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Tangled Up

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“No shoving in the lift,” Paddy growls, when Liam slings an arm around Louis on the way up to their floor and Louis pushes him away hard enough that he staggers. Liam only responds to the shove with a grin and Louis grins back, letting him bounce back and rebalance as he grabs for Louis’ hands. They go back and forth, Louis sneaking his hands free to pinch at Liam’s nipple; then, when Liam retaliates by reaching for his nipples, knocking the back of his knuckles into Liam’s dick.

“Lou,” Liam says on a gasp. His dick is stiff enough under Louis’ touch that he pushes his knuckles in for just a moment longer than he should, testing, before pulling back again. Paddy doesn’t say anything about it, eyes forward, but Louis is sure he sees all from behind the aviators Liam cheekily set on his head after the show.

“Handsy, are we?” Louis says, as though it’s Liam with the wandering hands, even if now he’s twisting Louis’ fingers together and forcing his wrists down away from him.

“Yeah,” Liam answers wryly, pinning Louis’ hand to his hip. His thumb grazes Louis’ dick and presses in with the tip, just enough for Louis’ mouth to fall open at the bite of pleasure. “How about that?”

Louis twists his hands out of Liam’s grip just to show that he can, but his shoulders have to work to do it. “Our floor,” he comments inanely as the lift dings. He pushes Liam again before rushing past him at half a jog, trusting Preston to get his luggage to the right room.

“Tommo!” He hears Liam’s shout from the lift which makes him burst into both a smile and a run, racing down the hall while eyeing his keycard for the right number. He fails to get the card to go on his first attempt and laughs with breathless excitement as he glances over his shoulder to see Liam approach with both of their bags in tow, wobbling on their wheels as he runs.

“You can’t come in!” he yells and throws his shoulder into his next attempt that finally makes the lock open.

Liam has caught up by the time Louis has fumbled the door closed behind him. “You don’t even want your bag?” Liam asks, his foot bracing the door open.

“I’ll just wear this tomorrow!” Louis shouts, leaning his back against the door to hold it against Liam’s foot. He feels Liam jab at his hip with his fingers in an attempt to reach around the gap in the door. For a moment Louis falters, thinking of the possibility of the door slamming shut on Liam’s arm with the weight of him on top of it, before realising that Liam trusts that not to happen. “Get in here, then,” he says at last, sliding his hand down until he and Liam are gripping each other. He takes his weight off the door and they push, pull, and stagger around the door while Liam drags their bags in after him.

Liam drops the bags, lets go of Louis and puts his hands on his hips in a show of finality. “You’re welcome,” he declares pointedly, but he’s grinning as he does.

Louis shrugs. “Preston would’ve brought mine,” he says. “You made me wait,” he starts to say next, but then Liam is crossing the distance between them and pushing Louis back with a hand to his chest, quickly fisting his hand in the fabric of Louis’ vest. Louis brings his arms up to hold Liam off, but then he’s just holding on, as Liam tangles his wrists in a loop of fabric and brings their mouths together in a clash, a too-rough bump to be a proper kiss until they adjust and slide a bit into place.

They break apart as they stumble past the mirror in the room, both glancing to the side to see the tangle of their limbs, Louis’ shirt rucked up over his stomach.

“You couldn’t wait two seconds for this?” Liam asks, jerking his chin down to indicate where Louis’ hands are already straining out of the stretched neck of his vest looped in Liam’s hand.

Louis wiggles his wrist and one of hands pops out of the loop, falling free at his side. He shrugs his shoulder and flicks his fringe to the side. “You haven’t even done it properly,” he says. “Shoddy workmanship, that.”

Liam presses his lips into a line, tilting his head at Louis in silent judgement. “Right,” he says flatly, then reaches down to capture Louis’ wrist again and forces it out of the sleeve to loop the bottom of Louis' vest around both hands more securely. He continues to grip the bunched up fabric to one side, holding the key to Louis’ freedom in the tangled bit of shirt that still hangs around Louis' neck, and forces them back again until Louis stumbles.

He glances back behind him wildly, fearful of rolling his ankle even though Liam’s holding him fast. “Hang on a--” he feels a shoe turn over beneath his feet and staggers again. He can see the sprawl of his discarded clothes around him, and his stomach sinks. “Wait, Liam, I can’t see o--” Liam shifts him out of the path of a cord he only spots at the last minute, poking out of a leg of jeans.

“Trust me, mate,” Liam tells him, turning Louis’ chin to face forward and pressing their mouths together again as he continues to move them backwards. It’s more of a frog march, now, Liam widening his stance so his legs are on the outsides of Louis’, and they continue to swerve slowly, Liam holding Louis up every time he loses his balance. It’s only the reverse of the trust Liam showed him at the door, but it makes Louis feel warm all over, the thought of letting go and putting himself in Liam’s hands, the knowledge that Liam won’t let him fall, or at least won’t let him fall alone.

