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with nothing but your t-shirt on

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The first time Louis talks to Harry Styles, he’s so focussed on replying to Liam’s message about the fact that he wasn’t the one who finished the emergency condoms, that he gets a fright when someone coughs to get his attention and he looks up with wide eyes, before he gawps.


Louis knows that I’ve seen you fuck yourself with a vibrator should not be the first thing that comes to mind when Louis first meets Harry Styles.


And it’s probably that reason that Harry Styles probably thinks he’s a bit off in his head, because instead of answering him with a simple yes when he comes up to Louis and asks: ‘Is this Intro to Psychology?’, Louis frowns at him, before his eyes widen and he stares.


Louis’ fingers rest against the keys of his mobile as he tries to compose himself, but.


The boy standing in front of him, in a baggy long-sleeve with a satchel resting against his hip and tired eyes and shower soft hair is undoubtedly the very same boy who Louis had watched come all over himself while wearing nothing but a lace bra not two days before.


Louis’ mind struggles to wrap around the fact that cumwhoreharry is standing in front of him, because there’s no way it isn’t him. Maybe, it could have been some other startlingly pretty boy, if it weren’t for his voice. Because Louis knows that voice, has heard that voice in his dreams, has played it through his mind when he comes.


Harry laughs nervously, and Louis feels his palms sweat. ‘You alright?’ he asks, the same gravelly voice. Louis has imagined asking Harry the same thing after fucking him into headspace and caring for him until he’s safely out far too many times.


Louis nods lamely before he manages to gather control of himself, slipping his phone into his pocket, leaving Liam’s message unanswered as he opens his mouth to speak.


‘Yeah, yeah it is.’ He croaks, and Harry gives him a grateful little smile before raising his hand to give him something between a salute and a wave, and god, Louis has seen him stuff all four of those elegant fingers inside himself before circling those of his other hand around his cock. Louis is not fine.





When Louis gets home, his laptop is still charging on his cluttered desk, open with dust across the keyboard and over the screen. He steels himself in the doorway, adamant about not doing what he would normally.


There’s only a handful of times where Louis has the flat to himself, but the most definite is Tuesdays and Thursdays when he gets back from class.


While Liam and Niall are both aware of his obsession and they’ve probably heard more than they would ever admit, Louis likes to watch his Harry videos when he’s alone so that he can play them loud and listen to his whimpers through his speakers, rather than when he watches his livestreams with earphones and waits until after they’ve finished before he lets himself wank off, because then he can focus on not making too much noise out of common courtesy.


It’s Thursday, so there’s still the new video from Wednesday evening sitting in his email, and normally Louis would settle down on his bed and watch the new ‘Hump Day Video’, but now he stands and stares at his laptop.


It’s weird now, because now he’s met him. Maybe not properly, but he’s still met him, was in his vicinity. He got to stare at the back of his head for the entire hour twenty minutes of his lecture, and he managed to not take in a shred of information because he was too torn between freaking out because of who was in front of him, and getting hard because of who was in front of him.


He crosses the room to his laptop in a moment of weakness, because in Harry’s livestream of Sunday, he’d said that the video would be a good one, and Louis had been waiting patiently.


So he sits down at his unsteady chair and chews on his fingernail. On one hand, if Louis stops subscribing and doesn’t pay next month, he can slowly forget all the things he’s seen and maybe try and speak to Harry again and then maybe build up to asking him out and getting to discover all the sounds he’s already heard the proper way. And on the other hand, Louis can watch the video and tell himself he’s going to stop, but never will and get stuck feeling awed and guilty every time he sees the boy, and therefore never approach him again and let the opportunity slip through his fingers.


In the end, Harry was right. The video is a good one. Louis comes hard with Harry’s kittenish moans streaming through his speakers as he rides a thick dildo, wearing nothing but little cat ears clipped into his hair.





Louis hopes that maybe it was a once off, that maybe he was lost and come Monday, he won’t be there anymore.


But of course that doesn’t happen, and when he arrives, Harry’s seated in the same place, and Louis sits down behind him once again, pricks his ears to listen to the sleepy lull of his voice as he tells the boy sitting next to him about how and why he swapped courses.


The thing is, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Harry was the slutty minx that he plays up when he’s cumwhoreharry, but from what Louis can tell, he’s a soft sweetheart. But Louis’ probably wrong, and it would probably be worse if Harry were as slutty as he portrayed.


