The thing about Louis is that he’s so prim and proper but he’s also so fucking filthy, kinky as the London Underground and too reckless for his own good once he gets going. And Nick is more than fine with that. In fact, he thinks vaguely- too much blood pulsing in his cock for his thoughts to be anything near coherent- he’s a little in love with that side of Louis.
His hands are shaking a bit, smearing the obscene red pigment a smidge too high on Louis’ top lip- and Louis is just watching him, eyes hooded and hazed over, breathing in soft hot little puffs on Nick’s fingers where he’s doing his best to apply the lipstick evenly. He gets it done as best he can, and christ, it should look ridiculous, it really should-
But Louis' got this look in his eyes that tells Nick he's about to fucking wreck him and nothing has ever looked less funny than Louis right at this moment.
"So...?" Louis prompts, and Nick can't tear his eyes away from the way his lips move, the way the lipstick makes the skin a bit sticky so they sort of pull at each other- Nick's fucked a girl before. He knows what Louis' mouth looks like right now, swollen and bright with this added slow, hot drag, shiny and wet.
Louis doesn't take Nick's stunned silence quite as well as Nick intended.
"God, I look like a fucking idiot, don't I?" He groans, dropping his face into his hands, nearly knocking his glasses off, and scrubbing at his mouth with the heels of his palms. Nick's brain finally shifts into regular speed and he lunges forward, grabbing both of Louis' wrists in one hand, tugging his hands away from his mouth. And jesus
"You've smeared it," is what Nick means to say. It really, really is.
What he actually does say is, "Gonna fuck you." Which is not his best line, probably, but Louis Tomlinson has this absolutely filthy makeup smeared around his lips and it looks like someone's just fucked his mouth properly and Nick can't really focus on spouting his usual snarky hipster bullshit.
Louis' eyes flash, and Nick can actually see his pupils engulf the blue until there's nearly none left.
"Yeah?" Louis asks, squirming a bit the way he does when he gets hard too quickly and his stomach flips. In answer, Nick reaches out, cupping Louis' delicately stubbled jaw in his hand and sweeping his thumb around the outline of Louis' lips, intending to clean him up a bit but just creating more of a mess. He doesn't mind much.
Especially when Louis parts his lips, flicks his tongue out and just barely brushes the tip of Nick's thumb. Nick's fairly sure his heart actually stops beating for a moment, but then it jumps into overtime when Louis sucks Nick's thumb into his mouth, lapping at the pad with the flat of his tongue. He slides from the bed, settling on his knees between Nick's legs and looking up at him through those damned lashed, sliding his lips over Nick's thumb and leaving a smudgy red ring.
"Did I tell you I've a surprise for you?" Louis asks, eyes locked with Nick's even as his hands work their way up Nick's thighs, pinching and teasing and so tiny.
"Besides the lipstick?" Nick hopes his voice sounds at least halfway decent to Louis, because in his own ears he sounds like a horny whining teenager. The smirk on Louis' face makes Nick think he probably hears himself perfectly well.
"Mmhmm," Louis hums, nuzzling his face against Nicks plaid pajama bottoms. "If you're a good boy, I'll show you."
And it's absolutely ridiculous, it really is, that this twenty year old is holding something over his head and telling him to be a good boy. But what's even worse is the fact that Nick is so fucking gone for him, he just grins and says,
"I'd really like to see it, please." Even says please like a trained schoolboy.
Louis grips Nick's thighs, pulling himself to his feet. He's still so close, tucked inside the wall of Nick's legs, and if he wanted to, Nick could lean forward and place a teasing bite on his nipple. And he does want to. So he does.
Louis hisses, swats him away, says, "That's not very nice at all!" and Nick has to fake being ashamed of himself, tries to hide his sly smile when he says, "I'll behave," because he most certainly won't and they both know it. But Louis has the good grace to pretend to believe him, or maybe he's just too excited about showing Nick his present.
