Louis was sick of listening to rich people’s conversations. It was the worst part of his job. There was actually a bloke here talking about how a million dollars “wasn’t actually that much anymore” and Louis wanted to tell him it was fucking shitloads to most people, but he needed not to get fired so no.
And the job was all right, most of the time. It was better than working at Toys R Us, that was for fucking sure. So he shouldn’t complain. It was just the people. The people were frequently total knobheads.
Right now he was waiting next to the on-deck shower and holding a stack of towels. Because they couldn’t be expected to just take a towel from a pile like a normal person, no. Rich people had to have towels handed to them. In fact, a fuck of a lot of Louis’ job was basically being some sort of living storage unit or side table. Or shelf. Total bullshit.
But being on a yacht made a difference. And being in the Caribbean made a huge difference. For the first sixteen years of his life Louis had never even left Doncaster. And for the next two he only ever made it as far as Manchester or Sheffield or Leeds. So St Barts was… something. Not that he’d seen much of it yet - he hadn’t worked enough to accrue a day off yet. But when he did, he was getting as far away from the yacht as possible and hitting whichever beach the locals went to. Assuming there were still locals and the rich fuckers hadn’t had them all cleared out.
“Louis!” he heard Liam hiss.
He looked over his shoulder, but there was no one there.
“Louis!” he heard again.
He glanced up to see Liam leaning over the railing of the deck above. He had that “What the fuck?!” look on his face and gestured with his head towards the shower. Which was when Louis realised he’d been staring out at the sparkling blue water and daydreaming, when he should’ve been staring at the shower and the steps down to the water and anticipating some rich fucker’s every need. Shit.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, already anticipating the bollocking he’d get if Liam mentioned this to their boss, Ben. He looked over at the shower and, well. Shit.
The rich fucker wasn’t waiting for a towel, looking at Louis like he was a piece of shit or - somehow worse - like he didn’t see him at all. The rich fucker was standing under the shower, head tipped back, water streaming over his skin. And his skin was covered in tattoos. He had his back to Louis, but Louis could see at least three on the back of his left arm. He lifted his arms and pulled something out of his dark hair, before running his fingers through it and letting it fall down his back. Which it did. Halfway down his back. The water ran down it and dripped onto the small of his back and… He was wearing white shorts. Which were now almost transparent. Louis licked his lips and shook his head. Who even was this guy? He would’ve remembered if he’d seen him on board already, he was sure. Had they picked up more people? Liam never said.
The guy in the shower turned slightly - his head still under the water, his eyes closed - and Louis saw his face, and the rest of his body, for the first time. He looked… pretty, Louis thought. Really pretty. With full lips and an incredible jawline and-- Why the fuck was he looking at this guy’s jawline when he was wearing see-through shorts? Louis dragged his eyes down the boy’s chest - more tattoos: birds, a butterfly, leaves? - and right to his crotch, where his dick was clearly outlined by the wet white cotton.
“Fuck,” Louis breathed, pressing the heel of his hand against his own dick, which was absolutely showing more than a passing interest. Fortunately the navy blue tailored uniform shorts were a lot less revealing than those ridiculous white things. Louis dragged his eyes back up to the guy’s treasure trail, which was gleaming with droplets of water, up past the tattoos - the butterfly was huge - stretching across his belly almost to his nipples, which were looking pretty perky thanks to the water - and back to his face, which was… shit. His eyes were open and he was staring straight at Louis.
“Hey,” he said.
His voice was deeper than Louis had expected. Louis opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He couldn’t believe this guy had basically stood there and watched as Louis eye-fucked him. If he reported it then Louis would be--
“Shit!” Louis said, thrusting a towel out towards the guy. And he’d said shit. That right there was a sackable offence. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to… say that.”
“S’alright,” the guy said, taking the towel. “I’m a big boy.”
Louis tried really really hard (and he really really wished he hadn’t thought of that since his dick was caught uncomfortably against the waistband of his underpants) not to glance back down at the guy’s crotch, but he failed. Miserably. When he looked back up again, the guy was still staring at him, and he was grinning.
“Sorry,” Louis said again. He wasn’t one for apologising usually, but this entire encounter was an absolute disaster.
“No problem,” the boy said and rubbed his face with the towel, before leaning forward and wrapping it round his hair like a turban. He flipped back up and grinned at Louis.