He tells himself that he’s going to focus, that he’s not going to get distracted by the way Harry’s hair swirls at the back of his head, or think about the Sunday livestream he had talked himself into watching, because Sundays are one of Harry’s fully-clothed days, so Louis had convinced himself it wasn’t as bad as watching a Friday one.


He doesn’t focus at all, in the end, because Harry makes to pull off his jumper and his t-shirt goes with it, giving Louis a full view to his bare back before Harry realises and pulls it down.


But of course by then it’s too late, and Louis’ mind is already running fast to create the visual image of Harry beneath him, fingers curled into the sheets as Louis strokes up the soft skin of his back, dragging his fingers down his spine before spreading him open and eating him out.


He leaves holding his textbooks in front of his crotch, embarrassingly hard in his baggy joggers.





Louis refuses to let it bother him. Refuses.


He gets home and Niall’s gone off and Liam’s left it tidy and he really doesn’t think he should be alone when he’s got something so momentous in his hands.


So he gets himself a beer from the fridge and flicks on the television, toeing off his shoes and resting his feet on the coffee table. But after he goes through the channels and concludes that everything on is shit, he’s left alone with Big Bang Theory reruns and his thoughts which slowly creep to what he’s seen on his laptop.


He doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal. If Harry Styles wants to spend his evenings in front of a webcam for cougars and old men to watch, that’s his own business. Louis has never been one to obsess over sex lives that aren’t his own.



But Louis has this weird feeling in his tummy when he thinks about it, the one he used to get when he was little and ate so many gummy worms he thought they were wriggling around in his stomach.


And he doesn’t know what it is. It’s something mixed with unease mixed shock mixed with guilt mixed with lust, and it leaves him with his fingers tapping against his thigh until he breaks and reaches for his laptop on the coffee table, pushing Niall’s assignment off the lid and onto the carpet.


After what feels like a lifetime for his laptop to spark to his home-screen, he’s double, triple, quadruple clicking the little Chrome icon.


Once incognito, he skims down his bookmarks for the naughty page title, a sense of recognition in his stomach at the URL.


And it’s still the same page. There’s still a photograph of Harry at the top of the page, chin cupped in his hands as he lies on his stomach with his ankles crossed. He’s still only wearing little pink briefs in the photograph, perfectly photoshopped to match the bubblegum pink of the background.


And it’s still the same page and the button is flashing rhythmically, a sweet pink that flashes brighter and reads: I’m Live!



Oh god.


Louis drags down the volume bar at the corner of his screen before he clicks on the button. It loads a new screen, blank but for two buttons. The pink one reads: Watch Here! And the black one: Watch at Boyztube!


Louis clicks the second one, being taken to a page but having the loading video box be blocked with a pop-up that asks for his member ID. Louis types in the one he’d created at Boyztube, typing in his email and fake name for his password and clicking enter.


At last minute, he scrambles for one of Niall’s socks that’s dirty and scrunched up underneath the coffee table, pinching it between his fingers and laying it over his webcam. Just in case.


Harry’s already standing in front of the camera, naked but for thigh highs, as he drags his hands up his smooth thighs and over his tummy, before pinching at the rosy peaks of his nipples, his cock arched toward his soft belly.





The second time Louis talks to Harry Styles, Louis has his head down to hide his shame and isn’t looking where he’s going.


He’d managed to go four days without watching anything of Harry’s, but he cracked when he woke up Saturday morning with his cock made of wood after a vivid dream of Harry riding him in one of his dress shirts.


He feels disappointed and ashamed as he steps onto campus for his study date with Stella, denim jacket heavy on his shoulders as he trudges over crunched up, dead leaves, ear buds in.


He’s so lost in his mind that it comes as an utter fright when he turns the corner and walks right into somebody, right before his chest is burning with fire.


He jumps back and pulls an ear bud out as he looks down at his chest, a large splotch gone see-through over the larger part of his chest and stomach. His skin burns as he pinches at the fabric and pulls it from his skin, gritting his teeth.


He’s ready to shout at whoever just spilt whatever over him, but when he looks up, of course he sees Harry Styles pulling his own earphones out, mouth gaping and eyes wide.


‘Shit,’ Harry rushes, voice high like when he’s about to come, ‘I’m so sorry!’


Had it been anyone else, Louis would have probably raised his voice a bit before storming off. Except it’s the boy who Louis’ been enamoured with ever since MFC announced their partnership with a new brothering channel and he saw Harry’s profile as the top result when he’d searched ‘twinks’.


