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Let's Take The World By Storm

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Contrary to popular belief, Louis goes on twitter. A lot. As in, he-has-a-second-account-to-see-everything, a lot. It allows him be and active part of their fan base, much more than his verified account, and he likes that, likes that he can get an unfiltered look at how everything is. It also makes him feel like he’s some undercover spy.

Currently, he’s lazing about in his and Harry’s hotel room waiting for soundcheck, passing time by scrolling through his twitter feed. There isn’t much happening within the fandom, so he stumbles across lots of meaningless little headcanons about him and Harry, so this one particular tweet shouldn’t really catch his eye. It’s a tweet with just a link, the caption ’read this!!’, and he decides on a whim to open it.

Louis drops his phone once the page is loaded, then scrambles to find it again to see if he read the domain correctly. Archiveofourown. It’s been a long time since he’s seen it, and it doesn’t surprise him that people write fanfiction—it’s a part of any and every fandom—but he hasn’t seen any in so long that the fact that it exists seems to have floated from his memory. When even was the last time he read fan fiction?

His curiosity is piqued now and decides to throw caution into the wind and decide to start reading, scrolling down to the text.

He doesn’t even get to the summary when he hears a knock on the door for sound check, and locks his phone before heading out the door, ready to play at whatever city it is tonight.


During the concert, Louis is buzzing out of his skin, high on the energy around him and the boys, and somewhere down the line he forgets about everything and loses himself in performing, something that hasn’t happened ever since their Up All Night tour.

It’s their best concert yet.


Harry went to the club with all the members of their crew, being their last concert and all for the album, before they go on hiatus, but Louis wanted to stay back and keep a quiet night; he’d gone clubbing enough throughout the tour that it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t go to another.

After he’s gotten comfortable, changing out of his sweaty concert clothes and into a pair of threadbare sweats and forego wearing a shirt, Louis grabs for his phone and unlocks it, ready to see what fans are saying all over twitter.

He really shouldn’t be surprised to see the link that he opened earlier in the day glaring back at him, but it is, and he's curiosity is spiked through the roof. He resigns himself to venturing further and begins reading, reclining back onto the pillows and scrolling down.

The story premises is really cute, the two of them in college with Louis pranking a storm on Harry without realizing the whole time they’re dating.

He keeps reading, and he may or may not have pumped his hands in the air once Louis figured out his damn feelings for Harry and runs out of his dorm to find Harry to tell him how he feels.

He can feel himself smiling at his story self because he’s fumbling over his own words, trying to articulate his feelings as best he can, and it reminds Louis’ of how he did it himself, when he and Harry were alone in their room and Louis was panicky a bit, until Harry closed his hands around Louis’ shaky palm and Louis looked up, seeing Harry smile back at him.

When he zones back into what he’s reading, Harry is leaning in cautiously, and Louis finds himself reading intently until they kiss, and inadvertently whoops when their lips meet. It’s a soft and tender brush of their lips, at least that’s what it says in the writing, and Louis smiles nostalgically, reminiscing when Harry first got the nerve to quickly peck Louis in the X Factor house, flushing from head to toe as bright as a cherry.

Louis keeps reading, and starts to blush as he reads about him, well fictional him, and Harry french kissing. He should actually stop, nothing good will come out of him continuing because he knows what’s going to happen, but there’s a little nagging feeling in the back of his mind to continue. He vaguely wonders if it makes him some sort of pervert.

The story keeps getting dirtier, Harry roaming his hands over Louis, around and under his tank, and Louis lets out a soft whine when Harry brushes his hands across Louis’ nipples before hooking his arms under his thighs and carrying him to the bedroom.

Louis lifts a hand up to brush his own nipple, and tiniest, tiniest whine escapes. He’s not used to touching his nipples, and Harry hasn’t shown much interest in them, so he doesn’t know what to do with the fact that they're actually pretty sensitive. He rolls one between his fingers and lets his head lull to the side and down, fringe flopping in front of his face, puffing out shallow breaths as he feels his dick twitch, steady flow of blood south.

He  lifts his head up and keeps reading, steady flush creeping up his neck as he goes on, his fingers tugging and pull at his nipple, reading about these filthy filthy things he and Harry are doing, things he never imagined before. At one point, Harry has his mouth on Louis’ arsehole, and even stranger, Louis enjoyed it. It’s embarrassing and a little humiliating, reading about it, and he really should shut his phone down and try to bleach what he read out of his memory, but part of him can’t seem to let go.

Louis is squirming now, fidgeting and ruffling up the sheets, completely and utterly absorbed in what fictional him and Harry are doing. But he keeps going, reading about how thoroughly he's is getting fucked with tears dotting his eyes, face down and ass up with Harry pushing him down between the shoulder blades. Louis has to throw his phone to the side and slam the heel of his hand into his crotch so he doesn't get hard. It doesn't really help.

"Fuck," Louis swears, continuing to dig his hand down, but instead of ebbing his erection, it twitches and Louis has to suppress the urge to whimper. He keeps thinking about taking it from behind, something that they’ve actually never done, and Harry pressing him into the mattress and Louis gets dizzy from the sudden rush of blood to his cock.

He’s going to get off, there’s no point to denying it when he’s this turned on, so he strips out of his pants, and lays flat against the bed, wrapping a tentative hand around himself.

His mind wanders back inevitably to what he just read, turning his head to the side into the pillow as his back arches a little, beginning to slowly pump his fist. His other hand skims down his own chest, brushing over his nipples again and causing his eyes to flash open as he gives out a silent gasp.

Masturbating now only brings to attention how long it’s been since he’s gotten fucked, or has had anything in him at all, matter of fact. They’re always busy, is the thing, and the stress and pressure put on them by everything around them barely leaves any spare time for themselves, and before they know it, days become weeks, weeks become months and it's become a really fucking long dry spell.

Louis brings his other hand down to his hole, pressing a tentative finger against it, feeling himself flutter. It isn't enough to penetrate him, but all of a sudden he just felt extremely empty. He would stand up and find lube, but he's more than certain his knees will give out under him.

He pumps his hand faster, bucking into his fist, and comes with a shout, tears starting to form in his eyes as he gasps. He arches his back further, grinding against the tip of his finger, riding his high out.

His first thought when he’s finally able to form coherent thoughts is that’s not at all how it is.

He and Harry are extremely loving in bed, always in missionary so they can tell each other how much they love each other and look into the other’s eyes, and to put it bluntly, very vanilla. They’ve never done it to where the two of them are frantic and rough about it, never done it in any other position, and definitely never even imagined some of the things that happened in the story, but fuck if it wasn’t hot in the slightest.

Louis lays there on the ruffled sheets and come slowly cooling on his hip, but it doesn’t really matter since he can’t seem to stop the images running through his head, ones of him and Harry doing all of that and more, idea’s popping up and giving his dick a feeble twitch, slowly starting to fill again.

So much for an early night, Louis thinks, wrapping his hand back around the base of his cock again.


Ever since the fanfiction incident, Louis can’t stop thinking about how stale his and Harry’s sex life is, how few and far in between they get off, and he feels it in his gut that something needs to be done. He just doesn’t know what.

He’s getting fidgety, more than normal, to the point of other people asking him if he’s okay. Other people being mainly Harry. And normally Louis would just be indignant, demanding Harry to stop coddling him but still preening under the attention, but since he is in fact not being a thorn in Harry’s side but instead hiding something, Louis just squirms harder out of Harry’s hold.

Harry seems to be having none of it.

Louis is about to get out of bed to go to the kitchen and grab cereal because he’s hungry and he just woke up, regardless of it being ten in the morning, when Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, pulling him back down into him. Harry is all sleep-warm and comfy and cuddly, Louis can’t help sagging back a bit into Harry’s chest, leeching his warmth.

“Where you going?” Harry asks, slurring the words. There’s a high percentage he’s not fully awake yet.

“M’ hungry,” Louis says. They’re kind of really closely pressed together, and Louis’ can feel a certain part of Harry’s anatomy poking him directly in the bum. It wouldn’t be a problem, but Louis keeps thinking about that fucking fanfiction. “Gonna get food.”

“You always make me get you food,” Harry presses closer to Louis, concern filtering through his voice. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Louis snaps, jerking in Harry’s hold. “Nothing,” he says softer. He scrambles out of bed before Harry can hold him back.

He’s more than certain Harry can tell something’s up, but he doesn’t do anything about it. He’s just going to have to hope that Harry will drop it soon.


It's rare that the two of them have nowhere to be at the same time, even on hiatus, and they elect to have a lazy day in, spending the time idling on the couch as reruns of Friends plays on the telly.

Louis can't seem to get in a comfortable position, twisting and turning all over the place and splaying his limbs where ever he wants, only to change them again in a few minutes. He only elbows Harry a handful of times in the face.

He clambers onto Harry's lap, but once he's seated, his back flushed to Harry’s chest, he keeps fidgeting, completely unable to sit still cause of that damn story. He can feel Harry's cock under him, flaccid yet apparent, and keeps thinking about what him in the story would do, and he feels his face go up in flames and his cock beginning to perk up. He's about to change positions again, but Harry's having none of it, tightening his grip around Louis' waist.