“I’m Harry,” he said.
With the hair covered - Louis couldn’t believe he’d done a towel turban, he’d have to consider that later - and with Louis forcing himself not to look below this Harry’s chin, Louis was free to focus on his face. And it was a really good face. Full, pink, lips. A dimple - a fucking dimple. And green eyes. Proper green eyes. That were staring right at him and sort of twinkling and--
“Oh fuck!” Louis said. “Shit. Louis. Sorry.”
Harry laughed and Louis wanted to record his laugh and use it as his ringtone. What the fuck.
“Good to meet you, Fuck Shit Louis,” Harry said. And then he turned and walked inside the cabin.
For a few seconds - more than a few seconds - Louis could barely remember where he was or what he was supposed to be doing. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, which was hot from the late morning sun. He grabbed the metal rail with both hands and bent down, stretching out his shoulders and back, which seemed to be suddenly stiff. With embarrassment? Louis didn’t embarrass easily, but he had to admit he’d made a right dick of himself. Stiff. And dick. That was something else he needed to address. He turned and looked up at the upper deck - Liam had gone, thank god. He really didn’t need anyone to have witnessed that ridiculous display. He closed his eyes briefly, but immediately just pictured the outline of Harry’s dick again. And his thighs. He hadn’t had time to really focus on his thighs, but they were… they were good thighs. Another tattoo on one of them as well. Louis briefly pictured himself licking the water off the butterfly on Harry’s stomach and heard himself let out a sound. Sort of like a whimper. But it couldn’t be a fucking whimper, that would be ridiculous. He turned towards the stairs, his pristine white plimsolls squeaking against the polished wood of the deck, and tried to look composed and in control. He just needed to get downstairs without bumping into anyone and everything would be fine.
Louis was halfway down the stairs when he saw Ben heading up.
“Everything ok?” Ben asked, barely glancing at Louis as he passed him.
“Yeah, good. Did we, um, did we pick up more passengers?”
Ben stopped and glanced distractedly at Louis, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah. Last night. Didn’t Liam tell you? Family of three. English.”
“Right,” Louis said. “Thanks.”
And if that was more interest than Louis had shown in any of the guests since the day he’d started the job, Ben didn’t seem to notice.
Ben carried on up the stairs and Louis carried on down and it was only when he was locked in a staff toilet cubicle, that he let himself relax. A bit. He put the seat down and sat, stretching his legs out in front of him and tipping his head back to roll his neck. What the fuck. He hadn’t got laid for too long, that was clearly the problem. He never usually reacted like this to hot guys. But then he wasn’t usually introduced to guys as hot as Harry while they were under running water and wearing transparent white shorts.
Louis’ brain flashed on Harry’s dick again and he knew there was no way he was getting out of this bathroom without dealing with his own dick. He undid his zip and reached inside his boxer briefs. He was still almost fully hard and he knew it wouldn’t take long to get himself off. Thank god. The last thing he needed was Liam coming looking for him. Now was not a good time to think about Liam.
Instead, as Louis stroked his cock, he pictured Harry in the shower, head tipped back, water running over his face and down his chest, Louis on his knees in front of him, running his mouth along Harry’s dick through his ridiculous white shorts. His hand moved faster as he imagined the sounds Harry would make, in that deep voice of his. Harry saying his name, one hand pushed into Louis’ hair as he fucked his hips up, forcing his dick deeper down Louis’ throat. With his other hand, Louis pushed his polo shirt up - he couldn’t afford to get come on it - and brushed a thumb across his left nipple. Harry’s nipples. And that butterfly tattoo. He wanted to bite it. And then come on it. He pictured Harry on his back, Louis kneeling either side of his waist. Harry groaning as his dick bumped up against Louis’ arse and Louis coming on the butterfly and--
He bit his wrist as he came, hard, all over his hand.
Louis couldn’t understand why he hadn’t seen Harry at all for the rest of the day. The boat was big - it was fucking huge, in fact - but usually he would see all of the passengers, whether they were relaxing in the lounge (and calling for drinks), or the hot tub (and calling for drinks), or just hanging out on the deck (and calling for drinks) (Louis was a pretty big drinker himself, but even he was shocked by how much rich people could put away). And while it was probably best that he didn’t see Harry - he didn’t want a repeat of the morning’s embarrassment (although he did enjoy the orgasm) - he just really wanted to.
