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don’t even need to touch me, baby, just breathe on me.

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Harry Styles is a cliché.

That’s the prevailing thought running through his mind as he stares at the front of the classroom where Professor Tomlinson, possible love of his reasonably short life, stands as he gives a lecture about classism in Dickens’ Great Expectations.

Harry wasn’t supposed to get his degree in English. He somehow managed to sneak a lit course into his workload first year, and that class just so happened to be taught by Professor Tomlinson. The first time he ever saw him -- when the older man walked through the doors of the lecture hall -- Harry scrambled to move his backpack away from the empty seat beside him in the hopes he’d sit next to him. He even shot him a cheeky grin; the other man returned it politely and then stood at the head of the room. Harry’s heart dropped. Professor Tomlinson.

Fast forward a few years and Harry’s sitting in the second row of a packed lecture hall, staring hopelessly at the other man. He’s in his final year of getting his English degree, much to the disappointment of his parents. He blames Professor Tomlinson. He’s only had four classes with him over the years, but his ill-fated decision to switch programs has led him to where he is now: drooling over his Professor like a creep. It’s just Harry’s luck that the most handsome man he’s ever met happens to be one of the only men he can’t have.

About three things Harry Styles is absolutely positive. First, he definitely did not read all four Twilight books. Second, there is a part of him – and he knows exactly how potent that part of him is – that wants to test the science behind sucking Professor Tomlinson’s brain out through his dick. And third, Harry is unconditionally and irrevocably in lust with his Professor.

So yes, Harry Styles is a cliché. He’s seen this plotline unfold in porn all the time. He’s not sure if leaning over his desk and offering up his arse for a spanking will yield the same results, however.

While Professor Tomlinson lectures excitedly about the working class in Victorian England, Harry takes the time to catalog every one of his features for possibly the thousandth time.

Louis – he’s one of those cool professors who insists his students use his actual name (Harry likes the sound of Professor though – rolls off the tongue quite well) – dresses in a strange mix of Professional and Skateboarder Chic. Harry doesn’t know how he gets away with it. He wears skintight black jeans -- slightly rolled at the cuff to expose caramel-skinned ankles that he wants to nibble -- paired with black Vans of all things. But on top he wears a blue button up, cinched at the neck, with a black blazer thrown over it. He looks kind of like a professor, but also kind of like someone dressed as a professor. Like a stripper at a hen do. Harry doesn’t let his thoughts dawdle on that image.

He trails his eyes up to his face and tries very hard not to let out the dreamy sigh that’s ready to spill from his lips. Louis’ skin is this gorgeous natural tan color, like he was born cradled in the sun’s arms or something poetic like that. His jaw is sharp and defined, but covered, as today is what Harry refers to as a Sexy Stubble Day. Some days Louis comes to class clean-shaven and beautiful, making Harry dream of rubbing his face on his like some sort of odd animal mating ritual. But then there are days like today where Louis clearly hasn’t shaved in a couple days and his chin is covered in brown stubble that Harry aches to feel on his thighs. Sexy Stubble Days are hard for Harry in many, many ways.

Harry shakes himself from his lusty thoughts, but looking at Louis’ other features doesn’t fare him any better. He pictures those pretty thin pink lips stretched around his cock, his little nose flaring as he tries to breathe, crystal blue eyes sparking with tears and curved eyebrows wrinkled in concentration while Harry fists his long brown hair in his hand and thrusts. Fuck.

A peek at the clock tells Harry he’s spent nearly half the class fantasizing about Louis, which – par for the course, really. But he moves his notebook into his lap half-heartedly, intent on actually listening. If he bites his lip while he sneaks a peak of Louis’ arse, well, he’s not perfect.

Class ends half an hour later and Harry does his typical sluggish routine of packing up slowly in case Professor Tomlinson tries to strike up a conversation. He’s hopeless. Except today he actually does talk to him.

“Harry!” he calls.

Harry spins around and tries not to look too over eager as he bounds his way over to Louis like an excited puppy. “Yes, Professor?”

“Told you to call me Louis, Mr. Styles,” Louis says in faux-sternness. Harry bows his head in acknowledgement. “Wanted to ask you something, actually. Judging by my grade book you have one of the highest grades in class right now.” Harry tries not to let his surprise show. He thought for sure his struggle to keep his eyes off Louis’ arse had actually manifested itself in poor scores this time around. “I’m going to start a bi-weekly study session for my Intro Lit course and I need a student to assist. I was wondering if you’d be interested?”

Bi-weekly study sessions. An extra twice a week he’d get to spend with Louis. There’s a big part of Harry dancing inside; he tries to keep his face impassive.