Louis tries to adjust himself so it's not so bad, but the motion of his hands don't go unnoticed.

"Louis, stop squirming," Harry says, sitting up straighter to hook his chin over Louis' shoulder. Louis freezes, hand gripping the shape of his cock over his sweats, fishmouthing as he tries to stutter a response, but there really isn’t anything he can do to hide what he’s doing. Once Harry sees where his hand is, his eyes widen, exhaling out an “oh.”

“Now what’s this?” Harry says, reaching around Louis and settles his hand on top of his. Harry’s tone is light and teasing, flirty more than anything, but Louis panics and wriggles harder, trying to get out of Harry’s grasp.

Harry tightens his arms around Louis, holding him tight in his lap, but Louis is the king of getting out of a clingy Harry’s hold, and ends up falling flat onto the couch once he breaks through Harry’s arms. Louis flips over, ready to let out an indignant retort, but Harry fits himself between Louis’ thighs and holds down Louis hands above his head.

“Louis, stop it,” Harry says, and Louis squirms harder, just to spite him, but the harder Louis squirms, the tighter Harry’s grip on his hands are. "What the fuck has gotten into you?”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just wills the flush to go away. Harry is leaning all of his weight onto Louis, and Louis still has his problem going on. He’s twitching in his pants and there’s no way Harry can’t feel how hard he is under him.

He opens his eyes briefly to see Harry’s reaction, and can tell the exact moment that Harry puts two and two together, experimentally rolling his hips down into Louis’ crotch.

Louis moans out immediately, turning his face into his bicep and biting at the skin to suppress anymore moans. He feels less in control, giving up and resigning himself to feeling Harry above him.

Harry rhythmically grinds down into Louis, eliciting the tiniest whimper out of him, the kind that means he really really wants sex, but there's no way they're getting up, almost too horny to think of anything else besides them against each other.

They come not soon after, fusing their lips together and kissing each other through it, hips moving together without any thought involved. They're both sweaty, breathing ragged and come cooling on the inside of their sweats.

“What was what about?” Louis asks. He knows what Harry is talking about; he’s really just trying to buy himself time.

“Just now,” Harry says, curls sweeping down in front of his face. “When was the last time we did that?”

“Probably X factor house?” Louis says, and he can’t help but smile when Harry stuffs his face into Louis’ neck.

“That long ago, huh?” Harry says, half the words muffled by Louis’ collarbone.

“Mhmm, probably,” Louis says, carding his hand through Harry’s curls. “Good though, right?”

Harry purrs at the feel of Louis’ hand in his hair. “So good.”

"Better than some of the things we've done recently," Louis muses.

"Careful, Lou, don't bruise my ego."

Louis coughs awkwardly. "It's kinda true though."

Harry lifts his head off Louis' chest to look at Louis' face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

“I don’t know, but our sex life feels a bit boring, ‘sall,” Louis says, completely avoiding eye contact.

“Boring,” Harry says flatly. He doesn’t say anything more, and Louis looks up to see that Harry seems to be mulling it over.

“Yeah, boring," Louis says, and keeps talking before Harry can pipe up. “I mean, think about it. We’ve been dating since X Factor, and now things are starting to drag a bit. We don’t even have the time for handjobs anymore, much less actual sex.”

Harry seems stunned, to say the least. “Wow, Louis, tell me what you really think, why don’t you?” He says, sounding a bit hurt. Louis wants to kick himself for putting it there.

"Just listen, Haz," Louis says, "When was the last time we even had sex? And not like messy handjobs or a quick blowie, but actual penetrative sex?" Harry sits there silent, unable to pinpoint a time, and that’s really all it takes for Louis to deflate, speaking up sadly. "My point exactly."

Harry flops down on top of Louis and holds him close, stuffing his face into Louis’ neck. "It really has been a while, hasn't it?" Harry sounds as tired as Louis feels.

“Yes it has,” Louis says, shoving at Harry’s shoulders so he can get up. “Get off me, you big oaf.”

“What if we did something about it?” Harry asks, completely disregarding Louis’ order and staying put.

Louis stops wriggling and feels himself start to heat up. “Like what?”

“You tell me,” Harry says, and keeps talking when Louis doesn't speak. "Want me to be rougher with you? Throw you around a little and fuck you harder? Seemed to like it  just then, grinding  like animals, holding you down."

Louis turns scarlet. "Harry, you can't just say things like that, I can't let you do that," he hushes, panic ebbing it’s way into his voice.

Harry crawls up a little so he’s eye level with Louis under him, smirking. “Why not?”

Louis sits up abruptly, pushing Harry’s shoulders back, so they’re more or less separated and sitting up. “Listen, if you want to tell me I’m weird for wanting more sex, then just do it, don’t make me feel bad for wanting it.” He says it bitterly, putting up defenses against Harry, of all people, but he can’t help but feel a little alone and hurt.

Harry’s face falls, brows furrowing in confusion. “I don’t think that at all,” he says, closing the distance between them, hovering his mouth next to Louis’, his tongue darting out to lick at his own lips, dry and chapped. His eyes flicker down when he hears Louis’ breath hitch, flush making it’s way back up Louis’ neck. “In fact, I want it. A lot.”

Harry trails his hand down Louis’ chest, all the way down until he’s at the waistband of Louis’ sweats, dipping his hand inside to hold Louis’ cock, still covered in his own come.

Louis gasps unexpectedly at the touch, rutting into Harry’s palm instinctively, chasing the feeling. “Harry, fuck.”

“Got you, Lou,” Harry says, squeezing firmly over the head before moving himself lower, taking Louis’ sweats with him. Louis can barely take in the sight.

Harry’s mouth wraps around the head of Louis’ cock, and that’s the end of that.


They don’t really talk about it after that, but Louis finds him and Harry getting off more often than before.

And it’s not to say that it’s some sort of chore—getting off—but there isn’t a level to their excitement anymore. He’s craving something that’ll leave him thinking about it the next day blushing, even something that builds  the anticipation in him, but nothing they do seems to be it.

And there are instances where he knows they’re trying to spice it up, add some sort of raciness to their sex, like the other day, when Louis found himself bent over the kitchen island and getting finger-fucked — and then actually fucked — under the pretense of “just a change in scenery.” Harry’s words, not his own.

But Louis wasn’t feeling it, didn’t feel natural, and he feels fucking terrible for thinking that. He thought it would end at Harry being a little rougher sprinkled with some manhandling, getting thrown around in bed like the fanfiction he’d read, but he still wants something more.

He just wishes he knew what.


Everything comes to head a few days later, Louis coming back from grocery shopping — contrary to what the fandom believes, he is at least somewhat capable of housework, and greeted by Harry standing at the doorway, looking ready to jump out of his skin.

“Can we talk?” Harry asks, hands jittery.

Louis feigns ignorance. “What about?”

“You know what about.”

“Sure,” Louis says, the word coming out extremely wrong, cracking and high.

Neither of them move, just stand there in silence, awkwardly staring at each other.

Harry speaks up first. “So, should we sit down?” he asks, shifting in his feet.

Louis doesn’t know what else to do. “Yeah, I guess.” He's mentally slapping himself for stumbling over his words, but Louis feels so out of his element and without guidance.

They both sit down on the couch with a good foot of space in between them, Louis’ ankles in Harry’s lap, and the air is stiff, a giant elephant in the room. Time passes, and after a moment, Harry’s the first to speak up.

“So something is up between us and our sex life,” Harry states bluntly, tracing circles over the bare skin between the cuff of Louis’ jeans and his socks.

And well, Louis starts squirming, his clothes suddenly too tight because it’s exactly what Louis was thinking, and now it’s glaringly obvious that things have shifted between them, aren’t what they used to be five years ago. “I think we should spice it up, add some things, you know?” Louis says, squirming in his seat. This is officially the most awkward conversation in his life, surpassing even the one where the boys found him and Harry in a closet with Harry's hand down his pants before they told them about their relationship.

“Okay,” Harry says, nodding with a considering lick of his lip and furrow of his brow, “things like what?” he asks, wrapping his hands around Louis’ ankles and hauling him into his lap. “You were too far away,” Harry murmurs in explanation, almost as if expecting to be chastised.

“It’s okay,” Louis says, squirming around until he’s comfortably straddling Harry, eye contact now unwavering. It’s quiet for a moment as he considers the question, for the first time, thoroughly. “I’m not sure,” he says finally, “I haven’t thought about it a lot, to be quite honest,” he continues, looking down at his hands briefly, nerves starting to build back up

“I have,” Harry admits sheepishly, and Louis’ head whips back to look at Harry, gauge if he’s saying the truth.

“You have?” Louis can’t help how incredulous he sounds.

“I mean, yeah, and there’s a bit,” Harry says, turning scarlet himself.

Louis is uncomfortably aware of their position, his thighs on either side of Harry’s hips, a certain part of Harry directly under the cleft of his arse, and winds his arms around Harry’s neck, bringing their faces close. “Like what?” Louis mimics, voice coming out airily, and for what he’s hoping resembles something seductive.