It doesn’t take long to put that to the test, as Louis’ foot slips on something cylindrical. With a yelp he breaks free from Liam’s kiss and he feels his knees go, feet losing contact with the ground entirely. Liam wobbles in his stance and widens it farther, hand tightening in Louis’ shirt, but they’re both tipping back until Louis feels his abs strain with the effort of keeping upright with Liam bent over him, shirt falling loose around his collar. “Shit,” he breathes. “Life flashed before me eyes just now.”

“I’ve got you,” Liam says at once, as though Louis’ doubt could be real, even for a second. Louis knows Liam’s got him. Louis knows. “What do you want, Lou?” Liam goes on. “Shall we stop here? Or do you want the bed?” He doesn’t look at all like it’s an effort to hold Louis up, even though Louis knows Liam’s abs must be strained as well, and he’s still suspending Louis in his own shirt without having braced himself on the floor or anything at all. Louis can feel it in his thighs, his abs, can feel the tickle of sweat starting down between his shoulderblades. And he imagines Liam’s got it there as well. He can imagine Liam sweating over his pecs down his shirt from lifting Louis about like this, from pretending it’s nothing.

He doesn’t know how far the bed is anymore, and he’s not about to look, not when Liam’s got him like this where it’s just a short drop to the floor and to getting what he’s been wanting since Liam first pulled at his shirt in a promise and a threat hours ago. “Floor,” he blurts, and tests Liam’s grip on his wrists once more. Still tight, cutting in just a bit now that he’s struggled. “Just here, yeah,” he breathes.

Liam lowers him down rather than dropping him, and then he’s kneeling with his legs still on either side of Louis’, taking advantage of the stretchy material of Louis' vest to tug his arms up and to the side of his head. It pulls Louis' arms tight across his chest and Louis is forced to raise his chin to keep the vest tucked under it instead of covering his mouth and face. It lies thin and gauzy against his Adam's apple, and his breath catches as it drags slightly with every motion, one side of his chest left bare as the fabric shifts aside. “Alright?” Liam asks, ducking his head to kiss Louis. This time Louis feels freer to respond, so their kiss is no longer a messy collision of lips and scrapes of teeth. He gets his tongue properly inside Liam’s mouth, licks at Liam’s tongue and lets Liam take it deep. Their lips are slick from their almost-kisses and Liam leaves a wet trail when he drags his mouth away to kiss at Louis’ jawline. He tugs at the strip of vest at Louis’ neck with his teeth to expose more skin to nuzzle at the curve of Louis’ neck and shoulder.

Louis remembers he hasn’t answered Liam yet, and nods belatedly. There’s something stabbing him in the back, hard - he tries to place it in his mind and thinks it feels like a phone charger - but shifting around removes the worst of it, and he wouldn’t move for the world even if he could. Liam’s mouthing a path down his chest to his nipple without being asked, so, yeah, Louis is quite alright.

He tips his head back on a sigh when Liam's lips finally find his nipple and latch on, tongue swirling around it as it pebbles and hardens. Liam's free hand traces a path along the outside of Louis' arm where it's stretched across his torso and through the crease of his armpit, and Louis can't hold back the choked laugh it wrenches from him. "Fuck," he says, breathless, daring to glance down at the top of Liam's head though he can't see much over his own shoulder. "Don't," he warns Liam, hearing the whine in his voice as he does. "I'm still a bit sweaty." He can feel the trail of sweat Liam's wet fingers leave as they continue down his exposed ribcage and stomach, and he flushes at the knowledge that it's all his sweat, even though they've done this, Liam has done this, made him feel this specifically, dozens of times before.

He can't stop himself from arching into Liam's touch, the steady suction on his nipple making him take deeper breaths already as Liam's hand continues down to cup him through his jeans. "Yeah," Louis mutters in triumph, rocking his hips up and prompting a murmur from Liam against his skin. "Get these off," he suggests helpfully when Liam doesn't immediately take his hint and put a hand inside his jeans to properly get to his dick. He's been putting off demanding attention for his hardon all this time, ignoring the insistent press of it against his zip in favor of Liam putting him where he wanted to be. Now that there's nowhere else for Liam's hand to go, he'd rather it get there sooner than later.

Liam doesn't make him suffer, pulling off of Louis’ nipple with a smack and unfastening the button on Louis’ jeans with one hand. He tugs down the zip so the waist of Louis’ jeans falls open at his hips and Louis can shimmy a bit of the way out of them without help. Louis sighs at the release of pressure; now that it’s exposed to air he can feel the damp spot his dick’s made in his pants. “You catch up,” he urges Liam, pointing with his index fingers as best he can with his wrists tilted downwards.