Louis must take this impassiveness as a sign of reluctance, because he hurries to add, “You’ll be paid for your time, of course! Twice a week, four hours, that’ll be like…fifty quid, give or take? It’ll look good on your resume too.” Louis doesn’t need to butter him up for this. Harry would do anything for him, probably. Hide a body? Sure. Accompany him on a trip to Mount Doom? Easy.

“Sure, Prof—Louis, yeah. Why not?” Harry answers.

“Great! I know it’s hard for students to find jobs around this time of year, so hopefully this won’t be a total waste of your time,” Louis laughs. Harry chuckles awkwardly. Louis doesn’t know about his job job. Money isn’t exactly an issue. He doesn’t need to know that.

“Sounds good to me, Louis.”

Louis beams at him and sends him on his way.


Harry texts his roommate Niall on the way to his next class.

prof asked me to teach some extra study sessions w/ him :D

ayyyyyyy m8 get in !!! u excited ?

im nervous but like !!!! ya !!! :D

mayb if u get the d youll shut up about him from now on eh


:D :D :D :D 8===D


Harry prepares for work that night after giving Niall some money and telling him to do whatever he wants for a couple hours as long as he leaves the room. Niall knows what he does, of course, but, like, it’s kind of awkward getting yourself off on camera with your roommate in the bed across from you watching something on Netflix. Bit hard to get in the mood.

As soon as the door shuts behind Niall, Harry walks into their ensuite and jumps in the shower. He cleans himself thoroughly and drapes a small towel around his waist when he leaves. He strolls across the room to quickly make his bed, propping a few decorative pillows on top for ambience. He lights a few of his cinnamon-scented candles placed on his nightstand to give the room a more seductive glow – not that any of his viewers will notice anything beyond his arse, but he wants to put forth an effort.

When he’s done setting the stage, so to speak, he plops himself on his bed and sits his laptop at the foot of it, webcam and external microphone already attached. Finally satisfied, he logs onto the website and clicks to start his show.

“Hello, boys.”


It’s the first study session and Harry is nervous as hell. He dressed up for the occasion, wearing his silk scarf around his head instead of the ripped plaid shirt he’d been using, and a button-up that’s halfway done, as well as his jeans that only have one hole in the knee. He looks spiffy, if he does say so himself.

Louis looks spiffier, though, Harry notes as he walks into the big conference room. Since it’s after hours, he’s loosened up even more than usual. He’s wearing his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a superhero shirt underneath. Harry is oddly endeared. His cock is oddly endeared too by the glasses perched on Louis’ nose. Well. That’s new.

“New glasses?” he asks.

Louis’ head snaps up as Harry approaches the head of the table where he sits. He pulls one of the rolly chairs over next to him and gestures for Harry to sit with a smile. They’re going to be sitting at the head of the table, then. Proper power couple-like, Harry thinks.

“Nah, these are old. Usually wear my contacts while I’m teaching,” Louis answers. He pokes at the glasses self-consciously while Harry just smiles at him. He wonders if his glasses would fog up while he’s fucking him.

Right. Harry needs to stop sexualizing his professor like this. It’s unprofessional of him or something. Clean thoughts.

“What are we going over for this study session?” asks Harry.

Louis smirks and waggles his eyebrows. “The interesting stuff, no doubt. Homosexual subtext in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Harry grins excitedly. “My favorite topic.”

The study session is fun. At least for Harry and Louis. They bounce ideas off of each other about why exactly Carew was walking around the streets of London at night (“He was cruising for dick?!” one of the first years exclaims.) while most of the other students sit back in bored disinterest. Harry thinks they only came for extra credit.

The two hours are up before he knows it; Harry packs up his things reluctantly while the other students bolt out the doors.

“Thanks for doing this, Harry. You’re quite clever, you know,” Louis says. Harry looks up from his backpack and grins.

“You’re a good professor, Louis. I was never interested in this kind of stuff before I took your class first year. My parents hate me a little now, but I’m glad I’m doing this program,” Harry admits.

Louis gives him a small smile as their elbows knock together. “Me too, Harry.”


Harry is drunk. Extremely drunk. Niall is only half drunk, since he seems to have a liver of steel.

The problem is that for the past two years Harry’s been whining to Niall almost daily about Louis. Niall’s an easy-going guy, really. Good-hearted and funny. Great roommate. But after two years, Harry knows his whining is wearing thin. But that doesn’t stop him from going on and on about Louis. Again.

"Have you seen his arse, Niall?" Harry whines. "You think he’d let me put a mirror behind him so I could look at it while he fucks me?"