‘It’s, uh,’ Louis starts, pinching at the wet fabric as he tries to ignore the sting of it, ‘It’s fine.’


Harry stuffs his earphones into his pocket before he runs his fingers through his hair. The tip of his nose is red and his cheeks rosy, and Louis’ tummy twists because not for the first time, he thinks about holding Harry’s hand and kissing him sweetly, rather than fucking him against the wall or bent over a desk. He looks adorable in his tight jeans and his hunter green parka.


‘No it’s not, you’re soaked!’ Harry exclaims, before he drags his lower lip between his teeth. ‘Shit. Um, my room is in Abbotts, so if you come with me I can give you another shirt?’


Louis’ already running late and Stella’s going to be pissed, but he finds himself nodding.


Harry nods along and bends down to pick up his now empty take-away cup so he can chuck it in the bin.





Harry has a single, and Louis’ sure he must have requested that. He can’t imagine trying to be a successful camboy while living with a roommate.


That also means his room is tiny, a single pushed up against the wall and his desk opposite. It’s about half the size of Louis’ room. Harry leaves him in the doorway before he’s crossing to his cupboard, pulling it open and digging through neat piles as Louis looks around his room.


It looks normal enough, but Louis spies his camera on his desk, beside his Mac, and he thinks he should not be so familiar with this room. He should not know the sheets because he’d seen Harry lying back against them as he’d fondled his cock through the sheer fabric of baby blue panties.


He wonders where Harry keeps his toys.


He’s got a good view out onto the courtyard, but Louis knows this, because it had been just under a week ago when Harry had posted a picture of himself sitting naked on the window sill with the courtyard in the background, fairy lights hanging down beside him.


Harry clears his throat softly, and Louis turns around, only to be presented with a soft looking white t-shirt.


‘The bathroom’s communal if you don’t want to change here,’ Harry offers, his voice small.


Louis shakes his head, desperate not to look back at his bed when he sees the plastic lid of the lube he’s seen Harry use in his videos peeking out from under his pillow.


‘Nah, s’fine.’ Louis tells him, and Harry turns away and back to his cupboard when Louis shrugs off his jacket, pulling his shirt over his head. His fingers are shaking, and he refuses to let his mind imagine a situation where he’s getting undressed to pull Harry down onto the single bed and kiss him until his lips are swollen, finger him open and fuck him slowly.


Harry looks away, but Louis’ almost certain he sees Harry look at him, right from the corner of his eye, before he pulls on his shirt.


It’s buttery soft against his skin, the neckline low. It smells boyish and clean, and Louis wants to burrow into Harry and keep him forever, if only to keep the smell that clings to his top.


Louis doesn’t know what’s scarier; the fact that he wants to fuck Harry until he’s crying and whimpering and coming all over himself, or that he wants to pet him and kiss him until he falls asleep in his arms afterward.


Harry bundles up Louis’ damp shirt in his hands with the promise to wash it and find a way to return it to him, before Louis tells him that they take Psychology together and recognition dawns on Harry’s pretty features.


Louis hovers at his door, buttoning up the last two buttons on his jacket as Harry stutters over his last apologies, but Louis waves them off and wonders if it’s too forward to ask Harry out this early.


Harry pulls the door open for him, leaning in against the doorframe as Louis stuffs his hands into his pockets.


‘I’m really sorry, by the way.’ Harry blushes, his shy smile awfully genuine.


Louis shakes his head and looks down at his feet before he runs his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s really fine, no harm done.’


Harry shakes his head before he stretches out his hand to Louis.


‘I’m Harry, by the way,’ he introduces, and then Louis remembers that he shouldn’t know his name, and he realizes that this whole time, he could have been calling him Harry when it was just a stage name.


Louis shakes his hand firmly and frowns slightly when Harry doesn’t let go of his hand and giggles softly.


‘You know, that’s when you’re meant to introduce yourself?’ Harry teases gently, squeezing his palm.


Louis shakes his head and he feels his cheeks burn with fire almost instantly. ‘Right, yeah, sorry. M’Louis.’


‘Lovely to meet you, Louis.’





The third time Louis talks to Harry Styles is Tuesday, when he’s already settled into his seat and is scrolling through his phone as he waits for his laptop to start up.


He looks up at the sound of a thud and sees Harry stop from where he’s approaching his seat, the row in front of Louis’, to apologize and pick up a shaggy-haired boy’s bag that he’d knocked off the table. Louis watches the annoyance drain from the boy’s face as Harry gives him his smile of the sun before he’s carrying on and looking up, almost towards Louis.