Now it was evening and Louis was almost off-duty and planning a movie night with his best mate, Niall, who was the one who’d got him this job in the first place.
Evening was Louis’ favourite time on the boat. The guests were usually chilled from a day of sun (and drinking) and even the staff started to relax a bit. Even Liam. And the Caribbean was incredibly beautiful at this time of day, the sky turning peachy, the water denim blue. And it was still warm, but not so warm that Louis had to worry about sweating through his polo shirt.
This evening there was a drinks party on the main deck and Louis headed there now, stopping to tidy cushions on the loungers and pick up the odd stray tumbler or water bottle. When he made it to the deck, there were already quite a few guests there - milling about and talking, drinks in hand - but Louis saw Harry straight away. It was partly because Louis had been low-key (or so he told himself) looking for him all day, but it was mostly because Harry was wearing a bright red floral shirt. His hair was down and it wasn’t as long as it had looked wet in the shower, but it was lovely, curling past his shoulders. As Louis stared, Harry ran a hand through it and then petted at the right side where Louis could see a huge ringlet. He wanted to put it in his mouth. And what the fuck was he even thinking?
“Y’all right?” a voice said right in Louis’ ear.
Louis started, before turning to see Niall grinning at him. “Wanker,” Louis said under his breath.
“You love me,” Niall said. “Who you staring at?”
“Fuck off,” Louis said. “I wasn’t.”
Niall looked across the deck to where Harry was standing, leaning on the rail and pointing out at something. The light evening breeze was blowing his hair back off his face, showing off his profile and that ridiculous jawline. Louis dragged his eyes away to see where Harry was pointing, but couldn’t see anything interesting. Just the endless water.
“His name’s Harry,” Niall said.
“I know,” Louis said. “He introduced himself earlier.”
“You can’t do anything,” Niall said, his mouth right next to Louis’ ear. “You’ll get fired. And then I’ll have to quit out of loyalty. And then we’re both fucked.”
“I’m not going to do anything,” Louis muttered. “I mean. Look at him.”
Niall moved so he was standing directly in front of Louis and stared into his friend’s eyes. “Are you… Have you found someone you don’t think you could shag?” He put the back of his hand up to his forehead and pretended to swoon.
“I didn’t say I couldn’t shag him, dickhead,” Louis said, casually shoving Niall out of the way cos he was blocking his view. “I just mean he’s, you know, a guest.”
“Wait. You’re being ethical?”
Louis snorted. “No. But they’re all fuckers, aren’t they? Rich fuckers.”
Niall rolled his eyes. “Your back must be killing you with that chip on your shoulder. I talked to him a bit earlier. He’s a good lad.”
Louis found that he wanted to ask what they’d talked about. In fact, he wanted to say ‘Did he mention me?’ even though a) Niall would have told him if he had and b) why the fuck would he? He was losing it. He’d probably had too much sun. Should ask Ben about wearing a hat.
Louis’ plan had been to stay as far away from Harry as possible - which was pretty far, this deck spanned the entire width of the yacht - while also watching him and storing up images for his wank bank. It wasn’t Louis’ coolest idea ever, but needs must.
But then Liam caught up with Louis on one of his trips back to the bar and told him to take over from him in the sunken lounge area which was of course - of course - exactly where Harry was sitting. Louis lurked around the outside of the seating area, picking up empty glasses and discarded cocktail sticks and trying really hard not to look at Harry in case he started staring. Or got hard again. That would not be good.
Harry was sitting with four other people, all older than him - two men and two women. One of the women smiled widely at Louis as he took her empty glass and he knew instantly she had to be Harry’s mum - exact same smile, dimples and everything.
“Thanks,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. And while that didn’t seem like much, it hadn’t actually happened all that often since Louis had started this job, so Louis grinned back, rather than give her the terse nod he was used to doing.
Louis knew immediately it was Harry saying his name. His deep, slow voice was distinctive. Also no one else here knew his name.
