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A Waltz For A Night

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The club is loud and busy and Louis is jetlagged and wasted and holding off exhaustion by virtue of alcohol alone.

"You're wasted," someone says, propping themselves up on the bar next to him, bumping their elbow into his.

"I am," Louis agrees, leaning over to try and get the attention of the barman. He moves his head and it takes a moment for his vision to catch up with where his head is. "Oh, it's you."

"Hello to you too, Louis Tomlinson," Nick Grimshaw says, grinning. "Welcome back to the UK, Louis Tomlinson. Long time, no see, Grimmy, nice to see you."

Louis narrows his eyes. "Is that what you think is going to happen?"

"Worth a punt," Nick says. "Thought it might be time for a change of heart."

"Nah," Louis says, wrinkling his nose. There's something about the way Nick's smile makes his eyes go all crinkly—it makes Louis's insides curl up. It always has. Louis refuses to acknowledge it, and instead pokes Nick in the side. "I like it better like this."

Nick rolls his eyes, holding a twenty quid note up for the barman. "Let me get you a drink."

"All right," Louis says, and he folds his arms on the bar. It'll make them all sticky from spilled drinks and other people's sweat, but having said that, Louis hasn't been home in four months and there's a good chance he's been filthy for ages. One more night isn't going to change any of that. "I'll have a JD and Coke. Make it a double."

"You'll be on the floor," Nick says, but he orders one for both of them anyway.

Louis can't resist a challenge. "Better make it a triple," he tells the barman. "See who's on the floor first."

He doesn't bother waiting to drink it with Nick, heading off for the dance floor instead.


He spends the night dancing with one person after another, grinding back against a guy in tight jeans and dancing with a girl in a skirt so short she can't possibly bend over. He's drunk and buzzing and knackered and he can't fucking bear the idea of going home and having it be over.

He'll dance all night if he has to, one drink after another until the end of time.

Every time he looks around, he sees Nick. He's tall and towers over his friends; there's no other reason that Louis can pick him out of a line up over everyone else in the room.

No reason at all.


The party is at Liam's, and Nick rocks up with Harry.

"Didn't know you were invited," Louis says, spreading his legs a bit so that it's perfectly clear the sofa is all taken. He's got a mojito in one hand and a cigarette in the other—unlit, because he's not a total dick, but there's a queue for the balcony and there's important sofa hogging to do.

"I wasn't," Nick says, staring pointedly at Louis's crotch, legs spread wide.

Louis doesn't flush. "So, what're you doing here, then?"

"Harry said it'd be okay. Are you going to let me sit down, or what?"

"Nah," Louis says, and he angles his head to look around Nick to where one of Sophia's mates is wandering by with a drink. "Hey, Lisa. Come and sit down."

Nick rolls his eyes and heads for the bar. "You owe me a drink," he says, bumping his hand into Louis's shoulder as he walks by. "Don't think I'll forget."

"I wouldn't," Louis says, as Lisa sits down and he smiles at her. If he acts like Nick's forgotten, then maybe he will be.


He goes for his cigarette later on, stepping out onto the balcony with his hands cupped, his mostly-dead lighter not fucking catching. There's someone else out here though, right in the corner, leaning over the balcony with a cigarette in hand. "Got a match?"

Nick looks around. "Yeah," he says. "My arse and your face."

"Nice," Louis says, but he leans over the railings anyway.

Nick flicks at his lighter so that the flame burns up. Louis ducks in to light his cigarette. The end glows red. It's dark outside, the balcony big enough that the light from inside doesn't penetrate the edges of the terrace.

Louis doesn't move away, his arm pressed up against Nick's. He's close enough to breathe Nick in, to recognise his aftershave as Harry's. The shirt too. "Did you come from Harry's?"

"Yeah," Nick says.

"He's going back to LA."

"Yeah," Nick says again. He stays where he is. His cigarette's almost done. Neither of them say anything, and Nick's cigarette burns down to the tip. He stubs it out on the railing, dropping it down onto the floor.

"Polite," Louis says, but he's pressed up against Nick from shoulder to wrist. He takes a drag.

"I'm learning from the best," Nick says. He pauses. "Do you ever think about—"

"No," Louis says immediately.

Nick doesn't say anything to that. He flicks his finger against the metal railing. "I do," he says finally.

It had been one time. One night, almost a year ago, Nick coming back to Louis's house after the BBC Music Awards. He'd pressed Louis up against the wall and rubbed Louis off without even taking down his trousers, Louis's head tipped back as Nick mouthed at his throat. Louis had come in his pants.

They'd been disturbed, Louis's phone going off, and Nick hadn't stayed when it became very clear that the arrival of all of Louis's family was imminent, and they hadn't spoken of it since. Nothing but a sad emoji when the news about Zayn leaving had been made public. Nothing since.

"It was five minutes," Louis says. "Not even worth thinking about."

"I think about it a lot," Nick says. "My hand on your dick."

"God," Louis says. He takes another drag. He's getting hard.

Nick's close enough that his breath is warm against Louis's cheek. Louis turns a little to the side. Nick's mouth is just there.

His gaze drops to Nick's mouth and then back up again. The music from inside throbs beneath his skin.


"Tommo," Nick says softly, and Louis kisses him, his mouth pressed to Nick's, Nick tasting like smoke and rum and coconut.

Nick never calls him Tommo; it shouldn't sound so intimate, so private, so hot. It shouldn't sound like anything, coming from Nick's mouth, but it does, and Louis can't help but react to it.

They stay just where they are, pressed up next to each other in the corner of the balcony, sheltered a little from the cold. Louis licks into Nick's mouth, and Nick's leg twitches, his knee bumping into Louis's.

"You never even touched me," Nick says, his teeth nipping at Louis's bottom lip. "Before. We stopped before you even touched me."

"Who said I would have?"

"Dunno," Nick says. "Fair, innit?"

"No one said I was fair."

Nick laughs at that. He reaches up and cups Louis's face, and Louis refuses to give into it, refuses to tremble. He takes a last drag of his cigarette, eyes still on Nick, and then drops it onto the ground to stub it out.

"I keep thinking about your dick," Nick says, still quiet, still close, still touching Louis' face. "Keep thinking about my hand on it."

Louis's hard. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Nick says, glancing down. It's too dark to see anything, but he shifts anyway, his hand stilling, an okay? that Louis shouldn't nod in response to, but he does anyway. Nick slides his hand down, cupping his hand over Louis's dick, and Louis's breath catches and his hips rock up. "Keep thinking about how it's hardly there."

Louis trembles with it, stilling, but Nick keeps touching him. Louis's dick is small, all right, it's small and Louis knows it and that's why he doesn't go to bed with anyone, and it's why he'll take coming in his pants and being fucking good at blow jobs over ever sharing himself naked, but he doesn't fucking talk about it. He never fucking talks about it. He'd hoped Nick hadn't had the chance to notice. "Nick—"

There's a whole flat full of people just a few feet away, but Nick kisses his cheek, leaning in to touch his mouth to Louis's ear. "I've got, like, a million questions," he says, tongue darting out. Louis shivers.

"Questions about my dick?" Louis tries for bravado. He's pretty good at it. He's even pretty good at it when Nick's touching him, his hand cupping Louis's dick, because Louis has always been good at being all right on the outside.

God, he shouldn't be hard. He shouldn't be fucking hard when they're talking about how small his dick is.

"Questions about everything," Nick says. "Questions about when you're going to buy me a drink."

"Never," Louis says, because he's hard—for a definition of hard that doesn't include particularly tenting out his jeans—and because Nick's groping him, and not stopping just because Louis's barely there.

"Questions about when you're going to kiss me," Nick goes on.

Louis tries to roll his eyes but his breath catches in his throat; he hides his embarrassment by closing the distance between the two of them and kissing him again. He rocks his hips up into Nick's hand, even though he knows how desperate it makes him look, even though letting on to Nick is the worst, it's the worst.

Someone pushes open the door to the balcony. There's only so far they can spring apart when they're wedged into the corner and Louis is desperately hard and the two of them are clearly kissing.

"Christ, sorry," someone says, and then the door's shut again and they're alone on the balcony.

Louis closes his eyes.

"Well," Nick says. "You nearly gave the whole party a bit of an eyeful." He glances down. "Or not. You could probably walk through the whole place and no one would even know you were hard."

"Shut up," Louis says weakly, except it's sort of quite true, and pretending it's a hundred per cent true is only making him harder. "Shut up."


"Fuck." Louis drives the heels of his hands into his eyes. His breath catches. He gives it a whole two seconds before he's reaching for Nick with both hands, pulling him in, hands fisting in his shirt. "God, shut up."

"Make me," Nick says, but then he's covering Louis's mouth with his own, and Louis's kissing him back, going up on his toes so that Nick can slide his hands into Louis's hair and keep him there. He rolls his hips up and, fuck, there's Nick's dick, and it's proper sized and everything, not little like Louis's.

Louis gasps out a breath even as Nick's shifting their position, walking Louis back until he hits the wall, the brick rough even through his shirt.

"I've been thinking about your dick for months," Nick tells him, teeth nipping at Louis's jaw. "Wanting to see how small you are. You should tell me."

"Small," Louis says, breathless. Everyone's inside. Anyone could come out. Someone did, and they haven't stopped. They're still going. He's sure he's bright red.

"You ever fuck anyone?" Nick asks, his hand going down to cup Louis's dick again. "Could you, even? Is that how small you are?"

"I don't know if I could," Louis says. "I don't know, all right."

"Christ," Nick says, and he sounds taken aback. "You really haven't?"

"Been laughed at one too many times." Louis can't meet Nick's gaze. His hand fists in his shirt. "Not the good kind, either. The other kind."

Nick doesn't say anything for a moment. "I wanted you to want the good kind," he says finally. "I wanted to be right."

Louis drops his gaze even further. His trainers are scruffier than Nick's boots; even in the dark he can tell that. "I'm hard, aren't I?" He's not saying Nick's right. That bit might push him over the edge.

"Yes," Nick says. "You are."

"I'm still not buying you a drink."

Nick kisses his jaw. He rests there for a moment. "Tell me to stop," he whispers, and Louis tips his head back against the wall.

His heart pounds.

"I'm too small to fuck," Louis says finally, because he wants this, and because Harry trusts Nick, and Louis trusts Harry, and because Nick could already see inside of him even without Louis saying that this was what he wanted. "My dick's too small to fuck anyone. No one would feel a thing."

"What about if I wrapped my fist around it? That little thing? Would it even peek out?"

Louis shakes his head. He's burning red. He's so hard he could probably come like this. "No."

Nick nudges Louis's legs apart, and shoves his knee in between his legs. "You want to come?"


"You lying?"

Louis isn't compelled to tell the truth. He could stop this right this second, push Nick away and go back to the party and feign being totally wasted and—if required—admit to having drunkenly got off with Nick on Liam's balcony, ha ha, but something hot and heavy burns beneath his skin and he needs it, he needs it like he's never needed it before, and it's being offered on a plate even though he doesn't know what he's asking for or even being given.

"Yes," he says finally. "I'm lying."

"You want to come, you can," Nick says. "Rub yourself off against my thigh. If you're that desperate." His hands are on Louis's shoulders, pressing him back, and Louis is pretty sure he should be feeling caged in and desperate but he isn't, he's not, it's just like he's okay. This is okay.


"I'll take you home after. I'll take your clothes off and see your dick, and how small you are, and how desperate you are for this. Cos I know how desperate you are, Lou. You think I don't watch you? All those girls and boys you dance around? The ones you desperately want to show your dick to?"

Louis's rubbing himself off against Nick's thigh, and he's breathless and panting and desperate and this should be awful, it should be terrible, but it isn't. He needs it and he wants it and he'll figure out what the fuck all of this means later, because he's doing this now. He's fucking doing this now and he'll ignore Nick for the rest of forever after this, and fuck everything else, if he just gets to have this, right now, the way he wants it. "They'd laugh," he says, breathless. "They'd laugh at me."

"Yeah," Nick says. "Cos it's pretty pathetic, right? Little dick like yours. Pretty much useless and yet you're still trying to slag around, aren't you? You're so desperate for it, Louis. Any of those girls and boys. They'd see you and they'd all know your dick was pretty much useless."

He's going to come and he doesn't even fucking know why. He's rubbing himself off against Nick's thigh, dick leaking through his pants, his jeans feeling wet with it. He's clinging onto Nick, breathlessly panting, and Nick's holding him up, pressing him back against the wall, giving him something to rut up against, and Louis is losing it. He's fucking going to lose it on Liam's balcony, and come in his jeans because Nick Grimshaw told him to, and he wants it. He wants it.

"You're so small, Louis. You think I'm the only person who notices? I'm not. It's just a stupid little dick you can't even put anywhere. You probably can't even jerk off, it's so fucking little."

Louis comes with a strangled cry, panting out a sob, tipping forward so that his forehead is pressed to Nick's chest and he can't even fucking breathe.

He's come in his jeans.

"God," Nick manages, and he sounds a bit of a wreck too, even though he's not the one who's just made a mess of themselves at a party. He's not the one who's just humiliated themselves.

Louis chokes on a sob, and Nick bundles him up, wrapping him up into a hug, arms around his shoulders, mouth pressed to Louis's hair.

"God, Louis," Nick says again, muffled this time because his words are lost in Louis's hair. "Fuck, you're so good. You're so good."

It pounds mercilessly against his skin, the compliment he didn't ask for, the one he doesn't know what to do with. It batters him as he tries to breathe through it, arms shaking as he burrows himself into Nick's chest. It seeps inside of him as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to lock down his embarrassment so that it stays the good kind and doesn't shift towards the bad.

"You're so fucking good," Nick says again, softer this time.

"Don't let me go home alone," Louis says, and he doesn't care if it sounds like he's begging. He's wrecked and fucked up, and the only thing holding him together is the fact that someone else seems like they might understand, that someone else took him apart and might be able to put him back together again. "Please."

"Promise," Nick says, and if he sounds kind of wrecked too, then that's probably scarier than the rest of it.

They don't move for a while, Louis trying to get his breathing under control as Nick holds him. There's too much going on inside his head for him to be able to pick out any one thing to fix on; as it is, it's all too much.

"I'll get us an Uber," Nick says finally, when Louis's starting to get cold. "You okay with mine? I don't want to leave Pig all night."

"Fine," Louis says, like he's not agreeing to go home with Nick. He pulls away, going over to the railing again and leaning over it, staring down the thirty or so floors to the ground. He fucks with his hair a bit, adjusting himself in his jeans. At least they're black, so the damp patch might not show up. Shame sits on his skin like a plague.

"Few minutes," Nick says, coming over so that he's standing next to Louis again, leaning on the railing next to him. He bumps the back of his hand against Louis's. "I meant it, you know. I thought about that night a lot."

"You said."

"Fancied you, didn't I?" Nick says, like that's not the opposite of anything Louis's ever believed about Nick Grimshaw. "Thought I was pretty lucky, going back with you."

Louis just nods. He can't admit to liking Nick too. It's a step too far. He has to walk inside in a moment, and hope that whoever disturbed them out here hasn't told literally everyone inside that they'd just caught Nick and Louis together on the balcony. He doesn't know how to deal with the conflicting feelings just thinking about it throws up; the fantasy of being discovered out here and everyone knowing is hot, but the reality, less so. "I should find Liam."

"I've got an Uber rating to maintain," Nick says, and he glances down at Louis's mouth. "Just a few minutes."

Louis tilts his chin up and Nick ducks down to meet him, pressing his mouth to Louis's.

Louis can't help the soft sound in his throat, but he pulls away before he makes it again. "I'll meet you outside."