Louis locks his phone and focuses on the way that Harry’s waddling slightly, hips swaying in his tight jeans. Louis had watched him set his glittery pink dildo down on his desk chair and sink down onto it the night before, bare but for a flimsy white t-shirt that looked near identical to the one he’d leant to Louis and that showed off the hard press of his nipples as he’d wriggled around and tried to avoid touching himself.


Harry smiles and sets what Louis recognizes as his top down beside his laptop, neatly folded. ‘I really am so sorry,’ he starts, and Louis tries to cut in, but Harry raises his hand to cut him off and shakes his head. ‘I think I managed to get the stain of it out, but if it bugs you I’ll get you another one?’


When Louis frowns, it’s a lot fonder than he’d care to admit. ‘It’s really fine, it was my fault anyway.’


Harry looks ready to protest before Doctor Carter walks in and effectively silences Harry into sitting down quickly in his seat. Louis stuffs his freshly washed top into his laptop bag and tries very hard to focus.


But he still ends up thinking about kissing the back of Harry’s neck as he takes him from behind, about tugging on Harry’s cock slowly until he’s shivering with his orgasm.





His shirt smells like Harry’s had, and Louis wears it when he watches his livestream that evening.


Harry’s just idly fingering himself, lying on his side and propped up on two pillows, reading the comments as his arm works behind himself, one leg up so that Louis can see his fingers moving before they dip inside him.


Louis tucks his nose into the neckline and breathes it in as Harry laughs at something he’s read, right before it’s cut off with a moan and his eyelashes flutter. Louis watches his cock twitch, precome dripping slowly from the head and down onto his bedding.


Louis can hear Liam outside his door, and he knows he shouldn’t, but he flicks up the volume so that it’s louder through his earphones and he pushes down the waistband of his jogging bottoms, so his hand can reach under his waistband and he can curl his fingers around himself and draw his cock out against his tummy.


Harry wraps his own hand around his cock and strokes lazily, and before Louis can think better, he types into the little chat box: no touching.


Harry’s eyes focus back onto the screen seconds later, and his eyes skim lazily as he thumbs at his tip, drawing his foreskin back and squeezing out another fat bead of precome as his arm flexes behind himself.


His eyes widen minutely before his hand falls away from his cock and he’s laughing softly, grainy through the feed.


‘What else then, Tommo the Tank Engine?’ Harry purrs, fluttering his eyelashes at the camera, and Louis’ heart thumps.


Louis rests his fingers over his keyboard and thinks out a reply. Harry draws his fingers from himself and rests his chin on the back of his hand.


‘I’m waiting,’ he drawls, rolling onto his front and pushing his bum up.


Louis gulps as he types out: hump the bed.


Harry smiles when he reads it, biting his lip slowly before he rests his body down, face against the pillow as he shuffles closer to the wall so that the webcam picks up more of him. Louis watches as his hips start to shift in small rocking motions.


A soft moan comes from Harry as he ruts against the mattress slowly, his fingers flexing as he arches his back before grinding his hips down.


Louis wants to be between his thighs, holding them open and lapping at him as he grinds against the sheets. He wants to be there after he comes, when he’s sleepy and trembling.


Harry’s arms tense, muscles bulging as his hips pick up pace and he’s grinding harder, faster. He gets steadily louder, slow moans turning louder and ending in weak whimpers as his hips snap and his muscles shift beneath his skin.


His head turns against the pillow so that his cheek rests against it and he’s looking into the camera as he rabbits against his duvet, his mouth open as high little sounds spill out.


Louis fists his cock in time with Harry’s messy hips, his tummy tightening as he watches Harry’s eyes squeeze shut and his mouth form a pretty O as he shudders throughout his body.


Louis comes when Harry’s hips stutter against the mattress. Louis inhales the scent of him from his shirt as Harry mewls in his ears.





‘You really don’t have the money to keep this obsession going, Lou,’ Liam sighs as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket.


Louis knows this. He knows that he doesn’t have enough money to throw it at pretty boys with high quality webcams, but he can’t not when it comes to Harry.


It wouldn’t be so bad if Louis managed to stick to just paying the subscriber fee, because that’s easy, but he can’t stop himself from donating because it makes Harry get that pretty smile. And then there’s also the fact that Harry had put a link to his wishlist on his blog, promising to send a photo with the item purchased when it costs over two pounds and a video when it costs over ten.


