Harry’s hand is heavy on the small of Louis’ back, pushing until Louis steps into the lift, his back against the wall with Harry’s shoulders obstructing his view outside into the hotel reception and further to the entrance where an onslaught of fans are being held back only by flimsy aluminum barricades. Louis frowns, sighing, and Harry swipes his VIP key over the reader, punches in their floor number, then finally turns around to face Louis.
His brows are drawn together, nostrils slightly flared, face flushed. His musky, deep scent is quickly filling up the small space in a way that makes Louis unsteady and lean against the wall, inhaling sharply. He shivers, embarrassed when he realizes he’s getting slick already, and blinks up at Harry, who’s staring back down at him, those bloody three inches that Louis hates so much suddenly seeming like a entire head separating them.
Harry smirks a little, the corner of his mouth drawing up. “Yeah?” he says and Louis glares at him, shifting uncomfortably, but finally nods. There is no point denying something that Harry must already know - that he probably knew from the very moment he had Louis up on the kitchen counter in the bus, his hips wedged between Louis’ thighs, kissing even as the glasses rattled in the cupboards.
“Almost,” Louis says; he looks down and shifts again, holding back a moan when his underwear and tight jeans create friction over his dick and hole. He can hear Harry exhale, swallow loudly, and when he flicks his gaze down a little, sees the outline of Harry’s cock curving in his jeans.
If his scent is any indication, he’s going to have Louis on his knees the second they enter his hotel room - always Harry’s hotel room, always - and Louis knows that Harry can smell him as well, can sense that that’s exactly what he wants.
He bites his lip and rolls his shoulders, looking up again. “Probably in a few hours,” he says.
“I can already feel it,” Harry says but before he can continue the lift pings arrival and the doors slide open to reveal immaculate red velvet floors leading down a long corridor. He grabs Louis’ arm to lead him outside, and Louis winces when he takes the first step, feeling his slick spread and soak up in his underwear.
“Two-Oh-One.” He repeats it, scanning the widely spaced doors to their right, seemingly getting tenser with every door they pass. Louis can feel it as well - he wants out of his clothes already and wrap himself up in Harry, until his entire world is nothing but Harry’s earthy alpha scent.
His heat and Harry’s rut have never coincided before - and Louis has never actually seen an alpha go into rut. Harry’s presence is intoxicating, powerful, his hand on Louis’ arm feels hot and when he finally finds his room and ushers Louis inside, Louis welcomes being able to breathe for a moment while Harry toes off his shoes and tosses his bag into a chair in the corner.
Louis flicks the light on and, braced against the wall, takes off his own shoes, moaning again when he shifts, trying to swallow the sound before Harry can hear it. He takes off his T-shirt, moving to take off his jeans too, but Harry’s hands find his waist, pull him close.
“Fuck,” Harry growls, “fuck, I can smell you. I’ve never smelled you like that before.” He leans in and nuzzles Louis’ neck, sliding his hands from Louis’ waist to his ass, squeezing, and Louis instinctively leans up, tiptoeing backwards, his neck exposed for Harry to suck a lovebite into.
He’s a bit pushy, claiming, and Louis wants to make a joke about it, play it down like he always does when Harry gets like this, because it’s not like they’re dating, it’s not like they’re mated, it’s instinct and the two of them being the only ones carrying the gene in the band, really, but a second later he’s tripping backwards onto the bed, Harry crawling over him and kissing the words from his lips. Louis arches up and spreads his legs, and Harry settles between them, rutting against him. He’s hard enough for Louis to feel it against his own cock through both their jeans, and when he draws back, his eyes are so dark they’re almost black.
“You wet?” he asks and Louis nods frantically, trying to get a hand between them to undo his flies. He manages after a moment, whining, wiggling out of his jeans with Harry braced on his arms over him, watching.
“Ah,” he presses out, kicking them off, and rubs his hand over his dick through his underwear, up to where the head is wet, and then down again between his legs. He’s moist, soaked through, and he mewls, tilting his legs open and rubs two fingers over his hole through his briefs, then rides up against his hand.
Harry is still watching him, lips slightly parted, and Louis rubs his fingers in a bit more, shivering, feels himself get even slicker, feels himself clench. There is a rush of heat that sneaks up the focal point of his spine in a sinuous curve that encompasses his entire body and pulls him in; he’s never felt the moment of his heat blossoming quite like this before, so aware of it with how turned on he already is, and he tilts his head back, trying to find the leg opening of his briefs, aching to shove his fingers inside himself.
“No, no, no,” he hears Harry whisper hoarsely on top of him, and suddenly Harry’s hand is on his wrist, stopping him, pulling his hand up. He nuzzles at it and Louis blinks his eyes open, tries to say something, tell Harry off for being a fucking tease, but then Harry licks at his fingers, licks Louis’ first wet off his fingers, sucks them into his mouth like it’s the most delicious thing in the world.
Louis whimpers and feels another wave rise up in him and die down, cock twitching; he doesn’t come, though, needs more stimuli than that, even in heat, and what he most needs right now, is something to fill him up.