"Come in you bare," Harry breathes, gigantic hands coming to grope handfuls of Louis' bum. "'Ve been wanting to for a while."

Louis' breath catches, eyes widening slightly. They've always used a condom, crazy as it is for a couple of five years, and when they hadn't, Harry would pull out and use is fist to come all over Louis, making him more messy. This. This is different, but Louis wants to know what it feels like to come on Harry's cock, wants to know what it feels like to be full even after Harry's pulled out. "Okay," Louis exhales, "Fuck, okay. What else?"

“Just in general want to play with you more, that’s for sure,” Harry says, slipping his hands around Louis’ waist, resting them at the dip of Louis’ back.

”Play?” Louis asks coyly, “What does ‘playing’ involve?”

“A lot,” Harry breathes, “There’s so much, fuck.”

Louis starts moving his hips, minute enough for Harry to think it’s just him readjusting his position. “Gotta tell me though. Wanna know what you want to do to me.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums, tipping his head forward so he’s mouthing at Louis’ collarbone. “Think the surprise is the best part of it.”

“A surprise? What if I don’t want it?” Louis asks, "Whatcha gonna do then?"

Harry shrugs noncommittally. "Then I'll stop. Hopefully you trust me enough to stop when you ask, just like how I would trust you to tell me if you don't like something."

The amount of trust Harry is talking about is monumental and intimate, and there’s a little part of Louis that wants to see how far he can push and be pushed by Harry.

He jumps off Harry’s lap as quickly as he can, turning and running down the corridor. “That’s it, we’re going to the bedroom," Louis yells behind him, Harry following quick on his heels.

They don’t even make it to the bedroom, tripping over their feet in haste and tumbling down, Louis landing on Harry with an ‘oof!’ and they laugh at themselves, acting and feeling like teenagers again.

They’re smiling too hard to even kiss properly.


It’s seven am when Louis wakes up, grumpy and irritated, because fuck what Harry and the rest of the boys say, seven is bloody early. He needs tea.

He's fiddling with the tea pouch when Harry meets him in the kitchen. Only he doesn't know Harry is in the kitchen because he didn't wrap himself around Louis as a greeting like he usually does. No, Harry decided to announce his presence by asking him the most bizarre question of all time, then wrap himself around Louis’ waist, acting like everything is fine and dandy.

“What if i tried eating you out?” Harry asks, and Louis tries his best not to jump and spill his tea he’s making. He may or may not have jumped anyways.

”Jesus, warn a guy,” Louis says, grabbing a nearby napkin to wipe any spillage. Seriously. Who springs ass eating, of all things, so early in the morning?

"Sorry, Lou," Harry mumbles, stuffing his face into Louis' shoulder. "But I'm serious, do you wanna try?"

“I mean, don’t you find it a little strange?” Louis fumbles, trying really hard to articulate his feelings about this. He knows it isn’t as strange of a thing he’s making it out to be, it’s got to be extremely popular in porn for a reason, but he’s still got this immediate recoil reflex when he thinks about Harry’s mouth there.

“I don’t think it is,” Harry says, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his chin. “But, I do know that you’re stupidly sensitive there and I’d definitely love to see you fall apart on my tongue.” The gleam in Harry’s eye is absolutely wicked.

How does he manage to say things like that so easily?

Louis’ inquiry doesn’t stop the visuals speeding through his mind, some of them flat on his back with Harry’s head between the soft of his thighs, some of them on his hands and knees with Harry’s hands holding his cheeks apart, all of them unbidden, and his body starts to feel hot. His mind accelerates, thinking about Harry going at it, really fucking into him with his tongue, for christ's sake, hands unsettled and roaming everywhere, over and around Louis, and it's dizzying how quickly he went from incredulous to aroused.

“So do you wanna try?” he asks, and Louis looks up to see the green of Harry’s eyes so clearly, then drops his gaze to Harry’s mouth, imagining those soft, lush lips pillowed over him down there, and he can’t seem to say 'bedroom’ fast enough.

They somehow make it to the bedroom, intercepted by so much slamming into walls and kissing frantically, until they topple onto the bed, hands roaming around and under clothes,

“Love kissing you,” Harry says, sucking gently on Louis’ upper lip, “but I gotta use my mouth for something else.”

Louis pulls away with a groan. “You aren’t slick, Styles.”

“Eh,” Harry shrugs, “just take your clothes off and turn over."

Louis complies, and he’s up on his hands and knees, Harry behind him, as he waits for the first swipe of Harry’s tongue.

He clenches up immediately, the feeling so foreign to him, but he wills himself to loosen. It’s not life-changing, which shouldn’t be shocking, but it is. He doesn’t whine or beg for more like fictional him does when he first read that story, and he’s not taking away a lot from this. They’re very wet and weird, awkward and tentative, the licks Harry is giving, feather light, and Louis is starting to feel a tad awkward. Maybe this was a really dumb idea after all.

He’s about to say so when Harry pulls his mouth away. “Does it do anything for you?”

Louis looks over his shoulder. “No, not really, to be honest.”

Harry looks down at Louis' hole. "What if I -"

“Harry, I don’t think -” Louis starts at the same time, but he’s cut short when Harry grabs a handful of bum in each hand and pushes down, simultaneously forcing Louis’ hips flat against the mattress and pulling them apart, diving back in between Louis’ arse cheeks and redoubling his efforts.

Louis is taken by surprise to say the least. Harry is really going at it, spit starting to dribble down the back of his thighs, and Louis feels as though his arms are going to give out. He didn't anticipate getting eaten to feel this good, better than the fanfiction, and he's going through sensory overload.

"Baby, you taste so good," Harry slurs, words sending slight vibrations through Louis, causing Louis' hairs to stand on end. He lifts Louis' hips back off the bed so it's easier to eat him, back on his hands and knees, cock blood heavy and swinging between his thighs. 

"Harry I -" Louis gasps, swallowing the rush of saliva to his mouth and trying again, "Harry, just - fuck."

Louis whining only makes Harry go faster, harder, licking so insistently and fucking his tongue and moaning at the taste of Louis. The coil of heat keeps winding tighter, growing hotter, and Louis wants nothing more than to get a hand around himself, wank to the feeling of Harry’s bloody tongue in his arse, but he’s more than certain he’s gonna fall on his face if he does, arms already shaking as it is.

Something in him snaps, and he’s wailing out, his arms actually giving out from his weight, faceplanting into the duvet and coming, untouched and messy. It's absolutely shocking, orgasming without anything guiding him there, even more with the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, dampening the sheets. His body is heaving through the aftershocks, turning his head to the side so he can breath properly.

Somewhere in between him coming and going lax, Harry stopped moving, hands frozen on Louis' bum. “Lou, did you just —” Harry cuts himself off, utterly stunned speechless.

“I didn’t even know I could do that,” Louis says, awe coloring his voice.

“God, fuck,” Harry curses, and Louis feels the bed shift behind him so he looks over his shoulder. He’s met with Harry on his knees behind him, pants halfway down his thighs, hand flying over his cock until he’s coming, everything landing on Louis. It's primal, Harry practically marking him, and Louis' curls up smaller, already feeling the post-orgasm haze start to put him under.

“Fuck, that was incredible,” Harry says. “Didn’t expect you to actually come just from that.”

“Don’t get cheeky, babe,” Louis says. There’s come splattered over his arse, and he doesn’t know if he can even say that to Harry.

“You’re really squirmy,” Harry observes, leaving the bedroom to the ensuite to get a flannel.

“You say that like you don’t already know that I am,” Louis fires back, reaching out to grab a pillow, hugging it under himself as Harry starts to clean him up.

“What if I tied you up?” Harry asks, the flannel stopping mid-swipe.

Louis looks over his shoulder and sees Harry’s gaze, teasing and flirting, and sends one back, adding a wink. “Gonna make me take it?”

“Yeah, I think I will,” Harry says, finishing cleaning Louis before draping himself over Louis’ back. “Another day though, I’m proper knackered.”

Louis yawns. “Me too,” he says, wriggling back until they’re pressed closer, drifting off to sleep.


They talk about it the next day, bondage and what that implies, talking through the rules and establishing a safe word, the whole nine yards. Louis is buzzing out of his skin to try it, but he's anxious, is what he is; they've never done anything like this before. Harry seems to notice Louis' apprehension and speaks up.

“If you want, you can tie me up first,” Harry suggests, holding the scarf out for Louis to grab.

“I—Yeah, okay,” Louis utters, taking the scarf from Harry. The material is soft and worn from use, the coloring starting to fade. Even with Harry giving him the control, he’s still bloody nervous. He knows how he likes his sex, and it’s always been with him pushing Harry to give it to him, up to the point where he can’t keep that control anymore.

What it’s not always been, though, is Louis having full control, and—though he knows very well that Harry could easily pull from him from his restraints—it’s nerve wracking, being allowed to have it so willingly from Harry, calling the shots.