Liam sighs when he gives him train fare, and Louis hooks his arm around his neck and kisses the top of his head, promising he’ll make supper if Niall goes out.





The fourth time Louis speaks to Harry Styles, it’s because Harry needs a pen. Louis doesn’t have one, so he shrugs and watches as Harry asks the person sitting in front of him.





The fifth time Louis speaks to Harry Styles, he’s standing in line in a small coffee shop because the temperatures are dropping quickly and he’s freezing from his inner core, and out.


He still has twenty seven minutes until he has class, so he orders his vanilla chai in a ceramic mug and tacks on a biscuit at second thought, before he surveys the cosy room and looks for a place to sit.


He groans at the realisation that there’s nowhere left for him to sit, and that all the tables are occupied.



He spots the all-too-familiar back of someone’s head, and of course he has that sort of luck. Because of course Harry Styles would be there when he needs somewhere to sit. Because the thing is, Louis’ discovered, that Harry is very friendly. The only problem is that whenever Louis sees him, all he can think about is his guilt over the fact that he’s seen him naked with toys inside himself and that he’s stared at a picture that Harry had posted nearly a year ago of him sucking off some anonymous guy far too many times and imagined it was him in the picture double the amount.


He takes a deep breath before he approaches the small table, and he clears his throat.


When Harry looks up, he’s got bags under his eyes and he blinks slowly. He’s got one foot resting on the edge of the chair, what looks to be an English textbook open on the table in front of him, beside a large mug of hot chocolate, barely touched.


‘Hi!’ he chirps, his voice edged between sleepy, happy, and pleasantly surprised.


‘Hey,’ Louis smiles back, his mouth quirking up. ‘Would you mind if I joined you? There’s no other space...’


Harry nods quickly, his leg falling off the chair as he sweeps all his belongings scattered over the table top toward himself, a pink highlighter clattering out his denim pencil case and onto the floor.


Louis picks it up for him before he sits down.


‘Y’alright?’ he asks as he leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his tea.


Harry smiles and reaches for his hot chocolate, gingerly taking a sip. It leaves him with a cute little moustache, and if Louis knew him better, he would lean over the table and wipe it off with his thumb. But as it is, he thinks Harry might be a bit put off by Louis being so forward.


‘I took a couple days off and now it’s coming back to haunt me,’ Harry sighs.


Louis’ not surprised. Harry had mentioned it on his blog, had even posted pictures, after he’d done a private session with a man who had ‘too much money’ and had asked if he could spank himself more than a few times.


It had looked rather uncomfortable, his bum coloured in reds and purples and blues in the pictures he’d posted, and Louis’ not surprised he’d taken a few days off to recover from it.


Louis gives him a sympathetic shrug, not willing to delve into asking why and putting Harry on the spot like that.


Harry sighs and has another sip before he closes his textbook, yellow highlighter keeping his place.


‘If I were to drop out right now, what do you think the chances of me becoming a rock star would be?’ Harry sighs, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand.


Louis finds himself grinning softly, privately, over the rim of his mug. He can see it, Harry in his tight jeans and a shredded top, screaming his heart out for thousands. He has the mouth for it, all Mick Jagger-ish.


He shakes his head at him. ‘Pretty slim, I’m afraid. You could always go the groupie route though, if you wanted.’ That’s another thing Louis can easily picture, Harry as the groupie everyone fucks when they’re stone. He grips the handle of his mug tighter at the thought.


Harry tilts his head, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully and trying to push down his smile.


‘I suppose so,’ he muses, before his eyes flick back to Louis and he takes another sip of his hot chocolate.





It would appear that after the fifth time that Louis speaks to Harry Styles, Harry seems to assume that they’re friends.


Which is fine with Louis, completely, it just makes it a bit harder to look in the mirror because being friends with Harry is addictive but watching Harry is more so.


Louis tries very hard, though.


He spends the whole of Friday afternoon on the couch, his hands between his knees with his eyes on the television.


Niall gives him a strange look when he gets home, shoving his keys back into his pocket as he dumps his backpack down beside the door, before he toes off his shoes, leaves them where they are. He takes a bite from his sandwich, frowning before he dabs at the corners of his mouth with his thumb.


‘I swear I saw that kitten twink you’re obsessed with when I was at Pret,’ Niall greets, before taking another bite.


Louis shakes his head quickly and looks at the clock. Harry’s livestream should be starting soon.