He steps back so Nick can get a full view of him, bare chest and golden skin and compact, tight muscles- and then Louis is hooking his fingers into the waistband of his flannel sweats, shimmying them down his hips and oh
He kicks the sweats away, crosses his arms over his belly like he's a bit self-conscious (and he's Louis fucking Tomlinson and he is self-conscious which is the craziest thing Nick's ever heard in his entire life), and peeks up at Nick through his lashes and fringe and glasses. And Nick's off the bed in an instant because he's got to get his hands all over those white-lace boyshorts before he fucking explodes.
They fit so snugly that Louis' dick is pressed against his belly, showing a bit over the top of the panties, and Nick wants to focus on that but he knows- he knows- he will die right this exact second if he doesn't see Louis' arse.
"Give us a spin," he commands, hands resting lightly on Louis' hips, fingers tracing the intricate lace patterns lightly. He's pleased that his voice sounds low and maybe a bit gruff and sexy, instead of completely shaken.
Louis does, spinning in the circle of Nick's arms until his ass is pressed against the swell in Nick's plaids.
"Jesus," Nick says.
"I know," says Louis, sounding duly smug.
It's a work of art if Nick's ever seen one (and he has- art is one of his Things). The lace Does Things to the perfect curve of Louis' bum; hell, the lace Does Things to Nick. He's positively aching for it. And Louis is so small and warm and solid against him, tilting his head back against Nick's shoulder and smiling up at him. And that Does Things, as well.
"C'mere, you," Nick growls, meaning to pull Louis back on the bed and fuck his brains out. Louis darts out of his grasp (and god, the way the muscles in his thighs shift in the low light), leaving Nick to fall back into bed by himself. Nick looks thoroughly put out until Louis smiles primly, says, "Have to show you the best part."
Nick can't even come up with a guess as to what it is. Louis turns gracefully on the balls of his feet and drapes his body in half, wrapping his hands around his ankles and blinking up at Nick from between his own calves.
"Fuck," Nick says.
"I know," says Louis, grinning so brightly he's practically giving off heat.
Nick swallows, eyes locked on the decided lack of lace over the center of Louis' ass, mind racing a thousand miles a minute over Implications. Louis cheeks are turning red from all the blood rushing to his face, and he looks adorable and fuckable.
"C'mere," Nick demands, waving imperiously for Louis to come. He half expects resistance, but Louis twists and drops to his knees, crawling forward, and, well, that's certainly an image to store for later. He licks his lips, reaching up and brushing his fingertips over the freckles on Nick's cheeks- he likes them quite a bit.
"I'd like to suck you a bit- just to see what it's like with the-" he can't quite say lipstick, still feels a bit silly. But Nick nods enthusiastically, reaching down to shove his pajama bottoms off and throw them somewhere behind the bed. Louis seems to appreciate the enthusiasm, blushing prettily and touching his own lips with a fingertip, drawing it away to look at the stain left by the makeup. Then he rests his hands in Nick's hips, kneading a bit, and bites little kisses onto the insides of Nick's thighs, alternating between them, poking his tongue out to leave little wet patches.
"Tease," Nick mutters, but Louis is fairly set on what he's doing and doesn't pay much attention. He's close- so close, tongue barely an atom away from one of Nick's balls- when he pauses, blinks up at Nick as if he's just had an idea. Nick prides himself on being patient enough to wait the full fifteen seconds before Louis voices his thought.
"Want you to finger me while I blow you," he says, already rocking to his feet. Nick likes the idea a lot, so he almost breaks his neck trying to get the lube from the bedside table. Louis is giggling at him, and he looks lovely- pink-cheeked, red-lipped, thick-thighed, and those fucking lace pants- Nick wants them inscribed on his tombstone.
He lays on his back, feels anticipatory goosebumps break out across his skin when Louis crawls down his body, grins at Nick upside down and wriggles his eyebrows like an idiot. But then he's running his tongue up the length of Nick's dick, and Nick's hands are shaking a bit as he flips the cap on the lube and slides the stuff over his fingers.
