Louis stares at his reflection, squinting, searching out both the familiar and the foreign. He’s been avoiding mirrors for three days, but this is starting to feel less and less like a temporary thing. And he can’t escape it, the fact that his body is different - he might be able to momentarily forget when he’s surrounded by bandmates and tour crew but that doesn’t make it go away, doesn’t help when he’s alone. He’s still reminded - when he showers and his hands meet unfamiliar territory, when he wees, even when he sleeps (his breasts may be small, but not being used to them makes turning onto his stomach another sharp reminder).
His reflection stares back at him faithfully. It is still his reflection - his eyes, his nose, his mouth - even if his cheekbones are somewhat more defined and his jawline is much softer. Yet, he just finds it hard to reconcile this face with who he is, everything is just a little bit off. There is just enough difference there for his usually boyish face to look a lot more feminine.
He startles when there’s a knock on the door; promptly followed by Harry and Zayn bundling into his room, because of course nothing has changed between them in the past few days to make them believe that they can’t just barge into Louis’ room. If anything, Louis has encouraged them to, thankful for any distraction since management has given orders for him to stay in his room until they know if this can be reversed without the world ever finding out. But Louis feels vulnerable today; naked even though he’s hiding his new curves beneath old jogging bottoms and a football jersey, and he really just wants to be alone.
“Hey!” Harry all but shouts, before he stops abruptly. Louis knows right away that Harry can tell something is off, because you don’t spend months on the road together without learning to read each other like the back of your own hand.
“You okay, Lou?” Harry sounds so concerned, and behind him Zayn looks at a loss for what to do.
Louis doesn’t even know where to start; because of course this body thing sucks but it’s not even that, it’s just this horrible feeling of no longer completely recognising his own reflection. He’s never before realised how much of his identity is tied in with how he looks; everyone wants to believe it’s the inside that counts, don’t they? But even if this is evidently true for the people around him, for Louis himself, it’s a much bigger deal than he wants it to be.
Harry comes up behind Louis, looks at Louis’ reflection as though seeing what Louis sees can help him feel what Louis feels. He just watches, silent, for a few moments, and Louis has to resist the urge to squirm because he feels so exposed. Which is stupid, because it’s Harry. He can see Zayn behind them, settled on the bed and watching the muted TV rather than Louis and Harry, which Louis feels thankful for. Even if he’s sure Zayn is still listening, but that’s okay, he can deal with that.
Harry puts an arm around Louis, urges him closer. Louis is torn for a moment between pulling away and leaning back into the offered warmth. The latter wins out, he thinks it always will with Harry. With all of them, really.
“You’re still gorgeous,” Harry murmurs. He kisses the back of Louis’ neck, the brush of lips soft and familiar.
“What if-” Louis hesitates. “What if I’m stuck like this?”
Harry’s arm tightens around him, comforting and protective. “You’ve still got us,” he says, as if that means everything will be okay. Maybe it does, in Harry’s mind. Harry can still see things in an impossibly simple light. Louis is sometimes envious of that.
“But-” Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off.
“No, hey. It’s not going to be different, is it? Yes, people will write shit and whatever, but they already do, don’t they? And everyone that matters will still be here. It’ll still be us against them.”
Louis wants to protest, because it’s not the same, he’s suddenly sprouted breasts and if this gets out the press will have a field day like no other. But he forces himself to picture it from Harry’s point of view, and he realises that maybe Harry is right. Maybe this would just be another storm they have to weather together.
“I don’t feel like me,” Louis says quietly, without even thinking about it. Which isn’t completely true, but he doesn’t know how else to try to communicate this feeling. It’s sort of like going through puberty all in one night, suddenly waking up in a body that feels awkward and unfamiliar. He doesn’t say that, even though he knows he could say anything to Harry. And to Zayn.
Harry doesn’t say anything to that. He kisses Louis’ shoulder though, brushes his nose against the side of Louis’ neck. Louis turns towards him; he’s done with the mirror, he wants something completely familiar, safe.
Zayn is watching them now, smiles at Louis when Louis looks at him. Louis smiles back. He feels better already somehow, just for having the two of them near.
“Where are Niall and Liam?”
“At that restaurant Niall wanted to try,” Zayn answers. “You want them here? I can call them if you want.”
Louis does, kind of, want them here. But he realises that Harry and Zayn have stayed behind to keep him company, and he can’t really find it in himself to call Liam and Niall back, too. They’ll be fine just the three of them until the others return.
“No, no, don’t do that. Not like they’re off on a trip ‘round the world, right?” He tries to sound chipper, but judging by the way Harry’s grip on him tightens and Zayn smiles sympathetically, he thinks he probably missed the mark.