"Yeah," Nick says, and Louis goes inside by himself, shoulders squared.

He's brave. He can do this.


They don't touch in the cab, Louis sitting at one side of the car and Nick the other. It's a good thirty-five minutes from the Isle of Dogs to Nick's, and Louis fucks with his phone and stares out the window and doesn't talk to Nick.

They don't say a word until they're inside Nick's flat, and a sleepy Pig is investigating the bottom of Louis's jeans, and Nick is stroking his fingers through Louis's hair and helping him off with his jacket.

"Let me blow you," Nick says, trying to hang Louis's jacket up behind him on the rack without turning around.

Louis closes his eyes. "Don't laugh at me," he says softly. "It was all right before, but it's not now. Please don't laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing," Nick says. He cups Louis's face in his hands. "Anyone ever blown you before? Because I want to."

"I'd be better at blowing you," Louis says. "I could blow you."

"I want your dick in my mouth."

Louis tries to look away. "You'd barely feel it."

"I would, and I want it. Please, Louis."

"It's your funeral," Louis says finally. "If you want to waste your time."

Nick kisses him then, tilting Louis's chin up and licking his way into Louis's mouth, walking him backwards into the bedroom until Louis hits the bed. Pig barks, and Nick smiles.

"Wait here," he says. "Take your top off. I'll get her settled and then I'll be back."

Louis waits a beat before obeying. He takes his t-shirt off and unlaces his trainers, but he keeps them on. He sits back on his elbows, legs hanging off the end of the bed. Nick's bedroom is nice: neat and organised and decorated nicely. Louis's place is a mess in comparison, but Louis doesn't have the dedication to making his place look nice that people like Nick and Niall and even his mum have. Maybe he just has to swallow down the realisation that even though he hasn't been in it very much, it's time to finally figure out what he wants his place to look like. Maybe it's time to move in, mentally as well as physically.

Nick's a few minutes with Pig, and when he comes back in, he's shirtless and sockless, just in his jeans. He crawls over Louis and leans in to press his mouth to Louis's, kissing him, and Louis arches up to kiss him back, desperately seeking something, some kind of reassurance that he didn't even know he was missing.

"Let me get you naked," Nick says softly, after a minute. "Let me see."

"Don't laugh at me," Louis says, and he'd never normally say that. He'd stopped showing his dick to people after the second time he'd taken his pants down; the first girl had laughed and said her clit vibrator was bigger and if she was honest, she'd prefer to just go home and use that, while the second time the guy had just rolled his eyes and reached for his shirt.

Louis is really, really good at blowjobs. He can give really good blowjobs. Surely Nick would prefer that.

"I won't laugh," Nick tells him. "I want to suck you off."

There's a fight going on inside of him, but he's too desperate for actual human contact for him to actually say no. "Fine," he says finally, "but don't pretend I didn't warn you."

"Consider myself warned," Nick says and he sits back on his heels, straddling Louis's legs, and undoes the top button of his jeans.

Louis tips his head back and covers his eyes with his hands.

"None of that," Nick says, reaching for his hands, tugging them away. He unzips Louis's fly, and then slides his hands round to cup his arse. "God, your arse is great. I could wank over how great your arse is, you know that, right?"

"You're an arse," Louis says weakly. His dick is mostly hard, the only thing keeping him from being completely hard the embarrassment at Nick finally seeing him naked and being turned off enough to not follow through. There's the good kind of embarrassment, and there's the bad kind, and this feels a lot like the bad kind. He lifts his hips when Nick tells him to, though, and shrugs his jeans down to his thighs. He's still in his pants, but Nick ducks in and presses his mouth to the little tent around Louis's dick, barely large enough to be obvious. There's a damp patch from where he came earlier, and Nick's got his mouth on it; Louis can't bring himself to be revolted by it. He should.

When he sits back again and slides his fingers under Louis's waistband, Louis's fairly sure he's actually forgotten how to breathe. Anticipation trembles across his skin, even his stomach flushes pink, and then Nick's taking down his underwear to mid thigh, and Louis's dick is standing free, flushed and hard and really, really small in comparison to anyone normal sized.

Nick swallows. Louis wants to look away, but he can't. Nick's cheeks are flushed.

"You're really small," Nick says, like that's news.

"Yeah," Louis says, and he feels pretty small too, inside and out.

"Can dicks be pretty?" Nick goes on, thumbs grazing Louis's thighs. "I never thought, like, I wish I could see his dick, I bet it would be really pretty, but, like—"

"It's not pretty," Louis says, and he doesn't mean to sound bitter, but he can't not. "It's just—it's fucking useless, all right? I'm going to spend my entire life wanking off by myself because who the fuck is ever going to want that."

Nick bends over and takes Louis's dick in his mouth. At the first touch of Nick's tongue to the underside of his dick, Louis wants to come. He wants to come like he's a sixteen year old who can't hold out, instead of twenty-three, and a stupid fucking blow job virgin because no one ever fucking wants him this way. His dick's so small he doesn't even see the outline of it against Nick's cheek, because—fuck—his dick is in Nick's mouth.

Nick hollows out his cheeks and Louis cries out, the sensation almost too much to bear even though Nick hasn't even started yet. He's just holding Louis on his tongue, breathing around his dick, and Louis is fattening up in Nick's mouth—for a definition of fattening that means not getting very fat—and he's so very, desperately hard. He's got his whole dick in Nick's mouth and he doesn't even hit the back of his throat.

Fuck, he's small. He's so fucking small, but Nick isn't pulling off in disgust. One hand is pressed to Louis's hip, the other reaching up to stroke his hand down Louis's arm, and this is—Christ, Louis has no frame of reference for this. He's spent a long time trying to pretend he didn't care that no one ever wanted to follow through on sleeping with him, trying to act like no one wanting to blow him wasn't that big of a deal. He's so good at getting other people off, at covering up his dick and just pretending he's here because he likes other people's orgasms.

He does; he just likes his own too, and it's been a long time since he let himself wish that someone would want to give him one. He's not going to last very long.

"Nick—" He's going to come, and if he doesn't warn Nick, he's going to come in his mouth.

Nick doesn't pull off. He reaches for Louis's hand and laces his fingers with Louis's instead, running his tongue over the underside of Louis's dick so that Louis cries out, his hips bucking up. Louis wanks a lot, hours spent with just him and his dick, but it's not like having someone else's mouth on him. He hopes it feels like this for all the people he's blown over the years, because this feels amazing. His orgasm starts to flicker across his skin, and then Nick hums around his dick and Louis makes a desperate, cut-off noise he can't quite completely hide, and starts to come.

Nick swallows it all down, and Louis tilts his head back on the pillows, one arm across his forehead, breathless. He covers his eyes with his arm, and waits for Nick to pull off, but Nick doesn't. He keeps on sucking him down, even though Louis isn't hard anymore and his dick must be the smallest Nick's ever seen by now.

"You don't have to bother, you know," Louis manages, after a couple of minutes. He's trembling with it, oversensitive and overstimulated and he's never been able to do this to himself and it feels like his skin is on fire. He'd never known he could want this. His hand is hot and sweaty, still laced with Nick's, but Nick continues to suck him off.

Nick pulls off. "Do you want me to stop?"

Louis doesn't know the answer. "Don't you want to?"

Nick shifts position so that he's lying by Louis's side, and he reaches over to stroke Louis's hair behind his ear. He glances down from Louis's eyes to his mouth and then up to his eyes again; Louis can't figure this the fuck out. When Nick leans in and presses his mouth to Louis's, Louis can taste himself on Nick's lips, can taste his own come on Nick's tongue. Nick presses closer, knee between Louis's legs, and he rocks his hips into Louis's, his dick hard against Louis's thigh.

"Does it feel like I want to stop?" Nick asks, and he licks his way into Louis's mouth again, his hand still in Louis's hair. He keeps rolling his hips up so that his dick drags over Louis's skin, the tip slick and wet. "Does it feel like I'm not turned on?"

"But why," Louis says, because he's still trembling with his orgasm, with Nick being so close and touching him and being so fucking hard. "Why?"

"Just because you're not big doesn't mean you're not hot," Nick tells him, shifting so that his leg is hooked over Louis's and he can roll his hips up against Louis's little dick. "Can you taste yourself? When I kiss you, can you taste your own come?"

Louis shivers. His dick can't be ready for round two—round three, if Louis counts the unfortunate orgasm on Liam's balcony where anyone could have walked out and seen them—but it at least wants to be.

"Louis, can you?"

"Course I can," Louis says, and he's just so fucking confused right now, because Nick isn't running for the hills. Nick hasn't given him a pity blowie and shoved him out of the bed; Nick is achingly hard and rubbing himself off on Louis's thigh, and Louis wants this. Louis wants this. He's going to take every single moment of this and he's going to have every single thing that he wants, because if this is the one time, it's going to be fucking memorable. He's going to wank over this for a long time, so it's going to be fucking good. "Am I the smallest you've ever sucked off?"

Nick groans against his mouth. "Yeah," he says, shifting so that he's sliding both of his hands down into the small of Louis's back, and pulling him closer. "Fuck, you're small."

"You're my first," Louis says, licking his way into Nick's mouth, trying to catch the taste of himself on Nick's tongue. "Fuck, you taste like me."

"How'd you know how you taste like?"

Louis shrugs a little, flushing.


"Taste myself sometimes, don't I?" Louis says, and he knows he's going red. It's switched inside of him again, that desperate need he had not to be laughed at twisting a little until he needs that little bit of something he's literally never been able to ask for, the edge that comes with being embarrassed. All those times he's had a wank thinking about somebody teasing him about his dick…

Nick pulls back a little, going cross-eyed as he tries to meet Louis's gaze. "Lou—"

"I like it when you make fun of me," he says, and even that's enough to get his dick starting to chub up again, this tiny thing that's not even a half the size of Nick's, that's desperate for a third go round when Nick's managed to hold out all this time just to come at all.

"I thought you might," Nick says, like Louis's transparent or something, like what he likes in secret is obvious to everyone. Louis goes red just thinking about it, even as Nick's kissing his cheek. "I wanted you to like that."

"Do you think everybody knows?"

Nick licks at the corner of his mouth. "Do I really think everybody knows, or for the purposes of whatever game we're playing right now, do I think everybody knows?"

Louis shrugs. Even the embarrassment of getting caught out wanting this to be a game is enough to make him want it even more. "Both?"

"No, I don't think everybody knows really. It was just—it was something about how you reacted, okay? That last time. The first time. After the Music Awards. I got the impression that you might, but then your mum was coming over and I had to go. But I wanted you to like it. I wanted you to like it like I like it."

"Christ," Louis says, because Nick's still moving, rubbing himself off against Louis's leg, and he just wants to get down on his knees for him, crawl in between Nick's thighs and swallow him down like it's all he's good for.

"But if we're talking about the fantasy…" Nick goes on, hand in the small of Louis's back, mouth pressed to his cheek, "then it's written all over your face, darling. How much you're a slut for other people using you and your little fucking dick."

Louis makes a sharp, cut-off noise that he just can't fucking stifle. His fingers tighten around Nick's bicep.

"But they won't, will they? Because you're so fucking little there's no point. They don't use you like you need to be used. So needy, aren't you? So fucking needy."

Nick's breathless now, his hips rocking up against Louis's. He's talking himself to an orgasm, and he's saying the things that Louis most wants to hear, and somehow, they're in the same place without even knowing they were going the same way, and Louis doesn't know how to do anything other than tilt his chin up and kiss him quiet, capturing Nick's hissed-in breath against his tongue.

He kisses him until Nick's panting against his mouth, and then he pulls away and rolls Nick onto his back so he can crawl between his legs and take Nick's dick in his mouth.

Louis is so fucking practiced at blow jobs, and his intention is to show Nick all of it, make it worth his while, pay him back for bothering to show Louis's little dick any form of attention, but it's less than a minute before Nick's shooting his load and Louis's swallowing it down. He made Nick come in less than a minute, and there's something so overwhelming in that that he really doesn't know what the fuck to do with it.

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and flops down onto the bed next to Nick. His dick's mostly hard, but it's still not much to look at. It's not much of anything, really, and he pokes it with his finger, a hi, it's you and me against the world kind of a thing.

Nick's a sweaty mess. He hooks his ankle over Louis's. "Will you stay?" he says finally.

Louis looks up at the ceiling. It's a minute before he replies. "Why would you want me to?"

"Because your dick's really pretty and I think we're into the same stuff?" He pauses. "And because when I said I fancied you before, I didn't really make it clear that I'd never really stopped. Because that, really."

"God," Louis says. "I don't even know what stuff I am into."

"How about fancying me, then? You think you might be into that?"

Louis goes pink. "I let you come back to my hotel room last year," he says. "I let you touch me even though it was just through my jeans. You know how many people I let anywhere near me? And I let you."

Nick pokes him in the side. "All right."

"I wanted you to come back with me more than I wanted to hide," he says, and he feels almost drunk with it, honesty, even though the shame that's going to come with the fallout probably isn't going to be the kind that can make his dick hard when he's alone. Right now, in this room, Nick by his side, he feels reckless and like the world is his for the taking. He's only felt like that on stage before, never at home or in the bedroom.

He'd come in Nick's mouth. Christ.

"You ever thought about fucking anyone?" Nick asks.

Louis laughs. "In, like, a fantasy world when people get off on barely being able to feel anything. That's never going to happen."

"They sell little butt plugs," Nick says, without looking at him. "They're so little they don't even have the tapered end. Or, I mean, some of them do. But some of them have this little ring on the bottom that you can just hook your finger in, you know? They're just little."

"Uh-huh," Louis says, because clearly Nick's waiting for him to respond in some way or other.

"I've got one of them," Nick says. "If I can get off on that, I can get off on you."

"You're mad, you," Louis says.

"I'm not saying I don’t want to fuck you. I'm just saying… you know. That if you wanted to do it the other way around, I'd be up for that."

Louis rolls onto his side and rubs his nose against Nick's bicep. "I'm pretty much a virgin," he says. "If you wanted to laugh at me about that, then here's your time. I'm being dead honest. The floor's yours."

"No," Nick says. "I'm not laughing at you about that. Not when we're being honest."

"I have no idea what we're doing."

"Sleeping over, I think. Then I thought I'd make you breakfast and we could talk about what gets us both off."

"Bit forward for a one-night stand, isn't it?"

"I've spent nine months wanting a second go," Nick says. "This is me literally being the bravest I've ever been with a guy. Normally I fancy someone and I'm all, like, let's never speak again so you never know I like you, but I've been thinking about you for ages so I'm kind of, you know, putting all my cards on the table and hoping you don't chuck them in my face and piss off, you know?"

"Right," Louis says.

"Because every time I see you, you're dead rude, right? And either you hate me or you're playing the same game as I am, and I kind of hope it's the same game thing because I've made you come a good couple of times tonight and I think you're up for round three, so, like, here's your chance to go all out and tell me I'm wrong. Or, you know, stay for breakfast and tell me what gets you off."

Louis's heart pounds. "What's for breakfast?"

"Is that a deal breaker?" Nick rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. His dick lies soft between his legs. Neither of them have cleaned themselves up. They're a mess, but Louis's lazy like that at the best of times. He likes to wank himself to sleep. He can't bring himself to fake a level of personal cleanliness he never normally bothers with, even for Nick. "Dunno. I'm not a brilliant cook or whatever. I've got some eggs. Toast?"

"You got any cereal?"

"Kellogg's Variety Pack," Nick says. "Sorry. Apparently I'm a big kid when it comes to cereal. Might have some Pop Tarts somewhere."