It’s like Harry can read it on his face - or smell it, probably - because he pulls away and sits back to take his shirt off, revealing the wide expanse of his tattooed chest. With his skin exposed, Louis’ senses are overloaded and he turns his head and hides his face in the duvet, feeling his hips roll up, wanton and needy. He usually is susceptible to Harry’s scent, something in their DNA-makeup matching up, but this is almost too much. It must, the barely logical part of his brain reasons, be because of rut, because of heat, because of both, and he can’t help but blindly fumble for Harry’s cock and attempt to one-handedly undo his flies.
“Lou,” Harry grits out; he nuzzles Louis’ neck again, bites him, his breath hot and moist against Louis’ skin, and then growls low in his throat when Louis manages to unbutton his jeans. He sneaks his hand inside and wraps his fingers around Harry’s cock that is so swollen and huge that Louis can barely capture it in the circle of his fingers.
“Fuck,” he manages and Harry bites him again, more harshly, teeth digging in. “Harry, I’m- I’ve got to-” He can’t seem to finish a sentence and it embarrasses him more than it should because Harry has seen him like this before, has helped him through it, fucked him through it more than once, but Louis feels more raw for some odd reason, like this is entirely new.
He whimpers and wiggles his arse against the bed, rutting against it until his underwear starts bunching up, and Harry grabs the waistband and pulls it down over Louis’ hips. He drops his forehead against Louis’ chest, cursing, his fingers digging into Louis’ thigh, spreading him open more, and Louis buries his fingers in his curls, hissing. Harry tenses against him and then shifts up until his clothed crotch presses between Louis’ legs, where he knows he’s wet and leaking slick, so ready for Harry’s cock.
He tugs at Harry’s hair until he can kiss him and Harry hungrily licks into his mouth, biting at his lips like he wants to mark those up, too. Louis wants to put up a fight, make Harry work for it like he usually does, even when he’s begging for it with his arse in the air and Harry’s fingers buried deep, but his entire body feels like it’s on fire, like he’s withering away without whatever Harry can give him.
They break apart, saliva connecting their mouths momentarily and Louis huffs out a moan, cupping Harry’s head in both his hands, staring up. “I need-” he starts and rolls his hips up until his calves strain, toes curling against the duvet.
“Yeah.” Harry’s voice is hoarse and deep, rough, much like what it gets like after sex, and his hips twitch, which sends a shiver of delicious anticipation through Louis.
“Gonna fuck you,” Harry continues and Louis mewls in response, parting his lips, mouth watering. He feels himself get more wet, slick dripping down his thighs, and makes another desperate noise, rubbing his crotch up against where he knows Harry’s cock must be painfully hard.
“Do something, just, fuck-” he breathes out and Harry kisses him again, sucking at his lips until Louis feels like he’s going to break from how much he’s shaking with the need to get off already, to have Harry inside him. “Please-”
Harry grabs his right leg and hitches it up, then - fucking finally - trails his hand down and rubs three fingers over Louis’ hole. Louis breaks away, breathing hard, and chokes on his voice when Harry pushes them inside without much warning, his body moving against Louis’ in time with his fingers as though he’s already fucking him.
“You’re so wet, Lou,” Harry moans. “You’re so fucking wet, you’ve never been this wet before.” He presses in more deeply and Louis shivers, eyes widening; his body contracts and he feels himself cling to Harry’s fingers for one painful moment, before he sobs out a moan and comes, spurting over his stomach. It lasts forever and Harry fucks him through it, just his fingers, Louis’ hole tightening around them again in another wave.
He whites out, loses sensation in his hands and toes, his vision suddenly filled with his erratic breathing; when he comes to again, Harry is pulling out and taking off his jeans and underwear. Louis blinks up at him and Harry crawls back over him, covering Louis’ body with his own, his cock snug between Louis’ cheeks.
“‘s not all, huh? So wet and needy for my knot,” he says roughly and Louis shakes his head, vision swimming; he spreads his legs until his knees hit the bed, making a pleading noise.
“Yeah,” he moans. “Yeah, fuck, yeah-” He closes his eyes, body pulsing and aching for it even though he knows it’s just talk. Harry has never knotted him before; they’re always safe and careful no matter how much Louis ends up begging.
“I’m gonna-” Harry starts, but doesn’t finish. He reaches down and wraps his hand around his own cock, fitting its head against Louis’ hole, and sinks in slowly. He’s bigger than usual, and Louis hisses, meeting him to make it easier. For a moment it feels like Harry won’t fit and Louis groans, gripping at Harry’s arm, and then cries out when he finally buries himself with one last thrust.
Harry sits back, slides his hands up Louis’ thighs, and rocks back inside; the sensation teases another orgasm from Louis. It creeps up his body almost unexpectedly, until he trembles and comes again, feeling his cock drip over his stomach. He breathes out a moan, voice breaking, shivering, his body moving on its own, pure instinct, reacting to Harry’s.
He’s still hard when Harry pulls back only to thrust into him again, the thick head of his cock stretching Louis’ hole, and another tremor passes through him. He whimpers and reaches down to touch where Harry’s cock presses in, wanting to touch where it opens him up. He’s all wet and dripping slick around it, and Harry feels huge.