“Is there anything we can do?” Harry asks, in that tone that carries the subtext of “I’d do anything”.
Louis shrugs. He wants to say that they’re doing enough, just being there, but he isn’t sure if that’s completely true. He thinks he’s past the point now where company can stop him from freaking out about this. Actually seeing himself in the mirror somehow made it more real, makes him doubt that daytime telly and video games will help him ignore it any longer.
Harry rubs a hand up and down his back, before he moves it down to rest on Louis’ bum. He squeezes a little, just enough for Louis to feel, enough for Louis to get it. Louis pulls back a little to look up at Harry. Zayn’s gaze is heavy on them, any pretense of interest in whatever’s on the telly gone.
“You want to?” He slowly realises that Harry has been offering this all along. And he would normally have noticed, but it seems like being out of tune with himself briefly threw him out of tune with the others, too.
“If you want to,” Harry says, and Zayn nods when Louis glances at him. “It might help you feel… you know?”
“I don’t-” he starts, but that’s not really anywhere near what he wants to say. “I mean yes, but I don’t- I haven’t-” And it shouldn’t be this hard, not with Harry and Zayn, but he’s pretty sure he’s blushing. He’s not used to being the one who’s vulnerable.
“Louis,” Harry says, so, so softly, barely even more than a breath against Louis’ forehead. “Just let us?” He adds, halfway between a question and a command.
“Okay,” Louis says, because he needs this, needs their warmth and closeness more than ever. He catches Zayn’s gaze over Harry’s shoulder, before Harry gently tips his head back and kisses him.
The kiss is chaste at first, a mere press of lips, almost hesitant. Harry lets Louis lead, tongues coming into play only once Louis opens up for him. It’s not how Harry usually kisses him; it’s never been about tenderness, but right now, it’s just what Louis needs.
Harry breaks the kiss and turns Louis around to face the mirror again. Louis cringes inwardly, he doesn’t want to be reminded, not right now. Not yet. He lowers his gaze, looks at his feet, which look even smaller than they usually do when framed by Harry’s. Harry splays a warm, steadying hand on Louis' stomach, and whispers, "look".
Louis looks. Harry is watching his face through the mirror, and Louis tries to focus on his face too, on the way his short hair (he kinda wishes his hair could have magically grown, too) frames his softer face. He tries to think of himself as gorgeous, the way Harry apparently still does.
“Good,” Harry says, with an easy smile. He gets his hand under the hem of Louis’ shirt, runs his fingers over Louis’ stomach so lightly that it tickles. Louis squirms, and Harry just grins at him, because Harry has the unique ability to be a complete tosser and ridiculously sweet at the same time. It makes Louis smile involuntary though, which is one point for Harry, really.
“Seriously,” Harry says, sobering again. He pulls Louis’ shirt upwards, fingers leaving a trail of warmth on Louis’ skin.
“I want you to watch,” he says. “I want you to like yourself.”
Louis does watch. He watches Harry bare his breasts. Watches Harry circle a nipple with his finger, watches Harry gently pinch it into hardness, then the same on the other side. Watches Harry kiss the nape of his neck and cup Louis’ breasts - perfect handfuls.
It’s weird. They’ve done it in front of mirrors once or twice before - hotels sometimes have huge ones that offer up opportunities too fantastic to ignore - so Louis knows what this reflection should look like, knows where it’s a little off, even without the added confusion of unfamiliar nerve endings.
And yet his reactions mirror the familiar; the way his mouth falls open on a gasp, the way one girly hand shoots up to grasp at Harry’s arm. The way he leans back into Harry, spreading his legs a little for balance, trusting Harry as easily as he’s always done. He might not know this body, but this body knows him. He’s not quite sure if that’s scary or comforting. Perhaps it’s both; perhaps it’ll be part of the thrill.
“You really haven’t done this yet, have you?” Harry murmurs, one thumb rubbing over a nipple. Louis gasps, and shakes his head.
“Wouldn’t that be the first thing to try,” Zayn pipes up from the bed. Harry grins his agreement.
“It’s not as fantastic when it actually happens to you, thanks ever so much.” Louis’ response kind of loses its bite when Harry pinches his nipple and makes him squeak.
“Oh, we’ll make it fantastic,” Harry says, looking so sincere that Louis can’t doubt him.
Harry dips two fingers under the elastic of Louis’ bottoms, catching Louis’ eye in the mirror to make sure he’s on board. Louis nods at him. He can feel that he’s getting wet just from the attention to his breasts, the feeling of early arousal not entirely unfamiliar. And really, Harry and Zayn do have a point about this; he’s sort of intrigued now, at this chance to experience sex in a different body.