"Huh," Louis says, pulling the duvet up over them both. "All right. I'll stay."

Nick leans over and presses his mouth to Louis's shoulder. "Good," he says. "You want me to wank you off?"

Louis shakes his head. Right now he's sort of settled; his dick is a little fatter and stiffer than usual, but he's sleepy, and sated. He's still warm from the embarrassment of earlier, still warm from Nick's mouth on his dick. He doesn't need more tonight, doesn't need the reminder that he can't hold out, or the humiliation of coming three times to Nick's once. "I'm good," he says, and Nick nods.

He doesn't remember falling asleep.


Louis wakes up to Nick's erection brushing up against the back of his thighs, and his own dick fattening up beneath the sheets.

Last night comes back to him like an avalanche: Nick's mouth on him, Louis coming in his pants, the delicious heat and shame that had come with Nick knowing how much he liked it.

"Morning," Nick says sleepily, shifting back a little so that his dick's no longer pressed up against him. "Sorry. I'm like a rocket in the mornings."

"Blast off," Louis says, for want of something better to say. He's not like a rocket. Even with morning wood he's still only little, his dick poking out and barely resting against the sheets.

"Sleep okay?"

"Pretty good, yeah," Louis says, as they listen to Pig scrabbling up and down the hall outside. It's early, Louis can tell even with the heavy shutters keeping out the daylight. He rolls onto his back, one hand behind his head. The other he keeps free to flatten down the duvet over his dick; there's barely a bump where he's hard. He doesn't tent anything out.

"You want coffee?"

"Tea," Louis says. "If you've got it."

"Fake milk, though." Nick gets out of bed. He's all long skinny legs and stupid chest hair and a dick that's so hard Louis wants to put his mouth on him and suck him down. He watches Nick reach for a pair of boxers from the drawer by the bed, tugging them on. "Can't show Pig my dick, she'll be terrified, poor love. I'll just let her out. Won't be a minute."

Louis nods. He waits until Nick's down the hall before nipping to the loo, picking off a bit of dried come from his stomach as he stands in front of the toilet. It catches on a hair, tugging just a little. He likes the mess.

He washes his hands, then goes to find his phone in his jeans pocket before getting back into bed. He tweets why am I awake ????? followed by some sad faces, and then fucks about on his Twitter feed for a bit, waiting for Nick. He's nervous and unsure and part of him wants this such a lot that having Nick shove breakfast on him and nudge him towards the door sounds like the worst possible outcome. It's inevitable in its way, Louis and his tiny dick aren't of any particular use to anyone. Louis and his tiny dick and his penchant for a certain kind of embarrassment that he's not entirely sure he can define the boundaries for, even less so.

It's a few minutes before Nick comes back with a cup of tea for him, and a coffee for himself.

"You hungry?"

Louis shakes his head. "Not really." He's steeling himself to be binned off.

Nick settles himself back in bed next to Louis. He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. "I like the way you blush," he says, which isn't, I've got to be somewhere, actually, do you want me to call you a cab?

"Right," Louis says.

"I like making you blush. I like the way you get hard if I make you blush."


"I like your dick," Nick goes on, like no lead in is required for dick chat. It's sort of overwhelming in its own way that Nick appears to be actually following through on last night's promise of discussion of their sexual compatibility.

"You do not," Louis says, because someone has to. "It's fucking useless, shut up."

"I do. I like your dick and I like that you get off on being embarrassed and I fancy you rotten. I even like it when you're horrible to me."

"I flirt in mysterious ways," Louis says, going red. His general approach in life is to try to put off the people he likes, because there's no point setting himself up for actual disappointment when they're not interested in taking it any further. He is A+ at going down on people he doesn't have any particular feelings for, though. In general, he doesn't really have any problem with his life choices. Just when it comes to Nick.

"What do you like?" Nick asks, almost as if he's not planning on shoving Louis out the door the moment he's done with his tea. "Do you like it when I call you needy? Because I kept saying slut and stuff but I don't have to if you don't like it. Is there something you like better?"

Louis's dick is getting hard again. For fuck's sake. "I like that," he says, because Louis has always, always been a fake it until you make it kind of a boy. "But, like, cards on the table. If we talk about this stuff are you going to chuck me out after breakfast and then tell all your mates I've got a small willy? Because I kind of like all of this embarrassment stuff, but not, like, public humiliation."

Nick rolls his eyes. "No public humiliation. I just like you, I promise." He puts his coffee cup down and strokes his hand over Louis's stomach. "It's just an added benefit that I'm pretty sure we like some of the same stuff."

"Hmm," Louis says, because his stomach's contracting, Nick's thumb stroking over his belly button. His hand is dangerously close to Louis's dick, and Louis aches to be touched. He's spent years wanting it, and he's so close to getting it.

"Anyway," Nick says, dropping a kiss to Louis's shoulder, "for the first time in forever, I have literally zero things to do for the next twenty-four hours."

"Except me," Louis says.

"Except you," Nick agrees. "I would quite happily do you for the next twenty-four hours. And then some, if I'm honest."

"All right." Louis isn't interested in looking like he's delving too deep. "Where were we?"

"You were telling me what you liked about me calling you names, I think. And which ones you liked."

"I don't know which ones I like," Louis says, because in for a penny, in for a pound. "I like the ones you called me. I like the idea that I'm so desperate for it anyone can see and tell and stuff. You can call me anything that's like that."

"Yeah?" Nick's still stroking his stomach. Louis's dick's getting so terribly hard. There's a blush creeping down over his skin at the knowledge of what he's revealing. "What about when I told you that I knew you were so desperate you had to rub one off against my leg?"

"I think me coming basically told you that was okay."

"All right. What don't you think you'd like?"

Louis shrugs. "Actual public humiliation. I like pretending. I like the idea of people laughing. I just don't like it in real life."

"Fair," Nick says. "Do you pretend when you wank yourself off? Tell yourself everyone knows how little you are?"

Louis goes bright red. "Sometimes," he says. "You should tell me what you like."

"You going red," Nick says, and he leans in and presses his mouth to Louis's. Louis kisses him back, tea-flavoured morning breath and all. "You squirming. You rubbing yourself off against my leg. How little your dick is."

"No one likes that, shut up."

"I do. Got a proper thing for it. Been thinking about you were barely there against my hand for months, now. Sucking you off. Teasing you so that you blush. Making you embarrassed. Telling you how small you are and watching you love it."


"I want to see you wank," Nick says, pushing the duvet down so that they're both revealed in all their glory, Louis's small dick half-hard in embarrassment.

"You'll hardly see anything," Louis says, trying not to stare too much at the size of Nick's dick, double the length of Louis's but still probably falling into the normal category instead of the large. "You'll just see my hand."

"Bet it's lost even in your little fist," Nick says, stretching out his hand next to Louis's so that Louis can see the difference in size.

"You have big hands, though," Louis points out, to cover up for the fact that his dick is properly hard again now, and his heart is pounding.

"And you're probably best wanking with your finger and thumb." It shouldn't make him harder. It really, really shouldn't make him harder, but it does, and there's no denying that. "God, this gets you hard. You're such a slut for it, aren't you, babe? So desperate for someone to make fun of your little dick."

Louis wills himself to stay still, to keep his hands fisted in the sheets, to ignore the way his skin feels like he's flushing bright red.

"Aren't you?" Nick prompts, his hand flat against Louis's stomach. He can probably feel Louis trembling. "Admit it. It's not like you could keep it a secret, anyway, how desperate you are. How much you want it. Bet you could have a whole queue of us waiting outside, coming in one at a time just to laugh at you wanking, and you'd love every moment of it." Louis's dick is so, so hard, the tip slick already, and Louis is dying. He's dying, but he wants it. He wants the fantasy so much he doesn't even know how to say yes, fuck, yes.

"Louis," Nick goes on. "You can't hide it. It's obvious how much of a slut you are for it. It's not a secret. Tell me, and I'll let you touch yourself."

Louis is actually dying. It feels like a desperate, physical pull from deep down inside of him, something needy and twisted and terrible, but he can't help himself. It's being wrenched out of him, the truth. "Nick, please."

"Tell me."

"I want it," Louis manages. It's the fantasy he hasn't ever admitted to. "I want everyone to see."

Nick kisses his shoulder. "You're such a slut for it, aren't you, babe? Such a desperate boy."

"Please," he begs, and being called boy makes him harder still. "Please."

"Finger and thumb."

He wanks off with just his finger and thumb, and he's so fucking small compared to Nick, barely anything in comparison, but Nick's watching him like it's the hottest thing ever, like sucking Louis off the night before hadn't been the worst experience of his life.

Louis, who's never shared this with anyone, who's never met anyone who even looked like they might want to, has found Nick. Louis's given enough blow jobs and hand jobs in his time to tell himself he's not a virgin anymore, but no one ever wanted to do anything to him, and he'd wanted them to so very much indeed. It should kill him that the first person who wanted to is Nick fucking Grimshaw, but it doesn't, because Nick's given him what he needs over and over last night and this morning, and he's been gentle enough in between that Louis can feel his heart slipping a little in his chest, repositioning itself just enough that there's a space opening up where Nick could slide on in. Louis loves fast and easy, he always has. He's just taught himself to cover it the fuck up just as quick.

He's going to get hurt, he knows this. His dick isn’t enough to keep someone like Nick interested for long, but he'll take it whilst it's being offered. He'll take Nick.

"Kiss me," he says, still touching his dick. "Fucking kiss me."

"Manners," Nick says, but he slides a hand into Louis's hair and kisses him anyway, catching Louis's breathless whine on his tongue. "I love how turned on this gets you. I fucking love it."

"Me too," Louis admits, even as he's kissing Nick back, still wanking with just his finger and thumb. He's going to come all over himself again, make a mess just like last night, desperate and needy and completely unable to hold out.

"I love that I could tease you all day about your little dick and it would just make you harder," Nick goes on, kissing Louis's jaw, and down over his throat. "Not that anyone could tell. Too small, aren't you? Barely there. Do the other lads know you're so small? Do they laugh at you?"


"Imagine all of them seeing you like this," Nick says, mouth pressed to Louis's ear. "Imagine them seeing how desperate you are. Imagine them walking out onto the balcony last night and seeing you rub one off against my thigh. Should have made you pull your jeans down and do it half naked. Tell you not to stop when they walked out. But I wouldn't need to tell you not to stop, would I? You're so fucking desperate for it you'd carry right the fuck on. Even though they could see how small you were, how little your dick is and how you're so desperate for it you'd rub one out against anything if it would make you come, even if it was in front of your friends. Wouldn't you?"

Louis's body is on fire. He's burning up from the inside, his orgasm trembling against his skin.

"Wouldn't you?" Nick says again, mouth to Louis's jaw. "Look how little you are, Louis. Look how small you are. Tell me how small, Louis."

"So small," Louis manages. "Useless. Can't even wank properly." He's so close. He's going to come all over himself with Nick watching, and the shame of what he's doing is the best fucking bit.

"It's embarrassing," Nick tells him, wrapping an arm around Louis's chest. "Aren't you embarrassed, how desperate you are? God, Louis. You're so fucking small."

Louis comes with a desperate, wrenched-out cry, pulsing out over his hand and his thigh and his stomach. He tips his head back, skin burning with embarrassment and shame and humiliation. His whole body trembles with it. He can't help the noises he's making, the almost-sobs as Nick gathers him up into a hug.

"You're so fucking good," Nick tells him, kissing his neck. "You're so fucking hot. You've got no idea how hot you are, fuck."

Louis wants to weep with it all, the shame that scorches over his skin like a fire. The bits of him that Nick's seen that no one else ever has. How Nick helped make him come; it's too much. He buries his face in Nick's chest instead, just in case it'll all go the fuck away if only he doesn't look at it for a while.

"So good," Nick says softly.

Louis doesn't pull away. He stays curled up and hidden, humiliation sneaking under his skin and taking root. "Bet you don't fancy me now," he says, stroking his thumb through Nick's chest hair.

"Babe," Nick says. "That was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

"Oh," Louis says, after a moment. He doesn't understand what just happened, or how it worked for either of them, but maybe he doesn't have to.

"You don't have to hide, you know."

"Embarrassed, aren't I?" Louis says, without moving. He loops his arms around Nick's neck, but doesn't show his face.

"The good kind or the bad kind?"

"No idea," Louis says, but he does have an idea. It feels like comedown from the good kind and a slide into the bad. "Both."

"Okay." There's a pause. "Do you want to shower with me? Then have breakfast? Talk about something that isn't how much I fancy you?"

"Stop being a functioning adult," Louis tells him. "Come be shit with your emotions like me instead."

"You sell it so well."

"Anyway, what are we going to talk about? We've got nothing in common except for the fact I've got a small dick and you seem to like them."

"Good enough basis for a relationship, I think. Anyway, we've got loads in common. We just haven't found it yet. We both like cereal. And the lads in your band. They're pretty cool."

"Cracking basis," Louis says. He feels normal enough now to shift a little, sit back on his heels and pull out of Nick's hug. He's still flushed red, can feel the heat of his skin, but he's managed to put a brave face on it for enough years now that he stares right at Nick and doesn't flinch. "Go on, then, what's your favourite cereal?"

Nick rolls his eyes, but doesn't look away. "Start with an easy one, why don't you? Um, I always used to like Ricicles."

"Boring," Louis says. "Next."

"There's nothing boring about Ricicles, shut up. It could be, like, cornflakes. Then where would you be? What's yours, anyway?"

"I couldn't pick a favourite," Louis tells him, as loftily as possible. His dick sits, small and spent, nestled between his thighs. Ninety-five per cent of him wants to cover up and hide. He stays resolutely still. "Got to be chocolate, though, right? What about them chocolate pillows? They're all, like, liquidy inside. And they turn the milk chocolatey."

"Coco Pops do that."

"Shut up," Louis says. "You know, if you want a non-chocolate one, sometimes you can't beat a Raisin Wheat. Or, like, Crunchy Nut Cornflakes. My mum loves them."

"Everyone loves Crunchy Nut Cornflakes, though. You've got to be a right weirdo not to like a crunchy nut."

Louis wrinkles his nose. "Harry."

"Yeah, okay, but Harry's weird. Harry can't be trusted with cereal."

"He's good at every other meal. Just not breakfast. Unless he's cooking. Used to do a proper good egg thing. With the sauce and everything."

"I hate Hollandaise," Nick says, like it's clear that's what Louis meant just from him saying sauce. It was, but that's not the point. "Tastes like vinegar."

"Let's not have that, then."

Nick glances at him.

Louis makes a face back. "You did promise me breakfast."

"I did," Nick agrees. He reaches for Louis's hand, and laces his fingers with Louis's. It feels warm and a little sticky, but that's probably Louis. "Thanks for staying, by the way."

"Well, you know," Louis says, a little awkwardly. "I'm just holding out for a second blowie, if you really want to know."

Nick laughs, but doesn't let go of his hand. "Come on. We're revolting. Let's shower."

"Pushy," Louis says, but the room smells like sex and come and sweat, and Louis doesn't smell too much better. He stumbles awkwardly to his feet, and then tugs Nick to him, going up on his toes for a kiss. "You going to let me steal your toothbrush, or what?"

Nick rolls his eyes and drags Louis into the bathroom. "Fine," he says. "You can borrow my toothbrush."


They eat cereal afterwards, sprawled out on the sofa in front of Nick's television, Pig wandering about with first one toy and then another before flopping down on the floor by the window and promptly falling asleep.

"I'll need to take her out for a walk in a bit," Nick says, a little carefully.

"Oh," Louis says. "Do you need me to leave?"