Liam gives him another look. “You’re not really in a position to call the shots, are you?” he says, but unfastens his own jeans quickly anyway, freeing his cock through the opening in his pants. He gives himself a few strokes and rocks into his own hand, without a care that Louis is right in front of him, hard and damp and begging to be touched. Practically begging. He’s considering actually doing it when Liam lowers himself down over Louis again and releases himself just long enough to pull Louis out of his own pants. He wraps his fingers around them both, giving them a dry stroke together. “How about like this?” Liam asks him, palm stuttering over both of their cocks, making them both gasp and shudder at the skip.

Louis blinks up at Liam since he can’t see down the length of his body to watch Liam work. “‘S’ dry,” he croaks. “Thought I was wetter than that.”

Liam looks down at his hand, making a considering sound in his throat. “Not that much,” he comments, and swipes his thumb over the head of Louis’ dick to make him arch his back again. “Maybe in a minute. Want me to keep going?” He dips his head and nips at Louis’ nipple again, and Louis is going to come apart if Liam continues to work him at both ends like this.

He clears his throat so he doesn’t sound quite so far gone. “If you can take it, yeah,” he says, reckoning it has to be at least as dry for Liam, that the drag of skin on skin is at least as sharp for him. There’s the slightest feel of slick that comes when Liam’s hand is on the heads of their cocks, Liam’s pre-come mingled with his, and Louis can feel the smallest eruption of warmth, of him wetting them both, but still not enough to glide. Liam has him sloppy and wet at the nipple, tongue trailing over his chest hair in swirls and swoops as his hand works over them both. Louis can’t stop himself from rutting up mindlessly a few times, unable even to tease Liam about it when it feels so fucking good, when he could selfishly chase his orgasm like this.

“Or I could blow you, yeah?” Liam breaks the suction to say. He keeps his hand working, and Louis can hear the strain in his voice, but it’s still controlled, not speeding up, not giving away how desperate he is when Louis’ this close to telling Liam to shut up and just let him come. “But I couldn’t trust you to keep your hands still, could I?” Liam goes on.

Louis tests the loop of his vest on his wrists again and he knows the only reason he couldn’t fight his way free is because Liam’s holding on, but that’s not what Liam’s asking, and he knows it. “I want you to-- could you fuck me?” he asks instead.

Liam draws back some more, stilling his hand on their cocks. They stare at each other for a moment, Liam considering, before he slowly raises the hand holding Louis captive, urging the bottom of Louis' shirt out from under his chin and back over his head until his arms are more directly stretched above him. “Like this?” Liam asks him, testing his reach.

There’s a comment about Liam not treating him like he’ll break on the tip of his tongue, but Louis just wants him to get on with it, so all he can do is nod, jerkily. “I’ll keep them right here,” he promises, and stretches his arms even farther so they’re just out of Liam’s reach, pressing his palms flat together, his wrists aligned. He’s finally able to meet Liam’s gaze with his arms out of the way, finally able to see down the length of his own heaving chest and ribs to the heads of their dicks poking out of the circle of Liam’s hand.

Finally, Liam nods back. “This might be better on the bed,” he declares, and Louis huffs a laugh, feeling exposed and ridiculous.

“Oh, now you give a shit about comfort?” he asks.

Liam lets him go and gets up off his knees in search of the bedside table. “I just don’t fancy giving you rugburn, is that quite alright with you?” he says as he goes. Louis tries to wriggle his jeans even more down his hips without help from his hands, narrowing and widening the spread of his thighs to work them down.

“Surely there’s some Scout trick to that,” Louis reasons, then lifts his hips when Liam wordlessly reappears at his side with a pillow to tuck under his arse. Liam pulls his own shirt over his head and drops it off to the side, then releases Louis from his pants properly and gets both pants and jeans down and off with as much help as Louis can provide with his hands above his own head. At last, he settles back between Louis’ legs and hitches one thigh up to brace against his chest. Louis can feel where Liam’s pushing the length of his dick against the back of his thigh, but more pressing is the slide of Liam’s lube-slick fingers into his arsehole, stretching and warming him. He turns his head to the side, into his own arm, so that he won’t have to watch himself leak in response to being opened up. He wants to last long enough to get fucked, and it’s too much as it is, so many things he’s asked for in his grasp and all at the same time.

He holds off long enough to laugh at Liam’s struggle to get a condom on with slippery fingers, shrugging in feigned helplessness at the second attempt that results in a torn condom and a fresh packet to be found. “I’d love to help you out, mate, but,” he waggles his fingers. “A promise is a promise, innit?” He can’t be sure Liam doesn’t slide into him with one long thrust just to hear the groan that comes out of Louis when he does, holding the condom on tight at the base of his cock until he’s buried to the hilt.