Harry gets his whole hand into Louis’ bottoms, presses it warm and rough against Louis’ pussy. Louis thrusts into his touch; he can’t help it, he needs more.
“Yeah,” Harry breathes against his ear, before he gets his the heel of his hand right up against Louis’ clit.
“Shit, Harry.” Louis closes his eyes, rubs against Harry’s hand. He whines softly when Harry pulls his hand away.
“No, look at yourself, go on.” He puts his hand back even before Louis opens his eyes, sure of Louis’ compliance.
“What’s it feel like?” Comes Zayn’s voice from behind them, and Louis catches sight of him in the mirror again. He’s casually stroking himself through his jeans, watching them intently.
“It’s…” Louis falters. He doesn’t know how to describe this, it’s like an undefinable pressure; kind of like needing a wee and yet not. (And he doesn’t want to prattle on about wee right now, really.)
“Go on,” Harry encourages, getting his thumb right up against Louis’ clit and oh - oh.
“Tingles,” Louis says, because it’s the first word that comes to mind, the only thing he can focus on right now. “And warm, and wet oh fuck.”
“Yeah,” Harry says, “getting so wet. Gonna come for us, aren’t you?” Harry gets one finger inside Louis, then another one, thumb still moving relentlessly against Louis’ clit.
“Harry.” Louis grabs onto Harry’s arm, desperately. “Harry.”
“I got you, look at yourself, Lou, so gorgeous, come on, come on…”
Harry’s babbling is nonsense in his head now really, he can’t focus on anything but the building pressure. But he keeps his eyes on the mirror anyway, sees himself come apart, shuddering, in Harry’s grasp. It’s like he can’t breathe for a second, whole body tensing, pulsing, pulsing… and then the pressure finally eases. He realises that he’s closed his eyes, and he opens them to find Harry smiling at him. The crotch of his bottoms is wet and he looks halfway to debauched; but he actually feels prettier than he has during the past few days.
“Knew you’d be a squirter,” Harry says, almost triumphantly. Louis laughs breathlessly, and Harry promptly shuts him up by sticking two wet fingers into his mouth.
It’s weird tasting himself. It’s not like Louis hasn’t tasted his own come before (he’s pretty sure most people have, at one point), but this is a different taste. One that he doesn’t normally get from another person’s fingers. And oh- there’s a thought.
“Someone needs to go down on me to be quite honest,” he says, because yes, as long as they are exploring this temporary (he still hopes) body of his that’s an experience he’d like to have.
“Sure,” Harry says, turning away from the mirror. “Zayn?” He glances at Louis to make sure it’s alright, and really, Louis isn’t fussed about who’s mouth he’ll be getting.
“Yeah, c'mere,” Zayn says, and Louis steps out of Harry’s embrace - not before accepting a quick kiss - and gets on the bed with Harry close behind him.
Harry and Zayn get Louis undressed together - hands and mouths touching everywhere as they bare his skin - only pulling away to undress each other too as they go. They bat his hands away when he tries to help.
“Sorry, I haven’t-” he says as they get his bottoms off, realizing that he hasn’t even thought about shaving (haven’t wanted to, but now he feels a little self-conscious about it).
Harry kisses his inner thigh, pulls at a few hairs with his teeth. “Don’t worry about it, yeah?”
Zayn murmurs something to the same effect, he has his mouth on Louis’ right breast, lapping at the nipple with his tongue. Louis can't really worry about anything else right now. He lets himself focus on that feeling, because these are the people who have seen him at his absolute worst, so why should he feel self-conscious?
He’s writhing by the time they’re done; ready to beg for it, for Zayn to get his mouth where it really matters. He can feel how wet he is, feel it dripping down between his legs, and he might actually expire if they don’t get anywhere soon, yet he can’t seem to make his mouth form any words, just broken sounds that he hopes might translate into begging.
Zayn takes pity on him either way (maybe he just needs as much as Louis does by now), sliding down Louis’ body. Louis spreads his legs more, lets Zayn settle between them. Harry sits by Louis’ head, Louis gets a hand on Harry’s dick. He needs something to distract him a bit, and Harry doesn’t protest the attention.
Zayn is slow, just blowing warm air over Louis’ clit first, making him shudder; his grip on Harry’s dick tightening a little. He looks down at Zayn, and Zayn is looking up at him. He looks wicked, licking his own lips slowly before he gets his tongue on Louis’ pussy, licks a slow stripe upwards that makes Louis’ toes curl.
“Shit,” Louis breathes, “Oh shit, oh oh.”