Nick shakes his head. "Not if you don't want to. You can hang out here, if you want. I could pick us up some lunch or something on the way back. If you want, I mean."

"You trust me not to go through your stuff?"

"Nope," Nick says, making a face. "I'd have a nose around, if I were you. See what's in my cupboards." He pauses. "Anything in particular you fancy for your lunch?"

"We're still eating breakfast."

"I'm only going out the once."

"Sandwiches are good," Louis says, equally carefully. "If you can get a normal one in this poncey place."

"What's normal, then?"

"Nothing with pesto on it. Or fucking goat's cheese. Do I look like a goat? No. Just get me, like, ham and cheese or something. Normal cheese."


"If I knew what that meant I'd probably be offended," Louis says as airily as he can manage. "As it is, see if I blow you after breakfast now."

Nick dumps his bowl down on the coffee table next to Louis's. "Oh yeah?" he says, and tugs Louis in for a kiss. "What about if I go down the bakery too and picks us up something sweet?"

"Hmm," Louis says, sprawling as messily as he can on top of Nick. "Maybe I can be persuaded."

"Excellent," Nick says, and unzips his flies.

Louis blows him right there on the sofa, and pulls out every trick in the book.

Afterwards, Nick lies there, boneless, and heavy breathes into Louis's shoulder, one arm around his waist, anchoring him close.

Louis preens and lets himself be hugged. He's really, really good at blow jobs, after all.


Louis is dressed by the time Nick's back from the park, bags in hand. He's watching telly, fucking about on his phone, legs spread wide.

"All right," Nick says, dumping Pig's lead down on the drawers as Pig does a startlingly excited circuit of the room, and then turns round and does it again the other way. "I got us food."

"Ace," Louis says. "I stole a t-shirt. And some fucking yoga pants, what the fuck are you?"

Nick ignores him, leaning over the back of the sofa and stroking his hand down over Louis's stomach to cup his dick. He kisses Louis's cheek and Louis tilts his head back so that he can meet Nick's mouth with his own. It's startlingly easy considering they generally spend their time bickering and pretending not to think about their hook up the previous year.

"Pleased to see me?" Nick asks, without pulling away. Louis's dick has perked up. "Who am I kidding, of course you're turned on. Desperate for it, aren't you? Such a little cock slut."

Louis shivers.

"You like that?" Nick asks, still cupping Louis's dick. "Like it when I call you that?"

Saying yes is harder than Louis would have thought. He ends up nodding instead, trying to tug Nick in for another kiss.

"Say it," Nick says, refusing to move.

Louis can feel his cheeks starting to flush. "Nick—" He swallows. "Yes. Yeah. I like it when you call me that."

"My little cock slut," Nick says softly. "Do you like it when I tell you what to say? What to do?"

Louis doesn't know what to say to that. He does; of course he does. He's just never considered it quite as explicitly before. He's fantasised over and over about someone telling him to do stuff to them, but it's only ever been part of something larger, this whole amazing thing where someone wanted his dick, even if it was just to laugh at it in his head. "Yeah," he says finally. "I like that."

"Want to try it?"

"What, exactly?" He's desperate to say yes without even thinking about it, because at this point the shame of being embarrassed about it is the good kind, but he's revealing too much of himself.

"Being a dirty boy for me," Nick says, his hand sliding under the waistband of Louis's sweats. Louis can't help the way that his dick jerks at the contact; he's not wearing pants. "You like that too, huh?"

"Shut up," Louis says, but his hips rock up into Nick's touch, even though Nick's hand is just cupping him, and not moving at all.

"You want to try doing what I say?"

Louis lets out a ragged breath. His dick is hard, and Nick must know how turned on he is. "Nick—"

"Been thinking about this all round the park. Good thing I wore that long coat, otherwise everyone would have got an eyeful of my dick." He pauses. "Wouldn't happen with you, would it? No one would even notice."

"Tell me what to do," Louis says, all in a rush. "Please, fuck."

Nick grins against his mouth, capturing him in a kiss. "Desperate boy," he says, and there it is again, boy, and Louis hasn't ever considered being called that, but it works. It works so much that he wants to beg for being called nothing but that, let Nick say it against his tongue until he can swallow it down and be just that. "I'm going to put Pig out in the garden for a bit. Get down on your knees and take off your shirt."

He doesn't look back and doesn't watch as Louis drops to his knees by the sofa, tugging off his shirt. Louis doesn't know what to do with his hands; he ends up putting them behind his back and that just makes him harder.

Nick doesn't rush back. He's out in the back yard, bouncing a tennis ball around for Pig, who's barking her excitement and running in circles. It's almost like Louis is being ignored, and that makes something spark in Louis's chest too: the humiliation of not being important enough to remember. It's stupid. He likes how it feels so much.

When Nick comes back in, it's five minutes later, and he's flushed from the chill in the air. He pulls the door to, leaving Pig outside, happily bouncing around the yard, and takes off his coat, laying it over a chair by the door.

"Show me your dick," Nick says, without coming any closer. Louis tries to stand up, but Nick shakes his head. "Stay where you are," he says. "Push your trousers down."

Louis pushes the sweats down over his hips until his dick's free. He's so small, noticeably tiny even though he's hard. Shame sweeps across his skin and it feels fucking fantastic. "Like that?"

"Like that," Nick says. "Fuck, you're small."

It shouldn't make Louis harder, but it does. It doesn't make him bigger, but then, nothing does.

"What's it feel like, your dick on show like that? Doing what I've told you? How do you feel?"

"Embarrassed," Louis says, and he links his hands behind his back, eyes on Nick. He's waiting for Nick to get undressed, but Nick doesn't make a move to take anything other than his coat and shoes off. He comes to sit on the sofa, legs on either side of Louis's thighs, and strokes his hand through Louis's hair, tilting his head back.

"You might be embarrassed," Nick says, "but you look hot."

Of all the things to make him feel more embarrassed, that shouldn't be one of them, but it still makes him flush. He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Nick's, even though he can feel his skin heating up.

"You're hard all the time, aren't you?" Nick goes on, hand still in Louis's hair. "Aren't you humiliated by how turned on you always are? By everyone getting to see how desperate you are? By how quick you are to come?"


"I should tell you to rub one out now. Come on the floor like the desperate boy you are."

Christ, Louis is quite sure he's about to combust. "Tell me to," he says, almost without realising he's speaking out loud. "Please."

"You're so dirty. Keep looking at me. Touch yourself. Finger and thumb, Lou. There's barely anything to see even with just that."

Louis burns red, but he reaches for his dick anyway, holding it between his finger and thumb like he's been instructed. He's desperate to look down, but he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on Nick.

"Show me how bad you are at holding out," Nick says. "Show me how quick you come. You couldn't satisfy anyone even if your dick wasn't useless, could you? Coming so quick all the time."

"No," Louis says quickly. "Couldn't satisfy anyone." It burns through him, humiliation and shame and a desperation so strong he yearns to reach for Nick and cling on and never let this stop. He's so close to coming and it's barely been any time at all. He's breathless already.

"Where are you going to come, Louis?"

Louis's finger and thumb are enough to bring him right to the edge. Nick's going to tip him over. "On the floor," he says. "Like a dirty boy."

Nick flushes at that, his pupils contracting; he's trying to be in control but Louis can see the damp patch on his jeggings where his erection's pressed up against his fly. Louis is turning him on, and just the power of that, the truth of what they're doing and what it seems to mean for both of them, sets him hurtling off towards his inevitable orgasm. "Just like I told you," Nick says, and maybe Louis expects him to be rough along with telling him what to do, but he's gentle in his touches, cupping Louis's face with his hand. "Come on, babe. Make a mess all over my floor."

Louis gives into it, bucking his hips up as shame rushes through him, his orgasm hitting him like a train. He comes in pulses over Nick's floor, tipping forward so that his forehead is pressed against Nick's chest. He can't look at him.

He closes his eyes. Nick presses a kiss to the top of his head.

"You're really good, Louis."

"I came all over your floor," Louis says, voice muffled in Nick's shirt.

"Just like I asked."

"Uh-huh," Louis says, without moving. Embarrassment sits on his skin like a damp cloud. Maybe he can stay here forever, and never have to meet Nick's eyes. "I just wanked on your floor. It's still there."

"Yep," Nick says, stroking his hand through Louis's hair. "You did exactly what I asked you to."

"Yep," Louis says. "And then I came on your floor."

"Get up here."

Louis lets out a breath and clambers awkwardly to his feet, his sweats still at half mast. He tries to tug them up, refusing to look down at the floor, but Nick stops him with a hand to his waist.

"Leave it like this," he says. "Let me see."

Louis knows he's still red. Leaving his dick hanging out doesn't make him any the less so. He sinks down onto the sofa next to Nick, dick out, and refuses to look at either Nick or the mess on the floor. He stares at the blank TV on the wall instead, even as Nick reaches for a tissue from the box on the table and leans down to wipe up the floor. He doesn't watch him use another one, and then put the tissues down on the floor by the leg of the sofa.

He does, however, let Nick put an arm around his shoulders and tug him into his side.

"You all right?"

"Embarrassed," Louis says. "The bad kind."

Nick kisses the top of his head. He's comforting in a way Louis had never expected him to be. Nick is ridiculous and loud and the centre of attention. He's brash, in his own way, teasing and always poking fun and too fucking tall. He's vied with Louis since the beginning, the two of them circling each other and making eye contact and looking away again, but the possibility of the two of them had never included this.

"What about your dick?" Louis asks, still refusing to meet Nick's eyes. "Who's looking after that?"

"I can wait," Nick says. "Quite up for fucking you later, if you fancy it later on." He pauses. "You okay with what just happened?"

"It was hot," Louis admits, since apparently embarrassment isn't entirely limited to when he's got his dick in his hand. "I liked it."

"Me too."

"Even if you didn't get to come."

Nick shrugs. "I like to wait. You like to come and I like to wait. Turns out I really like to watch you come, too, so, you know, we're all fucking winners."

Louis manages a laugh at that. "This is weird, though, right? Me and you?"

"Dunno. Maybe, I suppose. I think, what's, like, the weirdest is how it doesn't really feel weird? Or is that just me. Like, you're here on my sofa and I've seen you come all these times and none of that bit feels weird. Does it feel weird to you?"

"Maybe. I don't know. You're the first person who's ever seen my dick and then made me come as an, you know, on purpose thing, so, like…" He trails off. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, you know that, right? I am the fucking king of talking round this shit and then going down on them and then finding an excuse to fuck off. And, like, the other stuff? I haven't even told myself I like some of that, and then I'm here and having a wank on your living room floor, and you're like, yeah, come on, do it, you're good, and it turns out I fucking love that, and who even knew? Cos I fucking didn't, and then I'm here with you with my dick hanging out, and you like to wait, and I don't even know what that means because I like days when I get to wank eleven times and not move off the sofa. So, like, everything is fucking new to me, and I don't know what's going on, and I can't get over how the weird thing is how nice it is to, like, be doing this with you."

"I like making you come," Nick says.

"That's what you got from that?" Louis makes a face. "You are such an idiot."

Nick makes a face right on back. "It's weird for me too, you know. If I fancy someone I ignore them until it goes away, all right? Because I'm totally a functioning adult. But somehow, like, with you that ended up with us together last year and now this. And it's easier than it should be. I think that's what I'm trying to say. It's easy and I didn't expect that."

"I know," Louis says. "I'm easy, and this is easy, and that's weird."

Nick rolls his eyes. "You're the easiest," he says. "You want to snog on the settee for a bit like we're teenagers?"

"Course. It's what I live for. Snogging on the sofa." He pauses. "You haven't been a teenager for bloody ages."

"Neither have you," Nick counters. He goes over to the door to let Pig back in, and comes back over via a trip to the bin in the kitchen with the tissues.

Louis tucks his dick away, in case he frightens the dog. It's fairly good timing, considering that Pig bounces up onto the sofa three seconds later, and licks Louis's face.

"She's a pest," Nick says, sounding so fond as he sits down that it's one hundred per cent clear that he loves every last thing about his dog and her very enthusiastic doggy face. "And a giant cock block."

"A tiny cock block," Louis says, scratching her behind her ears.

"That too. Now, Pig, we both love you but we're on a timetable here, and I want to do a little snogging on my sofa. Jump down, there's a good girl."

Pig, as it turns out, is not that amenable to being left out. Louis ends up watching Nick try to tempt Pig over to her bed with a series of ever more ridiculous doggy toys, and in the end, three doggy treats on her pillow.

Nick takes full advantage of Pig being distracted for two seconds, and comes back over to the sofa to sprawl on top of Louis. "Hi," he says. "Long time no see."

"Hi," Louis says. "I thought you promised me a snog?"

"A not-weird snog," Nick agrees, shifting a little so that he's not entirely squashing Louis, and so that he can wrap his feet around Louis's.

"Uh-huh," Louis slides his hand into Nick's hair. "Nice hair cut, by the way."

"Shut up and kiss me," Nick says, and Louis very obediently does just that.

It's been ages since he's just had a session getting off with someone with no additional stress; he's learnt to multi-task, to constantly think about how he's going to play it, how he's going to avoid getting his dick out, how he's going to come out of this a winner even though he's not big enough to be worth getting naked for. He's always had to have one eye on the exit, ready to jump on in to distract from his dick and go for the blowie instead. It's weird to just have this, to have Nick sandwiched between him and the back of the sofa, hand in the small of Louis's back, just kissing him. To be able to kiss back and not have to worry about if his dick was hard or the gap between his crotch and whoever he was getting off with was wide enough. To just be able to give into it, no pressure, and just like it.

To be able to do that with Nick still should be weird, though. It really should be weird.

The fact it's not is weird in itself.


"You've given me beard burn," Louis says, kicking Nick under the table as they're eating their sandwiches later. Pig is sat on the chair at the head of the table, in between both of them, ignoring her food bowl in the kitchen in favour of joining in the conversation.

"I haven't got a beard," Nick says, waving Pig off the seat and towards the kitchen. "It's, like, really manly stubble."

Louis makes a face as Pig clatters into the kitchen. He's got stubble too, and Nick looks a bit flushed as well, which suggests that Louis's not the only one of them who's going to come out of this with a lasting reminder of the best part of an hour kissing on the sofa. Sitting at the table with just their pants on, eating baguettes with very fancy ham and cheese in, Nick with a coconut water and Louis with a cup of tea, it's oddly normal, and—even more oddly—really quite nice.

"Don't make that face," Nick says. "My stubble's dead manly. Yours is all sort of, you know."

Louis's eyebrow goes up entirely of its own accord. "I don't know," he says. "Fill me in."

"Scruffy," Nick says. "In a hot way."

"In a hot way."

"I like it that you're scruffy," Nick says, going a little red. Louis likes that. He can't help but wonder if this is how Nick feels with Louis when he's all embarrassed. Maybe. "You're all, like, scruffy and good looking and stuff."

"Scruffy and good looking and stuff. Wow."

"Shut up," Nick says. "This is why I don't tell anyone I fancy them. It's just an opportunity for humiliation."

Louis snorts. "Good thing I'm into that, then."

"Yeah," Nick says, and under the table, his foot bumps into Louis's ankle. "Good thing you are."

"So," Louis says quickly, because he's starting to go red himself, and that's turning into the point of today. He's done with his lunch, anyway. "I'm not being funny or anything, but are you planning on touching my dick at any point? Because I can wank myself off at home."

Nick chokes on the remains of his sandwich, thumps himself on the chest, swallows, and looks up. "Louis—"

"I was just asking."

"Couldn't you have waited until I wasn't half way through a mouthful?"

"Where would be the fun in that?" Louis asked. "Anyway. My willy."