Niall hums distractedly in response while he toys around with his phone, angling it in front of his face. Harry thinks he’s taking selfies. He’s been doing that a weird amount lately.

"I want to paint pictures of his face, Niall. Fingerpainting, like I’m — like I’m caressing the sides of his face. Fingerpainting with my dick. Dickpainting." Niall looks away from his phone to shoot Harry an unimpressed look. “D’ya think that the paint would sting a little? I don’t care, I’d risk it for the art of it. Professional dick portrait by Harry Styles. D’ya think Louis would like it? I’d give it to him for his birthday.”

“You’re talking rubbish, mate,” Niall complains. “It’s been two years and you’re still moonin’ over Louis like he’s god’s gift to men. I’m sure he’s got a great arse, H, but no arse is worth the pain of you complaining to me about him every day.”

Harry’s torn between hurt at Niall’s bluntness and offense on behalf of Louis’ bum. “First, with all due respect, Niall, until you’ve seen it in person, you can kindly fuck off with talking about Louis’ arse.” He fixes him with a steely glare for about two seconds before his lips wibble. “Secondly, I’m sorry, Niall, I’m so sorry. I’m awful. I only talk about me, me, me. I’m a fucking prat, why do you even live with me?” Harry buries his face into his pillow as a few errant tears leak out. Alcohol makes him weepy.

Harry hears Niall coo and toss his phone onto the bed as he reaches over to tug Harry into a hug. “You know that’s not true, Haz. You’re a great friend all the time. You totally listen to me when I talk about Derby. Nobody does that.” Harry sniffles a little and digs his head into Niall’s neck. “But I’m not mad at ‘ya about Louis, bro. Just sick of seeing you mope around about it. Go and get his dick, H. You’ll be a lot happier for it.”

“He’s my professor, Ni. That’s probably against about fifty school rules.”

Niall scoffs and shrugs his shoulders as much as he can with Harry’s dead weight resting on them. “Who gives a shit about rules? They’re made to be broken. Fuck Louis on the school’s faculty conduct book for all I care.”

Harry laughs weakly. “I’d rather him fuck me on it, actually.”

“So you do bottom!” Niall exclaims. “I fuckin’ knew it.”

“Shut up,” Harry whines as he pushes at Niall’s shoulder. “We’d switch, actually. Most relationships switch, y’know.”

Niall makes a disbelieving noise. “Please. You’d be gagging for it, bro.”

Harry frowns and flips him off. “You are entirely too interested in my sex life, Niall.”

Niall returns the gesture as he climbs off Harry’s bed and into his own. “Then stop telling me all about it, fuckface.”


Louis is on his way to his office when he’s stopped by a blonde tornado of energy.

“You Louis Tomlinson?” Blondie asks.

“Erm, yes,” Louis replies. The blonde sticks his hand in his pocket and takes out a post-it note. He shoves it in Louis’ hand and gives him a significant look as he turns to walk away. Louis looks down curiously and – what the fuck.

8pm 2nite
log onto
password: butterfliesandbananas

“Hey, what the hell is this?” Louis yells. The blonde turns around briefly to shoot him a manic grin and a thumbs up.

Louis should crumple the post-it note up and toss it.

He doesn’t.


Harry should have known something was up. Niall charged into their room an hour before he was supposed to leave, with a determined look fixed to his face. “Have you ever done a sexy student thing with one of your shows?” he asks.

“Uh, no,” Harry answers. “Why?”

“Do it tonight. Wear a dumb little tie around your neck or somethin’.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Do you watch my shows, Niall? Is this your sexual fantasy?”

Niall cackles and steps out of the room slowly. “If I wanted to watch I’d stay in the room, bro. Just do it.”

Harry doesn’t trust the look in Niall’s eyes. He goes with his advice anyway, probably because he’s an idiot.


Louis gets back to his flat at around six; he putters around his kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal, and then trudges into his living room. Tomorrow is the next study session with Harry and – well, he doesn’t really know how to feel. Mostly confused. Because when Louis started teaching, he thought he’d feel a little more like that guy in Dead Poets Society and less like Humbert Humbert in Lolita. Harry Bloody Styles, bane of his existence.

It’s not that he dislikes Harry, of course; life would be much easier if he did. The problem is that while he’s lecturing to his classes he finds himself a little too drawn to the green eyes boring into him from the side. It’s mostly innocent, he thinks. Harry’s cute, if not a little young. (Louis is young himself, mind you, but he’s in a position of power or something, apparently.) Most of his interest is tied up in teaching Harry everything he knows – he’s a remarkably bright student, really. So it’s innocent. He hopes.

