan when he can't go any deeper. Louis' instinct is to cover his mouth to keep him quiet, but he knows he'll need both hands soon; Harry tires out quickly when he's on top, let alone after rimming. He catches glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Yes.

He balls the panties up in his fist and starts running them up Harry's thigh, lace grazing his cock. "Love your voice, princess, it's my favourite thing to hear," he starts, his own voice hitching embarrassingly because fuck Harry feels divine, hot and eager. "But if you can't keep it down we'll have to gag you. Would you like that?" He drags the thong up his chest, hoping Harry gets the hint. "Having all your holes full?"

Louis doesn't know if Harry meant to start so soon or if it's just an automatic reaction, but when he hears what Louis wants him to do he rises a couple of inches and then comes back down, heavy and good. "Yeah, want to—oh—just take it," Harry says between short breaths, keeping up the slow rhythm.

"Good girl," Louis praises, stretching the thong out so he could fit only the crotch into Harry's mouth. "Making me so proud."

Harry makes a happy sound, craning his neck so Louis can see his profile. So Louis can see him open his mouth wide, tongue poking out. Before Louis can gag him, Harry blurts out quietly, "Just—don't stop talking, yeah?"

Balls-deep in him, Louis would probably agree to anything. He kisses Harry's cheek wetly and then slips the panties in his mouth. He can't lean back yet, though, must steal a kiss from Harry's lips and close his arms around his torso. Harry leans on him heavily, so there's not an inch of space between them and they move together, hips rolling against each other so Louis' grinding deep deep deep.

When the heat becomes too much he stops kissing Harry's neck and leans back, nudging Harry forward. He only meant to encourage him to move faster, but Harry goes further. He plants his hands on the bed and bends forward, back curved and arse thrust out. Fuck, Louis can see his cock stretching Harry's little hole out, slick with—with wetness. And then Harry starts moving.

"Fuck, sweetheart, feels so good," Louis starts, words spilling out of his mouth naturally. He can't shut up in the best of times, and now his gorgeous boyfriend is riding his dick like it's his job. Well, his girlfriend for the moment. Harry rocks back on him faster just twice and then continues a more relaxed pace, which Louis takes as encouragement to keep talking. "My good girl, just needs my cock in her all the time."

Harry moans again, but this time it's muffled through the thong, which makes it even more intense. "Had to gag you just so you won't wake up the whole house," he continues, hands restless over his back and waist and arse, split open. "Bet you'd like everyone to hear you—shit—" Harry bears down roughly, which is a good sign. "You would. You'd like someone to barge in and see you taking cock from behind with your stockings still on."

The gag definitely doesn't mute the destroyed wail that gets out of him. Harry drops to his forearms and starts fucking himself harder, bouncing his arse on Louis' cock so fast it's jiggling, practically begging for Louis to spank it. He knows that would only make more noise, but his hands move on their own, laying into Harry's cheeks five-ten-fifteen times. With each smack Harry tightens up violently, and it feels unbelievable on his cock. He's so caught up in Harry's erratic hips that he doesn't even think before whispering, "My good little slut."

Harry freezes, so abruptly that Louis jolts, terrified at the thought that he pushed too far and Harry—oh fuck, Harry's coming, untouched and whimpering. Louis starts pumping his hips, bouncing Harry and fucking the orgasm out of him for all its worth. When his shaking subsides Louis grabs a fistful of Harry's hair and tugs him upright, so Louis can look over his shoulder and see his heaving chest and straining thighs and still-hard cock.

Then Harry's hand is swiping through the come splattered on his tummy—so much of it, Jesus, and Louis' still inside—and he starts spreading it over his splayed thighs. His thigh muscles are taut from being spread so wide and for so long, pale and beautiful and tattooed, and Louis can feel his face burning as he watches Harry coat them in come. "Getting yourself wet, baby? Dripping from your pussy?"

Harry's cock twitches weakly, reminding Louis of the unbearable heat and pressure on his own dick. He fucks up into Harry without meaning to, moaning in his ear. Harry spits out the panties and grabs Louis' hair with his free hand, reeling him in for a kiss. It's sloppy and uncoordinated and Louis loves it.

He pulls back and takes Harry's wrist, getting his thumb wet from come. "Gonna let me taste you?" he asks.