‘Doubt it,’ he says easily, pretending to be focussed on an episode of Mythbusters.


Niall shrugs before he sets his sandwich on the worktop and shrugs off his coat, hanging it over the back of the armchair.


He looks back at Louis before sitting down next to him. He chews slowly before his eyes flick to the clock and he squints. ‘Speaking of, isn’t his show about to start or something?’


It is, should be. Harry’s probably greeting all his viewers and talking about his day. He’s probably still dressed, so there wouldn’t be much harm in Louis watching, really.


‘I don’t watch that anymore.’ Louis says slowly, trying to give Niall a smile.


Niall rolls his eyes. ‘I’ll leave for a bit if that’s what you want?’ he offers, ‘Can even take Liam out for a drink if you want to listen to it loud?’


Louis loves Niall, like a little brother or a limb, and he’s grateful for how understanding he is, but when he’s trying to wean himself off his obsession with a boy who fucks himself for money, his offer is all too tempting. It’s a losing battle. He nods pitifully.


Niall squeezes his shoulder and stands up again. ‘See, that was all you had to do. Me and Liam will be back in an hour or two,’ he tells him as he pulls his phone from his pocket and pulls his coat back on, toeing on his shoes and leaving the flat with a slam of the front door, dialling Liam’s number.


It takes Louis half a minute to get to his room, laptop loading as he gets his lube out, pushing his trackies down his thighs as he rests back against his pillows.


He clicks onto Harry’s site, his heart thumping at the sweet little smile of Harry’s photograph at the top of the page. He takes a moment to save the most recent picture he’s posted, of him kneeling on the floor in thigh highs, cock full against his belly, before he clicks on the flashing I’m Live! button.


He logs in before he’s at Harry’s screen, the feed taking a moment to load, before he’s treated with the sight of Harry sitting cross-legged in front of the camera, top off with a bubblegum pink skirt pinching at his waist.


He talks slowly about his weekend plans, his lips quirked in a constant flirty smile as his fingers trail up and down his soft-looking thighs, edging closer and closer to the hem of his skirt but never quite getting there.


Louis knows what he wants, and he has to do a small mental summary, just like always, to make sure that he’s not going to desperately need ten pounds within the next week or so, before he clicks on the green donate button.


Harry pauses what he’s saying to squint at the screen, all before a radiant smile spreads over his face. ‘And thank you to Tommo the Tank Engine to getting us to my weekly mark,’


And just like that, Harry is peeling back the hem of his skirt so that his cock bobs out, hard and wet. He wraps his hand around himself, and Louis uncaps his lube as he does, wrapping his slick hand around himself and encouraging himself harder as he wanks himself in time with Harry.


Harry leans forward and his eyes scan the comment section and he laughs sweetly before he pulls the hem of his skirt back down, pulling it tight over his lap so that the line of his cock is obvious against the soft pink fabric.


‘Happy Birthday Rocking Jock, any requests?’ he purrs, pressing his palm against the head of his cock through the material as he leans in closer to the screen, eyes focussed as he reads. His grin is that of a minx.


‘I think I can do that for you.’ Harry says softly, before he’s giving a wide smile and leaning over, out the eye of the camera. When he comes back, he’s got lube and a thick, pink vibrator in his hands.


He sets them down beside his foot before he pushes his laptop back and gets up onto his knees, pressing into his duvet.


Louis’ transfixed as he drags his hands up his slender thighs and presses his hands against the hem, dragging it up higher and higher, before letting go. Louis groans in frustration, squeezing his fist around his base.


Harry wiggles around so that he’s facing away from the camera, so that Louis’ watching the backs of his thighs before Harry’s reaching to tilt the camera up so that he’s got a brilliant view of Harry’s bum, the camera near peeking up his skirt.


He bends over slowly until Louis’ cock twitches in his hold, eyes focussed onto where Harry shuffles until he’s comfortable and the hem of his skirt is resting just under his bum.


‘Can everyone see?’ comes Harry’s voice, muffled before his hands reach back and pinch at the edge of his skirt, slowly pushing it up before his hole’s on show, smooth and pink.


Louis bites his lip, wanting nothing more than to get Harry on his tongue, have him sit on his face as he licks him open.


Harry reaches around and his body shifts a bit before his arm’s drawing back and he’s got his vibrator between his fingers, slick with lube. He presses the thick tip of it against his hole before he presses slowly.