Louis pads over to his bedroom and starts to undress, pulling sweatpants and a t-shirt out of his drawers. When he picks up his jeans to toss them onto the chair, a familiar yellow post-it note falls to the floor. After a moment of confusion he remembers the strange encounter with the blonde boy outside his office. He’d forgotten all about the website.

He’s not going to look. It’s probably a virus or something, all of this a big trick designed by a vengeful former student. The blonde didn’t look particularly threatening, however, so…what the hell.

After a shower and some catch-up of Gogglebox, Louis darts his eyes in between the post-it note and his laptop. It’s 7:53pm. Curiosity is getting the best of him.

He opens his laptop and waits for it to boot up while he keeps a nervous gaze on the post-it note. Finally, at two minutes to eight, he types the address in with hesitant fingers.

Part of him expected a red screen taunting him about some horrifying virus his laptop is now infected with, but he’s pleasantly surprised with the relatively simple and tasteful layout. Tasteful except for the boy on the logo in the left corner who’s bent over, arsehole gleefully exposed. There are eight boxes on the screen, each with a blurry face and screen name, advertising a show. None of them look too appealing until he gets to the last. The username is hazzass, and although the icon is blurry, Louis thinks it bears a striking resemblance to Harry. But—no, it can’t be, he thinks.

He clicks it anyway.

A pop-up asks him for a password, so he hesitantly types in “butterfliesandbananas” like the post-it said. When he hits enter he’s redirected to a video player with a countdown.


All he sees is a hand fiddling with a webcam. And then the hand moves and a half-naked body moves back and – Harry. That’s definitely Harry. Louis is glad no one is around to hear him gasp.

He turns the volume up and watches as Harry waves at the screen.

“Hello boys,” he begins. The voice is deep and – yes, that’s definitely Harry. “Thought I’d do something a little different for you all tonight, so…” His voice trails off as he tugs his hand around a red and blue striped tie draped across his naked chest. His naked chest, he thinks. He has four nipples. Fascinating.

Harry runs his hand along the fabric of the tie and looks up at the webcam coquettishly through his lashes. “I wanted to talk about my grade on the last paper, Professor.”

The shock of those words almost makes Louis slam his laptop shot. Did Harry plan this? Is it a joke?

“I know I got a D, but I really think I deserve an A…I’ll do anything for an A.” Harry runs his hand down along his torso and settles it over his crotch, palming lightly. “You can punish me if you want to.”

Louis lets out a strangled breath and tries to ignore the increasing ache in his sweatpants. “This is so wrong,” he mutters. He runs his hand over his face and massages his temples while he thinks. If he’s smart, he’ll exit out of the site, shut his laptop down, and forget this night ever happened. He’d see Harry in the study session tomorrow and smile, making it a point not to think about him naked. If he’s smart.

For a university professor, Louis Tomlinson is pretty fucking stupid. He looks back at the screen.

Harry has a large hand fisted around his cock; he’s letting out the prettiest moans, head thrown back slightly to expose his long throat while he keeps an eye on the camera. The thought of Harry watching himself get off on camera is what makes Louis cave, too turned on to put a stop to it. With a resigned breath, Louis tugs his sweatpants off his legs and settles back onto the couch, laptop resting on his thighs. He runs his hand over his chest and lightly rubs at his nipple while he watches Harry do the same; Harry’s long fingers pinch one of his swollen tips, pulling it gently and then rubbing it with the pads of his fingers. Harry lets out a breathy sigh and smiles coyly at the camera.

“I’ve been so bad. Need to be punished,” he breathes. With one hand kneading his nipple, he trails the other down to his cock, and then further, past the sight of the webcam. “Do you want to watch?”

For the first time Louis notices the chat bar on the side of the screen. After Harry’s question, there’s a stream of comments, most of them from usernames like “9inchdaddyboi” or “luv2fuktwinks.” They’re all begging Harry to show them, calling him dirty names and egging him on. Louis wants to scare them all away – scare them away from his boy. He hates that other men, probably sexually-repressed, married middle-aged men, get to see Harry like this.

He turns back to Harry and watches as he scooches back on his bed to reveal himself. He’s just toying with his hole, tracing the pads of his fingers around his rim. He reaches offscreen and comes back with a bottle of lube. Louis moans quietly, knowing what comes next. While Harry pours the liquid over his fingers, Louis reaches down to tug at his achingly hard cock. He goes slow, twisting along the head with every upstroke. He’s too turned on for much else.

He watches as Harry pushes one long finger inside, pumping slowly while he spreads his legs to get a better angle. Before Louis can savor the sight, the younger boy pushes in another finger alongside it. He’s letting out broken whimpers that send shockwaves through Louis’ body.