“Can I help?” Louis said, straightening up and looking across at Harry. Who was leaning back on the sofa, his elbows on cushions behind him, his long legs stretched out in front. He was barefoot and he actually had words tattooed on his feet, Louis hadn’t noticed that earlier, he couldn’t see what they said. And he really wanted to know. He also hadn’t noticed - because Harry had been surrounded by people up on the deck - that he was wearing shorts that matched his shirt. Silky red floral shorts. Jesus Christ. Louis filed that away and marked it ‘URGENT’.
Harry shuffled back on the seat so he was sitting up straight and said, “Um, yeah. Is there any way we could get a jug of Margaritas? My mum was just saying she fancied one. And if we don’t get her one, she’s going to start singing some Status Quo song and no one wants that.” He grinned and Louis grinned back. He was starting to feel like he might’ve been hasty with the “rich fucker” thing - this guy was the politest guest he’d come across so far. (‘Come across,’ Louis thought. And filed away.)
“That won’t be a problem,” Louis said. “Can I get you anything else? Nibbles?” He felt like an idiot saying ‘nibbles’ but that’s what Ben insisted they say. God.
Harry’s mum leaned forward now, her hand on Louis’ elbow and he turned to look at her.
“Are there any crisps?” she said. “All of these fancy hors d'oeuvres are lovely, of course…” She lowered her voice as if she was sharing a secret. “But I really want some proper crisps.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Louis said.
Louis didn’t even bother checking the kitchen - he knew there were no proper crisps in there - but he’d brought some with him. He headed back to his room, telling himself that he’d do the same for any other guest. Any other guest who asked him politely, who looked him in the eyes and smiled. It wasn’t just because it was Harry’s mum. Of course it wasn’t.
In his room, he pulled his suitcase out from under his bed and unzipped it. He shoved a box of Yorkshire Gold Tea out of the way and tucked a few packets of biscuits and Tuc crackers behind it, before pulling out a family bag of Ready Salted Walkers crisps. A tube of Paprika Pringles rolled towards him so he grabbed them too and made his way back to the kitchen, once again hoping not to bump into anyone and have to explain himself. He’d only met Harry this morning and this was the second time he found himself sneaking round the ship trying to hide something. At least this time it wasn’t an erection. Yet.
In the bar, he emptied the crisps into two bowls and made his way back up on deck. In the lounge area, Harry was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, staring at his phone. His mum was leaning against the bearded guy next to her and holding up her phone to take a selfie.
“Louis!” she said, as Louis put the crisps down on the table in front of her.
“Ready Salted,” he said, “and Paprika Pringles.”
“You,” she said, pointing at him. “Are an absolute angel.”
Louis glanced at Harry, who looked up from his phone and smiled at Louis.
“Can you have a drink, sweetheart?” his mum asked Louis.
Louis shook his head. “No. Sorry. But thank you for asking.”
“Oh go on,” she said. “If anyone asks, I’ll say I made you do it.”
Louis glanced up at the higher decks where Liam was often found lurking. He wasn’t there, but Louis knew full well that even if this woman said it was ok, he’d be in deep shit if he drank on duty. With a guest.
“I really can’t,” he said. “And actually I’m done for the day now.” He wasn’t supposed to tell guests that either, but fuck it, these people had been nice to him, why shouldn’t he have a normal human conversation? As long as neither Liam nor Ben heard him. “But I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Hot date?” the woman asked, her eyes twinkling much in the way Harry’s had when he’d caught Louis staring earlier. Louis’ eyes flickered to Harry now and he found Harry staring straight back at him, his brow furrowed, his mouth slightly open.
“No no,” Louis said. “Just going to watch a movie with a mate. I’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy the crisps. And the rest of your evening.”
“Thank you, Louis,” the woman said. “I’m Anne, by the way. And this is Robin.” She gestured at the man with the beard. “You’ve met Harry, right?”
Louis nodded. “We met earlier.” He pictured Harry in the shower again and, shit, he really had to go.
“Thanks again, Louis,” Anne said. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“No problem,” Louis said. “Goodnight.”
As he made his way back up the deck, he heard Anne start to sing ‘Let’s have a drink! It’s Margarita Time’ and then Harry and Robin’s laughter.
“What the fuck?” Louis hissed directly into Niall’s ear.
“What?” Niall said, giving him the innocent face that Louis had seen work on teachers and so many girls at school, but hadn’t worked on Louis for years. If ever.
“You know fucking what,” Louis said.