"Tiny thing that it is," Nick says.

"Tiny thing that it is," Louis echoes.

"Is it hard, or can't you tell?"

Louis shivers. "You should look and see."

Nick has one bite left of his sandwich. He's holding it between finger and thumb. "Stand up and take your pants off, then," he says. "Show me that tiny little thing and if it can even get excited." He pops the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, and sprawls back in his chair a bit.

Louis shouldn't want to get naked just so that Nick can smirk at him about how little his dick is, but there's just this thing about the potential humiliation that crawls inside of him, desperate and begging for it. He stumbles to his feet, already pushing down the boxers he'd borrowed from Nick, dropping them on the floor. His dick juts out, little and stiff and excited.

Nick isn't looking at his dick. He's looking at the pants on the floor. Louis's skin itches.

"Pick those up," Nick says, after a moment, and Louis doesn't even want to say no. It trembles across his skin, even as he's bending down to pick up the pants, even as he's folding them into four and putting them on the back of one of the chairs. He's left his dirty pants on the floor for as long as he can remember; he's spent hours arguing with anyone who'll listen that there's no point picking shit up until there's a reason, like they're going in the washing machine.

"Yeah?" he says.

"Yeah," Nick says, and he looks up then, gaze resting on Louis's dick. Nick's legs are sprawled open, and there's the outline of his dick in his pants, half-hard. Louis wants to suck him down. "Fuck, that's barely a cock at all, is it?"

"No," Louis says. It's barely anything.

"Didn't think you could even get hard," Nick goes on. "Looks like a useless dick to me."

"It's useless," Louis agrees, even as he's getting harder, his skin flushing.

"And you want me to touch that?"

Louis's nodding even before Nick's finished speaking. "Please," he says. "Please, I want you to."

"Needy boy, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Louis says, and his skin burns with how true it is. "I'm a needy boy."

Nick beckons him closer, and Louis steps in between his legs, his little dick jutting out. "Aren't you embarrassed to even get that out for me?" Nick asks, stroking his hand up Louis's thigh. It's contact, fuck, it's being touched, and Louis wants to beg for it, wants to crowd closer and get Nick to touch him everywhere, for as long as Louis hasn't been touched and then more so beside. "I'd be embarrassed."

"It's humiliating," Louis admits, burning red as Nick strokes over his bum and into the small of his back, drawing him in closer. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Barely a dick at all," Nick agrees, hand to Louis's hip. He glances up at Louis, licking his lips, and then down to Louis's dick again. "Such a little thing."

Louis jerks his hips forward, unable to help himself. When Nick slides off the chair and down onto his knees, Louis can barely breathe. He makes a desperate, choked-off noise when Nick takes him in his mouth, tongue pressed to the underside of Louis's little dick. Nick sucks at him, sliding his mouth down over the length before sitting back on his heels and letting Louis's dick slip out of his mouth.

"I want to fuck you," Nick says, and he doesn't wipe his mouth. His lips are spit slick. Louis can't take his eyes off him. "If I suck you off now, will that mean you can't get it up for me if we fuck?"

Louis shakes his head. "I always want it," he says, and it's an exaggeration, but not as huge a one as it could be. "I'm a desperate boy." He doesn't quite get why calling himself boy is as hot as it is.

"A needy boy," Nick says, his hand stroking over Louis's thigh. "A slut for cock."

"I'll come for you," Louis says. "I want it so much I'll come twice. I'll come in your mouth and then I'll come on your dick." He doesn't add, like a good boy. He wants to.

"Will you?" Nick asks, eyes dark.

Louis can feel himself flushing. "It'll be my first time." Louis doesn't consider himself a virgin. He's been in enough sexual situations for him to consider that ship firmly sailed even if there hasn't been actual fucking, but there's something about the pretence that makes him want to curl up and come from the humiliation alone. "I'm a virgin."

"Not surprising, really, not with a dick that small. You'll probably shoot your load in two seconds flat, desperate thing that you are."

"I'll be good," Louis pleads, without even realising that's what he wanted to do. "I'll be really good. I'll hold out."

"What, you might make a minute instead of thirty seconds?"

"I'll be good for you," Louis says again, and he might be playing with his concept of virginity, but he's not playing with this. Wanting to be good while Nick fills him up, like he's nothing without it. In this moment, he isn't. He juts his hips forward. "I'll be a good boy."

There's a moment, then, where Nick's eyes meet his. "A good boy, huh?"

Louis nods quickly, not caring how much he's embarrassing himself. "I will, I promise."

"What do good boys get, then?"

Louis burns red. "Laughed at," he says. "Teased. Made fun of. Embarrassed."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Louis says, nodding. "It's what I want."

Nick stays still for the longest moment. "Begging for a blowie right in front of a window, huh?" His flat isn't particularly overlooked at the back, but it's conceivable Louis could be seen right now, dick out and begging for it. "Don't care who sees how desperate you are, do you? Getting your tiny dick out where everyone can see and make fun of you for it."

"Nick—" Louis can't help it. He circles his hand around his dick and rocks his hips forward, wanting Nick to touch him again.

"Hands off," Nick says, rolling his eyes. "So desperate you can't even wait, huh?"

"Yeah," Louis agrees, dropping his hands to his sides. "So desperate."

Nick takes him in his mouth again, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks him down. God, Louis isn't going to last. His second blow job ever and he's not going to fucking last. He's too desperate to hold out, even as he tries, but Nick's giving him everything he wants, and he's touching him, and he's blowing him, and Louis never thought he'd get any of this, but he's got Nick Grimshaw on his knees for him and it's too fucking much. He slides his hands into Nick's hair, and Nick groans around Louis's dick, and everything is too much.

He barely lasts two minutes before he's coming in Nick's mouth, and Nick's sitting back on his heels and wiping his mouth. His erection stretches out his underwear. His eyes are bright.

"I couldn't wait," Louis says quickly, "I'm sorry, I know it's desperate of me, but I couldn't hold out."

Nick climbs to his feet, his knees creaking as he reaches for Louis, pulling him into a hug and kissing the top of his head. "I like that you come quick," Nick says, mouth pressed to his ear. "Saves me the hassle of jaw ache."

Louis trembles. He loops his arms around Nick's neck and tries to hide his face. The humiliation that comes post-orgasm isn't the good kind; it's the meshing of the things he likes sexually with the reality of everything else, and there's never been a space for the things that turn him on in his life, not where other people are concerned at least. He doesn't know how to make it work.

"You'll tell me if I go too far, won't you?" Nick asks, without pulling away. "I still don't know exactly what you like. Or what I like."

"I'll tell you," Louis says, although he's not one hundred per cent sure he would. So much of it is good and he's not interested in putting any limitations on that side of it, especially if this is only a one night thing. In a way it feels way too comfortable for a one night thing, but Louis is putting no stock in anything progressing beyond today. "I like it."

"Until afterwards."

"I like it afterwards too. I'm just embarrassed for wanting it."

Nick kisses his hair again. "Don't be," he says. "I want it just as much."

Louis doesn't say much to that. There's nothing to say. He likes all of this and he likes that Nick wants him; other than that, this is twenty four hours out of their lives, and he wants to make the most of it.

Nick steps back, slides his fingers under the waistband of his pants, and pushes them down. His dick jerks up, hard and erect.

"Will you fuck me?" Louis asks, eyes on Nick's dick. Nick's turned on, and it's because of Louis, and that's ridiculous and amazing and it's doing the queerest things to Louis's insides. Louis knows he's objectively pretty good looking; it's impossible to be in a boy band and not know that people find you attractive. It's just that no one has ever found the whole of Louis attractive before, not once, and here Nick is, turned on and asking for him, and whether he's doing it in spite of Louis's dick or not, Louis can't know and doesn't even want to, but Louis's crap little dick isn't making Nick turn around and walk away. It might even be making him stay, and even believing in the possibility is turning his head inside out. "I want you to fuck me, Nick, please."

Nick slides his hands into the small of Louis's back, and steps in so that he can mouth at Louis's neck. "I'll give you a few minutes first," he says, mouth against Louis's skin, "you've only just come."

"No," Louis says, shaking his head. "What you did last night, after I'd come. You didn't stop. We could do that. I mean, we could just—I don't know, okay. I don't want you to stop." If they stop for a second, he'll start to worry. He'll start to go over the possibility that just this once—and maybe only this once, if no one ever wants to go to bed with him and his dick again—he wants them to want his dick too. He's a package deal and he comes with a small fucking dick.

Nick keeps kissing Louis's neck. "All right," he says, patting Louis on the bum. "Okay. Go into the bedroom; I'll just make sure Pig's all right. I'll be in in a couple of minutes."

By the time Louis gets to the bedroom, he's shaking.

He goes for a piss, washes his hands, and gives himself a good talking to in Nick's bathroom mirror about quite what he's doing and why. Then he lobs himself in the direction of Nick's bed just in time for Nick to walk in from out in the hall.

Nick's still completely nude, and he closes the bedroom door behind him. "Nobody wants Pig initiating a threesome," he says, leaning back against the closed door. Louis wants to remember all these details of how Nick looks, his dark chest hair and his wide smile and his knobbly knees and long legs. He's tall and skinny where Louis isn't, and even his toes are weirdly thin in comparison to Louis's.

Louis spreads his legs a little. He puts his arms behind his head, propping himself up on Nick's pillows, and gives Nick the cockiest grin he can muster up. He's too well experienced to have a first time, but this will be the second new thing in twenty-four hours. He doesn't want to let on that he's nervous, even he does want to get teased through it. "Like what you see?"

Nick gives him a lazy once-over, but his eyes are sharp. "Yeah."

"You seem a long way away for someone who likes what they see," Louis says, spreading his legs a little more. His dick is resolutely soft, and really rather little. His cheeks flush a little, but there's no point in hiding. Nick's seen it all.

"You seem a little cocky for someone who was begging to be a good boy just a few minutes ago."

"Ah," Louis says, "I've got to make up for the lack of cock down there by having more of it somewhere else."

"Uh-huh," Nick says carefully, and he comes over and sits down on the bed, hand curling around Louis's ankle.


"Dunno," Nick says. "I don’t know what I'm doing just as much as you don't know what you're doing. Except two minutes ago you were all, don't stop, and now you're all, I don't know. Pushy? Do you want to shift things round a bit? Is that it?"

Louis lets out a breath. He moves his ankle a little, but not enough that Nick stops touching him. "What are we doing? Are you just going to chuck me out after this? You're bound to have something on tonight, you're always off out. I don't know, like, if you chuck me out after we've done this, if I'm going to be okay straight away. And I just got in here and I just realised that, that's all."

"We don't have to do anything."

"No, that's not it. I want to. I just—it's embarrassing, all right? Afterwards. It feels embarrassing, and if it's anything like last night it kind of makes me, I don't know, lose it a bit? Like on Liam's balcony. I didn't want to be by myself. If we do this and it makes me feel like that again and then I have to go home, I'm just, like—it's self preservation, isn't it? Wanting to make sure I'll be okay."

Nick makes an odd sort of clicking noise in his throat. "I've got nothing on tonight," he says, after a moment. "Got nothing on until lunchtime tomorrow, actually. Going round my mate's for Sunday lunch."

"Cool," Louis says, because roast dinners are worth acknowledging. "So, um—"

"Stay until tomorrow," Nick says quickly. "Stay tonight too. We'll get a takeaway or something later. No being alone if you don't want to be."


"Stay," Nick says. His cheeks are flushed. "Stay, and we can do this the way we want to do this, and then afterwards we can make sure we're both okay. I mean. You know. If you want to."

"Do I get to pick where we get takeaway from, though?"

Nick rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says. He takes a breath. "Is that a yes? You all right?"

"Yeah, it's a yes. It's like, it's my first time, innit? Bound to be a bit funny about it, especially since you've probably been king of the shaggers for the last however long."

"Oi, cheeky," Nick says. "Are you really worried about it?"

Louis shrugs. "It's stupid, all right?"

"What is?"

"Like, no one has ever wanted my fucking dick, all right? Nobody. And it's stupid because I know I want you to tease me and whatever, because we both know I get off on that, it's just—I don't want you just to fuck me. I want you to want me and my dick, just, like, this once, all right? I don't want you to forget my stupid, crap dick. And it's so fucking stupid, and I don't know why I want it so much, and I don't even know what I'm asking for. But, just, like, I reckon if I needed to I could find someone who'd fuck me and not look at my dick, but I don't want that. I want you to want me and my dick, you know? Just this once."

Nick looks at him. Louis knows he's going red. This isn't the good kind of embarrassment. It's the other kind. The embarrassing kind.

"I could touch you?" Nick says, after a minute. "Wank you off as I fucked you. Just keep on touching you so you'd know I was here for you and your dick."

"You don't want to do that," Louis says, even though it goes right to the root of what he's worrying about, and it's an easy fix.

"I do want to do that. I mean. I do want to do that. So we could do it."

"It's stupid," Louis snaps, because he is sick of needing stupid stuff that people have to compromise to give him, if they give him anything at all. Which they haven't.

Nick shifts so that he's lying on the bed next to Louis, his head propped up on his arm. "It seems pretty normal to me. When you fuck me, I'm pretty sure I'm going to want you to not ignore any bit of me, you know, just saying."

"You don't want that."

"Would I keep mentioning it if I didn't?"

"You won't come."

"If I can come on a tiny plug then I can come on your cock," Nick says, rolling over to root around in the drawers by his side of the bed. There's a toilet bag in the second drawer down, and he unzips it and comes out with a tiny, peach coloured plug.

"What the fuck is that?"

"I shit you not," Nick says, "but that's actually called my first anal experience."

"Fuck off," Louis says, not making any move to grab it. "That's smaller than my dick."

"It is," Nick agrees. "And if I can come from this, then I can come on your dick, so stop worrying."

"You've got other stuff in there though, right?" Louis says, peering over Nick's shoulder and trying to get an eye full of what else is in the toilet bag. "You don't just secretly get off on pissin' small dicks like mine, right?"

"There's a variety of sizes," Nick tells him, going a bit pink. "Shut up, we're not going through my sex toys just because you're nosy."

"Intrigued, maybe. I can't believe you've got my first anal experience and you haven't chucked it out."

Nick makes a face, but he puts the little pink plug back in his bag, and zips it closed. "I like it, all right? Sometimes I like one of the others, and sometimes I like that one, and sometimes I don't like any of them."

"Hmm," Louis says, and mentally files away my first anal experience as something he could get for himself and see what it might feel like to be fucked by someone as small as he is. "I still think you're weird for wanting it, but whatever. If you're begging for it, like, we can do it."

"Cool. Thanks."

Louis rolls his eyes. "Are you done begging yet? Because you're the one who promised to fuck me."

Neither of them mention Louis's momentary freak out and the pause in proceedings. Louis quite likes that; if he segments his life out then there are all manner of things he can pretend never happen at all—this whole weekend included.

Nick tucks his feet in between Louis's. "I did," he says. "How do you want to play it?"

"Well… you have a penis, and I have an arse, and sometimes when two boys fancy each other very much one of them puts their cock in the other's bum—"

"Thank you, Mr PSE teacher. I meant, like, do you want me to tease you or not? Or are we doing this straight?"

"This is a weird conversation, but, like, isn't the principle of gay sex that we're not doing it straight?"

"You're such an arse," Nick says, leaning over and slapping him on the bum. "Stop dicking about."

"Saucy. Um… I don't know. Like, maybe not as much teasing as before? Like, don't call me a cockslut, but you can tease me about how little I am."