“Stay still up there,” Liam warns him again, and Louis clenches around him to make him swear. “Well, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Liam gasps, shoving Louis up the floor in increments as he fucks into him. “And this?” he adds, lifting his fingers to tweak at Louis’ nipple where Liam had sucked him before. His fingers are still wet with lube, wet and familiar and slipping over already-sensitive skin while the drag of his cock inside Louis has him buzzing.

He feels like his face is on fire, laid bare and arching between two points of stimulation. “No,” Louis argues, tilting his head back so Liam won’t see how red he’s gone. Liam goes from rubbing one nipple to nudging up the sliver of vest that still covers his other nipple to get that wet as well, and Louis can feel the blurt of pre-come that rolls down the tip of his cock to smear on his belly. His orgasm is suddenly somewhere within striking distance, and it’s enough to change his mind, and his response. “Right there,” he pants, “yes, you’re gonna make me come like that.”

“You’ve gone so tight,” Liam says in wonder, thrusts picking up in pace and rocking Louis further up on the floor, lifting his hips above the cushion. “Need anything here?” Liam asks, and his free hand is suddenly covering Louis’ dick, warm and lube-damp, just pressing it down where it lies on Louis’ stomach. He lets Louis rub against him and himself, and Louis can’t tell him to stop, that it’s too much, his mouth open on a soundless cry that is the drawn-out orgasm he’s chasing. It finally hits in a dribble, then spurts over his chest, making him clench down hard on Liam whilst he shakes his way through it.

“Jesus christ, Louis,” Liam whispers, panting alongside him now, hips pistoning deep into Louis as his knees drag against the carpet. “That was massive, you feel incredible, I’m nearly there.”

“On me,” Louis tells him, a mess of come and lube already on his chest and stomach and dick.

“Are you sure?” Liam’s already got his eyes closed, brow furrowed as he works himself up to it.

Louis can’t remember where his arms are. He’s not sure he can feel them at all. “Can’t exactly stop you, can I?” he points out. “With me hands up here.”

“Oh, god,” Liam laughs breathlessly, changing angle, thrusts going erratic. “Oh, god, you do like that, yeah,” he says, then pulls out of Louis in one stroke. He tears the condom off to stripe his come on Louis across the back of his thigh and his balls, some of it hitting his dick before the rest slips down the head of Liam’s cock over his hand where he’s gripped himself tightly to aim.

In the aftermath there’s only the sound of their ragged breathing as they recover, and then Louis feels a tickle at his rib and squirms to dislodge it, only to realise it’s a rivulet of his own come - or Liam’s - sliding down his side towards the carpet. “Shit,” he mutters, freezing as he feels it make its way down. “We’re disgusting. Payno, this is disgusting.”

Liam shrugs and rubs at his nose with the back of his wrist, both of his hands filthy with lube and come. “Your idea, mate. Are your arms alright?” he reaches up and gently unravels Louis’ vest from his wrists and even though Louis wasn’t tightly bound, he can feel the release and lets his wrists fall apart. Liam rubs the backs of his hands up and down Louis’ arms soothingly, then wipes his palms off on the rest of the vest before slipping it up and off Louis’ arm so he's completely free of it, and chucking it aside. He moves Louis into a more comfortable position, arms at his sides, and Louis shrugs his shoulders, grimacing at the pins-and-needles feel of improved circulation coursing through his arms.

“Don’t lie down there,” Louis warns Liam, as he makes a move to wrap his arms around Louis and settle down beside him. “I’m pretty sure we’ve got a phone charger under here somewhere.” Liam frowns at him, then reaches behind him, groping around on the ground until he’s pulled it out. “Oh, sick,” Louis realises, a beat too late. “I forgot we have arms, now, we can fix things like that.”

“Come here and cuddle me back,” Liam tells him, fully wrapping himself around Louis now, throwing his leg over Louis’. He nudges at Louis’ dead arm with his fingertips. “I said, cuddle me, you big mess.”

Louis tries to squirm and fight his way out of Liam’s embrace, but not very hard. “You’re getting come everywhere,” he complains, as Liam rubs their chests together, deliberately messing them both.

“You love it, though,” Liam agrees, finally bumping Louis’ arm until it falls over his side into something resembling a hug.

“I’ll deny it,” Louis says at once. Liam’s wet under Louis’ arm and he wishes he had the strength just then to squeeze him even closer. “If anybody ever asks.”

“Yeah,” Liam pulls away to grin at him. “But I’d know the truth.”