Harry nods, quivering like he's caught in an aftershock. He lets Louis lift his hand to his mouth, watches with hooded eyes when Louis sucks two of his fingers into his mouth. It's certainly not the first time he's tasted Harry's come—not even today, thanks to Christmas birthday and true love—but the context is a different kind of exciting. Then again, everything is a bit different when his cock is buried in Harry's arse. He bites his knuckle and lets up, some come still on his tongue. "Taste good, love," he says, nudging his temple. "Your pussy's sweet."

"Mm," Harry mumbles, coy but happy, and twists around as much as he can to kiss Louis again. He sucks the come off his tongue, licking into his mouth and humming to himself. "Want you to come too. Come in my—come in me."

Louis is beyond ready for that. He nibbles on Harry's lip gently, and then helps him up and off his dick. They both hiss when he slips out, the loss of—of Harry feeling tremendous. Harry understands that he wants to switch positions, so he gets on his hands and knees, squeezed too tight between Louis and the wall. Louis tuts and squeezes his arse. "On your back, baby." He kisses his nape. "Wanna see your sweet face when I come in your cunt."

"Fuck." Harry scrambles to turn over in the small bed, legs opening naturally. He fixes his stockings, which slipped all the way to his calves during the action. He looks pretty proud of himself when the delicate fabric stretches over his toned thighs, ending in flowery elastic to match his thong. Louis could spend forever and a half between his legs.

He spreads Harry's knees and leans down to kiss him, pushing how hard up he is to the back of his mind. He kisses him until his lips are tingling, until he feels like melting into the mattress, until Harry's definitely ready for another round. He locks his ankles behind Louis' back, socked knees hitched over Louis' hips. When their hard cocks touch, Louis definitely can't take it anymore.

He grabs the lube and spills some more on his cock and on Harry's arse, rubbing it in unceremoniously, and then positions himself. Harry scratches down his back throughout that first thrust, the sting heightening the pleasure of sinking into him. Louis can hear everything now, with his face buried in Harry's neck; every drawn out gasp and sigh.

After so long on his back, Louis' determined to make up for it, working his hips hard to slam into Harry and take him like Harry deserves. Harry's holding on for dear life, ah ah ah in Louis' ear, nails digging into his shoulder blades and heels thumping on his arse. Louis just… lets go, doesn't think about dirty talk or how tiny the bed is or how waking the babies up would be their death sentence. All that matters is this.

He's fucking Harry with his whole body, nailing him with his hips so the headboard thumps into the shitty wallpaper and it's good, it's amazing, Harry gripping him so tight and needing him so much. Heat is coiling deep in him, spreading from his groin to his fucking fingertips. He doesn't let himself stop or slow down, wants to pound another orgasm out of Harry, fill up his pussy with his come.

Harry appreciates his efforts—gleefully lets Louis ravish him. His mouth is hanging open, like he can barely breathe, lips red and puffy and perfect, high-pitched gasps tumbling from between them. He's so—"nice and tight, perfect fuck for daddy's cock, yes—"

His thighs are burning and he's breaking a sweat but it's the best, he feels his best, arousal boiling in him and tension so close to snapping. Harry starts scratching his sides then, deep enough that the haze in Louis' brain clears for just a moment and he realises Harry's trying to get his hand between them.

He slows down but makes up for it by going harder. He shuffles his knees forward so Harry's legs are stretched wider and Louis can get him even deeper, get his spot on every thrust. If Harry intended to ask for something, it's clearly forgotten. His back is arching and his head is thrown back on the mattress, neck bared and cheeks flushed and moaning moaning moaning Louis' name.

Louis keeps up that angle, knees and elbows digging into the bed. It takes a few more thrusts for Harry to make another pass, fingertips trapped between their bodies. "Close?" Louis asks, voice strained and unrecognizably deep. Harry nods vehemently. "Need to touch your cock to get off?"

Harry's head rolls and he leans up suddenly, to whisper in Louis' ear, "Touch my clit."

Louis grunts and kisses him hard, more teeth than tongue. He doesn't know when this stopped being a "doing it for Harry" thing, but it definitely did. Louis' absolutely feverish with how much he wants it. "Gonna take care of you, baby girl," Louis says against Harry's lips, and curves his back enough that their sweaty bodies separate and he can fit his hand between them.