When Harry finally works himself up to four fingers, he pulls out abruptly and levels a shaky smile at the camera. He reaches offscreen again, this time bringing back a long pink vibrator. He licks the side of it and moans outrageously – if Louis wasn’t a beat away from coming he’d probably roll his eyes at the over-the-top porno moves, but as it stands, he’s one flick of his wrist away from take-off. He moves his hand away, hoping to stave off his orgasm for a little while longer.

“Wish this was your cock,” Harry whispers.


Louis shuts his laptop an hour later, stomach coated in come and brain swamped with shame. He’s fucked.


Harry nearly skips into the study session the next day, feeling light and relaxed after what he thinks was a surprisingly cathartic cam session last night. He’d had more viewers than ever, so the website tossed some extra money his way – Harry has a pair of glittery boots in mind that he’s been wanting to splurge on for the past few months. It’s all very exciting.

Louis isn’t there yet, which is a little surprising. Harry unpacks his stuff and greets each student as they walk in, making small talk about their weeks. A few minutes after the session was supposed to start, Louis finally walks in looking harried and nervous.

“Hey guys, sorry about that.” The students murmur politely in response. Harry tries to shoot Louis a friendly smile, but he hasn’t cast a single glance at him since he walked in. He watches with a frown as Louis scoots his chair further away from him.

The rest of the study session goes much the same way – Louis ignores him unless he’s speaking, but even then he just looks down at the pad of paper in front of him and nods. Harry has no clue what he did.

He brings his phone out under the table and shoots a text off to Niall.

louis wont even look at me?? wtf did i do :(

His phone buzzes minutes later with a response.

haha forgot 2 tell ya i paid him a visit ystrdy told him 2 watch ur show sry bro !




Harry thinks he’s going to die. He’s going to die at the age of 20, with only an unfinished degree and an embarrassing online life to show for it. What will his mother think?

He can feel himself break out in a cold sweat as he tries to stop himself from hyperventilating. It’s no wonder Louis won’t look at him, seeing as how he watched Harry fuck himself silly last night with his favorite vibrator. He’s going to have to throw it out. He can’t ever look at it the same way again. Fuck, he can’t even look at Louis the same way again.

He wonders idly if it’s too late to switch schools. Definitely.

The rest of the study session moves at a snail’s pace. Harry spends most of it staring at the clock and tapping his toes annoyingly against the floor. One of the first years shoots him an annoyed glare, but fuck if he cares.

When Louis finally calls the session to a close, Harry bolts up from his seat determined to apologize to him, but the older man practically runs out of the room. Harry follows him quickly to his office.


Louis spins around and gives Harry a panicked look, like a cornered rat. “Don’t call me that,” he pleads. Harry flushes, remembering his exaggerated acting the night before. God, what if Louis thinks he did this on purpose?

“Please, Louis, I need to apologize. I had no idea you were watching last night,” he says. Louis stares at his feet while Harry rambles. “My roommate got sick of me talking about you all the time so he apparently told you about it?” Truth be told he doesn’t know the details – he plans on beating them out of Niall later.

Harry watches Louis shift balance from foot to foot in awkward silence, until he looks up hesitantly. “Little blonde boy?”

“Niall. My roommate, yeah,” Harry sighs.

“Right,” Louis replies. He still looks ready to bolt.

“Can we talk about this inside your office, please?” Louis nods and opens the door, gesturing for Harry to follow him inside. While Louis sits at his desk, Harry takes one of the padded chairs across from him.

“Please don’t kick me out of your class, Prof—Louis,” Harry begs. “I like you a lot, but I’ll never even talk to you again if that’s what it takes for me to stay.”

“I’m not going to kick you out, Harry,” Louis answers. “This is all just very…awkward for me.”

Harry nods and shuffles his legs in his chair. “I’m really sorry for all of this. Niall thought this might spark something I guess, but you’re my professor and I know you don’t…feel the way I do.”

Harry stares down at his boots while he waits for Louis to answer. There’s a beat of silence where Louis just shuffles papers on his desk, and then, “What way?”

Harry bites his lip and looks at the older man. “I guess you could say it’s a crush,” he pauses, “But it feels a lot stronger than that.” There. It’s out in the open now. Now all Louis has to do is reject him and devastate him and maybe he can actually move on.

“Your…show last night,” Louis begins. He seems to weigh his words a bit before continuing, “Is that what you think about doing with me sometimes?”

Harry sucks in a breath like he’s been punched in the gut. “All the time.”

Louis levels an indecipherable look at Harry; he opens his mouth to say something, but quickly snaps it shut and groans. "God, Harry, how old are you?" He puts his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands.