That’s not how they fuck. Harry doesn’t just give it to Louis, Louis works for it, demand it, and Harry would oblige to appease him, with a stupid grin and eyes that remind Louis of whose hands he was in.

But they're trying to ‘spice things up,’ Louis’ own damn suggestion, and he knows that this is Harry trying. In light of that, Louis doesn’t object but, despite trying to assure himself that change—the very thing they were encouraging considering their dying sex life—is okay, good, even, Louis isn't confident, and it’s not simply fear of trying something new, it’s the thought of ‘what if it’s not good,’ or ‘what if Harry doesn’t like it,’ and what if Louis’ not good? What then?   

Snapping out of his thoughts, it quickly becomes obvious that Louis’ unease doesn’t go unnoticed. "Baby, I'll be fine," Harry promises, encircling one hand around Louis’ wrist before closing in for a lingering kiss.

That’s all he needs to hear before he remembers that Harry wants this, the he’s the one who suggested it in the first place. He takes a short, decisive breath. “Okay, lay flat and hands up," Louis says with newfound confidence, fingering the silk of the headscarf.

Harry reclines back onto his elbows, lust starting to cloud his gaze, until he’s fully laid against the pillows. Louis climbs over Harry, straddling his chest, so he can lift up a little to tie a knot around Harry's arms, fastening him to the headboard.

He feels light-headed once Harry is tied, grabbing the lube that's discarded on the side and clicking the cap open, starting to slick up his fingers. He reaches behind himself to smear some over his hole, getting it wet before sinking a finger in, only the tip.

"Turn around," Harry murmurs, words starting to slur together. "Wanna see you."

Louis falls to the side off Harry before straddling the other way over Harry's stomach, seeing Harry's cock drooling from the tip. He slowly sinks a fingers back into his hole, further in, teasing himself with shallow thrusts. He feels a bit shameful, fingering himself with Harry’s gaze directed straight to his hole. It makes him feel exposed and vulnerable, and nothing ever really does, so this is really throwing him off-kilter.

“God, Louis, you look so good, fuck,” Harry strains, the bed frame squeaking from Harry pulling against his restraints. “Wish I could touch you so badly.”

Louis casts a glance back over his shoulder, arching his back and adding a finger, speeding his hand up as he goes. “Yeah?” he breathes. If he can’t compose himself on the inside, at the very least he can fake it.

"Wanna wreck you," Harry says, and Louis falters with his hand. The way Harry says it, exuding easy confidence, makes him wanna try it, have Harry give it to him long enough, hard enough, to the point that Louis cries.

Louis swallows. "Maybe another time," he breathes, slipping his fingers out and turning himself back around to face Harry.

Harry’s flushed, all the way down to his chest, his hair matted to his forehead and the rest of his body covered in a thin layer of sweat, panting at the sight of Louis alone. Louis leans one hand back on Harry's thigh as the other holds Harry’s cock upright so he can sink down, until his bum is flush with Harry's hips, Harry digging his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from coming right then and there.

Louis starts out slow, grinding his ass on Harry’s cock more than actually riding, testing the waters of what’s to come. He slowly starts to speed up, bouncing properly, and he feels a bit power drunk, being able to control the pace and watching Harry thrash against his restraints. His thighs start to shake when he lifts himself up from exertion, so he plants his hands on Harry’s chest for leverage to fuck himself back onto Harry’s cock. He brushes his hands across Harry’s nipples and hears him moan out, stifled and broken. Louis slows everything down to a slow grind, fully seated on Harry’s cock, balls deep and clenching tight like he knows Harry likes.

He looks down at Harry through hooded eyes and sees where his hands are splayed, right over Harry’s nipples. On a whim, he decides to twist one, sharp and hard, and he's rewarded with Harry moaning obscenely and arching into his hand, driving his cock deeper into Louis.

"Fuck, Harry, babe, you feel so good,” Louis lulls, bouncing faster, “Could stay like this forever.”

Harry yells out and comes, muscles tensing and blindly thrusting his hips up and shoving deep, painting Louis white on the inside. The feel of Harry getting so deep in him shocks Louis, feeling so full to where he feels like Harry is consuming him from the inside out, and comes himself, impaled on Harry’s cock, spurting over Harry’s abdomen. Louis grinds back, riding out both of their orgasms with aborted movements.

Once they’ve calmed down, sweat cooling on their overheated skin and the feeling coming back to their muscles, Louis finds it in him to lift himself up, Harry’s cock easing out of him, soft and covered in come, dripping himself. It's feels strange, something warm and wet leaking out of him, marking him, but it's definitely not unwelcomed.

Loui flops down on the bed besides Harry. "M'tired."

The bed creaks with Harry pulling at his restraints. "Lou, get up,"

"Don't wanna."

“Louis, untie me, I gotta clean us up,” Harry says, and Louis grunts, lifting himself to untie Harry, his entire body feeling like lead.

He doesn’t bother with moving after untying the knot, a dead weight on the sheets, Harry getting up to get a flannel for them. His eyes are closed, but Louis feels himself getting wiped down gently, and dozes off between Harry throwing the dirty towel in the laundry and Harry wrapping himself around Louis’ back, stuffing his face into Louis’ shoulder.


Louis slowly blinks awake to Harry tracing the contours of his shoulders and a dimple poking out of his cheek.

“Morning,” Harry whispers, as if speaking normally would break the air around them hanging between the grey area of day and night.

"Morning," Louis rasps back, lifting his left hand to fix an errant curl falling in front of Harry's face. "You've got sex hair."

"I would hope so," Harry grins, "Had some pretty amazing sex last night." Harry rubs at his wrist, and Louis tracks the movement, memories of last night flooding back to him. He wills himself to stop thinking about it, otherwise they’re going to jump each other’s bones again. On second thought, that doesn’t sound so bad.

"Kinda wanna try it the other way," Louis says, voice low, "with me tied down?"

“I’d love to try it the other way, too, see you thrash against the headboard,” Harry agrees, dipping down for a kiss.

"Mmm," Louis hums, bring a hand up to cup Harry's face, "Next time, we're doing it, babe."

Harry laughs, brighter than the sun. "Sounds like a plan."


'Next time' seems to translate into 'tomorrow,' the two of them kissing and rolling around in bed after an impromptu wrestling match. Harry was reclining on the bed channel surfing when Louis decided to get a running start and pounce on Harry. They both go down, Louis trying to grab both of Harry's arm while Harry does the same, but everything is intercepted by so much kissing, it’s devolved into them messing about in the sheets.

Louis tears his mouth away, laughing when Harry pins him down and digs his hands into Louis' armpits, Louis screeching with delight. "Wait, wait, wait! Harry!"

Harry stops tickling him, cackling and kissing him, smiling too much for it to be an actual kiss. It starts getting steamier when Harry parts his lips, cupping Louis’ jaw to tease at the seam, sneaking his tongue in, before pulling back so his mouth is hovering slightly, eyes locked on Louis’ lips. “Is now ‘next time’?”

Louis’ eyes flutter open, Harry looking up to stare into the wells of Louis’ eyes. “It could be ‘next time.’”

“Do you want it to be?”

Louis swallows. He keeps getting assaulted by how Harry reacted yesterday, lithe and beautiful, and can’t help but think about being in the same position. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Harry smiles, planting a smacking kiss before retrieving the headscarf, still abandoned at the headboard from yesterday. “C’mon, up you go.”

“Not a dog, Styles,” Louis says, but complies nonetheless, reclining on his back at the head of the bed, lifting his arms up.

Once he's tied up, Louis squirms against his restraints, but it gets to him that he's pretty much at Harry's mercy now. It should scare him, that Harry can do whatever he pleases, but Louis trusts him enough to know that Harry will stop when he asks.

Harry rolls off the bed and on to his feet, walking out of Louis’ view. “Where are you going?” Louis asks, pulling against the scarf, trying and failing to sit up so he can see Harry. He twists his head awkwardly, and it’s probably the best he can do to see Harry marginally in his peripheral vision.

Harry looks back over his shoulder, his gaze wicked. “Got a present for you.”

“What is it?” Louis calls back. He can’t see Harry anymore, having walked out of his line of sight, and Louis is buzzing with anticipation.

Harry doesn’t speak up again until Louis can see him kneeing up onto the bed, one hand hidden behind his back. “Got a ring for you, Tomlinson.”

Louis scoffs. “You would be one to make a joke about that right now.”

Harry settles over Louis, hovering over him with a one-armed plank, the other still hiding whatever it is behind his back, and his eyes go wide with faux innocence. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean?”

Louis would be inclined to believe him if Harry’s dimple didn’t poke out from his smile. His boyfriend is honestly the worst liar on the planet. “Oh come on, I’m literally tied to the bed right now, and you’re talking about a ring?” Louis shoots, squirming against the pillows.

“It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” Harry says, ducking his head down and curls falling in front of his face, blocking Harry’s evident smile from Louis’ view. “Me tying you down?”

Louis stops squirming. He would normally laugh at Harry making a double entendre out of it, laugh at Harry having the audacity to make such a lame joke, but something about the way he says it makes his blood rush faster. The idea of marriage isn’t something new to Louis, he’s known Harry was his version of forever since the beginning, but the fact that Harry might actually propose is making his head woozy.