Instead of wrapping it around Harry's cock and jerking him off roughly, he uses all his finesse to rub his cock up and down with a few fingers. In any other scenario, it would've been light and teasing and frustrating. Right now, it's it. It makes Harry come in seconds, arching again and hissing from the overstimulation.

Louis follows suit so fast it might be considered a simultaneous orgasm, which would be one for the record books. He keeps moving, milking it a little, until he's too sensitive. He draws his hand back out from between them, and Harry wraps himself around him again, this time in a hug more than a death grip. He's hiding his face in Louis' neck and is still whining, still overwhelmed, like it still feels too good for him to handle.

Louis pulls out of him carefully, turning him on his side. Before he can return the hug, Harry flips around, silently asking to spoon. Louis moves closer to him instantly, familiar with every contour of his body, where to put his arm and his elbow and his knee. They fit, somehow, despite the height difference and despite the mess between them. Mess on Harry's thighs. Louis hugs Harry tight with one arm and rises up just a little, trying to peek at his face.

Harry's eyes are closed but Louis can tell he's a little teary. He's also unusually quiet, but Louis isn't worried. He rests his head back on the bed, pressing up against Harry completely, so his hair is in his mouth and his knobby shoulder blades are digging into his chest and everything is peaceful. He circles his thumb over Harry's chest, until Harry takes his hand and laces their fingers together. If winding him up is fun, winding down together is a must.

"Did such a good job, kitten," Louis whispers into Harry's hair, squeezing him tight. "I'm so proud of you. Love doing things for you."

Harry sniffles. Louis reminds himself not to worry. "Just for me?"

Louis nuzzles Harry's nape, as if he could physically get closer. "For me, too. It was good for me too."

That's it for a while, just soft, occasional hums, like Harry's feeling too much to keep it inside. Louis brings their clasped hands to rest over Harry's heart. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks lightly.

Harry shakes his head. "Not right now."

"Okay," he says quickly, trying not to spook him. Now, clear-headed, it's obvious to him that what they've just done meant more to Harry than sex, even the kinky kind. But as long as Louis did well and made Harry happy, he won't pressure him to explain. (For the next ten minutes, at least.) "Still my good girl?"

It sounds like a dumb question as soon as it's out of his mouth, but Harry gets it. "Boy is fine, please."

Louis hugs him as tightly as he can, tucked up behind him in that way that Harry said makes him feel safe. "Love my baby boy. Always."

Harry's hums sound more and more content. They cuddle for a long while, both awake and drifting between deep thought and blank daydreaming. Harry's the one that breaks the silence. "What now, then?"

Louis drops a dozen kisses to his shoulder. "Now we sneak into the shower again. Then we can watch a Christmas movie, or steal some rum, or go to sleep. Or peek at the presents."

"Lou!" Harry says, outraged. "I knew you were one of the shitty kids who tore open all their presents before Christmas day."

That is outrageous. Not because it's untrue, but because the only reason they haven't opened their gifts this morning is that they arrived in Doncaster later than expected because of Harry's baking frenzy. "Excuse me, Harold," Louis huffs indignantly. "I was a shitty birthday kid who deserved to tear up whatever he wanted."

Harry giggles, warming Louis' heart more than anything he could've said. He brings their hands up to kiss Louis' knuckles. "I know, baby. Can tear my ass up any day."

Oh, god. Louis barks a laugh, thanks Santa for bringing this ridiculous magical creature into his life, and then tickles Harry's side ruthlessly. "Think it might need a break for now, love."

"Oh, you think?" Harry elbows Louis' ribs gently. "Were you that rough with your mystery girl?"

Louis definitely doesn't want to think about Hannah right now. Better to think about his amazing fuckery skills. "You complaining?"

"Nope." He wriggles a little, burrowing into Louis' chest rather adorably. "Though I do have come dripping out of my arse. Wet, and all that."

Louis knows Harry well enough to know it's far from a complaint, but rather a request. He licks his lips unconsciously, heat sparking up in him at the thought of cleaning Harry up. He nuzzles into Harry again, slipping a thigh between his legs to get even more tangled up. "How about a kiss first?"

He can hear the smile in Harry's voice when he says, "What's in it for me?"