"Old enough," Harry replies.

"That’s the type of thing people say when they’re not actually old enough, you know."

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m in uni, aren’t I? For a few years now, too. I’m 20, if you must know.”

Louis pulls his hands down so they rest over his chin. “I’m your professor.”

“I’m well aware,” Harry sighs. “This goes beyond a weird teacher crush, Louis. I like you way more than Dr. Winston. I’ve only thought about sucking his dick, like, five times. Max.” Harry snaps his mouth shut and tries to resist the urge to hit himself. Why would he say that?

Louis laughs though and nods in agreement. “Ben is quite hot, isn’t he?”

“Not as hot as you,” Harry grins. Louis sputters in protest and blushes.

“Harry,” Louis starts. There’s a hint of reluctance in his tone that Harry doesn’t like the sound of. “This can’t happen. Us. It’s wildly unprofessional and I just…can’t.”

Right. Harry can’t say he’s too surprised. With a resigned nod, he picks up his backpack and stands. “I’m sorry, Louis. We can just act like none of this happened. Please?”

Louis gives him a weak smile as Harry leaves. He can feel his eyes boring into his back as he walks way.


The study sessions are awkward now, to say the least. Every time Harry and Louis bump elbows they jerk away from each other like they’ve been shocked. Harry’s only looked into Louis’ eyes maybe three times, and that’s including class time. Harry even canceled his last web show, too freaked out by the last time to go again so soon.

So everything sucks. And it’s not like the sexual tension is going away, either. In fact, Harry’s fantasizing about Louis more than ever, and this time it’s actually affecting his school work.

It’s two weeks later when Louis finally pulls him aside.

“Harry…” Louis sighs. “Your grades haven’t been great lately.”

Harry hangs his head and nods, twisting his fingers along the straps of his backpack. “I know. I’ve been a bit distracted I guess.”

“Is this about…” Louis doesn’t finish his sentence. Harry just nods and finally locks eyes with him. Louis looks tired, little purple half moons under his eyes. But he looks so good, and Harry just wants to—just wants.

There’s not a lot of thinking involved when Harry surges forward to press his lips against Louis’. Louis’ arms flail up as if he’s going to press against Harry’s chest to resist, but he winds up grabbing the back of Harry’s neck instead to pull him forward. Harry snakes his tongue in between Louis’ lips, licking along his teeth and tangling their tongues together. Louis grunts and threads his fingers through Harry’s hair; he yanks his head back and lets his tongue trail down his neck.

“Louis,” Harry moans. “Please.”

“Please what, Harry?” Louis asks. He keeps Harry’s head pulled back as he bites at the throbbing vein in his neck. Harry’s eyes squeeze shut at the feeling, sharp bites of pain soothed by swipes of Louis’ tongue.

“Want you,” he breathes.

Louis pulls away and gestures towards Harry’s things. “Can’t do this here. My office in ten minutes.”

Harry nods and staggers back against his seat, watching as Louis leaves the room.


Louis paces in his office while he waits. A part of him wants to send Harry away and tell him it was a mistake, but he knows that won’t happen. He wants this – he needs this.

There’s a hesitant knock at the door that interrupts Louis from his thoughts. He cracks the door open just enough to pull Harry through and then drags him to his desk. He plops down in his chair and yanks Harry to him. Harry lifts his knees to balance on the chair, settling himself down with his arse against Louis’ thighs.

It’s Louis who initiates the kiss this time, tugging Harry forward and licking into his mouth. Harry whines and wraps his arms around Louis’ neck, pressing closer and making the chair wobble uneasily.

“Steady, steady,” Louis orders. “Relax a little, baby. Slow.”

“Don’t want slow,” Harry protests. “Want you.”

“You have me, Harry,” Louis says. He runs his hands along the sides of Harry’s body and lets them rest at his hips. Harry leans back in for a kiss, but this time he grinds forward, rocking his cock against Louis’ crotch. Louis moves one of his hands down to the arm of the chair to give himself leverage as Harry rocks slowly, winding his hips around in slow undulating movements.

“Fuck me,” Harry moans.

"I don’t—," Louis pants into Harry’s neck. "I don’t have lube, Harry."

Harry shakes his head in frustration, grinding faster and more deliberately into Louis’ crotch. “Don’t care, just fuck me.”

It takes all of Louis’ strength to tamp down on Harry’s hips and shove him away. “I’m not a barbarian, Harry. This isn’t Brokeback Mountain. Would you like to be able to walk again within the next week?”

Harry whines and tries to wind his way back into Louis’ lap, but Louis settles him firmly away from him. “Why couldn’t you have any in your desk like those sexy stories I read?”