“You did not,” Louis exhales. Harry can’t have an actual fucking ring behind his back. He just can’t.

Harry lifts his head, sly smirk across his face, wiggling his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” Louis feels something thrum through him, whether it be shock or arousal, he doesn't know.

“Mhmm, You’re a terrible liar. I would figure out before you popped the question,” Louis hums. All this talk about them being together for the rest of eternity seems to have his blood flowing, especially to his cock, and he really can’t think straight. “Besides, I’m going to propose.”

Okay, that was just word vomit. But Harry still stops shifting on the one hand that’s holding him up and looks at Louis dead in the eye. “That’s a lie.” Harry strains, voice hard.

“Nope,” Louis says, popping the ‘p’ when he says it. It’s easier to mess with Harry than it is to focus on how it’s affecting him. “‘Ve got a ring and everything.” He’s bluffing. Louis is bluffing so badly he has to advert his eyes from Harry, but he’ll do anything to stop Harry from talking about bloody marriage.

Harry doesn't catch on, and all the air seems to rush out of him. “You are not proposing,” he says, tone of finality in his voice, and Louis would be affronted that Harry is upset with the idea with Louis proposing, but Harry keeps talking. “You are not taking the privilege of proposing away from me.”

"Not if I can beat you to it," Louis says, starting to feel that he's gaining the upper hand.

“You won’t,” Harry says, glint in his eye. “Because I have plans. And besides—” Harry pulls his hand out from behind his back to show Louis what he has. “—I do have a ring for you.”

Louis mouth drops open when he finally sees. It’s a fucking cock ring, and now that he knows what it is, what’s going to happen, he can't stop picturing what it will be like, wearing it, stopping him from coming and keeping him on edge. His mouth goes a little dry.

“What was that, Louis?” Harry asks, smirking and oozing easy confidence. His face drops a little bit when Louis doesn’t respond. “Is this okay?”

Louis is just. He’s so out of it with his thoughts running wild with an actual cock ring in Harry’s hand, accompanied with a smirk sitting right in front of him that he doesn’t realize Harry’s even speaking to him until he blinks and notices the look on his face.

His mouth is still dry, opening and closing a few times, before he manages to find his tongue long enough to articulate an answer, at least of some sort. “Fuck,” is what he comes up with, evidently, and then again, “Fuck, fuck” Louis whines, tugging at his restraints with a pathetic and pleading pout. He licks his lips, nodding at the ring still painfully in Harry’s hand and not on Louis, blushing softly when he realizes his desperation. It doesn’t hold him back, though. “It’s not okay, no, because you’ve still got that bloody ring in your hand and not on me.”

The immediate wave of relief on Harry’s face appeases Louis. He cants his hips up, trying to remind Harry where the damn ring is supposed to go. Harry complies, fitting it around Louis’ cock, snug at the base. Louis feels helpless, tied up and unable to come, weakly pulling at the scarf in vain, whining more when Harry starts touching him. Every touch feels ignited by something primal to Louis, and he can’t help but squirm.

Harry kisses down his neck and chest, scraping his teeth across his skin as he goes, until he gets to one of Louis’ nipples. It sends Louis’ senses into overdrive when Harry wraps his lips around it, using the barest hint of teeth to tease it. Louis absolutely does not whine, he doesn’t.

Harry’s hands roam down further as he sucks and tongues at Louis’ nipple, running his hands down to Louis’ hips to press him down. Louis had no idea he was thrusting up blindly into Harry’s abdomen, and being pinned down by the hips makes it more glaringly obvious that he’s so fucking squirmy.

Everything that isn’t his cock is starting to get fuzzy to Louis, his sole focus on getting himself to come as soon as he can. “Harry, just do something already,” Louis says, turning his head to the side, half hiding behind his bicep. Every touch is maddeningly light over his cock, and it’s seriously driving up a wall. “Please,” he adds, quiet and a little bit broken.

Harry makes quick work of fingering Louis, fucking quickly with his fingers, jabbing his prostate on every other thrust, making Louis keen and hiccup with the feeling. He is in tears, gasping and shuddering because he just wants to fucking come. Fuck the damn cock ring and wanting to be experimental in the bedroom, Louis wants to come his brains out then fall asleep in Harry’s arms.

“Take it off, please,” Louis begs, writhing against his restraints and thrashing everywhere, overwhelmed with wanting to come and tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

“Never heard you say ‘please’ so often,” Harry muses, pulling his fingers out and lining himself up to Louis’ hole, fucked out and wet from the liberal amount of lube Harry used.

Harry slowly works his hips, grinding in Louis with shallow thrusts, building up a frenzy in Louis. Everything is moving slow, the air around them, the blood in his veins, Harry in him, and it’s stirring Louis faster, panting and keening, only to be stopped by the damn cock ring.

“God, you take it so well, babe,” Harry grunts, readjusting his grip on Louis’ waist so he can thrust faster, nailing it deep in Louis.

Louis can barely form coherent thoughts, much less actual sentences, and keens high in his throat as Harry pushes him closer to the edge. There’s a spring coiling tighter and tighter inside Louis, and he's dying to get a hand around himself, but he can't because of the scarf around his wrists and Harry isn't having any of it, keeping his hands planted by Louis' head for leverage to fuck harder.

"Please, wanna come, please, Harry, please," Louis babbles out, arching up into the solid muscle of Harry's abs, and almost whites out when his cock head smears against him, overwhelmed.

"Fuck, yeah, baby, gonna come for me," Harry grunts out, leaning on one hand to fumble around with the cock ring, pulling it off as efficiently as he can.

Louis is crying, tears slipping from his eyes, and the intensity that hits him when he comes has him almost blacking out, shivering through it. He tunes back in when Harry starts coming himself, digging his blunt fingernails into Louis' hips and stilling, cursing out obscenities before dropping down onto Louis.

"Shit," Harry curses, biting into Louis’ shoulder, making Louis keen, his cock giving another twitch. He stays there for a moment, letting himself feel Louis spasm around him, sporadically clenching and unclenching, until he’s completely soft, pulling out. “How are you, Lou?”

Louis takes a moment to figure out how to function again, mouth dry and swallowing. “That was intense.”

Harry smirks down at him. “I hope only in a good way?’

“The best way,” Louis breathes, still lax against his restraints.

Harry moves around Louis, up to the head board to undo the knots, easing the fabric away from Louis’ skin. Once his arms are free, he wraps them around Harry, koalaing his torso even though it’s not really the most comfortable cuddling position.

“Lou, get up,” Harry says, laughing when Louis makes himself smaller, wrapping tighter around him.

“You can't make me,” Louis mumbles.

“Okay, fine, we’ll go to sleep dirty,” Harry concedes, navigating them under the covers before wrapping his arms around Louis, cocooning him around Louis as if to keep him away from all the bad in the world.

Louis doesn’t want to be anywhere else.


He is starting to get insatiable with sex, demanding it from Harry whenever he wants, and it’s something he didn’t think would apply to him. That’s not to say that he and Harry didn’t have regular sex before they started this, whatever this is, but they didn’t have regular sex before. Half the time, they could barely manage half-awake handjobs, much less anything more. Now, there’s some sort of dam that’s been broken, and Louis can’t seem to get enough.

Which leads him to now. He’s been horny all day since Harry woke him up with a spectacular blowjob, or it would have been spectacular if Harry would have let him bloody come, and now he intends to do something about it.

They’re at a club, music pulsing in the air around them and sweaty bodies dancing, but Louis can’t think of anything past the fact that his dick is pressed tight in his jeggings and that he’s still a little riled up, so he grabs Harry’s hand and the leaves the scene of the club behind. Louis isn’t sure where he’s going, just that it’s in the opposite direction of everyone else and hopefully the far away from prying eyes.

“Louis, where are we going?” Harry says, tripping over his own two feet. Honestly. His boyfriend is a new born baby giraffe.

“Somewhere,” Louis answers, and something in his voice must make Harry shut up, because he doesn’t speak up again until Louis abruptly stops in the middle of the alleyway, Harry running into his back.

“What are you-” Harry asks, and that’s all he’s able to ask before Louis turns around and Harry gets cut off by Louis’ lips and feeling Louis’ hand wrap around his belt buckle. Harry stumbles backwards until his back hits the brick wall, bracing himself against the air cooled bricks, and Louis following, his chest pressed to tight to Harry’s, crushing their mouths together as he fiddles with Harry’s belt.

“I’m going to suck you off,” Louis slurs, his words mingling between kisses. He may or may not be drunk from a few shots at the bar.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Harry says back, half the enunciation lost in Louis’ mouth. Harry looks like he’s about to say more, and he probably is, until Louis gets Harry’s belt buckle undone and shove his hand down his pants, making Harry shudder.

Louis leans in close, fitting himself into Harry’s space, which leaves his mouth level with the junction of Harry’s neck and shoulder, beginning to suck light kisses into his skin. “Your cock says otherwise,” Louis murmurs before he drops to his knees, less than gracefully, but this is an alleyway; there’s no need for finesse.