Niall’s cousin who’d got him the job was lying on the top bunk and their friend Eoghan was sat on the floor, leaning back against the double bottom bunk. Between the two of them was Harry, leaning back against the wall, still in the red floral shorts, with his legs stretched out in front of him. One of his huge hands was wrapped around a bottle of Corona, the other seemed to be holding a joint.
“Heyyyyy,” he said, smiling over at Louis.
“Don’t blame me,” Niall said. “He asked.”
“What?!” Louis said, too loudly, but Niall had already flopped down on the floor next to Eoghan. The only remaining space was next to Harry. On a double bed. Or Louis could just leave. That would definitely be the sensible thing to do. Harry was a guest. In staff quarters. With alcohol and a joint. There were so many things wrong with this picture that Louis didn’t even know where to begin. But he looked at Harry’s hands and Harry’s legs, remembered the water running down Harry’s skin in the shower earlier, and said “Fuck it.”
He still kicked Niall in the side of the head as he climbed over him though.
“Thanks for letting me come,” Harry said, leaning over to talk to Niall. “My mum and stepdad are great, but I was starting to get a bit…” He blew out a breath. “You know?”
“I know, mate,” Niall said. “Only so many conversations about house prices and Coronation Street I can take meself.”
Harry laughed. “Nah. They’re not like that. They’re great. I just…” He let the sentence drift off as he tipped his head back against the wall and finished his beer.
Louis watched his throat move and wondered what it would taste like. He could lean over right now, crawl across Niall’s bed, drop himself down onto Harry’s lap and just… lick it. Except he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. Harry tipped his head forward, looked straight at Louis, and Louis lost his breath.
“So what are watching?” Eoghan said, turning to glance back at Louis.
Louis jerked his head back so fast, he hit in on the porthole. He saw Harry’s mouth twist in amusement. Fucker.
“A proper film, like?” Martin asked from above them. “Not porn.”
“I don’t think we’re all into the same kind of porn, mate,” Niall told him.
“Ah fuck, yeah,” Martin said. “Forgot. Soz, Louis.”
Louis couldn’t help looking over at Harry who was staring back at him, his eyes dark. He leaned forward, holding out the joint. Louis took it.
“Me next,” Niall said, reaching round to tap Louis on the ankle.
“Is that a tattoo?” Harry asked, pointing.
Louis passed the joint onto Niall and twisted his leg to look down at his own foot. “Yeah.”
“Triangle,” Harry said. “S’nice.”
“Thanks. How many have you got?”
“M’not sure,” Harry said. “Like… fifty?”
Niall cackled. “You been in prison?”
“I just like them,” Harry said. “Like how they look, how they feel. I like to, like, commemorate things on myself.”
“That’s cool,” Niall said.
“Have you got any?” Harry asked him.
“Nah, mate. Too chicken. But Lou’s got a few.”
Harry looked back at Louis, who’d got the joint back from Niall and was about to pass it up to Martin.
“What else have you got?” Harry said. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Lou pulled the neck of his t-shirt down to show Harry the ‘It Is What It Is’ that linked his collarbones. It was his favourite. The only one of his tattoos he’d actually put a lot of thought into, the rest had been done on a whim or drunk with the lads. A stickman skateboarding. A cup of tea. A football. They were all pretty shit.
When he looked back at Harry, Harry was staring down at his chest. Louis felt something blooming in his belly. Harry could be gay. The way he was looking at him, he definitely could be gay.
“Wolf of Wall Street?” Eoghan said.
“Fuck off, I’m not watching that again,” Niall said.
“Have you only got Leonardo DiCaprio films?” Martin said. “Maybe Louis’s not the only gay.”
“The only gay?!” Louis said, faux-outraged.
“I like Titanic,” Harry said.
“We’re not watching that on a fucking yacht,” Niall cackled.
“Oh yeah,” Harry said, covering his face with his hands as he laughed.
Louis liked his laugh.
“Inception,” Eoghan said.
“Have you seriously only got DiCaprio films?” Martin asked.
“Have I fuck. But Inception’s fucking awesome.”
“That’ll do then,” Niall said. “Get it on.”