Louis’ almost awed with how he takes it, whimpering just loud enough for his webcam to pick up as he presses the fat toy inside himself, until only the flared base remains. Louis can see that his thighs are trembling from the effort of it before he presses his thumb against a button and a loud buzzing noise comes through.


Harry moans as he pinches at the base, drawing it out of himself almost completely before he shoves it back in, moaning when he presses it in fully.


Harry’s ruthless with himself, fucks himself hard and fast with the toy so that he whines and moans and whimpers, relentless. His arm is jerky as he wanks himself off in time.


Harry comes fast, but he leaves the toy on and stuffed inside himself while he tries to catch his breath, and that’s what gets Louis to come, listening to Harry’s sensitive little whimpers before he reaches back and draws it out slowly.


His hole is slick with it.


His cheeks are flushed and he looks so sweet when he clumsily moves around to face the camera again, skirt crumpled with a wet spot at the front.


Louis donates another two pounds to make Harry grin again before he’s closing the tab, right before the real feeling of guilt can kick in.





Harry messages him a Friday night, and it’s new, the fact that Louis has Harry’s number programmed into his phone, as well as a dumb picture of a pineapple which Harry had sent him the second Louis had given him his number.


And Louis’ been fine with it, has loved getting Harry’s whiny messages about how cold his single room is and grainy selfies when Harry can’t sleep, but the fact that Harry sends him a message asking if he’s up not even ten minutes after Louis had just watched him do a strip tease while wearing gauzy pink panties and a garter belt fills Louis with guilt and he switches off his phone and leaves it face down on his bedside table.


He only switches it on Saturday night before he goes out with Niall, and by then Harry has sent him two pouty selfies and eight messages.


It’s then that Louis decides to put a stop to his subscription to cumwhoreharry once and for all.


Which, of course, doesn’t last long, because he comes home frustrated that he couldn’t find anyone decent enough to pull and it feels like his only option is video number seventeen, the one with Harry in a silky nighty that just skims the top of his thighs as he pouts at the camera.





‘So, what are your plans for the weekend?’ Harry asks him, winding his earphones around his mobile phone before tucking it into his back pocket.


Louis kicks at the ground. He has work in half an hour.


‘Liam’s throwing a small party on Saturday, but other than that, nothing I guess. And yourself?’ Louis replies, looking to the side to watch Harry.


He leaves out the part that he’s probably going to try not to watch Harry, and that then he probably will. And he’ll probably watch ‘Hump Day Video’ number seven again, the one where Harry comes untouched, riding a huge dildo as he plays with his nipples. He cries somewhere near the end.


‘Nothing planned, really. I’ll probably watch the entire first two seasons on Friends and make some headway on my photography coursework, but nothing other than that,’


Louis nods, and if it were anyone else, he’d know they were hinting at doing something with him, but Harry makes him stupid.


He walks Harry to Abbotts Hall without really noticing, only realizing when Harry stops and steps onto the first of the stone steps.


‘Well,’ Harry says, raising his eyebrows. Louis raises his own back, pulling his jacket tighter. Harry laughs softly, shaking his head. ‘Bye Louis, enjoy your weekend.’


Louis sighs as Harry turns to climb up the steps, and the air curls out his lips in a cloud of cold weather. His eyes roam up his legs, wrapped tight in denim. Louis wants them wrapped tight around his hips. Harry’s pulling open the main door when realization hits.


‘Hey Harry!’ he calls, and Harry turns back to look at him, lower lip between his teeth.




‘You want to come on Saturday?’


Harry smiles and nods quickly. ‘I’d love to Louis.’





Louis feels like shit when he watches Harry choke on a dildo that night, per request of somebody who donates a lot.





Harry arrives just after eight, edging in through the open door wearing skin tight jeans and a black jumper, looking around as he bunches his fists up in the sleeves. Louis doesn’t understand how somebody so sweet looking, adorable, can spend his Friday nights sucking on chunks of rubber for money.


Louis tells himself it’s just his imagination that Harry’s face lights up when he spots him, that it’s probably the lights.


Niall had taken on the responsibility of alcohol, which had resulted in a disgusting rum, wine and something-Louis-can’t-quite-place mixture that has Louis feeling a bit tipsy after a single cup. Louis pours Harry a cup as he walks over, presenting it to him and getting a grin which makes his eyes crinkle prettily in the corners. Louis knows he should stop drinking before he tells Harry that he thinks he’s pretty when he wears white panties.