He tugs down Harry’s pants and boxers all in one go down, just far enough for Harry’ cock to spring free, Harry hissing from the cold air outside. Louis lick his lips, tongue sneaking out to do so, before taking Harry’s cock into his mouth as deep as he can as fast as he can.

Big mistake. It’s been awhile since he’s deepthroated, and Harry is by no means small, and Louis ends up gagging and pulling up, coughing a bit. He tries again and settles for easing into it, wrapping his wet, red lips around the head, sucking gently. Harry’s hands are fisted in Louis’ hair, tugging whenever Louis dips his tongue into the slit, making Louis hum.

It’s thrilling, is what it is, the possibility of someone catching them, and it pushes Louis to go deeper, his brow furrowing as he concentrates on loosening his throat, taking Harry deeper.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Louis, I-” Harry says above him, gripping Louis’ hair with a vice now, unsure of whether to pull him off or force his head down. Louis hums around Harry's cock, making Harry moan out and bite his finger to keep his noise level down.

Louis concentrates on taking Hary further, splaying one hand across Harry’s hip and pushing him back against the brick wall so Harry doesn’t buck up. He has the image of Harry holding Louis’ head still and fucking his throat and has to palm himself to ebb his erection. They’ll have to try that another time.

Louis pulls back and swirls his tongue around the head before sinking back down in one fluid motion as far as he can, and Harry can barely get out a warning before he’s coming down Louis’ throat, Louis swallowing every bit he can.

Harry pulls him up right after he’s finished coming and crushes their mouths together, his tongue hitting Louis’ lips before his own do, licking at the seam, wrapping his arms around the narrowest part of Louis’ waist. Louis let’s him do as he pleases willingly, feeling pliant after giving Harry head, and Harry whines when he gets his tongue in Louis’ mouth. Louis doesn’t register why until Harry licks over his teeth, and it hits him that Harry is tasting himself from Louis.

Louis whimpers, partially from the realization of what Harry’s doing, but mostly from Harry relocating a hand from the small of Louis’ back to groping his dick over his pants. He's so lost in the feeling of Harry's tongue dragging across his mouth and hand squeezing the head firmly how he likes it, Louis doesn't realize he's being flipped around until his back his the brick wall, Harry holding his wrists tight above his head.

"You're a fucking nympho," Harry says, crushing the words into Louis' mouth, rubbing firmer, harder.

He’s about two strokes away from making a mess in his pants, having gotten so worked up from blowing Harry, but the pressure around him is gone, and he absolutely did not let out a whine at the loss. Harry makes up for it by turning him around and pressing him to the wall before promptly dropping to his knees himself.

Harry deftly unbuttons Louis' pants, pulling them over just enough so that the curve of Louis’ bum is out but dick still trapped underneath his briefs, and spreads his cheeks before delving his tongue in, teasing Louis’ open.

Curling his hand against the cold bricks, Louis lets the feel of Harry eating him wash over him, breath puffing out in short pants. “Could say the same about you, babe,” Louis says, swallowing the rush of saliva in his mouth. Harry hums an acknowledgement, too busy licking broad firm strips over Louis’ hole to say anything more.

Harry’s relentless, nipping Louis rim with his teeth before laving over it with his tongue, driving Louis up the wall - quite literally. He sneaks his hand around to Louis’ front, palming over his cock head, Louis’ arousal growing at an exponential rate.

All it takes for Louis to come is Harry widening his jaw and wiggling his tongue inside further and pressing down on the tent in his trousers, and Louis is coming, not even five minutes after Harry started eating his arse.

Harry gives a sweet, open-mouthed kiss to Louis’ hole before standing up, pulling up Louis’ trousers over his bum and turning Louis around in his arms, caged between his body and the wall.

“No fair,” Louis whines, settling his hands on the jut of Harry’s hips, “You don’t have dirty trousers, but I do. I have to sit with my own come smeared on me when you’re sucked clean.”

“Yes fair, because this was sprung on me,” Harry fires back, “who the heck wants to do it in an alleyway that smells like piss?”

Louis shrugs. “Thought it’d be hot, and I was right.”

“Whatever, you nympho, we’re going home,” Harry says, dragging Louis by the hand back to the valet to get their car.

The ride home is filled with lots of side glances, eyes twinkling, their hands intertwined over the center console, Harry’s thumb rubbing circles into Louis’ skin.


Louis decided to bring them on the trip Harry insisted they take to Japan, just as an "impromptu trip for a change in scenery." They both love the country and everything about the culture, the best part being the people seem to have a sense of privacy and not mob them everywhere they go. Or, well, not mob them as much; they're level of fame has always been insane, and there's no escaping it. The hiatus has helped, but again: insane.

He won’t admit it, but he's been toying with the idea ever since Harry made that comment about everything being a surprise, and he's always on the receiving end of the "surprising" that he decided to do this. Now if he can actually follow through with his plan, that would help.

He’s seriously overreacting. He’s standing naked in the bedroom, holding them up to his face and staring at them intently. It’s technically just a piece of cloth, all he has to do is slip his legs into the leg holes and then he’s wearing them.

God, I’m being such a ninny, Louis thinks to himself, and, as quickly as he can, slips his legs through the leg holes and pulls them up.

He walks over to the mirror to see how he looks, trying to suppress the shiver that runs through him as he feels the fabric shift as he moves. His dick isn’t sitting quite right under the satin, so he fiddles around and adjusts himself, letting out a tiny whimper because it feels so good. His breath rushes out of him when he catches sight of himself.

His curves are accented beautifully by the panties, highlighting his natural curves at the same time softening, and the way the satin stretches over the bulge of his cock is more than a little bit obscene. He slowly turns around, looking over his shoulder to still see himself in the mirror. While the front is made of a sheer satin material, the back is fully lace, but it might as well not had a back all together, since so much of his bum hanging out.

Keeping his eyes on himself in the mirror, he grabs his bum and lifts his cheeks up before letting them drop, watching the flesh jiggle. He does it again, then playfully spanks himself, mesmerized by how it moves, starting to understand Harry’s fascination with his bum.

Touching himself is starting to turn him on, and he’s got to stop, otherwise he’s going to get off before Harry even gets back to the room from doing whatever.

Louis slips back on his sweats he discarded earlier, the panties shifting underneath, feeling wrongly erotic. It feels a bit like cheating, not telling Harry what he’s got on underneath, but the zip of heat that travels down his spine when he feels the fabric shift convinces him otherwise. Hopefully Harry will like them as much as he does.

Harry slams into the hotel suite that instant, the door rebounding off the wall and probably leaving a dent. “We’re going out,” Harry says, storming in and grabbing his hand, dragging him out the door before Louis is able to say anything.

"Harry, at least let me change!" Louis half yells, stumbling over his feet from Harry pulling him along. Curse Harry's genetics for giving him stilts for legs.

Harry pulls him along faster. "It's not necessary."

"Can you at least tell me where in the bloody world we're going?" Louis yells, flailing his other arm.

"No can do."

Louis digs his heel into the floor, stopping him and Harry in the middle of the hallway corridor. He doesn't talk until Harry turns around to face him.

"I am not going out like this when you're dressed like that." Sue him, he's vain, but Harry is dressed to the nines, with his silk shirt half open and skin tight trousers, everything topped off with one of of he headscarves he hasn't worn in years holding back all of his hair, ringlets peaking out and cascading down and framing his face beautifully. Louis looks like a hobo that needed a shower three days ago.

Harry closes the distance, cupping Louis face with warm palms and giving Louis a lingering kiss, Louis rising up on his toes and his arms drifting up to hold onto Harry's forearms. Louis' eyelashes flutter open like broken butterfly wings when Harry pulls back slightly, both their mouths slightly agape and puffing out warm breath.

"We're not going out," Harry says, sliding his hands down Louis' arms until they're holding hands. "Trust me?"

Louis deflates, his shoulders relaxing and leaning into Harry’s weight. “You know I do.”

“Good, then let’s go,” Harry grins, turning back around and pulling Louis along.

His heart is beating fast, a steady thump in his chest because he has no idea where Harry is taking him. And also a little part of him is affected with what he has on underneath.

It’ll just have to wait.


Five doors, three hallways turns, two because Harry doesn’t know the way to wherever he’s taking Louis, and one elevator ride later, they end up in front of what looks like an emergency exit door. Louis is absolutely baffled why they're there.

"Go on, babe," Harry says, gesturing to the door, smiling soft and genuine.

"Oh-kay?" Louis says, skepticism evident. Nevertheless, he pushes the door open, and he's waiting for the hotel alarm to go off. It is an emergency exit, after all.

He doesn’t expect what he sees. The door leads to the rooftop garden, wind softly blowing, rustling the leaves. There’s a table with the silverware set, candles lit, glowing brighter as the sun goes down. Yet with everything set up so beautifully, Louis’ eyes fall on the bed in the center of everything, a bottle of lube placed over the pillows. “Harry, what’s all this?”