"Sexy stor — fucking hell. No, Harry, I don’t keep bottles of lube in my desk. I’m not usually a sexual deviant," Louis grouses.

Harry smirks and leans his head down to nuzzle at Louis’ throat affectionately. “Only a sexual deviant for me, then?” Louis huffs out a laugh and tugs at the nape of Harry’s neck to pull him in for another kiss.


Harry kisses Louis languidly and, like, it’s nice, yeah, but Harry’s dick is leaking uncomfortably through his jeans and he’d really like to get off. He pouts and sits back to glare at Louis through narrowed eyes. “Still horny here.” He glances down at Louis’ crotch and raises his eyebrows. “You too.”

Louis groans. “Come home with me, then?”

“I wanted desk sex,” Harry protests. He folds his arms and glares at the other man in frustration. But then – an idea. He lets a filthy grin unwind on his face as he stands up only to kneel back down on the floor. “I can suck you off, though.”

Louis lets out a staggered breath and watches as Harry unzips his jeans. He lifts himself a little so that Harry can tug them down to his ankles. Harry moves forward and presses a gentle kiss to his clothed cock, shifting along his length until he gets to the head. There’s wetness already seeping through the fabric; Harry licks around the spot and suckles softly, moaning quietly when Louis twists his fingers in his hair.

“Come on,” he whines. Harry gives him an impish grin and then tugs his briefs down his legs too. He lets out a shaky exhale when he sees Louis’ cock. Finally. He’s just…he’s big, thick all around and curved a little to the left. Harry can’t wait to get his mouth on him. So he does.

He wraps his lips around the head of his cock and sucks, flicking his tongue around the sensitive skin. Louis gasps and tightens his grip in Harry’s hair, tugging him down so that he takes more into his mouth. Harry closes his eyes and sets to work, breathing through his nose as he goes down. He flattens the bottom of his tongue with every upstroke so that he can lick over the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock.

“Harry…” Louis whimpers. “Fuck.”

Harry hums contentedly and bobs his head back down, trying to reach the base of his cock. He nuzzles his head against Louis’ hand to try and catch his attention, giving him a meaningful look through the sheen of water in his eyes. Louis seems to catch on, using his hand to push Harry down. Harry moans and squeezes his eyes shut as Louis takes control, keeping his pace slow and forceful. With every bob downward, Louis thrusts his hips up until Harry is gagging around his cock, eyes streaming.

“Look so good with my cock in your mouth, Harry,” Louis grunts. “So fucking good.”

Harry presses the heel of his hand against the bulge in his pants to take off some of the pressure. Louis thrusts slowly, the head of his cock nudging at his throat with every movement. When Louis’ thrusts start to get uncontrolled, he pulls Harry off sharply. A trail of spit dribbles out of the corner of his mouth and Harry licks it off, boring his eyes into Louis’.

Louis fists his hand around his cock and pumps at a feverish pace, lining up the head of it against Harry’s bottom lip. Harry sticks his tongue out to lick at the head and that does it; Louis cries out and comes, painting Harry’s tongue and his lips in white. Harry whines and tries to lick it all up, swallowing it down eagerly.

“Gonna take you home, Harry,” Louis whispers in his ear. “Fuck you like you need me to.”

Harry stumbles onto his feet and nods breathlessly. “Please.”


They’re barely through the door of Louis’ flat before Louis is pressing Harry against the wall and grinding against him.

“Wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” he breathes. “Couldn’t stop thinking about it the past couple weeks.”

Harry whimpers and pulls Louis closer. “Do it. Fuck me.”

They kiss in a clash of wet tongues and hungry breaths, Louis tugging him towards one of the doors in the hallway.

“You wanted desk sex?” he asks. Harry’s eyes widen and he nods slowly. “Wait for me in there,” Louis orders, pushing Harry into his office.

Louis dashes to his room and grabs a bottle of lube and condom from his bedside drawer. He crosses the hallway into his office and nearly drops the two items at the sight of Harry bent over the desk, jeans pooled at his feet. Harry throws a dirty look over his shoulder and wiggles his arse enticingly in Louis’ direction.

Louis stumbles over to Harry on shaky legs and runs his hands along Harry’s long, smooth back. He traces his hands down the cleft of Harry’s arse and teases one finger against his hole.

“You clean?” he murmurs.

Harry nods quickly in confirmation. “Showered before class.”