Those instructions are crap, but to Nick's credit, he takes them in his stride, even as he's tugging Louis closer and wrapping his arms around Louis's back. Louis slides his hands down over Nick's boney arse and wiggles his hips against Nick's. He can feel Nick's dick start to take more of an interest in proceedings again, perking up against his hip. Louis's always quick to get hard, even after coming, and he knows his dick is starting to get a little excited.

"I've wanted to do this for a year," Nick tells him, even as he's bumping his nose into Louis's. "Over a year, really."

"It's my delectable arse and amazing wit," Louis agrees.

"Sensational vocab, darling."

"I'm laying it on just for you. Is it going to get me laid?"

"Might do," Nick says, so close now that Louis can feel his breath against his mouth. "Say delectable again."

"Delectable," Louis says, tilting his chin up a little. "My arse is delectable."

"It is rather nice," Nick agrees. His hands are on Louis's bum. He squeezes. They're sharing breath. They're startlingly close.

"Are you going to kiss me or what?"

Nick laughs at that, then nudges at Louis's mouth with his own. "Maybe," he says, so softly it's lost against Louis's lips.

Louis smiles, tilts his chin up again, and kisses him.

They kiss for a while, until Nick is rock hard against Louis's hip, and they're pressed up against each other, skin flushed. Louis's breathless, and more so when Nick sneaks a hand between them both and cups Louis's dick in his palm.

"So excited, aren't you?" Nick says, mouth to Louis's. "So turned on."

"Yeah," Louis says, rocking his hips up. Nick stays cupping him, kissing along Louis's jaw, his other hand splayed across Louis's cheek, tilting his head back. Louis goes with it, hand to Nick's shoulder, and when Nick stops touching his dick in favour of sliding his hand through Louis's legs and touching his hole, Louis lets out what is an embarrassingly high-pitched whine. He knows he's going red.

"So good," Nick says, kissing him again. "You respond so well."

Louis normally fucking hates being patronised and he hates being told how well he's done, but something about this particular set of circumstances, and the fact his dick's involved, means the goal posts have completely changed. He eats it up with a spoon, desperate for more, begging for it with every touch and every whine and every breathless, choked-off whimper. "Tell me again," he begs, because it's embarrassing, wanting it so much, and he craves that feeling. "Tell me I'm good."

"That what you like?" Nick asks, shifting so that he's not reaching between Louis's legs anymore, but stroking down over his bum and touching him that way so that Louis whimpers and bucks his head forward. "You want me to tell you how good a boy you are? Get you all flushed red, all embarrassed?"

Louis already wants to hide his face in Nick's shoulder. "It's embarrassing," he says.

"Look how responsive you are," Nick goes on, because he's stroking over Louis's hole with his fingertip and Louis can't keep still. He's wriggling, rocking his hips up, and it's not like Louis hasn't ever put a dildo up there or anything, but he's never been touched before, and it's like he's ticklish, like he can't stay still even if he tried. "You're so good at this."

This isn't how Louis intended it to go; he'd never considered that this might be the kind of embarrassment he might like, but Nick touching him and calling him good is as embarrassing as other things Louis's liked, and it works so well for him in this moment because the shame doesn’t make him want to eat himself.

"You're so hard," Nick goes on, and Louis can't help but wonder if Nick's ever had to sleep with someone before who took so much and gave so little, but Louis needs this. He needs it just to push on and get to the next level, craves it even when he doesn't know what it is, and the worst thing is, if this is the only time he ever gets to do this, then he's taking everything he can from it, even if it means he begs to be good. "Look how turned on you are, just because you want to be fucked."

Louis rubs his dick over Nick's thigh. "Am I the smallest you've ever had?"

"Course you are, babe," Nick says, ducking in to kiss the corner of Louis's mouth. "You're so small. Look how hard you've got, though."

"I know how hard I get," Louis says, kissing him back. Nick's finger is still stroking over his hole, except for every few seconds he sneaks his way inside, not very far, just enough to make Louis whimper and beg for more.

Nick reaches for the lube. "So good. You're such a good boy."

Louis cries out.

It's one finger, slick with lube, and then it's a second, and Louis is holding back from giving in to his orgasm when Nick turns him over so that he's on his hands and knees.

"Legs apart," Nick tells him, nudging him on his way. His hole must be properly on display now, and Louis stretches his legs out a little more. His little dick hangs down between his legs. Louis can't help but wonder if it's even visible from behind through his legs, or if he's too small. He shivers with it.

Nick keeps touching him, opening him up until Louis is dizzy with it. "I'm not made of glass," Louis says. "Just because I'm a virgin—"

He likes the way that sounds on his tongue. Virgin. He bites his lip. "I'm a virgin, you don't have to be so careful. I can take it."

Nick kisses him right in the middle of his back. Louis hadn't ever considered himself as particularly ticklish, but right now he's trembling with it, shaking beneath Nick's touch. "You're so good for me," Nick says, kissing him again. He reaches round and cups Louis's dick in his hand. "Such a good boy. So hard and turned on, aren't you? Don't think you want to be a virgin any more, do you?"

Louis shakes his head, dropping his head. Nick's hand is on his dick and it feels so good, like he's a whole, like what he wants and who he is and what he is is all part of the same thing, just for once, just here with Nick in this moment. "Nick—" He swallows down a whine. "Fuck me, please, please. I don't want to be a virgin anymore. I want you inside of me. I need it. I need it. I'll be a good boy, I promise."

Nick's breath catches, and then he's letting go of Louis's dick and Louis whines at the loss, rocking his hips forward even though there's nothing for him to rub against. He'd rub against anything if it meant he got an orgasm at this point; he's not ashamed. Or rather: he is, but the shame is part of what makes him want to give into it and rub his dick against the sheets until he comes, Nick watching as he can't hold out.


"Condom," Nick says, and Louis shivers. He and the lads have been talking about sex for a decade or more; all that time, Louis hasn't ever torn open a condom packet and slid one down his dick. He's not sure they even make condoms for dicks as little as his.

"Hurry up," Louis whines. "I want it."

"I know," Nick says, and he manages to sound amused even though he's a little breathless. "Desperate boy."

Louis pushes his bum back. "So desperate. Come on."

"Greedy," Nick says, but there's the click of a lid opening and the wet sound of Nick's hand on his dick, and Louis wants to come. He wants to come on Nick's dick, and he's so fucking hard and Nick isn't even inside of him yet.

The heavy, blunt press of the head of Nick's dick against Louis's arse is almost too much. He groans, pushing back, and that first feel of Nick inside of him is the best thing ever, like he can't even breathe because everything he's wanted for so fucking long has caught up with him.

"Louis, god—"

"Please," Louis begs. He wants that to sum up everything that he wants and more, wants it to be enough for Nick to know to continue and enough to tell him just what Louis needs to make it perfect, and somehow it is because Nick is reaching for him again, one arm wrapped around Louis's waist as he slides on in, first two fingers curving around Louis's little dick.

"You're so small," Nick tells him. "You've got such a small dick, Louis. Such a tiny fucking dick."

It burns through him, this fucking need. "Yes," he manages, pushing back onto Nick's dick, and Nick isn't really moving, concentrating on Louis's dick instead, but Louis wants more. "Yes. I'm so little."

"And you love it," Nick goes on, rolling his hips up and moving his fingers on Louis's dick at the same time, a disjointed rhythm that Louis can't match, trying to rock forward and push back all at once. "You love it, don't you? Me seeing how little you are and how desperate. It's what turns you on."

Louis knows he's flushing pink, but he's breathless and close to coming and Nick is moving inside him, hips rocking up, and his fingers stutter as his attention slides back to his dick, and Louis doesn't care. He's being fucked and Nick's hand is on his dick and he's wanted, he's wanted, all of him is fucking wanted and it feels like he's on top of the world.

"Course I love it," he says, breathless, pushing back. "Please, fuck me. Fuck me."

"Your first time," Nick goes on, fucking up into him, and maybe Louis had forgotten how Nick hadn't come back in the living room because maybe Nick was close to the edge before they even started too.

"You're my first," Louis agrees, head dropping down again. "Virgin before. Please. Please."

Nick keeps fucking him, and it feels so good, so full, so perfect that Louis can barely believe it. He's no stranger to plugs and dildos but he's a stranger to this, and if the breadth and length aren't new to him, then the fact that Nick is real and panting and holding his dick fucking is.

"Babe," Nick says, a minute or so later, breathless and still fucking him. "God, babe, you're going to make me come."

Louis's arms are shaking, holding himself up, and he wants to come first, wants to lose himself in the shame and embarrassment of not being able to hold out. He's so close to the edge, and Nick's fingers are still on his dick, bringing him off. He can't hold out. His orgasm crashes over him, pulsing his need all over Nick's fingers and his sheets and it's—finally—enough. He drops down onto his elbows even as Nick keeps on fucking him, shaking with it, until Nick's sliding out of him and tugging off the condom and wanking all over Louis's back, come striping Louis's arse and his back and he can't, he can't, it's all too fucking much.

He collapses down onto the sheets, face buried in the pillows, and waits until he can remember how to breathe again before he comes up for air. Nick's sprawled next to him, flushed pink and breathless, one arm over his eyes.

"Not a virgin anymore," Louis says softly after a while, even though in reality he hasn't considered himself one in the longest time.

Nick shifts his arm a little. "I know," he says, flushed. He rubs a hand over his chest. "How's it feel?"

"Like I just got fucked."

"Was it all right? I didn't forget your dick, or anything?"

Louis hides his face in the pillow again. "No," he says. "Just the right amount of attention. How was my bum?"

"Delectable," Nick says, a little awkwardly. They're a mess and they need to clean up. Nick produces a packet of wet wipes from the drawer in his bedside table, and wipes Louis's back for him.

It's possible Louis is pink all over. It gets worse when he has to roll over and Nick wipes his dick clean with a scented wipe. His dick is small and limp and even tinier than ever. It doesn't seem to put Nick off.

"Was I all right?" Louis asks finally. "I know I'm needy as fuck and weird as well."

Nick laughs at that, rolling over to kiss Louis's shoulder. "We're into the same stuff," he says, sliding an arm around his waist. "And you were hot as fuck, so stop fucking worrying."

Louis closes his eyes, and burrows himself into Nick's side. "Don't laugh at me," he says, and he needs a moment.

Nick hugs him. "Okay," he says, and kisses the top of his head. "I won't."

He shows his face after a bit, rolling back onto his back and staring up at the ceiling.

"All right?" Nick asks.

Louis nods. "Just embarrassing, innit?" He shrugs. "Like showing you inside of me or something." There's a risk associated too, but he's not thinking about that right now. The idea of Nick telling someone who would tell someone else, or maybe telling Harry, so that other people knew about the weird shit that Louis got off to. He can't think about that. The only way he's getting through this is if he thinks about it staying here, in this flat, and going nowhere else.

Nick makes a face at that. "I like it too."

"But you like doing it to me. I like it just to get off. It's not normal, is it? Liking all of that."

"Dunno," Nick says. "Feels all right to me. Doesn't hurt anyone, does it? Makes you feel good and me feel good, so, like, I don't know. What else is there?"

A small dick in a world full of normal size ones. Louis shrugs. "Can we talk about something else? Just until it wears off." He means the bad embarrassment, the kind he doesn't get off to.

Nick nods. "Do you want a drink? A beer or something? We could watch telly."

Louis snuggles down under the duvet. "Don't want to move," he says. He's going to create a little hole here and burrow into it like a hibernating hedgehog, and pretend the world doesn't exist until the seasons have changed.

"I'll get my laptop." Nick doesn't bother with clothes, and Louis is treated to a nice view of Nick's bum as he goes for the door.

In the room by himself, Louis pulls the duvet over his head and muffles his groan into the blankets. It lets out a little of the strain, and when Nick comes back a couple of minutes later, Louis looks perfectly normal, duvet pulled up round him, pillows pulled into a nest behind him.

Nick's got two bottles of beer, a bottle opener, his laptop under his arm, and a big bag of salt and pepper kettle chips. He deposits the laptop on the bed, Louis already reaching for the crisps, and sets about opening both bottles of beer.

"I've got about nine million episodes of The Simpsons on iTunes," Nick says, handing him a beer, "or there's Netflix. Or we could buy something. I think I bought Family Guy and then never watched it."

"Simpsons is good," Louis says. He takes a big gulp of his beer. He probably smells like sex. He makes room under the duvet for Nick anyway, and Nick settles himself against Louis's side, beer in hand, and opens his laptop.

Louis tucks himself into Nick's side, and doesn't say anything for a while.

They watch three episodes of The Simpsons, and Louis tries to put his brain in order.

Later on, they end up eating Chinese takeaway right out of the foil containers, perched at the end of Nick's dining table wearing nothing but hoodies and pants. Pig—sleepy but interested because there's human food—has her own tiny plate of chow mein that Nick tries to persuade Louis never normally happens.

Louis refuses to believe that, because Pig very clearly has Nick wrapped around her finger, but Nick insists that it's true. They have another beer and Louis bumps his toes against Nick's ankle until Nick sneaks his hand under the table and strokes Louis's thigh.

"We could watch a film," Nick suggests, after they've finished the prawn crackers and Louis has considered whether he'll ever be able to move again.

"You don't like films," Louis says, before he realises that will rather give away the fact that he hasn’t ignored Nick's existence for god knows how long, like he's pretended.

Nick raises an eyebrow.

"Shut up," Louis says quickly. "Everyone knows that."

"Right," Nick says, but that's a smirk he's wearing, and Louis takes advantage of the moment to lean over and cover Nick's mouth with his own.

"Shut up," Louis says again, in between kisses. "So what if I sometimes listen to you on the radio."

"So what," Nick agrees, cupping Louis's face in his hand. "Does this mean I have to come and see you play the O2 next week?"

"Not if you don't want to. Wouldn't want to force you or anything."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'll come. You taste like chow mein."

"You'll have to lend me a toothbrush again."

"Think I can stretch to that." It's oddly intimate, kissing over the remains of a Chinese takeaway whilst Pig snoozes at their feet, Louis swimming in one of Nick's hoodies. "So, a film, then?"

They don't even look towards the sofa, heading instead for the bedroom again, Pig sleepily following them as they strip off their hoodies and climb back under the blankets, Pig settling herself right in the middle of the bed at the bottom. Louis feels pink and flushed even though nothing's happened; he's just in a pair of Nick's pants on a Saturday night, curling into Nick's side as they download Guardians of the Galaxy.

"This looks a bit pants," Nick points out, but Louis doesn't much care. He liked it the last time he saw it, and anyway, he doesn't particularly intend on watching much of it anyway. He tucks his feet in between Nick's.

"Stop complaining," Louis says, and maybe he shouldn't wrap an arm around Nick's stomach and tuck himself into Nick's side, but it doesn't feel wrong. It feels sort of like a date now, oddly easy even hanging out in Nick's bed, and Louis perhaps could and should read something into that, but he refuses to. The beginning and end of this is this weekend, and he might as well have fun with it instead of stressing about what comes next. Let's face it; the least intimate thing they've done this weekend is watch Guardians of the Galaxy.

"I'm not complaining, I'm just saying, one of them's green, and another one of them is a fucking skunk."

"Did you just call that raccoon a skunk?"

There's a pause. "No. You clearly just misheard. I said raccoon."

Louis bumps his nose into Nick's chest. "Skunk," he says again, and Nick wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"Shut up."

Louis doesn't. He reaches for his phone instead, almost out of charge on Nick's bedside table, and tweets Rocket the Skunk !! ha ha ya loser . cant tell a skunk from a racoon

It makes no sense, but what the fuck ever. Sometime in the future there's a pretty big likelihood he'll be questioning whether this weekend ever even happened, and there'll be a cryptic tweet just to remind him that it did.