Harry steps up behind him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ middle and resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder. “Like it?” He murmurs right against Louis’ ear, punctuating his question by sucking the lobe of Louis’ ear into his mouth.

Louis pointedly does not shudder, squirming in Harry’s hold. “Take me to bed.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums, moving from Louis’ earlobe to the skin of his neck right underneath, and Louis’ tips his head to the side so Harry has more room to work with. “Dinner first,” Harry says, scraping his teeth along the love bite before pulling away.

Louis turns around in Harry’s arms. “But there’s a bed and I want you now.”

“Nope, not doing it Louis,” Harry says, backing up a step to put some, in Louis’ opinion, unnecessary space in between them. “I have to properly woo you.”

Louis closes the space between them with a step, curling himself around Harry and fitting into his space. “No you don’t, just fuck me in this rooftop garden on that bed,” Louis throws back a hand, pointing to the bed for emphasis. “That’s plenty of wooing right there.”

Harry looks pained. "Louis don't do this, I have something I gotta tell you."

"I promise it can wait," Louis says, and with that, and pulls Harry forward toward the bed.

At the last second, Louis switches their positions so he falls back, Harry following on top of him, and kisses Harry like it's the solution to world peace.

“Louis would you please -” Harry says, but he’s cut off by Louis’ mouth insistent against his own.

“It can wait,” Louis murmurs against Harry’s lips.

Louis stops only when he feels Harry’s palm against his chest, gently push him away. “This is important,” Harry says, but his own eyes betray him as they flicker down to Louis’ lips, looking wet and fairly bruised from a little kissing.

Louis licks his lips and watches Harry track the movement. “Are you going to tell me you’re dying?” Louis asks.

"No, but-" Harry tries again, but Louis clambers closer to Harry in his lap, slowly and firmly grinding down onto Harry's crotch.

"Then it can wait," Louis says, winding his hands around Harry's neck and mouthing at the skin below his ear. Harry's screws his eyes shut as his hands lift up from where he was leaning back on them to Louis' waist, his fingers teasing the hem of Louis' shirt.

Louis unwinds one of his own arms from where it is around Harry's neck to grasp one of Harry's hands, guiding it under his joggers and down the curve of his arse. "Seriously, Louis, I-" Harry starts, but he falters has his hand travels farther down Louis’ arse.

“Now what was it you need to tell me?” Louis asks, speaking right into Harry’s skin, and he can hear the smug in his own voice. He can feel Harry toying with the lace, running soft fingers over the fabric.

”Louis,” Harry says, voice wound tight like a spring. "What is this? Is it for me?"

It seems Louis still has a bit of his pride left in him to flush, lips hovering over Harry's skin from where he was mouthing at it moments ago. "I- Yeah, it is."

Harry's other hand reaches back and slides underneath the waistband of Louis’ joggers to meet his other, both hands now firmly kneading the flesh of Louis’ arse over the panties.

Louis flexes his hands against Harry’s shirt, knotting the fabric between the pads of his fingers and his palms before pushing Harry back and away from him, his hands slipping off Louis’ arse. “Everything off, right now.”

They make quick work of undressing, stealing rough kisses in between that causes their teeth the clack, and soon before they know it, they're naked saved for Louis and the panties, and Harry topples them down so Louis is caged underneath him.

"Do something," Louis says, scratching all along Harry's back, eliciting a long drawn-out moan from him as Harry closes his eyes. Once he opens them, Harry's eyes are dark and blown-out, and he leans on one hand so the other can trail down Louis' body.

"What do you want me to do?" Harry asks, running his hands feather light over Louis' cock trapped behind satin, barely squeezing the head. "You have to tell me, otherwise how can I do it?"

Cheeky bastard. Louis is going to punch him in the jaw if he doesn't die from this. "Fuck me," he breathes out, throwing his forearms over his eyes, letting himself feel. "Just fuck me already."

Harry hums. "Okay," he says, and Louis could almost cry with relief. "Flip over."

Louis flips over so he's on his stomach, drawing his knees up to arch his back, practically presenting himself to Harry for him to take. He feels a pair of hands rest on the curve of his are, toying with the edges of the lace. "Harry, just bloody fuck me already."

Harry starts massaging his cheeks, kneading them with the flat of his hands and pulling his cheeks apart so he can press a finger against Louis' hole before straying away. "Not yet," Harry croons, and Louis feels the bed behind him shift.

Louis doesn't know what to expect, but he doesn't think Harry would say the words he does. "Hands behind your back."

What? "What?" Louis echoes the thought in his head, looking over his shoulder so he can see Harry.

What a mistake. He sees Harry holding the headscarf that was holding his hair up earlier, gaze clouded with lust. “Please?” Harry says, lifting the scarf a little bit higher.

Louis’ tongue feels thick in his mouth, swallowing past the rush of saliva. “I. You. Yeah, Okay,” Louis says, stuttering the words out of himself. He lowers himself to his forearms, then his chest, until he’s leaning all of his weight on his face so he can lift his arms and cross them behind his back. Harry binds his arms quickly, and it isn’t until after he’s settled that Louis notices what happens, him arching his back and pushing his ass higher in the air, presenting his arse for Harry to take, and pointedly wills the flush away.

It takes Louis a few lungfuls of air to speak up again. “Fuck me,” he says, half muffled by the duvet underneath him. “Please,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Maybe,” Harry lilts, lightly spanking Louis to watch the flesh of his arse jiggle, earning him a quick exhale from Louis. Louis feels the bed shift, and then warm breath washing over his skin. "Or I could eat you instead."

There's no way Louis would've been able to get a word out before Harry started eating him out, not with the sensation of Harry licking across his hole over the lace. Louis has to stuff his face into the duvet, arching his back so he can press further into Harry's mouth, feeling dirty at the feel of wet lace being pushed into him, fucking in and out.

Louis goes completely boneless, melting into the sheets, the feel of getting eaten washing over him, and everything is muted, like he's far away. He doesn't register Harry pulling back and moving the lace to the side, doesn't register when Harry slicks up his hand, entering a finger, doesn't register when one becomes two, when two becomes three, doesn't register anything at all until Harry is pulling his fingers out and slicking up his cock, then holds Louis' hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock inside into Louis' hole, entering slowly, inch by inch.

"Always take it so well, angel," Harry says when he's fully inside, waiting so Louis can get adjusted.

Louis doesn’t want any of that. The stretch is full, it always is, and he's lying if he says he's not a size queen. “God, move already.”

Harry delivers, fucking fast right from the beginning, none of the slow testing strokes, one hand still gripping Louis' hip, the other pressing him down between the shoulder blades. He lets himself be forced down, arching further and tasting linen, getting riled up to the point of not caring or keeping track of how loud he is, wailing into the sheets and thrashing about.

Louis' cock is weeping and blood heavy in the confines of the satin, smearing precome along the inside and turning the fabric translucent, rubbing him exactly how he likes it. He's crying, whimpering and staining the duvet with tears as Harry drives into him harder, clenching up tight around him as he fucks back as best he can.

He comes without warning, euphoria slamming into him like a freight train, gasping and wailing into the sheets as he arches back further, spurting all over the inside of his panties. It doesn't seem to stop, Harry fucking him through his orgasm, and his head is floaty when he finally goes lax, slumping down into the sheets.

“Love it when you come from nothing but my cock,” Harry says, fucking faster, sweat making his grip on Louis’ hip slipperier, gripping harder, “Love that you can’t help how I make you feel.”

Louis’ cock gives a feeble twitch at Harry’s words, blurting out a drop more of come, starting to get sensitive. It shouldn’t be getting to him that he’s getting it so rough to the point of feeling used, but his own cock is a traitor and thinks otherwise. He clenches, hard and tight, and moans out, and that’s all it takes for Harry to come, wetting Louis’ hole further, dirtying him on the inside.

Harry slowly pulls out once he catches his breath, Louis’ wincing at the withdrawal. Louis is too tired to move, his own come drying and Harry’s leaking out of his bum, letting Harry manhandle him into their sleeping position wrapped around each other, and dozing off when Harry pulls the covers over their shoulders.

He’s definitely going to feel tonight in the morning.


The first thing that Louis notices when he wakes up is that it’s early and the sun isn’t out yet. The second thing is that they’re still outside on the rooftop. The third is that Harry is awake and playing with his hair.

“Morning, Boobear,” Harry says, gentle smile playing at his lips.

Louis groans and stuffs his face further into Harry’s chest. “I thought you said you would stop using that name.”

Harry hums, fingers still carding through Louis’ hair. “I love you, you know.”

“I am quite aware,” Louis says, trying to wiggle his feet in between Harry’s calves. What. His feet get cold easily.

“I would do anything for you,” Harry muses, smile seeping through his voice.

“Harry Edward Styles, shut up,” Louis groans, trying to cocoon further into Harry’s warmth. “It’s five bloody am, and the sun isn’t even up yet.”

Harry moves to kiss the top of his hair. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You’ve been saying that since you were sixteen, trust me, I am very aware,” Louis snips. “Stop talking, I want to sleep more.”