Louis sits down in his office chair and scoots forward until his face is lined up with Harry’s cheeks. “Bend over, baby. Arms on the desk.” Harry bends down until he’s lying with his torso pressed against the desk; Louis knows it must be hell on his back, so he runs his hand over his muscles, kneading gently into the skin as he dips his head down and presses one experimental lick over Harry’s hole. Harry cries out quietly and spreads his legs further apart. Louis brings his hands down to his arse and spreads his cheeks apart as he licks around the rim wetly, sucking around his hole. Harry mewls prettily while Louis rubs his thumbs in circles across his cheeks, pointing his tongue so that he can prod gently inside.

“Louis,” Harry sobs. “More, please.”

“Want my fingers, sweetheart?” Louis asks. Harry just wiggles his bum into Louis’ face as an answer. Louis grabs the bottle from where it sits on the floor and coats his fingers. He presses one inside slowly, licking around his hole as it glides inside. He twists it around and then slides in another, thrusting them in a curved motion to reach his prostate. It’s wet and dirty and Louis knows they’re going way too fast, but he can’t be arsed to care much at the moment.

When he presses another finger inside, jabbing insistently against the bundle of nerves inside of him, Harry cries out sharply. “Fuck, Louis, do it, just fuck me, please.” Louis could fuck him like this for days, but he gives in to the desperate tone in Harry’s voice. He reaches for a condom and slicks himself up, fisting his cock quickly while he scans his eyes over Harry’s flushed form. Harry turns his head so that his cheek lies against the desk while he stares Louis down. His lips are pouty and pink, his eyes glassy and dark. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever looked more beautiful.

He guides his cock to Harry’s hole, pushing just the head past the rim. He’s still so tight, even after working him open. Louis keeps pressing forward gently until he’s halfway inside. He pauses then to grab at Harry’s tiny little love handles as he thrusts the final few inches.

“Louis…” Harry sobs. “It’s so much.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Louis coos. He digs his nails into Harry’s flesh as he pulls out. When he’s almost withdrawn he thrusts back inside forcefully, slamming the desk against the wall. Another cry is startled out of Harry’s mouth; he struggles to find something to hold onto on the desk, but Louis grabs his arms instead, jerking them behind his back and holding them there while he fucks into him again.

“You can take it, love, can’t you? Take my cock so well,” he murmurs. He heaves himself forward again, this time building up a slow rhythm of powerful thrusts. Harry’s wailing underneath him, powerless and unable to move. Louis searches around for Harry’s prostate with every plunge. He knows he’s found it when Harry’s body locks up beneath him and he lets out a surprised scream.

“There, there, there,” he bawls. “Harder.”

Louis keeps one hand around Harry’s wrists and the other planted on the desk as he fucks quickly inside of him against the same spot, forcing a scream from Harry with every movement.

Louis trails his eyes over his back and then down to where they’re connected, nearly gasping at the sight of his cock splitting him open.

“Fuck, Harry, wish you could see yourself like this baby, taking my cock,” he grumbles. “Meant for me, weren’t you, darling? Tell me how you feel.”

“F-full,” Harry stammers. “So full. So good, Louis, so good.”

Louis doubles down his thrusts, hell-bent on getting Harry off with just his cock. He makes a game of it, thrusting twice and then pausing, just moving his hips around in little circles until Harry is whining and pleading beneath him, and then driving back inside furiously until he’s just letting out an endless stream of whimpers beneath him. Harry struggles to lift his head and look back at Louis at one point, and Louis nearly comes apart at the sight of his face. Trails of tears line his face, his skin blotchy and red. His mouth hangs open in silent pleas as eyes fill again, leaking out the sides.

“God Harry,” Louis groans. “So beautiful.”

If Harry was less gone, Louis knows he’d preen at the compliment, but instead he just squeezes his eyes shut and clenches around his cock. Louis thrusts wildly into him until Harry opens his mouth and lets out a silent scream, squeezing around his cock and coming all over his belly and Louis’ desk.

Louis only manages a few more pushes until he’s coming too, buried inside Harry’s arse. He shoves his face into Harry’s neck and bites at his shoulder as he feels Harry’s arsehole spasming in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

They rest like that, front to back against Louis’ desk, until Louis pulls out and tugs Harry up so he can stretch out his back. He spins Harry around and hugs him to his chest, leaving little kisses along the side of his face.

“You were so good, darling, so lovely,” he assures him. Harry gives him a watery smile and then burrows his head sheepishly into his neck.

Louis had his doubts about where this was going, but here with Harry in his arms, he knows he can never give this up. He doesn’t think he’ll ever want to.


Harry saunters around campus his last semester with a little pep in his step. While everyone else is wondering what they’re going to do after graduation, Harry’s satisfied with knowing he’s got a fit boyfriend waiting for him on the other end. He loves being a cliché.