Eoghan lit another spliff after they’d finished the first and by the end of the film, Louis was feeling loose and giggly and happy. He’d moved around on the bed to get a better view of Eoghan’s laptop screen and more than once his leg had brushed against Harry’s, goosebumps rushing over his skin, his belly curling with nerves. He’d tried to stay focussed on the screen, but he couldn’t resist sneaking glances at Harry whenever he thought he could get away with it. More than once, he’d found Harry looking back at him, a flush rising on his cheeks.
He wondered what it would be like if the others weren’t there. If he and Harry would have just moved incrementally closer til they were pressed up against each other’s sides. And then what?
“I was too stoned for that,” Niall said, when the film finished. “It’s messed with my head.”
Eoghan yawned loudly, stretching his arms over his head and gestured at Louis and Harry. “Right. You two can fuck off now.”
“Charming,” Niall said. “You know Harry’s a guest, right? He can get you fired.”
“I would never--” Harry started to say, but Niall just laughed and shoved his shoulder. “I know. You’re sound. Have y’had a good night?”
Harry nodded. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Louis still didn’t know how that had come about, but sometimes with Niall it was easier not to ask.
Harry uncurled himself from the bed, his long legs stretching past Louis’s. He pushed his feet into flip flops and stood up, tripping slightly over Eoghan.
Louis got up too and followed Harry across the small room. They were both leaving and the others were staying. He and Harry were leaving. Together. Just the two of them. As Harry opened the door, Louis turned back to look at Niall, who grinned and gave him a thumbs up.
“Fuck off,” Louis said, just as Harry turned and said, “Thanks, guys. Have a good night.”
He was so not a rich fucker, Louis thought. But Louis really wanted to fuck him.
“So this is going to sound stupid,” Harry said, as the cabin door closed behind the two of them. “But I’m not sure where I am exactly. Like… how do I get back to my room?”
Louis squinted. Was that a line? It sounded like a line.
“I can walk you back,” he said, shrugging.
“So how long have--” Harry said, as they headed down the corridor.
Louis shushed him. “You’re not supposed to be down here.”
“Shit,” Harry whispered. “Sorry.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence and Louis tried to tell himself it would be fine if Harry just went into his cabin and closed the door and Louis could go back to his own room and bed. It would actually be better, because then there was no chance of him getting caught and fired. But he didn’t really believe it. He wanted Harry. He wanted Harry to want him.
It wasn’t completely dark when they got up on deck, but the ship’s lights were low enough that you could see the stars and the moon glinting on the water. Instead of turning towards the state rooms where Louis knew Harry was staying, they both headed over to the railings. Louis gripped the cool metal with both hands. He had no idea what he was doing.
Harry asked Louis how long he’d been working on the yacht, where he was from, if he had siblings, what his parents did. Louis answered everything while trying not to freak out about the fact that they were standing side by side in the dark. Louis could slide his hand across the rail and touch his little finger to Harry’s little finger and then what would happen?
“What about you?” Louis asked instead. “Your parents seem great.”
“They are. It’s their anniversary. That’s why we’re here.”
“Your mum’s really nice,” Louis said. “Like… she totally treated me like a person, which is actually pretty unusual for guests, no offence.”
“Us rich fuckers, you mean?” Harry turned and grinned.
“Oh what the fuck?!” Louis howled, appalled.
“Niall told me.” Harry was still grinning.
“I’m going to kill him,” Louis said. “I’ve been threatening to for years, but I’m really going to have to do it this time, god.” He stepped back from the railing and stretched his arms out, dropping his head down and feeling the pull across his shoulders. Seriously. Niall was so dead.
“Can I ask you something?” Harry said.
Louis thought his voice cracked a little, but it might have been his imagination.
“This morning…” Harry continued. “Were you… watching me shower.”
Louis felt his breath catch in his chest. He straightened up, but didn’t, couldn’t, look at Harry. “God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. We, um, we have to watch so we know when to offer a towel.”
“Yeah?” Harry said. “That’s why?”
“That’s why.” Louis was gripping the railing so hard it was hurting his hands. “I’m a professional.”
Harry let out a bark of laughter so sudden and loud that Louis turned to look at him, despite his embarrassment. Harry looked so different when he laughed like this - goofy and young, rather than intimidatingly hot. Louis liked it.
“I may have looked a bit more than was strictly necessary,” Louis admitted.
“I liked it,” Harry said.
“What?” Louis felt like his heart was pounding out of his chest.