“I just want to say -”

“Why on Earth do you keep talking,” Louis says, cutting him off and sitting up, all pointy elbows and uncoordinated limbs, gesticulating wildly. “I mean, seriously you do talk a lot of shit, did you know that I-” He stops short when a metallic glint on his hand catches his eye. Louis frowns and brings his hand to his face to get a closer look.

It’s a ring. There's a fucking ring is on his finger. Nothing flashy, just a simple silver band with yesterday's date engraved over the top, but still. 28 September. Louis' jaw drops and gasps, kicking himself over how fucking dumb he is. When Louis looks up from his hand, Harry has a shy smile on his face, blush coloring his cheeks.

Louis can’t speak. Of course, the only appropriate response is to hit Harry as hard as he can.

“Hey!” Harry protests, holding his bicep where it’s starting to slightly turn pink.

“You fucking bastard,” Louis spits, pushing Harry flat on his back and scrambling to sit on Harry’s torso so he can repeatedly hit Harry’s chest over and over. “What the fuck is this, you actual fucking bastard.”

"You didn't leave me any other choice!" Harry says, trying to catch Louis hands so he'll stop hitting him.

"What the fuck do you mean I didn't leave you any other choice?" Louis yells, aiming for a slap in the face. “This is not how you bloody propose to someone!”

Harry catches both hands and puts them in one, pulling Louis down so their face are more or less just some centimeters apart.

"It's just," Harry begins, exasperation filling his voice, "You’re so bloody horny all the time, and I’ve been trying to propose to you properly, even before yesterday, but every time, you just rip my clothes off!” Harry flops backwards, letting go of Louis’ hands and splays them to the side.

“You’re guilty, too, you know,” Louis says, poking Harry hard in the cheek. “Just yesterday you were all tell-me-what-you-want-me-to-do and tied me up with your scarf and rimmed me over the bloody panties before fucking me into the mattress."

Harry’s face is sly and wicked. “Loved it though, didn’t you?”

Louis willfully doesn’t blush. “That’s not the point,” he snaps, trying to nail another slap to Harry’s face, trying to stop Harry from seeing just how affected he is right now.

“Just listen to me,” Harry says, grabbing both of Louis’ hands a looks him straight in the eye when he speaks again. “We could have the most boring sex on the planet, or even no sex whatsoever, and I would still love you unconditionally, more than anything else on this good green earth, and -” Harry stops himself short. "Are you crying?"

No, Louis absolutely is definitely not crying, but Harry still brushes his thumb under his eye.

“Don’t cry,” Harry says, voice softer than the morning light that’s starting to filter over the horizon, painting the sky pinks and purples. “Baby, please don’t cry.”

“‘M not crying, you big asswipe,” Louis says, furiously scrubbing at his eyes. “Just a piece of dust is all.”

Harry speaks up before Louis hits him again.“I love you, you know.”

All of the fight deflates out of Louis. “I know you do, and I love you too,” Louis says, “more than anything in the world."

“So will you do the honor of marrying me?” Harry asks, and his voice is so sincere and eyes so wide and Louis can’t help himself. Harry tastes like everything warm and good in the world, and Louis can’t seem to get enough.

They keep kissing, soft lips and tender touches, and Harry grips his hips gently, fingers flexing against his hips, unsure if to hold Louis close or caress every inch of Louis’ body.

Louis can feel Harry thickening under him where he’s seated on Harry’s hips, and grinds back a little. “Gonna tie the knot now?” he murmurs, turning the kiss hotter, steamier, grazing his teeth along Harry’s lower lip.

“You know it, baby,” Harry returns, running his hands all over Louis' back, lightly scraping his nails down.

Louis sits up so he’s planted right over Harry’s cock, just so it starts to fatten up between his cheeks, and throws his arms out to the side. “Take your best shot,” he says, “I’m all yours, after all.”

Harry doesn’t respond, just smiles and reaches to the side to grab the discarded lube from yesterday, Louis tracking each movement he makes. He’s about to have just-got-engaged sex, and he’s hit with a sudden surge of nerves for some unfathomable reason.

Louis watches Harry sit up so he can slick his fingers up one by one through hooded eyes, before he sneaks his hand between Louis thighs and presses a digit to Louis hole, slipping it in unhurriedly. It feels reverent, the way Harry touches him, the way other people would normally handle fine china, with the utmost amount of care possible.

“‘M not porcelain, Harry. You can go harder,” Louis says, rolling his hips back against Harry’s fingers, trailing his own hands over his chest and tweaking his nipples and lulling his head to the side, “I know you can go harder.”

Harry uses his other hand to grab Louis under the arse, hauling him closer and pressing their chests together, heat bleeding in between them. "Nope, we're going slow today," Harry murmurs, looking up under his eyelashes to Louis' face and curling his fingers oh so slowly against Louis' prostate, heat blooming inside Louis.

It feels too good to stay still, and he starts rocking his hips back against Harry's hand, gasping, making more noise intentionally. He knows Harry's got some sort of thing for how loud Louis gets, and he's going to damn well use it to his advantage. "I want you in me," he whines, panting into Harry's mouth without their mouths ever connecting, "it's enough, just get in me."

Louis has always been great at getting what he wants, and Harry has always been weak with Louis, succumbing to cater to his whims, and this isn't any different. Harry pulls his hand out, and Louis lifts himself up, one hand on Harry's shoulder, the other gripping Harry's cock underneath him to guide it in.

“Wait,” Harry says, gripping Louis’ waist and rolling them over so he’s nestled between Louis thighs. “Much better.” Harry leans down to pepper kisses all over Louis’ face, and Louis feels needy all of a sudden, this urge to want to be small and taken care of, and he knows Harry is going to do just that.

Louis is only a little embarrassed from the sound he makes. ”Harry.”

“Gonna fuck you wearing nothing but your ring,” Harry says, dipping down to mouth at Louis’ neck, pressing the head of his cock against Louis’ hole and starting to push in.

It’s just so dirty, the way Harry says it, that it has Louis crying out and arching up into Harry’s touch, craving any sort of skin to skin contact. Harry isn’t large, nothing to where he would break Louis from having sex, but he definitely isn’t small, and with Harry going as slow as he is, Louis can feel everything from the smooth drag in him to the heat seeping from Harry’s body.

Harry’s thrusts are firm and slow and paced, hitting that spot that has Louis keening high in his throat every time straight from the beginning. He doesn’t speed up like he’s been doing, instead opting to keep the pace the same and driving Louis to the edge ever so slowly.

“God, I’m going to marry you,” Louis says, winding his arms around Harry’s neck and arching up so their chests press close. “We’re going to get married.”

“Fuck,” Harry cursed, dropping his head onto Louis’ shoulder and speeds up ever so slightly. “Proper bound to me, Tomlinson.”

“Bound to each other, Styles,” Louis says, whining when he feels Harry sucking at his neck, no doubt leaving love bites littered across his skin. “You’re just as much mine as I am yours. Don’t forget that.” He’s proud that his voice doesn’t warble like how his insides feel.

Louis can feel Harry smile against his skin. “You won’t let me forget that.”

“Damn straight,” Louis grips the soft hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck and lifts his head up. Harry obliges with an unsatisfied whine.

Louis’ breath catches when he sees Harry’s face; it’s just so stunning. Ever since X Factor, before they got together, Louis' breath has always felt like it was stolen right out of him when he looks as Harry. Over the years he's slowly gotten used to it, but now, staring clearly and unabashedly into Harry’s eyes, he feels eighteen again, this moment akin to when Harry first looked at him when he bloody peed on him. Louis takes a moment to collect himself. “I love you,” he says. “God, I really fucking love you.”

Harry doesn’t answer, only tips his head forward to sear their lips together, picking back up the pace of his hips. Louis cries out, a shocked high noise escaping from his throat, but it’s lost somewhere between their mouths.

Louis winds his arms tightly around Harry's neck, wrapping his legs around Harry's hips and arching up so their bodies are pressed flushed from chest to hips, grinding up into Harry's abs to get some sort of friction on his cock.

They both come between one breath and the next, both of them slowly being pulled under the crest instead of the usual tidal wave that slams into them. Harry rolls them over so Louis is laying his head on Harry's chest, cock slipping out of Louis. Air slowly fills back their lungs, until they can properly breath again, and Louis let’s out a laugh, light and airy.

“What is it?” Harry asks, smiling into Louis' skin. The sun is slowly starting to get higher in sky, and they're going to have to get back inside soon, but Louis feels like he could stay here for the rest of his life.

"Nothing," Louis answers, wrapping his limbs around Harry like a koala, snuggling further into Harry's warmth. "Everything is perfect, just the way it is."

"Yeah, perfect," Harry laughs, kissing the top of Louis' hair. "Hey Lou?"


"What's a three letter word for 'perfect?'"

"I dunno, but I bet you're gonna tell me."

"It's you," Harry says, smiling, "or Lou. Either works, really."

Louis groans. His boyfriend is an idiot.

Fiancé, Louis thinks, correcting himself. He's my fiancé now.

It's a thought he thinks he can get used to.