Liam’s got his hands stuck in his pockets and is waiting for Harry to finish his long-winded story about the banana he ate for lunch. Or maybe he’s telling a joke. Liam had stopped listening about ten seconds in, if he’s being honest with himself. He rocks back on his heels and glances over to where Louis is supposed to be setting up his mic stand, only to find Louis staring fixedly at him.
At his crotch, to be more exact.
Liam flushes as Louis’ gaze snaps up to meet his and he tries to surreptitiously adjust himself through his pockets before tugging his shirt down. He coughs and turns to look back at Harry and Niall on his other side. His cock takes an immediate interest in the heat he saw in Louis’ eyes and Liam tries to visualize something - anything - that will help his erection go away. His sixth form homeroom teacher naked; when he’d woken up a few months ago and found that Ralph had had an accident on the bathroom floor by stepping in it; the way his socks in his gym bag smelt.
A warm weight plasters itself against his back and he stumbles forward a bit before catching himself. Louis’ arms snake around his chest to hold him in place, and his breath is hot and warm against Liam’s ear as he murmurs softly, “Was thinking about how you looked earlier today.”
It’s suddenly hard to swallow and Liam is pretty sure he can feel a flush creeping its way up from his collar. Louis stays pressed up against him and Liam can’t decide if he wants to stay where he is or sprint backstage and hide.
“You looked so pretty this morning,” Louis continues, apparently unphased by Liam’s startled inaction. “I love the way your dick looks with my hand wrapped around it. So pretty.”
There is no air in his lungs, and he can feel a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. His cock is fully hard now, trapped up against his flies, and he’d be surprised if the girls in the front row weren’t aware of how massively turned on he is. He has to move, laugh, twist around so he can face Louis and jab a pinch at a nipple before dancing away. Niall’s introducing the next song, and it’s - he has no idea. Focus. He has to focus on something that isn’t Louis and his sly grin and how hard he is and how much he wants to snog Louis senseless right here on stage.
Somehow he makes it through the song, and the next one, but he’s on autopilot, flipping his mic and smiling and waving at the crowd while all he can think about is how Louis thinks his dick looks pretty. He keeps glancing over at Louis and every single time Louis is looking at him with that smile on his face. He feels lightheaded, and is pretty sure all of the blood in his body is in his dick. His whole body is hot, his face and chest and back probably bright red and covered in sweat. There’s no chance for him to change, and it’s one song until they’re off stage and Liam can find a spare closet to lock himself in for the two minutes it’s going to take to get himself off.
The last big crescendo of Drag Me Down blares and then they’re saying thank you’s to the crowd and bowing and blowing kisses. He stays on stage the smallest amount of time possible to do so and not look like a huge asshole, and then books it backstage. Someone is standing waiting with a towel and a bottle of water and he grabs both while flashing a smile and continuing his hurried walk. He’s sure there was a closet just down… yes, there it is, just off of the main hall. And open, he finds as he tries the handle.
He’s just about to hit the lock when the door flies open behind him and Louis barrels in, pushing him back and shoving him up against the wall. There’s a click of the door locking and then Louis’ hands are on his belt, tugging his jeans open, and someone - maybe him but he can’t bring himself to care - is making a low whining sound.
“Need to see you,” Louis whispers harshly, shoving Liam’s pants down and wrapping his fingers around Liam’s already-leaking cock. Louis’ mouth finds his and they kiss messily for a minute as Louis strokes him rapidly. Those two minutes may have been an ambitious over-estimation.
“Fuck, Liam,” growls Louis, his thumb swiping over the head of Liam’s cock. “You look so good. Looked so nice on stage. I could tell you were thinking about it.”
Liam groans and tightens his fists in Louis’ t-shirt. His breathing is ragged, and the only other sounds in the tiny space are the slide of flesh-on-flesh as Louis brings him off. He comes with a bitten-off shout and can feel his body relax all the way down into his toes.
They pant heavily into each other’s mouths for a moment until Louis gathers himself and kisses Liam’s bottom lip softly, running his tongue over it before biting down. Liam inhales sharply and pulls Louis to him so he can thread his fingers into his hair. They trade kisses slowly, shifting until Liam can get a leg between Louis’ and grind up into him. Louis ruts himself against his thigh until he comes with a quiet whine that Liam swallows down.
It’s quiet for a minute as they pull themselves back together. Louis smiles up at Liam through his eyelashes and gently fondles his softened cock, cupping his sack and squeezing softly. He thinks that if he hadn’t just come so hard after being ridiculously aroused for so long that he might be able to go for round two, but as it is all he wants to do is melt into the wall.
Louis tucks him back into his pants and kisses his jaw. “I meant it you know. You do have a very pretty dick.”
Liam groans softly and kisses Louis to try and get him to shush. It works, but only for a moment.
“I knew it was gonna be pretty the first time I saw your hands,” he says, pulling Liam’s hand from his face so that he can properly look at it. “You’ve such nice fingers, I just thought, “I bet his dick looks nice as well”, and, well, obviously I was right.”
“You can’t tell what someone’s dick looks like from their hands,” grumbles Liam, pulling his hands from Louis’ and doing up his jeans. They’ve both got wet stains on their crotches, but their pants are dark and they always sweat a lot on stage, so maybe no one will notice. Hopefully.
Louis just grins at him and bites his jaw.