“I liked you watching me.” Harry said slowly, still staring.
“Yeah?” Louis croaked. He looked back out at the sea and tried to focus on the waves, rather than the situation in his sweats.
“What were you thinking?” Harry said. He moved one hand along the railing, his little finger brushing against Louis’.
Louis stared down at it. He wanted to pull it away. He wanted to run back to his room and jerk off until he passed out. But he wanted Harry - and whatever Harry wanted - even more.
“I was thinking…” Louis started. He took a jagged breath, closed his eyes, thought ‘fuck it’. “I was thinking about getting my mouth on you.”
He heard Harry huff out a breath and for a second he was scared that he’d somehow totally misread the conversation, that Harry was about to call him a pervert, freak out, have him fired.
“I was thinking about that too,” Harry said, his voice low.
“Fucking hell, Harry,” Louis said. He turned then and found Harry was staring at him, his mouth slightly open, his eyes dark.
“Come back to my room?” Harry said.
“Yeah,” Louis said. “Fuck. Yeah.”
Harry’s long fingers wrapped around Louis’ wrist and he pulled his hand away from the railing. Louis let himself be pulled. Harry’s cabin wasn’t far, just at the end of the deck they were standing on now, but they had to go inside. Once again, Louis found himself praying no one would see him, but of course, everyone else should be asleep.
Harry opened the door to his cabin and Louis could see that his hand was shaking a little. He felt better knowing Harry’s was affected too, since Louis felt like he was about to die. Or come. Or come and then die. Louis only had time to notice that Harry’s room was huge before Harry was pushing him back against the door and pressing his mouth to Louis’ throat.
“Fuck,” Louis said, jerking his head back and banging it on the door.
“Oh god, sorry,” Harry said. “I just… I’ve been wanting to do that all day and I--”
“Bed,” Louis said, grabbing Harry’s wrist this time. “Can we--?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Harry said and headed across the room to the enormous bed. Louis was aware of the softness of the carpet under his bare feet as he followed Harry. The curtains were open and Louis could see Harry had an outside balcony, he could still see the moon shining on the water, the yacht’s lights reflected against the chrome railing.
“Louis,” Harry said and Louis looked at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him. Louis took a couple more steps until he was directly in front of him and then dropped down to his knees.
Louis slid his hands up Harry’s legs and under the hem of his shorts.
“These are ridiculous, you know that, right?”
Harry laughed. “Louis. C’mon.”
Louis tugged at the shorts until they started to slide down. Harry wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Of course he wasn’t. His cock sprung free and Louis had to grip Harry’s thighs to ground himself. Fuck. He stared for a second before leaning forward and taking Harry in his mouth.
Harry groaned low and Louis moved his hands higher, gripped Harry’s hips to pull him closer.
“Fuck, Louis,” Harry whimpered. “Fucking hell.”
Louis wanted to look up, to see what Harry looked like when he was falling apart like this. If it was anything close to how he sounded, Louis wouldn’t survive it. He swirled his tongue around the head of Harry’s cock, feeling Harry’s thighs tremble under his hands. Louis slid one hand back to stroke Harry’s balls and Harry groaned again.
“Louis. Please. Don’t. I… Fuck. God. I don’t want to come like this.”
Louis pulled his mouth off, then licked a long stripe from Harry’s balls to the tip.
“Jesus Christ,” Harry said. “You’re good at that.”
Louis sat back on his heels. His own erection was becoming painful, but the sight of Harry - long hair sticking sweatily to his face, ridiculous shirt open almost to the waist, tattoos standing out dark even against his tanned skin - he wanted to wreck him.
“Can you… will you take your clothes off?” Harry said.
Louis pulled his t-shirt off and pushed his sweats and underwear down in one go.
“Fuck,” Harry breathed. “You’re beautiful.”
“Fuck off,” Louis laughed. “Look at you.”
He stepped between Harry’s legs and undid the last couple of buttons on his shirt before pushing it back off his shoulders. Harry watched him, his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes dark.
Once the shirt was off, Louis pushed Harry back onto the bed, lying half on top of him, his thigh between Harry’s thighs, his hard dick pressed against Harry’s hip.
“We haven’t kissed yet,” Harry said.
Louis looked at Harry’s mouth. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to.”
“Fuck,” Harry breathed. “Fucking course I do.”