"Oi," Nick says, peering over his shoulder.

"No one will know it's you," Louis says, as the replies and retweets start to mount up.

"It's not like we have either raccoons or skunks," Nick points out, poking Louis in the side. Louis squirms away, and Nick follows him with his stupid long fingers. "Perfectly reasonable mistake."

"Stop tickling me," Louis says, knocking the laptop to one side as he tries to avoid Nick's roaming hands.

"Stop mocking me, then," Nick says, waking up a snoozing Pig by knocking the laptop onto its side. He doesn't stop tickling and Louis fights back, going vicious and trying to tickle back. It doesn't bode well for either Nick's laptop or Pig, but Pig just looks disappointed in them both and jumps off the bed, and the film keeps on playing, even if they'd have to tilt their heads ninety degrees if they were looking anywhere near it. "Hey, stop that."

"Never," Louis says, going for the hips. Nick rewards him by being spectacularly ticklish there and wriggling away, laughing. "A-ha."

"Shut up," Nick manages, trying to skitter away and mostly failing. "You're ticklish too."

Louis keeps going for his hips. He's good at this; he's always been scrappy and fighty and he's fucking excellent at finding and going for weak spots, and it feels like he's found Nick's, because Nick is pink-cheeked and breathless already, and Louis really, really likes how that feels. He ends up flipping Nick onto his back, straddling his legs, pinning his hands with one hand and tickling him with his other. The laptop's still playing the film.

"Stop," Nick begs, trying to free his hands, but he's still laughing and Louis doesn't give up a tickle fight without being declared the winner.

Louis is still tickling even as Nick tries to free his hands. "Tell me I won, then."

"Never." Nick's fighting back, and Louis is not going to stop unless he hears Nick calls him the absolute grand champion.

"I'm the winner," Louis tells him, but Nick's not giving in. He gets one of his hands free and instead of going for a tickle, he reaches for Louis's nipple, and pinches.

Louis goes still. His hand still circles Nick's other wrist. His breath catches. "Do that again."

"What—" Nick says, startled. Louis doesn't give in on a fight. "I've seen you do that to Liam. He's probably done it to you."

"Do it again," Louis insists. He squeezes his hand round Nick's wrist. "Please."

"Let go, then," Nick says, and Louis lets go of his wrist so that Nick can stroke his hands over Louis's stomach and ribs.

Nick touches Louis's nipples with his thumbs, and Louis drags in a ragged breath. He's not an idiot; he knows that he can play with his nipples when he gets off by himself and it helps, but no one else has ever touched them like this before, and it feels like it's going straight to his dick. When Nick pinches both his nipples, Louis's dick gets hard, a tiny tent in his borrowed underwear.


"Your nipples are tiny, too," Nick says, still touching him. "Look how little they are."

Louis's never really considered the size of his nipples before, but Nick's right. They are small.

"Small hands, small nipples, tiny cock," Nick goes on. He pinches again, and Louis hisses in a breath. "Does your tiny cock like this?"

Louis has to nod. It's obvious it does. Well; obvious if Nick can even make out he's hard. It's not like he's got much to show in his underwear.

"Show me," Nick says, and when Louis makes to get off Nick and take his underwear off, Nick shakes his head. "No, just pull your pants down here."

Louis's straddling Nick and it's the wrong angle, but he tugs the pants down anyway, over his dick and his balls. The pants stretch out over his thighs.

"Your tiny cock does like this," Nick says. "Look at it trying to get hard."

"It's trying," Louis agrees, rocking his hips up. How hard he got and how quickly is a surprise even to Louis; he's not a stranger to coming multiple times in a day given the opportunity, but he's never had it from his nipples alone. "Can I touch myself?"

Nick's attention flicks from Louis's dick up to his face and then back down again. "Asking like a good boy," he says. Louis can't keep still at that. His hips buck forward. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Louis says, breathless as Nick pinches his nipples again. "Can I touch?"

"Wank yourself off," Nick tells him, catching his nipples between his fingers and pinching. It hurts but in a way that stings across his skin, heat twisting its way down to his dick. "Like a good boy."

Louis makes a noise at that, but he's obedient. He wanks with two fingers and a thumb, feeling smaller because of it, craving it and not able to fully recognise why. Nick keeps pinching him and Louis has come far too much today; he shouldn't be able to do it again. He needs a fucking shower but he can't even contemplate one; he'd rather stay like this. He's leaking as Nick pinches his nipples again, his nails catching at Louis's skin and Louis can't keep quiet at that. He whines at it, twisting into Nick's touch, coming up off Nick's legs to wank into his fingers.

"Excitable, aren't you?" Nick says. There's enough of a disapproving tone to Nick's voice to make Louis flush.

"Sorry," Louis says automatically, even though he isn't. The shame of wanting more slides across his skin.

"You're not sorry," Nick says, like he can see inside him. "You love being this desperate. If I told you to stop touching, you'd rub one out against my leg, wouldn't you? If I told you to? Even if it made you look desperate."

Louis nods, cheeks flaming. Part of him wants to stop right now and rub his dick against Nick's leg, the shame of humiliating himself crawling over him. He gives into it. "Can I?"

Nick pauses then. "Stop touching," he says. "Naughty boys touch."

God, it's embarrassing. It's so fucking embarrassing. He burns with it.

"Naughty boys get as hard as you do, Louis, with your little dick."

Louis whines. He has no idea if he wants to be good or naughty or both. Maybe Nick will let him be both.

"Rub one off against me. Come on my dick, come on. Show me how desperate you are."

Louis shifts so that his dick's pressed up against Nick's pants. He drops so that his hands are resting either side of Nick's chest; Nick's still touching his nipples. Just stroking his thumbs over them is driving Louis insane. He drags his dick over Nick's underwear, and he knows he's wetting the cotton, the way he's leaking everywhere. He's making such a mess.

"You're going to make such a mess of me, aren't you?" Nick says, nails catching. "Come all over me like a naughty boy."

Louis's helpless. "Yes," he says, and he's almost sobbing with it, rubbing his dick wherever he can get purchase. "So naughty."

"Who's so naughty?"

"I am," Louis manages, burning red. "I'm your naughty boy."

Nick keeps pinching him, and it hurts, but it's almost like it doesn't. It's almost like the sting is something so good that it doesn't register as pain anymore, and Louis hasn't ever done this. Playing with his nipples hasn't ever been anything more than touching them, pinching a bit every now and again, and it's been nothing like this—nothing like the desperate sting that burns across his skin. When Nick's nails catch at the sensitive nub, Louis can't keep quiet, voice hitching as he rubs his dick over Nick's underwear. He's being so messy. He's making such a mess. He can't stop.

"God," Nick says. "If your friends could see you now."

"Don't." Louis is burning red. He doesn't mean stop, though, and when Nick does, he has to shake his head, leaning in to whisper, "Tell me."

Nick kisses his jaw. "Yeah? Dirty boy," he says, stroking his hands up Louis's sides, up to his armpits where Louis's ticklish. "You wouldn’t stop, would you? If your friends walked in and saw you rubbing one off just from having your nipples played with?" He moves his hand back so that he can pinch him again. Louis shakes his head. "Maybe you'd like it," Nick goes on. "Maybe that's what you wish would happen. Everyone to know how dirty you are, and how desperate. Everyone to see your tiny little dick. Is that what you want?"

Louis nods, even as he's fucking his dick against Nick's hip, biting his lip to keep from whining. Fuck knows what Nick's thinking, seeing Louis like this, but the shame of it makes him ever closer to coming.

"Tell me," Nick says, twisting Louis's nipples, and Louis can't help but cry out.

"I want them to see how tiny I am," Louis manages. "How little my dick is. How I can't stop wanking. How I'm so desperate I'm rubbing off against you." Humiliation tears at him, burning him up from the inside out, and it feels so fucking good he doesn't know what to do with himself, other than continue rocking down against Nick's hip, so close to orgasm he can't even consider stopping. "They'd laugh," he goes on. "But I wouldn't stop."

"You couldn't, could you, babe? Such a desperate boy."

Louis wants to cry; he wants to sob with it and drink it all in and keep this feeling inside and never let it go. It's so fucking overwhelming and he feels so much and his whole world has closed down to just him and Nick and nothing else at all, but even that is too much. He squeezes his eyes shut as he comes, pulsing across Nick's underwear and collapsing down on top of him, panting.

"Oh god," Nick's saying. "Louis, babe, fuck. You're so good. You're so fucking good."

Louis shakes his head, his eyes still screwed shut, and won't open them. Nick wraps his arms around Louis's back, one hand in Louis's hair, and it's safe and protected and okay in a way that Louis never knew that he could either want or have, but even that won't make him open his eyes. He sniffs, desperately close to tears, and stays where he is even as it starts to get uncomfortable, laying in the wet patch, Nick's hard dick poking at his thigh.

"Louis," Nick says softly, after a while. He's been stroking his hand up and down Louis's spine, and Louis's only just starting to realise how comforting it feels, even with his pants caught around his thighs. "Louis, babe. You in there?"

"I'm in here," Louis says. He still doesn't open his eyes. "Sorry I came all over you."

"Don't be. It's so hot I don't know what to do with myself."

Louis manages to laugh. He's all clammy and sweaty and covered in come and shame and horror. He opens his eyes but doesn't move.

"Good kind or bad kind?"

"Good kind before, bad kind now," Louis says. "Really ashamed."

Nick doesn't stop stroking him. "What can I do to make you okay?"

"Tell me it's all right?"

Nick kisses the top of his head. "It's all right," he says. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"Apart from the weird shit I get off too and a dick the size of a—well, you know how small it is."

"Don't be ashamed of that. It's a really nice dick."

"Except if you're a size queen."

"Eh," Nick says. "All the more reason not to be."

"Stop being so nice to me. I'm normally horrible to you. I've been horrible to you the last however many times we've seen each other."

"I just thought that was you flirting," Nick says. He reaches for the duvet and pulls it up over them. The film is still playing, weirdly enough, but Louis has no idea where the laptop is. "Wasn't it?"

"No. I mean, yes, of course it was, but like, also, no. Oh, fuck. I fancied you rotten. I was trying to hide it."

"You did that very well indeed," Nick says, patting Louis on the bum and pulling his pants back up. Louis has to shuffle up to get it over his dick. Everything's messy and a bit revolting. When they settle back down, Louis shifts so that he's pressed to Nick's side and can run his fingers through Nick's chest hair. "I almost believed you didn't like me at all."

"Did you?"

"Not really," Nick says, a little apologetically. "But I tried."

"I'm a very good actor," Louis says, burying his nose in Nick's armpit for no good reason at all.

"Yes, you are," Nick says, patting him on the arm. "Do you mind just staying there while I have a wank?"

"Um," Louis says. "All right?"

"Good," Nick says, and puts his hand down his pants.

"Um," Louis says again, pushing down the duvet. "You know I can't see if you're not actually showing me anything, right?"

It's Nick's turn to go pink, which is really very charming in an unusual and—before yesterday—wholly unexpected way. "Wasn't sure you'd want to," he says, which is, quite frankly, stupid.

Louis is still embarrassed from before, and if he stops to think about it for four seconds, he'll be embarrassed about this entire weekend, but right now there isn't anything that could make it more humiliating than it has been already, so he might as well go all out there and put it out in the room. "Are you an actual idiot?" he asks, which isn't the sexiest thing he could have said when Nick is pushing his pants down to his knees and his dick's all there and hard and slick at the tip. "Which part of I like you aren't you getting?"

"Um," Nick says, uncapping the lube on the bedside table and squirting out some onto his palm. He wraps his fist around his dick again. "The part where you like me?"

Louis flicks him in the arm. "You know my secrets," he says. "Think about how many people I share those with, and while you're having a bit of a think, get a move on and show me you having a wank. Please."

"You go from one extreme to the other," Nick points out, which he doesn't sound that bothered about, which is nice because it's the truth.

"This one's more me," Louis says. "But you know that. The other bit's the secret bit. You're the only one who gets that." He's going pink again. It's quite nice, because it rather matches Nick's flush. "Come on, where's this wank I was promised?"

Nick rolls his eyes, wraps his fist around his dick again, and starts to wank.

Nick's got such stupid long legs and ridiculous knobbly knees and all of that chest hair. It's sort of stupid how much Louis really does like him, especially considering that he's spent such a long time telling everyone—himself included—that he doesn't.

"You got hard when I was wanking off," Louis says. "I could feel it. Which bit got you going the most?"

Nick rolls his eyes. "Does this look like the time for a question and answer session?"

"Imagine I'm interviewing you," Louis says. "You get off on being the centre of attention, right? You should love this."

"You're such a brat," Nick says, but he sounds affectionate, which settles inside of Louis like a blanket. "I should lie and just say it was you moving on top of me and that I couldn't help it."

Louis makes a big show of biting Nick's shoulder. He's still embarrassed but he's at the stage where he can box it all up inside his head and put it somewhere he doesn't have to think about it for a while. "Liar," he says. "Tell me the truth."

"I don't know," Nick says. He's using his other hand to cup his balls. Louis can't help but imagine Nick using that little plug that he'd shown Louis earlier; my first anal experience, what the fucking fuck. Maybe he does it here by himself, sheets rucked up and pants pushed down and one hand on his dick. Maybe he rolls onto his side a bit for a better angle and fucks into himself with the little peach plug, biting his lip to keep from crying out, skin flushing. "I like how hot you find this. I like how little your dick is and how you want to be embarrassed and how you go all pink. I really fucking love how pink you get. How you try to keep it quiet and you bite your lip and you blush everywhere. Fuck, you look so hot when you blush."


"You love it," Nick goes on, his hand moving faster on his dick. "You love it and you want all this stuff and you've never had it and I want to give it to you," he says, and Louis's heart is in his throat. "I want to know what turns you on and what makes you go red and what you liked to be called—"

"Good," Louis says. "Call me good."

"I'll call you good boy," Nick tells him, and his hand is almost a blur, the slick of the lube the only sound other than Nick's hurried breathing, and Louis wants this so, so much. "I want to call you names and watch you come. You're so hot when you come, Lou, and you come so much. You want to come so many times and I want you make you come. I want to see how many times I can make you come in a day, see how desperate I can make you."

Louis leans over and covers Nick's mouth with his own, catching his next words against his tongue, Nick panting against his mouth. He kisses him and Nick kisses him back, and the only sign that Nick's about to come is the ragged breath he takes, his head tilting back, his back arching off the bed. He comes in stripes across his chest, and Louis strokes his hand through it, making it as messy as possible, still kissing Nick even though Nick's breathless and panting.

"Now who's the messy boy?" Louis asks, a few minutes later. He sounds just about as smug as he'd like to right now, which is pretty fucking smug.

"You're a giant arse," Nick tells him, pinching his nipple. "And for that, I won't wash your hair in the shower."

"You will," Louis says sunnily, and tugs him out of bed and in the direction of the bathroom.

They shower lazily, Louis poking Nick in the side whenever he can be bothered, Nick smacking him on the arse whenever he goes for the shower gel or the shampoo. All of Nick's toiletries are brands Louis hasn't ever heard of, which is probably because you can't buy normal stuff in Primrose Hill, only stuff that costs the earth and has been made from honey harvested from bees collected at moonlight between April and May, whereas Louis likes the same stuff he's liked for years and he can just get from a normal shop.

"This smells like arse," Louis tells him, when he takes a sniff of Nick's shampoo.

"Well, your hair will smell like the rest of you, then."