Zayn gives him another few slow licks, nosing into Louis’ pubic hair, getting warmed up. Louis feels a brief flash of worry about his hygiene, hoping he doesn’t smell. And then Zayn gets his mouth on Louis’ clit and sort of sucks and licks simultaneously, and Louis can’t really think at all.
“Zayn,” Louis whines. “Zayn.” His hand falls from Harry’s cock, clutching at the sheets instead, he just can’t focus on anything other than what Zayn’s doing. He didn’t expect it to be much different from having your dick sucked at all, but it is quite different, each flick of Zayn’s tongue makes the whole area tingle.
Harry brushes Louis’ fringe out of his eyes, and all Louis can do is smile gratefully at him. Louis is pretty sure he’s about to just float away, it’s just too much, and yet it’s not quite enough.
“Fingers, please, need your fingers,” he tries to reach out for Zayn but ends up clutching air, until Harry catches his hand instead.
Zayn complies, easing up with his mouth a little so he can get two fingers into Louis. Louis thrusts up to meet him, there’s no room to care about being “polite”, just an overwhelming need. Zayn doesn’t complain anyway, just finds the same rhythm Louis sets, fingerfucking him interspersed with light kisses and licks to his clit.
Louis comes quickly like that, with a desperate whine, arching up to get as much of Zayn fingers inside of himself as he can. It’s so, so good but it still doesn’t feel like quite enough.
Zayn’s chuckling when he pulls away, his lips and chin glistening. “Shit, that was wet.”
“Fuck me,” Louis says. “One of you has to fuck me.”
Zayn stops laughing, eyes going wide. Harry’s grip on Louis’ hand tightens. Neither of them say anything for a few minutes. And Louis knows, he knows this is not what they do - it’s making out, handjobs, blowjobs, easy comfort on the road. But this is different isn’t it? And it’s just -
“Are you sure?” Harry asks, his grip on Louis’ hand easing up a little.
“Yes,” Louis replies quickly. He doesn’t need to think about it; he knows that he wants this, and that he wants to share it with them, because he’d trust both of them with his life.
“Okay,” Zayn says. He’s moved up to sit closer to Harry, where Louis can see them both.
“Who do you…?”
Louis looks up at them. There’s a moment when he just feels overwhelmed, because he loves them both so much that it hurts, in ways there aren’t even any words for.
“Zayn,” he says, not letting himself think about it for too long. “But I want - Harry if you -” He doesn’t know what, really, but he needs them both close.
“Yeah. We’ll work something out,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ hand again.
“I got condoms, front pocket.” Louis waves his free hand in the general direction of his suitcase.
Zayn scrambles off the bed to get them. Harry’s grinning at Louis in that way that means nothing (or everything) good could come out of it, and Louis raises an eyebrow at him. Harry says nothing, but brings their hands down to Louis’ pussy, gets him to touch himself.
Louis has been avoiding this, until now. He usually has a wank in the shower, but the past few days he’s skipped over that area entirely; he hasn’t wanted to be reminded of what happened more than he has to. But he lets himself touch now, Harry’s hand hovering above his own as his fingers explore. He’s still wet, so it’s a slick glide over the skin, teasing his clit, dipping his fingers into himself.
Harry reaches for Zayn when he returns, pulling him down for a kiss. Louis watches them, Zayn's giving in easily to Harry, Harry’s hand on his cheek, the kiss hard and demanding. Louis knows exactly how each of them kiss, and Harry’s kisses feel like he can’t taste you fast enough, all lips and tongue and teeth.
Louis is pretty sure he could get off like this, just touching himself while watching Harry and Zayn make out, he’s done it before. Except - except that it doesn’t feel quite right. It’s not like it’s unfamiliar anatomy, but it’s just off from this angle. Besides, what he really needs is for Harry to stop distracting Zayn.
“Come on. Come on.”
“Impatient,” Harry says, grinning and licking his lips obscenely. “He tastes like you.”
“Christ,” Louis sticks his hand out, giving Zayn a pointed look. Zayn actually gets what he wants, coming closer and handing Louis the condom.
Louis is sort of tempted to tease, maybe run his fingers softly all over Zayn’s dick, then shuffle down a bit so he can get his mouth on it. He’s always liked sucking Zayn off, it’s not something he would ever admit out loud but Zayn’s dick is just pretty. And right now Louis wants Zayn to put it to better use, so a blowjob is off the menu (snicker). Maybe tomorrow. Maybe as a thank you. He does kiss the head though, before he gives Zayn a few rough tugs and rolls the condom onto him.
“On your side.” Harry pushes a little at Louis’ shoulder to get him to move. “If you go behind him, yeah Zayn?”