He lifted his head and pressed his mouth to Louis’ and Louis relaxed against him, breathing into the kiss. He felt Harry’s hands on his back, his shoulders, the nape of his neck, curling into his hair. He smoothed his tongue along the seam of Harry’s lips and swallowed the resulting groan. Harry opened his mouth and Louis curled his tongue around Harry’s, tasting beer and weed and Harry Harry Harry.
They seemed to kiss for ages. Louis didn’t want to stop. He usually wasn’t actually that much of a kissing bloke, usually focussed more attention below the waist, but kissing Harry was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
Harry rolled Louis over onto his back and kissed across the tattoo.
“I like this,” he murmured.
“I like yours,” Louis said, squeezing his eyes shut. He did, the ones he’d seen. He wished he had time to spare to investigate every single one of them.
Harry’s tongue swirled round Louis’s nipple and Louis’s hips jerked up. Harry pressing them back down with one huge hand.
“Louis,” Harry murmured, as he licked his way across Louis’s abs. “Can I fuck you?”
“God.” Louis lifted his head and slammed it back down again. “Please. Yeah.”
Louis watched as Harry leaned across to his bedside table and pulled open the top drawer, before sitting up on his heels, dropping lube and condoms onto the mattress next to Louis.
Louis closed his eyes and heard the snick of the lube opening and then felt Harry’s hand under his balls.
“This okay?” Harry said.
Louis arched his back. “S’good, yeah.”
“I’m going to… Lou, I want to suck you too, yeah?”
“Oh fucking hell,” Louis said, tangling his fingers in the sheet.
Harry’s tongue swirled over the head of Louis’s dick, as his fingers stroked over his hole. Louis pulled his legs back, sucked in his breath, stared up at the ceiling. It had been a while since he’d been fucked. The last few times he’d pulled, he’d been the one doing the fucking. But right now, he couldn’t understand why he’d left it so long. He couldn’t wait.
“Harry, come on,” he hissed.
“Not yet.” Harry sucked one of his balls into his mouth and did something with his tongue that made Louis’ eyes roll back in his head.
“I’m ready,” Louis said. “Come on.”
“You’re not ready,” Harry said and Louis suspected he might be laughing. And then he felt Harry’s tongue brush over his hole and he couldn’t think at all. Harry pressed a finger inside him and licked around it and Louis felt like fireworks were going off behind his eyes.
“Harry,” he groaned. “I can’t. I’ll come if you… please.”
Harry slid another finger alongside the first, licking between and around them, his other hand still holding Louis down on the bed. Louis’s feet scrabbled against the sheets and he pushed one hand into Harry’s hair, tangling it around his fingers. Harry groaned.
“Please,” Louis moaned. “Please.”
Harry pulled his fingers out slowly and moved up to hold himself up over Louis.
Louis looked up at him. His face was flushed, his eyes dark. His hair was so long the ends brushed against Louis’ chest. He was so beautiful.
“God. Yes. I’m sure.”
When Harry pressed inside him, Louis felt like every stupid decision he’d made in his life had been worth it because they’d brought him to this moment. On this ridiculous yacht. With this ridiculous boy. Who was looking at him like he was the sun.
“Yeah?” Harry said.
Louis pulled him down into a kiss.
As Harry moved inside him, Louis thought about how he’d probably never see him again. How Harry was going to go home, back to whatever life allowed him to go on anniversary trips on super yachts and wear ridiculous floral shirts and matching shorts. How Louis would stay on the yacht until he got bored or fired and then find something else to do, but probably not at home. He didn’t think he was going to go home for a long time. And it was okay. He was glad that he got to have Harry just even just once. It was worth it. More than worth it.
Harry pulled back and looked down at Louis, his eyes sparkling.
“So good,” Louis said.
Harry nodded, biting his lip. And then he reached down and wrapped his enormous hand around Louis’s aching dick and Louis stopped thinking altogether.
“I was right,” Louis said later, when they’d piled cushions on Harry’s balcony and were leaning back against them, watching the waves roll by and the sun come up.
“Hmm?” Harry said against his neck.
“You are a rich fucker.”
Harry did one of his ridiculous honking laughs and Louis turned and pressed his lips to his temple.
“So what does that make you?” Harry said.
Louis grinned. “A lucky fucker.”