Harry drinks fast, and the bob of his throat is mesmerizing.


Liam’s nice, so Liam’s friends with everybody, and Harry seems to know a lot more people than Louis does. There’s a time when Harry drifts off somewhere in the pull of people and Louis ends up on the couch with a girl with dark roots, leaning into her.


Harry’s off with a boy who has sides of his head shaved and is nice to look at, and Harry’s pretty on his arm, so Louis plays interested in what the girl’s saying. She’s pretty, and he wouldn’t mind sleeping with her.


The couch dips beside him, and he ignores it until there’s a head resting on his shoulder and hair tickling his neck.


It gives him a fright, until he realizes it’s Harry. He’s had too much to drink, Louis can tell. His eyes are glassy and he’s smiling too wide and he wriggles around until he’s practically on top of Louis. It’s not unwelcome contact, just a bit unfamiliar, and Harry’s cuddly and warm as he throws his thigh over Louis, sprawled uncomfortably.


The girl with the dark roots and tongue piercing leaves when Harry starts telling him a string of jokes, trying to spread his legs wider. Louis’ watched him spread his legs wide countless times for the camera. He looks like he wants to be fucked, legs splayed and head tilted back as he laughs at his own joke.


Louis rests his hand on his thigh, idle, as Harry starts to babble nonsensically.


Louis’ only vaguely aware of Niall across the room, but he’s a lot more aware when Niall is at Liam’s side and pointing in his direction. He knows he’s in trouble when Liam weaves through the crowd and towards them, and he draws his hand off the warmth of Harry’s thigh before Liam stops in front of them.


Harry gives him a bright smile and tilts his hips up.


‘Who’s this?’ Liam asks, smiling in his way that gets people to like him. He looks good, unshaven and scruffy. Louis’ hyper-conscious of Harry’s legs shifting open wider.


‘Hi, I’m Harry,’ Harry slurs, sticking out his hand and leaning forward to shake hands with Liam.


Liam smiles, almost fondly, at the drunk boy before he takes a sip from his own cup. ‘You look rather familiar, doesn’t he Louis?’


Louis raises his eyebrows at Liam before he shakes his head. Harry draws his feet up onto the couch.


Liam tilts his head toward the kitchen and Louis sighs before pushing off the couch. Warm fingers circle his wrist and pull and Louis looks down at Harry, pouting up at him with Bambi eyes.


‘Where’re you going?’ he asks, voice blurred at the edges.


‘I’ll be right back.’ Louis tells him, and Harry nods and leans back into the couch.


Niall folds his arms over his chest and frowns at him. ‘That’s the guy right? The one you’re always watching?’


Louis nods and fights the urge to look back at Harry.


‘How long’s this been going on, then?’ Liam asks then, resting back against the sink.


‘It just kinda happened. I’ve only known him a couple of weeks, a month and a bit maybe; he’s in my psychology class. He’s really sweet.’


‘You’re not fucking him?’ Niall frowns, looking somewhere along the lines of shocked and affronted.


Louis shakes his head. ‘Haven’t even gotten ‘round to asking him out yet. I feel too guilty because I keep watching him.’


Niall nods slowly. Liam shrugs and bumps shoulders with Niall.


‘Well,’ Liam starts, frowning slightly, ‘as long as you know what you’re doing, I guess.’


Louis laughs. ‘I haven’t a clue. But I think I might ask him out tomorrow, when he’s sober,’ he says slowly.


Niall seems to think that’s enough. Once they’re satisfied, Louis’ shoved back in the general direction of the couch.


Harry’s asleep though, face soft and mouth open with soft snory sounds, his hands pressed flat to the back of the couch and his legs curled up to his chest.


Louis reaches to pet at his soft hair, ends up running his fingers through and pulling gently so that Harry almost purrs in his sleep. He giggles softly at the boy before he shakes his shoulder, trying to get him to wake up.


‘Harry?’ he murmurs softly, ‘Wake up. This couch will ruin your back,’


Harry grumbles before he blinks his eyes open. He smiles slowly, very pretty, as he pulls on Louis’ wrist. Louis follows willingly, curious as to what Harry wants, before Harry tugs him down onto the couch and leans into the warmth of him.


Louis’ startled, confused laughter ready to breathe out his throat, before Harry’s lips are against his.


It’s soft and quick. Harry’s kiss is warm and sweet before he falls asleep again, clinging onto Louis.


Louis’ heart thumps as Harry wraps his arms around his neck and starts to snore softly.