Louis doesn't like fingers- he doesn't like feeling the bones and he doesn't like the way they bend. Louis likes cock, though, so he puts up with the fingers. Some nights he even puts on a good show of enjoying them- and tonight's one of those nights. He moans around Nick, the vibrations traveling straight up Nick's spine and knocking something funny in his brain because all he can think is, fuck, I love you. He gets two fingers in, strains his neck to watch Louis and god there's this mix of red gunk and precum and spit on Nick's cock and Louis' mouth and it should look disgusting but it just doesn't. Nick's eyes are crossing with every swipe of Louis' tongue, and he can feel Louis' thighs quivering on either side of his head, so when Louis pulls off him with a gasp, whines, "Now, please?" Nick is right there with him.
"Get how you'd like it," Nick says, sliding out from under Louis, but Louis stays where he is, on knees and elbows, biting at his too-red lips. Nick is quite proud of himself for not passing out when Louis reaches back and slaps his own ass, tagging the band of the lace panties up a bit higher.
"Nick, please," he says, wiggling his hips, and that's all it takes. Nick nearly falls on his face trying to shuffle to the middle of the bed on his knees, but he makes it and then there's this sight- something Jesus must've doodled in the Bible somewhere because Nick can't think of any other reason that book's made it through the ages. Louis Tomlinson on his hands and knees, lace and slick skin, and the way he's looking back over his shoulder and his mouth-
"Hurry!" he snaps, pushing back impatiently against Nick, and Nick would laugh if he was completely sure he wasn't about to cry. He runs a hand down Louis' spine, relishing the smoothness of his skin and the thick rolling muscle in his back, and he lines himself up and he pushes in.
Louis lets out a breath- sounds like he's been holding it in since he was born- and nearly falls boneless against the mattress, but Nick grabs his hips, twisting his fingers into the lace, to keep him up.
"Alright, love?" he asks, voice a bit tight. It's taking a lot of effort not to rut him into the bed.
Louis purrs, rolling his shoulders in this perfectly devilish way, watching Nick from the corner of his eye from where his face is pressed into the comforter. And Nick thinks, oh, that's how he wants it, because it's not as if they've never fucked before- definitely not. So he scratches his fingernails up the length of Louis' back once, making him tremble and squeeze his eyes shut, and the grips his shoulders tightly.
"Got yourself in hand, babe?"
Louis nods emphatically, already stroking himself with the lace pushed down beneath his cock. Nick squeezes his shoulders once more, and then truly sets to fucking him through the mattress. There are streaks of red on Nick's grey sheets from Louis biting the covers, but Nick can't be fucked with that right now. He's driving in hard, nearly breathless, but the need to fuck Louis senseless is apparently a bit more important than breathing. Understandable, Nick thinks. He's probably biased.
He's biting his own lip so hard he's surprised it's still attached to his face, and he's raked his fingernails over Louis back so many times that there's barely in inch of untouched skin left- and then he can feel it, feel Louis' entire body tightening, ready to snap- he bends forward, changes his angle, his thighs hurt so much but the pain barely registers over the absolute bliss of-
of licking hot over Louis' earlobe, whispering, "Come on, love, I've got you, come on," and hearing that broken little sob, feeling the shiver hit Louis from head to foot as he comes and, god, that sound and that shaking is all Nick's been waiting for- he nearly tears the lace off of Louis' body with his final erratic thrusts, feels rather than sees lights explode behind his eyes, swears in a completely fucked-out voice.
They collapse, filthy and overheated and exhausted. Nick rolls onto his side to face Louis, and Louis' already grinning at him, sleepy but smug.
"Kinky little bastard," Nick groans, and if he could move his fucking arms he might smother him with a pillow. As it is, he settles for smiling back at him. They can always try smothering later- Louis' probably into it.