Louis shuts him up with a kiss, just because he can't be bothered to fight. Luckily Nick can't be bothered either, so they end up snogging for a bit just because they're both lazy. Louis likes lazy. They only stop when Pig comes into the bathroom and whines a bit about being left out, and clearly Nick is properly under the thumb because he practically leaps out of the shower, despite Louis still being a bit soapy.

He refuses to forgive Nick until Nick's made him a cup of tea, by which point Louis's taken the best place in the bed, the most comfortable pillows, and has located the laptop and restarted the film.

"Is this the same film?" Nick asks, a few minutes in. Pig's curled up next to him, taking definitely more than a third of the bed. "I swear I've never seen this before."

"Definitely the same film," Louis says. "The skunk will show up soon."

"Oi," Nick says, and punches him in the arm.

"Just because some of us are a bit thick."

"I'll have you know I have National Geographic delivered."

"Fat lot of good it's doing you, then," Louis points out, and Nick shuts him up with a kiss.

They don't see a lot of the film the second time around, either, but Louis gets kissed a lot.


When Louis wakes up in the morning, it's still dark outside, and Nick's lying diagonally across the bed. Pig's curled up next to him, and Louis is in the smallest corner of the mattress, with virtually no covers.

It might not actually be morning.

Louis makes a face and pokes Nick in the back until he wakes up.

"What the fuck—"

"You stole all the fucking covers," Louis says. "Look."

"Jesus," Nick says, rubbing at his eyes. "I thought the flat was on fire."

"I thought you cared about your one night stands," Louis says, as sanctimoniously as he can manage. "But instead you fob us off with zero covers and two inches of mattress and call it comfort—"

"You're not a one night stand," Nick says sleepily, lying back down again and hugging his dog. Louis goes very still. "For a start, this is the second night, and I've already had you once before. You're making me do sums in the middle of the night, but even I can add up to three."

"Are there rules for three night stands, then?"

"Yeah," Nick says, closing his eyes again. "We start calling them dates."

"Nick," Louis says.

"Go back to sleep," Nick says. "Before you wake my dog. There's a good boy."

"I don't do what I'm told," Louis tells him, but he really must do, because when he wakes up again, Pig's disappeared and Nick's hugging him, instead, and it's light outside.

He stays where he is this time, and closes his eyes again.


"What time's your lunch thing?" Louis asks, when Nick's sleepily crawls back into bed with a cup of tea for Louis and a cup of coffee for himself.

"Couple of hours or something," Nick says. He drops a box of uncooked chocolate pop tarts on the bed. "Breakfast."

"Really pushing that boat out," Louis says, but he's already breaking into the box, tearing the corner off a packet, and taking a bite. He leans over to kiss the corner of Nick's mouth. He might taste a little crumb-y. "Thanks for the tea."

"Any time." Nick pulls the covers back up over them, and bumps his foot into Louis's. "Hey, so, Pig just caught me doing that baby Groot dance in the kitchen."

Louis blinks. "What?"

Nick puts his arms up and wiggles a bit, almost like he's a baby tree. Louis eyes Nick's cup of coffee warily. The coffee stays quite forcefully in the cup. "She gave me the most long-suffering look, honestly. She's such a judgemental Pig."

"Where is she now?"

"Watching telly. She likes Andrew Marr on a Sunday. Not as much as she loves Sunday Politics, but whatever."

"Pig is not watching the telly."

"She totally is," Nick says, putting his coffee cup down. "Put your tea down. I've distracted the dog, now you can get your arse over here and give us a kiss."

"Saucy," Louis says, but he obediently puts his tea down and straddles Nick, the covers falling down to their laps. They'd slept naked, so Louis's dick bumps up against Nick's. Nick's hands settle on Louis's hips, and Louis rests his elbows on Nick's shoulders. He kisses Nick's cheek. "That what you had in mind?"

"Absolutely," Nick says, sneaking a finger down between Louis's arse cheeks so that Louis wriggles in his lap.

"What are we going to do with a couple of hours, huh?"

"Hmm," Nick says. "I was thinking about you fucking me, if you'd be up for that."

Louis stills. "Nick… I thought you were joking."

"I mean. I wasn't. But we don't have to. I just thought you might want to."

"You won't feel anything. It'll be pointless."

"Do I need to get my first anal experience out again?"

Louis wants to laugh, but he can't. He bumps his nose into Nick's. He's shared too many secrets this weekend, and he can't bear to end it on a low note. The potential for the bad kind of humiliation is too much. "What if you can't feel anything?"

"I will."

"No, really. What if I'm inside you and you have to ask if I'm even there."

Nick's hand is still on Louis's bum. He strokes his finger over Louis's hole, and gently presses the tip inside. "Feel that?" he asks.

Louis shivers. "Course."

"Well then. What makes you think I'm not going to feel your dick?"


"You absolutely don't have to. We can do anything else instead."

Louis's heart is beating heavy in his chest. "I want to," he says. "I want to be inside you. I want you to feel me there. I want you to come cos of me."

"Babe," Nick says, and Louis tries not to shiver at that, even as Nick's touching his mouth to Louis's, "you've already made me come all weekend."

"Cheesy," Louis says, batting Nick's arm away. "How do you want to do this?"

Nick grins, and shifts back on the pillows so that he can pinch Louis's nipple. He slides his hand down between them so he can run the back of his knuckle down Louis's little dick. "Thought I might see if I can get you hard first."

Louis's dick twitches. "What a challenge."

"Shush. You're a monster. Thought I might tease you hard."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Nick says, and he reaches up to cup Louis's face in his hands. "Thought I might kiss you for a bit first, though."

Louis pretends to make a face. "If you must," he says, and lets himself be kissed. It's familiar now, and as easy as it's been all weekend, and that should say something but he can't think about what. In the back of his mind, Nick's lunch plans sit heavy, a finite end point to something lovely, something he might not get again. He can't think about it. He kisses Nick back and slides his hands into Nick's hair, the glory of this being that he can fuck it up and just call it the heat of the moment, and Nick can't complain about it looking like he's got a toilet brush on his head. His dick is perking up, Nick's too, and it's just nice to kiss like this, to get to touch Nick like this and have it be good and easy and hot and fun.

"Lie down," Nick tells him, after a while. Louis's well kissed and neither of them have shaved, so the skin around his mouth feels a little raw. He's happy with a break for a moment, particularly when Nick kneels between Louis's legs and takes Louis's half-hard dick in his mouth.

Louis's toes actually curl, and if he was in any position to do anything other than slide his hands into Nick's hair and groan out loud, he'd mock himself for being such a stereotype, but he can't. He can't get over how good it feels to have a mouth on his dick. To have Nick suck him hard, to have him touch his balls at the same time and stroke a finger back through his legs and then reach up to stroke over his nipples. He's touching Louis everywhere, and Louis loves it. He loves it.

"How's that?" Nick says, sitting back on his heels a minute later.

"Like, on a scale of one to ten?"

"One to ten's a shit scale," Nick says. "What's wrong with a million?"

"Seventeen," Louis says, pondering. "Out of a million."

Nick slaps his thigh. "Oi."

Louis rolls his eyes. "It was good, all right? Really nice."

"Good," Nick says. "You want to give the rest of it a go now?"

Louis is one hundred per cent sure that this is going to go wrong and he's going to end up humiliated, but he's also sure that he can't show any weakness at all. He's done enough of that this weekend. "Course," he says. "Have you got a condom?"

He's not sure he'll even fit in a normal condom, or whether it'll be like putting a baguette in a hold-all, but this is embarrassing enough without bringing other stuff into it. He's had various medicals over the year and it wouldn't even matter anyway, because he's never put his dick anywhere, but that doesn't necessarily mean that Nick wants him to try it bare.

Nick rolls off him and opens the second drawer down in his bedside table again. He comes out with a condom wrapper. "Snug fit," he says.

"You never just had a small condom in your drawer."

"I'm dead fucking lazy," Nick says. "Someone once told me that if you put a condom on your arse toys, you didn't have to bother with much of a clean up, so, you know. There you go."

Louis pokes it a little dubiously. "Is that for my first anal experience?"

"Nah," Nick says. "Well, it is, but it's for the next stage up, basically. I like a range of sizes."

"This is so fucking weird."

Nick blushes. "Look, all right, it's up to you, but I've just had this medical for this insurance for this thing I'm doing for Children in Need—"

"That sounds dubious on a number of levels."

"Mind out of the gutter. Anyway, I am certified free of all communicable diseases."

"I'm sure the world will sleep better tonight knowing that."

"It should," Nick says. "You can use the condom, but, like, if you didn't want to, you know—you don't have to."

"Right," Louis says, staring down at the condom. "Do you mind if we skip out on the condom part?"

Nick's dick actually twitches, which is lovely and amusing and really rather hot.

"I'll take that as a no, then." He pauses. "I'll need lube."

Nick leans back over to the drawer, and comes back out with some fancy stuff in a little bottle that probably costs a hundred times more than fucking Durex Play. "Here you go."

He stays kneeled up in the bed, and Louis, sprawled across the sheets, can see him in the full length mirror by the bathroom door.

"Can we do it like this?" Nick asks.

"So you can see it in the mirror?"

Nick goes bright red. Fuck. Louis clambers up onto his knees and presses himself to Nick's back, one arm around his waist.

"Is this what you like, then? Watching yourself get fucked?"

"Maybe," Nick says quickly, and Louis gives Nick's dick a quick squeeze before going for the lube.

Louis's hand is shaking as he uncaps the lube. He squeezes some out onto his palm, making sure that he's not directly behind Nick so that Nick can see it all in the mirror. There's the occasional upside to five years of photoshoots; he's a lot more aware of positioning and lighting and shot angles than he had been at the beginning. He's used to being on a stage, and he can make do if needs be with the whole world being Nick's bed.

"Your dick," Nick says. "It's so small."

"Yep," Louis says. "Teeny tiny little thing."

"I didn't even know something that small could get hard," Nick says, and Louis will literally never, ever get tired of Nick telling him that. It just makes him so fucking hard. He slicks the lube down the length of his dick, making a big deal of mostly using his finger and thumb, and Nick's watching him the whole time in the mirror, hand around his dick but not wanking off. "Do you reckon it's a third the size of mine?"

They're exaggerating, but Louis doesn't care. The fantasy gets him off. "Maybe a quarter," he says. "Useless little thing."

"Bet you can't fuck me," Nick says, meeting Louis's eyes in the mirror. He's flushed and sexy and naked and hard and turned on by Louis, and turned on by Louis's dick, and Louis has wanted this for so fucking long. He never thought he'd get it. Not ever.

"You probably won't even feel me," Louis says, even though he knows that Nick says he will. The truth sits beneath their fantasy like a blanket.

"I know," Nick says. "You'll be in me and I won't even notice."

Louis shivers, his fingers stilling. Christ.

"Touch me," Nick says. "I'll feel that, at least. Your fingers."

Louis presses himself to Nick's back, sliding a hand down over Nick's skinny arse until he's got one slick finger pressed up against Nick's entrance. He circles him with his fingertips, watching Nick's breath catching in the mirror. He kisses Nick's jaw. "Going to make you come," he says. "Come on my tiny dick."

"Fuck," Nick manages. "Yes. Don't prep me too much."

Louis isn't planning to go much further than the first knuckle on one finger. He reaches for Nick, tilting his chin to the side so that he can kiss him. "Tell me you want this," he whispers, not pulling away. "Tell me you want me."

It's the most humiliating thing he can ask for, and he wants it so fucking much. He wants to be wanted.

"I want you," Nick says. "I want you and I want your dick and I want you to fuck me."

Louis can't breathe. He kisses him again, wanting to lose himself in it for a moment before he has to go further.

"Please," Nick begs. "Please, Louis."

Louis takes his dick in his hand, and lines himself up. He's really not going to be able to push in far. There isn't enough of him. Fuck, he's so fucking small. The head bumps against Nick's hole, and Nick makes a strange, cut-off whimper as Louis pushes inside. He's so little. It's easy. It's barely a press inside and it feels so good, especially when Nick clenches down around him and wraps a hand around his own dick.

"Can you feel me?" Louis asks. "Can you feel me inside?"

"Yeah," Nick says, and he's wanking himself off. "You're so little, babe. Such a little thing."

Louis wants to come and he hasn't even started yet. He moves, not far because there isn't far to go, but enough that he can roll his hips up just a little and feel himself move in Nick.

He hopes that Nick isn't expecting any kind of ability to hold out from him – it's hardly likely, given their weekend, but there's no way he can manage to do better. He hasn't got it in him.


"You're fucking me," Nick says. "Babe."

"I'm going to come," Louis says. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry—"

"You desperate boy," Nick says, and his hand is fast on his dick, pushing back against him, and Louis's sweating with it, his hair sticking to his forehead, breathless. "You can't even hold out."

"I can't," Louis says, his hips snapping. It can't make that much difference to what Nick's feeling; he's too small. "I'm trying but I can't. I'm too desperate."

"I'm close too," Nick says, and Louis can't believe that he is. Not from Louis's little dick. Not from this. Louis is going to come. He's going to come inside of Nick, and it feels so impossible and ridiculous and perfect that he can't help himself.

"Nick," he manages, forehead pressed to Nick's shoulder, hips rolling up, and then he's coming, pulsing inside of him, and he can't fucking breathe.

Louis let his dick slip out, arm wrapped around Nick's waist, watching over his shoulder as Nick wanks off in the mirror. He kisses Nick's neck, breathless, Nick panting as he nears his orgasm.

"Kiss me," Nick begs, and Nick's given him everything he's asked for, all weekend, and Louis will give him anything he wants in return and it still won't be enough.

Louis reaches up and cups Nick's face in his hands, kissing him, catching his breath against his tongue, putting everything he feels into it, a thank you for the whole of the weekend and everything besides.

"Gonna come," Nick says, pulling back, and Louis kisses him again, kisses him even as he's coming, as he's coming all over the sheets and wherever else and he doesn’t stop. He doesn't stop even as Nick's panting against his mouth, kissing him back, his thumbs pressed to Nick's cheeks.

It becomes less urgent after a while, Nick shifting so that they're facing each other. They're messy and sweaty and dirty and the weekend's fucking over, but they don't stop. Louis doesn't stop. He's not sure he could if he tried.

"I meant it, you know," Nick says after a while, forehead pressed to Louis's. "This is a fucking date."

"I know," Louis says, and he does. He slides his hand into Nick's hair. They're so close he can feel Nick's breath against his mouth. He closes his eyes. "Does this mean you might want another one?"

Nick laughs at that, a huff of warmth that Louis catches on his tongue. "Babe," he says. "I'd have another one right now if I could."

Louis tilts his chin up so that his mouth is touching Nick's. It's oddly, beautifully intimate. "You've got a Sunday lunch to get to."

"I know," Nick says. "But if I didn't?"

"Yeah," Louis says softly, and it feels like his chest is expanding with him, opening outwards just to let Nick in. "I'd be up for another date."

Nick rubs his nose against Louis's. "All right. Let's do it."

Louis lets out a breath, and lets himself be kissed.


"What time do you have to be at your friend's?" Louis asks a while later, sinking down onto the sofa in another borrowed pair of tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt. The trousers are too long but Louis will figure that shit out when he leaves.

"Half twelve ish," Nick says, and Louis glances at his watch. It's quarter to one.

"Nick—" Louis says, but Nick is grinning, and now Louis is too, because he can't help it. "You'll be really late."

"I know," Nick says, and he starts to laugh. He reaches for Louis's hand.

Louis's hand is hot and sweaty, but he doesn't pull away. He glances down at his lap instead, blushing, but when he looks up, he can't help but laugh too, Nick's smile wide and bright. "Okay," he says, and somewhere down the road, music's playing.