Harry falters for a moment, head hung low and hair obstructing his face, and makes a sound like he’s hurt, strained and desperate. Louis croaks his name in response and feels his cock twitch again when he pulls away, his hand brushing over his balls.
Harry tenses and picks up the rhythm again, hips snapping into Louis, his face now flushed and red, mouth open, sweat gathering along his collarbone and his tattoos, skin shiny. He ducks down and Louis opens up into the kiss, moaning, trying to keep up. Against his fingers Harry’s shoulder, back, flank are hot and it’s like he’s melting into him, sucked up into Harry’s heat and the pace he’s building until he’s dizzy, building up to something bigger.
Harry grunts, traces his wet lips over Louis’ chin, and pulls back again, eyes huge. He’s straining, fucking into Louis so hard Louis feels like he’s going to split open, and he knows Harry is about to knot, can feel it with every fibre of his body that needs it, wants it, like it’s thirsty for it, his hole clenching tightly even when more slick eases the way.
He parts his lips but finds his throat too dry to speak, and then Harry says, “Louis, Lou, I need-” He stops himself, squeezes his eyes shut and groans, before pressing out, “I’m gonna knot you, I have to come inside you-”
“Oh god, yes,” Louis breathes, tightening his grip on Harry’s arm, hips jerking to meet Harry’s thrusts at the thought of Harry filling him up.
“I’m- fuck- I need to mate you- I wanna-” Harry hisses and Louis knows he shouldn’t let him, but he can’t say no because he needs it, because his body is screaming for it like it’s on fire.
“Fill you up- breed you-” Harry stops and goes quiet, mouth going slack. His cock tangibly twitches inside Louis and Louis feels it unfold and knot, anchoring Harry inside of him. He bites his lip when he feels Harry’s orgasm hit, his body like a wire, and feels him spill inside, wave after wave, Harry’s cock pulsing.
“Harry- Harry-” Louis arches up a and buries his hands in the hair at the back of Harry’s neck, clinging tightly. “It’s- oh god- I can feel you-”
Harry’s lips move and he exhales, like in relief, eyes blank for a split second. He shifts closer, nudging his knot more deeply into Louis until it rubs just right again, and Louis sobs out, nerves long past their limit, hot spikes piercing him, his cock barely dribbling over his stomach, his body aching.
Harry makes a soft sound and sits them up without much effort, easily and gently seating Louis in his lap onto his knot. He wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and pulls him in, and Louis drops his head against his shoulder, sighing softly.
He feels over-sensitive and every time Harry moves, his body grapples for another orgasm even though he finally feels utterly and completely spent. He turns his head a little, nosing against Harry’s neck and inhaling his scent, noting how it’s changed, less feral now, deeper and more mossy.
“You smell so good,” he croaks and Harry tightens his hold on him, squeezing gently. He presses a kiss to the side of Louis’ head, his cock twitching inside of Louis again.
“You smell good,” Harry says. His voice is blown to hell and Louis smiles and bites his neck.
“You’re filling me up good, huh?” He shifts again, feeling Harry inside of him, his knot huge and wide and stretching him.
Harry laughs hoarsely and thrusts up weakly, evoking nothing but a soft moan from Louis, and Louis awkwardly grabs one of his hands and leads it to his tummy, pressing it down against it. He pulls back, watching both their hands on his stomach against which his cock is still lying half hard, pink and wet.
Harry presses down a little and Louis ‘ah’s, feeling Harry’s dick inside of him. “I’m mating you,” Harry says, rubbing his thumb in a circle that sends tiny shocks up Louis’ body. “You’re mine now-” He kisses Louis’ neck which Louis offers, breathless, biting Louis and leaving another mark. “Making you all full of me, making you smell like me, all mine.”
Louis arches up more, his hole, his nipples, fingers, every part of his body suddenly tingly again. “I am-” he breathes, “I am yours.”
They lie awake afterwards, curled up together and talking, for a while after Harry’s knot has shrunk enough for him to pull out. He doesn’t seem to want to let go of Louis and - while he’s always had a fascination with Louis’ hole as most alphas do - he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself now, pressing in with his fingers between kisses and little chats, as if he wants to make sure it stays loose and wet and open. He teases another orgasm from Louis like that, with just his fingers, which leaves Louis shaking and begging, and when they fall asleep he presses against Harry, not wanting to let go either.
Hours later, having slept through most of the day, Harry fucks Louis again after licking him out in the spacious shower. His tongue is wet and soft and Louis realizes how raw he must be, so sensitive to every little touch he can feel his slick drip down his thighs. He curls his fists against the tile and lets Harry handle his leg up and thrust in, knot almost immediately, spilling inside him with Louis’ body taut and caught in a continuous orgasm that comes and goes, swelling and dying down until he feels lightheaded.
It doesn’t last as long as the first time, barely five minutes; they collapse against each other, kissing and touching, and Harry runs them a bath and washes Louis, nuzzling his belly, with Louis’ fingers tangled in his hair.
They tumble back to bed, legs, arms entwined as they fall asleep. Drifting off, Louis can smell himself on Harry, and he pulls him closer and gently mumbles into his ear, “Mine.”