Louis rolls over, he isn’t going to argue at this point, as long as Harry’s idea ends in him getting fucked. He’s pretty sure it will, since Zayn’s soon behind him, kissing Louis’ neck and grinding against his arse. Louis shifts a little, tries to get Zayn’s dick in between his legs instead, and Zayn seems to get the message because he moves just enough for it to work, and -
“Oh. Shit, do that again.”
Zayn chuckles softly against Louis’ neck. “Yeah? Thought you wanted to get proper fucked like.”
Louis curses himself because now Zayn’s just thrusting in between his legs, his dick making a wet slide over Louis’ pussy. The friction is delicious, but so not enough, and Zayn has gotten a few fingers in Louis’ mouth so he can’t even complain. Or beg.
“Maybe we should make him come like this first,” Zayn says over his shoulder to Harry, who apparently got distracted from his plans and is just watching them.
“Could make him come a few times.” Harry moves around them so he can look Louis in the eye as he continues. “Then you can fuck him when he’s proper sensitive and begging for it.”
Louis shakes his head, tongue working against Zayn’s fingers. Harry grins at him, laying down and shuffling close to his front. He gets his fingers on Louis’ clit, and kisses the corner of Louis’ mouth where his lips catch Zayn’s fingers as well.
“Let him talk, Zayn.”
“Please,” Louis can hear the desperation leak through to his voice. “Please, please…”
“Please what, Louis?” Harry’s voice is stupidly level, and he kisses Louis’ cheek.
“Please.” Louis can’t find any other words, and he doesn’t really know what he’s begging for. He’ll come like this for them if they want, he’ll do anything, and-
And then Harry reaches down with his free hand so he can guide Zayn’s cock. Louis shifts his hips to make the angle a bit easier - Zayn won’t get very deep like this - but with Harry still working his clit Louis doubts it’s going to matter.
“Shit,” Zayn breathes, panting against Louis’ shoulder as he pushes in. He thrusts a few times experimentally, Harry’s hand still there to guide when he pulls back too far and falls out, and then he finds a rhythm of shallow trusts that Louis isn’t going to disagree with.
Harry’s good with his hands - just the right amount of pressure - matching Zayn’s slow rhythm. Louis feels his orgasm build quicker than expected, but he doesn’t try to control it. He comes quietly this time, the edge of desperation gone for now. Harry gets a hand around the base of Zayn’s cock, tells him not to come yet, gets him to hold still for a moment.
His clit is more sensitive after coming. Zayn’s shallow fucks into him don’t feel so different, but Harry’s fingers do, and for a moment it’s almost like he can only feel his clit. And he thinks he’s going to come again, and he thinks maybe he does, unless it’s just an aftershock. He kind of loses himself in that feeling, and he must come a few more times because the sheets are getting wet under his hip. Zayn’s whining into his shoulder, and Louis realises that he’s pleading again, in amongst broken, high pitched sounds.
“Shhhh, we got you love,” Harry murmurs, kissing Louis’ forehead.
Then Harry’s working one long finger into him beside Zayn’s dick, and it’s almost too much - definitely too much for Zayn who comes, biting Louis’ shoulder. Harry doesn’t let up even as Louis climaxes, again, and it’s really overwhelming now; he can't focus on anything. He's shaking and it feels like every touch of Harry’s fingers is reverberating through his whole body.
“One more, come on,” Harry’s murmuring, as Zayn reaches over Louis to wank Harry against Louis’ leg.
Harry comes quickly, with that distinctive little whine that Louis really loves. Louis isn’t sure if he actually comes again, at this stage everything is just wet and sensation and he can’t stop trembling. Harry holds him, shushes him with words and kisses while Zayn gets rid of the condom and gets some tissues to clean them up a little.
“S’wet,” Louis manages, when he actually gets the ability to speak back. He’s not quite got the ability to move though, is the problem, and the cooling damp spot beneath him is less than comfortable.
Harry laughs, because Harry’s a bastard like that (it’s his fault, after all, that Louis is laying in a puddle in the first place), but then he moves Louis to the dry side of the bed so Louis can’t stay mad at him.
“You’re still a bastard.” Louis informs him, anyway.
Harry laughs. “Too bad, was going to go down on you after we have a nap.”
Louis makes a noncommittal noise. “Empty threats. C’mere, cuddle.”
Harry just grins before he complies. Zayn gets the duvet over them before he lies behind Louis again. He doesn’t say anything, but he kisses Louis' shoulder in the spot where Louis is pretty sure he has marks from Zayn’s teeth now.
Later, Louis doesn’t avoid the bathroom mirror before his shower. He looks himself straight in the eyes instead, and tells himself that he’s beautiful no matter what. He almost believes it.